As we prepare to celebrate Passover, I contemplate my ancestors’ flight out of Egypt. If the Exodus happened today, I am not sure if I would ever make it out of Egypt. 

According to the midrash, the Pharoh commanded the Israelites to leave immediately following the tenth plague. As we all know, they had so little time that the bread had no time to rise. As a woman who loves to bake challah, I could live with whipping up the dough and foregoing the rising process.  As long as I had butter and raspberry preserves matzoh would work until the manna rained down. (Hopefully, mine would taste like vanilla ice cream.)

My first problem is that there is no way in the world I would have had time to pack. 

Friends I know who pack the night before any trip would have done well that evening. Those carefree individuals would pull out their sachets, throw everything in, and figure they could pick up whatever else they needed at the closest desert oasis.

Unfortunately, I am not one of those people. I start filling my suitcase at least a week before scheduled departure, often packing and repacking several times. Too many shoes. Too few tops. Do I need a dress in the desert? And what about my denim jacket? I love pairing it with almost everything in my closet, but maybe a fleece would be more practical and take up less room. How in the world could I pull this off before we headed out?

Full disclosure: I don’t even leave my house for a few hours without packing enough for an overnight stay. Along with my essentials—wallet, iPhone, sunglasses, lipstick—I need to cover all my bases. A book. My notebook and a pen in case I get hit with a writing inspiration. A phone charger. A sweater or fleece in case I get cold. Shorts in case I get hot. My water bottle. A Quest bar in case I get hungry. I stuff more into my oversized handbag for a simple errand than the Israelites grabbed in the middle of the night.

Even if I’d managed to pack my bags and prepare the challah that turned into crackers, I would have had to dash back home for the items I’d forgotten. My phone. My keys. My sunglasses. No matter my preparation, I always leave something behind when departing. The Red Sea would already close by the time I made it to the shore. I would wave to everyone while watching all of Pharoh’s soldiers being drowned.

And could I ever have left my home in the first place? 

According to scholars’ interpretation of Rashi’s comment, only one-fifth of the Israelites left Egypt. Eighty percent stayed put, out of fear of the unknown or feeling comfortable despite their inferior status in the kingdom. Eighty percent! But thinking about it, would I have been in the majority? Would I have given up freedom to stay put? Could I have left my familiar life and my stuff behind? 

As Dan Schur writes in an April 22, 2022, article for the Jewish Journal, “the overwhelming majority of the children of Israel chose a compromised but familiar existence over the potential dangers that more dramatic and assertive actions might have brought.”

Could I leave my piano? My lanai that overlooks a pond? A house that brings me so much joy? 

So, maybe I wouldn’t have left in the first place. I would have packed Larry some matzoh and lots of water, given him a kiss, and would have waved goodbye. Who knows? Maybe those 40 years of wandering would have somehow led him back to me.

Should I stay or should I go? Too many packing decisions!

Should I stay or should I go? Too many packing decisions!

Should I stay or should I go? Too many packing decisions!