By Rabbi Cary Kozberg
“Did you ever get the feeling that you wanted to go,
But still had the feeling that you wanted to stay,
You knew it was right, wasn’t wrong.
Still you knew you wouldn’t be very long.
Go or stay, stay or go,
Start to go again and change your mind again.
It’s hard to have the feeling that you wanted to go,
But still have the feeling that you wanted to stay.
Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, si, do.
I’ll go.
I’ll stay.”
Written and sung by the immortal Jimmy Durante, this song was one of his most iconic. He performed it in the 1942 classic “The Man Who Came to Dinner”as well as in two other movies from 1931 to 1944. It was part of his night club act and it appeared on several of his albums. In a poignant moment in the film “Scent of a Woman,” Al Pacino’s character sings a couple of bars as he contemplates suicide.
With Passover around the corner and Jews once again busily preparing for our annual holiday observances, this song recently (and for some reason, spontaneously) came to mind. On Seder night (first and second), we will once again rehearse and recount the story of G-d liberating us from Egyptian slavery and taking us out of Egypt. To be sure, remembering the Exodus from Egypt is not only the central theme of Passover, but also a central theme of Shabbat and every biblical holiday, as well as a focus of the Sh’ma recited twice a day. It is our formative narrative — which is why every Jew is encouraged at the Seder to regard him/herself as personally having been liberated.
This imperative certainly feeds the assumption that all of the Jews — everybody — were part of the Exodus and left. The Torah reports that not only did they leave having despoiled the Egyptians but they also left Egypt chamushim — “armed” — perhaps anticipating the resistance they would encounter (e.g. Amalek) on their way to the Promised Land.
The Hebrew word for “armed” is “chamushim.” Those with a rudimentary knowledge of Hebrew may make a connection between this word chamushimand the word chamesh, meaning the number five. To our Sages the connection was clear. For them the connection implied that only a fifth of the entire Israelite people — just 20% of the entire community — actually joined in the Exodus. In other words, 80% of them, a decisive majority, chose TO STAY AND NOT LEAVE. Only a fraction “chose to be chosen,” as it were, and accept G-d’s call to create a new life dedicated to liberty and sanctity. The rest chose to remain in Egypt, with all that that decision meant.
Remembering this intriguing factoid, I thought of the above-quoted song. Which started me wondering what it must have been like within each Israelite house as the time to leave approached: What were the conversations within each family as they considered the life-changing choice before them? What were the concerns of each individual Israelite? We might imagine many if not all of them resonating strongly with the song’s sentiments:
Did you ever get the feeling that you wanted to go,
But still had the feeling that you wanted to stay,
You knew it was right, wasn’t wrong.
Still you knew you wouldn’t be very long.
Go or stay, stay or go…
As terrible as the Haggadah tells us Egypt was, apparently it wasn’t terrible enough for most of our ancestors to believe G-d’s message and take the risk to leave. Living as slaves certainly was difficult, but obviously there were benefits that most of them didn’t want to give up: little personal responsibility, decent food, etc. As we know, even the 20% that did leave eventually fell victim to “selective memory” when their newly acquired freedom presented challenges for which they were not prepared. Losing faith in G-d and Moses and remembering only the food they had in Egypt (much more appetizing than a guaranteed daily ration of monotonous “manna”), they clamored to return — not once but many times.
Given current events and the challenges that all Jews are facing today — much exacerbated by the events of Oct. 7, 2023 — similar existential choices face us. Every self-identifying Jew is faced with the existential question “Do I stay, or do I go?” For those Jews living in places where violent attacks have significantly ramped up, the question clearly is whether or not to leave their respective countries and make aliyahto Israel. For others, the question is somewhat “flipped”: “Do I stay with my people and continue to proudly live and identify as a Jew or do I go, abandoning them and our heritage in order to remain safe?”
This year, as we sit at our Sedertables and once again listen to the words summoning each of us to personally identify with our ancestors who left, Mr. Durante’s lyrics call forth a response from each of us:
Did you ever get the feeling that you wanted to go,
But still had the feeling that you wanted to stay,
You knew it was right, wasn’t wrong.
Still you knew you wouldn’t be very long.
Go or stay, stay or go…
As current events continue to unfold, how will we respond: go or stay, stay or go? Notably, at the Seder, even the wicked son shows up and participates. What about those Jews who don’t? In our time, will the faithful remain a minority, and possibly continue to shrink? Or will we be willing to take the risk the 20% of our ancestors took?
Go or stay, stay or go…
Rabbi Cary Kozberg is rabbi of Temple Sholom in Springfield, Ohio. A native Texan, he has served as a congregational rabbi, Hillel director (The University of Texas at Austin) and health care chaplain.
