The story of Egypt begins by setting the scene of a nation oppressed and enslaved, and we learn a few details of Moshe’s youth.
He witnesses an Egyptian officer harassing a Jew and intervenes to save the victim and kill the bully. He witnesses two Jews fighting and intervenes to separate them. He witnesses shepherds bullying Yisro’s daughters and intervenes to protect them.
The Midrash fills in some gaps, suggesting that he followed a thirsty lost lamb and carried it to water, which led him to the burning bush.
Although the Torah and our Sages give specific indications that Moshe was born special and was always destined to save his people, the Torah also leaves a space for these formative stories, suggesting that it wasn’t as simple as destiny; that Moshe also had certain vital qualities and characteristics that made him the man for the job.
The Meshech Chochma notes that the common thread in these short vignettes is that Moshe demonstrates his compassion and concern for the weak and vulnerable and a willingness to take responsibility and intervene for others.
The stories of breaking up a fight between Jews and stopping the abuse of another Jew show he cares about his people. The story of his intervention to save Yisro’s daughters demonstrate he cares about other people too, not just his own. The story of the thirsty lamb show goes even further to show he is a deeply compassionate person in general, concerned with the wellbeing of just another creature.
This quality of perception that drives action and behaviour is what God sees in Moshe:
וַיַּרְא ה’ כִּי סָר לִרְאוֹת וַיִּקְרָא אֵלָיו אֱלֹהִים מִתּוֹךְ הַסְּנֶה – Hashem saw that he had turned to look, and God called to him from within the thorn bush. (3:4)
This is the very first time God speaks to Moshe, the moment Moshe is called to greatness, to become the ultimate leader and liberator. While the simple reading is that God noticed Moshe turn to look at the bizarre apparition of a bush on fire yet did not burn, it also suggests the quality that God recognizes in Moshe, that Moshe is someone who notices things and will turn to look – וַיַּרְא ה’ כִּי סָר לִרְאוֹת. Consider that this is one of the vanishingly few instances where the Torah narrates God’s thoughts to us, in this case, that God noticed something that provoked a response from God as a result.
Sure, Moshe was born under miraculous circumstances and, by luck, was born straddling the political divide between Egypt and the Jewish People. But while we can’t hope to emulate the circumstances of his birth, we can undoubtedly invoke the qualities that made him so compelling and worthy in God’s eyes. Moshe was a natural giver and helper who wanted nothing in return. He protected the weak and vulnerable with genuine self-sacrifice – all before God ever said a word to him.
That’s the kind of person who can carry people out of the depths of abject misery to the heights of greatness. While the specific expression looks different, they start with one thing – the leader’s vision.
Before you can solve, first, you must see.
Our sages teach that when Pharaoh announced his policy for all the Jewish infant boys to be thrown in the Nile, Bilam congratulated him on his wise policy and was rewarded by the king; Yitro told him that it was wrong and had to flee for his life; and Iyov saw that Yisro’s protest was ineffective, so chose the path of prudence and was silent in the face of monstrous evil.
And as a result, says the Midrash, he was afflicted with all of the suffering recounted in the book of his name.
Pharaoh took counsel on his policies of genocide, oppression, and subjugation from three men – Bilaam, Yisro, and Iyov; the renowned villain advised Pharaoh to hurt the Jewish People, Yisro advised against it and fled, and Iyov remained silent and suffered for pretty much the rest of his days.
But Pharaoh was resolved on his wickedness! Yisro’s protest was ineffective, not to mention the Torah itself says that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. What good would it have done to speak up?
R’ Chaim Shmulevitz answers that it’s basic – when something hurts, you scream. Even if it does not accomplish anything, you scream from the pain.
Iyov wasn’t pained enough at the prospect of all Jewish boys drowning in the Nile; pain does not allow you to stay silent. Open your eyes to the people around you. It doesn’t hurt enough if you can rationally decide that it’s not worth it to scream.
As R’ Avraham Yitzhak HaKohen Kook said, I don’t speak because I have the power to speak; I speak because I don’t have the power to remain silent.