I have to confess that I have been feeling pretty down over the past few weeks.

After
nearly two years of Covid, and just recently beginning to feel a sense of normalcy, starting this
secular new year back in a state of fear and frustration makes it difficult to say the words “Happy
New Year” with a full heart.
And yet, such trials are not foreign to the world nor to the Jewish people, whether in
contemporary history or ancient legend. Our parasha, Va-era, begins in a moment where the
Israelites momentary hope for redemption has been crushed under the ordered intensification of
their brutal oppression. At the end of the previous portion, Moshe and Aharon’s attempt to free
the people has been greeted by Pharaoh’s order that they now be forced to find their own straw to
make the bricks for their building projects, where previously the material was provided them.
Our parsha then begins with God’s affirmation that he will free them with signs and wonders and
bring them into the promised land.
However, when Moshe delivers these good tidings to the people, it is not well received.
Exodus Ch. 6, verse 9 recounts:

‫ׁשמְע ּ֙ו אֶ ל־מ ֹ ֶׁ֔שה ִמ ּ֣ק ֹצֶר ֔רּו ַח ּו ֵמעֲב ָ ֹ֖דה ק ָָׁשֽה׃‬
ֽ ָ ‫ַוי ְדַ ּבֵ ֥ר מ ֶ ֹׁ֛שה ֵ ּ֖כן אֶ ל־ּב ְֵנ֣י יִׂש ְָר ֵ ֑אל וְֹל֤ א‬
But when Moses told this to the Israelites, they would not listen to
Moses, their spirits crushed by cruel bondage.

While the New JPS translation above translates the reason for their inability to listen into one
compound phrase— “their spirits crushed by cruel bondage”—the Hebrew actually gives two
distinct reasons they could not listen: “ַ‫”ּק ֹצֶר ֔רּוח‬
֣ and “‫”עֲב ָ ֹ֖דה ק ָָׁשֽה‬. So what exactly is kotzer ruach?
Literally, the words translate into narrowness of spirit. The Koren Jerusalem Bible adds some
nuance by translating it as “anguish of spirit.” Rashi elaborates on this idea, explaining this
difficult turn of phrase in a more physical sense:

‫ ְואֵינֹו י ָכֹול ְל ַהא ֲִריְך ִּבנְׁשִימָתֹו‬,‫ רּוחֹו ּונְׁשִימָתֹו קְ צ ָָרה‬,‫ׁשהּוא ֵמצֵר‬

ֶ ‫ ּכָל מִי‬.‫מקצר רוח‬
Anyone who is in anguish, his breath is short, and he is not able to elongate his breath.

For Rashi then, “ruach” refers not to spirit but breath—claiming that their inability to
listen or maintain hopefulness was due to their lack of ability to breathe deeply. Thus, Rashi
identifies the way in which physical circumstances can influence one’s emotional state (and vice
versa). And this inability to breathe is connected with the fact that the hope the Israelites felt in
the last parsha has since been crushed—returning them to an even more difficult reality after
they began to see light at the end of the tunnel.
Many of us, I’m sure, have felt this narrowing of our ability to breathe freely recently.
Whether it stems from renewed anxiety over basic trips to the grocery store or a restaurant, or
because we feel yet again constricted within our homes and apartments, our ability to breathe in
life with joy and hopefulness has yet again been constrained. And we’re tired of it. As we stand
now, we have difficulty seeing an end to this cycle of fear, followed by hope, followed by fear
again.
But God, and God’s messengers, represent the firmness of the promise of redemption.
Moshe tried to deliver that promise to the Israelites and they simply couldn’t breathe it in. This is
altogether understandable and justified—like their feelings, we have a right to feel hopeless at
times. But we also have a chance to take a moment in the stress of everything and breathe
deeply. Our breath puts us back in touch with our immediate reality, the miracle of our being
alive, and helps us to understand that “this too shall pass.” We don’t have all the answers and
can’t look into the future, but we can trust in the truth that this moment of anguish will surely
end. That for us is the trust that God represents.
So in the midst of this trying time, where we are at our wits end and ready to be done
with crisis, I encourage us all to ground ourselves, breathe deeply, and remind ourselves that
redemption is real. As we all do what we need to protect ourselves and others, we can take solace
in our breath, allowing us to look forward to the moment where this will all be a memory—a
reminder that “this too shall pass” through our persistence and patience.
Shabbat Shalom and a happy and safe 2022.