We Will Outlive Every Pharaoh

D’rash given Friday, January 16, 2026

This week we read Parashat Va’eira, and we meet Moses at the moment when everything feels heavy. Egypt is not yet behind him, redemption is not yet in sight, and the people are exhausted. Moses is exhausted. And Torah does not hide that reality.

He stands before God and says, essentially: I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t have the words. I don’t have the strength.

And God’s answer is not instant rescue. God’s answer is forward motion.

“I will free you... I will redeem you... I will take you to be My people.” The message is: this story is not finished — and you are not alone.

Beth Israel, we are standing in that same kind of moment.

A few days ago, someone tried to wound us. Someone tried to destroy what we love. Someone tried to tell us that we do not belong in our own city — that being visibly Jewish is dangerous, that being proudly Jewish is a risk, that being a synagogue is an invitation for hatred.

What they failed to understand is that we are not made of wood and paper and shelves. We are made of Torah, memory, community, stubborn love, and three thousand years of defiance.

Our sanctuary can smell like smoke. Our library can burn. Our offices can be damaged. That is not the end of Beth Israel. That is not even close.

When the Israelites left Egypt, they did not walk out with buildings and infrastructure. They walked out with identity, covenant, and each other. And that is what carried them forward.

So let’s name this moment honestly:

We are shaken, but we are not scared. We are wounded, but we are not weak. We are grieving, but we are not giving up. Not now. Not ever.

Beth Israel has been here for more than 160 years. We have prayed through wars, depressions, pandemics, demographic shifts, and antisemitism in every decade. And every single time, we did more than survive — we adapted, we rebuilt, we showed up. And that is exactly what we are going to do now.

But I want to push us one step further, because surviving is not enough.

We will not only survive, we will thrive.
We will not only rebuild, we will expand.
We will not only endure, we will lead.

This is not the time to withdraw or hide. This is not the time to shrink our footprint or lower our voice. This is the time to join together. This is the time to show up for Shabbat. This is the time to enroll our children in Jewish learning. This is the time to volunteer, to sing, to daven, to study, to argue, to laugh, and to build.

This is the time to say out loud: “I am Jewish. I am proud. This is my community. And I belong here.”

There will always be people who try to intimidate Jews. That is as old as Pharaoh. But Jewish history is not a history of victims. It is a history of builders. Of resistors. Of people who take ashes and create institutions, who take trauma and create prayer, who take fear and create children named Chaim — life.

And so I want to say something clearly, for the record:

Beth Israel is still here.
Jewish life in Jackson is still here.
And we are not going anywhere.

Because the opposite of fear is not bravery — it is presence.

Every time we gather, every time we pray, every time we teach a child to read Alef-Bet, every time we put on a tallis, every time we celebrate a Bat Mitzvah or mourn with a family — we are saying: we belong, we matter, we will outlive every Pharaoh history produces.

So Beth Israel, this is our moment. Our ancestors did not survive plagues, exile, crusades, pogroms, and every form of hatred so that we could stand quietly on the sidelines of our own story.

They survived so that we could build synagogues. So that we could teach Torah. So that we could raise Jewish children. So that we could live full, joyful, stubbornly hopeful Jewish lives.

Now is that time.

As Va’era reminds us — the road to redemption does not begin with certainty. It begins with commitment. With identity. With each other.

So to this congregation I say:

Stand tall.
Be proud.
Be present.
Link arms.
Join committees.
Come to minyan.
Sing loudly.
Learn Torah.
Help rebuild.
And refuse to let anyone else define our future.

Because our story is not finished. And we are not alone. And this community will not only survive — it will thrive.

Shabbat shalom.
Am Yisrael Chai.

Ben