The Torah portion of Shmot – Exodus – introduces us to Moses, arguably the greatest prophet in Judaism. But even before the burning bush, before the plagues, before the parting of the Red Sea, he's already grappling with damage.
According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, even Moses’s early life in Egypt wasn't without its shadows. He was raised in Pharaoh's palace, enjoying privileges denied to his people, yet he always knew he was different. He felt the sting of their suffering.
Imagine that internal conflict. He saw firsthand the opulent excesses of the Egyptian court, the source of all the Israelite's suffering. But he also witnessed the back-breaking labor, the casual cruelty inflicted upon his brethren.
The Midrash tells us that even as a young prince, Moses possessed a remarkable sense of justice. There's a story in Exodus Rabbah of Moses, still a child, refusing to wear Pharaoh's crown. He dashed it to the ground, symbolically rejecting the very power structure that oppressed his people. It was an act of defiance, a foreshadowing of the leader he would become.
But this inherent sense of justice, this empathy for his people, also came at a cost. He couldn’t simply ignore the suffering around him. Legends of the Jews paints a picture of a young Moses deeply troubled by the plight of the Israelites. He feels a responsibility, a burden that sets him apart.
And that's the thing about leadership, isn't it? It's not just about power or glory. It’s about bearing the weight of others, feeling their pain as your own. Moses, even before his divine calling, was already carrying that weight. The damage, the awareness of injustice, shaped him, molded him into the man who would eventually lead his people to freedom.
So, when we look at Moses, let’s remember that his journey wasn't a seamless ascent to greatness. It began with a profound awareness of the suffering around him, a wound that never truly healed. And perhaps, it was that very wound that made him the leader he was destined to be.