What Do You Dream About at Night? Batya and Oskar Schindler

In the opening of Exodus, we are introduced to Batya, the daughter of Pharaoh. Enigmatic and misunderstood, she was an anomaly that resisted the sycophant-fueled court worship of her megalomaniac father.

Early this a.m., whilst studying the passage of her rescue of the baby Moses from the Nile, I immediately said to myself, “Oskar Schindler.” Why did that thought, that name, “flash across the screen” of my mind? Was it the rally held across the street from the Shul last night in response to the drawing of a swastika just around the corner on Reddington Street?

I imagine so.

When, in our daytime reveries, we manage to dislodge from the distractions of our surroundings, we can often “rejoin” or “log back in” to resume the dreamlike qualities of the night. When this occurs, it often mirrors the nocturnal experience best described as the screening of a film playing in the theater located between our most hidden selves and our “semi-conscious” state— featuring the fears and hopes that lie hidden in the depths of our subconscious. Reading Torah with an open soul frees the text to build bridges between our concealed and open selves. When we can briefly get out of our own minds, creating space for the Torah to deploy in its unobstructed mysteriousness, we might spot our inner and outer universes networking shyly with one another. When we “catch this” happening, we recognize having had a “Dream Torah Moment.”

Often that collaboration yields surprising data—these days, however, there are no real surprises. Jews who are forced to discuss antisemitism during the day end up with nightmares about the Holocaust at night.

Let’s pray for the time that we can talk and focus more attention on our loftiest goals and personal aspirations during the day, in the hopes of dreaming about THOSE during the night.

While we can choose where and how we live, we have zero input in the “when”; if we suddenly find ourselves feeling too close for comfort to the contemporary equivalent of “going down to Egypt,” we need to fully accept that this is our destined “When.”

In moments like these, my trusted inner Jewish compass reminds me that there have to be many reasons for that, beginning with the faith that G-d believes that we in particular carry within us all the strength, faith, wisdom, and dignity needed to rise to the seriousness of this situation and meet it head-on with fearlessness and resolve.

For now, I just want to say this.

Thank you, Swampscott!

Last night, for those of you who came out in the cold, rainy night, your presence was the outstretched arm of “Batya,” encompassing your friends and neighbors and drawing them protectively close to you with love and the good old-fashioned American decency that is still very much alive and well.