Beshalach: Our Bechira Point, On Immigration and Fascism

There is a thunderous crashing sound as the waves fall upon themselves, separated and split by an unseen force. Like a million waves breaking all at once. The walls of water are not smooth like the walls of our hut. The water constantly shifts and shudders, struggling to bridge the gap but held back like a rabid dog. The sandy sea floor is still wet. Those ahead of me begin walking, their feet sticking to the soupy sand, leaving behind perfect footprints. I cannot see Pharaoh’s army behind me in the thick of night, but I can hear them: the men shouting, the horses snorting, the chariot wheels creaking. I know they are close. I close my eyes and take a breath. I do not trust this hallway of water. There is still time to turn back. What shall I do? 

We make a million choices every day. Many of them we make without thinking – time to eat, time to sleep, time to breathe, time to blink. Others require only a split-second of thought. To snooze or not to snooze. To brush your teeth before or after coffee. What to have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

And then there are choices that we wrestle with. Some are mundane: what color curtains go best in this room? And some are much more serious: what do we do when we witness our country falling into fascism?

In the Jewish ethical tradition of Mussar, there is a concept called a bechira point. Bechira means choice, but it is not just any choice. It is a choice that defines who we are, a choice which changes our trajectory, a choice we cannot take back.

This week we observed International Holocaust Remembrance Day. Viktor Frankl, psychologist, scholar, and Holocaust survivor, wrote: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

We are making bechira point choices all the time, whether we realize it or not. 

On this Shabbat we read from Beshalach, the portion where the Israelites cross the Red Sea and transition from enslaved individuals to a free people. Every person had a choice to make: do they step into the split sea, with the mighty waters surrounding them? Or do they stay back and take their chances with Pharaoh’s army?

It may not seem like much of a choice to the Israelites. They had been persecuted and enslaved, their lives were bitter and hard, and they had yearned for freedom for so long. 

But the people crossing the sea were not all Israelites. We learn the portion before that those leaving Egypt are an erev rav, a mixed multitude, individuals of many backgrounds.

Who are these people? At first glance one may think they are opportunists looking for a better life. But this doesn’t seem to be the case. They brought with them a great number of livestock, something the enslaved Israelites did not have a lot of.

As Mr. Rogers said, when we feel afraid or hopeless, we should look for the helpers. This erev rav were our helpers. They brought everything they had and joined their fate with ours.

The Israelites’ bechira point was not much of a choice. I imagine they ran into the sea as if their lives depended on it, because they did. Although the choice ultimately changed their lives, it probably was not something most of them wrestled with.

But the helpers. I imagine they saw the sea and paused. This was not what they anticipated when they joined the freedom march. Pharaoh was not after them; perhaps it would be better to turn back. This was not a choice of life or death: it was a choice of good or evil. And sometimes evil is the safe choice.

When we read these words today, we may be tempted to identify with our ancestors. We want to see ourselves on the shore of the sea, making the choice to run toward liberation. But most of us are not the Israelites in this story, not now. Most of us are not making a choice of life or death.

The majority of white Jews in the United States are the erev rav; we are the helpers. Even if we are not being enslaved or pursued, we have the opportunity to journey alongside the oppressed to help them toward liberation. We can give material goods and financial help. We can serve as lookout to see when Pharaoh’s army approaches, and give warning to the others. For those of us among the erev rav, we are not choosing between life or death. We have an even harder decision to make: do we choose good, despite the risks to ourselves, our belongings, and our futures? Or do we choose evil, preserving the status quo, sacrificing liberty but saving ourselves?

The struggle toward liberation is happening right now. The sea is parted before us, but most of us are not the ones who need the passage. And the ones of us who do need passage need helpers now more than ever. For those of us in the erev rav, our friends, family, and neighbors are asking for our help. We have come to our crossroads, our bechira point, a decision which will change our lives forever. The terrifying walls of water are in front of us, and Pharaoh’s army is closing in. Others have already begun to run for their lives. The time to choose is now: will we be the helpers, or will we preserve the status quo?