Parashath Bë-Shallah (Exodus XIII,17-XVII,16) 2/3/12

A.

In this week’s parasha, the story of the Exodus reaches its dramatic climax as the mighty Egyptian army meets destruction in Yam Suf. The scene is familiar enough: The multitude of men and women of all ages, encumbered with children and all their worldly possessions, cower in terror-stricken panic as they watch the headlong rush of every vehicle in Egypt which would roll, all bearing maddened soldiers bent on their liquidation.

Then Moshe’s voice rings out, stilling their frightened protests: אל תיראו התיצבו וראו את ישועת ד' אשר יעשה לכם היום כי אשר ראיתם את מצרים היום לא תסיפו לראתם עוד עד עולם: (“Fear not, position yourselves and see Ha-Shem’s salvation which He will do for you today; for as you have seen Egypt today you will not continue to see them forever more”; XIV, 14). And, indeed: וירא ישראל את מצרים מת על שפת הים: וירא ישראל את היד הגדלה אשר עשה ד' במצרים וייראו העם את ד' ויאמינו בד' וכמשה עשדו: (“And Israel saw Egypt dead at the seashore. And Israel saw the great hand [ha-yad ha-gëdola] which Ha-Shem made for them through Egypt; and the people feared Ha-Shem, and they believed in Ha-Shem and in Moshe His servant”; ibid., 30-31).

Two things are striking about the above passages: The first is the interplay between the two rather similar verbs, yara’ (“fear”) and ra’a (“see”). A bit of reflection reveals that they appear related, in that both share a primal core réysh-alef, which in the first instance is augmented by the radical prefix yud and in the second instance by suffixation of silent hé, i.e., expressed as a vowel. The implications of this relationship are worth exploring.

The second is the odd expression, “the great hand” which Ha-Shem made for them through the medium of Egypt’s downfall. Whatever does that mean?

B.

Let us deal with the second first; the Maharal mi-Prag sheds light on it in one of his classic works (גבורות ד' פנ"ח).

He begins by quoting a midrash familiar to anyone who attends the Passover séder: רבי יוסי אומר מנין אתה אומר שלקו המצרים עשר מכות ועל הים חמשים מכות? במצרים מה הוא אומר "ויאמרו החרטמים אל פרעה אצבע אלקים היא" ועל הים מה הוא אומר "וירא ישראל את היד הגדלה אשר עשה ד'" וכו' כמה לקו באצבע עשר מכות ועל הים לקו חמשים מכות (“Rabbi Yossi says, 'Whence do you say that the Egyptians suffered 10 blows [makkoth] and at the sea 50 makkoth? Concerning Egypt, what does it say: “And the hartummim said to Pharaoh, 'It is the finger of G-d’ [VIII, 15]," and at the sea what does it say: "And Israel saw the great hand which Ha-Shem made...."; how much were they afflicted by the finger? Ten makkoth, and at the sea they were afflicted 50 makkoth'”; הגדה של פסח). For Rabbi Yossi it appears to be a simple multiplication problem: Ten makkoth per finger times five fingers yields 50 makkoth.

The Maharal then goes on to note that, although etzba‘ “finger,” occurs but once in the narrative, the word yad is used repeatedly, e.g., in Exodus III, 2; VII, 5; and IX, 3 (aside from our passage), distinguishing our passage from all the foregoing by noting that only in our instance does yad occur with definite prefix ha-, ויראה שדקדקו הם מלשון היד כו' דמשמע כל היד (“And it may be seen that [Hazal] deduced from the expression ‘ha-yad’... that it connotes the entire hand”). Whereas in the case of each makka in Egypt proper they understood שהמכה עשה באצבע ויקרא החלק בשם הכל (“that He did the makka with an etzba‘ and called the part by the name of the whole”); though G-d moved His entire hand, as it were, to deal each blow to the Egyptians, the blow itself was done with the flick of a finger, as it were. This was not the case at Yam Suf.

Why? כי המכות במצרים לא היו באים לאבד את מצרים בכלל לכך לא היו המכות במצרים רק פרטים ולא באו דרך כללות עד שעל הים אז רצה להביא הקדוש ברוך הוא על מצרים מכה כוללת כי רצה להעניש מצרים במה שעשו לישראל (“For the makkoth in Egypt [proper] were not coming to wipe out Egypt in totality; therefore, the makkoth were but individual ones, and did not come by way of a collective generality, until at the sea; then the Holy One, Blessed is He wished to bring upon the Egyptians a collective makka, for He wished to punish Egypt because of what they had done to Israel”).

The Maharal then explains how it was that Israel actually saw this apparition which the Torah terms ha-yad ha-gëdola, whilst they observed only the effect of the etzba‘ in the earlier series, not the etzba‘ itself as due to the shëlémuth, “perfection,” inherent in the number five. He elucidates this shëlémuth through the metaphor of geometry.

The number one, he tells us, has no shëlémuth because it represents a single point, and therefore has no hithpashtuth, no dimensionality at all. Two is little better, for it connotes two points laid side by side. Regardless of their direction, position, or distance, the only figure which can be drawn between two points is a line, which has dimensionality along its length alone, With four points properly laid out, though, it is possible to construct two sides of a square and since it is a square, the entire area of the figure can be calculated along both its length and its breadth.

But the four points must be properly laid out, that is, the lines must be integrated and unified so as to make those measurements possible: רק על ידי אמצעי שהוא בתוכם שהוא אינו צד בפני עצמו והוא החמשי והוא אחדות השטח (“only by means of a mid-point which is inside them and a side in and of itself, and this is the fifth [point, which makes possible] the unity of the area”).

The peculiar sanctity inherent in such an integrated and unified field, he adds, is illustrated by the mishna: מנין לחמשה שישבו ועוסקים בתורה ששכינה ביניהם? תלמוד לומר "ואגדתו על ארץ יסדה" וגו' (“Whence [do we learn] for five men who sat down and are engaged in Torah, that the Shëchinah is amongst them? The teaching is to say, ‘He has founded His band [aguddatho] upon earth’ [Amos IX, 6]”; אבות פ"ג מ"ו בגירסא שהניא רבינו כאן). An agudda is not some random grouping of things thrown together, but rather one built around some principle of organisation, as evidenced by other uses of the root, e.g. iggéd, “bind together, join, unite.” To my mind, this concept can be related to DeBroglie’s matter waves, in which a series of parameters – wavelength, amplitude, magnitude, frequency, and the like – are unified by the wave-form to create a unique entity which becomes susceptible to human perception. The Maharal’s integrated field, then, is the metaphysical origin of the matter wave.

With this in mind, the Maharal reconsiders the numbers; Rabbi Yossi’s calculation presupposes ten makkoth associated with each etzba‘, such that the five of them together result in 50; what, exactly, does that mean?

The Maharal reminds us that we are resident in the world of teva‘, “nature”, and that therefore any phenomenon which we perceive as contra naturam must have its origins in the supernal realm which generated and maintains ours, אשר משם באים הנסים כו' ולעולם תמצא כי הדבר שהוא קדוש ונבדל לגמרי הוא העשירי, כי העשירי תמיד קודש לד', והענין הזה שהעשירי יוא קודש אין כאן מקומו לבאר. ומפני כך כאשר הביא השם יתברך הנסים מן העולם הקדוש הנבדל אל עולם טבע החמרי היו עשר כי מדריגת עולם הנבדל שהיא נבדל מן עולם הטבע נחשב עשר נגד עולם הזה וגו' (“since thence come the miracles... and you will always find that the thing which is holy and utterly set apart is the 10th, for the 10th [‘asiri] is always sacred to Ha-Shem. And here is not the place to elucidate this concept that the 10th is sacred. For this reason, when Ha-Shem brought the miracles from the holy world which is set apart [‘olam ha-nivdal] to the world of material nature, they were 10, for the level by which the ‘olam ha-nivdal, is nivdal from the world of teva‘, is considered 10....”).

In the interests of space let us take the Maharal’s words for true without further comment, save to note the inherent sanctity with which the Torah invests the ma‘sér, the 10th part of all Israel’s crops, flocks, herds, and wealth, and also the Ten Sëfiroth through which metaphysical energy sustains our world (cf., most recently, A”z Yashir, Parashath Shëmoth, 5772).

D.

In consideration of our first question, the Birkath Tov notes in the name of his father, founder of the dynasty of Ozherov, Rabbi Leibush ha-Gadol זצוק"ל that Moshe, perceiving the palpable yir’a (“fear”) as Israel beheld the onrushing Egyptians, rearranged the letters to change the equation and bring about rë’iya, “seeing, perception.”

As I noted at the outset, the two words appear to share a primal root which (if it occurred in the Biblical corpus, which it does not) would be réysh-vav-alef. However, my ongoing research into the roots of the Holy Language seems to show that the secondary root derived from the primal by suffixing silent hé is generally closest to the primal meaning (for example, the root gimmel-vav-lamed, which connotes movement, particularly in a rolling, cyclic manner cf., e.g., Psalm XXII, 9; Proverbs XVI, 3), yields gala, “roll off, move away”). Our primal root, therefore, would seem to have something to do with per-ception.

The radical prefix yud, on the other hand, imparts directionality to the primal meaning; tzadi-vav-alef means “extrude, excrete”; yud-tzadi-alef means “exit, leave, go out.”

Yir’a runs the semantic gamut from “fear” through “wariness” to “awe” and even “reverence.”Fixation on any phenomenon or entity which gains one’s attention, such that one’s perception is directed to it, can generate all of these emotions, even when the entity is not necessarily all that awe-inspiring to begin with; after all, as has been noted before in these pages, the Egyptians conceived the ram, the male sheep, as the avatar of their creator god.

After 210 years of involvement in the civilisation of the Nile (whose ruined buildings inspire awe to this day), the last 80 of them in servile bondage to the Egyptians, had instilled all of them in Israel; the sight of that massive, army charging at them full tilt brought them all to the fore.

Al tir’u, barked Moshe -- “Fear not” – hithyatzvu u-r’u eth yëshu‘ath Ha-Shem – “Position yourselves and see Ha-Shem’s salvation.” He had to change their perception to break the spell; they had to look elsewhere. Va-yar’ Yisra’él eth ha-yad ha-gëdola – “And Israel saw the great hand” – Va-yir’u ha-‘am eth Ha-Shem – ‘and the people feared Ha-Shem.”

Rearranging the letters of the Holy Language had changed the direction of their percep-tion, with all of the accompanying emotions. Ki asher rë’ithem eth Mitzrayim ha-yom lo’ thosifu li-r’otham ‘od ‘ad ‘olam (“For as you have seen Egypt today, you will not continue to see them, ever more.”

Parshath Bë-Shallah Exodus XIII,17-XVII,16) 1/14/11

A.

Our parasha tells of the climax of Israel’s liberation from Egypt with dramatic finality. The Makkath Bëchoroth in last week’s reading seemed finally to have broken Pharaoh: ויקרא למשה ולאהרן לילה ויאמר קומו צאו מתוך עמי גם אתם גם בני ישראל ולכו עבדו את ד' כדברכם: גם צאנכם וגם בקרכם קחו כאשר דברתם ולכו וברכתם גם אתי: ותחזק מצרים על העם למהר לשלחם מן הארץ כי אמרו כלנו מתים: (“And he called to Moshe and Aharon at night and said, 'Get up, get out from amidst my people, both you and the bënei Yisra’él, and go serve Ha-Shem as you have spoken. Take also your ovicaprids and also your cattle, as you have spoken, and go, and you will bless me also.' And Egypt pressed upon the people to hurry to send them out of the country, for they said, 'All of us are dead'”; XII, 31-33).

The last remark was surely no exaggeration: With their livestock dead in the fields and their crops blasted by supernatural hail or eaten by locusts, the Egyptians faced a grim future indeed. Hence, explains the Ha‘améq Davar, אם נפרש "על העם" על ישראל יקשה הלשון "לשלחם" כי ישראל לא היו המשלחים רק המשולחים אבל קאי על אנשי חיל שלהם שיעשו בכח ידיהם (“If we interpret ‘upon the people’ [to mean] ‘upon Israel’, the term ‘to send them out’ becomes difficult, for Israel were not doing the sending out, but were being sent; rather, it refers to the men of their army, that they should act with force of arms”). The Egyptians clearly had had enough.

As a consequence of the military escort, Pharaoh received regular reports of progress of the vast throng as they wended their way eastward. Thus, when Israel doubled back under G-d’s guidance, he learnt of it: ואמר פרעה לבני ישראל נבכים הם בארץ סגר עליהם המדבר (“And Pharaoh said of the bënei Yisra’él, They are confused in the land, the desert has closed upon them”; XIII, 3). It thus appears that Pharaoh still had designs on Israel.

Whereupon. G-d tells Moshe: וחזקתי את לב פרעה ורדף אחריהם ואכבדה בפרעה ובכל חילו וידעו מצרים כי אני ד' וגו' (“And I shall strengthen Pharaoh’s heart and he will chase after them; and I shall weigh upon Pharaoh and all his army, and Egypt will know that I am Ha-Shem....”; v. 4). And then: ויגד למלך מצרים כי ברח העם ויהפך לבב פרעה ועבדיו אל העם ויאמרו מה זאת עשינו כי שלחנו את ישראל מעבדנו (“And the king of Egypt was told that the people had fled; and Pharaoh’s and his servants’ heart turned to the people, and they said, What have we done, that we sent Israel from serving us!?”; ibid., 5), setting in motion anything in Egypt that would roll, כל רכב מצרים (“every vehicle of Egypt”; ibid., 7) in hot pursuit.

By the seventh day out, the avenging army had caught up with the slow-moving mass of ex-slaves,וישאו בני ישראל את עיניהם והנה מצרים נסע אחריהם וייראו מאד ויצעקו בני ישראל אל ד': ויאמרו אל משה המבלי אין קברים במצרים לקחתנו למות במדבר כו' הלא זה הדבר אשר דברנו אליך במצרים לאמר חדל ממנו ונעבדה את מצרים כי טוב לנו עבד את מצרים ממתנו במדבר: (“...and the bënei Yisra’él raised their eyes and behold, Egypt was rushing after them; and they became very afraid, and the bënei Yisra’él cried out to Ha-Shem. And they said to Moshe, 'Was there a dearth, no graves in Egypt, to take us to die in the desert?!.... Is this not the thing which we said to you in Egypt: Leave us alone and let us serve Egypt, for serving Egypt is better for us than dying in the desert'”; ibid., 10-12).

B.

At this point, the Talmud picks up the story: ארבע כיתים נעשו אבותינו על הים אחת אומרת נפול לים ואחת אומרת נחזור למצרים ואחת אומרת נעשה עמהן מלחמה ואחת אומרת נצווח כנגדן (“Our forefathers fell into four groups at the sea: One saying, 'Let us fall into the sea'; and one saying, 'Let us return to Egypt'; and one saying, 'Let us make war on them'; and one saying, 'Let us cry out against them'”; ירושלמי תענית פ"ב ה"ה).

To each of these groups, the account continues, the next verses in our parasha constitute a reply: To those contemplating mass suicide in despair, Moshe said: אל תיראו התיצבו וראו את ישועת ד' וגו' (“Be not afraid, stand fast and see the salvation of Ha-Shem...”); to those counseling return to Egypt, he said: כי אשר ראיתם את מצרים היום לא תוסיפו לראותם עוד עד עולם (“...for that you see Egypt today, you will not continue to see Egypt again forever”). To those contemplating a last, desperate stand against the enraged foe, Moshe counseled: ד' ילחם לכם (“Ha-Shem will fight for you”); and finally, to those souls seeking a prayer vigil, Moshe said: ואתם תחרישון, “and you will be silent”; עפ"י תורה תמימה, אבל עיי' גם קרבן העדה שם בירושלמי המפרש בדרך אחרת ).

The first three responses – mass suicide, giving up and returning to servitude, waging a futile and pointless struggle against trained and equipped soldiers – will be seen as desperate acts born of fear; but surely prayer was the most appropriate response to the crisis, as a plethora of references recommend; for instance, King David said: מן המיצר קראתי קה, “From the tight spot I called out to Ha-Shem”; Psalms CXVIII, 5), or the prophet Yona: קראתי מצרה לי, “I cried out from my suffering”; Jonah II, 3). All of Israel had reached the stature of prophets, Hazal tell us: ראתה שפחה על הים מה שלא ראה יחזקאל בן בוזי בימיו (“A servant girl saw at the sea what the prophet Yëhezqél ben Buzi never saw in his life”; מכילתא בשלח סי' ב'), and הקב"ה מתאוה לתפלתן של צדיקים (“The Holy One, Blessed is He, desires the prayer of tzaddiqim’;ס"ד: יבמות). Why, then, should Moshe order them to be silent?

Several commentators ask this question, and the consensus interpretation seems to be that G-d had already told Moshe what was going to happen; that the Egyptians would be roused once again to headlong, precipitous action, racing after the bënei Yisra’él, but would have their comeuppance; hence, they tell us, what was there to cry out about? To the contrary, as G-d Himself tells Moshe: מה תצעק אלי דבר אל בני ישראל ויסעו (“Why should you yell at Me? Speak to the bënei Yisra’él and they will go”; עיי' למשל רמב"ן, ספורנו, ואור החיים על אתר ).

But, as we have already read, the bënei Yisra’él were already calling out to Ha-Shem; what really was the issue? Why should a group of frightened people, seeing their long-time oppressors rushing after them, not cry out to G-d for salvation and help?

C.

If we turn to the Zohar, we find: תא חזי ההוא מלה דנפיק מפומי' דבר נש סלקא ואתער אתערותא לעילא אי לטב אי לביש וכו' הכא דינא ברחמי הוה דחפא עליהון ימא ומיתו ולבתר אפיק לון ימא וקודשא בריך הוא בעא ביקריהון ואתקברו בארעא כו' הה"ד "נטית ימינך תבלעמו ארץ". ובגין דא דינא ברחמי הוה ועל דא לא בעא קדשא בריך הוא דיתערון ישראל מלה בעלמא דאי יתערון ישראל מלה לא יתערון שמא דרחמי ולא יתעביד דינא ברחמי הדא הוא דכתיב "ד' ילחם לכם ואתם תחרישון" (“Come see, that word which leaves a person’s mouth rises and brings about a awakening Above, whether for good or for evil... Here [in the destruction of the Egyptian army] it was a case of judgment through mercy [dina bë-rahmei] that the sea covered them over and they died, and afterward the sea brought them out, and the Holy One, Blessed is He, desired their honor, and they were buried in the earth... as it is written, ‘You stretched forth Your right hand, the earth swallowed them up’ [i.e., after they had drowned; XV, 12]. And because of this, it was dina bë-rahmei, and for this reason the Holy One, Blessed is He did not wish that Israel raise a word in the world, for if Israel would raise a word, it would not awaken the Name of mercy, and a dina bë-rahmei would not be done; hence it is written, ‘Ha-Shem will fight for you, and you be silent”; ח"ב מ"ז:).

Now let us try to digest what we have just learnt.

D.

We established supra that the overriding emotion informing the outcry of the bënei Yisra’él was fear; hence the word in the Holy Language sent aloft with their tëfilloth was יראה, yir’a. As the Zohar tells us, such a word has consequences, setting up a metaphysical counterpart through which the Divine response would resonate in this world. The problem is that a response mediated by rational, wholly justified fear would be one of pure din, pure judgment, and din, as we have learnt elsewhere (cf., e.g., A”z Yashir, Va-Yéra’ and Hayyei Sara earlier this year), din alone is extremely exacting, with painful consequences for any imperfection in this world.
The Divine intent was the fine balance implicit in the Zohar’s phrase dina bë-rahmei, in which both din and rahamim would be applied in proper measure. The pursuing Egyptian army would be destroyed, to be sure, but there were mitigating circumstances: The Egyptians’ rage was, at least in part, driven by the anguish of the mass starvation awaiting them and their families in the wake of the makkoth. The Egyptian people, as the Ha‘améq Davar points out, in contrast to their king, at this stage wanted only that Israel leave by the swiftest route possible, and urged deployment of the army to that end. These mandated at least that the pursuers be brought to proper burial, not left for fish-food at the bottom of the sea. This measure of Divine compassion for the Egyptians is evident from another famous ma’amar Hazal: בקשו מלאכי השרת לומר שירה אמר הקב"ה מעשי ידי טובעין בים ואתם אומרים שירה?! (“The ministering angel sought to sing [at the Egyptians’ downfall]; said the Holy One, Blessed is He, 'The products of My hands are drowning in the sea and you are singing?!'”; מגילה י:). Israel, having suffered at Egyptian hands, were justified in singing of their downfall, but not the mal’achim.

But yir’a had already been launched, with the initial outburst of fearful tëfilla at sight of the Egyptians; left unchanged, the purest din would result, with dire consequences.

So Moshe, the gadol ha-dor, intervened. As we have previously established (cf. A”z Yashir, Noah, 5770), all the phenomena of this world come about and are governed by combinations and permutations of letters of the Holy Alphabet. Note what Moshe told the bënei Yisra’él: אל תיראו התיצבו וראו את ישועת ד', “Fear not, stand fast and see Ha-Shem’s salvation”. יראה, “fear,” had been transmuted into ראי-ה, “sight,” and dina bë-rahmei duly took place, as Israel testified in the song at the sea: מרכבת פרעה וחילו ירה בים ומבחר שלשיו טבעו בים סוף: תהמת יכסימו ירדו במצולות כמו אבן: ימינך ד' נאדרי בכח ימינך ד' תרעץ אויב כו' נטית ימינך תבלעמו ארץ: (“Pharaoh’s chariots and his army He cast into the sea; the choice of his officers were drowned in Yam Suf. Waves covered them; they sank into the depths like a stone. Your right hand, Ha-Shem, is glorious in power; Your right hand, Ha-Shem, breaks up an enemy.... You stretched out Your right hand, earth swallows them up”; XV, 4-6, 12; לאחר שכתבתי שורות אלו ראיתי כי הרה"ג בעל הברכת טוב כתב כעין זה בשם אביו הקדוש, עיי"ש בליקוטים. הוא פתח את צנור החכמה וברוך שכיונתי).

Thus does our parasha afford us a glimpse of how human beings interface with Ha-Shem and share in running the world.

Parshath Bë-Shallach (Exodus (XIII,17-XVII,16) 1/29/10

A.

As the bënei Yisra’él proceed through the desert on their way to the encounter at Sinai, they arrive a place called Rëfidim, ואין מים לשתת העם (“and there [was] no water for the people to drink”; XVII, 1). The people crowd around Moshe to complain that they, their children, and their cattle are dying of thirst, and Moshe turns to Ha-Shem. G-d’s advice is that he appear before the people, and take with him some of their leaders, the “elders of Israel” ומטך אשר הכית בו את היאר (“and your staff with which you struck the Nile”; v. 5), with which he was to strike a specific rock and bring forth water.

However, as we page back through the preceding parashoth we are reminded that Moshe, in fact, did not strike the Nile with his staff; due to the necessity that he show hakkarath ha-tov, gratitude, to the river which had saved his life as an infant, Aharon was explicitly instructed to do it instead (cf. VII, 19-20, Rashi ad loc.). Why, then, does G-d address Moshe as though he had done it? Come to that, why does G-d find it relevant to mention the first makka here, rather than any of the “signs and wonders” which Moshe had, indeed, brought about by manipulating his staff?

B.

Rashi asks our second question, and answers שהיו ישראל אומרים על המטה שאינו מוכן אלא לפורענות בו לקה פרעה ומצרים כמה מכות במצרים ועל הים לכך נאמר "אשר הכית בו את היאר" יראו עתה שאף לטובה הוא מוכן (“that Israel were saying about the staff that it was prepared only for disasters; through it, Pharaoh and the Egyptians had been punished with several blows in Egypt and at the sea. Therefore it is said, ‘with which you struck the Nile’, that they should see now that it was prepared also for good”).

Rashi’s reasoning also appears to underlie what Ramban wrote, והזכיר בו מכת היאור ולא אמר "והמטה אשר נהפך לנחש" או "המטה אשר עשית בו את האותות" כי הזכיר בו פלא כי אז הפך המים לדם והסיר אותם מטבעם ועתה יביא מים בצור החלמיש והנה יעשה בו דבר והפכו (“and He mentioned concerning [the staff] the makka of the Nile, and did not say ‘the staff which was turned into a snake’ or ‘the staff with which you performed the signs’, for He mentioned concerning it a wonder for then He turned the water to blood and removed it from its normal nature, and now would bring water by means of the flinty rock and behold, He would do through it a thing and its reverse”).

And similarly, the Or ha-Chayyim writes וזה יהי' לנס עצום כי זה אשר הבאיש המים הנמצאים ועשאם דם יפעול בכח עליון פעולה נגדיית שימציא מים לשתות העם ויש בה הכחש' מופלאת מנגדת אמתחכמים להעחיש כי הם פלאות אלקי ישראל במטה זה תבקע קרקפתו החושבות זרות (“And this would be an awesome miracle, for this [staff] which caused the existing water to stink and made it blood would carry out with supernal power an opposite function, in that it would bring into existence water for the people to drink; and there would be in it a wonderful refutation opposing those who suppose themselves wise to refute that they are wonders of the G-d of Israel [Eloqei Yisra’él]; with this staff the skull of foreign thoughts would be split”).

C.

To understand what was so essential about demonstrating that the same agent, the staff of Moshe, brought both miraculous ruin and miraculous rescue, it is necessary to remember that the essence of idolatry is egotism (cf. e.g. my comments on parshath Va-Éra’ two weeks ago). If a human being creates his own gods, and then bows before them, before whom is he really bowing? Is not the human being, the creator of the gods, greater than the gods themselves?
In a brilliantly insightful comment on last week’s parasha, the Malbim points out another essential psychological aspect of idolatry rife in the non-Jewish world. It seems that at the same time the narcissistic idolator-egotist worships himself, he also seeks to absolve himself of his responsibilities, by portraying himself as a victim.

At the beginning of last week’s parasha, Moshe announced before Pharaoh and the Egyptian court the eighth blow to fall upon the Egyptians, should Pharaoh continue to refuse to allow Israel to leave for the Divine service which Moshe had been demanding: Locusts, a plague of locusts such as had never been seen before, covering the earth, insatiably devouring everything which remained of the Egyptians’ harvest, to include what was stored in their granaries.
Surely by this time it was plain enough that whatever Moshe decreed came to pass: Time and again wild creatures had swarmed over Egypt (frogs, lice, a mixed group of predacious and venomous creatures); the strangest disasters, a plague which killed only Egyptian beasts in the field but spared those in the barns, or those belonging to the bënei Yisra’él; or the strange hail composed of fire and ice in a country in which rainfall is an exceedingly rare occurrence – all of these made it clear to all that the locusts would indeed come, and would be as awful as described.
So Pharaoh’s courtiers begged him to let the bënei Yisra’él go, lest Egypt be completely doomed, and Pharaoh gave in to them. He had only one remaining question: מי ומי ההולכים; who, precisely, would be going (X, 8)? Moshe answered: בנערינו ובזקנינו נלך בבנינו ובבנותינו בצאננו ובבקרנו נלך כי חג ד' לנו (“With our young men and our old men we shall go, with our sons and with our daughters, with our sheep, goats, and cattle we shall go, for we have a holiday of Ha-Shem”; ibid., 9), whereupon Pharaoh changes his mind: לא כן לכו נא הגברים ועבדו את ד' כי אתה אתם מבקשים ויגרש אתם מאת פני פרעה (“Not so, let the men go and serve Ha-Shem, for that is what you are asking; and he drove them from before Pharaoh”; ibid., 11).

Pharaoh’s volte-face is nearly inexplicable to the modern mind, without the Malbim’s insight.
The pagan’s emotional world is built around the concept that the gods came in two categories, the good ones, and the evil ones. The good ones are served in order to guarantee that they continue to grant their abundance: that the crops grow, the animals wax fat, the women remain fertile, and so on. The bad ones, on the other hand, are propitiated to fend off disaster. The service performed for either category is a very different thing: The “good” gods are served through song and feasting, at which their wives and children are naturally in attendance; the evil gods are offered blood sacrifice, for they demand blood, and the women and children are kept far away, lest their blood, too, be demanded (as, indeed, archaeological findings reveal the Canaanites clearly believed). The crux of this belief is the notion that human beings is not hold their fate in their own hands; rather, they consider themselves mere pawns, helpless victims in a great, cosmic conflict between two inscrutable powers, one good and one evil, beyond their control.

This concept lies behind the phrase elohim achérim, “other powers” (cf. XX, 3), which incorpor-ates the common Divine name usually translated “G-d,” respectfully rendered Eloqim. The Divine Name is plural in form but always takes a singular verb, for all of the “powers”, whether perceived as good or evil, are in fact aspects of one, solitary, unitary Being. The human being, the dëmuth Eloqim or “likeness of G-d” (Genesis I, 26) similarly owns the capacity for both good and evil, and is, precisely for that reason, fully responsible for his actions.

This was the concept from which Pharaoh recoiled, and which the dual agency of the staff was intended to refute, since not only were the bënei Yisra’él accompanied by the ‘erev rav, who had been integral to the self-deceptive culture of Egypt, but even the bënei Yisra’él themselves, after 210 years of exposure to it, had become susceptible to this dualistic sense of victimhood, of being pawns enmeshed in the game of the gods, rather than independent moral actors who “walked with” G-d, as Avraham did (cf. Genesis). This is why such emphasis is placed on the staff serving not only as an agency of the “dark side,” to bring about disasters, but also as an agency of good.
Just as G-d is, as are His creations.

D.

But, as we also observed, Moshe did not strike the Nile with his staff; why, then, does G-d attribute the action to him?

The Talmud asks our question: וכי משה הכהו והלא אהרן הכהו אלא לומר לך כל המעשה את חבירו לדבר מצוה מעלה עליו הכתוב כאילו עשאה (“Did Moshe then strike it?! Did not Aharon strike it?! But [it is] to tell you, anyone who motivates his counterpart in a matter of a mitzva, Scripture considers it as though he himself did it”: סנהדרין צ"ט:, וע"ע מהרש"א שם ד"ה כל המעשה וגם העמק דבר לפ"ז י"ז ואין כאן מקום להאריך), based, of course, on our passage, and elsewhere we find: גדול המעשה יותר מן העושה (“Greater is the motivator [ha-më‘asseh] than the performer [ha-‘oseh]”; בבא בתרא ט., רש"י שם ד"ה מעשה צדקה). It was Moshe who, at G-d’s instigation, told Aharon to strike the Nile. Moshe, then, was the më‘asseh and Aharon the ‘oseh.

Chazal thus come to assure us, through this passage, that we are not only responsible for our own actions; opportunities exist to influence others, efforts which also redound to the credit of the influencer. Just as Moshe received credit for having induced Aharon to strike the river with his staff, so, indeed, do those who generously give of their time, efforts, and patience to others. Very far from being pawns in some inexplicable conflict human beings are meant to command their fate, in accordance with the Torah.

Parshath B’Shallach (Exodus XIII,17-XVII,16) 2/6/09

A.

Pharaoh changes his mind about allowing the bnei Yisra’él to get away, and resolves to pursue the fugitives with all the forces at his command: ויקח שש מאות רכב בחור וכל רכב מצרים ושלשם על כלו: (“And he took 600 choice vehicles, and all the vehicles of Egypt, and officers [were] over it all”; XIV, 7).

Rashi comments: ומהיכן היו הבהמות הללו? אם תאמר משל מצרים, הרי נאמר "וימת כל מקנה מצרים", ואם משל ישראל והלא נאמר "וגם מקננו ילך עמנו", ומשל מי היו? מהירא את דבר ד'. מכאן הי' רבי שמעון אומר כשר שבמצרים הרוג טוב שבנחשים רצוץ את מוחו (“And from where did [the Egyptians get] these draft animals? If you say, from the Egyptians’ [stock], it is said, ‘and all the livestock of Egypt died’ [IX, 6]; and if [you say] from Israel’s, does it not say, ‘and also our livestock will go with us’ [X, 26]. Whose were they? [They were the property] of ‘the one who feared the word of Ha-Shem’ [X, 20]. From here, Rabbi Shim‘on used to say, 'The most upright [kasher] of the Egyptians, kill [harog], the best of the snakes, crush its head!'”).

Rashi’s source is the collection of midrashim known as the M’chilta. Clearly, any Egyptian whom the Torah describes as “fearing the word of Ha-Shem” is the most kasher amongst them, and yet it was thanks to such Egyptians that Pharaoh retained the ability to pursue the fleeing bnei Yisra’él. That said, the midrash as cited by Rashi raises two questions:

1. Why does Rabbi Shim‘on make specific reference to the best of the Egyptians and the snakes, and use the specific expressions “kill with a sword” (which is the precise definition of harog), and “crush” in their connection?

2. Why does Rashi depart from his usual custom of citing midrashic statement anonymously, and specifically mention Rabbi Shim‘on here?

B.

The Talmud tells us: ארבע מיתות נמסרו לבית דין, סקילה, שריפה, הרג וחנק (“Four methods of execution were transmitted to the Sanhedrin: Sqila [‘stoning’], sreifa [‘burning’], hereg [‘death by the sword’], and cheneq [‘strangulation’]”; סנהדרין מ"ט: במשנה). The gmara then goes on to discuss how specific methods of execution are assigned to specific categories of capital crime.

The above, of course, is true of a properly ordered Torah-state run in accordance with halacha. To our great chagrin, due to our many sins, this is not today any longer the case: We have neither béyth ha-Miqdash nor Sanhedrin to deal with such issues, yet, nonetheless, תנא דבי אלי' כל השונה הלכות בכל יום מובטח לו שהוא בן עולם הבא שנאמר "הליכות עולם לו" אל תקרא "הליכות" אלא "הלכות" (“It was taught in the study hall of Eliyahu ha-Navi, anyone who studies halachoth every day is assured of being part of the world to come, as it is said, ‘the ways [halichoth] of the world are His’ [Habakkuk III, 6]; read not halichoth but halachoth”; מגילה כ"ח).

So halachoth are a part of the very structure of the universe, halichoth ‘olam. What happens when we have no Sanhedrin to administer them and judge capital cases?

מיום שחרב בית המקדש אף על פי שבטלו סנהדרין ארבע מיתות לא בטלו. לא בטלו? הא בטלו להו! אלא דין ארבע מיתות לא בטלו. מי שנתחייב סקילה או שנופל מן הגג או חי' דורסתו, מי שנתחייב שריפה או נופל בדליקה או נחש מכישו, מי שנתחייה הריגה או נמסר למלכות או ליסטים באין עליו, ומי שנתחייב חנק או טובע בנהר או מת בסרונכי (“From the day the Béyth ha-Miqdash was destroyed, even though the Sanhedrin was abolished, the Four Deaths were not abolished. Not abolished?! They were abolished! Rather, the judgment of the Four Deaths was not abolished: Someone who is liable for sqila either falls from a height or a wild animal pounces on him; one who is liable for sreifa either falls into a fire or a snake bites him; one who is liable for hereg is either turned over to the non-Jewish authorities or bandits set upon him; and one who is liable for cheneq either drowns in a river or dies of a disease which constricts the throat”; כתובות ל.).

Halichoth ‘olam indeed; if Israel are unworthy to administer Divine justice, a “natural” means can always be found.

Armed with the above, let us reconsider the case of the Egyptians.

Recall that the worst of the Egyptians, as related in the first parasha in Exodus, sought, at the height of the oppression of the bnei Yisra’él, to drown Jewish infants in the Nile, i.e., to impose a sentence of cheneq on them (as we see from the above). The best of the Egyptians, on the other hand, revealed their hand in making their draft animals available to Pharaoh to pursue Israel. As our parasha itself attests a bit later, אמר אויב כו' אריק חרבי תורישמו ידי (“Said the enemy… I shall draw my sword, my hand will inherit them”; XV, 9), they sought to facilitate putting Israel to the sword.

Now, the Talmud tells us: בגוים כו' מחשבה רעה הקב"ה מצרפה למעשה כו' דכתיב "מקטל מחמס אחיך יעקב" וכי הורגו?! אלא מלמד שחשב עליו להורגו ובעלה עליו הכתוב כאילו הורגו (“Amongst the nations…the Holy One, Blessed is He considers an evil thought as the deed… for it is written: ‘…from killing; from your brother’s violence, Ya‘aqov’ [Obadiah I, 9-10]. Did [‘Esav] actually kill [Ya‘aqov]?! Rather, he thought about killing him, and Scripture considered it as though he was killing him;” ירושלמי פאה פ"א ה"א ועיי' פני משה שם).

With this in mind, then, we see that the intent of the most kasher Egyptians to assist in putting Israel to the sword would be considered for them as though they had actually done it (G-d for-bid). Midda k’neged midda, then, “measure for measure,” death by the sword can be seen as appropriate to them.

C.

Now let us take up “the best of the snakes.”

The worst of the snakes, that is, the most dangerous to human beings are those which are both venomous and aggressive. Unafraid of man, when the opportunity presents itself they strike at a man’s ankle or foot, injecting the venom which, as we have seen in the Talmud’s estimation above, is equivalent to sreifa.

The meaning of the “best of the snakes,” it seems to me, can be inferred from the Torah’s description of the tribe of Dan: יהי דן נחש עלי דרך שפיפן עלי ארח הנשך בעקבי סוס ויפל רכבו אחור (“Dan will be a snake on the path, a horned serpent on the way, which bites a horse’s ankles and its rider tumbles backwards”; Genesis XLIX, 17). The “best of snakes,” then, to whom a tribe of Israel might be compared, shies away from man, but strikes at the horse’s ankle, causing it to rear up and topple its rider. Such a fall from a height, we have seen, is equivalent to sqila, and so, midda k’neged midda, the sentence fitting for the best of the snakes would be the crushing death of sqila. Hence, the terms used in the midrash as quoted by Rashi match the characteristics of the most kasher of the Egyptians and the best of the snakes.

D.

What else was bothering Rashi about this verse the led him to forgo his usual practice and name the author of the midrash, Rabbi Shim‘on?

If we reexamine the mishna cited above, we see that it lists the possible death sentences in the order of their relative severity, from most severe to least severe: Sqila, sreifa, hereg, cheneq.

But now consider: If this is indeed so, then it means that the best of the snakes induces sqila, the most serious death sentence, whilst the worst of the snakes induces sreifa, which is less severe. The best of the Egyptians incurs hereg, which is more severe than the cheneq associated with the very worst of the Egyptians. The equations do not appear to make any sense. This, I believe, is what was bothering Rashi in connection with this drasha and our verse.

If we continue on in the mishna, though, we find that Rabbi Shim‘on disagreed with his colleagues about the order of severity of the Four Deaths; Rabbi Shim‘on held that the order should be: Sreifa, sqila, cheneq, and hereg. So, according to Rabbi Shim‘on, the most severe death, sreifa, is characteristic of the worst of the snakes, whilst the best of them are associated with the lesser sentence of sqila, and the worst of the Egyptians are associated with the relatively severe cheneq, whilst the best of them are associated with the less severe hereg.

In other words, the drasha only makes sense because it was said by Rabbi Shim‘on; hence, Rashi felt obligated to name the author.

Yet another glimpse of the depths within depths revealed by careful examination of the Torah’s many facets.

Parshath B’Shallach (Exodus XIII,17-XVII,16) 1/18/08

A.

ויהי בשלח פרעה את העם ולא נחם אלקים דרך ארץ פלשתים כי קרוב הוא פן ינחם העם בראתם מלימה ושבו מצרימה (“And it was, when Pharaoh sent forth the people; and G-d did not lead them by way of the land of the Plishtim, for it is close, lest the people regret upon seeing warfare and return to Egypt”). So opens our parasha.

The Plishtim were a people related to the Egyptians (cf. Genesis X, 14) who dwelt along the Mediterranean litoral, more-or-less in the area of the nodern Gaza Strip. The Coast Road, known in ancient times as the Royal Road, ran directly through their territory. At the approach of this huge and motley horde of escaped slaves, their army would stand athwart the way and, quailing at the prospect, the bnei Yisra’él would become disheartened and return to Egypt.

Yet, G-d Himself surely knew that He was shortly to demonstrate His power to Israel by miraculously destroying the world’s mightiest army of the day, that of Egypt, at Yam Suf. Then, too, whether Israel approached the Holy Land via the Royal Road, or went round and entered across the Jordan from the east (as eventually happened), there would in any event be a hard-fought campaign before they would claim the country.

Other than the physical proximity, was there something else about the Plishtim in particular which was problematic?

B.

One must remember that the Patriarchs had a long history with the Plishtim. Genesis XX recounts Avraham’s sojourn in the Plishti city of Grar. As he approached the city, Avraham feared that the Plishtim, like their Egyptian relatives, might be tempted to kill him in order to possess the beautiful Sara. Accordingly, he declared her his sister (v. 11). In the end, matters turned out all right; Avimelech did not touch Sara, and they parted on friendly terms.
Nonetheless, the midrash tells us, when Sara finally became pregnant with Yitzchaq, היו אומות העולם אומרים, הלבן מאה שנה יוולד!? אלא היא מעוברת מאבימלך וגו' (“The nations of the world were saying, Can a centenarian sire a child?! Rather, she is pregnant from Avimelech....” תנחומא, תולדות א', ולא כפי גירסת רש"י בבראשית כ"ה י"ט שרק ליצני הדור היו אומרים כן ).

In other words, in the eyes of the nations of the world, Israel was believed to be directly descended from the Plishti royal line. As such, it would certainly seem reasonable and normal to them that Israel would have a claim on the Plishti territory. The Plishtim themselves, of course, knew better; as the Torah itself testifies, their king had not touched Sara, and there was no such relationship.

But the story was out in the world, regardless of its veracity. A war with the Plishtim would seem an internal, “family” affair, and doubtless many amongst the nations would shake their heads and “tut-tut” about the Plishti unwillingness to accomodate their brothers.

Contrast this with the world’s view of Israel’s war against the seven Canaanite nations, a very different thing. As Rashi famously declares in his very first comment on the Torah, יאמרו אומות העולם לישראל, ליסטים אתם שכבשתם ארצות שבעת גויים (“The nations of the world would say to Israel, You are bandits, because you conquered the lands of the seven [Canaanite] nations”).

So why should it be problematic that the world would see Israel’s cause as just? What would be so bad about the sympathy of the nations?

C.

A much later incident in our history, I believe, sheds some light on the matter. The incident is recounted in the Book of Esther.

Esther, of course, was the Jewish girl amongst the exiles in Babylonia who had been selected by the Medio-Persian shahanshah Achashverosh to be his queen. Ruler of a vast multi-ethnic, polyglot empire, Achashverosh was unaware of Esther’ ethnic origins, and cared less, even as he plotted with his official, Haman, to exterminate the Jewish people, מפזר ומפרד בין העמים כו' ודתיהם שנות מכל עם ואת דת המלך אינם עשים גו' (“scattered and separated amongst the peoples... and their ways are different from every [other] people, and the way of the king they do not practise....” Esther III, 8), as Haman said.

Mordechai, Esther’s uncle, learnt of the plot, and told her of it. At Esther’s urging, Mordechai gathered the Jewish population of the capital and decreed a three-day fast of penance, at the end of which Esther, arrayed in all her queenly finery, appeared at the court of the king, specifically to invite him and Haman to a party she was throwing (ibid., IV,4).

Which prompts the Talmud to ask: מה ראתה אסתר שזימנה את המן? (“What did Esther see that she invited Haman?”). After all, she knew exactly who was behind the plot against her people!

Rabbi Nechemya answers: כדי שלא יאמרו ישראל, אחות יש לנו בבית המלך, ויסיחו דעתן מן הרחמים (“So that Israel would not say, 'We have a sister in the king’s household,' and be distracted from [praying for Divine] mercy;” מגילה ט"ו:). By inviting the author of the plot to the party, Esther sought to ensure that Israel would put their faith not in her, but the true Source of their salvation.

So, too, I believe, in our case. Israel knew the truth of their patrimony as much as the Plishtim did. Nonetheless, the story, as the midrash tells us, was widespread, and they could therefore expect considerable sympathy from the nations in their cause. G-d’s fear, I believe, was that Israel would place some measure of faith in that sympathy, however subconsciously; they would “comforted” (another possible meaning of ינחם) by that sympathy. Living, as we do, in the physical realm, such belief in help coming from a “natural” source, the nations of the world, is קרוב, “close” to us.

D.

After the conquest of the Holy Land, Israel dwelt there for approximately 810 years. When Nevuchadnetzar destroyed the First Temple, the remnant of the southern kingdom of Yehuda were exiled to Babylon. Thence, after the Medio-Persian conquest, they were allowed to return home, rededicating a second, more modest Temple seventy years after they had been exiled, which stood another 420 years.

Since the return of the Yehudim from the Babylonian exile, the Holy Land has never lacked a Jewish presence, however tiny. Since the failed wars against the Romans, to be sure, the majority of our people have dwelt in exile, but our dream, our thrice daily prayer, has been to return home.

In the late 1300’s the Ramban was constrained to leave his native Catalonia, and traveled to the Holy Land, recently vacated by the brutal Crusaders who had slaughtered its Jewish population. Having settled in Jerusalem, he tirelessly wrote to all the Jewish communities of the Mediterranean littoral, advising that it was now possible to resettle the Holy Land, and enjoining people to do so. Some did; a trickle of return began.

In 1492, the Spanish government expelled their Jewish population, followed closely by the Portuguese. Many more Jews found refuge in the old-new land. A generation later, a scion of one of the forcible converts to Christianity in Spain, Don Yosef Nasi, was able to leave his native land, return to his heritage, and became a diplomat for the Ottoman court. Rewarded with wealth and lands, he funded the famous community of scholars in Tzfath led by Rabbi Yosef Caro, author of the Shulchan Âruch, and financed the rebuilding of the ancient city of Tiberias.

The seventheenth century saw the Chmielnicki revolt which laid waste to eastern Poland, and many Jewish refugees from Poland’s Ukrainian territories found a haven in the Holy Land. They were followed by the Vitebsker Rebbe and his followers, in the eighteenth century, then by the followers of the Gra, the famous Prushim.

In the ninetenth century. the Mohilever Rebbe founded the Chovevei Tziyyon, and money was raised, land was bought, and Jewish agricultural villages grew up in the ancestral home: Rosh Pina, Rishon l’Tziyyon, Petach Tiqva...

There was nothing in this process of עלי' כחומה, the mass return and reconquest of the country which, the Talmud tells us (כתבות קי"ג:), our ancestors foreswore at the beginning of our present exile. Just a slow, steady trickle of return and resettlement of the Holy people in their Holy Land, to await the redemption there.

And then, the modern, secular Zionist movement was founded at the Basel conference in 1894, and it suddenly became important what the nations thought.

The subsequent history is well enough known. For sixty years, the modern state of Israel, brought into being by a vote of the United Nations in 1947, has led a precarious existence, attacked from all sides. Today, many of the very nations who voted for its creation regret having done so, and snarl at the Jewish state: “You are bandits! You conquered the lands of the Palestinians!”

Perhaps it is not yet too late for us to learn the lesson of our parasha, not to expect justice from the nations. The Holy Land is not ours because the U.N. said so; it is ours because the Al-Mighty said so. ועל מי יש לנו להשען? על אבינו שבשמים (“And on whom do we have to rely? On our Father who is in Heaven”; סוף סוטה ).

When we stop thinking we can rely on anyone else, or anything else, perhaps the process will resume.