The Tragedy of Moshe Rabbenu’s Fight for Justice

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In this week’s parshah we begin the story of arguably our nation’s greatest leader—Moshe.

We read about his birth and his mother hiding him, his rescue and adoption by Pharaoh’s daughter, and his increasing identification with his Hebrew brethren. We read how he murdered an Egyptian taskmaster striking a slave and his attempt to reconcile two Hebrews arguing, which ended in his enforced flight to Midian and his defense of Midianite shepherdesses. And finally, we read about his encounter with God—known as אהיה אשר אהיה—whose face he fears to look at, and who commands him to begin what will become the Israelites’ long walk to freedom.

By the parshah’s end, Moshe has gone to Pharaoh but initially been rebuffed. He is subsequently incensed towards God.

A warrior for justice

What becomes apparent throughout these stories is that Moshe is a warrior for justice. Before his encounter with God, he battles on three different occasions without regard to the ethnic and religious background of those involved (Egyptian/Hebrew, Hebrew/Hebrew and Midianite/Midianite). He cannot stand idly by when he sees suffering.  And when liberation doesn’t arrive at what he believes is the opportune time (namely Achshav, immediately!) he is angry and frustrated at God.

In Shemot Rabbah, Rabbi Akiva expands on Moshe’s thinking:

The reference to those “set under the building” refers to a different Midrash, which tells how the Egyptians would use Hebrew babies for cement and “bury” them inside the buildings. Moshe intellectually understands that freedom takes time. But in the meantime, innocents are dying. That long-term, strategic (heavenly) view won’t save individual children who need help. Now!

Jonathan Sacks discusses Moshe’s “anger at the sight of evil which drove him, time and again, to intervene in the name of justice”. He suggests that it is this anger—and unwillingness to accept the suffering of individuals—that makes Moshe afraid to look at the face of God at the burning bush. “If he could understand history from the perspective of heaven,” Sacks writes, “he would have to make his peace with the suffering of human beings…How could he still be moved by the cry of slaves, the anguish of the oppressed, if he understood its place in the scheme of things, if he knew that it was necessary in the long run?”

This is Moshe: warrior for justice, the chosen leader for Israel’s liberation.

The tragedy of Moshe’s fight for justice

While Moshe successfully leads the people for decades, there is also a tragic component to his (praiseworthy) fight for justice.

One incredible Midrash (Ptirat Moshe) that imagines the Death of Moshe describes an argument between God and the long-suffering leader of the Israelites. Moshe is desperate to enter the Promised Land and—in a very uncharacteristic brazen way—makes a series of demands that God allow him to enter.

God explains that it is the nature of humans—no matter how great they may be—to die. He mentions Adam, Noah, and the patriarchs. Moshe responds that they all sinned in some way or had wicked descendants. Back and forth go the two protagonists until God delivers what He considers to be a conversation stopping argument.

Undeterred, Moshe has a response to this:

And God responds:

In this reading, what ultimately counts against Moshe is a seemingly praiseworthy act—the killing of the Egyptian taskmaster beating a Hebrew slave. The very same act that demonstrated his leadership qualities—his demand for justice, his attempt to limit suffering of innocents—ultimately prevents him from entering the land.

The late American Secretary of State Henry Kissinger wrote that the responsibility of a statesman is to resolve complexity rather than contemplate it. But perhaps, complexity—for statesmen and nations driven by justice and fighting for survival—cannot always be resolved.

Judaism may be a religion of hope rather than tragedy, but tragedy often constitutes an integral part of our existence. And this means that we may be required to carry out actions that while necessary—perhaps even essential—simultaneously damage us.  Being a warrior, even a warrior for justice, scars us.

May this lesson of Moshe’s life guide us and our leaders today.