The Jewish world is in the process of leaving the book of Genesis and moving into the next book in the Torah, Exodus.

Exodus is a very different kind of book, and the transition is abrupt. We moved quite suddenly from the world of families, intergenerational drama, and much ado about brothers. Most of whom didn’t seem to get along very well.

Now, we are jumping into a book that is more about peoplehood than families. To stress that point, the first Torah portion in Exodus introduces us to five women, all of whom worked to save one baby boy who would grow up to be Moses, the leader of his people.

Transitions can be difficult. You enter into a space that is betwixt and between, neither here nor there. Think of it as standing in a doorway. You are not inside any longer, but you’re not outside yet.

We are beginning of a new year, but transitions from one calendar year to another tend to go smoothly. It’s when you make a bigger change, take a leap from one reality to another, that there are bumps in the road. Simple, normal things: Start school. Move to a new city. Have a baby.

Even when we look forward to a change, it is stressful. And when the changes are out of your control and undesirable – you get fired, or a hurricane rips off your roof, or you get kidnapped to Gaza – it’s much worse.

Trauma survivors carry the scars inside, sometimes buried so deeply that we can pretend they didn’t happen. Sometimes. But PTSD can arise at any moment: a sudden loud noise, a random comment from a stranger, a twitch of unexpected pain.

The relief that we all felt at the release of the final living hostages from Gaza was palpable. I hope that it does not force the survivors to hide their grief and trauma. We shouldn’t expect them to pick up their old lives as if nothing happened. They need to transition from one reality to another, to redefine their way of responding to outside stimuli, to learn to smile, and experience joy again.

Learning how to take the leap from captivity to freedom, from silence to telling your story, is daunting. I am so grateful to the hostage survivors who have reached the point where they can speak about what transpired. Painful as these stories are, they help us process our own pain, and teach us about resilience and courage.

And I am grateful to the example set by those five women at the beginning of the Exodus saga. They teach us that anyone, even seemingly helpless women, can stand up to injustice and prejudice. We can achieve the impossible. We can even forge a nation with our bare hands after enduring a firestorm of hatred and murder.

The last portion of Genesis is called “and he lived.” The history of the Jewish people can be called “and they lived.”