“Just watch yourself, and carefully guard your soul, lest you forget the things your eyes have seen… and you shall teach them to your children and your grandchildren. The day upon which you stood before Hashem your G-d at Choreiv…”
Devarim 4:9-10
Parashat Va’Eschanan contains not one, but two accounts of Ma’amad Har Sinai. In this first account, Moshe Rabbeinu focuses on the awe and terror of the spectacle, Asher Yilmidun Li’Yirah Osi… ViEs Bineihem Yilameidun (
The Ramban in fact sees these pasukim as two separate Mitzvos: a Mitzvas Lo Sa’assei to never forget Ma’amad Har Sinai; and a Mitzvas Assei to teach one’s children about it, to pass down the tradition.
“This Mitzvah serves a tremendous purpose, for were the Torah delivered solely through Moshe, although his prophesy is fully accredited, if another prophet or dreamer we to arise in our midst and command us to perform counter to our Torah’s instructions, doubt would rise in many men’s hearts. However, once the Torah reaches us by the Word of the Almighty, and our eyes behold no intermediary, all dissent is weakened, and we will recognize the liar”
Perush HaRamban, Devarim 4:9
The Ramban does not focus on the aspect of fright, but he definitely focuses on the ‘sight’ of the event, in contrast to the Mitzvos transmitted. This fits beautifully with the words of the pasukim. We must safeguard those things we see, and we must teach them to our children. It is no wonder the Ramban takes issue with Rashi’s interpretation of the verse.
“Yom Asher Amadta.” This [pasuk] reflects back on the words above, [as if to say] “Asher Ra’u Einecha Yom Asher Amadta BiChoreiv,” [the day upon which] you saw the Kolos and Lapidim.
Rashi, Devarim 4:10
In stark contrast to the Ramban, Rashi restores the focus of this pasuk to the terror of the moment, the presence of Kolos and Lapidim. Peculiarly, though, Rashi insists that the matter we teach our children is not the “Yom Asher Amadta BiChoreiv,” the spectacle of Har Sinai, or else he wouldn’t have to jumble the order of our pasukim. What then does Rashi think we must teach them?
Just watch yourself… when you do not forget [the aforementioned Chukim and Mishpatim – in pasuk 5 –] and you perform them truthfully, you will be considered wise and understanding people. But if you pervert them through forgetfulness, you will be considered idiots.
Rashi, Devarim 4:9
So according to Rashi, we must safeguard ourselves from forgetting the Mitzvos, and we must teach the Mitzvos to our children. But which Mitzvos? The Chukim and Mishpatim? The Aseres HaDibros? The pasuk is hopelessly vague. On one hand the “Devarim” referenced by Moshe Rabbeinu are the aforementioned Chukim and Mishpatim which we must never forget lest we appear like idiots. On the other hand, the “Devarim” must be those ‘things’ we saw with our eyes, presumably at Har Sinai as the subsequent pasuk states. To complicate matters even further, Rashi makes mention of the Kolos and Lapidim, suggesting the “Devarim Asher Ra’u Einecha” aren’t even Mitzvos altogether, but rather flashes of light and sound!
In order to resolve the apparent contradictions between Rashi’s uses of the term “Devarim,” one could suggest that Rashi never meant for the word Devarim to directly attach to the phrase “Asher Ra’u Einecha” as a single clause. Rather, the pasuk should read, “don’t forget those Chukim and Mishpatim, for after all your eyes beheld… the day you stood at Choreiv.” In this case, the Devarim are indeed all Mitzvos – not just the Dibros. Asher means much more than a simple “that” or “which;” in this context it means “for.”
We are left to wonder, though, why Rashi insists on butchering the flow of Moshe Rabbeinu’s address. It would still be clearer and simpler to identify the Devarim as Kolos and Lapidim; then we would have some idea as to why Moshe immediately segues into the “day we stood at Har Sinai.” Instead, Rashi leaves us with a dangling clause, Asher Ra’u Einecha, that attaches to nothing in its own pasuk and has only tangential pertinence to the topic at hand.
Let us return to our original premise, namely that Moshe Rabbeinu here avoids focusing on the Mitzvos themselves and their transmission, but rather focuses on the terror through which we were forced into acceptance, Asher Yilmidun LiYira Osi. The Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh comments that Hashem’s intent to scare the nation out of their wits was not just some grand fireworks display, appropriate for the occasion but otherwise meaningless; rather, it was the only means by which HaKadosh Baruch Hu could remove the callousness from Klal Yisrael’s hearts and give His Mitzvos a chance to endure. From the time Chavah was coerced by the Nachash in Gan Eiden onward, Man was plagued with a Zuhama, literally a stench, that rendered him incapable of fearing Hahsem. Hashem’s Dibros, the same force that expelled the nation’s souls from their bodies, forced out this Zuhama.
“Here lays the root of our Kedusha,” the Ohr HaChaim’s peirush continues, but such matters lie beyond the scope of this medium. What we can superficially gather from these comments is that our fear of Hashem is requisite for eternal and enduring Shmiras HaMitzvos, but such fear is by no means a precondition. The Maharsha elucidates this point beautifully, and then adds a little more:
“…they say embarrassment is a quality trait in any man, but in terms of learning, we are told an embarrassed man never learns. In fact, the gemara in Beitzah states, “why was the Torah given to Yisrael? For they were stubborn and thereby fit to learn the Torah; no embarrassed man could ever learn Torah.” [In resolution of] these two [ideas,] it is the learning of Torah that weakens one’s stubbornness, Ki Yiras HaTorah Hee Al Peneihem (cf. Shemos
Chidushei Agados HaMaharsha, Mesechet Nedarim, 20a
This is a truly original idea. Not only is fear important for keeping to the right path, but brazenness is equally important for acquiring this path in the first place! This runs counter to what we would expect. Surely one who submits to another’s practices without a fight will have a more likely chance of maintaining these practices than one who stubbornly fights against submission and acceptance! Or perhaps not, perhaps only in the short term. The individual who passively accepts another’s commandments is merely acting by his own choice, and he can someday choose to disregard these commandments as easily as he initially regarded them. The stubborn individual, on the other hand, salvages no such authority; in his futile struggle, he relinquishes all authority by force, and is left with no vision of personal choice or volition. His obedience is thus eternally ensured.
We now understand why the terror of Har Sinai was so necessary, and we see how it directly ties into the ability to “fear Hashem all of our days,” but what does this concept have to do with Chinuch, with our obligation to teach Mitzvos to our children? Perhaps Moshe Rabbeinu is teaching his nation that it is each parent’s responsibility to construct a “model” Mattan Torah for his and her children, not in terms of the flashes of light and sound but in terms of the coercion involved. A parent might think his child best off to discover Mitzvos all on his own; surely the child will appreciate the values of such statutes as “do not kill” and “do not steal” if he is the founder of his own moral guidelines. But such a child is no Eved Hashem, he is merely his own boss and capable of walking away from Yideshkeit as easily as the embarrassed and passive student could. In contrast, the child overwhelmed by his parents’ authority will keep the Mitzvos for the proper reason – not because they are right or moral but because he was told to and forced to and no alternative remains.
Perhaps this is what Moshe Rabbeinu means when he claims that we will appear Chachamim nad Nevonim in the eyes of the other nations when we keep the Chukim U’Mishpatim. One should wonder, why would the Umos HaOlam praise us for our observance of Chukim, senseless laws with no rational foundation? Quite the contrary, shouldn’t they ridicule us? But if we accept that our “wisdom” lies not in our devotion to morality but rather in our devotion to consistency, then it is easy to see what is so praiseworthy about our stance. So long as we don’t doubletalk, and so long as we don’t flip flop, we as individuals serve as ideal models, whether or not we abide by another nation’s code of law.
Everything begins to fall into place. Rashi does not see our parasha as yet another iteration of the need to keep the Mitzvos. Instead, our parasha focuses on a much more specific need. We must keep the Mitzvos for the proper reason. We must serve Hashem because we were forced to. Without this mentality, we may someday succumb to other foreign desires; but as stubborn individuals whose Zuhamos were essentially frightened away, our Avodas Hashem is an eternal surety. In addition, we must provide the same mentality for our children, we must be Michanech them with a forceful authority.
“Just watch yourselves, and guard your souls, lest you forget these Mitzvos.” And what if we ever forget these Mitzvos? Can’t we hope to restore them and their observance? Of course we can, but no longer by force. Once the tradition is broken, anything we choose to keep is not by the command of a higher authority; rather it is by the command of our own authority, and the chain to Sinai is broken. Such are the Devarim, Asher Ra’u Einechah. They are the things – the Mitzvos – we must never even forget, let alone pervert, for our eyes saw frightening things when we received them and – without such sights – they could never be restored to the same degree.
Kabalas Hatorah is more than just an affirmation of Hashem’s Yichidus, and its Mesorah is more than just an accreditation of Moshe’s legitimacy. It stands the pivotal moment when we transformed from a brazen nation into a humble one, and through which became the eternal beacon of truth and consistency for all other nations. Our G-d is always close, and our statutes are always righteous, for we have painstakingly maintained them to the finest detail across countless generations.
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