From the Rabbi

Towards the beginning of this week’s Parsha, Pharaoh enacts an evil decree in which he requires that all of the males born in Egypt be thrown into the river. Therefore, when recently born Moshe’s mother realized she could no longer safely hide him, a basket was built, and he was placed into it, and sent into the river. The Torah then relates how Pharaoh’s own daughter, Basya, was bathing by the river when she saw the basket. The verse tells us she “sent her amah to take the baby.” Rashi gives two explanations as to what this means: an amah could be a maidservant. This appears to be the simple way to read the verse, and  means that Basya got the basket by asking her maidservant to retrieve it. But Rashi also explains that amah could also mean arm. Thus, when  she saw the basket in the distance in the river, she stuck out her arm, and, as the midrash relates, her arm extended supernaturally, Inspector Gadget style, until it reached the basket, and brought it to her, saving Moshe. 

According to this understanding, we might ask, what was her intention? Did she think she could accomplish anything whatsoever by sticking out her little arm, to retrieve the basket containing the crying baby, many many yards in the distance? What is the lesson for us?

Rabbi Shmuel Berenbaum answers that when a person needs help– we need to do whatever we possibly can. We need to leave no stone unturned, and put in maximal effort– even if it seems, according to the laws of nature, that our effort will not move the needle. He explains that even though, according to the laws of nature, her arm was simply not long enough to reach Moshe, nevertheless, this baby was endangered, and therefore she needed to do something–anything - whatever she could do– even though it seemed like it would not make any difference. Because she did that– a miracle happened, and her arm extended so that she could merit saving Moshe Rabainu. Explains Rabianu Berenbaum, if Basya would have sadly shrugged her shoulders, and wondered, “What could I have done, anyways?” and given up hope, we would have never had a Moshe Rabainu, who ultimately led us out of Egypt and ascended to become the greatest leader in our history. 

What a powerful lesson for us as well, in our lives– personally, and nationally. Sometimes we might become aware of someone in need of help. And we might shrug our shoulders, asking ourselves what we can do? As much as we would like to help, we surely are not in position to make any kind of impact. So we don’t bother trying. And on a more communal level– as we all know too well, there were recently dozens and dozens of our precious brothers and sisters in captivity in Gaza. And many of us, especially towards the end, were consumed by the all-encompassing feeling of dread that there was nothing that could be done to get them out alive. Why would Hamas forfeit all of their leverage and release them? It seemed like an impossibility. But, like Basya, we stuck out our arms anyways. At shul, we said a special psalm of prayer after every service. Some people wrote letters to their senators, or spread awareness about what was going on. Others took on special mitzvos in their honor, or chose specific names to pray for. And at times it undoubtedly felt useless– like we weren’t accomplishing anything. But Basya taught us that when someone is endangered, and needs our help, we can’t just sit idly by, doing nothing. We at the very least must stick out our arms and try to reach the person in need. 

And thank G-d, Basya saw a miracle, and so did we.