Parashat Shemot begins by listing the names of Yaakov Avinu’s sons who had come to live in Egypt.
At first glance, this list is entirely unnecessary. We just read several parashiyot about the story of Yaakov’s family, and we are well aware of who his sons were. Why is this information repeated?
Rashi explains:
אע"פ שמנאן בחייהם בשמותם חזר ומנאם אחר מיתתן, להודיע חבתם, שנמשלו לכוכבים שמוציאם ומכניסם במספר בשמותם.
When Hashem brings out the stars each night, and when He brings them away from the sky in the morning, He counts them, calling each one by name. Similarly, He repeatedly lists the names of the Jewish People by name, showing how much He loves them – that they are as great as the stars.
What does this mean? In what way are we compared to the stars? And how does this show Hashem’s love for us?
There are an enormous number of stars, but each one is significant and plays a vital role in the galaxy. And, although a star seems tiny, it is actually gigantic, and critically important.
The Torah wants us to know that we are each a star. Every single one of us plays a vital role, and each one of us can shine brightly, even if other people see us – and we might sometimes see ourselves – as small and insignificant. No one is insignificant. We are all precious and beloved to Hashem, we all have an important place in the world, and we all have the ability to shine brightly.
Later in the parashah, we read that Pharaoh rejected Moshe’s demand that he release Beneh Yisrael. He shouted, הן רבים עתה עם הארץ, והשבתם אותם מסבלותם – that there were many slaves with work to do, and Moshe was disrupting their labor by giving them false hopes of freedom (5:5).
The Ben Ish Hai notes that Pharaoh referred to Beneh Yisrael here as עם הארץ – “people of the land.” This expression, the Ben Ish Hai explains, means that Pharaoh saw Beneh Yisrael as capable of nothing more than being עם הארץ, people who worked the land. In his eyes, this is who they were, and this is all they could ever be. He insisted that there was no point for them to aspire to anything more – because this is who they were, slaves who worked.
Moshe’s message was – and still is, to this very day – that we are not destined to remain עם הארץ. We are capable of much more, and we are destined to much more. We are like stars. People might see us as small, but we are large, important, talented, and capable of shining brightly like the sun.
I once had the opportunity to visit the Blind Museum in Holon, Israel. A visit to this museum is a remarkable experience, being led by blind tour guides through a complex in the pitch black, getting a sense of what life is like as a blind person. After the tour, my daughter, who was with me, asked me if it is harder to be blind from birth, or to have become blind during one’s life. I decided to pose this question to our guide.
“I don’t know,” the guide said, “because I was born blind. But I do know that I would never want to be able to see.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “You would not want to have the ability to see?!” I asked in astonishment.
“No,” the guide confirmed. “I have been blind all my life. This is all I know. I would be scared to see.”
I came away from this brief conversation with a crucial insight into human nature.
People tend to fall into their comfort zones, accepting their condition, and are afraid to change. Their lives can be so much better. They can shine so much brighter. They can enjoy life so much more, and accomplish so much more. But they’re scared to leave the place where they are. They’re afraid of change, and so they stay stuck in place.
Let’s all have the courage to shine as brightly as we can, to realize our full potential, and to stop being afraid. We can be better. We can be a star. So let’s do it.