Exodus Eagles, Sinai, and Carrying God

Parashat Yitro (Exodus 18:1-20:23)
Just before the revelation at Sinai, God gives Moses a message for the Israelites:

אַתֶּם רְאִיתֶם אֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי לְמִצְרָיִם וָאֶשָּׂא אֶתְכֶם עַל־כַּנְפֵי נְשָׁרִים וָאָבִא אֶתְכֶם אֵלָי׃ וְעַתָּה אִם־שָׁמוֹעַ תִּשְׁמְעוּ בְּקֹלִי וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם אֶת־בְּרִיתִי וִהְיִיתֶם לִי סְגֻלָּה מִכֹּל־הָעַמִּים כִּי־לִי כֹּל־הָאָרֶץ׃ וְאַתֶּם תִּהְיוּ־לִי מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים וְגוֹי קָדוֹשׁ אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר תְּדַבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל׃

‘You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now then, if you will obey Me faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples. Indeed, all the earth is Mine, but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words that you shall speak to the children of Israel. (Exodus 19:4-6)

Can we try to imagine what it would feel like to be carried on an eagle’s wings, as eagles do for their young? To be swept into flight exhilaratingly, only just balanced, unable to even see the landscape rush by? Perhaps that is what it felt like for the Israelites leaving Egypt, swept up in God’s grand story and only barely holding on. The Israelites have very little control here. They can only trust in God, like a chick looks to its parent, and hope.
The Kli Yakar, a 16th century commentator, suggests that this parent-child (or eagle-chick) relationship with God is only the first of three stages:

ואשא אתכם על כנפי נשרים ואביא אתכם אלי. הזכיר כאן ג’ מדריגות זו למעלה מזו מתחילה אמר ואשא אתכם על כנפי נשרים וזהו כאשר ישא האומן את היונק ואז הקב”ה במדריגת האב וישראל במדריגת הבן
ואח”כ אמר ואביא אתכם אלי משמע שתהיו שוים לי ונהיה כב’ אחים שוים במדריגתם
ואח”כ אמר ואתם תהיו לי ממלכת כביכול מלכים לי כמ”ש (שמואל ב’ כג ג) צדיק מושל יראת ה

“And I bore you on eagles’ wings and I brought you to Me.” Three stages are mentioned here, each greater than the last. God says “and I bore you on eagles’ wings”: this is like a nurse carrying a baby, and thus the Holy Blessed One is on the level of the father and Israel in the stage of the child.
Then, God says “and I brought you to me”: meaning that you will be equal to me, and we will be like two siblings equal in status.
And then, it says “and you will be to me a kingdom”: kings, as it were, to me, as it is written “the righteous one rules, the fear of God” (II Samuel 23:3).

After being like a parent and child, the Kli Yakar suggests, the Jewish people will develop, becoming more akin to a sibling to God. It’s a compelling image, especially given the marriage metaphor so often applied to the receiving of the Torah on Sinai. If we are entering a marriage, it is not as a silent, blushing bride—rather, says the Kli Yakar, we enter as a full partner to God, with an equal role in building the world that we want to create.

But the Kli Yakar goes further. The final stage is for the Jews to rule God: like a king, or, as he says later, like God’s mother (as it were). We might not dare to even imagine such things, if the rabbis of the Talmud hadn’t said it already: that God “called Jacob ‘God’” (Megillah 18a), or that “the righteous person rules God” (Moed Katan 16b). What are we to make of such a radical idea?

Anyone who has been in charge of an organization, or who has complained to the head of an organization, is probably familiar with this refrain: “People think I have the power here! If only they knew how much I have to please everyone, they would stop expecting me to change things.” The Kli Yakar’s role reversal is reminiscent of this: when does a mother have power over her child, and when is she forced to look on as her child makes different decisions from what she might want? When God is “ruled” by the righteous person, who really has the power?

The Kli Yakar’s comment comes at the moment of law-giving, just before Israel receives the many rules of the Torah. Do not kill. Do not mistreat the stranger. And, our metaphor suggests, God, too, is now subject to laws. If we act justly, God is constrained by our actions. What happens in the universe is not, actually, an act of God—it is dependent on us.

What does it look like to step into the third and final role, to imagine being a parent to God? It would be far more comforting to return to being carried, to be fully in God’s power, to watch and wait. It would even be more comforting to try and be a sibling to God, an equal partner in creation. But to do either would be to renege on the agreement of Sinai. At Sinai, we took responsibility for our actions, and the ways in which our actions shape the world. Maybe even more than we depend on God, God depends on us. Rulers, and mothers, do not always have as much power as they might like. But the Kli Yakar’s metaphor invites us to reconsider what power we do have. We are not perched on an eagle’s wing anymore. After Sinai, how can we step into our new roles, maybe even more in charge of history than God? Looking at the world as a parent, what possibilities can we allow to grow?

Rabbi Jessica Spencer `24 is currently studying for a PhD in religion at Columbia University. She has taught Talmud and other rabbinic texts in various settings including Limmud UK, the Jewish Theological Seminary, and Azara, the cross-denominational yeshiva she co-founded in the UK.

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