“These are the names...” (1:1)
Parashat Shemot opens with a paradox.
The Jewish people are crushed, enslaved, stripped of power—yet it is precisely there that the Torah begins to speak about identity. “And these are the names of the children of Israel...” Names mean essence. Who you are does not change along with your circumstances.
My mother, may I be an atonement for her resting place, had something very rare: she knew exactly who she was. People said that when she walked into a room, she lit it up. She had a regal presence; like being in the company of royalty. And yet she came from the humblest of beginnings: Bethnal Green, East London, poverty, illness, fear. But none of that defined her.
Galut - exile - is not just about suffering; it is about the confusion of identity. Pharaoh’s deepest cruelty was not the slave labor. It was making the Jewish people forget who they were. When a person no longer knows who he is, he becomes easy to control.
And that is why redemption begins not with miracles, but with names.
My mother was never destabilized by change around her, because her sense of self was not borrowed from fashion, culture, or approval. So, when I became religious, she took it completely in her stride. There was no fear, no threat. She did not need me to remain the same in order for her to remain herself.
Often, when children become religious, parents react negatively, not out of ideology, but insecurity. If your identity depends on my choices, then my growth feels like your loss. But when your identity is rooted deeply, another person’s journey does not threaten it.
Parashat Shemot teaches that true royalty is inner clarity. A Jew can be a slave—and still be a prince. A woman can grow up in hardship—and still carry herself like a queen.
My mother lived that truth. And in doing so, she quietly taught what Geulah really begins with: knowing who you are—no matter where you stand.
