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The Telling of the Exodus Story: What’s Missing

Yes, the Exodus is about freedom from: our freedom from bondage. But just as importantly, it’s about freedom to: the freedom to follow God’s commandments, the freedom to be servants of God and not to be servants of anything else.
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March 29, 2023
Pharaoh’s downfall in the Red Sea (Exodus 14). Wood engraving, published in 1886.

We are all familiar with the telling of the story.  At the seder, after the youngest child recites the ma nishtana—”What makes this night unlike all other nights?”— we respond, “We were slaves to Pharoah in Egypt, and the Lord our God brought us out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” The iconic story has no doubt been momentous. Yet, there’s something crucial missing.

The Exodus is, in many ways, defining for Jews. Our experience in slavery represents the culmination of the stories of our patriarchs and matriarchs. Being freed from slavery and subsequently receiving God’s words at Mount Sinai renewed our covenant with God under the commandments from God. 

The story confirms for us the dignity of every human being, each made in the image of God, and it informs our view of how to treat others—not to oppress the stranger, to be kind to servants—for we were once strangers in a strange land. It impresses upon us the importance of freedom for everyone.

Moreover, the story has not only been transformative for the Jews. It’s also been the enduring prototype for freedom movements throughout history, including the founding of the U.S. In 1776, Benjamin Franklin proposed for America’s Great Seal an image of Moses reaching out over the sea, overwhelming Pharaoh sitting in a chariot, with rays from a pillar of fire in the clouds, with the statement, “Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.” As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks mentions in his book “Haggadah,” “America was the great attempt to construct a society along biblical lines, following in the footsteps of Moses.” 

The Exodus story also lived on in the civil rights movement. It was perhaps best reflected in African-American spiritual songs, including the famous hymnal “Go down, Moses,” which dates back to the Civil War era. 

The telling of the story rightly focuses on the importance of freedom from tyranny, freedom from oppression, freedom from persecution and discrimination. All this entails the idea of freedom from. This, needless to say, has been crucial not only for the Jews, not only for the U.S., but also for Western civilization.

The idea of freedom from is only half the story of the Exodus. The other half is about freedom to. This other half is critical, and yet it’s often neglected. 

But the idea of freedom from is only half the story of the Exodus. The other half is about freedom to. This other half is critical, and yet it’s often neglected. 

Further, it’s problematic in the context of much of today’s current thinking, especially among young people. The question is: Freedom to do what? To be true to one’s feelings? To pursue one’s happiness? To promote the common good (presuming one knows what it is)?

As noted throughout Torah and our liturgy, it’s the freedom to serve God. In the Torah, Moses is repeatedly referred to as “His servant.” For Hallel (prayers of praise for God read on special days), we recite the words “Give praise, you servants of the Lord.”  

What does it mean to serve God? With the revelation at Mount Sinai, with the divine words of Torah, with the commandments, we are given plenty of instructions. Still, it’s not always so simple. In a famous Talmudic passage, a non-Jew asked Hillel to convert him on condition that Hillel teach him the entire Torah while the non-Jew stands on one foot. Hillel converted him, and said, “That which is hateful to you do not do to another. That is the entire Torah, and the rest is commentary. Go study.”

For the already religious, this is basic. “Of course we’re here to serve God. This is who we are. This is what we’re about.”

But while the idea of serving God is natural for observant Jews, it’s a problem for others, including many young Jews. Many might say, “I don’t even know who God is. I don’t even know if I believe in God. Moreover, if I’m compelled to be a servant of God, in what sense then am I really free?”

Many prefer to think that, if we’re really free, then we should be free to think what we want, say what we want, and do what we want—not compelled by anything or anyone, God or no God. We should be able to find our own way, to become good people on our own, to learn right from wrong from our own life experiences. We may follow some value or values, but we’re more comfortable following something of our own choosing. 

It’s not unreasonable. After all, we are in an age where, for many, religion and the Bible and God are quaint theological remnants of the past.

But for those who subscribe to this viewpoint, it’s not evident how one should discern the particular value or values to follow. The search continues, though—without God.

With regard to young people who head to college, will traditional secular subjects—history and science, psychology and philosophy, political science and economics—help clarify the values that one should follow?

At its core, this is an epistemological issue. How do we know what the right values are? How do we know how we ought to think, to speak and to behave? Ultimately, how do we know what we ought to follow?

Traditional secular subjects, while undoubtedly useful in many ways, fall short. History can, of course, be illuminating, but it’s largely descriptive. Science produces innumerable amazing discoveries, but it’s focused on physical reality, particularly cause and effect theories that describe physical reality. Psychology gives us insights into our inner world, but it’s not prescriptive. Political science is a social science that is largely descriptive. Economics, while applicable to our financial world, is also a social science. None can tell us what we ought to do.

Philosophy, while not a science, has its own limitations. At the risk of over-simplifying, especially considering the perennial tension between Athens and Jerusalem, philosophy can illuminate how we can best use our reasoning. However, as a guide to what’s morally right and wrong, philosophy has often not been very helpful.  

Quite the contrary. It’s worth quoting the German-Jewish philosopher Hans Jonas, who lived in the middle of the last century. Jonas said, when reflecting on the conduct of the preeminent philosopher Martin Heidegger (who was Jonas’ teacher), “When the most profound thinker of my time fell into step with the thundering march of Hitler’s brown battalions, it was not merely a bitter personal disappointment for me but in my eyes a debacle for philosophy.  Philosophy itself, not only a man, had declared bankruptcy.”

In sum, notwithstanding the many benefits of higher education, none of the traditional secular subjects can tell us what values we should follow. None can tell us right from wrong. None can tell us how we ought to live. None can tell us that we ought not gossip, ought not bear a grudge, ought not covet, ought not bear false witness, ought not favor the rich nor the poor in matters of justice, ought not oppress the stranger, ought not steal, ought not murder.

Nor do these secular subjects tell us that we ought to love our fellow as ourself, that we ought to honor our father and mother, that we ought to keep the Sabbath, that we ought to care for the orphan and the widow and the needy. The secular subjects do not give us ought commandments. They cannot give us the values that we ought to follow.

Where do ought commandments come from? Yes, from the Torah. From the revelation at Mount Sinai. From the Divine. From God.

The ought commandments reflect a transcendent reality that we all experience that entails moral laws—laws that are absolute, eternal and universal—that were revealed to Moses at Mount Sinai.  

No doubt, the revelation seems miraculous. It can seem mysterious. It can be difficult to comprehend.  

But that is our tradition, that is our covenant with the Divine, that is what we are to follow, and that is the basis for our being servants of God and not servants of anything else.  

And, as the famous English writer G.K. Chesterton said, “The problem of disbelieving in God is not that a man ends up believing nothing. Alas, it is much worse. He ends up believing anything.”

Yes, the Exodus is about freedom from: our freedom from bondage. But just as importantly, it’s about freedom to: the freedom to follow God’s commandments, the freedom to be servants of God and not to be servants of anything else. This is what we ought to be talking about with young people at our Passover seders— the freedom to follow what our ancestors heard at Sinai 3300 years ago.


Curt Biren, an investment advisor in LA, has written for First Things, Religion & Liberty, The American Mind, and the Journal of Markets and Morality.

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