Bo: Braiding Dignity in the Darkness
Rabbi Menachem
Creditor
There is so much to say about Parshat Bo, so much to learn from its depths. But today, our prayers are focused, please God, on the possibility, the potential, and the reality of liberation. Arbel Yahoud and Agam Berger, held captive for the last 479 days—an unthinkable, inhumane stretch of time—stand on the edge of freedom. It is miraculous, please God, that they are alive.
I learned something over the weekend that stopped me in my tracks. When young Israeli women have been released from their unfathomable captivity, their hair has been braided. At first, I assumed it was the terrorists’ attempt to make them appear cared for. But no, the truth is far more profound: Agam Berger herself, God willing soon to be reunited with her loved ones this Thursday, braided the hair of her fellow captives as they were released.
It seems small, but it is not small at all. Self-determination takes many forms. In an abyss of darkness, Agam braided dignity into her sisters’ hair. That act shines to me as a declaration of humanity, a spark of light defying despair.
Today is also International Holocaust Remembrance Day, marking 80 years since the liberation of Auschwitz. The world pauses to remember when it finally showed up, but as Jews, our own memory functions differently. On our calendar, we mark Yom HaShoah two weeks after Pesach—not to remember being freed by others, but to recall the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, when we fought for ourselves. The difference between being remembered as victims and remembering ourselves as rebels is not trivial. It defines us.
We must hold that difference tightly. As we mark the release of captives, we must remember what it means to braid our own hair, to act even in unimaginable circumstances, to assert our humanity.
In Parshat Bo, God says to Moshe, “Come to Pharaoh. (Ex. 10:1)” It’s a strange phrase. Not "go"—come. God is already there, even in Pharaoh’s palace. God strengthens Pharaoh’s heart so that signs and wonders can unfold. It’s a complicated passage, but it reminds us: Our story is one of Divine wonder emerging from impossible places.
This Thursday, please God, Arbel Yahoud and Agam Berger will come home. After 479 days of captivity, after the worst day in Jewish history since the Holocaust, we refuse any justification for this intense suffering and the inhumanity of Hamas’ October 7 massacre of our family. Terrorism is not justifiable. But we see the wonder of Jewish survival in Agam braiding her sisters’ hair. That’s Divinity. That’s miracle.
Our story is not over. We tell it with dignity. And we have learned to refuse to wait for the world to liberate us. We declare our own beauty, braid our own hair, and keep our flame alive.
So I invite you, friends, to pray with me. Pray that this fragile moment of hostage release and ceasefire holds steady. Pray that every beloved soul comes home. And once they are home, once they are ALL home, may we honor them by bringing fierce Jewish blessings to the world—unfettered, unbroken.
Our braids are beautiful. Our survival is beautiful.
Bless Arbel.
Bless Agam. Bless those whose faces we see and those we will never see again.
And may we, with love and devotion, continue telling our story—not as victims,
but as Am Yisrael, a family who knows how to braid dignity into even the
darkest moments.
