02 Jan THEY DON’T WANT TO KNOW

Sefer Shemos, the making of our nation.
Shemos is also known as Sefer HaGeula, the
Book of Redemption. Shemos takes us from
the brutal, bitter slave camps of Egypt,
through the miraculous Exodus, to the historic
event of Matan Torah.
“Vayokom melech chodosh, A new king
arose…, asher lo yodah es Yosef, who didn’t
know Yosef.” (Shemos 1:8)
Didn’t know Yosef? How could it be? What
nation doesn’t know its history? Do we not
know who George Washington was? Abraham
Lincoln? How could it be that a king in Egypt
was not aware of Yosef, a larger than life
leader who brought survival and blessing to
Egypt during a time of famine? How could it
be that he was not aware of Yosef?
With just a few, short, concise words, Rashi
explains it all. It is the story of our people,
time and time again. “Oso atzmo k’ilu lo
yoda, He made himself as if he didn’t know.”
How many times in our nation’s history have
we given of ourselves to society, only to be
conveniently forgotten about – and even
worse, turned against. What happened in

Egypt happened again in Spain, in Italy, in
France, in Germany and Eastern Europe. And
today, with Israel’s Arab neighbors.
Irit Lahav is a survivor of the terrorist attack
on Kibbutz Nir Oz. In an interview, she spoke
of the thoughts going through her head, while
hiding in a safe room on that fateful day. She
heard gunshot after gunshot, heavy artillery,
grenades exploding, and wild screams in
Arabic. All she kept on thinking was, WHY?
How can this be happening? Why are they
doing this to us? Don’t the Palestinians know
that she and so many members of the kibbutz
were supportive of them? She spoke of driving
to the Israeli-Gaza border together with
Yocheved, an eighty-five year taken hostage.
Together, they would pick up Palestinians
waiting at the Erez crossing and drive them to
medical centers and top hospitals in Israel for
cancer and other lifesaving treatments.
Irit wasn’t the only survivor who voiced these
sentiments. Another woman spoke of the
kindness done in the name of peace. The toys,
the clothing and even the financial assistance
given to the Gazans, and their children.
Thoughts while being shot at in a safe room.
Irit continued, and spoke of being afraid for
her life. Was she living her last moments? The
interviewer asked her, “How do you process

it?” Without hesitation, she replied, “I
realized they really hate us. They really
hate us. I thought most of them were
peace-loving people…. But no, the
Palestinian public really hates us.” As
the ancient Egyptians before them, they
didn’t want to know.
Each day, more and more news stories
come out, detailing the barbaric
atrocities committed by the terrorists.
Terrible acts of violence, beheadings,
dismembering of bodies, burning
people alive, acts of horror to women
and children that I can’t even write
about, desecrating bodies after death….
The list goes on and on. Crimes against
humanity.
Where is the global uproar? We only have to
look at the Chumash for an answer. Asher lo
yodah, they made themselves not to know.
This past week, I received an email. A father
telling me about his eight-year old child who
befriended a little Muslim girl from Kuwait.
She and her family were living here
temporarily while she underwent treatment
for a medical condition. All was good. They
were “besties”, until the Muslim child starting
texting “Free Palestine…. Israel is garbage…”
and other hateful messages to his daughter.
Where does a little girl get that from? What
does she want from an eight-year-old
American, he pondered. I sent him a copy
of Irit’s interview. “They really hate us.”
The little Muslim girl was echoing
sentiments she hears at home. Words of hate
passed down from her parents. Her culture.
There are even children’s TV shows in
Arabic glorifying acts of terrorism. School
curriculums and textbooks that teach Jew
hate and promote an anti-Israel attitude.
From our ancestors’ time in Egypt to the
twenty-first century, the narrative doesn’t
change.
In this week’s parsha, we meet another
young girl. A girl full of emunah and
bitachon. A girl imbued with a spirit of life
and a love for her people. We meet Miriam.
Life in Egypt was becoming increasingly
difficult for Bnei Yisroel. The Midrash tells

us that after long days of hard, back-
breaking labor for the king, Bnei Yisroel

were forced to work additional hours in the
homes and fields of the Egyptians. They
came up with one form of cruelty after
another, just to oppress and persecute the
Jewish people. The Egyptians played with
their minds, trying to destroy their spirit.
This was the Egypt that Amram and
Yocheved lived in. The Egypt Miriam grew
up in.
When Pharaoh didn’t succeed in breaking
them with slavery, he enacted a new law.
Every newborn baby boy was to be cast into
the Nile.

Amram was the leader his generation. In a
state of despair, he asked himself, how can
one bring life into a world where there was no
hope for tomorrow? What kind of future
would the next generation have? It was then
that Amram divorced his wife, Yocheved.
When people saw what Amram did, they
followed his lead. Couple after couple
separated.
It was young Miriam who turned to her father
and spoke up with strength. She told him that
his decision was harsher than Pharaoh’s
decrees. Pharaoh’s edict affected only the
baby boys, while breaking apart homes was
preventing the birth of both boys and girls.
Moreover, while Pharaoh’s edicts would
deprive newborn males of their physical life
in this world, don’t deny their neshamos a
place in Olam Habah, the World to Come.
Miriam’s words penetrated Amram’s heart.
He saw the truth in her plea. He became
fortified with renewed emunah.
“A man went from the house of Levi and took
a daughter of Levi.” (Shemos 2:1) Amram
remarried Yocheved. A beautiful chuppa was
built. A chasuna was had with Miriam and
Aaron joyfully dancing for their parents.
Upon witnessing this, everyone else remarried
their wives.
The birth of Moshe followed. The Chumash
says “ki tov hu, that he was good.” Rashi tells
us that their house became filled with light.
Every neshama that comes into this world
brings with it its own bracha, its own mazel. A
light in the house.
We have recently seen so much tragedy. So
many Jewish lives snuffed out. So much evil
perpetrated by those who chose to forget how
much they benefited from the goodness of
their Jewish neighbors.
Amram and Yocheved’s story is the story of
our nation. The strength of a people who
continue on when all looks bleak.
There are so many “war weddings” happening
in Eretz Yisroel. Soldiers returning home for a
day, just to get married. To celebrate life. The
message of Miriam lives on.