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Parashat Vaera tells that after Moshe brings to Benei Yisrael God's promises of redemption, they did not listen to him. The Torah attributes their disinterest in Moshe's encouragement to "kotzer ru'ach" ("shortness of spirit") and "avoda kasha" ("difficult labor" - 6:9). Several approaches are taken in explaining these terms. One explanation claims that in their current condition, after seeing their workload increase as Pharaoh now forced them to collect their own straw, Benei Yisrael could not hear God's lofty promises of "I will take you to be My people; I will bring you into the land" and so on. Their minds were focused on their day-to-day hardships and challenges; they were too preoccupied with their basic responsibilities and pressures to pay attention to the grand dreams of national independence in a land flowing and milk honey, and their ancestral covenant with the Almighty. They simply were not on the same wavelength.

In any event, this verse becomes difficult when we read a bit further in the text. Immediately following Benei Yisrael's refusal to listen to Moshe, God once again appears to Moshe and instructs, "Go and tell Pharaoh king of Egypt to let the Israelites depart from this land." Moshe responds, "The Israelites would not listen to me; how then should Pharaoh heed me, and I am a man of impeded speech." Moshe argues that if Benei Yisrael would not listen to his promise of redemption, then certainly Pharaoh would not accept the idea. This reasoning, however, seems flawed. As we saw, Benei Yisrael did not listen to Moshe because of their current state of affairs, the bitter slavery to which they were subjected. But Pharaoh lived in his palace and enjoyed wealth and luxury. The fact that Benei Yisrael did not listen to Moshe would therefore serve as no indication as to whether or not Pharaoh would hear what he had to say.

One might suggest reading Moshe's complaint differently. He is not assuming that Benei Yisrael were more likely to accept his promises of redemption, and if they refused to listen then certainly Pharaoh would refuse. Rather, Benei Yisrael's refusal would naturally lead to Pharaoh's refusal. If Benei Yisrael themselves do not believe in the possibility of redemption, if they have sunken into despair and no longer aspire to freedom, then why would Pharaoh pay any attention to Moshe's appeal that he let the slaves go? If Moshe does not represent the people in his petition, then certainly Pharaoh would quickly dismiss his demands.

Rashi, however, clearly did not interpret the verse this way. Commenting on Moshe's complaint to God, Rashi writes that Moshe here poses a "kal va-chomer" argument. Meaning, if a given reality is true in a circumstance where we might not have expected it, then certainly it would pertain in a circumstance where it is more likely. Accordingly, Moshe indeed assumed that Pharaoh is less likely to listen to God than Benei Yisrael, and the latter's refusal to listen thus indicates that the former would, as well.

So our original question returns: if Benei Yisrael paid no attention to Moshe because of their suffering, why did he assume that Pharaoh would likewise pay no attention?

We might explain Moshe's remark based on the interpretation mentioned earlier. Benei Yisrael could not listen to Moshe because they did not have the state of mind necessary to hear about lofty aspirations. They were too busy, too preoccupied, too overburdened, and too single-mindedly focused on their day-to-day responsibilities. Herein, perhaps, lies the basis of Moshe's reasoning. If Benei Yisrael have their minds too focused on their mundane activities to listen to Moshe's promises of becoming God's people in their ancient homeland, then certainly Pharaoh would not take these aspirations seriously. Preoccupied as they were, Benei Yisrael still retained their connection to their spiritual heritage, they still had some sense of their distinctive identity and knew of God's promises to the patriarchs, however distant those promises currently seemed to them. But Pharaoh was entirely entrenched in the world of the mundane, his mind was exclusively focused on the material and military successes of his country. If God, the patriarchs, and Sinai were far from Benei Yisrael's worldview, then they were even further from the mindset of the Egyptian king.

One might wonder why God sent Moshe to speak to Benei Yisrael at this point, if they simply lacked the mental and emotional capability to lend an ear to his lofty guarantees of freedom and spiritual elevation. The answer, perhaps, is that the Almighty wished to show Benei Yisrael the spiritual dangers of single-minded focus on mundane, day-to-day affairs. Whatever one's occupation, he must ensure to be only "occupied," and not "preoccupied." We may never allow ourselves to reach the point where our daily activities lead us to "kotzer ru'ach," where the promises of the Torah, the destiny of the Jewish people, the sanctity of our mission and the uniqueness of our spiritual heritage, do not mean anything to us. The phenomenon of "kotzer ru'ach" can occur even without forced labor; one who performs his work by his own free choice can also find himself too single-mindedly focused on his affairs to contemplate his relationship with God and commitment to Torah and Am Yisrael. For this reason, perhaps, God had Moshe approach Benei Yisrael with his promises, to demonstrate the dangers of the "kotzer ru'ach syndrome."

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We read in Parashat Vaera of seven of the ten plagues that befell Egypt, the second of which being the plague of frogs. The Torah indicates that the frogs filled the Egyptians' homes and even entered their ovens (7:28). A famous Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (53b) notes that the frogs entered the ovens while they were kindled for baking, prepared to sacrifice their lives in the fulfillment of the divine command. The Gemara adds that many centuries later, when the Babylonian emperor Nevukhadnetzar ordered Chanaya, Mishael and Azarya to bow before an idol at the threat of death, the three Jews recalled the heroism of the frogs in Egypt. They thought to themselves, if the frogs were prepared to sacrifice their lives to obey God's word, then certainly they, who are commanded with respect to "kiddush Hashem," should be prepared to give their lives rather than bow to a statue. As told in Sefer Daniel, Chanaya, Mishael and Azarya threw themselves into a fiery furnace, and were miraculously saved.

Commenting on this Gemara, Tosefot ask why these three tzadikim needed to look to the frogs of Egypt for direction and guidance in this regard. Different views exist as to under which circumstances Halakha requires one to sacrifice his life rather than transgress the Torah, but all views would agree that the situation faced by Chananya, Mishael and Azarya indeed mandated martyrdom. According to one position, which has been accepted as Halakha, one must be prepared to surrender his life rather than commit idolatry. The other view allows one to worship idols rather than give his life, but concedes that when this situation arises in a public setting, as was the case with Chananya, Mishael and Azarya, one must give his life rather than transgress. Why, therefore, did these three men have any hesitation at all in deciding whether or not to sacrifice their lives rather than obey the emperor's order to bow to a statue?

Tosefot cite Rabbenu Tam as answering that Nevukhadnetzar did not, in fact, order Chananya, Mishael and Azarya to bow to an idol. He rather asked them to bow to a monument erected in his honor. Since this did not constitute outright avoda zara (idolatry), they were not bound by Halakha to surrender their lives.

But Tosefot's answer gives rise to yet another difficulty. If, indeed, the three men were not pressured into worshipping an idol, then what right did they have tsacrifice their lives? After all, the Rambam famously rules (Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah 5:4) that in a situation where Halakha permits one to violate the Torah rather than sacrifice his life, Halakha in fact demands that he violate the Torah. Whenever Halakha does not mandate surrendering one's life, one has the obligation to save his life, even if this entails violating the Torah. Why, then, did Chananya, Mishael and Azarya step into the furnace rather than bow before a monument in Nevukhadnetzar's honor?

Instinctively, one might respond that Tosefot here follow the position of a different Tosefot, in Masekhet Avoda Zara (27), adopted as well by the Ra'avad (in his critique of the Rambam), permitting martyrdom even when Halakha does not require it. Tosefot in Pesachim perhaps argue with the Rambam, and therefore permitted Chananya, Mishael and Azarya to surrender their lives even when they were not obligated to do so.

Though an attractive option for resolving this difficulty, this answer is far from simple. The Gemara in Masekhet Yevamot (121b) tells a story of a Jew who was ordered by a gentile to perform for him on Shabbat certain activities that entailed Shabbat violation. The Jew refused to obey the order and was killed. Given that Shabbat is not included among the prohibitions one must avoid even at the threat of death, the question arises why this Jew felt it necessary to give his life. Tosefot (in Sanhedrin 74b) answer, quite simply, that he made a mistake; this Jew simply did not know that Halakha permitted him to desecrate Shabbat to save his life. But some Acharonim wonder why Tosefot had to resort to this explanation. If, as Tosefot themselves maintain, Halakha permits one to give his life to avoid a violation even when he is not obligated to do so, then perhaps this individual made such a decision. Why didn't Tosefot say, very simply, that this Jew knew the Halakha but decided to give his life anyway, in accordance with Tosefot's view?

In light of this difficulty, the Mishneh Le-melekh (in Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah 5:4) draws proof from this Gemara to a significant qualification imposed on Tosefot's position by Rabbenu Yerucham. Tosefot do not allow one in all cases to sacrifice his life to avoid a violation. One may do so, according to Tosefot, only if his life is threatened due to religious persecution, meaning, when a gentile seeks to have the Jew betray, and ultimately renounce his loyalty to, the Torah. If this is the gentile's intent, then the Jew has the right to sanctify God's Name by surrendering his life rather than transgress God's command. When, however, the gentile coerces the Jew out of personal, rather than religious, motivations, then the Jew must commit the given violation in order to save his life.

Returning, then, to the situation of Chananya, Mishael and Azarya, according to Tosefot, Nevukhadnetzar wanted them to show their loyalty to him by prostrating before a monument erected in his honor. Clearly, then, the Babylonian emperor was driven by personal, rather than purely religious, motives. Therefore, even according to Tosefot's position, the three men would be forbidden from sacrificing their lives in this situation. Why, then, did they throw themselves into the furnace?

The answer can be found in a comment by the Nemukei Yosef (Sanhedrin 18a) regarding the Rambam's position. The Nemukei Yosef claims that although the Rambam forbids martyrdom when Halakha does not require it, a prominent, righteous Jew may give his life if he sees that the people of his time are disloyal to the Torah and he seeks to impress upon them the importance of mitzvot. In such a situation, even if Halakha does not mandate martyrdom to avoid violating the given transgression, the righteous leader may, indeed, surrender his life in the sanctification of God's Name.

Tosefot presumably felt that Chananya, Mishael and Azarya found themselves in this very position. The Jews had begun assimilating in the Babylonian exile and adopting their customs and way of life. These three tzadikim, who were prominent, religious personalities at the time, found it necessary to demonstrate their defiance of Nevukhadnetzar's regime, even at the risk of death, to curb the current trend among the Jews of Bavel. According to all views, then, it was permitted for them to give their lives rather than agree to bow to the monument.

(Based on Rav Shemeul Eliezerov's "Devar Shemuel" on Masekhet Pesachim)

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In Parashat Vaera, before the Torah begins telling the story of the ten plagues that befell Egypt, it digresses by briefly recording the genealogy of the first three tribes of Israel – Reuven, Shimon and Levi. Rashi (6:14) explains that the Torah's purpose is simply to trace the genealogy of Moshe and Aharon, the central figures in the story of the Exodus. But rather than skipping straight to their tribe, the tribe of Levi, the Torah begins from the first tribe, Reuven, and continues until it arrives at the family of Moshe and Aharon.

But while this would explain why the Torah suddenly ends the genealogical record after reaching Moshe and Aharon, it does not tell us why the Torah found it necessary to trace Moshe and Aharon's family background in the first place. We already know from the second chapter of Sefer Shemot that Moshe was born to the tribe of Levi, and later (4:14) Aharon is introduced as Moshe's brother. Shouldn't this information suffice? Why must the Torah trace the family background of Moshe and Aharon?

Rav Yosef Patzanavsky, in his "Pardes Yosef," suggests that perhaps the Torah wished to remind us that these two great leaders were human beings, born to a father and mother and part of a family of Israel like the rest of the nation. He notes that in Masekhet Chulin (139b), the Gemara looks for a subtle allusion to Moshe Rabbenu in Sefer Bereishit, and finds it in the verse, "My spirit shall not abide in man forever, being that he is flesh; let the days allowed him be one hundred and twenty years" (Bereishit 6:3). Rashi explains that the word "be-shagam" ("being that") has the same numerical value as "Moshe," and indeed Moshe lived one hundred and twenty years. In this manner, this verse can be seen as a subtle allusion to the future teacher of Israel. But wherein lies the significance of this allusion? Why is it important that the Torah embedded within this verse a hint regarding Moshe Rabbenu? The Pardes Yosef cites from the "Chayei Aryeh" that the significance lies in the phrase, "being that he is human." Specifically this clause alludes to Moshe, because the Torah feared that people might mistake Moshe for a superhuman personality. How convenient it would be to disregard everything Moshe taught Benei Yisrael on the grounds that he is beyond the human realm, and therefore anything he says has no relevance to us mortals. The Torah therefore went out of its way to stress that Moshe, too, was a human being, and his teachings directly apply to us, as well.

Similarly, the Pardes Yosef suggests, as the Torah prepares to tell the story of the downfall of the Egyptian empire at the hands of Moshe and Aharon, it must first emphasize that they, too, were but flesh and blood.

We might add that this approach could perhaps be formulated from a slightly different angle than that taken by the Pardes Yosef. The Torah may have emphasized Moshe and Aharon's family background to indicate that despite their newfound position of leadership and prominence, they remained devoted sons, brothers, cousins, and fathers. Authority and distinction often tear people away from their families and family life to the point where their entire existence surrounds their public position. But this did not happen to Moshe and Aharon. True, while Benei Yisrael were in the wilderness, Moshe's daily communion with God necessitated his separation from his wife, a move that engendered resentment on the part of his siblings (see Rashi, Bamidbar 12:1). Otherwise, however, Moshe and Aharon remained closely connected to their families despite their positions of authority. Although they now serve as God's agents to speak to Pharaoh,cause miracles to occur, and topple the mightiest empire on earth, they remained human beings and did not free themselves from the basic responsibilities of ordinary people.

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Yesterday, we discussed the significance of the brief genealogical record in Parashat Vaera (6:14-27), which enumerates the families of the tribes of Reuven, Shimon and Levi, until finally arriving at Moshe and Aharon. Following this record, the Torah records God's command to Moshe to speak to Pharaoh and His reassurance that although the Egyptian king will refuse to let Benei Yisrael free, God will Himself release the slaves amidst great wonders and miracles. Then, just before the Torah begins narrating the story of the plagues that befell Egypt, it takes a moment to inform us of the ages of Moshe and Aharon: Moshe at this point was eighty years old, and his older brother, eighty-three (7:7). Why is this information necessary, and why is it presented specifically at this point, as part of the introduction to the ten plagues and the Exodus?

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin, in his "Oznayim La-Torah," suggests that a powerful lesson emerges from this seemingly trivial statistic. As we noted last week, several of the chapters of Tehillim were written by Moshe Rabbenu. Psalm 90 in fact begins "A prayer to Moshe," and according to Chazal, this chapter begins an eleven-chapter series composed by Moshe. In any event, in this chapter, 90, Moshe declares, "The span of our life is seventy years, or, given the strength, eighty years" (verse 10). Moshe himself makes the point that at least during his period in history, people generally lived around seventy years, or at most eighty. Amazingly enough, Rav Sorotzkin notes, it was precisely at this age, when life was expected to end, that Moshe effectively began his "career," so-to-speak. The achievements for which Moshe is known – the Exodus, Matan Torah, leading Benei Yisrael through the wilderness – all began after Moshe completed his eightieth year, after the point where even "given the strength" someone in his time could not expect to live any longer.

What this shows, of course, is that it is never too late, and every breath of life given to a person is another opportunity to achieve. Moshe's indispensable contribution to Am Yisrael began at the age when most people would "retire," when they feel they have already made their contribution and now reached the time to care only for themselves. The story of Moshe tells us that one's obligations towards his nation and the world never end, and every stage of life offers us new opportunities to grow, to achieve, and to contribute.

(A famous Midrash tells that Yokheved, Moshe's mother, was born just as Yaakov and his family crossed the border from Canaan to Egypt. Given that Moshe was eighty years old at the time of the Exodus, and Benei Yisrael spend two hundred and ten years in Egypt, it would thus turn out that Yokheved gave birth to Moshe and the age of one hundred and thirty. It may seem somewhat strange, then, that her own son speaks of seventy years as the average life expectancy of his time! Perhaps Moshe realized that his mother's longevity – not to mention fertility at such an advanced age – was of a miraculous nature. Alternatively, as Rav Chayim Hirschensohn claims in his "Nimukei Rashi" in Parashat Vayigash, we are not to understand this Midrash literally, that Yokheved was born when Yaakov and his family entered Egypt, and this account was meant allegorically.)

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We read in Parashat Vaera that following the third plague with which God struck Egypt, Pharaoh's magicians acknowledged that "it is the finger of God" (8:15). The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (95b) remarks that this "finger" returned much later in Am Yisrael's history to strike against the nation's foes: "This is the finger that in the future will exact retribution against Sancheiriv." According to another view cited there in the Gemara, it was the "hand of God" that drowned the Egyptians at the Sea of Reeds (Shemot 14:31) that would later strike the army of Sancheiriv. According to both opinions, however, a connection exists between the destruction suffered by Egypt during the Exodus and the fall of the army of Ashur, led by Sancheiriv, as it besieged the city of Jerusalem during the time of King Chizkiyahu (Melakhim II 19:35). How are we to understand this association?

One might suggest explaining this connection by comparing the prophets' descriptions of these two kingdoms - Egypt and Ashur. In the haftara for Parashat Vaera, the prophet Yechezkel speaks of Pharaoh's overconfidence and arrogance: "I am going to deal with you, O Pharaoh king of Egypt, mighty monster, sprawling in your channels, who said: My Nile is my own, I made it for myself" (29:3). Pharaoh and Egypt felt secure due to the constant water supply and fertile grounds provided by the Nile River; God therefore warns of the doom that will befall Egypt with the Babylonian invasion, at which point "all the inhabitants of Egypt shall know that I am the Lord" (29:6).

We find a similar depiction of absolute self-assurance and exaggerated confidence in Yeshayahu's prediction of Ashur's downfall: "I will punish the majestic pride and overbearing arrogance of the king of Ashur [Sancheiriv]. For he thought: By the might of my hand have I wrought it, by my skill, for I am clever" (10:12-13). This common flaw - the denial of divine control and power and insistent on supreme, independent strength – perhaps accounts for the comparison drawn by Chazal between these two nations.

A second explanation may be suggested, as well. At one point in his sefer, the prophet Yeshayahu (chapters 30-31) criticizes Am Yisrael for turning to Egypt for assistance and diplomatic and military protection. The commentaries (see especially Radak) are bothered by the fact that nowhere in the books of Melakhim and Divrei Hayamim do we find the Jewish people turning to Egypt for help during the period of Yeshayahu's prophecies (namely, during the kings of Uziyahu, Yotam, Achaz and Chizkiyahu). Rashi therefore suggests that here, Yeshayahu, whose prophecies are generally directed towards the Kingdom of Yehuda, suddenly addresses the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The final king of the north, Hoshea Ben Ela, appeals to King So of Egypt for assistance after coming under attack by Shalmaneser, the emperor of Ashur who ultimately exiles the Northern Kingdom (see Melakhim II 17:3-4). Radak, however, suggests that perhaps during the time of Chizkiyahu, when Sancheiriv captured much of the Kingdom of Judah and besieged Jerusalem, there were those in Jerusalem who sought to form an alliance with Egypt in resisting Sancheiriv's offensive. Rav Yigal Ariel, in his "Mikdash Melekh" (pp. 363,369), contends that Chizkiyahu himself, though generally a pious, God-fearing king, himself initiated this alliance in an effort to protect his kingdom from the Assyrian assault, and Rav Ariel views this as part of the complexity of Chizkiyahu's piety. If, indeed, an initiative was made – either by the government or by other parties – to seek Egypt's assistance in the country's struggle against Ashur, then we might arrive at a new understanding of the connection drawn between Egypt and Ashur. Chazal perhaps emphasize here the irony in Benei Yisrael's search for a political alliance with Egypt in their campaign against Ashur. After all, the same "finger" that brought supernatural plagues against the Egyptians will, centuries later, easily eliminate the Assyrian threat, as well. How unnecessary, therefore, and in fact foolish, was it for Benei Yisrael to look to Egypt for assistance as they attempt to escape exile and destruction at the hands of Ashur.

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As he warns Pharaoh of the impending plague of hail, Moshe urges the Egyptian king and his advisors to bring their slaves and animals indoors so that they would not perish during the furious hailstorm. The Torah distinguishes between two different groups among Pharaoh's servants. Those who "feared the word of the Lord" heeded Moshe's warning and brought their animals and slaves inside (9:20). The others, who "paidno attention to the word of the Lord," ignored the warning and lost their property (9:21).

One might wonder whether indeed the first group deserved the accolade of "God-fearing" (or that they "feared the word of the Lord"). Isn't the "fear of God" a lofty goal towards which we must spend our lives aspiring? After experiencing six plagues, the onset and cessation of each Moshe had predicted with perfect precision, how much "yirat Hashem" was required for these servants to bring their property indoors?

The obvious answer, as noted by Rav Yerucham Lebovitz zt"l of Mir, is that yirat Shamayim is not, in fact, a terribly difficult level to achieve. Reverent obedience to the commands of the supreme Authority over the universe should come naturally and easily. To understand why many of us struggle with yirat Hashem, we need merely to take note of the Torah's description of those who left their slaves and animals outside to die in the hail: "who paid no attention" ("lo sam libo"). Yirat Hashem is about focus and attention. Once one concentrates on the concept of the Almighty, His power and His commands, yirat Shamayim indeed comes naturally. The challenge lies in the first step, to "pay attention to the Word of God." The Torah therefore distinguishes between those who "feared the word of the Lord" and those who "paid no attention."

This basic idea might help explain a famous and difficult passage in Masekhet Berakhot (33b). Commenting on the verse in Sefer Devarim (10:12), "And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God demand of you, other than to fear the Lord your God," the Gemara asks, "Is yirat Shamayim such a small matter?" Why does Moshe tell Benei Yisrael that this is "all" God demands? The Gemara responds, "Yes – for Moshe Rabbenu, this is a small matter." Many scholars have questioned this response of the Gemara, as it appears to indicate that Moshe was unaware of the gap between him and his disciples, that he naively assumed that anything easy for him is easy for Benei Yisrael. Based on the idea developed above, we might explain the Gemara to mean that for someone who focuses his mind and attention at all times on the Almighty and His commands, yirat Shamayim is indeed a simple matter to achieve. Moshe Rabbenu, by necessity, and by virtue of his "job," had his mind constantly focused on God. We noted two days ago that the possibility that God would speak with him at any moment compelled him to separate from his wife, to ensure a constant state of purity and preparedness for prophecy. Under such conditions, yirat Hashem is indeed a very simple matter; it is only due to our lack of focus and attention that we find it difficult to engender within ourselves the appropriate standards of yirat Shamayim.

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Vaera, we read the famous "arba leshonot shel ge'ula," or "four expressions of redemption." God promises Benei Yisrael, "I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm… And I will take you to be My people… " (6:6-7). The meaning of three out of these four "expressions" is, for the most part, clear. "Ve-hotzeiti" ("I will free you") presumably refers to the actual release from slavery, whereas "ve-hitzalti" ("deliver") likely means complete disengagement from the Egyptians. Benei Yisrael will not only achieve freedom from slavery, but freedom generally from the Egyptians; Egypt will exert absolutely no power or authority over them at all. The fourth expression, "ve-lakachti," seems to refer to the aftermath of the Exodus, specifically Ma'amad Har Sinai, where Benei Yisrael enter into a covenant with God and formally become His people.

The meaning of the third term, however, "ve-ga'alti," is less obvious. After Benei Yisrael are free from Egypt, what further "redemption" do they require? While instinctively we might think of spiritual redemption, this appears to be included under the fourth expression, "ve-lakachti." To what, then, does "ve-ga'alti" refer?

The Ramban explains by associating the term "ve-ga'alti" with the halakhic concept of "ge'ula." In Parashat Behar, the Torah describes the process of "redeeming" land; it establishes the guidelines governing the reclaiming of property sold under financial duress. Thus, the Ramban concludes, the term "ge'ula" refers to quid pro quo transactions. Here, in reference to the Exodus, it means that God will put the Egyptians in a situation where they will wholeheartedly give Benei Yisrael their freedom in exchange for their very lives, which they realized were threatened by the God of the Hebrew slaves. In this third expression, then, God promises that He would not only free Benei Yisrael from Egypt, but He will ensure that the Egyptians set them free decisively and wholeheartedly.

Seforno takes a different approach, claiming that "ve-ga'alti" refers to the elimination of the Egyptians at the sea. Until that point, Benei Yisrael fled Egypt as fugitives; once, however, they witness their former oppressors drowned at sea, they became free men in the fullest sense of the term.

The question arises, according to both interpretations, as to the significance of this promise, "ve-ga'alti." How critical a stage of the redemption process was the "transaction" component spoken of by the Ramban, or the drowning of the Egyptians at sea, according to Seforno? Even without these events, Benei Yisrael were out of their chains, independent, self-governing, and no longer bound to anybody in Egypt. At this point, seemingly, all that remained was their march to Sinai to see the realization of the fourth promise, "ve-lakachti." Why, then, according to the Ramban and Seforno, does God emphasize as well the aspect of "ve-ga'alti"?

Rav Henoch Leibowitz explains that according to these commentators, "ve-ga'alti" refers to emotional freedom. Before reaching the stage of "ve-lakachti," Benei Yisrael had to not only achieve physical freedom from the Egyptians, but attain an internal sense of freedom, as well. Transforming their self-image, from one of dependent slaves to free men, indeed marked a critical stage of redemption. Therefore, "ve-ga'alti" forms the bridge, as it were, between the first two stages – physical freedom – and the final stage – spiritual freedom. In between, Benei Yisrael had to feel their independence. According to the Ramban, the circumstances surrounding the Exodus, the way Egypt begged them to leave and drove them out in fear of their lives, gave Benei Yisrael a sense of closure. They left Egypt not against the Egyptians' will, but at their desperate behest. According to Seforno, this was not enough; Benei Yisrael had to witness firsthand the death of their foes for them to free themselves once and for all from the emotional slavery to which they had been subjected for two centuries.

What this process shows us, of course, is that "ve-lakachti" – the establishment of a deep, covenantal relationship with God - is possible only if the individual stops looking over his shoulder worrying about his other commitments and "masters." Our loyalty to the Almighty does not allow for conflicting allegiances. "Ve-ga'alti" – according to both the Ramban and Seforno - means a clean break from the past, Benei Yisrael's complete detachment from their sense of obligation to Egypt. Similarly, to be "taken" by God, we must eliminate any potentially conflicting masters, so that we can wholeheartedly accept the Almighty as our one and only source of authority.

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