Unlikely heroes

Moses was an unlikely Jewish hero. His very name evokes the Nile, the heart of Egyptian power and paganism. Even when God called upon him to lead, he doubted his own abilities. And yet, that unlikely hero stood up to an empire and led the Jewish people to their destiny.

In fact, all our spring holidays declare that those who change the course of history are often the less obvious choices. Instead, they may be people with complicated commitments, those who wonder, “Am I really the right person for this?”

On Purim, it was Mordechai and Esther — named after the Babylonian gods, Marduk and Ishtar – who became central to Jewish survival. God’s name does not appear in the Megillah, and their own Jewish identities seem quite thin in the text. Yet they stood up for Jewish collective survival.

And on Shavuot, Ruth the Moabite — an outsider born to a nation marked as nefarious in the Torah – appeared as a paragon of integrity, generosity and loyalty. She was blessed to be like Rachel and Leah, the very founders of the Jewish people, and became the matriarch of the Davidic line.

In fact, the improbability of these heroes may have even contributed to their success.

Moses was empowered to intervene against an Egyptian taskmaster striking an Israelite because he had not grown up as a slave himself. Mordechai and Esther’s layered identities allowed Esther to win over the king and Mordechai to become viceroy. And Ruth never wavered perhaps because, as an outsider looking to cross the Rubicon, there was no room for ambivalence. She had to go “all in.”

This moment in Jewish life calls for leadership that stands up for Jewish civil rights, for Israel’s future and for moral clarity. We need leaders who will confront injustice, whether it comes from outside or from within.

And yet, in difficult times, our instinct is often the opposite.

In moments like these – of uncertainty, instability and overwhelm — many of us choose to retreat, to shrink our radius. The risks seem too high, the responsibility too heavy and the problems too great. So we stay small. We tiptoe between the raindrops.

It is easier to sit in my miklat – my shelter – than to step outside and try to shape the society around me. Intimidation and violence tell me to withdraw from public space rather than to insist on Jews’ place within it. Strident antizionism signals that I should camouflage my own support for Israel. We try to convince ourselves that the problems will recede. Someone else – more qualified or more powerful – will take care of it.

But we must not give in to that instinct.

Our history is filled with heroes who acted despite the fear, doubt and unreadiness in their hearts.

And none of our heroes could have succeeded on their own. Others believed in them, pushed them to take a risk, and promised to stand beside them.

Moses resisted his calling, insisting he was not a man of words. But God promised to be steadfast. And Aaron served as Moses’ ally throughout. Esther did not see herself as a savior. But Mordechai persuaded her of the urgency and the opportunity of the moment. And the Jewish community of Shushan fasted for three days (!) on her behalf, allowing her to enter Ahashverosh’s chambers buoyed by their support. Ruth had no reason to believe she would become anything more than an outsider gleaning in the fields. But once she committed to joining the Jewish people, Naomi learned to encourage her. And Boaz, the ultimate insider, chose to risk and leverage his own status by embracing her.

None of these people was the obvious choice for leadership.

They became leaders because they were emboldened by others not to hide. Because those whom they trusted in turn trusted them. Because they recognized that what appears as a flaw may actually be an advantage. And sometimes those who feel less entitled to lead may be best suited for it. After all, Moses, the man sent by God to transform the Jewish future, is defined as “very humble, more so than any other person (Numbers 12:3).”

Today, Jews are again being tested.

But when standing up feels daunting and even dangerous, we must ask ourselves not “Are we ready?” but “Are we willing?”

Willing to speak when silence feels safer.
Willing to show up when it would be easier to retreat.

Willing to support those who stand up rather than tearing them down.

The lesson of this season is not that heroes are inevitable, fearless iconoclasts. It is that they are forged by necessity, resourcefulness, and community.

We do not need to be perfect. We do not need to be certain.

We only need to decide that this moment — and our responsibility within it — is ours to meet.

And meet it we must.