Blood on the doorpost: Exodus 12 and October 7

“He will see the blood on the lintel and on the two doorposts, and God will pass over the entrance, and He will not permit the destroyer to enter your houses to smite [you].” [Shemot 12:13]

Like so much else I read and hear these days, this verse from yesterday’s Torah reading instantly caused my mind to cross-reference to one of the countless survivor testimonies from the October 7 massacre. The account in question involved several residents of a Kibbutz, who had managed to fight off invading terrorists, fleeing to hide in a damaged building where they smeared ketchup around the door and frame. This, they hoped, would convince the “destroyers” that the building had already been attacked and thereby prevent them from entering.

The symbolism and imagery of blood is striking in the Exodus commemoration. From powerfully quoting Yeshaya’s statement that: “I passed by you and saw you downtrodden with your blood, and I said to you, 'With your blood, live,' and I said to you, 'With your blood, live.'” to the recognition that the very name Pesach is drawn from God’s “skipping over” houses that had been marked out with blood. This act of faith of defying Egyptian terror by marking out our houses with blood plays a central role in the birth of our nation, and is preserved to this day through the command of placing a mezuzah on our doorpost. This too has become particularly poignant at this time, with Jews in parts of the Diaspora debating whether such an outward expression of their Judaism remains safe.

Even after the Exodus, the presence and symbolism of blood in commemorating our emergence as a nation has brought immeasurable pain, with our communities suffering centuries of blood libels and Easter massacres. One visitor to our Seder, whose family originated from Bulgaria told us that his community had stopped the practice of drawing ten drops of red wine to correspond to the ten plagues after an “unfortunate incident” with their non-Jewish neighbours.

Yet the message of the blood and the mezuza also signifies what Judaism has always deemed to be the most proper response to such forms of persecution. Focusing internally and taking pride in our identity and the uniqueness of our nation. In our moral strength and commitment – upon leaving Egypt – to being the island of ethical monotheism among the raging seas of pagan immorality. In our covenant with God which has seen us bear His word to the world and, despite being hated and persecuted for it, outlive both physically and spiritually all of the empires which sought to eradicate us.

Rabbi S. R. Hirsch teaches that this ideological reinforcement lies at the very heart of observance of the commandment of mezuza. Each time we leave our house to engage with the outside world, we pass the mezuza and remind ourselves of the moral and spiritual values which must accompany us and form the basis for all of our interactions. Even more importantly, when re-entering our domestic fortress from the outside world, we must notice the mezuza and once again clarify and strengthen the values through which we want our family life to be built. It is this ideological reinforcement, teaches the Rambam, which explains the protective qualities which our tradition attaches to this commandment.

These symbols have, for me at least, taken on heightened significance in recent days, as they prompt us to remember our national values and to take pride in our national legacy and destiny. While other countries may for now choose to hate and misunderstand us, be jealous and suspicious of us, our prophets have promised that the day will come when they will appreciate and seek to learn from us. Ultimately, our covenant with God means that we and the light that we bring to all nations will ultimately always survive and prevail and spread to the darkest corners of the world.

First posted on Facebook 21 January 2024, here.