We Lived Through Pharaoh, We Will Live Through This Too

One year ago, I wrote about my cousin Dov in this Toward Shabbat column. Marking the first Yom HaShoah, Yom HaZikaron, and Yom Ha’Atzma-ut since October 7, I turned to him—a Holocaust survivor who rebuilt his life in Israel after the Shoah—for wisdom, perspective, and inspiration. All of which he offered in abundance.

This year, as we continue to carry the pain of loss and war, I find myself turning back to Dov’s words. There is a new sadness in my heart as I do so; my dear cousin left this earth at age 99, just a few months ago, on Tu BiShvat. It feels even more important to revisit our conversation now that he is no longer alive and remind myself of its core message: that despite all the tragedy and sorrow that has characterized Jewish history, we have always been able to find something to live for, something to celebrate, and a strength that has allowed us to endure.

Dov’s message resonates with an idea I encountered in my own pre-Pesah learning, with my friend and colleague Rabbi Jordan Bendat-Appell. The idea, known as the oscillating narrative, is a type of family storytelling identified by psychologists Marshall Duke and Robyn Fivush. Their research found that children who grow up hearing stories of their families’ ups and downs—challenges and growth, adversity and accomplishments, grief and joys—demonstrate greater resilience than those who grow up with an ascending narrative (the story of a straight path from bad to good, rags to riches) or a descending narrative (the story of a straight path from success to failure or trauma). The oscillating narrative highlights for children the ability to persevere through challenges, and to experience renewal alongside loss.

We examined several passages of the Haggadah through the lens of this potent framework, and Jordan argued (quite convincingly!) that this text is perhaps the oldest and preeminent example of an oscillating family narrative. It is the narrative of the Jewish family, where we declare, several times and in a variety of ways, that in every generation we have and will face an existential threat—and that in every generation we have and will overcome that threat. The seder’s aim is to engage children in asking questions and exploring the collective Jewish story; in doing so, they come to see their lives as part of something larger than themselves—communally, geographically, and temporally—that continues to survive and to thrive.

I imagine that my cousin Dov would have been deeply pleased—and also deeply unsurprised—to find science revealing something that Jewish tradition has been teaching for millennia. His own life was an incredible example of resilience cultivated by experiencing and retelling our people’s story; while he did not know the term “oscillating family narrative,” he often expressed its wisdom by quoting one of his favorite sayings, coined by the late Israeli singer-songwriter Meir Ariel:

עברנו את פרעה נעבור גם את זה

We lived through Pharaoh, we will live through this, too.

Pesah is behind us, and next week we will commemorate Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha’Atzma-ut. The calendar is moving us from Egypt’s constriction toward expansive opportunity and responsibility, in the form of a Jewish state. As we travel this journey, may we continue to tell our story—with resilience, hope, and the faith that we will live through this, too.

Shabbat Shalom,

Shuli