Getting Egypt Out of You

A Simple Question There is a simple question. Its simplicity is exactly what makes it deep. The Jewish people left Egypt. They broke the chains of slavery. They passed from darkness into light. So what was still missing? What was left to finish? Why did they need one more miracle, the splitting of the Sea? The Talmud itself says that the splitting of the Sea was harder for Hashem than the Exodus itself. Here is the point, dear friend. Trouble is not only what comes at us from outside. Trouble is what stays inside after the outside has already passed. Two Kinds of Redemption The Torah portion about the journey out of Egypt tells of two redemptions. It is important to tell them apart. The first redemption was the Exodus itself, and it was a rescue. Hashem took the Jewish people out “with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” It was pure kindness from above, without the people doing anything. The promise was: “You will never see them again, ever.” That was a physical promise about the real world. But the Jewish people left Egypt, and Egypt did not leave them. The second redemption, the splitting of the Sea, was completely different. The Torah says: “They were very afraid, and the Children of Israel cried out to Hashem.” They had left. They were free. Yet the Egyptians were still chasing them, and not only in body. They were chasing them inside their own hearts. The fear was still there. “Egypt” was still there. Then Hashem said: “Why are you crying out to Me? Tell the Children of Israel to move forward.” Now you have to do something. You have to walk right into the sea. You have to break through the limits of the old reality. When it was all over, the Torah says: “Israel saw Egypt dead on the shore of the sea.” Egypt was not running away and not threatening. It was dead. It counted for nothing. Only then were the words said: “Sing to Hashem a new song.” Here is the difference. Leaving Egypt changed their situation. The splitting of the Sea changed who they were. The Egypt Inside Us Now let us speak honestly, as one friend to another. How many times have we gotten out of a hard situation? And we really did get out. Yet that same situation keeps living inside our heads. We stopped a habit that was eating away at us, and it still defines us. We left a bad environment, and we still think in its language. Egypt is no longer here. But the “Egypt” inside keeps running us from within: the mark it left on us, the old ways of thinking, the feeling of being a slave. This is exactly the difference the Tanya, the classic book of Hasidic thought, draws between subduing evil and transforming it. The Tanya describes a person in the middle, neither wicked nor fully righteous. He conquers the inner voice that pulls him toward wrong, and that is beautiful. But that voice is still there, still fully defined, still threatening. Only at the higher level, turning darkness itself into light, does the evil lose its existence. It becomes nothing. That is what happened at the splitting of the Sea. The enemy was not only defeated. The whole reality of “Egypt” became nothing in the minds of the Jewish people. In fact, what was done to the enemy outside, together with the people’s own walk into the sea, also worked deep inside their souls. Moving Forward: The Self-Sacrifice That Brings Change There is one more point here. The Exodus was entirely a kindness from above, a free gift. The splitting of the Sea came with the words “move forward.” The Jewish people walked into the sea. It needed their action and their self-sacrifice. Outer redemption can come as a gift. Inner redemption, getting the “Egypt” out of you, asks you to move. You have to leave the fear on the shore and step forward. Getting out is not enough. You have to walk into the very thing that still frightens you. On Hashem’s words “Why are you crying out to Me?”, the Hasidic work Likkutei Torah explains that prayer alone is no longer enough. There comes a moment when Hashem points at you and says: Now it is your turn. Move.