Parshas Shemos
The Burning Bush: Defining the Jewish Core1
The image of the burning bush vividly imprints itself upon us as a symbol
of Moshe’s mission. Encountering it launches his career. Clearly, its
symbolism expresses something powerful about the job and Moshe’s
relationship to it.
On one level, we understand that the simplicity and inelegance of a wild
bush in the wilderness speaks of a Jewish people without merit and without
accomplishment. It warns Moshe of the urgency of responding to the
brilliant fire of Hashem’s presence, still very much attached to the bush,
but on the cusp of slipping away, if His people move from the 49th to the
dreaded 50th level of degradation.
This approach, however, begs the question. Why did G-d wait for the last
moment, only then to move speedily? The hurriedness of the redemption is a
repeated theme of the Exodus. The abysmal level to which the Jews had
sunk necessitated the hurriedness. But HKBH could have moved to redeem
them somewhat earlier, and the pace of redemption could have slowed! Why
did He wait?
Possibly, Hashem wished to allude to the familiar analogy of the “kernel
of vitality.” A seed sprouts only when most of its case has decayed and
decomposed, leaving behind the bare germ from which new life continues.
Precisely when that germ is situated between the poles of death and new
life, precisely then the new cycle begins. The burning bush symbolizes a
Jewish people stripped of everything, retaining only some invisible
permanent essence. Moshe sees the bush, and reacts in amazement. Can the
Jewish people endure the lowest levels, and still survive? Hashem shows
him the paradox of Jewish survival – that we begin anew after severe
spiritual setbacks. Moreover, the process of rebirth not only can take
place after reaching some nadir, it is exactly from that point that new
growth is expected. The Exodus had to be hurried because we could not
survive long on the 49th level; it could not have occurred any earlier,
however, because the optimum time for renewal comes when only the bare
essence is left, and all else has fallen away.
It is not difficult to elaborate upon this kernel of vitality, to
establish its identity. Chazal tell us that we were redeemed from Egypt
in the merit of emunah. Belief in Hakadosh Baruch Hu
remains in place when we would have expected it to wither and die. It can
remain in force despite being surrounded by the worst tumah. Moshe
asked, “What if they do not believe me?” He contemplated their state, and
could not understand how a vital kernel of belief remained in such
inhospitable conditions. He could not detect a core belief strong enough
to spawn a spiritual rebirth. At the burning bush, however, Hashem
thundered instructions to him, “Remove your shoes from your feet! The
place you stand upon is holy!” The holiness He called to Moshe’s
attention was that of the Jewish people. It was alive and well, despite
their spiritual downturn. (As R. Noach of Lechovitch taught, a Jew who
begins to question his emunah should have faith that he has faith!
When he fails to feel the strength of that faith within, he should assure
himself that the faith is there, but remains hidden and obscured. The
faith is planted firmly in his soul by virtue of his relationship with the
avos who vouchsafed it to him.)
We can suggest another form of the vital kernel – a Jew’s refusal to
accept his spiritual condition. Growth comes when the soul screams out
against its circumstances, unwilling to accept a life that is not a life,
determined not to give in to its apparent reality but to struggle to fight
it off. Think of people gathered around a well into which someone fell.
So long as they hear plaintive cries from the bottom, they know that the
unfortunate victim is still alive and wishes to emerge. Should they hear
nothing, they fear that the impact caused the victim to lose
consciousness – or worse. A soul that still recognizes the Divine is
pained by what it longs for, and demands to be raised up. This obstinacy
is itself a form of the vital kernel, and the source of much growth.
Hashem tells Moshe, “Re’oh ra-isi, I have surely seen the
affliction of my people.”2 A
medrash3 picks up on the doubling of
the verb, re’oh ra-isi. “You, Moshe, see only one seeing; I,
however, see two seeings.” Man can only observe the external; G-d sees the
external but sees the innermost recesses as well. Despite their sinking to
the 49th level of depravity, Hashem can still detect their hearts crying
out against that very position. This is one way of looking at Hashem’s
command to Moshe to remove his shoes in deference to the sanctity of the
place. Moshe is told to remove the externalities that mask the qualities
of the inner person; when he does, he will discover that the innermost
part of the Jewish soul remains terra sancta, holy turf.
The seforim ha-kedoshim emphasize that not only were the Jews
enslaved and imprisoned in Egypt, but their very speech was held captive
as well. They did not have words with which to address Hashem. They could
muster nothing more than anguished groans, which he recognized to come
from the spiritual pain of refusing to accept their debased state. This
was the beginning of their rebirth.
The burning bush might be approached from a very different direction,
yielding different lessons important to Moshe at his initiation as a
leader. The fire may symbolize the tumah of Egypt – a tumah
which is itself symbolic of the worst spiritual degradation known at the
time. One would expect the bush to be no match for the consumptive powers
of the raging flame, but the bush stubbornly holds out. Where one would
predict that any Jewish holiness would have been lost to the Egyptian
tumah that Bnei Yisrael took part in, their kedushah
did not vanish. Moshe is amazed by the incongruity. Hashem instructs him
to take off his shoes in deference to a kedushah that he, Moshe,
was unaware of. The ground beneath him was holy, representing the
inherent kedushah of Jewishness, misunderstood and
underappreciated.
Many have said that it is impossible to convey to a non-Jew what it means
to be Jewish. Rav Baruch of Mezhbozh corrected this. It is impossible,
he warned, to convey even to a Jew what it means to be Jewish! Were a Jew
to understand the power of that kedushah, it would be impossible
for him ever to sin. When he does sin, he remains, despite his
shortcoming, strongly attached to the G-d Who loves him.
Chazal tell us that at no time did the world demonstrate its purpose and
worth more than the day Shir HaShirim was given. To be sure, there
were more momentous moments in human history, accompanied by great
miracles and wonders: the Exodus, the splitting of the Sea, the giving of
the Torah at Sinai. Shir HaShirim, however, articulates a message
that is not explicit in the other events: the great love Hashem has for
His people, and the love they have for Him.
The Baal Shem Tov’s contribution was meant to hasten the coming of
Mashiach, and to bring the world to a state of tikun. In
such a state, the reciprocal love between Hashem and Israel is brought to
full flower. The way to that great day is also through love, which
hastens the redemption and contributes to the final tikun.
1 Based on Nesivos Shalom, pgs.31-35
2 Shemos 3:7
3 Shemos Rabbah 3:2
Text Copyright © 2007 by Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein and Torah.org
