Sefer Sh'mot, the Book of Exodus, is arguably the most important single story in all of Jewish history. The tale of the liberation of the Israelite slaves from Egyptian oppression, of God's role in freeing the Jews and leading them to the base of Mount Sinai, the revelation of the 10 Commandments and the beginnings of Jewish law constitute the very core of what it means to be a Jew.
If the Book of Exodus is so central, it might we worth our while to stop for a moment to reflect on its central theme. What, exactly, is distinctive in the message of Exodus to modern Jews?
From its inception, the Book of Exodus is clearly a book about hesed--best translated by the English word "grace." Grace is a particular kind of love, that which is undeserved, spontaneous, and unconditional. Often, love betrays the egocentrism of the lover--the object of affection must continually earn devotion, or the lover showers love because of what that relationship allows the lover to be. As common as such self-centered love may be, it is not hesed.
For love to be hesed, it must be given freely, without having been earned, in the words of the siddur: "Master of all worlds! Not upon our merit do we rely...but upon Your limitless love." Rare in the world of flesh-and-blood, it is that pure loving-kindness that establishes the theme of the Book of Exodus.
Take a look at some of the relationships in this pivotal biblical book: The book opens with the remarkable courage of the Egyptian midwives who demonstrate hesed for the Israelite baby boys. Then Yoheved and Miriam show hesed to the infant Moses by carefully building an ark and then engineering his eventual rescue by the daughter of Pharaoh (who herself showers hesed on the baby Moses).
As an adult, Moses' life takes a radical turn when he acts on his hesed for the Jewish slave being beaten by the Egyptian taskmaster, and Jethro and his daughters in turn, meet him with hesed after fleeing to Midian.
In every moment, the plot of Sh’mot advances because of undeserved love and kindness, the innate ability of one human being to empathize with, and to act on behalf of another human being (in the words of the Talmud, "don't just another until you have stood in their shoes."). Even God gets into the picture, liberating slaves who have done nothing to earn this special divine providence. That unearned grace continues at Mount Sinai where God graciously extends an eternal brit, covenant, to the Jewish people: "The Holy Blessed One desired to benefit the Jews, so God gave them the Torah with a multitude of mitzvot." The mitzvot themselves are examples of God's hesed.
The concrete symbol of that hesed, grace, is found in this week's parashah in the building of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle). God instructs the Jews to build this portable structure as a place in which the divine presence can dwell. In the midst of the Jews, God provides a tangible reminder of the special grace that has effected their liberation, provided them with a path of living that is wise and harmonious, and has offered an unparalleled access to the sacred and the holy.
The tabernacle built in the wilderness reminded our ancestors of God's unqualified love. In turn, it stimulated them to redouble their own efforts to live up to God's estimation of the Jews as worthy of divine favor.
By opening our hearts to God's love, we build a tabernacle of the heart. By allowing God to dwell within our core, we respond to God's hesed with love. And by allowing that hesed to serve as a catalyst to greater observance and goodness, we take a portion of God's hesed toward us and offer it as our own gift of love to the rest of humankind.
Proximity, intimacy, and caring — these are the gifts of hesed, and they are its fruits.
Shabbat shalom.