Muslim and Jewish Families Save Each Other, 50 Years Apart
5 min read
Imagine you’re teleported to Auschwitz, 1944. You have ten minutes with the prisoners. What would you tell them?
Let the weight of that question settle for a moment.
In this week’s Torah portion, we find a profound insight into human connection and the true nature of leadership - one that transforms how we might approach this impossible opportunity.
In the opening chapters of Exodus, we witness the Jewish people's rapid spiral into unbearable suffering. Pharaoh's initial economic decrees against the Jews escalate into full-scale genocide, targeting every male Jewish infant in an effort to murder the future redeemer of Israel. Against all odds, Moses emerges unscathed, saved by Pharaoh’s own daughter and, ironically, raised in the palace of Pharaoh himself.
Though sheltered within the palace walls, his Jewish identity hidden from Pharaoh, Moses ventures out to witness his people's suffering. The Torah's description of this moment contains a profound truth: "When Moses grew up, he went out to his kinsfolk and saw in their burdens (וירא בסבלתם)."1 This peculiar phrasing - not that he saw their burdens, but that he saw in their burdens - catches Rashi's attention. The seemingly superfluous letter beit (ב) (meaning "in") teaches us that Moses didn't merely observe their suffering; he immersed himself within it: "He set his eyes and mind to share in their distress." The future leader of Israel did not begin with speeches, but with the profound act of emotional relatedness.
We've all gone through major life struggles. Think about the person who helped you most during such a time. Did they bombard you with advice? Stoically assure you everything would be fine?
Years ago, as I grappled with a devastating loss, a Rabbi I barely knew reached out. When he opened up about facing the same struggles, I felt my world expand. I wasn't alone anymore. The uphill climb suddenly felt conquerable because I had an ally who truly understood my pain. He lifted me from despair not through solutions, but through the exalted quality of empathy.
This quality of deep empathy – what our Sages call "nosei b'ol" - carrying the burden of one's fellow – transcends mere sympathy. Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe identifies it as the highest form of human achievement, the quality that most closely mirrors Divine attributes. He explains that when we truly enter into another's pain, we shine hope and warmth into their suffering and loneliness. Then, something miraculous happens - we lighten their burden without needing to say a word or offer solutions.
What then are the right words to say to someone in Auschwitz? None. At least not at first. Before we speak, we must first experience and appreciate the suffering of our brethren. Only after establishing this connection of shared pain can we begin to speak of hope and future redemption.
And what happens to someone who masters this exalted quality? When God appears to Moses at the burning bush, the text tells us that "God saw that Moses turned aside to see." The Midrash2 reveals a deeper meaning: God saw that Moses had turned aside from his privileged life as a prince to share in the suffering of his people. It was this act of radical empathy - choosing to leave his comfort to truly share his people's pain - that made him worthy of becoming their redeemer.
The next time a spouse, friend, family member, or co-worker shares his or her pain with you, pause. Resist the immediate urge to offer solutions. Instead, practice the holy art of “nosei b’ol”: step into their world, share their burden, and create a space where healing can begin naturally through the power of genuine empathy.
This is not merely a technique for offering comfort – it is, as Moses’ story teaches us, the very foundation of redemption itself. In a world often marked by disconnection and casual sympathy, the practice of deep empathy becomes nothing less than revolutionary. Through it, we not only heal individual pain but participate in the gradual process of world-repair, hastening the day of ultimate redemption.
Shabbat Shalom!
Avraham
Inspired by the teachings of Rabbi Beryl Gershenfeld
