Earlier this week, the world commemorated International Holocaust Remembrance Day, a day established by the United Nations to ensure that the memory of the Holocaust and its victims is preserved for and conveyed to future generations, and to help prevent future acts of genocide.
Over the years, the value of Holocaust memorials and museums and of the philanthropic investment in them has become clearer to me. The event that impacted me most was a particular visit to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in D.C. when I spent much of the time walking through the exhibit with a non-Jewish visitor, someone who had not grown up with a deep awareness of the Holocaust, as I had. I watched as her horror grew into audible sobs as she saw what human beings did to other human beings. I do not know how many Jews this visitor knew, and I do not think she was moved out of a particular concern or admiration for the Jews. It was the simple horror of seeing the evil that human beings are capable of perpetrating. How did humanity descend to those depths, to destroy and torture other human beings? Her own sense of humanity and morality were genuinely and deeply upset by seeing not only the destruction of the Holocaust’s victims, but by the moral self-destruction of the rest of humanity, both the perpetrators and the onlookers.
Holocaust memorials and commemorations that encourage that kind of reflection and ethical correctness have some value and can play a role in motivating others to prevent future horrors. And while there is little we can confidently expect from sympathetic allies after seeing the world’s horrifying reaction to the horrors of October 7, whatever support we have seen has come from those who have responded with disgust to both the events of that day and to the surge in hate and antisemitism that followed.
However, Klal Yisrael must aspire for much more than protection afforded by the humanitarian impulses of others. Core to our mission is for us to be a “goy gadol,” a nation that is truly great, admired for our relationship with God as seen both in our wisdom and in our divinely guided destiny (see Bereishit 12:2 and Devarim 4:7-8).
The Talmud (TB Avodah Zara 65a) tells a story of the sage Rava who deeply impressed a Roman dignitary known as Bar Sheishach. As they were taking leave of each other, Bar Sheishach declared, “The eye that yearns to see the misfortune of your people should burst,” to which Rava responded “Amen.” Ultimately, the Talmud notes, Bar Sheishach’s own eye burst! Clearly Bar Sheishach’s gut was not free of antisemitism. Nevertheless, his admiration for Rava led him to recognize that the success and well-being of the Jews was a very good thing.
This idea is brought out significantly in our own parsha. When the Egyptians are finally about to relent and allow the Jews to leave, the Torah (Shemos 11:3) notes: “Hashem granted the people favor in the eyes of the Egyptians. Moshe too was held in high regard in the land of Egypt among both Pharaoh’s officials and the people.” Ramban comments that rather than feeling resentment towards the Jews for all the plagues they had suffered, the Egyptians instead recognized how evil they themselves had been and developed a growing love and appreciation for the Jews and their worthiness in the eyes of God. This feeling was directed even more towards Moshe, despite his leading role in bringing the plagues upon them.
That is redemption. For the Jewish people, it is insufficient for the nations to collapse or cower before our miraculous or military powers, for them to treat us well for their self-interest, or for them to have mercy out of a humanitarian impulse. To truly meet redemption, we must be worthy of the world’s sincere admiration.
There is no museum or day that will create that. This is our job as a people each and every day.
Rabbi Moshe Hauer is executive vice president of the Orthodox Union (OU), the nation’s largest Orthodox Jewish umbrella organization
