When the Israelites are down, God says to Moses, “Say, therefore, to the Israelite people: I am יהוה. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. And I will take you to be My people, and I will be your God. And you shall know that I, יהוה, am your God who freed you from the labors of the Egyptians” (Exodus 6:6-7; emphasis added).
The ancient rabbis noted the four seemingly synonymous phrases related to divine redemption of the people (“free you,” “deliver you,” “redeem you,” and “take you”) and suggested that these four phrases are the source of the four cups of wine we drink at the Passover Seder celebrating our freedom.
A possible interpretations of this is the Israelites—and therefore all of us—experienced four different dimensions of freedom as part of the Exodus.
What would that mean for all of us? This is the question we explored in our Torah discussion with different participants suggesting different brilliant conceptions of the different ways we need to make sure we — and everyone — are free.
One possible schema:
(1) Physical freedom—we still know a world where not everyone is physically free, whether because of an inability to flee a war-torn nation, or because of incarceration for something they did not do or for a punishment that exceeds the crime.
(2) Mental freedom—does everyone feel free to explore all of the beautiful thoughts and ideas that the human mind can conceive? Do they live in an environment where their unique contributions will be valued? Where constructive dissent and individuality is valued? Do they experience a green light to explore the ideas they have never explored?
(3) Emotional or freedom—Are people free to feel what their heart pulls them to feel? Can they love who they love? Do they feel the freedom to experience grief or sadness when the moment calls for it? Do they let themselves feel untrammeled joy? Feeling the freedom to feel what we feel is part of what makes us human.
(4) Spiritual freedom—Are we allowing our spirit to run free? Do we give space for it to bask in the light of the Divine, as our tradition calls for? (“v’nizkey khulanu me’heira l’oro,” we say as part of the morning/shacharit prayer service: may we all be worthy of basking in the light of the Divine.) Do we give ourselves permission to let our spirit unfurl and yearn and stretch in all the ways it needs to? Do we give permission to those around us to do the same? (“V’nontnim reshut zeh la’zeh,” we say a few verses earlier: The Holy Ones grant permission to one another to sanctify the One who formed them.)
These and more were among the freedoms discussed in our conversation, recognizing that not everyone does experience these freedoms. The later admonition to you shall “love the oppressed as yourself, for you were oppressed in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:34) stems from this notion of knowing the experience of not being free and therefore, doing what we can to perpetuate freedom for ourselves and those around us
