Parashat Bo

Though Parashat Bo, at first glance, looks like a seamless continuation of Sipur Yitzeas Mitzrayim (the story of the Esser Makos and Hashem’s eventual victory over Paroh), the parasha’s first two pasukim (Hashem’s message to Moshe that He has hardened Paroh’s heart to bring more plagues upon Mitzrayim and give us something to tell our children about at the Pesach Seder) suggest quite the opposite. Did Hashem just begin to harden Paroh’s and his slaves’ hearts? Did He just begin to perform His signs in Mitzrayim? Haven’t we been through seven makos already? Don’t we already have a story to tell our children on Seder night, even if Hashem never brings Arbeh, Choshech, or Makas Bechoros?

And yet the story of Parashat Bo is somehow being introduced as a whole new tale. This is the first time Hashem has mentioned anything about Sipur Yitzeas Mitzrayim; there was no mention of the makos being “Lima’an Tisapeir Es Bincha” in the previous two parashiot. This is also the first time Hashem says anything about “Asher Hisalalti BiMitzrayim,” His intention to make a mockery of Egypt. Until now, we read about Osos Gedolos and Shfatim Gedolim, Hashem’s intention of executing a fair judgement of the land. All of a sudden, with the start of this week’s parasha, Hashem puts Din on the side and turns Mitzrayim’s downfall into a big joke.

Furthermore, where do we see Hashem making a mockery of Mitzrayim? Truth be told, there was no makah that made Paroh look more foolish than Barad. In the makah’s warning, Moshe told Paroh and his servants that they had the option of bringing their livestock and produce inside; anything indoors would be safe from the hail. The Midrash notes that Paroh was stubborn and refused to bring in any of his possessions in a display of his obstinacy. Only after such a childish mistake was Paroh able to admit “Chatasi HaPa’am.” What could Hashem possibly do to make Paroh look any more ridiculous?

A closer read into the pasuk’s words, however, indicates that Hashem’s intention in Bo was not to make Paroh look bad, but rather Mitzrayim. After Makas Barad, one would be surprised that Paroh still commanded perfect control over the nation. When Moshe and Aharon leave the palace, Paroh’s servants call them back and beg Paroh to let the nation go, but not one servant even considers calling Paroh unfit for the throne. Everybody seems so subservient to this maniacal tyrant that the concept of a democracy, even for this one crucial moment, is out of the question. And Hashem, in these final three makos, is not out to make Paroh regret his tyrannical reign but rather out to make Mitzrayim regret and reconsider their monarchial system.

Hashem warns Paroh “Ad Masai Ma’anta LeiAnos MiPanai Shalach Ami ViYa’avduni,” for how long will you refuse to humble yourself before me, let my nation go and they will serve me. First Hashem tells Paroh to act humbly in front of Him, to consider himself at a lower position; yet in the same pasuk, Hashem tells Paroh not just to let the nation go but to send them, to order their departure. If Paroh were to truly humble himself before Hashem, he would accept the release of the Jewish nation to be outside of his jurisdiction, he would say, “who am I to argue with Hashem’s desire.” Hashem’s very request is a charade, and Paroh never figures this out, which is why we could expect even after Makas Bechoros that Hashem will harden Paroh’s heart.

The people of Mitzrayim simply viewed this episode as a battle between Hashem and Paroh for possession of the Jews. Even if they feared the makos and imminent destruction of their country and begged Paroh to send the nation, they still humbled themselves in front of their king and not in front of Hashem. Paroh’s nation, even those who feared Hashem and brought in their produce and livestock during Barad, may have been willing to admit a loss to Hashem, but they were in no way ready to admit to the falsity of their beliefs and culture, to the fact that their gods weren’t even adversaries to Hashem but were under Hashem’s control.

In the warning before Arbeh, Moshe threatens Paroh “Im Ma’ein Atta LiShaleiach Es Ami Hinnini Meivi Machar Arbeh… ViAchal Es Yesser HaPleita HaNisheres Lachem Min HaBarad,” if you don’t let the Bnei Yisrael go, I will plague you with locusts, and they will eat all the leftover produce that the hail did not destroy. What kind of threat is this? Paroh doesn’t have any “Pleita;” he left everything outside during Barad. The only people who could care about this threat are those who already fear Hashem, those people who would’ve let the Bnei Yisrael free by now. It was those Mitzrim who bore the brunt of this Makah and were taught a real lesson by Hashem.

Again, in Choshech, Paroh agrees to let the Bnei Yisrael go worship Hashem, but refuses to let the nation’s livestock go. Moshe insists on not only bringing his own animals, but Egypt’s animals as well. But there is no reason Moshe should mention anything about Egypt’s animals in a response to Paroh; after all, Paroh probably lost his entire flock in Barad a few months earlier. Again, Moshe’s words are not directed at Paroh alone, but more closely affect his servants and his nation, and particularly those who already fear Hashem. The message is clear; the people Hashem is really out to punish are the ones who for no apparent reason insist on leaving Paroh in power though they themselves recognize the foolishness of such actions.

The pivotal fault of the nation was their reliance on the Bechor. Their monarchial system was so effective because it required very little intervention, very little thought. The king’s Bechor, no matter how qualified, or unqualified, would always assume his father’s throne. But within the entrusting of power to the Bechora came the compromising of Bechira, the human capability to choose a proper or qualified leader. Makas Bechoros was the harshest critique of the Egypt culture and these final steps of destruction in fact did make a mockery not of Mitzrayim’s king but instead of the Mitzrim.

The “Osos” Hashem foreshadows in the opening two pasukim are in fact very different from anything experienced in Shemos and Va’Eira, and the mockery is completely different from that which we saw in Makas Barad. Perhaps the most important thing we should recognize, though, is that the commandment for Sipur Yitzeas Mitzrayim is first introduced in this parasha. Sometimes we get so caught up in our Seder that Avadim HaYeinu LiParoh BiMitzrayim that we don’t even notice that Paroh’s name isn’t even mentioned once in Arami Oveid Avi. The Sipur, as implied, is not the retelling of our escape from Paroh’s clutches, but rather the telling of our escape from Mitzri culture, our escape from the belief that Paroh had to be listened to simply because of his birthright.

That’s why one of the final mitzvos of the parasha, as out of place as it seems, is Petter Rechem, the recognition that every firstborn belongs to Hashem. That’s why we are commanded to keep other mitzvos like Rosh Chodesh and Korban Pesach, mitzvos that explicitly order us to be different from our Egyptian neighbors. And once we have earned a new identity and are no longer brainwashed into subservience of the Egyptian Paroh, (and once we witness the consequences of such subservience,) we can truly begin to call ourselves a free nation and begin to move towards a marriage with HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

Good Shabbos.