Rethinking Redemption

Cliché, Complexity, and the Question of Personal Exodus

As Pesach approaches, you have surely been inundated with timely insights and inspirational musings. Given the proliferation of Chassidic thought, the themes of personal exile and redemption paralleling the national narrative have become almost cliche. Most of us will have heard divrei torah exhorting us to identify our internal Mitzrayim, our personal parting of the sea. 'What's holding you back?' demands the polished public speaker of his audience. Obviously, we shouldn't treat spiritual principles like fast fashion. In the 'industry' of religious thought, oft-repeated ideas are reiterated precisely because of their continued relevance. Thus, no idea should be dismissed for being cliche. Even so, the commonality of this framework arguably led to its oversimplification.

‘Obviously, we shouldn't treat spiritual principles like fast fashion.’

Let me explain where I'm heading with this.

The cryptic phrase "Ekyeh Asher Ekyeh" —often translated as "I will be what I will be" appears during Moshe Rabbeinu's first prophetic encounter at the burning bush. Moshe asks God:

"When I come to the Children of Israel and say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is His name?' what shall I say to them?"

To Moshe's query, God replies:

"Ekyeh Asher Ekyeh."

{Exodus 3:14}

These three words have been reinterpreted countless times, but I want to highlight the following understanding articulated by Maharal. Drawing on a Midrash, Maharal explains the phrase "Ekyeh Asher Ekyeh" as hinting at how the experience of God's providence differs between the collective and the individual. God's providence is total, of course. Yet, our ability to perceive it exists on a spectrum. Maharal splits the phrase in two. Taken in isolation, the promise, I will be, is an assurance of God's continued presence alongside the Jewish people. There is a quality of certainty and perceptibility about it. Yet read in full, "I will be what I will be" evokes a loop. It doesn't define — it defers. The words themselves exude mystery. While God is always present in our individual struggles, at this level, He is far harder to detect than on a national scale.

Maharal's assessment rings true. Reflecting on Jewish history, one can sense the contours of a larger design. Certainly, it feels miraculous. In his introduction to the Siddur, the revered Rav Yaakov Emden wrote that the mere survival of the Jewish people throughout millennia appeared to him 'greater than all the miracles that God performed for our forefathers in Egypt.' It's astounding to think he composed this well before the Holocaust, the improbable return to our homeland, and the equally unimaginable national renewal that followed. But even absent such wonder, Jewish history pulses with an underlying rhythm in which God can be intuited.

Nevertheless, on a personal front, things can be far murkier. For example, we can say in a general sense that the Jewish people have continuously re-emerged from calamitous tragedy. Yet such an approach may be small comfort to the individual victims of a thousand persecutions, pogroms and expulsions. Don't get me wrong; many of us will recognise divine providence in our own lives. Still, the immediacy with which we as individuals face God ironically makes His hand challenging to discern. It is undeniably difficult to notice Him in our day-to-day affairs. Patterns can be seen far less frequently on the micro level than on the macro level.

If only God and the miraculous could be perceived more clearly at the micro level

And this is where we must resist the temptation to oversimplify. The concept of a 'personal Mitzrayim' is meaningful—but only if we approach it with the intellectual seriousness it deserves. Most individual redemption arcs are not tidy nor always perceptible. They are cloaked in mystery, just as the name "Ekyeh Asher Ekyeh" suggests.

Modern society has seen the rise of 'Main Character Syndrome', a tendency to view one's life through a heightened narrative lens. The divine response to Moshe reminds us that while national redemption might be storied, personal Exodus is often ambiguous, deferred, evolving. To understand redemption, we must sit with paradox: God's presence is both declared and concealed. "I will be"—and yet, what that "being" looks like may only become evident in hindsight or never fully at all. That, too, is part of leaving Mitzrayim.

Keep Pondering and Have A Wonderful Pesach!