PARASHAT SHEMOT

By Rav David Silverberg

            Rashi begins his commentary to Sefer Shemot by explaining, based on the Midrash, why the Torah found it necessary to open this sefer by listing the names of Yaakov’s sons:

Even though it [the Torah] counted them by name during their lifetime (Bereishit 46), it counts them again after their death to demonstrate their love [by God], in that they are likened to the stars, which He takes out and brings in by number and by name, as it says, “who brings out their host by number – He calls them all by name” (Yeshayahu 40:26).

How might we explain this comparison between Benei Yisrael and the stars, and how is it significant that God “calls them all by name”?

            One possible explanation is that the Sages refer here to the importance of consistency in avodat Hashem.  Benei Yisrael are beloved before the Almighty when they “shine” as consistently and reliably as the stars, which appear in the heavens in their designated places each night without fail, rotating precisely and unfailingly in their assigned patterns.  In short, every star is always where it is supposed to be – without exception.  Even before nightfall, we can determine ahead of time with absolute certainty which stars will appear and where they will be positioned.  It is to this reliability, perhaps, that Chazal refer when they describe God “taking out” and “bringing in” the stars “by number any by name.”  The number and formation of the stars are constant and unchanging.  People, too, are “beloved” before God when they exhibit this same kind of consistency, when they “shine” precisely as they are meant to each and every day, regardless of the circumstances.  When we are as unfailing in our obligations as the stars are in theirs, we become worthy of the Almighty’s special love and affection.

            This may shed light on the relevance of the Midrash’s comment to this context – the list of Yaakov’s sons who resettled in Egypt.  As a number of sources indicate, the first generation of Yaakov’s children in Egypt succeeded in maintaining their religious commitments despite their residence in ideologically hostile surroundings.  Yaakov’s sons embodied this quality of the stars – consistent loyalty and devotion under all circumstances.  They were therefore worthy of being counted again like the stars, as a tribute to their persistent and unshakable faithfulness to God regardless of the situation.

(See Rav Moshe Feinstein, Kol Ram, vol. 1)

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            In reviewing the story of Moshe’s experiences upon escaping Egypt and arriving in Midyan, we cannot but notice the striking resemblance between this story and that of Yaakov’s arrival in Charan.  Consider the following parallels:

1)    Moshe comes to Midyan to escape from Pharaoh, who sought to execute him for killing a taskmaster; Yaakov fled to Charan to escape from his brother, who wanted to kill him.

2)    Both Yaakov and Moshe arrive at a well, where they meet the woman they would eventually marry (Rachel, Tzipora).

3)    In both instances, the refugee performs a heroic act at the well: Yaakov removes the heavy stone that normally required the joint effort of all the local shepherds, and Moshe rescues Yitro’s daughters from the shepherds who had chased them away from the well.  And Yaakov, after removing the stone, gives water to the sheep under Rachel’s charge, just as Moshe gives water to Yitro’s sheep after rescuing his daughters.

4)    Yaakov and Moshe both end up working as shepherds for their fathers-in-law.

5)    Both are eventually summoned back to their birthplaces by a prophetic vision.  God appears to Yaakov in a dream and orders him to return to Canaan, and God appears to Moshe in the burning bush to command his return to Egypt.

There is, however, one fundamental difference between the two episodes, one which is alluded to in the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 1:40):

“Va-yo’el Moshe” (“Moshe consented [to live with Yitro]” – 2:21) – he swore to him… Why did [Yitro] make him swear?  He said to him: I know that your forefather, Yaakov, when Lavan gave him his daughters, he took them and went off against his will.  Perhaps if I give you my daughter, you will do the same to me!  He immediately swore to him and he gave him Tzipora.

Yaakov’s stay with Lavan was, from the outset, temporary.  Before he left home, his mother explicitly told him, “I shall send and take you from there” (Bereishit 27:45), and God guaranteed Yaakov along the way to Charan that he would return home to Canaan (28:15).  Yaakov thus never intended to make Charan his permanent home.  Moshe, on the other hand, did not appear to harbor any hopes of returning to Egypt until God appeared to him in the burning bush.  There is no indication that he intended for his stay in Midyan to be a temporary one, as the Midrash emphasizes by relating Yitro’s insistence of making Moshe take an oath that he would remain in Midyan.

            This contrast between Moshe and Yaakov’s experiences underscores the drastic transition Moshe was called upon to make.  Unlike Yaakov, who knew all along that at some point he must take leave of Lavan, Moshe likely considered his current situation in Midyan as his final stop.  God’s command that he return to Egypt thus caught him off guard not only because he saw himself as a simple shepherd, and not a leader and savior, but also because he had made Midyan his permanent home.

            Indeed, life is not always predictable, and often we are called upon to make drastic changes and transitions and follow a route that we never anticipated.  The story of Moshe perhaps teaches that when we are summoned away from our current situation to undertake an important task, we must be prepared and willing, even if this entails switching onto an entirely different path than the one we had followed until then.

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            Numerous commentators have noted the Torah’s selectivity in describing events from Moshe’s pre-leadership life.  Though we can safely assume that prophecy requires an intensive process of spiritual near-perfection (as the Rambam famously emphasized), the Torah is silent about Moshe’s wisdom and personal piety that rendered him worthy of prophecy.  Instead, the Torah reveals only Moshe’s sensitivity and efforts on behalf of the oppressed. 

            A total of three incidents are told about Moshe before God’s revelation to him at the burning bush:

1)    His witnessing an Egyptian taskmaster beating a Hebrew slave, whereupon Moshe killed the taskmaster;

2)    His encounter with two quarreling slaves, during which he tried to intervene by reprimanding the instigator (“He said to the guilty one: Why do you beat your fellow” – 2:13);

3)    His arrival at the well in Midyan, when he rescues Yitro’s daughters from the shepherds who had chased them away from the well.

It is worth noting the two, diametrically opposite circumstances in which Moshe acts on these occasions.  In the first two episodes, Moshe is a prince of a powerful empire, with unlimited access to the comforts and luxuries of royal life.  The third encounter, by contrast, takes place when Moshe is a penniless fugitive running for his life in a foreign land.  These two situations exemplify – in the extreme – what might likely be the two most common causes for apathy toward the suffering of other people.  Some feel indifferent because they remain blissfully cloistered in their own lives of comfort and security.  Preoccupied with their lives of physical and material indulgence, they have no time, patience or concern for the plight of the underprivileged.  At the opposite extreme, people who are themselves struggling for survival are not very likely to show concern for their fellow sufferers.  They will utilize every bit of time, energy, thought and other resources into securing their own welfare, rather than looking out for the needs of other people.

Moshe demonstrated his compassion and empathy under both circumstances.  Both as a prince and a fugitive, he succeeded in looking and feeling outside his own “four cubits” and taking up the cause of the oppressed and downtrodden.  He allowed neither the comforts of royalty nor the torment of destitution to blind him to the suffering of other people.  At all stations of life, Moshe was attuned to the cries of those in pain.  Even under circumstances when one’s preoccupation with his own concerns would naturally dull his sensitivity to the plight of other people, Moshe’s sensitivity was never dulled.  He always cared, and was always ready to act to help those who needed him.

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            Yesterday, we noted the Torah’s selectivity in choosing which episodes from Moshe’s pre-leadership years to include in the Biblical narrative.  As we saw, the Torah omits the qualities of profound wisdom and piety that Moshe presumably possessed, as prerequisites for prophecy.  Instead, it tells of his sensitivity toward and intervention on behalf of the oppressed, as manifest in his rescuing a beaten Hebrew slave, stopping a slave from beating his fellow slave, and rescuing Yitro’s daughters from aggressive Midyanite shepherds.

            It appears that Chazal wanted to draw our attention to another important, and even more basic, quality that Moshe possessed and which rendered him worthy of prophecy and leadership.  The Torah introduces the story of the vision at the burning bush by describing Moshe’s work as a shepherd: “And Moshe was shepherding the sheep of Yitro his father-in-law, priest of Midyan.  He led the sheep across the wilderness and came to the Mount of God, to Choreiv” (3:1).  Rashi, citing the Midrash Tanchuma, comments, “Across the wilderness – to distance himself from theft; so that they would not graze in the fields of others.”  Chazal here suggest a reason why the Torah found it necessary to inform us that Moshe led the sheep “across the wilderness.”  According to the peshat (straightforward level of interpretation), the Torah seeks to explain how Moshe arrived at Choreiv – another name for Mount Sinai – which was apparently quite a distance from Yitro’s flocks in Midyan.  The Midrash, however, adds a deeper dimension to this verse, suggesting that it emphasizes Moshe’s impeccable integrity.  Though it was common for shepherds to allow their flocks to graze in whatever pasture they can find, Moshe made a point of bringing Yitro’s flocks to great distances, to the ownerless pastures of Sinai, in order to ensure that they would not graze in other people’s property.

            In light of the Midrash’s interpretation of this phrase, it is hard to ignore the connection that emerges between the two clauses of this verse: “He led the sheep across the wilderness, and came to the Mountain of God.”  Moshe took great pains to avoid having the sheep graze on stolen grass – and as a result found himself at “the Mountain of God.”  The journey to the “Mountain of God,” to spiritual greatness, begins with “to distance himself from theft,” with integrity and respect for the property of other people.  It obviously does not end there; without doubt, Moshe had achieved far greater things by this point than simply avoiding theft.  But this Midrash reminds us that the pursuit of greatness begins with the pursuit of goodness.  Moshe succeeded in rising to the highest levels of prophecy only after he mastered the basic, elementary values of honesty and ethical conduct.  One cannot take even a single step toward the “Mountain of God” unless he “leads the sheep across the desert” – unless he lives an ethical life.

            Thus, though at first it might seem peculiar for Chazal to find it necessary to point out that Moshe avoided theft, in truth, they convey a most critical message – that being a great person requires first being a good person.  Moshe could not have become the great prophet, teacher and leader he was unless he had taken those first steps by adhering to basic ethical norms – without which no quest for spiritual achievement can even begin.

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            The Torah in Parashat Shemot tells the famous story of Moshe’s encounter with an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave.  In response, we read, “He [Moshe] turned this way and that way, and saw there was no person; [so] he smote the Egyptian and buried him in the sand” (2:12).

            Netziv, in one of the more famous passages his Ha’amek Davar commentary, suggests a novel interpretation of this verse:

He turned this way and that way – he looked for ideas how to bring a complaint against the Egyptian who beat him [the slave] for no reason.  He saw there was no person before whom to report the wrongdoing, for they were all ‘as assembly of betrayers’ and haters of Israel.  He smote the Egyptian – in a place where there was no person, he himself made an effort to be the person.

According to Netziv, Moshe did not look around to see if there was anybody present who would witness his fatal beating of the Egyptian.  Apparently, this was not of any concern to Moshe.  Rather, Moshe looked to see if there was any governmental figure or body to whom he could appeal for help on behalf of the defenseless slave.  It was only upon realizing that no such person or institution existed, as the entire establishment in Egypt was united in its contempt of Benei Yisrael, that Moshe took matters into his own hands.  Netziv makes reference here to the famous comment of Hillel in Masekhet Avot (2:5), “In a place where there are no people, make an effort to be a person.”  According to the standard interpretation (see Rambam and Rabbeinu Yona for different approaches), this means that when a situation calls for action but nobody responds to that call, one should take this responsibility upon his shoulders.  Moshe, upon recognizing the absence of a “person” to defend the hapless slave, rose to the occasion and killed the Egyptian.

            Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha’kabbala, explains this verse somewhat differently, claiming that Moshe looked for intervention not on the part of the Egyptian authorities, but rather on the part of Benei Yisrael.  He looked around anticipating that one of the victim’s fellow slaves might come to his defense and protect him from the Egyptian.  What he found, however, was a slave nation mired in apathy borne out of despair.  After years of oppression and torment, during which untold numbers of slaves had endured the kind of beating suffered by this slave whom Moshe now encountered, Benei Yisrael paid no attention to the injustice and cruelty.  They had already resigned themselves to this life of suffering and discrimination, and no longer paid any attention or harbored any hopes of rescuing themselves or one another from the taskmaster’s whip.

            Moshe, however, refused to resign himself to this bitter reality.  His role as redeemer stemmed, in part, from this stubborn resolve and perseverance, and the resistance to the dangerous lure of despair.  Rather than accepting this situation of cruelty and persecution, Moshe insisted on doing his part to bring about change, and it was thus only natural that Benei Yisrael’s redemption would be led specifically by Moshe, who retained hope when others had surrendered to despair.

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            Among the interesting questions raised by the commentators concerning Parashat Shemot relates to the origin of the name “Moshe.”  The Torah tells that Pharaoh’s daughter, who discovered Moshe floating in the river and adopted him, gave him this name because “min ha-mayim meshitihu” – “I drew him from the water” (2:10).  It appears that the name “Moshe” evolves from the Hebrew word “meshitihu” (“I drew him”), or, more precisely, is a variation of the Hebrew word “mashui” – “drawn.”

            The obvious question arises as to why Pharaoh’s daughter was familiar with – let alone spoke – Hebrew.  Why would the Egyptian princess comment in Hebrew about the child she discovered?

            A number of different approaches have been taken by the commentators in addressing this question.

            Chizkuni initially suggests that Pharaoh’s daughter in fact spoke Hebrew.  He makes reference to a comment by Chazal that the princess had embraced the Israelite faith, and as part of this process she had begun speaking Hebrew.  Naturally, then, she indeed said, “min ha-mayim meshitihu” in reference to her adopted son.  The Chizkuni then proceeds to propose an entirely different reading of this verse, whereby it was Moshe’s mother, and not the princess, who named the boy “Moshe.”  While this theory may initially seem difficult to accept, it is actually grounded in a careful reading of this verse.  This verse immediately follows the verse which tells that the princess hired Moshe’s biological mother – Yokheved – to nurse the infant.  The Torah then tells, “The child grew up, and she [Yokheved] brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became his daughter; she named him ‘Moshe,’ and she said, ‘for I have drawn him from the water’.”  The phrase, “she named him ‘Moshe’” is then followed by a new subject and predicate – “and she said, ‘for I have drawn him from the water’.”  Chizkuni thus suggests that these two phrases refer to the comments of two different women.  Yokheved named the boy “Moshe,” whereupon Pharaoh’s daughter inquired as to the meaning of this term.  Yokheved then explained that Moshe relates to the Hebrew word for “draw,” and the princess noted the appropriateness of this name – for “I drew him from the water.”

            Ibn Ezra (Peirush Ha-arokh) suggests that “Moshe” may not have been the name given by Pharoah’s daughter.  A number of sources, as Ibn Ezra cites, indicate that Moshe’s name in Egyptian was “Moniyus,” which likely derived from the princess’ remarks made in Egyptian about drawing the infant from the water.  The name “Moshe” would thus be simply the Hebrew translation of Moshe’s Egyptian name.  Ibn Ezra then speculates that the princess either knew Hebrew or inquired into the Hebrew word for “drawing” in choosing a name for her Israelite-born adopted son.

            Malbim adopts a particularly interesting approach in explaining the etymology of the name “Moshe.”  He cites Philo and Josephus as identifying this name as the combination of two ancient Egyptian words that mean “water” and “pull.”  It thus emerges that the name “Moshe” reflects “drawing from water” in both Egyptian and Hebrew – which, Malbim asserts, is not at all coincidental.  God specifically wanted the redeemer of Israel to be raised as a prince, to develop the confidence and leadership skills the mission would require.  At the same time, of course, it was imperative that this leader genuinely identified with the nation, its struggles and its destiny.  God therefore saw to it that he would be raised as an Egyptian prince in Pharaoh’s palace, but would also bear a name that would serve as a constant reminder of his Israelite origins.  Thus, Providence arranged that Pharaoh’s daughter would choose a name that meant the same in Egyptian and Hebrew.  Pharaoh’s daughter named him “Moshe” as an Egyptian name, but, as it turned out, this name also served as his Hebrew name, thus ensuring that Moshe would retain his identity as an Israelite, even while being raised as a prince in Pharaoh’s palace.

            We read in Parashat Shemot the famous story of Moshe’s encounter with an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave, whereupon Moshe killed the Egyptian to rescue the beaten slave.  The Torah concludes this brief narrative by stating, “He buried him in the sand” (2:12).

            The Midrash (Shemot Rabba 1:31), cited by Rabbenu Bechayei, explains this verse to mean that Moshe also “buried” the Egyptian in the figurative sense, in that he attempted to conceal the matter among Benei Yisrael:

“He buried him in the sand”: Only Israelites were present, and he buried him in the presence of the Israelites, who are compared to sand.  He said to them, “You are compared to sand – just as sand is moved from one place to the other without making a sound, similarly, this matter shall be buried among you and not be heard.”

As only people from Benei Yisrael witnessed this incident, Moshe confidently expected that the news would spread no further.  He placed his trust in Benei Yisrael’s “sand-like” quality of reticence and discretion.  Just as sand does not make any sound as it moves, similarly, he anticipated that Benei Yisrael, the children of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, would resume their normal routine without allowing this incident to make any waves.  Moshe thus “buried” this matter among Benei Yisrael, whom he had assumed were responsible and disciplined enough to remain silent as sand about this affair, rather than endanger the life of one of their own.

            Unfortunately, of course, Moshe was wrong, and already the next day he discovered that news of his intervention had indeed spread.  Before he knew it, Moshe was a hapless fugitive fleeing for his life.

            The Midrash’s comments may shed light on another, more famous, passage in the Midrash, regarding Moshe’s response upon learning that news of the incident had been spreading: “Akhen noda ha-davar” – “Alas, the matter is known” (2:14).  As Rashi famously cites from the Midrash, Chazal detected within this response Moshe’s discovery of the reason underlying Benei Yisrael’s suffering: “I now know the matter about which I had been wondering: What sin did Israel commit, as opposed to all seventy nations, that they are subjugated with backbreaking labor?  But I see that they are worthy of this.”  Moshe felt terribly disappointed with his people.  He had trusted their sense of propriety and discretion, only to discover that they were gossipers.  This experience likely left him not only disillusioned, but also feeling betrayed by his own people, whom he had sincerely tried to help and in whom he had placed his trust.

            This sense of betrayal may have contributed to Moshe’s comments about Benei Yisrael later, as he spoke to God at the burning bush.  In expressing his refusal to return to Egypt and lead Benei Yisrael to freedom, Moshe (at one point) says to God, “But they will not believe me and will not listen to me…” (4:1).  The Gemara (Shabbat 97a) famously comments that Moshe here violated the prohibition of chosheid bi-ksheirim – groundlessly suspecting the innocent.  And the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 3:15) remarks, rather bluntly, “Ota sha’a diber Moshe she-lo ke-hogen” – “Moshe at that moment spoke improperly.”  Likewise, Chazal in several sources explain the two signs that God gives Moshe – his staff’s transformation into a snake, and his leprous hand – as expressing harsh criticism for Moshe’s improper speech about his people.  The snake is frequently used as the symbol of lashon ha-ra (negative speech about people), and leprosy, of course, is the classic punishment that would befall lashon ha-ra offenders.

            It would appear that Chazal detected in Moshe’s remark something more than a legitimate concern about the success of his mission, and even more than an attempt to excuse himself from this assignment.  Rather, Moshe here spoke with a degree of contempt and disdain for the people.  (This interpretation likely emerges from the word “ve-hein,” which might imply a sarcastic tone, something to the effect of, “But there’s no way they’ll listen to me!”)  God grew angry at Moshe for speaking disrespectfully about Am Yisrael, and expressed His disapproval by changing his staff into a snake and afflicting him with leprosy.

            Remarkably, Moshe was brought to task for talking negatively about the nation despite the betrayal and backstabbing he had experienced.  After intervening to assist a Hebrew slave, the people betrayed Moshe’s trust and let the news spread to the Egyptian authorities.  Moshe had good reason to feel embittered and resentful toward them, yet he was criticized for these negative feelings.  No one – and certainly no Jewish leader – is entitled to lose faith in or respect for Am Yisrael.  Though many have legitimate reasons to feel disillusioned or frustrated with certain aspects of the Jewish community, it is wrong to harbor negative sentiments toward the entire nation as a result.  Even Moshe, who was forced to flee his homeland as a result of the people’s betrayal, erred in looking upon them disdainfully.  Am Yisrael as a nation deserves the respect of all its members despite its mistakes and shortcomings, who must be committed to work to help the nation grow and improve, rather than remaining at the side and hurling criticism.