Let My People Go: The Exodus, Get-Refusal, and Freedom

The Exodus from Egypt was a triumph of freedom—but it was also an agonizing process. As we see in our parsha this week, the Israelites knew they could no longer endure the tyranny and humiliation of slavery, yet their path to liberation was not immediate. It took ten devastating plagues before Pharaoh was finally convinced to let them go. Ten plagues to break his will; to force him to acknowledge that their freedom was tied to his own, that only through their release could his own people’s suffering end. And even then, his heart remained heavy, his resolve wavering. Again and again, he relented—only to harden his heart once more, plunging both his people and the Israelites into further suffering.

From an outside perspective, it seems incomprehensible. The truth was clear: freedom is a fundamental human right. If the end was inevitable, why delay it? Why not minimize the pain? How much anguish could have been avoided if Pharaoh had simply let the Israelites go from the start?

Perhaps we can imagine a different version of the Exodus. The Israelites had originally arrived in Egypt seeking refuge from famine, welcomed by a lost brother and embraced with open arms. For a time, they flourished alongside the Egyptians. But then, fear and hatred took root. A new Pharaoh arose, one who “did not know Joseph.” Suspicion grew, and the once-harmonious coexistence became strained. The Israelites did everything they could to maintain peace, but the divide had already become too great.

What if, in that moment, Pharaoh had listened? What if, before his heart had hardened, Moses had approached him and said, “Let my people go,” and Pharaoh— understanding that separation was necessary for both peoples to thrive—had agreed? The Israelites would have left with excitement and a touch of sadness for what had been, and both nations would have embarked on new paths, free to forge their own futures without the destruction that followed.

At Yad La’isha, we meet women every day who, like the Israelites, seek to leave behind a life that no longer serves them. Some have endured years of emotional, financial, or even physical abuse. Others have simply watched their marriages disintegrate, the love and friendship long gone. After much thought and deliberation, they reach a firm decision: it is time to move on. But then, like Pharaoh, their husbands refuse to let them go.

Get-refusal is a form of bondage. Jewish law requires a husband to grant his wife a get before she can remarry or build a new life. Yet some men refuse, leaving their wives trapped, unable to move forward. Jewish law allows rabbinical courts to impose sanctions on these men, and often, the mere threat of consequences is enough to convince them to relent. But others are more like Pharaoh: even with sanction after sanction, penalty after penalty, these men harden their hearts and refuse to release their wives. Even when they themselves suffer—through social ostracism, fines, job loss, and imprisonment—their stubbornness blinds them to the harm they inflict not only on their wives but also on themselves.

Women trapped in these situations attend hearing after hearing, hoping that this time, they will receive the long-awaited get, only to be devastated again and again. But just as the Israelites ultimately found their way to freedom, so too do these women. Through legal advocacy, strategic action, and unwavering support, we must continue to help women confront these modern-day Pharaohs, pushing relentlessly until justice is achieved.

The Exodus reminds us that freedom is not always granted easily. But it also teaches us that persistence, faith, and the unwavering pursuit of justice will, in the end, overcome even the hardest of hearts.