In Parshat Va’era,1 the Torah interrupts the storyline of the Egyptian bondage and G‑d’s promise of redemption and begins enumerating the genealogy of the 12 tribes. It starts with Reuben, Jacob’s eldest son, and his children, proceeds to the brothers born immediately after him, Simeon and Levi, and their descendants. When it reaches Moses and Aaron, the great-grandchildren of Levi, suddenly the genealogical record stops. It never moves on to the fourth of Jacob’s sons, Judah.

Why?

Some, like Rashi,2 reason that the Torah only wanted to give us the ancestry of Moses and Aaron, the descendants of Levi, but started from the beginning with the eldest son, Reuben. Rashi also suggests that since Jacob had previously chastised Reuben, Simeon, and Levi, this was an attempt to sort of make it up to them and demonstrate their worthiness.

Why list Moses and Aaron’s genealogy in the first place? To remind us that as great as they were, they were still only human beings after all.

One could certainly be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Splitting the sea was no Purim prank. Receiving the Ten Commandments from G‑d on the mountain was no mere Cecil B. DeMille production. To have believed that Moses was a celestial being would not have been implausible.

But no, says the Torah. Moses and Aaron were both sons of Amram and Yocheved. Amram was the son of Kehat who was the son of Levi, so Moses was the great grandson of Levi, son of Jacob. A mortal man born of mortal man and woman. A human being of flesh and blood, just like you and me.

They were neither gods nor demi-gods, and yet look at what incredible greatness they achieved!

Now, while we should not be suffering any delusions of grandeur and think we are the next Moses or Aaron, we are encouraged to learn from their shining examples and aspire higher. Look how much they accomplished despite their very human shortcomings!

Can I emulate Moses, the greatest prophet that ever lived? Who am I? If I thought myself equal to Moses, I would be either supremely arrogant or completely nuts. And yet, there is an important message here: Do not sell yourself short. Never underestimate your own human potential or anyone else’s for that matter. The titans of the Torah were human beings and so are we.

The classic book of Tanya sets out to explain how reaching our Jewish potential is eminently doable. Being a good Jew is actually “very near to you.”3 The author and founder of Chabad, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, shows us that while we all have our struggles and our demons, we also have the G‑d-given strength to overcome them. Yes, we can reach for the sky. Yes, we can banish every improper thought from our minds the minute it tries to enter. We do, in fact, have the power to resist every urge or temptation. It is a philosophy predicated on a belief that we are all innately good and filled with enormous potential for doing good. Yes, we can aspire higher.

Our long-awaited Redeemer is also going to be a human born of father and mother. He is called “son of David” and must be a descendant of King David, literally.

Moses and Aaron were heroic leaders, but they were not angels or superhuman. Without losing perspective or common sense, we should still trust ourselves to go for broke and achieve the “impossible.”

Please G‑d, we will.