Parashat Shemot- Becoming a “Gadol”
The Torah in Parashat Shemot tells the story of Moshe Rabbenu, who, though born to a Jewish mother, was raised as an Egyptian prince in Pharaoh’s palace. We read in this Parasha, "Vayigdal Moshe Vayese El Ehav Va’yar Be’siblotam" – "Moshe grew up and went out to his brothers, and he looked upon their suffering" (2:11). At some point, Moshe looked outside the palace window and saw his brethren, Beneh Yisrael, suffering at the hands of the Egyptian taskmasters. Rather than remain in the luxurious comfort and security of the royal palace, Moshe left the palace to observe the pain and persecution of the Hebrew slaves. The Midrash tells that Moshe actually went into the mudpits to join the slaves in their backbreaking labor.
This account is introduced with the phrase, "Vayigdal Moshe," which literally means, "And Moshe grew up." Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk (1717-1786) commented that this term actually refers to more than simply Moshe’s age. It means not only that Moshe became older, but that Moshe became a "Gadol" – he became great, he achieved spiritual greatness. Rabbi Elimelech asserted that the primary ingredient of spiritual greatness is empathy, genuinely feeling the pain and suffering of one’s fellow Jew, what the Sages refer to as "Noseh Be’ol Habero" – "bearing the yoke of one’s fellow." What made Moshe Rabbenu a great man was not his scholarship, deep connection to God, or unmatched humility – though undoubtedly he possessed all these traits, as well. Rather, he was a "Gadol" primarily because he had this quality of empathy. He could not allow himself to enjoy the comforts of royalty while his brethren suffered from persecution.
There are many ingredients that come together to produce a cake, but not all are indispensable. If a person forgets to add vanilla extract, the cake can still be a success. But if somebody bakes a cake without flour, there is no cake. The project never gets off the ground.
The same is true of "Gadlut." Many different "ingredients," religious qualities, go into the achievement of greatness. But we see from the Torah’s description of Moshe Rabbenu that the "flour," the most critical and indispensable ingredient, is empathy, feeling the pain of one’s fellow Jew in distress.
It is important to distinguish between the terms "sympathy" and "empathy." To "sympathize" means to pity somebody, to acknowledge that he finds himself in an undesirable situation. But we speak here of something much more – empathy, feeling as though one’s fellow’s suffering is his own. Rav Avraham Pam once paid a Shiva visit to a couple who tragically lost a child. He sat in front of the mourners and cried incessantly for twenty minutes, without uttering a word. This is empathy – when one senses the pain as though the tragedy actually occurred to him.
God Himself taught us what empathy means. We read later in the Book of Shemot (24:10) that when God revealed Himself at Mount Sinai, Beneh Yisrael were offered a glimpse into God’s heavenly abode, as it were, and they beheld a sapphire brick. The Sages explain that God placed a brick near His "Throne" during the period of Egyptian bondage as a symbol of His empathy for Beneh Yisrael, who spent all day, every day, producing bricks. This is what it means to empathize – to feel unable to go about one’s normal routine while other people suffer, to genuinely sense pain on account of the suffering endured by his fellow. And this was the quality that rendered Moshe a "Gadol."
We live today in a very selfish, self-absorbed and self-centered society. People today don’t want to be bothered by the distress of others; they don’t want the misfortunes of other people to disrupt their fun and enjoyment. This is diametrically opposed to the Torah’s outlook, according to which the most basic and primary value is that of empathy, feeling for the suffering of other people.
Unfortunately, there are so many Jews in our community and around the world facing problems –illness, the inability to find a suitable spouse, financial hardships, and so on. The very least we can do is to carry the names of such people in our pockets to pray on their behalf, to place other people’s problems at the forefront of our consciousness. There were Gedolim in previous generations who would sleep on the floor, rather than in their bed, when there was a Jew in their community in distress. At very least, we must offer much-needed friendship and comfort to the people we know who are experiencing hardship.
If a person hears that his father’s home burned down on the West Coast, and there are no flights so he cannot travel to be with his father, he will still feel his father’s pain. Knowing that his father has lost everything and is now homeless and penniless, he would not celebrate at a wedding or party. This must be, at least in small measure, our feelings toward our fellow Jews in distress. This is the most basic responsibility of the Jew, the foundation upon which we can then build in our efforts to become true "Gedolim."
