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PARASHAT SHEMOT

By Rav David Silverberg

            Parashat Shemot tells the story of God's famous revelation to Moshe in the form of a fire burning in a bush atop Mount Chorev (Sinai).  God's initial instruction to Moshe at the burning bush was to remove his shoes: "Remove your shoes from your feet, because the site upon which you stand is sacred ground" (3:5).  Similarly, in Sefer Yehoshua (5:15), we read of an angel that appeared to Yehoshua and likewise ordered him to remove his shoes in deference to the sanctity of the spot upon which he stood.  By the same token, the kohanim had to remain barefoot while performing the service in the Beit Ha-mikdash (even though much of the service was performed outdoors, and even during the cold winter months), presumably as an expression of the unique sanctity of the site.

            Rav Shraga Pollack, in his work Tishbi (Hungary, 1929), suggests a beautiful explanation for the underlying significance of this obligation, to remove one's shoes when treading on sacred ground.  A person wearing shoes can be less discretionary in choosing where he walks.  His feet safely protected by his sturdy shoes, he can tread wherever he wishes.  But when a person walks barefoot, not every surface is accessible to him.  He cannot walk freely, and must instead look in front of him very carefully before each step he takes, in order to protect his feet.

            This image, of maximum caution and discretion in choosing where to walk, very accurately describes the essence of kedusha.  A life of holiness means a life of careful discretion, of restraint, of thinking very carefully before reaching decisions and performing actions.  A person who lives a sacred life is not free to "walk" wherever he wishes; he must carefully assess every situation and accordingly decide upon the best course of action.  This is manifest very clearly in the Beit Ha-mikdash, where the many restrictions and specific guidelines necessitated a particularly high level of vigilance on the part of the officiating kohanim.  The Talmud comments on many occasions, "Kohanim zerizin heim" – the kohanim were – by necessity – very meticulous and careful in their work in the Mikdash, due to the rigorous demands of the Temple service.  This aura of vigilance characterizes a life of kedusha, which means exercising care before every step one takes.

            Outside the Mikdash, of course, one is permitted the wear shoes.  The Torah certainly does not impose the standards that apply in the Temple to daily life outside the sacred precincts of the Beit Ha-mikdash.  Nevertheless, we, too, are bidden, "Kedoshim tihyu," to apply the general concepts of kedusha, which are manifest in extreme fashion in the Temple, to our day-to-day life.  We, like the kohanim, must carefully watch our steps, and remember that not every mode of conduct is appropriate for the lives of kedusha that we are to live.

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            We read in Parashat Shemot of an enigmatic episode that occurred as Moshe made his way from Midyan to Egypt, to fulfill God's command to demand Pharaoh's release of the Hebrew slaves: "Along the road, in the inn, the Lord confronted him and sought to kill him.  Tzipora [Moshe's wife] took a knife and severed her son's foreskin…" (4:24-25).  What can be definitively ascertained from these verses is that God threatened to kill somebody, and Tzipora saved that person by circumcising her son.  All other information in this narrative remains unclear.

            The Gemara discusses this episode in Masekhet Nedarim (31b-32a) and cites debates on two central issues, the first of which being the identity of the intended victim.  Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Korcha and Rabbi Yossi (on 31b) seem to assume that God was ready to kill Moshe, whereas Rabban Shimon Ben Gamliel (32a) comments, "That angel sought to kill not Moshe Rabbenu, but rather that infant."  Meaning, God threatened to kill the uncircumcised infant, and Tzipora saved her son's life by performing the circumcision.

            The second issue under debate is what provoked God's anger.  Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Korcha remarked, "How significant is circumcision, for all the merits that Moshe had accrued were of no avail to him when he was lax with regard to circumcision."  According to Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Korcha, Moshe neglected to circumcise his newborn son at the proper time (presumably, on the eighth day), and was therefore threatened with punishment.  Rabbi Yossi, however, responded, "Heaven forbid that Moshe was lax with regard to circumcision!  Rather, this is what he said: If I circumcise [my son] and then leave [for Egypt], this will pose danger [for the infant, who will have to travel while recovering from this procedure].  If I circumcise and wait three days [for the baby to recover], the Almighty told me, 'Go, return to Egypt.'"  According to Rabbi Yossi, Moshe had good reason to delay his son's circumcision until his arrival in Egypt, due to the medical risk involved in an infant's traveling through the wilderness after circumcision.  Nevertheless, Rabbi Yossi explains, Moshe was punished "because he first occupied himself with his lodging."  As Rashi (in his commentary to the Gemara) explains, when Moshe arrived at an inn on the outskirts of Egypt, he first attended to his family's lodging needs, rather than immediately seeing to his son's circumcision.  God therefore threatened to punish Moshe, for his misplaced priorities in focusing his attention on arranging proper accommodations.  Rashi adopts this position in his commentary to the Torah.

            Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi, in his work on Rashi's commentary, raises an interesting question regarding Rabbi Yossi's position.  It emerges from Rabbi Yossi's explanation that Moshe was justified in delaying his son's circumcision until the family reached the outskirts of Egypt; Moshe's mistake was in preparing adequate lodging before performing the circumcision.  The reason for this exemption, as discussed, was the danger the journey would pose to the newly circumcised infant.  And Moshe could not delay his trip to allow his son time to recover because God gave him strict orders to immediately return to Egypt.  Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi questions whether Moshe was indeed entitled to delay circumcision out of concern for the risk to his son's life.  Chazal famously derive the provision of piku'ach nefesh, the suspension of Torah law (generally speaking) when it threatens human life, from the verse in Sefer Vayikra (18:5), "va-chai ba-hem," which implies that the mitzvot are for the purpose of living, and should not cause a person to die.  That Chazal extracted piku'ach nefesh from a Biblical verse seems to suggest that otherwise, one would indeed be required to surrender his life rather than violate the Torah.  Now since Moshe's journey to Egypt obviously occurred before Matan Torah, Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi reasons, the provision of va-chai ba-hem had yet to take effect.  Seemingly, then, Moshe was obligated to perform the mitzva of circumcision regardless of the life-threatening risks entailed.

            The Maharal, in his Gur Aryeh, ridicules Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi's question, calling it "incomprehensible" ("ein la-hem havana").  Even before Matan Torah, the Maharal contends, it was self understood that one need not (or even should not) risk his life in the performance of a mitzva.  The verse of "va-chai ba-hem" was necessary only after Matan Torah, when Benei Yisrael entered into a covenantal relationship with God that demanded their compliance with His many mitzvot.  One might have concluded that this covenant demanded obedience under any and all circumstances, even under the threat of death.  The Torah therefore clarified that the mitzvot were given "to live by them," and not "to die by them."  Before the Torah was given, however, it was abundantly clear that no mitzva should be performed at the expense of human life, and therefore there is no question that Moshe was justified in delaying his son's circumcision out of concern for his health during the difficult journey to Egypt.

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            Yesterday, we discussed the episode recorded in Parashat Shemot where, as Moshe and his family were on their way to Egypt, "the Lord confronted him and sought to kill him" (4:24).  We saw two views in the Gemara as to whether God sought to kill Moshe, or his newborn infant.  According to both, this threat was a punishment for Moshe's having improperly delayed his infant son's circumcision.  He – or the baby – was saved when Moshe's wife, Tzipora, circumcised the son (4:25).

            A slightly different understanding of this episode appears in the commentary of Rabbenu Chananel to Masekhet Yoma (85b).  Rabbenu Chananel writes that it was Tzipora, rather than Moshe, who had been negligent with regard to the boy's mila.  Rabbenu Chananel's position is cited more fully by Rabbenu Bechayei, in his commentary to Parashat Shemot.  As Rabbenu Bechayei documents, Rabbenu Chananel was of the view that Moshe sent his wife and children to Egypt first, and then made the trip alone later.  Thus, Tzipora was alone with her sons when this incident occurred, and therefore the threat to her son's life had to have resulted from her negligence with regard to the newborn's circumcision.  This explains why, as the Torah tells, it was Tzipora, rather than Moshe, who performed the circumcision: Moshe was not present when all this took place, and therefore it was left to Tzipora to circumcise the infant.

            Among the questions that arise concerning Rabbenu Chananel's theory is whether it has a Talmudic source.  As we mentioned yesterday, the Gemara's discussion in Masekhet Nedarim presumes Moshe's accountability in this affair.  The Tanna'im disagree as to whether Moshe was simply negligent or if he merely tended to the family's lodging needs before circumcising his son, but both views seem to agree that Moshe was present and responsible for the mila.  Rabbenu Chananel's comments thus appear to run in opposition to both these views.

            Rav Menachem Kasher, in Torah Sheleima (Parashat Shemot, chapter 4, note 151), suggests that Rabbenu Chananel's theory has its source in Masekhet Avoda Zara (27a), where the Gemara assesses the halakhic propriety of a circumcision performed by a woman.  The Gemara attempts to draw proof from Tzipora's circumcision of her son, which would suggest that a circumcision performed by a woman is perfectly acceptable.  The Gemara then refutes this proof by raising two possible, alternative readings of this verse.  First, the verse may be interpreted to mean that Tzipora commissioned somebody else to perform the circumcision, rather than performing it herself.  Secondly, the Gemara suggests, Tzipora perhaps only began the act of circumcision, and then had Moshe complete the mila.  Rav Kasher notes that these two views seem to take different positions on the issue of whether Moshe was present at this episode.  The first opinion, which suggests that Tzipora summoned somebody to circumcise her son, presumably held – as did Rabbenu Chananel – that Moshe was not present.  This Gemara, then, very likely serves as the Talmudic source for Rabbenu Chananel's otherwise revolutionary theory, that it was Tzipora, rather than Moshe, who bore responsibility for her son's circumcision.

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            Yesterday, we discussed the position taken by Rabbenu Chananel, in his commentary to Masekhet Yoma (85b), concerning the episode recorded in Parashat Shemot (4:24-26) where God threatened to kill either Moshe or his son.  (As we mentioned, the Gemara in Masekhet Nedarim cites two views as to whether God threatened to kill Moshe or his newborn infant.)  According to Rabbenu Chananel, Moshe was not present at all when this occurred, and God's anger was directed towards his wife, Tzipora, who neglected to circumcise her son.  As the Torah records, Tzipora immediately understood why God wanted to kill her son and proceeded to perform the circumcision.

            Rabbenu Chananel's explanation is remarkable in that it presumes a degree of responsibility on Tzipora's part towards her son's circumcision.  At first glance, this runs in direct opposition to the Gemara's explicit comment in Masekhet Kiddushin (29a) that the obligation to circumcise a child is cast upon the father, and not the mother.  If so, why would God seek to punish Tzipora for her negligence in this regard, if she bore no halakhic obligation with respect to her son's berit mila?

            The obvious answer, as developed by Rav Asher Weiss in his Minchat Asher, involves the halakha mentioned in that same Gemara in Masekhet Kiddushin, casting the obligation of mila upon the local Beit Din (rabbinical court) if the father failed to perform the circumcision.  In situations where the father is either absent or deceased, or if for whatever reason he neglected to circumcise his son, the obligation is transferred onto the Beit Din.  Rav Asher cites several sources (the Ba'al Hafla'a in Sefer Ha-makneh to Kiddushin and in Panim Yafot to Parashat Lekh-Lekha; Dagul Me'revava; Rambam's commentary to the Mishna, Shabbat, end of chapter 19) as explaining this halakha to mean that all Am Yisrael bears the collective obligation to circumcise this child.  The members of the Beit Din do not bear a personal obligation towards the child's mila, but rather they are the ones invested with the power and authority to ensure that the circumcision is performed.  It stands to reason that the direct obligation is cast upon the ones closest to the infant, which, in most cases of an absent or neglectful father, would be the mother.

            Hence, although the primary obligation is indeed cast specifically upon a child's father, in his absence, the secondary obligation takes effect and falls upon the entirety of the Jewish people.  Practically speaking, the person closest to the infant – which is generally the mother – would bear the personal obligation to tend to boy's circumcision.  Understandably, then, Rabbenu Chananel, who held that Moshe was not present at the time when his son became eligible for a berit mila, held Tzipora personally accountable for her child's mila.

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            Over the last several days we have discussed the verses in Parashat Shemot (4:24-26) which tell that God threatened to kill either Moshe or his newborn son (a question subject to a debate in Masekhet Nedarim 31b-32a) because of his – or his wife's – negligence with regard to the infant's berit mila.  The Torah writes that as Moshe and/or his family lodged in an inn near Egypt, "Va-yifgeshehu Hashem va-yevakesh hamito" – "the Lord confronted him and wanted to kill him" (4:24).

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary, discusses the striking use of the word ve-yevakesh ("wanted") in this context.  As Rav Hirsch writes, "God does not wish the death of any man, and he whom God wishes to kill is dead."  God does not "wish" to kill; when He determines that a man should die, He kills him.  Rav Hirsch therefore suggests a novel definition of the word va-yevakesh in this verse, translating it as "and he preferred."  The Torah here informs us that God preferred to let Moshe die rather than allow him to continue along his journey and carry out his assigned mission in Egypt with an uncircumcised son.  And, in Rav Hirsch's view, this is precisely the message the Torah seeks to convey through this narrative: "But taken this way (He prefers), this word tells us the important fact that God's plans are dependent on no man… No man – not even Moses – is indispensable to God."  (Of course, Rav Hirsch here follows the view that it was Moshe whom God sought to kill.)

            This reminder is necessary, Rav Hirsch adds, in light of the previous section, which tells of God's insistence that Moshe assume the mantle of leadership and demand Benei Yisrael's freedom.  One might have erroneously concluded that Benei Yisrael's redemption depended absolutely on the efforts of this one man, and that without him, the enterprise of Yetzi'at Mitzrayim could never have been undertaken.  To preclude this misconception, the Torah informs us that God would have preferred that Moshe die on his way to Egypt before ever confronting Pharaoh, rather than lead Benei Yisrael with an uncircumcised child.  God's plan to redeem His nation would have been realized through some other agent, and did not hinge on Moshe's involvement or existence.

            Rav Hirsch returns to this theme elsewhere in his writings, in his commentary to Parashat Eikev (introduction to Devarim 9:7):

Altogether no nation, no community, no individual, however important their mission might be for God's Work on earth, can imagine that they are indispensable for God's Work on earth, and in that conceit, give themselves over to sin… The government of God goes on to achieve its goal passing over the destruction of any contemporary generation of the nation and any contemporary members of the nation, however great they may be.

In this vein Rav Hirsch understands Moshe's reference to the death of his brother Aharon amidst his review of Benei Yisrael's travels (Devarim 10:6-7).  Moshe wished to emphasize that despite the loss of a prominent, influential and beloved leader, the nation continued traveling.  As Rav Hirsch writes:

Israel journeys on.  The destiny of Israel and the mission of Israel is not dependent on any man, however great and indispensable he may seem.  Unchecked by Aaron's death the people move on to their future.  Aaron departs from their midst and dies on the height of the mountain, his son takes his place in the nation and the people journey on towards their destined national calling.

Am Yisrael's mission and destiny do not depend on any single individual, and thus God was prepared to kill Moshe for neglecting his son's circumcision, and bring about Israel's redemption through another leader.

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            Towards the beginning of Parashat Shemot the Torah tells of Pharaoh's alarm at Benei Yisrael's remarkable birthrate.  He tells his nation, "Let us deal wisely with them, lest they increase, and when a war takes place they, too, will join our enemies and fight against us" (1:10).

            This verse is cited in the Pesach Haggadah, though the precise intent of the Haggadah is not entirely clear.  The main body of the Maggid section of the Haggadah goes through the verses in Sefer Devarim (26:5-8) that dictate the mikra bikkurim, the annual proclamation recited by a farmer after harvesting his first fruits, in which he recalls the events of the Exodus.  The Haggadah studies each phrase of mikra bikkurim, and associates it with a verse from the original account of the Exodus in Sefer Shemot.  When it comes to the phrase in mikra bikkurim, "Va-yarei'u otanu ha-Mitzrim" ("The Egyptians acted wrongly towards us"), the Haggadah cites the aforementioned verse in Parashat Shemot, "Let us deal wisely with them…"  Many commentators on the Haggadah wondered why specifically this verse – "Let us deal wisely with them…" – most accurately expresses the Egyptians' "acting wrongly" towards us as mentioned in mikra bikkurim.  Other verses here in Parashat Shemot describe in detail the abusive treatment that Benei Yisrael suffered at the hands of the Egyptians.  Why does Pharaoh's comment, "Let us deal wisely with them" exemplify – more than any other verse in this parasha – the theme of, "The Egyptians acted wrongly towards us"?

            Many writers, including the Tosafists (in Hadar Zekeinim here in Parashat Shemot) and the commentaries to the Haggadah of the Kol Bo, Tashbetz and Abarbanel, explain that the phrase "va-yarei'u otanu" means not, "acted wrongly towards us," but rather, "made us out to be evil."  This phrase expresses the fact that the Egyptians viewed us with baseless suspicion and undeserved contempt, and portrayed the loyal Israelite citizens as conspiring villains.  Quite understandably, the verse in Sefer Shemot that best exemplifies this attitude is that of "Let us deal wisely with them," where Pharaoh voices his unfounded concerns that Benei Yisrael might betray the Egyptians and wage war against the empire.

            Rav Menachem Kasher, in his Torah Sheleima (Shemot, chapter 1, note 103), suggests two other possible interpretations to this passage in the Haggadah.  First, several Midrashim speak of the devious tactics Pharaoh employed in enslaving Benei Yisrael.  As the Ramban (1:10) explains, Pharaoh could not openly launch a campaign of oppression and discrimination against Benei Yisrael, who, after all, came to Egypt at the command of the king's predecessor.  He therefore undertook these measures gradually and less conspicuously.  The Midrashim describe how Benei Yisrael were misled into thinking that a single day of work was necessary for them to earn the favor of the Egyptian government, and eventually they were forced into servitude.  Another Midrashic source tells that Pharaoh at first offered financial incentives to those who would work, and when enough people from Benei Yisrael joined the ranks of labor, the service became mandatory.  In this vein the Midrashim (and the Ramban) understand Pharaoh's comment, "Let us deal wisely with them."  Pharaoh here tells his subjects that they must devise a clever plan to enslave Benei Yisrael in an effective manner without provoking resistance.

            It is perhaps to this type of duplicitous treatment of Benei Yisrael that the verse refers when it speaks of the Egyptians "acting wrongly towards Benei Yisrael."  The Torah there describes not the actual abuse and subjugation, but the devious means by which Pharaoh enslaved Benei Yisrael.  Hence, the Haggadah finds a source for this notion in the verse, "Let us deal wisely with them," which expresses the deceit that Pharaoh employed in designating a class of slaves.

            Furthermore, Rav Kasher suggests, the Haggadah's association between these two verses might be understood in light of the Rambam's famous theory concerning the "hardening" of Pharaoh's heart.  Later in Parashat Shemot (4:21), and numerous times throughout the story of the Exodus, we read that God "hardened" Pharaoh's heart, which appears to mean that He interfered with Pharaoh's mental or emotional faculties to prevent him from deciding upon the release of Benei Yisrael.  In order to reconcile this notion with the fundamental doctrine of bechira chofshit (human free will), the Rambam (Hilkhot Teshuva 6:3; Shemona Perakim, chapter 8) establishes that at times a compulsive sinner, or one who committed a particularly grievous sin, may be punished with the loss of free will.  God will occasionally punish a violator by denying him the capacity to improve.  Pharaoh's crimes against Benei Yisrael were of such gravity, the Rambam writes, that God dealt him the ultimate punishment: the inability to change course.

            Accordingly, Rav Kasher suggests, the Haggadah perhaps felt that only the narrative of Pharaoh's initial crimes against Benei Yisrael accommodated the description of the Egyptians "acting wrongly" towards them.  Subsequent wrongs were committed after they had been denied bechira chofshit, and thus, technically speaking, they could not be blamed for those crimes.  Therefore, in searching for the textual source in Shemot for the verse in Devarim, "The Egyptians acted wrongly towards us," the Haggadah had no choice but to select a verse that told of Pharaoh's initial campaign of hostility against Benei Yisrael.

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            The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (9a) tells the famous story of the Targum Ha-shiv'im (Septuagint), the Greek translation of the Torah ordered by King Ptolemy.  Seventy Jewish scholars were summoned by the king to translate the Hebrew text, and each was placed in his own chamber to ensure that they would not collaborate on the matter.  Miraculously, the Gemara tells, all seventy were similarly inspired to deviate from the straightforward translation of several verses, whose actual meaning might be incriminating from the perspective of the enemies of the Jewish faith who sought to undermine its legitimacy.  One of these verses is from Parashat Shemot (4:20), where the Torah tells that Moshe, upon returning to Egypt from Midyan, placed his wife and children "al ha-chamor," on the donkey.  The Septuagint translators, in their rendition, wrote "on the carrier of people," rather than "on the donkey."

            Why were the translators concerned of having the word chamor in this verse translated literally, as "donkey"?

            Rashi and Tosefot explain that the gentile critics might challenge the Jews by asking, "Did your teacher Moshe not have a horse or camel?"  Donkeys were considered a less dignified means of transportation, and therefore it would appear odd to the outsider that Moshe, the Jewish prophet, had to ride a donkey.

            For us, of course, it is hardly surprising that Moshe traveled to Egypt by donkey.  Our leaders are characterized by their humility and sincere devotion to the people, rather than their wealth or outward appearance of nobility.
            Ibn Ezra suggests a slightly different explanation for the necessity of the deviation, claiming that it might seem improper for Moshe to have his wife ride a donkey with her two children.

            Rav Menachem Kasher (Torah Sheleima, Shemot, chapter 4, note 105) and Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky (Emet Le-Ya'akov) bring a different reason for this change in the translation, from the historical writings of Josephus.  Many nations in the ancient world looked to donkeys as a sort of god-like figure, and Benei Yisrael were occasionally suspected of subscribing to this belief.  In fact, during the time of the Temple, rumors spread among other peoples that Benei Yisrael kept a graven image of a donkey inside the kodesh ha-kodashim (innermost sanctum of the Temple).  The scholars of the Septuagint therefore found it necessary to dispel any possible basis for this rumor, including this verse, which tells of Moshe's journey to Egypt on a donkey.  This verse might have been misconstrued as the source for Jewish donkey-worship, as it was a donkey that transported Moshe and his family to Egypt to free Benei Yisrael from slavery.

            It should be noted that the disseminators of this accusation could have attempted to draw "evidence" for the allegation from a different verse, in Sefer Bereishit.  The Torah tells that when Yosef's brothers returned to Egypt with Binyamin, they were brought to Yosef's home, which initially suggested to them that they would be accused of spying.  They express their fears that both they and their donkeys would be seized by the Egyptian authorities (Bereishit 43:18).  Several Midrashim and commentators already note the peculiarity of the brothers' concern of their donkeys' possible confiscation.  If they are being taken as slaves, should they be so troubled by the loss of their donkeys?  Several answers have been given; Rabbenu Bechayei, for example, suggests that if they were taken as slaves, they could at least send their donkeys back to Canaan to bring food for their families.  In any event, challengers of Judaism could, seemingly, have enlisted this verse as support for their ludicrous theory that Benei Yisrael worshipped donkeys.  They could have explained that the brothers looked to their donkeys as sacred religious articles, and thus bemoaned the potential loss of these objects of sanctity.  Yet, the sages of the Septuagint did not alter the translation of that verse in their Greek rendition of the Bible.

            We leave it to the reader to determine why the straightforward translation of the verse in Bereishit did not concern the Septuagint translators, while the narrative in Parashat Shemot did.