S.A.L.T. - PARASHAT VAERA

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI SHABBAT

            The Torah in Parashat Vaera disrupts the narrative of Benei Yisrael’s subjugation and eventual freedom by presenting a brief genealogical record of the tribes of Reuven, Shimon and Levi.  This record briefly lists the names of the major families of these tribes, ending with the family background of Moshe and Aharon, Benei Yisrael’s leaders at the time when the process of their redemption unfolded.  The obvious question arises as to why the Torah inserted this section amidst the Exodus story.

            Rav Shimshon Rephael Hirsch answers by insightfully noting the precise point in the narrative at which the genealogical record appears.  This account follows the initial failure of Moshe and Aharon’s mission, and precedes the story of its ultimate success.  Recall that when the Israelites’ representatives first approached Pharaoh to demand the slaves’ release, Pharaoh outright rejected the demand and intensified their workload manifold.  Despite the failure, God appeared to Moshe and ordered him and Aharon to return to the Egyptian king.  It is at this point when the Torah interjects with the genealogical record, before proceeding to the relate the story of the ten plagues, which culminated, of course, with Benei Yisrael’s release from bondage.  Rav Hirsch explains that before the Torah could describe the success of Moshe and Aharon’s mission, which Rav Hirsch describes as “a mission which has never been accomplished before or after them,” it found it necessary to emphasize their human origin.  The Torah made it absolutely clear specifically at this point, before telling of a slave nation’s unprecedented triumph over tyrannical oppressors, that their leaders who oversaw this process must not be mistaken for deities.  Armed with historical hindsight, Rav Hirsch writes:

Right from the earliest time it has occurred that men who have shown themselves quite strikingly to be benefactors to their people on account of their “godlike” deeds, have been invested after their passing away from this world, with a “godly” origin.  We know well enough how, in later times, a Jew whose genealogical table was not available, and because it was not available, and because he brought to the world a few sparks of light borrowed from the man Moses, became to be considered by nations as begotten of God, and to doubt his divinity became a capital crime.  Our Moses was a man, remained a man and is to remain a man… God made him lay down here his genealogical table, and thereby establish the fact how…on the day when God first spoke to him in Egypt, people knew his parents and grandparents, his uncles and aunts and all his cousins, knew his origin and relations, had known him for eighty years in his perfectly ordinary human nature, subject to all failings and weaknesses, to all the limits and requirements of human beings…

(Rav Hirsch then suggests that the Torah added the genealogy of Reuven and Shimon to demonstrate that there were older members of the nation whom God could have chosen, thus proving that Moshe and Aharon earned their stature as leaders and prophets, and were not selected arbitrarily.)

            It is tempting to ascribe divine qualities to great people because such attribution absolves the rest of us from striving for the standards they set.  The accomplishments of towering spiritual giants naturally make conscientious people feel uneasy about their shortcomings, and their failure to achieve the same standard of excellence.  One all-too-easy technique for handling this uneasy feeling is to ascribe to accomplished people superhuman qualities that enabled them to rise to great heights.  The Torah therefore found it necessary to emphasize that Moshe Rabbenu, the man who brought ten plagues upon Egypt, split the sea and brought us the Torah from the heavens, was an ordinary human being, born to a man and woman who were familiar to the people of the time.  He was very much human – and this is precisely what makes his stature as prophet, scholar, leader and messenger of God so awe-inspiring.

            And this is precisely what led the Rambam to unequivocally declare, “It is possible for any person to be as righteous as Moshe or as wicked as Yerovam” (Hilkhot Teshuva 5:2).  Moshe was born human, just like the rest of us – thus demonstrating how much we are capable of achieving if we would just make the effort.

SUNDAY

            The second of the ten plagues that God brought upon Egypt, as we read in Parashat Vaera, was the plague of frogs.  The Torah relates that the frogs descended upon the homes of the Egyptians, and even jumped into their ovens (7:28).  The Gemara (Pesachim 53b) famously observes that the frogs surrendered their lives by leaping into the hot ovens in Egypt, for the sake of fulfilling the divine will.  This act of self-sacrifice, the Gemara writes, served as an example that was followed many centuries later by Chananya, Mishael and Azarya (who were known by their Babylonian names Shadrakh, Meishakh, and Aveid Nego), three Jewish men who served in the Babylonian government during the Babylonian exile.  As we read in Sefer Daniel (chapter 3), the emperor, Nevukhadnetzar, erected a graven image in the Dura Valley and ordered all government officials to attend the site’s dedication ceremony, and to prostrate themselves before it.  Chananya, Mishael and Azarya refused to bow before the statue, even after the emperor threatened to cast them into a furnace.  They were indeed sent into furnace, and miraculously emerged unscathed.  The Gemara comments that three men drew inspiration from the frogs in Egypt, which threw themselves into the Egyptian ovens in fulfillment of God’s will.

            Rav Eliyahu Baruch Shulman (www.yutorah.org/showShiur.cfm?shiurID=706182) explained the Gemara’s comment to mean that Chananya, Mishael and Azarya learned to take personal initiative at a time when most Jews yielded to the pressures of the general culture.  The heroism of these men lies not only in their willingness to sacrifice their lives, but in their resolve and determination during a period of widespread assimilation, instead of asking, “Why us?”  After the majority of Jews had succumbed to the pressures of the Babylonian Empire, it was natural for Chananya, Mishael and Azarya to wonder why specifically they must risk everything – including their lives – for the sake of their faith.  But they learned the lesson of the frogs that jumped into the ovens.  God had indeed declared that frogs would invade the Egyptians’ ovens, but He never decreed that any particular frog should give up its life inside an oven.  Just as certain frogs were prepared to perform this act of sacrifice without asking “Why me?”, similarly, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya defied the Babylonian emperor even as the majority of Jews acquiesced.

            Rav Shulman further noted an intriguing parallel between the Gemara’s account and the Rambam’s famous comments in Hilkhot Teshuva (6:5) concerning the punishment visited upon the Egyptians.  The Rambam raises the question of why the Egyptians were deserving of punishment, given that God had earlier decreed that Benei Yisrael would suffer a period of oppression in a foreign land (Bereishit 15:13).  The answer, according to the Rambam, is that God’s decree did not specify which individuals would oppress Benei Yisrael.  No individual Egyptian was commanded to enslave and torment the Israelites; each slave master made a clear, willed decision to subjugate and persecute those under his charge, and for this the Egyptians were indeed held accountable.

            In a sense, the situation of the Egyptians closely parallels that of the frogs.  In both instances, God issued a decree upon a group as a whole, and individual members of the group made the decision to carry out the decree.  The difference between the two circumstances, however, is obvious.  In one case, the decree was something that people should have avoided doing, whereas the other entailed an admirable act of self-sacrifice.  In the case of the frogs, there were some who volunteered to step in, take the initiative and fulfill the group’s responsibility.  With regard to the Egyptians, each individual should have known to abstain and protest the brutality, even if this is how the rest acted.  The plague of frogs thus serves as an example of taking personal responsibility and initiative, stepping in to do the “dirty work” that others prefer to avoid.  The Egyptian slave masters, however, did just the opposite – going along with the group instead of doing the right thing.

            These two examples thus demonstrate the importance of thinking and acting as individuals, being prepared to swim against the current – whether this means stepping forward to assume an unpopular responsibility, or standing to the side in protest as others act wrongly.

MONDAY

            Toward the beginning of Parashat Vaera, we read of God’s command to Moshe and Aharon that they return to Pharaoh to again demand the release of Benei Yisrael.  Moshe expresses skepticism over the prospects of such a mission’s success: “If the Israelites did not listen to me [when I conveyed to them Your promise of redemption], then how will Pharaoh listen to me – and I am a person of impeded speech!” (6:12).

            Commenting on Moshe’s reference to his speech impediment, the Midrash Ha-gadol writes:

At the time when Moshe said before the Almighty, “I am a person of impeded speech,” all creatures on earth trembled, and they said, “If Moshe, with whom the Shekhina will, in the future, speak on one hundred and seventy-five occasions, and will explain each and every letter, each and every word and each and every verse in the Torah in seventy languages, says, ‘I am a person of impeded speech,’ then the rest of people – all the more so!”  And because he said, “I am a person of impeded speech,” he was rewarded, and ultimately, “I was standing between the Lord and you” (Devarim 5:5).

How might we explain this description of the people’s dramatic and startled response to Moshe’s speech impediment?  Why did they find it so astonishing that “Moshe, with whom the Shekhina will, in the future, speak on one hundred and seventy-five occasions, and will explain each and every letter, each and every word and each and every verse in the Torah in seventy languages,” had a speech problem?  And why was Moshe rewarded for taking note of this defect?

            One explanation, perhaps, is that the Midrash here refers to the tendency among successful people to deny their imperfections and flaws, and present an image of perfection and infallibility.  What dazzled the people, in the Midrash’s depiction, was not that Moshe suffered from a speech defect, but that he admitted to it.  They noted that if a person of Moshe’s unparalleled caliber could humbly confess to his limitations, and be honest enough to acknowledge that he has certain failings, then “the rest of people – all the more so.”  The rest of us, who have achieved nowhere near the stature of Moshe, must certainly recognize our shortcomings with honesty and humility, and never allow even very impressive accomplishments to delude us into thinking of ourselves as perfect and beyond reproach.

            “And because he said, ‘I am a person of impeded speech,’ he was rewarded, and ultimately, ‘I was standing between the Lord and you’.”  Moshe’s willingness to acknowledge his speech defect is what ultimately enabled him to overcome it, and emerge as the most important communicator of all time – conveying the Torah from God to Benei Yisrael (“I was standing before the Lord and you”).  The reward for recognizing our flaws is the ability to correct them.  The more honestly we assess ourselves, the greater the opportunity we give ourselves to grow, improve and become better people in every way.

TUESDAY

            We read in Parashat Vaera of God’s command to Moshe to return to Pharaoh and demand Benei Yisrael’s release from bondage, despite the failure of Moshe’s initial attempt to convince the Egyptian king to free his slaves.  Moshe responds with skepticism, and, as we saw yesterday, notes his speech difficulties: “va-ani aral sefatayim” (“and I am a man of impeded speech” – 6:12).

            This is not the first time that Moshe has drawn attention to his speech impediment.  Already at the burning bush, when Moshe initially refused to accept the mission of demanding Benei Yisrael’s freedom, he noted this defect (4:10).  Curiously, however, he employs two different terms to describe his impediment in the two contexts.  At the burning bush, Moshe refers to his handicap with the phrase, “kevad peh” (literally, “heavy of speech”), while here, in Parashat Vaera, Moshe uses the term “aral sefatayim.”

            While it is commonly assumed that Moshe refers here to the same handicap, Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch claims that he speaks of two different conditions.  According to Rav Hirsch, at the burning bush Moshe refers to “clumsiness of speech,” a physical defect that made his spoken words sound awkward.  In Parashat Vaera, by contrast, Moshe speaks of a worse condition, one which Rav Hirsch describes as “uncontrolled lips.”  Moshe here tells God, in Rav Hirsch’s words, “Even if I conquer the clumsiness of my vocal organs, I still lack the actual power off speech, the right words fail me.”  In this context, Moshe describes his helplessness over his inability to properly express himself, regardless of any physical defect.  He felt unable to find the right words he would need to communicate the divine message to Pharaoh.

            A clearer distinction between these two terms – “kevad peh” and “aral sefatayim” – is suggested by Rav Aharon Adler (http://www.afyba.org/parsha.asp?parashaId=160&archive=yes), who explained them as referring, respectively, to a physical handicap and a psychological factor.  When Moshe described himself as “kevad peh” at the burning bush, he referred to a physical speech impediment, a defect in his vocal mechanism that made it difficult for him to communicate effectively.  But here, in Parashat Vaera, Moshe speaks of a different factor that impedes his communication – his own skepticism regarding the people’s worthiness.  A crucial component of effective communication is conviction, firm belief in the importance of what one is communicating.  As evidenced in a number of episodes related thus far in Sefer Shemot, Benei Yisrael were quarrelsome and treated each other belligerently.  The questions concerning their worthiness and readiness for redemption caused Moshe to become “aral sefatayim,” unable to speak persuasively to Pharaoh.  So long as doubts lingered in his mind as to whether or not the time for redemption had come, he felt he could not effectively communicate this message to the Egyptian king.  Thus, the frustration expressed here in Parashat Vaera relates not to Moshe’s speech impediment, but rather to his assessment of the people.  His condition of “aral sefatayim,” which made it difficult for him to approach Pharaoh, stemmed not from a physical handicap, but rather from the doubts planted in his mind by the people’s conduct, which would have to be improved before they could be deemed worthy of redemption.

WEDNESDAY

            A study of the process of the ten plagues which God visited upon Egypt reveals that most of them required some degree of involvement on the part of Moshe, Aharon or both.  Before each of the first three plagues, God demanded that Aharon symbolically wave his staff to trigger the plague (7:19, 8:1, 8:12).  The sixth plague, the plague of boils, unfolded when Moshe and Aharon threw a handful of ashes into the air (9:8-9).  The subsequent three plagues – hail, locusts and darkness – began with Moshe outstretching his hand toward the heavens (9:22, 10:12, 10:21).

            The exceptions to this pattern are the plagues of wild beasts, pestilence and the death of the firstborn, which God brought upon Egypt without any involvement on the part of Moshe and Aharon.  In these instances, there was no symbolic action or gesture required to bring the plague; God acted “independently,” as it were, without inviting Moshe and Aharon to participate in the process.

            Rav Amnon Bazak noted that the key to understanding the reason for these exceptions might lie in another common feature of these three plagues.  Namely, in each of these three contexts, God emphasizes that He will “distinguish” (“ve-hifla”) between the Israelites and the Egyptians:

1)    Wild beasts: “On that day I shall distinguish the land of Goshen, on which My nation Israel resides, that there shall be no wild beasts there…” (8:18)

2)    Pestilence: “The Lord shall distinguish between the cattle of Israel and the cattle of Egypt, and nothing among anything of the Israelites will perish…” (9:4)

3)    Death of the firstborn: “Every firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die… And there will be a great cry throughout the land of Egypt…but among the Israelites, not even a dog will move its tongue…so that you know that the Lord will distinguish between Egypt and Israel…” (11:5-7)

There is room to speculate why specifically these three plagues, more so than the other seven, demonstrated this “distinguishing,” God’s ability to restrict the plague to the Egyptian population while sparing the Israelites.  In any event, it is clear that this was among the primary intents and objectives of these three plagues in particular – to underscore the distinction in God’s treatment of Benei Yisrael and of the Egyptians.

            This might therefore explain why God did not include Moshe and Aharon in the process of bringing the plague.  It was critical when emphasizing the distinction between the two nations that nobody other than God be involved.  If Moshe and Aharon would have appeared as playing any sort of independent role in bringing about these plagues, the message of “distinction” would have been lost.  The Egyptians would have assumed that Moshe and Aharon were naturally acting in the interests of their constituents, and thus brought the calamity only upon the Egyptians while sparing Benei Yisrael.  Therefore, when it came to these plagues, which were intended to convey the message of God’s special relationship with Am Yisrael, He ordered Moshe and Aharon to step to the side and assume the role of passive bystanders.

Already in Midyan, right when Moshe was assigned the role of leader, God commanded him to announce to Pharaoh, “Beni bekhori Yisrael” (“Israel is My firstborn son” – 4:22).  One of the lessons of the process of the Exodus, beyond the belief in God’s authority over the earth and the injustice of enslaving another people, is the unique bond between the Almighty and the Israelites.  All people are God’s children, but only Am Yisrael are His “firstborn.”  This message was conveyed specifically through the plagues of wild beasts, pestilence and the death of the firstborn, and therefore, in bringing these plagues, which most clearly and demonstratively expressed Benei Yisrael’s distinctiveness in the Almighty’s eyes, God acted “alone,” without any participation from Moshe and Aharon.

THURSDAY

            Toward the beginning of Parashat Vaera we find what are perhaps the most famous verses in the entire Exodus narrative, and have become known as the “four expressions of redemption” (“arba’a leshonot shel ge’ula”).  God instructs Moshe to convey the following message of hope to Benei Yisrael:

I am the Lord, and I shall take you from underneath the pains of Egypt, and I shall rescue you from their labor, and I shall redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments.  And I shall take you for Me as a nation, and I shall be for you a God… (6:6-7)

These four promises (“I shall take you”; “I shall rescue you”; “I shall redeem you”; “I shall take you”) are traditionally viewed as the basis for the prominence of the number four at the Pesach seder.  Indeed, the Talmud Yerushalmi (Pesachim, chapter 10) states explicitly that the four cups of wine which we must drink at the seder correspond to these four promises recorded here in Parashat Vaera.

            There is perhaps some irony in the prominence of these verses in our commemoration of the Exodus, in light of Benei Yisrael’s initial response upon hearing the four promises: “Moshe spoke this to the Israelites, but they did not listen to Moshe, due to their shortness of spirit and hard labor” (6:9).  At the time when God’s promises were first spoken, Benei Yisrael were in no position to accept them, to feel consoled by them, to see them as a source of hope.  Their hopes had been dashed by the intensified workload which Pharaoh decreed in the wake of Moshe and Aharon’s first meeting with the king.  At this point, they could not trust Moshe’s proclamations of hope; the message he conveyed fell upon deaf ears.  And yet, it is specifically these promises – which, of course, were eventually realized in full – which take center stage as we commemorate the Exodus.  It is as though we give public recognition to the mistake of our ancestors, who could not accept the prophecies of freedom and redemption.

            One might wonder why God had Moshe convey this message of hope to Benei Yisrael at a time when they could not possibly have been expected to respond acceptingly.  The Midrash (Pesikta Zutreta), in fact, appears to laud Moshe for conveying this prophecy to the people despite the anticipated response: “Moshe spoke this to the Israelites – he did not delay in going.”  Given the level of the people’s frustration and suffering, we might have expected Moshe to hesitate, to show some reluctance to bringing a message of hope to a slave nation that had lost hope.  Chazal therefore found Moshe’s immediate compliance with God’s command noteworthy, and applauded him for quickly relaying the prophecy, even though this must have seemed futile at the time.  But the question remains, what purpose was served by conveying this prophecy at the time when it could not possibly have been absorbed by the people?

            The answer, it would seem, is that positive educational messages have long-term value even if they have no immediate effect.  Moshe was sent to deliver the message of hope to the people despite their inability to accept it, because later, as the process began to unfold and Benei Yisrael saw the harsh retribution visited upon Egypt, the four promises would reawaken in their minds.  They would then look back upon Moshe’s prophecy and believe that the time for redemption had indeed arrived.

            The Rebbe of Kotzk made a similar comment regarding the verse in the shema text (Devarim 6:6) that commands us to place the words of Torah “upon your heart.”  It is significant, the Rebbe noted, that we are instructed to place Torah “upon” our hearts, even though the ideal is certainly to contain the Torah’s messages “in” our hearts.  Quite often, he explained, the heart is simply not prepared to open to absorb the religious messages we hear and learn.  The Torah was given to imperfect human beings, and it therefore could not demand that we always place its words “in” our hearts.  What we must do, however, is to place these words “upon” our hearts, so that they may enter the moment the door opens, as soon as the heart softens and becomes receptive to new ideas and change.

            Similarly, God did not expect the promises of redemption to immediately penetrate the despondent hearts of Benei Yisrael.  But he nevertheless commanded Moshe to bring these words “upon” their hearts – so that they would eventually enter and inspire them when the occasion presented itself.

FRIDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Vaera tells of Moshe’s warning to Pharaoh and his servants before the onset of the seventh plague, the plague of hail.  Moshe implored the king to bring his animals, servants and other property indoors before the storm, warning that they would otherwise be destroyed (9:19).  The Torah then informs us that there were two groups among Pharaoh’s servants: those who “feared the word of the Lord” and thus brought their cattle and slaves indoors, and those who “paid no attention to the word of the Lord,” and did not bring their possessions indoors.

            Many have noted the insight into yir’at Shamayim (fear of God) that emerges from these descriptions.  The Torah distinguishes between those who feared God, and those who paid no attention.  Yir’at Shamayim means paying attention, taking note, concerning oneself with religious truths.  The second group of servants, who did not prepare before the hailstorm, likely believed Moshe’s predictions.  After all, he had accurately predicted six previous plagues, and it was quite clear that his warnings should be taken seriously.  But they chose not to pay attention, to lure themselves into a false sense of security by ignoring reality.  A person can truly believe in God’s commands and human accountability, but still fail to live a life of yir’at Shamayim, if he chooses to conveniently ignore these truths rather than pay attention to them.

            Interestingly, Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel identifies the “one who paid no attention to the word of the Lord” as Bilam, the gentile seer who would later be hired by the Moavite king to place a curse upon Benei Yisrael.  This comment of the Targum Yonatan should likely be understood off the background of a famous remark in the Gemara (Sota 11a) that Bilam served as an advisor to Pharaoh during the period of Benei Yisrael’s enslavement.  The question, however, arises as to why specifically Bilam personified this quality of “va-asher lo sam libo li-dvar Hashem,” choosing not to pay attention to God’s warnings.

            The Chafetz Chayim noted that throughout the Bilam narrative in Sefer Bamidbar, we do not find any paragraph breaks.  The narrative appears in a single, prolonged paragraph, spanning some four columns of text in the Torah scroll.  The absence of paragraph breaks, the Chafetz Chayim suggested, perhaps alludes to one important aspect of Bilam’s moral failings.  The Sages teach that the paragraph breaks originate from the time when Moshe first studied the Torah atop Mount Sinai, and they allowed him the opportunity to absorb and assimilate the material he had just learned.   By omitting these breaks in the Bilam narrative, the Chafetz Chayim commented, the Torah perhaps alludes to the fact that Bilam never took the time to absorb, to think, to contemplate, to consider his priorities.  He blindly continued along his path of sin without stopping to think that perhaps he is headed in the wrong direction.

            This insight of the Chafetz Chayim could perhaps clarify the association drawn by the Targum Yonatan between Bilam and the Torah’s description of those “who paid no attention to the word of the Lord.”  This description refers to the people who do not take “breaks,” who go about their lives blissfully ignoring the inconvenient realities of spiritual responsibility.  They heard Moshe’s message, but decided to make themselves too busy to react.  The God-fearing people are those who do not hide from the word of God, and instead absorb and internalize the Almighty’s commands, making the time and the adjustments in their lives that are necessary to obey them.

(Based on a devar Torah by Rav Yissachar Frand, available at http://torah.org/learning/ravfrand/5769/vaera.html)