Two Kinds of Crying
Weekly message · Rabbi Yossi Lipsker
In this week's Parsha, the first of the Book of Exodus, the Jewish people enter slavery in Egypt. Throughout the Parsha, we hear two kinds of crying. The first is the cry of the Jewish slaves. Although we are told of their pain, we do not hear their voices in the first two chapters. Finally, in the third chapter, the Jews cry out collectively, a bitter howl that is akin to a woman giving birth. Only then do we read that G-d understands their pain and begins the process of redemption. In a broader sense, being enslaved means losing one's individuality and one's ability to protest in the face of injustice. The slavery in Egypt is reflective of the individual enslavement that overcomes us in life. Often, the first step in personal redemption lies in the vulnerable cry of pain and loss. It is in this cry, often during prayer, that we begin to feel G-d's presence.
The second type of cry was the unusual cry of Moses that the Egyptian princess heard coming from a basket in the Nile. The Torah describes this cry as the cry of a lad, rather than the cry of a baby. The Midrash explains that Moses was crying not for his own fate, but for the fate of the Jewish people. The cry was that of a young boy who is able to understand the pain of another and to cry tears of compassion. This fascinating Midrash helps position Moses as our future leader, a leader who truly hears the pain of his people.
How do we become leaders and encourage our children to do the same? Perhaps this week's Parsha tells us that it all begins with crying. To facilitate personal growth, we must first find our own individual voice and free ourselves to become who we truly are. Then, we must use our personal struggles to advance our understanding of the pain of others. True compassion comes only when you allow yourself to become vulnerable and experience life fully. With loss, with mistakes, comes the possibility of spiritual growth. A true leader must navigate through the passivity and superficial nature of modern society. I recently heard someone say that "If yesterday's rock and roll was about abandon, today's songs are about abandonment." Let's move back to abandon. Let's try to feel pain so that we can truly feel joy. Let's raise a new generation of leaders who understand, like Moses, that you can't bring people to redemption unless you can feel their slavery.