Sefer Shemot

Shemot 1:1-6:1

Thoughtful Decisiveness: Moshe's Heroism

 Michael Rosenberg, 5764

We are all familiar, I would imagine, with the story of Moshe killing the Egyptian who was striking a Hebrew. Influenced by movies and my own vivid imagination, I often envision a young, impulsive, Ahnold-as-Terminator Moshe rushing in and saving the day-act now, think later. And indeed, the feelings of fear and anxiety that Moshe feels after killing the Egyptian man (2:14) seem to reinforce such an image; it doesn't look as if Moshe thought about the consequences of his actions. Perhaps if he had, Moshe would not have acted as he did.

However, such an image cannot be supported in light of the verse that actually describes the event of Moshe killing the Egyptian. Verse 2:12 reads: ".וַיִּפֶן כֹּה וָכֹה וַיַּרְא כִּי אֵין אִישׁ וַיַּךְ אֶת הַמִּצְרִי וַיִּטְמְנֵהוּ בַּחוֹל" ("and he turned here and there and saw that there was no one, and he struck the Egyptian and buried him in the sand"). Moshe does not rush in to do this act; rather, he seems rather reluctant to act-a familiar trope in his life, as we know from the story of the burning bush. Moshe looks more like an indecisive Woody Allen than a fast-thinking Neo (had to get in a "Matrix" reference)-he stands there as his Hebrew brother is beaten, looking around, hoping to find someone else to act in his place. Why would he wait, standing there, as another human being was being oppressed and beaten? What was he waiting for?

Reading the verse reminded me of a famous passage from Pirkei Avot; in mishnah 2:4, Hillel says: "ובמקום שאין אנשים השתדל להיות איש"-"In a place where there are no leaders, try to be a leader" (according to the Artscroll translation). The Hebrew word translated here as "leader" is "איש", which is what made the passage come to mind in light of our verse, which states that there was no"איש" . It would seem that Moshe is living in this verse the advice of Hillel; upon seeing that there is no one else to be an איש, Moshe takes responsibility and does what he must do. But does this advice make sense? Should we live in a world where we take responsibility only after first determining that there is no one else able to help? I'm imagining frustrating Shabbat dinners where one person goes into the kitchen to do dishes, and since the dishes are being done, everyone else gets to sit around the table schmoozing. Just because one person is being an "איש" and taking responsibility for the dishes, does that absolve the others of their responsibility?

Moshe's actions in the story remind me of another Torah trope (pun intended) as well. In Devarim 22, two laws are given regarding the rape of an engaged woman. The first law (v. 23-24) deals with the case where a woman is raped in the city; in such a case, both the rapist and the woman are put to death. The second case (v. 25-27) discusses a woman who is raped in the fields; in this situation, only the rapist is put to death. The Torah explicitly addresses the question of why a difference is made between the two situations, and why an engaged woman who is raped in the city is also put to death. We read in v. 27 (case 2) that the woman raped in the field must have cried out, but "אֵין מוֹשִׁיעַ לָהּ"-"there was no one to save her. Thus, the reason why an engaged woman who is raped in the city (case 1) is also put to death is an assumption that she did not cry out for help and in fact willingly participated in the sexual encounter. (Modern psychology would call into question the presumption that any woman who is raped will cry out, but for the purpose of studying the Torah in its own context, let's accept that presumption for now, while recognizing that it may be problematic in its own right). Being in the city, had the engaged woman cried out for help, someone would have heard her and stopped the rape from occurring.

Bonna Haberman, a teacher of Torah in the Boston area, noted an extraordinary implication of the Torah's assumption: in order for the Torah law to have any meaning, we have to believe that a person who hears a woman being raped will do whatever is in her or his power to save the victim. Otherwise, it would be absolutely abhorrent to put to death a woman who was an innocent party, attacked by some sexual perpetrator with no means of saving herself. (Again, some might not accept the Torah's understanding of human psychology in this particular case, which assumes that the raped woman would cry out for help if she were not a willing participant, in which case the law is problematic anyway, but that is a subject for another devar torah). To be in a "city,"-or perhaps more precisely, in a community-means being able to assume the help of others when it is most needed.

The Talmud Bavli (Sanhedrin 73a) picks up on the phrase "אֵין מוֹשִׁיעַ לָהּ" and learns from it the obligation to save a woman from being raped even if it means killing the rapist (normally, we are not allowed, let alone commanded, to kill someone to prevent them from sinning). The Talmud, working from Devarim 22:27, states: "הא יש מושיע לה - בכל דבר שיכול להושיע" ("therefore, if there is a savior, with whatever one can save" [i.e. one must do whatever one can to save the victim]). Indeed, this idea, for the Bavli, is the source also for the obligation to save someone who is about to be murdered, even if it means killing the attempted murderer. Here, then, we see a most extreme form of action demanded of us. There are times when something is so hurtful to a human being, when something is so contrary to Torah, that we are expected to take human life in order to prevent it. This view of action in the face of extreme evil seems at odds with Moshe's hesitation in acting in the case of the Egyptian taskmaster.

However, the obligation to kill in order to save another human being or to prevent some sin from occurring is mitigated as the Talmud's discussion continues. In a baraita on Sanhedrin 74a, R. Yonatan ben Shaul states that whoever can save another human being from murder by injuring the attempted murderer, but instead kills the perpetrator, is held accountable for murder. The Torah demands extreme actions from us in certain cases, but even in such situations, we must be sure that we are not overreacting. Killing an attempted murderer is permissible only when it is the only way of preventing the crime.

In light of this baraita, let's imagine one possible reconstruction of the story. Moshe sees an Egyptian beating a Hebrew-such brutality is certainly not in accordance with God's vision of the world as described in Torah. Moshe is concerned that the Hebrew may be killed, but what can he do? He first looks to see if there is anyone else around who can help; perhaps with another, he can stop the Egyptian. However, there is no one else there. "In a place where there are no leaders, try to be a leader." Moshe must act on his own, and perhaps the only way to stop this Egyptian taskmaster without the aid of another is by taking the most extreme step of killing him. Moshe's hesitancy is not a sign of weakness, cowardliness, or indecisiveness, but rather, of concern with the sanctity of human life and an awareness of the need to be thoughtful even in the most dramatic circumstances.

The story of Moshe killing the Egyptian, then, is not some Hollywood action movie. But it is also not an example of excessive indecision, of a person who thinks at the expense of acting. In drastic times, Moshe displays that heroism and thoughtfulness, reticence and decisiveness are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Indeed, the Torah demands a life that recognizes the truth and the importance of these apparent opposites.