The Torah itself understands this yearning, this constant state of being in-between.

Let's look at a seemingly simple phrase from the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy), "and he went down to Egypt." Seems straightforward. But the sages of the Sifrei Devarim, a collection of early Jewish legal interpretations, immediately jump in with a crucial question: Why did Jacob, Yaakov Avinu, our patriarch, go down to Egypt in the first place?

It's tempting to think he went to seize power, to claim a throne! After all, his son Joseph was second-in-command to Pharaoh! But the Sifrei Devarim quickly clarifies with the phrase "vayagar sham" – "he sojourned there." The text tells us, quite explicitly, that Jacob only went down to Egypt to be a temporary resident, lagur, to sojourn.

It wasn’t about conquest; it was about survival.

This idea is reinforced by a verse in Bereshith (Genesis 47:4), where Jacob's sons tell Pharaoh, "To sojourn in the land did we come." They weren't looking for land to conquer or build an empire. "For there is no pasture for your servants' flocks," they explain, "for the famine is sore in the land of Canaan. And now, let your servants abide in the land of Goshen." They were refugees, plain and simple, seeking shelter from a devastating famine.

But here's another layer: How many of them were there? Did a massive army descend upon Egypt? The Sifrei Devarim anticipates this question and answers with another verse, this time from Devarim 10:22: "With seventy souls did your fathers go down to Egypt." Just seventy people. "In scant number," the text emphasizes. A small, vulnerable family seeking refuge.

So, what does it all mean? This isn't just a historical detail. It's a reminder that our ancestors' journey to Egypt wasn't about glory or conquest. It was about survival, about finding a temporary haven in a time of crisis. It was about gerut, being a stranger in a strange land.

And perhaps, that's why the story of the Exodus, the leaving of Egypt, is so central to our tradition. It’s not just about escaping slavery; it's about remembering where we came from – a small group of people seeking refuge, who eventually found their way back to their own land. It reminds us to be compassionate to the stranger, the ger, because we, too, were once strangers in a strange land. It’s about the enduring hope for a home, a place of belonging, a Jerusalem, that perhaps one day, we’ll all find.