Parashat Yisro

Before Mattan Torah, Hashem instructs Moshe to relate a few preparatory instructions to the Bnei Yisrael. Moshe is to tell them to do their laundry, not sleep with their wives (Rashi on ViKibsu Simlosam and ViHayu Nichonim), and not touch or ascend Har Sinai. Moshe comes down and says over these instructions, though Moshe’s warning regarding touching Har Sinai, what the Torah calls “making a boundary around the nation” (19:12), isn’t explicitly recorded in the Torah. Nonetheless, we know Moshe did instruct them not to touch the mountain based on a later Rashi (19:23). But the question remains: why doesn’t the Torah record this warning? What makes it any different from the other preparatory instructions?

On the day of Mattan Torah, Hashem again instructs Moshe to go warn the nation not to ascend the mountain (19:22). The question is obvious; didn’t Hashem already have Moshe warn the people? This isn’t the mifarshim’s question, however; rather, it is the question of Moshe Rabbeinu himself (19:23). In response to Moshe’s challenge, Hashem seems to repeat His original instructions from two pasukim earlier; there are a few minor changes in the words, but the message is almost identical. And somehow, Moshe accepts Hashem’s argument and descends to warn the nation in the last pasuk of perek 19.

We are not used to seeing Moshe lose an argument with Hashem. What though could be cause of this gross misunderstanding? If Hashem tells Moshe to warn the people, why would Moshe doubt Hashem’s instructions and point out that he already warned the nation? Doesn’t Hashem know that Moshe warned the nation?! Didn’t Hashem tell him to do so?! Rashi explains that Hashem responds to Moshe that a second warning is needed because this is the moment of Mattan Torah, the Sha’as Ma’aseh, and the previous warning would only suffice prior to Mattan Torah, but not for the moment of Mattan Torah itself. But couldn’t Moshe figure this out, that a new warning was needed because of the extra desire to see Hashem at the moment of Mattan Torah? The Mizrachi answers that Hashem’s response that Moshe and Aharon and the Bechorim should ascend the mountain was Hashem’s way of explaining to Moshe that the moment of Mattan Torah had arrived, but still, shouldn’t Moshe have simply figured this out from the fact that Hashem wanted him to warn the nation again?

The only way to avoid the conclusion that Moshe misunderstood Hashem’s command to warn the nation a second time is to assume that Moshe did not follow Hashem’s command perfectly the first time, which may also eventually come to explain why the Torah strangely omits Moshe’s original warning not to touch the mountain. Had Moshe followed Hashem’s instructions, there would be no reason to question Hashem over the need for a second warning. But perhaps Moshe somehow went beyond Hashem’s request when he warned the nation; therefore, when Hashem requested a second warning, Moshe pointed out that no such warning was necessary.

Moshe’s initial response to Hashem in pasuk 23, many mifarshim point out, proves that there was some sort of misunderstanding or misinterpretation, for while Hashem had earlier instructed a boundary be made around the nation, Moshe responds Ki Atta Ha’eidosa Banu Leimor Hagbeil Es HaHar. Clearly, Moshe didn’t understand Hasehm’s initial instructions and therefore misunderstood why he would need to warn the Bnei Yisrael a second time. The Admor Dovid MiKutsk proposes that while Hashem had instructed for a prohibition on the nation, the “gavra,” Moshe misinterpreted Hashem’s instructions and prohibited the mountain, the “cheftza,” a much stronger prohibition according to the Ran in Nedarim. However, since Aharon the Zekeinim and the Bechorim were to ascend the mountain, the people may become confused since the “cheftza” was apparently not forbidden. Therefore Hashem instructed Moshe to go warn the nation a second time and make sure they clearly recognized the “gavra” prohibition and that it still applied, lest they move too close to the mountain.

However, there is a small difficulty with this answer. Why would Moshe ever think to prohibit the mountain as a “cheftza” if he himself was going up and down? If Moshe warned about the “cheftza,” he should be able to recognize, because he’s standing on the mountain, why Hashem was requesting a second warning. The answer does manage to explain many facets of this confusing story, but it doesn’t cover all the issues, and it certainly isn’t what Rashi tries to explain since it doesn’t recognize any difference between the time of preparation and the moment of action (19:24).

In order to understand what Rashi believes Moshe changed from Hashem’s original instructions, we must look back at those original instructions. First Hashem tells the people to prepare for three days and do their laundry in preparation for the third day, Mattan Torah, because on that day Hashem will come down to Har Sinai in the nation’s midst. Then in the next pasuk, Hashem instructs for a boundary and ends His instructions with BiMishoch HaYoveil Heimah Ya’alu BaHar, permission for anyone to ascend the mountain once the Shchinah has departed, Rashi explains. It is clear that the reason the Bnei Yisrael can’t ascend the mountain is because Hashem’s Shchina is there, and it’s also clear that the Shchinah isn’t there until the third day. Therefore, the only day that the Bnei Yisrael, by Hashem’s command, couldn’t touch the mountain was the day of Mattan Torah.

By Hashem’s instructions, it’s apparent that Moshe did not need to warn the Bnei Yisrael regarding Har Sinai until the third day; therefore, Moshe’s warning to make a boundary was not intended by Hashem as part of his speech to prepare the nation three days in advance. Yet Rashi informs us in pasuk 23 “Moshe argued to Hashem that he did not need to warn the nation again because they had been in a state of being warned for three days prior to Mattan Torah,” so Moshe clearly warned the nation as a preparatory measure three days in advance. Now we can speculate as to why Moshe’s initial preparatory warning was omitted; the command as Hashem instructed was only intended as a one-day rule, but Moshe said it as a three-day preparation by his own cheshbon and not by Hashem’s command.

On the day of Mattan Torah, Hashem instructed Moshe to go tell the nation not to touch the mountain; this was the day Hashem originally wanted Moshe to perform this command. Moshe’s response to Hashem was simple: “I understand you want me to go warn the people now because this is the day you have descended upon the mountain and the day you originally told me to warn them. But you and I both know that a warning at this time simply isn’t necessary because I warned the nation three days ago on my own. Now they have a chazakah of staying away from the mountain, and no matter what they see – your Shechinah, Aharon and the Zekainim and the bechorim ascending – they will never break their chazakah. They aren’t able, they have no reshus over the matter.” It’s as if there’s a strict prohibition on the mountain, on the “cheftza,” because they have spent three full days not touching it.

The Mechilta takes note of pasuk 24, specifically when Hashem says “Leich Reid.” Had Hashem commanded Moshe to speak to the people, the pasuk would have said “Dabeir.” Because of the odd lashon, Rabbi Yehuda Bar Ila’i deduces that Hashem is really admitting that Moshe’s argument was in fact correct, that he in no way misunderstood Hashem and in fact did fully understand the purpose of the warning! Nonetheless, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi adds, Hashem wanted the nation to be warned on the day of Mattan Torah, “BiSha’as HaMa’aseh,” and Moshe wanted the nation to be warned well in advance, “Kodem HaMa’aseh,” and we try not to credit the desire of one above the other, even if Hashem admitted that Moshe argued well. Therefore, Rashi quotes Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi in his peirush, we nowadays warn people of prohibitions both in advance and at the time of the action/prohibition.

And why must we warn people twice? What benefit might it serve? This the Mechilta nor Rashi nor the mifarshim explain, but perhaps we can offer a possible understanding. Within the three-day warning, the Bnei Yisrael develop a habit not to touch the mountain, no matter what they see. When Hashem first says to Moshe to warn them again, He explains “Pen Yehersu El Hashem LiRa’os, ViNafal Mimenu Rav.” Rashi explains on the word Rav that even if a single individual died because of coming too close to the mountain, it would be considered an enormous loss in His eyes because of His care for the nation. Moshe therefore responded “I know how much you love every individual and don’t want to risk any of them dying. That’s why I told them three days ago not to ascend the mountain. Now there’s nothing to worry about.” But within the nation’s newly developed habit, Hashem felt that a little was lost from His connection to the Am, for they no longer listened to their orders out of consideration for Hashem’s word, but rather out of pure habit. Hashem, therefore, ordered the second reminder no longer to tell people not to ascend the mountain, but instead to remind them why they weren’t allowed to ascend, to remind them that touching the mountain wasn’t forbidden for the same reason it was forbidden the previous two days. The day of Mattan Torah was about regard for the Shchina’s presence, not about practicing good habits.

And this is the lesson we commemorate every time we warn each other a second time. We constantly remind each other, and ourselves, why things are forbidden. Not because of good habit or good practice, but because of our endearment and regard for Hashem’s commandments. As effective and correct as Moshe’s argument may have been, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi reminds us that we would never consider Moshe great just because Hashem conceded to him unless we first consider Hashem Himself to be great; there’s always greatness to be regarded in HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

Good Shabbos.

Parashat BiShalach

In the first pasuk of Parashat BiShalach, we are told of Hashem’s plans to lead the Bnei Yisrael through the midbar in a circuitous manner in order to distance them from Mitzrayim. Hashem realized that if the nation was ever given the option between going to war or returning to Mitzrayim, they would abandon their dreams of freedom to pursue their hopes of survival. Hashem’s reasoning seems to make perfect sense, yet at the end of the parasha, when the Jews go to battle with Amaleik, they never consider returning although they aren’t very far from Mitzrayim. Why is Hashem so concerned about the Bnei Yisrael reconsidering their journey to Eretz Yisrael if we clearly see from the end of this parasha that they would rather fight a battle than return to Mitzrayim?

Perhaps Hashem was more concerned with the path the Bnei Yisrael took to get to Eretz Yisrael and not the particular geographical point – and its distance from Mitzrayim – they enter the land. When Rashi gives an example of a war Hashem worried the Bnei Yisrael would fight, namely the fight against the Amaleiki and Kina’ani nations after Moshe told them they could not enter Eretz Yisrael, Rashi notes that the Bnei Yisrael, after this crushing loss, did not think about going back to Mitzrayim. Rashi then adds an assumption of his own: had the nation traveled to this point in a more direct fashion, they would have certainly gone back. Rashi clearly proposes that the path taken towards Eretz Yisrael was much more significant than how far they actually were from Mitzrayim.

Rashi’s proposal, however, remains unsubstantiated, and so he offers a proof. After the report of the Meraglim, the Bnei Yisrael considered turning around and living in Mitzrayim even though they had reached their point in a roundabout fashion. Therefore, kal vichomer, they would certainly have decided to go home at that point had they taken a straight path right to Eretz Yisrael. How does this prove anything?! The fact is that the Bnei Yisrael considered turning around after the Meraglim’s report but didn’t after their fight against the Amaleikim and Kina’anim. So even if a direct path to Eretz Yisrael would make them were more likely to retreat, no proof could be derived from the story of the Meraglim. How then does Rashi know that the Bnei Yisrael would’ve turned around had they traveled the straighter path? If anything, a kal vichomer from their battle against Amaleik in this week’s parasha should suggest exactly the opposite?! What then does Rashi hope to accomplish by bringing this kal vichomeir?

When referring to the story of the Miraglim, Rashi quotes the nations suggestion “Nitinah Rosh ViNashuva Mitzrayima,” let’s appoint a leader and return to Mitzrayim. Why did Rashi have to mention anything about appointing a leader; just mention their consideration to turn around? The Gur Aryeh explains that Rashi’s kal vichomeir is in fact based on these two words, Nitinah Rosh. When the Bnei Yisrael went in a roundabout fashion towards Eretz Yisrael, the only condition under which they would have turned around was if they had a leader; had they taken a direct route, they would have just individually retreated home and not first established a new head.

By traveling in a big circle, the Bnei Yisrael experienced many things: they split the Yam Suf and traveled through it; they received their food directly from Hashem; they experienced Mattan Torah; they kept the mitzvos. The Bnei Yisrael devoted so much time and effort in their journey to Eretz Yisrael that it was impossible for them to just pick themselves up and turn around, even after losing to the Amaleikim and Kina’anim. The only way they could actually imagine giving up after the Miraglim’s report was if they established a new goal; their trip back to Mitzrayim would not just be the forfeiture of months and months of investment but rather the embarkation of a new journey with a new leader and a new goal.

We can now understand why Rashi was so sure the Bnei Yisrael would have turned around had they traveled straight to Eretz Yisrael and lost in battle. Without a substantial investment in their journey, there was no reason they couldn’t just turn around and leave, even without appointing a leader. Had Bnei Yisrael traveled straight to Eretz Yisrael just to lose to Amaleik and Kina’an, they would consider their mission a failure and give up; their journey would be complete, though failed, and they would turn around and settle in Mitzrayim instead. This is what Hashem feared about the direct path through the land of the Plishtim, and this is why Klal Yisrael spent that first year traversing the midbar, even before the Cheit HaMiraglim. Ultimately, the nation invested too much effort in their journey to ever consider the trek to be for naught simply because the Amaleikim and Kina’anim could beat them in battle.

At first, it seemed strange that Bnei Yisrael didn’t retreat back to Mitzrayim when Amaleik attacked, but now it’s perfectly understandable why they never would have even considered turning around. Amaleik objected to Klal Yisrael’s investment in the mitzvos and their devotion to Hashem, so there never would have been a battle had the Jews not been so devoted. Amaleik only attacked after the Jews were given mitzvos like Shabbos and showed a real investment in their Avodas Hashem. And the Jews’ response was an inspired retaliation, their defense of all their investment and devotion, and not their reconsideration of it.

The parasha’s ending can be read as a sad story, how the Jews question Hashem’s presence in their midst and were nearly annihilated just weeks after celebrating their freedom. But it can also be read from the more upbeat perspective, their accomplishment in the battle, not just their success in war but also their willingness to fight and to stand up for their beliefs and devotions. As much as the Bnei Yisrael ever doubted in Hashem, they never faltered in their devotion to Him and to His mitzvos, and so even after “HaYeish Hashem BiKirbeinu Im Ayin,” Mattan Torah was only a few short weeks away.

Good Shabbos.

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.