The Torah reading this week, and the broader theme of the Jews’ experiences leaving Egypt, provides insights into the modern world in some possibly unexpected ways. 

One particularly notable point is one verse that is relevant in two contrasting directions: Exodus 12:22, addressing the night of the plague of the firstborn: “None of you shall go outside the door of your house until morning.”

One explanation of this is provided in the Talmud (Bava Kama 60a), in the name of Rav Yosef “Once permission is granted to the destroyer to kill, it does not distinguish between the righteous and the wicked.” 

This difficult idea raises important questions regarding Divine morality: Does God actually endorse, and commit, an offensive that includes the unwarranted loss of innocents? This is surprising especially in light of Abraham’s argument regarding the destruction of Sedom (Gen. 18:25): “Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike. Far be it from You! Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (see Torah Temimah to Gen.)

However, the two situations are not necessarily comparable. In Sedom, God planned on apparently punishing the innocent together with the guilty, prompting Abraham's challenge. In Egypt, the concern was significantly different. The measure that needed to be taken against the Egyptians as a group was, by its nature, a blunt tool directed against a guilty collective. Those who deserve no part of their fate would not necessarily be included in it. However, this did not mean that they could endanger themselves needlessly through unprotected proximity. The plagues were a warlike environment, one that accomplishes a harsh necessary goal in a dangerous manner. It is the way of the world that such circumstances imperil all who are within reach. The guidance given to the Israelites at that time would be applicable to any battlefield.

The Talmud's explanation here of the mandate to stay inside is not the only rabbinic explanation; a number of other interpretations exist as well. For example, the Midrash Tanchuma has Moses insisting “we will not depart at night like thieves”, but openly and with dignity.

It is especially illuminating, though, to contrast that first explanation with Rabbi Soloveitchik’s interpretation of the original verse:

“Freedom does not rid a man of his morals, but on the contrary, adds to his morals. The transition from slavery to freedom is very critical. The masters who exploited, tortured, humiliated, find themselves suddenly at the mercy of the slaves to whom they showed no concern, displayed no human emotion. The natural reaction of the one who is suddenly freed is to avenge himself on the tyrant who murdered his baby who disgraced his daughter, who mercilessly beat him for any minor infraction… it is usually a bloody, ruthless, and vengeful transition.. Fear of an upheaval haunted all the tyrants of antiquity, as well as those of modern times. Rebellion meant total destruction… European history knows of the Peasants’ Rebellion in medieval Germany and of the bloody Cossack revolt in Ukraine...They were eager to settle a long account of cruelty… Did anything of that kind happen on the night of the exodus?... Did the liberated slaves set fire to the exclusive neighborhood of their former overlords? Did the teenagers at least smash the window panes of the offices where their taskmasters would assemble to plan restrictive and sadistic edicts? Nothing of the sort. Not one person was hurt, not one house destroyed. The liberated slaves had the courage to withdraw, to defy the natural call of blood... it is unique in the history of revolutions.” (Chumash Mesoras HaRav, Ex. pp. 94-95). 

Rav Soloveitchik here seems to be addressing the mentality of Frantz Fanon, who advocated violence against “oppressors” (real or perceived) as inherently justified, and preached the sanctification of violence as catharsis and moral reset. In "The Wretched of the Earth," he wrote that “violence is a cleansing force” ... that “frees the native from his inferiority complex and from his despair and inaction. It makes him fearless and restores his self-respect.” The slave must strike the master so that he can be liberated mentally. Otherwise, he remains psychologically shackled and traumatized by the perceived superiority of the oppressor. It is the mentality that typifies the contemporary terrorist, for whom oppression, resistance, and revolution are the guiding terms of behavior.

To R. Soloveitchik, this is the opposite of Jewish morality. The slave becomes free not by striking his master, but by restraining himself. The blood at his door protects not only his body but his soul as well. Through mastery over himself, he becomes truly liberated.

This echoes the interpretation R. Soloveitchik gave of the commandment that came earlier in this week's reading. The first formal commandment to the Jewish people as a whole, that of sanctifying the new moon, is formulated, “This month shall be to you…” (12:2). The Rav picked up on the deliberate phrase. The slave is now free not because he is no longer responsible, but quite to the contrary, because he is responsible;  to now exercise control over time and schedule, to not submit to the forces of nature, whether they be anger, vengeance, or simple inertia and purposelessness. Through implementing the discipline to infuse time with meaning, the once enslaved is now liberated.

The balancing of the two interpretations of the mandate to “stay inside” - the two crucial components of self-preservation - has many implications for understanding the demands of justice, the necessities of war, the realities of collective identity, the dangers of the terrorist ideology, and the balanced moral system the new nation was to embody. It was a bold new vision, then and now.