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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT VAERA

By Rav David Silverberg

            Towards the beginning of Parashat Vaera, we read that God tells Moshe, "I appeared to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov as Kel Sha-ddai, but I did not make My Name Ado-nai known to them" (6:2).  According to the Ramban, God refers here to the distinction between His natural and supernatural manifestations in the world.  God appeared to the patriarchs "with the force of My hand with which I manipulate the constellations and give assistance to My beloved ones."  Meaning, he showed Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov only how He exerts control over the natural order in such a manner that the righteous are rewarded.  He did not, however, demonstrate to them the aspect of Shem Havaya, whereby He overturns and disrupts the natural order, as expressed through supernatural miracles.  God tells Moshe to inform Benei Yisrael that they, unlike their patriarchs, can anticipate bearing witness to supernatural manifestations of God's power, through which He will overthrow the Egyptian empire and lead Israel to freedom.

            Rav Yaakov Kopel Schwartz, in his Yekev Efrayim (a work on the Ramban's Torah commentary), questions the Ramban's explanation in light of two instances of supernatural intervention in the lives of the patriarchs: Sara's conception and childbirth at age ninety, and Avraham's miraculous escape from the furnace of Ur Kasdim.  In light of these miracles, how could the Ramban claim that God never expressed Himself in supernatural fashion to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov?

            The answer, as Rav Schwartz notes, emerges naturally from the Ramban's comments elsewhere concerning these miracles.  In his commentary to Parashat Vayigash (Bereishit 46:15), the Ramban argues that childbirth at an advanced age did not, at least in ancient times, constitute a reversal of nature.  He advances this argument in response to Ibn Ezra's ridicule of Chazal's claim that Yokheved, Moshe's mother, was born at the time when Yaakov and his children migrated to Egypt.  As Ibn Ezra notes, Yokheved's birth at that time requires that she begot Moshe at the age of one hundred and thirty (as Moshe was eighty years old at the time of the Exodus, two hundred and ten years after Benei Yisrael's arrival in Egypt).  Why, Ibn Ezra asked, would the Torah emphasize the miraculous nature of Yitzchak's birth to a ninety-year-old woman, but make no mention of Yokheved's conception at age one hundred and thirty?  The Ramban responds that childbirth at an advanced age falls under the category of neis nistar, a "concealed miracle," an unusual occurrence that does not involve the reversal of any natural laws.  Sara's conception was exceptional, he adds, only because she had not conceived for so many years and then suddenly bore a child at an advanced age.  But even this "miracle" did not signify the reversal of the laws of nature, and was rather an unusual event that occurred within the natural order.

            And as for Avraham's escape from the furnace of Ur Kasdim, the Ramban briefly discusses this event in his commentary to Parashat Noach (11:28).  There he mentions the tradition that Avraham miraculously emerged unscathed from the fire, but he also adds the possibility that the "miracle" was not his body's resistance to fire, but rather a sudden change of heart on the part of the king, who, at the last minute, released Avraham from prison.  The Ramban returns to this issue later in his commentary to Bereishit (34:13), where he speaks of the miracle of Ur Kasdim as a neis nistar, indicating that this second view is the one he held to be more correct.  This position is thus consistent with his comments here in Parashat Vaera, where he asserts that God did not perform any supernatural miracles for the patriarchs, and expressed to them His dominion and control over the earth only through the manipulation of the natural forces, but not through their reversal.

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            We read in Parashat Vaera that before the plague of hail, some Egyptians heeded Moshe's warning and brought their belongings indoors: "The one who feared the word of the Lord from among Pharaoh's subjects brought his servants and cattle to safety inside the homes" (9:20).  The question arises as to whether this protective measure in anticipation of the plague of hail truly rendered these Egyptians worthy of the description, yarei et devar Hashem – "fearing the word of God."  Moshe had already accurately predicted four previous plagues (blood, frogs, wild beasts, pestilence), and brought about two others (vermin, boils) without warning.  Did it require a sense of true yir'at Shamayim – fear of God – to take precautions after Moshe's warning about hail?

            Rav Shimon Moshe Diskin, in his work Mas'at Moshe, suggests a creative explanation of this verse in light of a comment by the Brisker Rav ("Reb Velvele") regarding the plague of hail.  God tells Moshe, "there shall be hail throughout the land of Egypt: upon the people, upon the animals, and upon all vegetation in the fields in the land of Egypt" (9:22).  Why, the Brisker Rav asked, did God specify the people, animals and vegetation, once He had already declared that the hail would descend "throughout the land of Egypt"?  To answer this question, the Brisker Rav suggested that the hail in Egypt fell only upon people, animals and vegetation; no hail fell on any buildings, and therefore Egyptians could find shelter even in rundown structures that would not ordinarily protect their inhabitants from the elements.  Since no hail fell on buildings, the Egyptians could save themselves by entering any kind of structure – even one that was not strong enough to offer protection from a devastating hailstorm.

            On this basis, Rav Diskin suggests, we could perhaps explain the level of yir'at Shamayim exhibited by those Egyptians who brought their servants and cattle indoors before the hailstorm.  It stands to reason that most – or all – Egyptians did not have enough space in their homes for all their servants and cattle.  Presumably, those who heeded Moshe's warning were compelled to construct makeshift shelters.  Time did not allow for the construction of proper, weatherproof facilities, and so they built improvised structures that sufficed to ensure that, as Moshe had promised, hail would not fall on those areas.

            This, indeed, reflected a degree of yir'at Hashem, in that they trusted Moshe's prediction that they and their belongings would be safe even in flimsy, makeshift structures.

            One might suggest a simpler explanation in light of the subsequent verse, which contrasts those who "feared the word of the Lord" and the others: "And he who paid no heed to the word of the Lord left his servants and cattle in the field" (9:21).  The Torah thus describes two groups of Egyptians: those who "feared the word of the Lord," and those who "paid no heed to the word of the Lord."  In light of this contrast, we may claim that "feared the word of the Lord" does not necessarily refer to an exalted, saintly level of yir'at Shamayim.  It means simply that these Egyptians paid attention, they approached Moshe's warning seriously.  As opposed to the others, who blissfully ignored Moshe's warnings and basked in their false sense of security, the first group paid attention and took the necessary precautions.

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            Ibn Ezra, in his Peirush Ha-arokh (Shemot 7:24), claims that the first three plagues that God visited upon Egypt – blood, frogs and vermin – affected Benei Yisrael, as well.  He notes that the Torah makes no reference to a distinction between the experiences of Benei Yisrael and the Egyptians during the ten plagues until Moshe's warning of the fourth plague, wild beasts (8:18).  Thus, Ibn Ezra contends, the first three plagues affected both the Egyptians and the Hebrew slaves.

            The Radbaz, in one of his responsa (813), addresses Ibn Ezra's theory and writes that "it is forbidden" for one to believe such a notion.  He cites a number of verses that appear to indicate that the plagues of blood and frogs indeed affected only the Egyptians: "Egypt was unable to drink water from the river" (7:21); "All Egypt dug around the river to drink water" (7:24); "the frogs will ascend upon you [Pharaoh], your people and all your subjects" (7:29); "the frogs shall be removed from you [Pharaoh] and from your home, from your subjects and from your people" (8:7).  And although no such indication can be found in the Torah's discussion of the plague of vermin, nevertheless, the Radbaz claims, "yilamed satum min ha-meforash" – that which is not stated explicitly may be inferred from that which is mentioned explicitly.  Meaning, if all the other plagues were visited upon only the Egyptians, then it stands to reason that this was the case with regard to the vermin, as well.

            A third view appears in the commentary of the Ritva to the Haggada, where the Ritva indeed distinguishes between the plague of vermin and the other nine plagues.  The Ritva records an oral tradition that Benei Yisrael were struck by vermin in Egypt, but the vermin did not cause them discomfort, as it did the Egyptians.  On the basis of this theory the Ritva explains an otherwise perplexing verse concerning Pharaoh's response to the plague of vermin: "The magicians said to Pharaoh, 'It [the plague of vermin] is the finger of God'; Pharoah's heart was hardened…" (8:15).  Why did the magicians' recognition of this plague as a manifestation of divine power cause Pharaoh's heart to continue being "hardened"?  According to the Ritva, the magicians saw that this plague affected Hebrew and Egyptian alike, without realizing that it did not cause Benei Yisrael discomfort.  They therefore concluded that this plague was simply a "finger of God," a natural epidemic, and not a plague brought about by Moshe and Aharon.  Hence, Pharaoh continued to harden his heart.

            The Ritva's theory is cited by the Rambam, as well, in his commentary to Masekhet Avot (5:4).

            A number of writers, including Rav Shimon Schwab (in his Ma'ayan Beit Ha-sho'eiva), cite as a possible source for this tradition a comment by the Midrash that Rashi cites in his commentary to Parashat Vayechi (Bereishit 47:29).  According to the Midrash, Yaakov asked that his remains be brought out of Egypt because he foresaw the onslaught of vermin that would overtake the earth of the land of Egypt.  In order to spare himself the effects of the vermin in the Egyptian earth, he asked his sons to bring him to burial in Canaan.  Presumably, had Yaakov been buried in Egypt, he would have been buried in the region of Goshen, where Benei Yisrael resided.  It thus appears that even the Israelite residences were affected by the plague of vermin, in accordance with the tradition cited by the Rambam and the Ritva.

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            In the opening section of Parashat Vaera, God bids Moshe convey to Benei Yisrael what has become famously known as the arba leshonot shel ge'ula, the four "expressions of redemption": "I shall release them from under the sufferings of Egypt, and I shall save them from their labor; and I shall redeem them with an outstretched arm and with great judgments.  And I shall take them for Me as a people…" (6:6-7).  Unfortunately, however, as the Torah later tells, Benei Yisrael found no comfort or encouragement in Moshe's promises: "Moshe spoke thus to the Israelites, but they did not listen to Moshe, out of shortness of spirit and hard work" (6:9).  Overwhelmed and overburdened by Pharaoh's recent decrees that they must themselves collect their own straw for the production of bricks, and stung by the disappointment of Moshe's failed petition to the Egyptian king, Benei Yisrael could no longer look to Moshe as a source of hope for a brighter future.

            Immediately thereafter, the Torah tells that God spoke once again to Moshe and Aharon, "and He commanded them with respect to the Israelites and Pharaoh, king of Egypt, to release the Israelites from Egypt" (6:13).  Many different interpretations have been offered to explain what precisely this "command" entailed, and how it responded to Benei Yisrael's inability or unwillingness to pay heed to Moshe's previous reassurances.  Rav Dov Weinberger, in his Shemen Ha-tov, explains that God here instructs Moshe to return to Benei Yisrael, but to bring them only the first of the four "expressions of redemption."  The slaves were unable to listen to Moshe's grand promises of spiritual redemption, becoming God's nation and leaving Egypt for their ancestral homeland, but they could at very least accept the first, basic promise, "I shall release them from under the sufferings of Egypt."  The harsh realities of their current crisis did not allow them to harbor the lofty aspirations expressed by all the leshonot shel ge'ula, but they still longed for the release of their yoke and the end of back-breaking slave labor.  God therefore sent Moshe back to Benei Yisrael to present to them the more modest, limited promise of ve-hotzeiti, to guarantee them that their current period of suffering would soon come to an end.

            In further developing this approach, Rav Weinberger proceeds to suggest an insightful explanation for our commemoration of the arba leshonot shel ge'ula each year on Pesach.  Though several reasons have been given for the requirement to drink four cups of wine at the seder, the most common reason is to mark or celebrate the four expressions with which Moshe brought to the people the promise of freedom.  Of what particular significance are these four expressions that renders them worthy of annual commemoration, particularly in light of Benei Yisrael's rejection of these promises?  Rav Weinberger explains that we commemorate the arba leshonot shel ge'ula specifically to show that they were not uttered in vain, even if at the time Benei Yisrael could accept only the first of the four promises.  The themes of redemption embodied by these four promises bear relevance for all future exiles that Benei Yisrael would endure.  By bringing to mind these promises even during our current exile, we declare our acceptance of these promises that our ancestors were unable to accept.  We affirm our anticipation of the time when we will achieve not only ve-hotzeiti – physical freedom from oppression and foreign rule – but also the higher, loftier goals of national redemption, where we achieve complete spiritual freedom and return to the land and stature of our patriarchs.

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            A famous passage in Masekhet Pesachim (53b) tells that Chananya, Mishael and Azarya, three Jews who were prepared to surrender their lives rather than follow Nevukhadnetzar's order to bow to a statue, took example in this regard from the frogs in Egypt.  The Torah writes in Parashat Vaera (7:28) that during the plague of frogs, the frogs leaped even into the Egyptians' ovens, surrendering their lives for the sake of fulfilling the divine command, as it were.  When Nevukhadnetzar ordered his servants to bow to a statue, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya made the following deduction: "If the frogs, which are not commanded with regard to kiddush Hashem [sanctifying the Name of God], it says about them, 'they will ascend and enter your home, your ovens and your storehouses'…we, who are commanded with regard to kiddush Hashem, all the more so."  These three heroes refused Nevukhadnetzar's order, and were miraculously saved from the fiery furnace to which he had them cast as punishment for their defiance.

            Many questions have been raised concerning this passage throughout the ages.  Among the more peripheral issues, perhaps, is the question of why these men assumed that the frogs were not commanded to surrender their lives for the sake of God.  After all, God explicitly tells Moshe that the frogs will jump into the Egyptians' ovens, which may be understood as a "command" of sorts that they give their lives as part of this plague.  Why, then, did Chananya, Mishael and Azarya speak of the frogs as voluntarily surrendering their lives by leaping into the ovens of Egypt?

            It is told that the Vilna Gaon answered this question as a seven-year-old child, noting that no command was issued to any particular frog that it should jump into an oven.  God had commanded the frogs to leap into a wide range of areas, including beds, personal chambers and warehouses.  The frogs that chose to jump into the ovens did so despite not having been directly commanded to surrender their lives; they could have easily insisted on leaving this self-sacrificing task to other frogs.  In this sense, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were correct in their assessment, that the frogs leaped into the ovens despite not having been commanded to do so.

            Rav Eliyahu Baruch Shulman (www.yutorah.org/showShiur.cfm?shiurID=706182) suggested that this point can be used to resolve as well some of the more difficult questions that have been raised regarding this Talmudic passage.  Most famously, many writers (beginning with Tosefot there in Pesachim) addressed the question of why these three men needed to learn from the frogs' example.  The obligation to refrain from idolatry even at the threat of death is well-known and well-established.  If Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were unsure whether they should surrender their lives, they should have consulted with the halakhic authorities of the time.  Why did they look to the frogs for guidance in this regard?  Rav Shulman explained that these three men learned from the frogs of Egypt the lesson of taking personal responsibility regardless of what the others are doing.  The Jews in the Babylonian exile had, to a large extent, lost there sense of selfless devotion to their traditions and beliefs.  Throughout the empire, Jewish communities had already fallen prey to the influences of the host culture and participated in Babylonian pagan rites.  Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were well aware of the halakha requiring martyrdom to avoid bowing to an idol, but they struggled with a different question: "Why only us?"  If the other Jews had already succumbed to pressure, if everybody else had chosen the more convenient route of assimilation, why must only they make the ultimate sacrifice and refuse the order?

            In answering this question, they took example from the frogs of Egypt.  Even though the majority of the frogs sent to afflict the Egyptians chose the easier tasks, there were those who took upon themselves the personal responsibility to leap into the fiery furnaces.  Chananya, Mishael and Azarya thus likewise rose to the challenge and defied the emperor's order, overlooking the fact that the rest of their people had failed to resist this pressure.

            The obvious lesson, then, of these two incidents – the plague of frogs and the heroism of Chananya, Mishael and Azarya – is the importance of showing devotion and loyalty to God even when – or perhaps especially when – the vast majority of Jews no longer show such devotion and loyalty.

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            In response to Pharaoh's plea that he bring an end to the devastating hail, Moshe says to the Egyptian monarch, "When I leave the city I shall spread my hands out towards the Lord; the sounds shall cease and the hail shall be no more…" (9:29).  Rashi famously comments (based on the Midrash) that Moshe could not pray until he "left the city" because of the presence of idolatrous articles in the city.  Only upon leaving the presence of pagan deities could Moshe petition God to bring an end to the plague of hail.

            The question immediately arises as to why this concern does not appear to arise during the earlier six plagues.  Never before did Moshe seem to find it necessary to leave the city before praying to God; certainly the Torah gives no indication to this effect until the plague of hail.  Why suddenly in this situation was it necessary for Moshe to leave the city before praying?

            The Da'at Zekeinim Mi-Ba'alei Ha-Tosefot answer that only during the plague of hail did some Egyptians bring their deity – their sheep – into the city.  The Torah had earlier (9:20) told that there were Egyptians who heeded Moshe's warning about the impending hailstorm and brought their servants and animals indoors.  As we know from an earlier verse (8:22; see Rashi), the Egyptians of the time worshipped sheep, and thus during the plague of hail idolatrous objects were present inside the city.  Whereas normally the sheep were left in the fields outside the city, in this instance, many sheep were within the city walls, forcing Moshe to leave the city boundaries before beseeching God.

            Thus, according to the Da'at Zekeinim, Moshe was forbidden to pray inside the city because of the presence of sheep, which were worshipped by the ancient pagans of Egypt.

            This approach gives rise to the question of the halakhic status of worshipped animals.  The Gemara in Masekhet Temura (29a) establishes that an animal that is worshipped as a deity does not obtain the status of issur hana'a – objects from which one may not derive benefit.  Whereas other articles indeed become forbidden as a result of being worshipped, an animal remains permissible even if somebody worships it.  The animal may not be offered as a sacrifice to God, but it does not obtain the status of avoda zara with respect to the prohibition of deriving benefit.  Seemingly, one might argue, if an animal cannot obtain the status of avoda zara, there should no reason for Moshe not to pray to God in the presence of the Egyptians' cattle.  Sure, the cattle would be disqualified as a sacrifice to God, but there should be no prohibition against praying in their presence.

            Rav Mordechai Carlebach, in his work Chavatzelet Ha-sharon (Jerusalem, 5766), suggests an answer based on Rashi's position in his commentary to Masekhet Chulin (40a).  According to Rashi, even though an animal does not become forbidden as a result of worship, it nevertheless obtains the formal halakhic status of a pagan object.  He draws proof to this status from the fact that the Moshe speaks of the Egyptians' cattle as to'avat Mitzrayim ("the deity of Egypt" – 9:20), which Rashi apparently understood as a reference to a formal status, and not merely an empirical observation.  The practical relevance of this status, Rashi claims, is that anything brought as an offering to an animal in the form of religious worship is deemed tikrovet avodat kokhavim, an article of pagan sacrifice, from which one may not derive any kind of benefit.  Rashi contrasts this case to the case of one who brings a religious offering to a piece of land, or a mountain, as a form of worship.  Land – and items permanently attached to land – cannot obtain the halakhic status of avoda zara at all, and thus even items brought as offerings to a piece of land do not become forbidden.  Animals, however, although they do not become forbidden as a result of worship, do obtain the status of avoda zara with respect to items offered to them as sacrifices, which are indeed deemed objects of pagan sacrifice and thus assur be-hana'a.

            Accordingly, we can perhaps explain why Moshe found it necessary to leave the presence of the Egyptians' cattle before praying to God.  As we saw, even though an animal does not become forbidden as a result of worship, it nevertheless has the halakhic status of a pagan deity, which would render it inappropriate for Moshe to pray in the presence of the Egyptians' cattle.

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            Yesterday, we discussed the verse towards the end of Parashat Vaera (9:29) that tells that Moshe first left the city in which he spoke to Pharaoh before praying to God to end the plague of hail.  We addressed the famous comment of the Midrash, cited by Rashi, that Moshe had to first leave the city because it was inappropriate to pray in the presence of pagan deities with which the city was filled.

            The Riva (Rabbi Yitzchak Ben Asher Halevi, a student of Rashi), in his Torah commentary, advances a much different interpretation of this verse.  In his view, Moshe found it necessary to first leave the city in order to see firsthand the destruction wrought by the devastating hail.  It clearly emerges from the Torah's description of this plague that it affected only the fields; no damage was sustained in Egypt's residential areas.  Therefore, before beseeching God to bring an end to the devastation, Moshe wished to first leave the city and witness with his own eyes the destructive effects of the hail.  This would enhance the power of his prayer and ensure its efficacy in ending the plague.

            This approach, of course, easily resolves the question we raised yesterday as to why specifically in this instance, after the plague of hail, Moshe found it necessary to first leave the city before praying to God.  If, as the Midrash claimed, Moshe had to leave the city because of the presence of idolatrous objects, this presumably should have been the case after the previous six plagues, as well, yet only here does the Torah indicate that he first left the city.  According to the Riva, the answer is obvious: only in this instance was the plague confined to the fields outside the cities, thus requiring Moshe to first leave the city in order to witness the ravages of the plague firsthand.  One might, at first glance, argue that the plague of pestilence, which affected only the Egyptians' cattle, also took place only outside the city, in the ranches where the animals were kept.  However, a quick glance at the narrative of that plague (9:6-7) reveals that there was no need in any event for Moshe to offer a prayer to bring an end to the pestilence.  This plague, unlike the others, did not span an extended period of time; from the verses it appears that the animals perished in a single instant.  Hence, the issue of leaving the city to witness the destruction before praying did not arise after that plague.

            Incidentally, the Riva's approach brings to mind a famous responsum of Rav Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe Y.D. 1:223) as to whether one fulfills the obligation of bikur cholim (visiting the sick) by making a telephone call to the patient.  Rav Moshe held that although there certainly is value in phoning a sick friend, and certain aspects of the mitzva are fulfilled through a telephone call, fulfilling the mitzva in its entirety requires personal visitation.  Among the reasons he gives is the effects of direct exposure to the patient's plight, which stirs the visitor to prayer on his behalf far more powerfully than does a telephone call.  Only by personally visiting a patient does one truly begin to feel the pain and despair he experiences and is he moved and inspired to offer a heartfelt, impassioned prayer on his behalf.