Boulder Aish Kodesh

As Rebbe Nachman writes, we are responsible for creating the worlds in which we live.  Through our thoughts and perceptions, we create the range of possible depth our interactions can bear.  By positive thoughts, characterized by a sense of the possibility of true interactive relationship, we can actually create or re-create a moment as a conduit to reach G-d - or the opposite. Thus we create the world in which we live.  Our capacity to create 'positive' worlds is limited by our capacity to think positively.

There is, however, a further constraint to the quality of the worlds we create - there are limitations to perception that are rooted not in the individual, but in society.  As discussed at length in the works of Jacques Derrida and others of his ilk, the language of a given society will to a great extent determine the shape of that society's expressions.  The nuances of discourse betray the inner psychology of its participants.  An example I heard from Rabbi Gedalia Fleer is that, in Hebrew, there is no word for 'guilty conscience' - thus, the concept has no reality in Jewish law.  Certainly there is such a word in Yiddish.

When the language of a given society does not contain a given concept - say, transcendence, then such a concept will not become a working part of that society's consciousness.  Therefore, there are modes of slavery and imprisonment that are more the result of a lack of liberation language than a result of human oppression.  Or, put another way, people can oppress each other by controlling the rhetoric of that people.  This phenomenon is clearly visible in the role of media in generating public perception.

When Rebbe Nachman discusses the role of exile in the cycle of revelation of new ways to serve G-d (in Lesson 36), he writes not of being in exile in a foreign land, but of being in exile under their languages.  He writes, "...and corresponding to the 70 souls of the house of Jacob, there are 70 languages.  And every language bears its own unique negative trait.  And by way of this negative trait, each language is distanced from the 70 facets of Torah [meaning to say, each of the 70 languages corresponds to one of the 70 facets of Torah but is distanced from it because of its unique negative trait.]  And when a soul from the house of Jacob comes into exile under the 70 languages, it cries out with 70 cries..."

Thus we see that the experience of exile is an experience of limited or flawed language.  And, appropriately, liberation or freedom is accompanied by a new language with which to describe that freedom.  Similarly, one way to motivate people toward a paradigm shift is to connect them with a language that inspires them - to a philosophy or myth with which they can identify.  We see this phenomenon in the civil rights movement in America - from the earliest days of slavery, the association of black slavery in America with Jewish slavery in Egypt 3500 years previous had the effect of giving people a sense of cosmic purpose as well as Divine providence.

When the Egyptians enslaved the Jews, they did so befarech, which literally means 'ruthlessly'.  But, in the Gemarra Sotah 11b, R' Elazar interprets the words as fe rach, which literally means 'with soft mouth'.  Rashi explains that Pharaoh 'drew them in with words' - we might see this as a creation of language through which the Israelites essentially allowed themselves to be enslaved.  As we know, one aspect of slave mentality is that one thinks of one's self as a slave, and is therefore unable to achieve liberation.  WE find no indications of even a meager attempt by the Jews to defy the slavery imposed upon them until the midwives, Shifra and Pu'ah, defy Pharaoh's orders

The turning point in the parsha hinges on Moshe's encounter with Hashem at the bush that is on fire but not consumed.  As Hashem encourages Moshe to take on the task of liberating the Jewish people from the grips of Egyptian slavery, Moshe wonders by what method he will convince the Jewish people that he and his mission are for real.  Rather than ask how he will go about proving this to the Jewish people, he asks another question in anticipation of Israel's concerns: "And Moshe said to G-d, 'behold, I will come to the children of Israel, and I will say to them, 'the G-d of your ancestors has sent me to you.'  And they will say to me, 'What is his name?'  And what shall I tell them?"  Moshe knows that the language of redemption is essential to its movement.  He knows that the name, or aspect, of G-d that he represents is the currency behind his words.  He must offer a name of G-d that will give a sense of purpose to this enslaved people - one that explains to them how to look at their reality differently, and thus throw off the yoke of a slavery by language.  On a deeper level, they will be looking for a language that gives not only hope for the future, but meaning to the past and present.

Thus Hashem answers – אה-יה אשר אה-יה.  It literally means, "I will be that I will be".  Hashem then tells Moshe to tell Israel that אה-יה sent him. This is shortly thereafter followed by the statement, “Thus shall you tell the children of Israel: Ado-nai the G-d of Avraham the G-d of Yitzhak and the G-d of Ya’akov sent me unto you.”  The combination of these two names is to give the children of Israel a language of redemption.  As the Malbim explains, the name אה-יה connotes Hashem’s being the only entity, so to speak, that is essential to reality.  That is to say, the existence of existence is founded upon G-d – G-d is the ground of existence and without G-d there is no existence.  Malbim goes on to explain that Hashem’s name יה-וה is not a name that describes G-d’s attributes, like the previous name – rather, it is G-d’s essential name.  It is a name of relationship – thus it is given to Moshe in context of being “G-d of Avraham G-d of Yitzhak, etc.”

What we find in these two names is complete consistency and complete adaptability.  Nothing can exist without G-d existing, and yet G-d relates to the world in its specific moment.  Rashi, quoting the Gemarra Brachot 9a, lets this shed light on the miseries of slavery that the children of Israel have been experiencing: I have been with them in their sufferings, and I will be with them in future sufferings.  This gives the Jewish people a certainty that G-d has been there with them in their slavery (אה-יה), as well as a sense that G-d is available for personal relationship, (יה-וה), to those who open themselves.  Given the name אה-יה without the name יה-וה, we might think in terms of a deistic, ‘clockmaker’ approach – G-d provides the ground of existence but is not available for relationship.  Given the latter without the former, we might think G-d is available for relationship at certain moments and not at others, or with certain people and not with others.

This was new to the anonymous nation of Israel.  Whereas they certainly knew of their ancestors’ intimate relationship to G-d, they had no reason to believe that such an invitation would be extended to them.  After all, their ancestors were each chariots of the Divine, whereas they, enslaved, embittered, and forgotten, had descended to the 49^th level of impurity.  It was certainly shocking and empowering to hear that G-d was with them and had been with them from the start.  And G-d‘s presence in their lives was not merely a gift, but a fundament of the ‘existence’ of G-d.  To say that G-d had not been with them would be to deny G-d entirely.

When the Israelites are told that Hashem has been with them in their suffering, they come to realize that all of their experiences of life are against the backdrop of relationship to  G-d.  This realization is the beginning of true dialogue with the Divine.  When a person does not see the unifying principle in all of the different facets of life, that dialogue is replaced by a cacophony of individual conversations, with no sense of power.  Without a relationship to the One G-d, one must negotiate with the rainmaker for the rain, with the sun for its light, and with each seed for its produce.  But when one connects with the common ingredient of all, existence, which is based upon G-d’s being the ground of existence, then all of one’s life ultimately boils down to one singular relationship.  Even the Egyptians have no power to enslave beyond the power that Hashem gives them.  Thus the freedom they want will be won not by war or negotiation with Pharaoh and his nation, but with G-d.

We are blessed with a liturgy that is rich in span and depth – what Rabbi S.R. Hirsch calls “our national treasure”.  Within our liturgy we find prayers for the everyday and prayers for unique experience, for life and for death, for physical enjoyment and spiritual, for every sense and every emotion.  The constant call to be in prayer – be it praise, request, or thanksgiving, puts us in repeated contact with the Divine, and therefore affords us the awareness of continued relationship.

Even with the rich heritage of liturgy that survives and thrives in the 21^st century, we are still nagged by a question those slaves of 3500 years ago might have been asking: we understand that G-d is with us somehow, but specifically how?  What is the vocabulary of our redemption?  What do 21^st century prayers sound like?  What language does G-d speak in the 21^st century?  What are we waiting to hear?  The question lingers.