When one thinks of a leader, one often thinks of a person who inspires confidence in those being led, and who has earned the respect and trust of the people. Moses, the greatest leader in Jewish history, however, did not see himself as possessing these qualities. When God first appears to Moses from the burning bush, Moses is not at all eager to take upon himself the mantle of leadership. He offers five arguments for why God should choose someone else; God ultimately says, in essence, “It wasn’t a question, Moses - it was an order.” Moses reluctantly takes on the role of leader for the Hebrew slaves.
As Parshat Vaera opens, however, Moses reverts to his old protestations. “Tell the Children of Israel that I will save them,” commands God. Moses does so. The slaves pay no attention to Moses’ words, due to their kotzer ruach (diminished spirit) and their avodah kashah (hard labor). “Tell Pharaoh to release the Children of Israel from his land,” commands God. “Wait a minute!” challenges Moses. “If my own people won’t listen to me, why would Pharaoh?! Plus, I am a person of aral sefatayim (impeded speech)!” Moses argues that if his own people won’t listen to him, Pharaoh will be even less likely to do so. Why, indeed, would the enslaver listen to an appeal to which even the enslaved themselves will not listen?
The Sefat Emet ((R’ Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter, 1847-1905, Poland)) offers a possible answer. Moses offers two reasons why he cannot speak to Pharaoh: (1) the slaves’ unwillingness to listen, and (2) his own physical limitations. Most commentators understand the state of aral sefatayim as distinct from the slaves’ response. Moses had a speech impediment, these commentators say, and that was why he did not feel comfortable going to Pharaoh. The Sefat Emet, on the other hand, believes that the two issues are intimately connected. He writes that Moses did not, in fact, have a physical speech impediment; rather, he felt impeded due to his people’s lack of confidence in him. As long as he did not have his own people’s support, he did not feel that he would have any chance of persuading Pharaoh to end the slavery of the Israelites. As the Psalmist tells us, “Listen, my people, and I will speak.” ((Psalms 50:7.)) It is only if the people will listen that the leader may speak, for the leader’s strength is derived from his people.
Or is it?
When it comes to social activism in our world today, we see the kotzer ruach and avodah kashah of those for whose freedom we are fighting. Their struggles can lead them to accept their oppression as unchangeable. It can even cause them to resist efforts at liberation for fear that those efforts will make matters worse. It is common that, in the face of the overwhelming change needed for real liberation, the oppressed and the bystanders are overwrought with a sense of paralysis and powerlessness.
At its inception, for example, the Soviet Jewry movement was not mainstream. The Jewish establishment at the time tried to dissuade the movement’s leaders from protesting. “Let us work through back channels,” they said. “Don’t stir up any more anti-semitism.” In saying this, they echoed the words of the Hebrew officers in Egypt at the end of Parshat Shemot. In response to the burdens Pharaoh added to the Israelites’ labor after his confrontation with Moses and Aaron, the officers say, in essence, “Why did you have to go making demands of Pharaoh? You’ve made life even worse for us!” Moses is distraught, and doubts whether his mission will be successful. So, too, the leaders of the Soviet Jewry movement could have feared that their protests would end up hurting their brethren behind the Iron Curtain more than helping them. They could have said, “If we are not sure that our own people’s leaders are with us, why would Secretary Gorbachev listen to us?” But listen to them he did, and the Jews of the Soviet Union were set free from their bondage.
Similarly, when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was sitting in a jail in Birmingham, Alabama, he penned a letter to his fellow Christian clergymen, some of whom had been urging him to cease his civil disobedience, and fight the battle for civil rights in the courts. Dr. King respectfully disagreed with his colleagues, writing that he was less concerned with the Ku Klux Klansmen than he was with his fellow African-Americans. King writes of “…Negroes who, as a result of long years of oppression, are so drained of self-respect and a sense of ’somebodiness’ that they have adjusted to segregation.” ((”Letter from a Birmingham Jail”, April 16, 1963)) Dr. King assured his Christian brethren that “even if the church does not come to the aid of justice,” he was certain that justice would prevail. He hoped his Christian brothers would join him on the barricades, but even without their help, he was determined to forge ahead.
As Moses and the leaders of the Soviet Jewry movement and Dr. King discovered, if a person is committed to changing the world for the better, lacking support from one’s own leaders, and even people, is not necessarily a reason to desist. By devoting one’s time and energy toward effecting change, a leader can sway the people. Leading by example is one of the best means by which to rally others to a common cause. When deciding which causes to support, and to which we should devote our time and treasure, let us keep in mind the words of President Abraham Lincoln, “…My concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.”
Reprinted with permission from The American Jewish World Service. AJWS publishes a weekly Torah Commentary that explores a social justice theme in the Torah reading for the upcoming Shabbat.
This AJWS Torah Commentary was written by Rabbi Aryeh A. Leifert is Assistant Rabbi at Congregation Rodfei Sholom in San Antonio, Texas. Ordained from Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, and a participant on AJWS’ Rabbinical Student Delegation to El Salvador in 2006, he catches himself now and then saying, “Shalom, Y’all!” He may be reached at rabbileifert-at-gmail.com.
This series was made possible in part by funds granted by the Charles H. Revson Foundation. It reflects the ideas and opinions of the author and not necessarily those of American Jewish World Service or its partner organizations.
Comment (1)
I agree with much of what the writer said, and don’t want to suggest anything he may not have meant, but I do think we must tread a narrow line between desiring to advocate forthe rights of another people and being paternalistic. It seems to me that the examples given, such as Martin Luter King, Jr., are examples of leaders arising within their own people, who face the reactions of segments of their peole who have been beat down by their opporession as Rabbi Leifert so well describes. Those leaders experienced and understood the conditions of oppression their people faced, and could from experience articulate their pain and aspirations. Their people responded to them because they knoew they were of them and accurately spoke for them. They had the confidence of segments of their people. It becomes more complicated when you are not of the people for whom you are advocating. I think those of us outside of an oppressed community need to found our support on elements of leadership within those communities. Otherwise, we run the risk of assuming to understand conditions of which we do not have direct experience, and advocating actions for which we do not have to live with the consequences. I am suggesting inaction. I have done a great deal of international support work in my life. I am suggesting that we look to leadership in the oppressed community. I realiuze this is a very brief comment, and, as such it ma be rather vague. If it creates any confusion, I apoligize.