The Bones We Carry
On the seventh day of Pesah, we recount some of the most dramatic and transformative events in our people’s history: the splitting of the Red Sea, Miriam’s joyous song and dance, and the Israelites’ movement from slavery to freedom. Yet, amidst this grand narrative, one particular verse caught my attention:
And Moses took with him the bones of Joseph, who had exacted an oath from the children of Israel, saying, ‘God will be sure to take notice of you: then you shall carry up my bones from here with you.’ (Exod. 13:19)
Consider the scene: after hundreds years of slavery, the Israelites, at long last, are preparing to depart. They are frantically gathering their belongings—gold, silver, all their earthly possessions—and scrambling to prepare food for their journey. In this urgent rush, Moses, rather than attending to the needs of the people and their immediate concerns, embarks on a singular mission: to retrieve the bones of Joseph, fulfilling a centuries-old promise. It begs the question: Why, in the midst of these epic events, does the Torah highlight this seemingly minor detail? What is the significance of Moses’s dedication to this task, his resolute commitment to honoring a promise made generations ago?
Moses’s decision here is profound. In a defining moment he demonstrates that even in death, and especially in life, we never—ever—leave anyone behind. Moses, it seems, understood a fundamental and universal truth: our actions matter. Our behaviors express our deepest commitments, and his action embodies our most central and essential conviction: the sanctity of human life. It’s not happenstance that the Israelites’ journey from slavery to freedom begins here, with Moses modeling this foundational tenet.
It’s also not coincidental that, as referenced earlier, the story of Joseph’s remains doesn’t end here. Although the details remain elusive in the biblical text, it is clear in Sefer Yehoshua (the book of Joshua) that Joseph’s remains are carried throughout the desert and, eventually, reach the Promised Land:
The bones of Joseph, which the Israelites had brought up from Egypt, were buried at Shechem, in the piece of ground which Jacob had bought for a hundred kesitahs from the children of Hamor, Shechem’s father, and which had become a heritage of the Josephites. (Josh. 24:32)
The Talmud continues to fill in the story:
And all those years that the Jewish people were in the wilderness, these two arks, one a casket of a dead man, Joseph, and one the Ark of the Divine Presence, i.e., the Ark of the Covenant, were traveling together . . . (BT Sotah 13a)
To understand this powerful pairing, we must first confront the origin of these bones, the place from which they were carried. Our experiences in Egypt are central to our collective story. We know the depths of slavery, both physical and spiritual. We, like Joseph, understand what it means to be cast into a pit, yearning for light and dreaming of return. This pain teaches us the fundamental lessons of our people: to care for the vulnerable and to champion justice. Our past, even its most painful chapters, travels with us.
But as we learned, the ark holding Joseph’s remains didn’t travel alone; it found its companion in the Ark of the Covenant. With the Ten Commandments encased inside, we have been blessed with God’s revelation and Divine wisdom; we have been bequeathed the tools for building a holy, just community and the belief in its possibility. Together, these two arks remind us that we can hold both immense pain and unwavering hope.
In these difficult days, I’m finding new strength in these lessons:
Even in moments of great struggle and unprecedented change, we must never abandon our fundamental obligations. And in recent months, we have borne witness to this principle. It has been nearly 600 days since October 7, 2023, yet day in and day out, week after week, throughout Israel, the streets are filled demanding the release of the hostages in Gaza. (Indeed, these calls are echoed in communities throughout the world.)
The people’s persistence embodies the legacy of Moses’s leadership: a refusal to abandon those who have been taken; an enduring commitment to human dignity; and a staunch resolve to act with conviction and integrity, however dark the current moment. This resilience and relentlessness are also what it means to carry both arks: to hold our pain and our promise, our memory and our vision.
On the seventh day of Pesah, we commemorate not just the miracle of the Sea splitting, but also the courage required to step into uncertain waters. The Israelites moved forward with the history of their bondage and the hope for freedom. Today, may we have the courage to do the same—to move forward while carrying the full weight of our past with the belief that a different and better reality is not only possible but within our grasp.
The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (z”l) and Harold Hassenfeld (z”l).
