Like a doting father in denial over his child's spiritual decline and loss of ambition, Hashem whitewashes our total disregard of the news of His seemingly renewed compassion for us and the impending redemption, tidings that should have brought spontaneous joy and partying. After all, He says, (6:9) "ולא שמעו אל משה מקוצר רוח ומעבודה קשה". Loosely translated, "my children's indifference to Moshe's message is born of their exhaustion; they simply can't catch their breath and they endure terribly oppressive labor."
Understandably there was much to excuse and explain. Hadn't they received the news of a lifetime? The redemption and all that for which they pined were at hand. Imagine how we think we will feel when we receive a prophecy that will articulate with clarity and certainty that the State of Israel will begin to morph speedily and seamlessly into the Davidic dynasty and that all of Yehshayahu's prophecies were at hand. Nevertheless, the enslaved Jews seemed to be unaffected and worked on in unimpressed and untampered disbelief.
And yet, is it not difficult to accept that the Jews were simply too exhausted to listen? Would we not adopt Moshe's interpretation (6:12,30) that his inability to articulate and present in a charming and captivating fashion undermined his message? Would we not, based on the passage at the end of Parshas Shemos (5:21), suggest that the people felt gullible and deceived because their trust in Moshe had led to a life threatening increase in their burdens?
Clearly Hashem taught us how to view our people. True, on the surface our people were frustrated and probably angry that Moshe's mission had thus far caused them nothing other than enormous distress. It also seemed that a leader with a speech impediment was not going to carry the day at that time. However, Hashem wants us to see through all of that. If a Jew does not hear the voice of prophecy, the words of his compassionate Father, the sounds of connection to the legacy of our past, it could only be because the Jew is exhausted and terribly distracted.
This is, in truth, an example of what we witness time and again. How often do we see late-in-life learners who are drawn to the study of Torah, mesmerized by the detailed study coming from a different culture and language and fascinated by the rigor of a very distant way of thinking? It all makes little sense unless we believe in the natural connection that every Jew harbors to our legacy, to a kind of imprint that exists well within us.
This truth is instructive as it is encouraging. It begs us to appreciate that so much of the disconnect that we painfully watch, sometimes as peers and sometimes as parents, must stem from distraction and emotional exhaustion. If only we could learn how to peel away the layers of "interference" or "cultural noise" that crowd the souls of our children and sometimes choke them into spiritual numbness.
As I write this, a presently uncommon phrase from my youth, "being in touch with one self" comes to mind. It was then the key to peacefulness and meaningful productivity. It has now come to refer to self-acceptance, embracing flaws and building self esteem. The parsha teaches us that for us, that phrase connotes that which is deeply imprinted within us. Hashem asks us to recognize it and allow it to claim its place and presence.