Brief – One Concept a Day: The Commandment to Remember our Liberation from Slavery. What is my personal obligation, and what wonder unfolds when the spirit moves in the right direction?

Nir Topper
1 hour ago
3 min read

The biblical description of the People of Israel as slaves in Egypt is extraordinary in the history of nations. While many national myths begin with glorious royal dynasties or tales of heroism, the Jewish tradition chose to place the memory of slavery and subjugation at the very foundation of its identity. The first commandment to remember this appears as early as the Book of Exodus, at the very moment of the departure: "And Moses said unto the people, Remember this day, in which ye came out from Egypt, out of the house of bondage" (Exodus 13:3).

This commandment echoes repeatedly throughout Jewish sources across the generations as the bedrock of a just society:

In the Bible: Social justice and the treatment of the stranger, the orphan, and the widow are anchored in this same memory: "But thou shalt remember that thou wast a bondman in Egypt... therefore I command thee to do this thing" (Deuteronomy 24:18).

In the Mishnah and Talmud: The Sages transformed historical memory into a personal and contemporary duty for every single year: "In every generation, a person is obligated to see themselves as if they had personally gone out of Egypt" (Mishnah, Pesachim 10:5). Furthermore, Tractate Pesachim (116a) emphasizes that one must begin the story of the Exodus with "disgrace" (the slavery and subjugation) and conclude with "praise" (the freedom), ensuring that the moral memory of oppression serves as the starting point for any celebration of liberty.

In Modern Philosophy and Poetry: The memory of slavery has become a central tool in the struggle for human rights and identity:

Abraham Joshua Heschel: The theologian and philosopher who embodied the connection between the Exodus and the global struggle against oppression. When he marched with Martin Luther King Jr. from Selma to Montgomery, he wrote that he felt his "legs were praying." In his writings, he emphasized that God identifies with the suffering and the oppressed because He is the God who liberates slaves.

Emmanuel Levinas: The French-Jewish philosopher saw the experience of "Egypt" (strangeness/alterity) as the basis for absolute responsibility toward "the Other." To him, the very memory that we were strangers in Egypt morally binds us to every human being by virtue of their humanity (a concept appearing throughout his works, including Difficult Freedom and his series of Talmudic Readings).

Yehuda Amichai: In his poetry, Amichai brings the national myth down to the level of daily Israeli life. He reminds us that historical memory is not merely a ceremony, but "heavy cargo" that we carry with us—an image that appears, for instance, in his poem "The Jews" (from the collection Even a Fist Was Once an Open Palm with Fingers)—obligating us to simple human compassion within the complex reality of this land.

The way I was raised by my parents positions Judaism as a source of learning, modesty, humility, taking responsibility, and action—that is, practical deeds. To learn and to do, to do and to learn. To learn and to do, to do and to learn. All of this within modesty and humility, and from the knowledge that we are no better than anyone else. In those moments where fate has been kind to us, and in the places where we have been granted an uplifted spirit, soul, and body—in those places, we are even more obligated to take responsibility and to act.

I feel it is my personal duty, as a member of a group endowed with strength, power, and capability, to remember that I, personally, came from places of dependence, subjugation, persecution, and destruction.

And I feel it is my personal duty, as a member of a group endowed with strength, power, and capability, to remember that I, personally, am committed to doing everything I know and am capable of so that no one ever feels that way because of me, and to assist anyone I meet on my path so they do not find themselves in a state of helplessness.

And sometimes, a great miracle happens and the wind decides to blow in the right direction; then, for fleeting touches in time, for fractions of moments, I am granted spiritual transcendence when I feel—for a heartbeat—that I have succeeded.

In the photos: My parents, Bracha and Eli, who are everything that I am.