The moment we choose to speak

Finding courage in the Haggadah

There’s a fascinating debate between various sages regarding when yetziat mitzraim began. Is it with “arami oved avi”, acknowledging our humble beginnings? Or with “avadim hayinu”, starting from the depths of our oppression? Or perhaps somewhere else entirely?

This question has been on my mind, after a recent conversation with a colleague about the moment when a case shifts – that initial decision or action that alters the course of someone’s life.

For me, the exodus begins with a moment that doesn’t always get highlighted in our discussions.

Moshe, raised as an Egyptian prince with no knowledge of his Jewish identity, witnesses an Egyptian taskmaster beating a Jewish slave. Traumatic as this might sound to most of us, in Moshe’s world, this sight would have been commonplace. Ancient Egypt, like many societies of that time, ran on slave labor. There were no workers’ rights, no protections. Slaves were property, treated no better than livestock.

And yet, Moshe couldn’t stand by. He made a choice that defied logic and self-preservation. Though his position in the Egyptian elite was tenuous (according to most commentators, he knew he was adopted), he acted anyway, killing the taskmaster to defend the slave.

Moshe refused to be a bystander.

He spoke out when silence would have been safer.
He took action when inaction would have preserved his privilege.
He paid a heavy price and was forced to flee everything he’d ever known, living in exile for years before eventually returning to lead our redemption.
But in that moment, he set in motion events that would change not just his life but the course of our nation’s history.
I believe that moment of courage, that refusal to remain silent in the face of injustice, was when our liberation truly began.

The phone calls that change everything

I think this story resonates with me so deeply because our hotline rings with moments of courage that feel similar to me, every day. Most calls represent someone who has made the painful decision to speak out about sexual abuse – a topic that would be so much easier, so much more convenient, to keep quiet. They choose to take action with that one call, not knowing where it will lead.

I think about the mother who called after her husband confessed to molesting their daughter. She was aware this was a mandated reporting situation, and that calling us would initiate a chain of events that might rip her family apart. She was terrified. She called anyway.

I think about the young man who called and asked to meet with us, bringing his young wife and their new baby. He had been abused by his Rosh Yeshiva, and the community leadership had been paying him off for years. Though he was desperate for the financial assistance he refused to touch the funds, choosing instead to seek out our help in reporting his abuser. He knew the community might shun him, and he might be forced to move and find a new job…but this man was still a risk. So he couldn’t stay silent.

Many survivors look back on that first disclosure as the beginning of a painful but necessary journey; they’re breaking free from secrets that kept them trapped.
They make these calls without the luxury of hindsight. They don’t know if there will be a “happy ending”; they just know they cannot stay silent and tolerate any status quo where there is continued abuse and injustice.

The call we must all answer

This Pesach, as we reread the Haggadah, I invite you to consider:
What are the moments in your own life when you had to speak out against injustice? When have you stood at that crossroads between comfortable silence and risky truth?

Preventing sexual abuse in our communities isn’t just about the brave individuals who call our hotline.
It’s about all of us refusing to be bystanders.

It’s about creating communities where victims don’t have to be quite so brave to come forward, because they know they’ll be believed and supported.
Or the community member who raises concerns about someone who is exhibiting serious red flags. Just as Moshe’s action set in motion the redemption of an entire people, each time one of us speaks up, we move our communities one step closer to safety and justice.

At Magen, we have the privilege of seeing this ripple effect in action. But while we’re helping more survivors than ever before, we’re also running up against a challenge: our network of supporters and ambassadors is concentrated primarily in central Israel.

Widening our circle of protection

Sexual abuse doesn’t just happen in one city or one type of community – it happens everywhere, and we need representatives everywhere to stay effective.
This is where you come in.
Your personal connections mean more than any outreach we could do. Can you think of just one person in your network who lives in a community where Magen doesn’t have a presence yet?

Someone who cares about protecting children and taking responsibility? Maybe they can host a chug bayit (educational workshop for parents).

Someone compassionate and empathetic, open to an opportunity to offer direct support to incredibly brave survivors? Consider signing up for our next volunteer training, which trains people just like you to man our hotline during off-hours and support victims in court.

Someone with a wide network and voice who believes in putting our money where our mouth is? We’d love to have you as an ambassador for our upcoming awareness and fundraising campaign at the end of May.

You know the people in your life who have that perfect combination of compassion, determination, and community standing to help us expand our programs and safety nets for survivors. We’d love to have you, reach out!

God called Moshe with a burning bush, but God’s calls to action aren’t always quite so dramatic. Sometimes it’s through the quiet inner voice of your intuition, telling you that you have the power to help meet that need.

May we all have the courage to heed God’s calls to act, and may this Pesach bring personal and collective freedom for all those who so desperately need it.