This Shabbat we study the Parshah Shemot, meaning “Names”, in the first book of Exodus (Exodus 1:1). The children of Israel multiply in Egypt. Threatened by their growing numbers, Pharoah enslaves them and orders the Hebrew midwives, Shifrah and Puah, to kill all male babies at birth. When they do not comply, he commands his people to cast the Hebrew babies into the Nile. The Parshah then recounts the birth of Moses, his youth in the Pharoah’s court, his mission from G-d and his first encounter with Pharoah as G-d’s servant.  When Pharoah’s response is to make the Hebrew slaves suffer even more, Moses returns to G-d to protest: “Why have You done evil to this people?” G-d promises that the redemption is close at hand.

From Chabad.org

The birth of Moses, in large part, was due to Miriam. The Midrash relates that her parents, Amram and Yocheved, had separated. What use was there to bring more children into the world when the Egyptian enslavement was so bitter, when all newborn baby boys had been condemned to death by being cast into the Nile? And what Amram did, the rest of the Jewish people followed. 

Miriam, only 5 years old, admonished her father. “Your decree is worse than Pharaoh’s! He decreed only on the boys, but your decree is on the girls as well!” She promised her parents that if they remarried, they would be blessed with a child who would redeem the people of Israel. When Yocheved placed baby Moses in the river to escape Pharaoh’s cruel decree, Amram tapped Miriam on the head, saying, “What’s with your prophecy now, Miriam?” And Miriam stood behind the reeds, waiting. Not in horror, not in despair, but in expectation. 

And because she was there waiting, she witnessed Pharaoh’s daughter, Batya, lift Moses out of the water. She saw Moses refuse to suckle from the Egyptian nursemaids. And because she was right there, waiting, she was able to offer Batya the services of a Jewish nursemaid—her own mother.  Was it a miracle that baby Moses was saved to grow up to redeem the Jewish people from Egypt? It was a miracle all right, but a very natural sort of miracle. Batya spotted the baby and lifted him out, Miriam noticing and calling her mother—nothing supernatural about any of these events. But none of this would have happened without Miriam being on the spot, waiting.

We Jews know what it means to wait; we’ve been doing that for a long time. And we haven’t been waiting idly. We’ve done a lot of good work, too—prayers, Torah study, good deeds, acts of kindness. But we’ve been waiting for so long, and it’s hard to wait anymore. It’s natural for bitterness to set in. This exile has been brutal. So much suffering and pain. But Miriam shows us how to wait. With bitterness over our suffering but not with despair. As we wait for our universal and personal redemption—in whatever area it may be—we derive strength from Miriam. And with her power, we will merit to see the redemption, and we will be the first to celebrate. 

From an article by Chaya Shuchat

We have the right to demand that the Moshiach should arrive now despite our failures. We have the right and the obligation to demand our own rebirth without travail, without pain. We have already stared darkness in its face; we have marched through its tunnel in a holocaust across the sea. We have passed enough tests. We have polished enough dark buttons until they glisten brightly. There is, after all, a halachah: A workman is not due his pay until he submits his bill. If so, all that is left is for us to demand that which is due. Long due.

Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

The Israelites were unable to endure the harsh galut (exile) of Egypt and cried out unto G-d to redeem them from it. Indeed, G-d heard their cry and sent Moses to save them. Likewise with our present galut: When we cry out, “Take us out of the galut and bring about the redemption,” the Almighty will surely hear our cry and redeem us. Moreover, our mere being in a state of readiness to call upon G-d is already enough for Him to respond, as it is written, “Before they call, I shall answer, and while they yet speak I shall hear” (Isaiah 65:24).

From an article by Rabbi J. Immanuel Schochet

As each of my pregnancies progressed, my husband and I discussed potential names for our soon-to-be newborn baby. We pored over lists, girls’ and boys’ names, as well as names of deceased relatives.

Despite our many hours of deliberation, we didn’t name any of our children after the names we had initially chosen. As each child was finally born, we looked deeply into the newborn’s eyes and just knew what the name should be.

Parents have a form of divine prophecy when they name their children. A name is intrinsically connected to the essence of the individual’s soul and is the channel through which his spiritual life force flows. That’s why to arouse someone from a deep sleep or even a faint, call them by their name. To get their full attention or affection, address them by their name. A generation ago, the Nazis dehumanized our people by discarding our names and treating us as numbers. By robbing us of our names, they tried to rob us of our humanity.

Names are a big part of this week’s Torah portion which is called Shemot, “Names,” and is also the title for the entire book of Exodus. The portion starts with G-d calling names: And these are the names of the children of Israel who came into Egypt . . . (Exodus 1:1-2). G-d counted the tribes again now, to express His love for them, by calling each one by their individual name. (Rashi). 

The Midrash (Shemot Rabbah Rabbah 1:28) learns from this that the Jews in Egypt did not change their Jewish names.

Even though they assimilated into Egyptian culture, the Jews held strong to their names, language and clothing. This would become their weapon in their spiritual battle to preserve their unique identity as the Jewish people.

When Batya, Pharaoh’s daughter, goes to bathe in the Nile, she notices a basket floating and realizes that the baby inside must be one of the Hebrew slaves. Batya’s name means, “daughter of G-d.” Though she was the daughter of Pharaoh who terrorized, enslaved and murdered the Jews, Batya acted as the daughter of G-d by risking her life to save Moses.

Batya names this Hebrew baby, Moses. Although Moses had seven different names, the name that the Torah calls him and the name by which G-d addresses him is the name given to him by Batya, due her selfless act. Perhaps that’s the message of this portion and the entire book of Shemot. To experience our own personal exodus, we need to view every person as an individual with his or her own exclusive set of struggles and challenges. To preserve our humanity and to see another’s humanity, we must see them as a name—as an individual with a unique story and a unique destiny.

What’s your Hebrew name? How does it connect to your mission and individuality?

Chana Weisberg