Put Upon—Plenty—But It’s Always Your Loss

The story of Passover isn’t about the leaving of Egypt—it’s what happens after. Because the real test wasn’t the escape—it’s about the conviction to keep moving forward, no matter what, even in the harsh conditions of the desert.

Uncertainty. Fear. No map, no guarantees. Just… hope.

Happy to leave the brutal dictatorship of the Pharaoh of Egypt, they sought a better life and placed their faith in Moses—who clearly had a good rap.

The desert represented freedom—and what they needed to survive in order to get to the Promised Land.

Belief in God was really all they were packing, and they put their faith in a higher power, with Moses as the channel. Then shit happened. And that’s where the people break down and lose faith, not only in Moses, but in God, and themselves due to the weakness of fear.

Even after everything they had seen before leaving Egypt—the miracles, the liberation, the sense of promise—they built the Golden Calf. Pathetic.

Speaking of pathetic, the moment we’re in is no different than what happened back then. So many Jews today have turned away from the conviction of Zion, the land we came from and the promise for a better future.

Now we see Jews failing the same test, suffering similar fears, and feeling the desperation to replace the core truth of where we belong with something far more dangerous—aligning with those who will not save you when push comes to shove.

As long as the wars Israel is engaged in continues, and I see my Israeli friends and family running into shelters daily, as long as antisemitism—dressed up as anti-Zionism—keeps ratcheting up, there is no sense of stability. Just tension, uncertainty, and a constant test of what to believe anymore.

This is what being in the desert must have felt like.

The Egyptians of yore and the radical Islamists of today are the same exact enemy. As the Jews were being chased in the desert, so too is what’s happening now around the globe, with wildlings projecting their own insecurities onto us, compromising the safety of our children, schools, neighborhoods, and places of worship.

[SIDEBAR} “Let’s face it: if Jews were meant to be wiped off the face of the Earth, we would not have survived forty years in the desert after being slaves in Egypt building those pyramids. The constipation from the matzoh alone would have taken us out.” (From my book, Won’t be Silent — Don’t Stop ‘til It Matters.)

These people have been given free rein and have taken to the streets in protest—just to protest—really. There’s no clarity, no real purpose—just noise—paid for by billionaires. Code Pink and the Soros cronies have funneled millions to a slew of ne’er-do-wells and yet—y’all claim we Jews are the problem?

Y’all need to get real lives because what you’re doing looks like Halloween meets activism—masked, costumed, anonymous maroons convinced they’re on the right side of history for hating Jews. It’s mob mentality run amok—a millennia-old problem—which, as history proves, is a losing proposition. We’re here—get used to it.

Truth is—I understand it—been there—done that—needing to be with the masses. Having been a garden-variety assimilated Jew—having suffered and survived the mental shortcoming of what I call emotional and psychological cancer—I see the light and believe in the Promised Land. Just like those who had to find their way back after losing faith in the desert.

Moses led the people because he was compelled to do so—necessity breeds action. He was a being of service—doing God’s work.

Gratefully, I choose to stand with and for my people—to face reality—even when it’s uncomfortable. I have joined the fight to protect us—from those who would sooner destroy us, and from those in the Jewish community who have forgone what and who we are. Survivors—no matter what—finding the courage to get on with it, even when it’s not easy.

Because survival has never come from denial.

It comes from clarity, strength, and purpose. From knowing who you are and refusing to abandon your comrades when it matters most and when you’re needed most.

There will always be those who choose the Golden Calf.

I’m just not one of them—anymore.

If you haven’t read or listened to my book, please do.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)