This morning’s Torah reading presents the call of Moses. After killing an Egyptian taskmaster who was
brutally beating a defenceless Israelite slave, Moses flees to the desert. Coming across the Midianites dwelling in
their oasis, he takes Tzipporah for his wife.
He settles comfortably into the life of a desert herdsman. But in today’s reading, we see that God has
bigger things in mind for Moses – much bigger things.
Mosheh Rabbeinu is
not destined to live out a quiet life as a nomadic herdsman in his
father-in-law’s household. No, his destiny
is to return to Egypt. To take his place
as leader of the People Israel. To stand
up to Pharaoh and force him to release the Israelites from their servitude. To lead the people to their Promised
Land. It’s quite a formidable
challenge.
Moses understandably
wishes not to take it on. It is an
important measure of the man, that he sees himself as unworthy of the
task. But it is an equally important
measure of the man, that he ultimately does accept it.
And each one of us
has a calling. But in our lifetimes,
many of us will not take up that calling.
Perhaps we are not listening for it.
Perhaps we do hear clearly what our calling is, but we really want
to do something else.
Moses could have
refused his calling. But that’s not the
kind of person Moses is. If he had been that
kind of person, the kind to demure from his calling, then he would have
been consigned to anonymity. He would
have failed to live up to his destiny.
We would not even remember his name.
As I have said
before, each one of us is not supposed to be a Moses. But each one of us has a unique destiny. A unique calling. A unique bit of good we’re offered as our
legacy to the world. But we’re not forced
to take it up. Just as Moses was
inclined to do, we may refuse it. Perhaps,
because our challenge seems insurmountable. Or perhaps, because we’ve simply got other
plans, other things we’d rather do.
It’s easy – all too
easy – to think that this life is all about me. To spend our lives pursuing whatever it is
that feeds our immediate pleasures. Or
our long-term ambitions. But that’s not
what Moses did. He accepted the unique
challenge that was presented to him. Had
he not, then perhaps God would have found someone else willing to take on the
challenge. Just as Mordechai admonishes
his niece, Esther in the fourth chapter of the book we read on the Feast of
Purim. Remember? If you hold your peace at this time, then
relief and deliverance will come to the Jews, but you and your father’s house
will perish, and who knows but that you have been elevated to your position for
exactly this purpose? Mordechai’s
message is that the Jewish people will be saved. But if Esther will shy away from her role in
it, someone else will be raised up to take the challenge. In that way, Mordechai is appealing to different
aspects of Esther’s character. Had Moses
not agreed to take on his role then someone else would have been found. But in the end, it wasn’t necessary.
Each one of us has a
purpose for his life. It is easy to lose
sight of this reality as we bury ourselves in the minutiae of our lives. Perhaps we are not even looking for
that purpose. Perhaps, having a sense of
what it is, we rebel against it. But for
each of us, a nexus of talents, interests and desires offers us a unique way to
make a contribution to this world. A
contribution that will somehow, in some small way, change the world for the
better.
It would be
presumptuous of me to try to tell you what your purpose, your unique
calling, would be. It’s difficult enough
for me to know my purpose, my calling. But I believe I finally have clarity on it,
because the experiences I’ve had since entering the rabbinate have opened my
eyes to what I’m capable of. And what I
can tolerate. And what I can’t. But this clarity wasn’t easy to attain. Some people attain this clarity at an early
age. Some of us are lucky to attain it
while we still have some remaining vigour to see it happen.
It’s easy to dismiss
this entire enterprise. After all, our
Christian neighbours see the ideal calling as something that is all-consuming. As something that pushes aside the possibility
of any ‘normalcy’ in life. My Catholic
colleagues give up sex, marriage, and children for their callings. Some even consign themselves to a life of
material poverty. Many of my Protestant colleagues
give up any semblance of financial security for their callings. In our world, all of the above are not
sacrifices we’re called upon to make. Strangely
enough, that fact often causes our fellow Jews – not our Christian
neighbours – to call into question the sincerity of our callings. If it’s really a calling, I’m supposed to live
in poverty for it? Or to live a dry,
celibate life? But there’s nothing in
our tradition that teaches that. What
our tradition does teach is that when we have discerned our calling, we
are supposed to devote ourselves to it heart and soul. To search for ways, perhaps unforeseen ways,
to live it out.
Moses acceptance of
his calling, precluded his pursuing a quiet life as a herdsman. But it did not mean a retreat from all
semblance of a ‘normal’ life. He still
had a wife, raised at least one child, and clearly had his own priorities and
desires. In following his calling, he
was not expected to submerge all that.
Perhaps knowing
that, we can be freer to follow our own callings. Perhaps if we take Moses’ example to heart, we
can be more open to the unique challenges that present themselves to us. Responding to your calling does not
necessarily consign you to an ascetic life. In fact, in our tradition the only ascetics,
the Nazirites, were cautioned to make this ascetic phase of their lives of a
definite, and limited duration.
A calling is a
precious thing. If we’re open to it, it
will to some degree define the person that we become. It will be an important legacy that we
leave. But it won’t be all, that defines us. In that sense, we should not fear it. If we are lucky enough to discern our calling
with clarity, we should have the trust and confidence to pursue it. As Moses did, even though his initial
instinct was to run from it. Shabbat shalom.
No comments:
Post a Comment