It is not until two chapters into Exodus that the Israelites take their first collective action and definitively become a people.
Their collective action is a groan. It is a collective moan. It is a cry that bubbles up from the depths of their suffering.
It is at this exact moment of recognition and pain, over 400 years into their enslavement, that the Israelites understand that they are a people, that their situation has become intolerable, and that they want to change things.
In my work as a faith-based community organizer, one of the principles by which I live is: the greater the distance you are from the problem, the more you can philosophize about it.
In these days between Pesach and Shavuot, we are reminded that ours is not a tradition of philosophizing. We are told to relive the exodus as if we ourselves were the ones fleeing for our lives. These days, that might not be so hard to imagine.
We live in a time of war, climate disaster, pandemic, hatred, and suffering. But, much like our ancestors, I have to believe we are also in a time of great potential.
Together, the Israelites called out to God to save them. But, there won’t be a Moses coming to split any seas for us. We are going to have to save each other. And, in order to do that, each one of us will have come to recognize our common humanity and the dignity inherent in each of us.
A people doesn’t become a people through philosophizing, rationalizing, or thinking. A people becomes a people when they transform themselves and each other from a loosely associated group of individuals to a common collective whose lives and fates are inextricably intertwined.
That’s the miracle.
My prayer for all of us in this moment of history is that we might stretch our own boundaries of kinship and come to know the potential inherent in our own belonging.
