The Book of Exodus opens with multiple stories about civil disobedience, about justice, and about leadership. The story of the Exodus from Egypt is, of course, a foundational text in our tradition—but one of the striking things about this part of the story are the women who are named and celebrated for their roles. This week, we’ll explore some of those stories.
Today’s Kavanah is dedicated to my father Martin Laufer, on his second yahrtzeit, and to Cantor Emma Lutz, on her return from parental leave.
For our wedding, Ben and I asked family and friends to design a square which we had quilted into our chuppah, the wedding canopy under which we stood. My parents—not artists by nature—offered us these words: “We give you the only two gifts we can: Roots to grow and wings to fly.” Later, we offered those same blessings to our children at their Brit Milah and naming ceremony, respectively. It is, perhaps, the ultimate gift a parent can give. Glennon Doyle, one of my favorite and most-quoted teachers, speaks of creating homes and families where people feel held—safe—and free, able to be their truest selves.
When we first meet Moses’ mother, she is unnamed—not unusual for the Torah. Later texts— both within the Torah and in rabbinic interpretation—name her as Yocheved, which literally means “the glory of God (Ya-kavod).” Named or not, I think Yocheved offers a beautiful—and courageous—model of parenting, of giving roots and wings.
British-Somali poet Warsan Shire writes:
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
And so, we meet Yocheved, who loves her youngest son so much that she is willing to risk putting him in the water, not sure of his fate. And, she loves her youngest son so much that she risks everything by sending her daughter to keep watch over him on his journey. And, she loves her youngest son so much that she nurses him while another woman raises him. According to the Midrash, it is in these moments—these years—that Yocheved is able to teach Moses who he is—his heritage and his history. She loves him so much that she gives him roots and wings.
So often, I hear your stories—stories about your parents who left Iran, stories about your grandparents who survived the Shoah, stories about arriving in this country with nothing and building a life, a family, and a legacy. I hear these stories about parents who made courageous choices to give their children a better life, to give their children safety, to give their children roots and wings. Because of them, we have lived a life where we are held and free. I only hope that I—and we—can make courageous choices for my—for our—children as well.
—Rabbi Sari Laufer