Moses at the burning bush. A symbol of hope in response to fear. Last week,  I saw how it works.

We live next door to a wonderful family. Two parents and three sons. One son is a teen, and two are young adults. The parents live upstairs. And the sons live in the basement suite.

Last week, the parents were away.

No, this is not a party story.

I am a very light sleeper. Something happened 40 years ago. And I am still afraid. So, every little noise sounds big. Even a very quiet sound wakes me.

So, it’s the middle of the night. I’m sleeping lightly. But I wake up because I hear a glass fall. And then, the faint sound of an alarm.

So, I run downstairs to the kitchen to see what is happening. Nothing. My house is quiet. But through my kitchen window, I see the basement kitchen next door. It is so bright. And the flashing light pattern is unmistakable. A kitchen fire.

So, I start to run out the back door to help. Then realize I would be running barefoot on ice in the dark. I would fall and help no one. So, I reach down to grab my boots. And by the time I look up again, the young men are on it. One brother is calmly tossing buckets of water towards the fire. Another points the fire extinguisher. His stance is perfect. If fire-extinguishing were a sport, he would be a black belt.

They do not need my help.

If you want to get metaphorical, you could say: fear lit a fire in their hearts. It found plenty of emotional energy to burn. So they rose to the occasion. They focused. Problem-solved. Fixed things.

That’s how fear works. Sometimes. Like in an emergency. But fear can also drag on. It can become chronic. Burn up all our emotional reserves.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook described this kind of fear perfectly. He was the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine, in our historic land of Israel, early 20^th century. Rav Kook said:

Fear can be a cruel thing. When it overflows its boundaries, it drains our life force. It changes our perception. Under its influence, every little setback seems huge. Until the world itself seems fundamentally terrible. Eventually, we look for the evil intent behind anything good. We become cynical. Finally, it seems pointless to work towards change.

We no longer rise to the occasion, like my young neighbours did. Maybe we once had a fire in our hearts. But all our fuel is now burned away.

In our world, this cynicism is growing. Politicians literally stoke fear in order to divide us. So that we can’t organize ourselves to act. Then, we feel powerless. And, eventually, we become too cynical even to believe that change is possible. If we have freedom, we just want to use it to live our lives.

Who are these politicians? In our time, they are oligarchs. Unimaginably wealthy people who want to use the world’s creatures for their own profit. Or, in Torah speak, they are Pharaohs.

Pharaoh uses fear to disable the Israelites. He makes them work slave labor. Hires managers to beat them if they don’t produce. Sends soldiers to invade their homes and take their children. And, if they complain, Pharaoh doubles down on the abuse. So that all their hope is burned away.

So that they believed they had no future. They lived in despair. But only because, as the Piaseczner Rebbe wrote in 1943 from the Warsaw Ghetto, they lost their spiritual perception. They could not see what we can, as we look back. That their suffering would end. Their community would have a future. They would not be consumed.

So here is Moses. An activist for slave’s rights living in exile. Wanted in Egypt for the murder of an abusive manager. He made a grand entrance in Midian advocating for women’s rights. But he has started a family. And he seems to have settled down.

Until, one day, he has a vision. He sees a bush that burns but is not consumed. He runs over to the burning bush get a closer look. And he hears a sound. It’s a voice calling him back to activism. As if to say, “Moses! Your people will not be consumed. Because a fire burns in your heart. It still has plenty of fuel. Use it to focus. Get into position. Do what needs to be done. There’s more to freedom than just living your life. You can make the future possible for others. I know it – because future is my name. I will be what I will be.”

And you know what? Moses is afraid. But he does not let the fear overwhelm him. He still sees the good that is possible. So, like my young neighbours, he rises to the occasion. Will we?

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Originally offered as a dvar Torah (sermon) for Parshat Shemot at Beth Tikvah Congregation, Richmond, BC. Thanks to: Rabbi Adam Rubin for welcoming me; Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan for introducing me to this text by Rav Kook; Rabbi Elliot Ginsberg for studying it with me.