We may have Charlton Heston to thank. Or Cecil B. DeMille.
As we approach Pesach and the telling of the story of Exodus from the land of Egypt, it is
impossible to ignore Heston’s booming, authoritative, sonorous command to Pharaoh: “Let my
people go!”
Moses is the OG prophet. A leader in the truest, purest sense.
An earlier part of the story, maybe not in the movie version but definitely in the book (and you
always have to read the book before you see the movie!) offers up another representation of
Moses entirely.
Here is Moses at the burning bush, hearing God’s call to demand the freedom of the Israelites,
and this Moses could have been played by Woody Allen, much less Heston.
“Why me?” he asks. No, no find someone else. I hate public speaking. I have a stammer. I’m not
the right person for this. Thank you, though.
Of course, we know that God does not take no for an answer.
How we get from the Moses at the burning bush to the Moses who eventually directs the
Israelites out of Egypt is a lesson directly and insightfully relevant to leadership today.
Moses’ gut instincts were good ones. He had a speech impediment, possibly a stammer or
stutter. Why would anyone listen to him? He didn’t see himself as a leader. That self-doubt is
familiar to anyone who has ever stepped up to a leadership position.
“Who, me?”
In today’s parlance we call it imposter syndrome. Someone has served as an officer on the
board, as secretary, second vice president, first vice president, they’ve earned the confidence of
the organization to be its leader, and now that person is president.
And it feels … weird! Like that long slow ride up the first hill of a roller coaster (oh, why am I even
doing this?) or stepping onto the stage alone and into the glare of a spotlight as a program
opens.
No, that inner voice says, you all have made a terrible mistake. You picked the wrong person. I
shouldn’t be president. And the amazingly self-defeating two words that precede a cascade of
negative thinking: “What if …”
It’s as if our inner Woody Allen is battling it out with our inner Charlton Heston. In fact, that’s
exactly what’s happening.
So how does Charlton win?
Well, to be fair, Moses had some tricks up his sleeve, thanks to his brother Aaron and to God.
We will not be able to turn our staffs (do we have staffs??) into snakes or unleash the plagues.
But comparatively, nor will our task be as complex as leading an entire people out of slavery.
Rather, the leadership lesson for modern times is to focus on the message. What is the line that
we remember from the story more than any other? “Let my people go.”
Moses, despite all his protestations about his own abilities, had a clear and compelling
message, a purpose, and I believe that deep down he knew it and believed in it.
We’re not perfect.
As speakers and as leaders, it’s ok to be vulnerable, honest, and open about our flaws. It builds
credibility. The key is to remember to focus on our message, to relate it to the audience (know
before whom you speak) and to say it with conviction.
And then, something magic does happen and we ascend those steps, take that microphone, step
into the spotlight, and speak with the confidence that purpose has given us. That’s when people
see us—and we finally see ourselves—as leaders.
That’s not Hollywood magic, it’s the real deal.
Now, about that splitting of the sea scene … if only there had been CGI when the movie was
made.
