In this week's Torah portion, Va'eira, we read about the plagues G-d brought upon the Egyptians. On the simplest level, the plagues were intended to punish the Egyptians for enslaving the Jews and refusing to set them free. But the Torah tells us there was an even deeper purpose behind them: "And the Egyptians shall know that I am the L-rd."
The Egyptian people did not believe in G-d; the plagues were meant to educate them about the Creator and His power. As Rabbi Yitzchak Abarbanel explained, Pharaoh denied three things: the existence of G-d, the concept of Divine Providence (that G-d oversees and is intimately involved in everything that goes on in the world), and G-d's ability to perform miracles that transcend the laws of nature.
When G-d brought the plagues upon the Egyptians, all three of these erroneous beliefs were publicly disproved: The first three plagues demonstrated that G-d exists; the second three plagues established His Divine Providence; and the next three plagues taught Pharaoh that G-d can indeed act in a supernatural manner.
Significantly, however, the Torah mentions an additional reason for G-d's having brought the plagues: to teach the Jewish people about His greatness: "That you may tell in the ears of your child, and of your grandchildren, what things I have done in Egypt...that you may know that I am the L-rd." In other words, in addition to the effect they were supposed to have on the Egyptians, the plagues were meant as a lesson for the Jews, that they should "know that I am the L-rd." As Rashi notes, "The Holy One, blessed be He, brings punishment upon the nations so that Israel should hearken and fear."
But why wasn't punishing the Egyptians and refuting their religious misconceptions enough of a reason? Why was it necessary for the Jews to be brought to a greater awareness of G-d?
The answer has to do with the reason G-d created the world in the first place. Our Sages teach that G-d created the world "for Israel and for the Torah." Accordingly, everything that happens in the world - every event and every little detail - has a direct connection to the Jewish people and the Torah, and is intended for their benefit.
For this reason, there had to be more "justification" than simply punishing the Egyptians and refuting their beliefs; the plagues would somehow have to be advantageous to the Jews. In fact, it was only when they caused the Jews to have a greater awareness of G-d that the Egyptian plagues completely fulfilled their objective.
The greatest champions of moral progress always seem to possess silken tongues. They make their case with perfectly chosen words, and can mold public opinion by the sheer power of their eloquence. But the first defender of human freedom, the first to denounce the subjugation of an entire nation, had “sealed lips.”
As a child in the court of Pharaoh, Moses often reached for Pharaoh's crown. Concerned that this behavior spoke to a dangerous ambition, his advisors conceived of a test of the child's intentions. A bowl of glowing coals was placed next to a bowl filled with gold. If he reached for the gold it would confirm the boy's appreciation for power and fame, if he chose the coal, he was just another child. Moses started for the gold, but an angel redirected his hand to the coal. He promptly placed it in his mouth, burning his tongue and imparting him with a lifelong speech impediment.
Eighty years later, Moses stood before a blazing bush and received G-d's command to take His people from the Egyptian slavery. Though the scars on his tongue had faded, they remained on his mind.
"I beseech You, O L-rd. I have never been a man of words, neither in times past or now that You have spoken to Your servant; for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue."
This is an impasse. G-d has searched His nation and found one man whose moral caliber, humility, and love qualifies him to bring G-d's message of freedom to the world. But he is incapable of the most elementary tenet of representation—speech.
The idea of inclusion is familiar enough: every human being has incalculable worth; differences in ability are superimposed upon our innate humanity. So, it is incumbent upon us to afford everyone the opportunity to exercise their unique iteration of qualities. The obstacles ordained by nature are to be circumvented to allow that expression.
But the call to inclusion is more poignant than ramps and education. It asks that our solutions be infused with sensitivity and respect. A practical salve can be made that lacks the imagination of another's dignity. We are charged to cater to the person, with his particular reality in mind. The environment is malleable, the circumstances can be altered—not the individual. If a ramp to the bimah is unavailable for some reason, bring the ceremony to him—we serve people, not limited architecture.
Could G-d have miraculously altered Moses's tongue, alleviating him of his handicap and granting him the confidence to speak before Pharaoh? Of course. But Moses did not ask to be the recipient of miracle.
It is worth recalling what inspired G-d to choose Moses as His people's leader. A lamb under his care had strayed, and Moses went in search of his lost charge. This uncompromising attention to the individual is what earned him G-d's affections. Moses was the leader with that evasive quality—awareness of everyone's varied realities.
Moses did not seek a miracle, a distraction from his true predicament. He dug his heels into the reality he occupied, and presented himself to G-d. I am heavy of mouth and tongue. Perhaps, he speaks on behalf of every man or woman who possesses a disability. “These are facts; we have everything to give—if society can learn to move past nature's constraints and facilitate our abilities.”
So, what did G-d do? “I will be with your mouth, and I will instruct you what you shall say.5” The classic 13th century commentator, Nachmanides, explains it like this. G-d promised to craft a message for Moses with words that he can articulate.6 He recognized Moses' potential, saw his limitation, and adapted His own divine script to equip Moses with words he is comfortable with. G-d alters the circumstance, not the individual.
In our quest to include every member of our communities, we would do well to pay attention to this ancient example of accommodation. If we can learn to change our surroundings in accord with those who are constrained by unrelenting forces, we may empower the redeemer of a nation—we may discover our next great moral advocate.
