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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT VAERA

BY RAV DAVID SILVERBERG

            In Parashat Vaera, before the Torah begins the narrative of the ten plagues, it informs us of Moshe and Aharon's ages when they confronted Pharaoh:  "And Moshe was eighty years old, and Aharon was eighty-three years old, when they spoke to Pharaoh" (7:7).  Seforno explains this verse as intended to emphasize Moshe and Aharon's alacrity in executing their duties despite their advanced age.  Interestingly, Seforno cites in this context a verse from chapter 90 of Tehillim, which, as the chapter's first verse tells, was written by Moshe himself: "The span of our life is seventy years, and if we are given strength, eighty years."  This proves, Seforno claims, that in Moshe's time eighty was considered an advanced age.  The Torah therefore found it noteworthy that at this age Moshe and Aharon exerted themselves on behalf of this cause, of freeing Benei Yisrael.

            The Ketav Sofer explains the verse's intent in light of its juxtaposition to the immediately preceding verse: "Moshe and Aharon did as the Lord had commanded them; so did they do."  According to the Ketav Sofer, the Torah seeks to emphasize that Moshe and Aharon assumed the mantle of leadership and confronted Pharaoh not for their own prestige and honor, but strictly to fulfill the command they had received from God.  The Torah then proves their sincerity by noting their age.  Generally speaking, once people reach this age they no longer have ambitions of power and authority; they prefer to spend their final years in comfort and tranquility, rather than working to exert control and rise to fame.  Thus, Moshe and Aharon's ages prove that they did "as the Lord had commanded them," without any ulterior motives.

            In a slightly different vein, Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests that Moshe and Aharon's ages prove their sincerity because it is generally the younger generation that leads revolts and revolutions.  Campaigns to resist or overthrow the ruling authorities are virtually always led by relatively young personalities, who have the vision, ambition and energy to work towards improving their lot.  Very rarely do we find octogenarians assuming these roles.  That Moshe and Aharon led Benei Yisrael in their quest for freedom and redemption demonstrates that they acted with the pure intention of fulfilling the divine will, and not for any ulterior motive.

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            Parashat Vaera tells of the first seven of the ten plagues that befell Egypt, and we read that when the first two plagues – blood and frogs – struck the Egyptians, the Egyptian sorcerers were successful in reproducing the given phenomenon with their magical powers (7:22, 8:3).  When it comes to the third plague, however, the plague of lice, the magicians are unable to replicate the manifestation of lice.  They tell Pharaoh, "Etzba Elokim hi" – "This is the finger of God" (8:15).  Curiously, however, the verse continues, "Pharoah's heart was hardened and he paid no heed to them, as the Lord had spoken."  This exact clause appears earlier, describing Pharaoh's response to the success of his magicians in replicating the plague of blood.  In that context, we understand the meaning of this clause: Pharaoh stubbornly refused to submit to divine power, because he saw that his sorcerers were capable of matching God's force.  Here, however, after the plague of lice, it seems difficult to understand why Pharaoh's heart was hardened.  After all, his trusted magicians acknowledged the superiority of God's force.  Why would Pharaoh respond by once again refusing to comply with God's command to free Benei Yisrael?

            The simplest explanation, perhaps, is to read the verse to mean that Pharaoh's heart was hardened despite the magicians' conclusion.  We might even claim that when the Torah writes here, "he paid no heed to them," it means not that he paid no heed to Moshe and Aharon, but that he paid no heed to his magicians.  Pharaoh's heart was hardened to such an extent that he refused to resign himself to the inevitable conclusion of God's superiority, and he therefore denied the sorcerers' assertion that the lice evolved from "the finger of God."

            Several commentators, however, explain differently.  Ibn Ezra and the Rashbam interpret "the finger of God" to mean a natural epidemic.  Seeing that they were unable to produce lice, the sorcerers arrogantly concluded that this plague was not the result of Moshe and Aharon's magic, but rather a natural manifestation.  Had this been the product of magic, they told Pharaoh, they would have been able to do the same.  We can thus easily understand why Pharaoh hardened his heart in response to the sorcerers' comments.  He was told that this was not a plague brought about by Moshe and Aharon, but rather a purely natural lice infestation.  (It should be noted that Moshe and Aharon gave no warning to Pharaoh before the plague of lice; this perhaps strengthened the magicians' – and Pharaoh's – conviction that it was not brought about by Moshe and Aharon at all.)  The weakness of this approach, of course, is that translates "the finger of God" as "force of nature."  Ibn Ezra supports this contention by noting that the word Elokim, as opposed to the Shem Havaya (the standard Name used in reference to God), denotes control over the natural world, as opposed to supernatural force.  Thus, he argues, "etzba Elokim" means a force of nature, rather than miraculous, divine intervention.

            A slightly different idea was developed centuries later, by Rav Yechiel Michel Epstein, author of the Arukh Ha-shulchan, in his commentary to the Haggadah entitled Leil Shimurim.  Rav Epstein focuses on the magicians' metaphoric description of the force they beheld as etzba – a "finger."  The natural world consists of four basic elements, of which all matter consists: earth, air, fire and water.  The sorcerers told Pharaoh that what they were witnessing was a "finger" – a fifth element of nature of which they had been totally unaware.  Unable to replicate this phenomenon, the sorcerers decided that there must be a new force in nature that had not been previously discovered.  Rather than acknowledging a force of God that exerts control over all nature forces, they insisted that this plague, like other natural forces, somehow worked within the rigid framework of the physical universe.

            Later in Sefer Shemot (14:31), the Torah tells that at the splitting of the Yam Suf, Benei Yisrael saw the "great hand with which the Lord had acted in Egypt."  Rav Epstein explains that at that moment, they realized without question that the plagues resulted not from a "finger," one of several natural forces, but rather from a "hand," from an overarching divine force that exerts absolute control over all the "fingers," all the particular components of the natural world.

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            The fifth of the ten plagues that God brought upon Egypt, as told in Parashat Vaera, is the plague of dever, or pestilence, which killed all the Egyptians' cattle.  After the plague, we read, "Pharaoh sent, and behold, not one died from all of Israel's cattle; he hardened his heart and did not send the nation" (9:7).  The verse tells that Moshe's prediction before the plague, that the pestilence would affect only the Egyptians' animals, and not those of the slaves, materialized; it then proceeds to inform us that Pharoah "hardened his heart" and refused to set the slaves free.  The question, of course, arises as to how the first half of the verse results in the second.  If Pharaoh saw that only the Egyptians lost their cattle, seemingly proving without doubt that it was God's power that caused this plague, why did he once again refuse to free Benei Yisrael?  (This question parallels the question we dealt with yesterday, concerning Pharaoh's reaction to his sorcerers' acknowledgment that the plague of vermin resulted from "the finger of God.")

            The simplest answer, perhaps, as Ibn Ezra explains, is to add the words "even though" at the beginning of the verse.  The Torah here tells us that although Pharaoh saw the clear distinction between his nation's and Benei Yisrael's cattle, he nevertheless continued to stubbornly refuse to surrender.  This interpretation has basis in the Midrash Lekach Tov, which comments that Pharaoh's heart was hardened "against his will, in order to drive him from the world."  The Midrash likely seeks to answer the question we raised, and therefore explains that God hardened his heart to prevent him from reaching the conclusion that he would have naturally reached upon seeing that only his country suffered the effects of pestilence.

            The Malbim, however, explains differently, noting the unusual terminology employed in this verse, "lo meit mi-miknei Benei Yisrael ad echad."  Although this clause is generally translated as, "not one among Benei Yisrael's cattle died," the term "ad echad" literally means, "until one."  As the Malbim notes, this term appears – perhaps more famously – later in Sefer Shemot, in the narrative of the splitting of the sea, where the Torah writes about the drowned Egyptian army, "lo nish'ar bahem ad echad" ("not one of them remained" – Shemot 14:28).  One view in the Mekhilta (Rabbi Yehuda) explains this phrase to mean that one soldier in fact did survive the splitting of the sea, and that was Pharaoh himself.  Although Ibn Ezra (in Parashat Beshalach) dismisses this reading of the verse as homiletics, the Malbim draws support for it from a verse in Sefer Shoftim (4:16), where this same expression – "lo nish'ar ad echad" – is used to describe the fall of the Canaanite army of Sisera during their battle against Benei Yisrael's forces.  As anyone familiar with this story knows, Sisera himself survived this battle and fled to the tent of Yael, where he was later killed.  From here, the Malbim writes, we can perhaps prove that the expression ad echad means "all but one," rather than "not one."

            Returning to our context, then, when Pharaoh learned that "not one among Benei Yisrael's cattle died," it means that one Israelite animal did, in fact, perish during the plague of pestilence.  (Interestingly enough, the Chatam Sofer cites a Midrash that says so explicitly.  He does not provide the source of the Midrash, and I haven't seen it cited anywhere else.  He may have referred to the aforementioned view in the Mekhilta concerning the verse in Parashat Beshalach and implicitly applied it to our verse.)  The Malbim speculates that this animal belonged to the man who would later become the megadeif, or blasphemer, whom the Torah introduces towards the end of Parashat Emor (Vayikra 24:10).  This man, we are told, was the son of an Israelite woman and an Egyptian man.  The Ramban (in Parashat Emor) writes that although Torah law determines national identity based on matrilineal descent, this policy did not apply before Matan Torah; hence, this man had the formal status of an Egyptian, having been fathered by an Egyptian man.  However, since he was raised among Benei Yisrael, the Egyptians mistakenly presumed his Israelite nationality.

Therefore, during the plague of pestilence, his animal (or animals), like all the Egyptians' cattle, perished.  The Egyptians, however, who considered him a member of Benei Yisrael, mistakenly reported to Pharaoh that one animal from among Benei Yisrael's herds died during the plague.  For this reason, Pharaoh, seeing that the plague affected Benei Yisrael, as well, refused to accept the divine origin of the plague, and thus did not surrender to Moshe and Aharon.  (This approach is also cited in the name of the Vilna Gaon and others.)

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            Yesterday, we discussed a problematic verse in Parashat Vaera, describing Pharaoh's reaction to the plague of pestilence that decimated Egypt's supply of livestock, while having no effect upon Benei Yisrael: "Pharaoh sent, and behold, not one died from all of Israel's cattle; he hardened his heart and did not send the nation" (9:7).  If Pharaoh saw the clear and evident distinction that the mysterious disease drew between the Egyptians and the Israelites, why did he once again harden his heart and refuse to set the slaves free?

            The Netziv, in his Ha'amek Davar, suggests an explanation that in one sense resembles the Malbim's approach, which we presented yesterday.  Like the Malbim, the Netziv focuses on the unusual expression ad echad that the Torah employs to mean "even one."  But whereas the Malbim (based on Chazal's comments concerning a different instance of this expression) interpreted this term to mean "except one," the Netziv posits a much different theory.  In his view, animals belonging to the Egyptians that had been borrowed or leased by members of Benei Yisrael survived the pestilence.  The term ad echad emphasizes that even those animals which we would have expected to perish, as they were Egyptian-owned, survived the plague in the merit of their having been in the temporary service of Benei Yisrael.  When Pharaoh heard that some Egyptian cattle survived the pestilence, he hardened his heart and refused to surrender, convincing himself that this plague was not the work of the Almighty.

            A much simpler explanation was suggested by Rav Yosef Schwartz, in his Ginzei Yosef (cited in Ke-motzei Shalal Rav), who claimed that when Pharaoh discovered that no Israelite animals died, he felt relieved.  He realized he could begin replenishing the decimated Egyptian livestock supply by seizing and breeding Benei Yisrael's herds and flocks.  He hardened his heart because he found a way to – in his mind – "outsmart" the plague, to capitalize on the distinction drawn between Benei Yisrael and the Egyptians by confiscating the slave nation's cattle.

            Rav Schwartz adds that this interpretation may shed light on a later verse, in Parashat Bo.  After the plague of darkness, Pharaoh summons Moshe and Aharon and agrees to let Benei Yisrael free on condition that their cattle and sheep remain behind (10:24).  Moshe replies, "Even you will hand us sacrifices and burnt-offerings that we may make for the Lord our God.  Also our cattle will go with us; not a hoof will be left behind…"  According to Rav Schwartz, Moshe perhaps refers here to Benei Yisrael's sheep and cattle that Pharaoh had seized after the pestilence.  He tells the Egyptian king that the slaves will leave Egypt with not only the cattle currently in their possession, but also the animals that were formerly in their possession before being confiscated by Pharaoh.

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            Parashat Vaera begins with God's response to Moshe's complaint voiced in the final verses in Parashat Shemot, where Moshe charges that God only made things worse for Benei Yisrael by having him confront Pharaoh.  Recall that after Moshe's demand that Pharaoh free the slaves, Pharaoh decided to intensify their workload, withholding from them the raw materials they needed to produce bricks, such that they would have to scatter about in search of straw.  In Parashat Vaera, God speaks to Moshe and orders him to come to Benei Yisrael and reiterate the divine promise of redemption and their national renewal in their ancestral homeland.

            The Torah then records Benei Yisrael's response: "Moshe spoke this to Benei Yisrael, but they did not listen to Moshe, due to shortness of spirit and hard work" (6:9).  This cold response to Moshe's promises contrasts sharply with the nation's reaction when Moshe initially approached them to herald the dawn of redemption: "The nation believed; and they listened [= understood] that the Lord has taken note of Benei Yisrael and that He has seen their torment; they kneeled and bowed" (4:31).

            At first glance, the explanation for their change of heart seems self-evident: Moshe's leadership had so far been a dismal failure.  They had pinned their hopes and dreams upon Moshe's campaign against Pharaoh, and in the end it achieved only more pain and suffering.  However, the Torah's wording in this verse might suggest otherwise.  The Torah attributes their response to "shortness of spirit and hard work," which seems not quite equivalent to frustration and disillusionment.  It appears that the nation's rejection of Moshe stemmed not from the disappointment over the results of his previous attempt, but rather directly from the harsh conditions they currently endured.

            Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky, in Emet Le-Yaakov, suggests an explanation based on a Midrashic tradition (Shemot Rabba 5:11) that Benei Yisrael were excused from labor on Shabbat, which they utilized as an opportunity for Torah study.  Leaving aside the question of what kind of material was available to them for study (earlier in Emet Le-Yaakov, Rav Kaminetzky develops a fascinating theory on this issue), we can imagine that this "weekend" was of immense emotional value to Benei Yisrael.  It afforded them the opportunity to find meaning and comfort in their otherwise cheerless lives, and perhaps also reminded them of their national destiny and the promises of a brighter future.  Rav Kaminetzky speculates that the added responsibility of searching for straw forced the slaves into a seven-day workweek.  As we read towards the end of Parashat Shemot, Pharaoh demanded the same rate of brick production, but imposed conditions that required twice the time and work to produce a brick.  We might therefore reasonably assume that the extra workload came at the expense of the weekly day of rest.

            For this reason, Rav Yaakov suggests, Benei Yisrael could not listen to Moshe.  Their spirits were crushed not because of the disappointment, but because they lost their weekly Shabbat, the one day a week they had to engage their minds and hearts in matters of spiritual meaning and substance.  Without their day of study, they could no longer think about a land flowing with milk and honey, divine promises to the patriarchs, or a national destiny as God's nation.  Under the incessant pressure of the taskmasters' whips, the slaves now lost sight of anything beyond straw, cement and bricks.  They could not listen to Moshe, because they no longer had their Shabbat to refresh their collective sense of idealism and national mission.

            This function of Shabbat, as Rav Yaakov develops it, would presumably apply nowadays, as well.  All week long, we, too, are "slaves" in a certain sense of the word.  We are forced to exert ourselves, often for long hours and under pressured conditions, to earn our keep.  Shabbat provides us with the vital opportunity to take a step back and consider what our priorities are and what the meaning is behind all our hard work.  In addition, as was the case in Egypt, on Shabbat we look forward with our idealistic vision to a far better world, an anticipation that is necessary to help us confront the challenges and pressures that await us during the coming week.

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            Yesterday, we discussed the verse in Parashat Vaera (6:9) that tells of the nation's response to Moshe's reassurances of their imminent redemption: "Moshe spoke this to Benei Yisrael, but they did not listen to Moshe, due to shortness of spirit and hard work."  Today we will explore another possible explanation as to what precisely prevented Moshe's message from penetrating the hearts and minds of Benei Yisrael.

            The Midrash Lekach Tov comments on this verse, "Melamed she-ka'as mesaleik et ha-da'at" ("This teaches that anger eliminates reason").  The Midrash here appears to explain that rationally, the people should have heeded Moshe's call for optimism.  Despite the setback they suffered with Pharaoh's decree that the slaves would have to obtain their own straw, they should have nonetheless acknowledged Moshe as the Almighty's messenger to bring them to slavery and looked forward to freedom.  What prevented this reaction was their anger.  In the final verses of Parashat Shemot we read of the harsh criticism for Moshe and Aharon voiced by the Israelite overseers.  This likely echoed a general feeling of resentment among the nation at large.  Their anger towards Moshe and Aharon resulted in their denial of his message, regardless of how otherwise rationally compelling his message was.

            Many of us can easily identify with the kind of phenomenon indicated by the Lekach Tov.  Very often, personal feelings of resentment – as well as feelings of jealousy – towards a person result in an unwillingness to learn from, or accept the advice or instruction offered by, that individual.  When somebody hears a compelling argument from somebody whom he dislikes, he will – in many instances – oppose the argument purely because of those negative, personal feelings.  "Anger eliminates reason."  Benei Yisrael were to have listened to and been inspired by Moshe's reassurances, but they refused because of their feelings of resentment.  We must ensure not to allow personal feelings stand in the way of reason, and to acknowledge sound reasoning and useful information even when it comes from an individual towards whom we harbor negative feelings.

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            Our last two discussions have focused on the verse in Parashat Vaera which describes Benei Yisrael's negative response to Moshe's promise of redemption: "Moshe spoke this to Benei Yisrael, but they did not listen to Moshe, due to shortness of spirit and hard work" (6:9).  Today we will examine the explanation for Benei Yisrael's dismissal of Moshe's reassurances given by the Mekhilta: "They found it difficult to withdraw from idolatry…"  Based on an informative chapter in Sefer Yechezkel (chapter 20), the Mekhilta writes that Benei Yisrael (or at least many among Benei Yisrael) had embraced the idolatrous beliefs and practices of Egypt, and it was on this point that "they did not listen to Moshe."

            The Mekhilta's explanation, of course, forces us to reconsider the message that Moshe had brought o Benei Yisrael and that they had rejected.  Apparently, the Mekhilta understood that Moshe did not merely present to them God's promise of freedom; he hinged this promise on their acceptance of the Almighty's authority.  Many commentators have suggested that it is to this command that God referred when He declared, "And I shall take you to Me as a nation, and I shall be for you a God; and you will know that I am the Lord your God who has released you from the suffering of Egypt" (6:7).  In this verse God instructs Benei Yisrael to become His nation, which obviously entails rejecting the pagan practices of the native Egyptians.  And on this point, according to the Mekhilta, Benei Yisrael did not listen to Moshe.  Excited as they may have been over the prospect of national freedom and sovereignty in their homeland, they were not prepared to make the religious commitment necessary to realize those dreams.

            At first glance, however, it seems difficult to reconcile this reading with the wording of the verse, which tells that Benei Yisrael rejected Moshe "due to shortness of spirit and hard work."  How does this description of their response accommodate the Mekhilta's understanding, that they refused Moshe's call to repentance?

            A partial answer emerges from Targum Yonatan's translation of avoda kasha ("hard work"), as pulchana nukhra'a – foreign worship.  Targum Yonatan understood that the word avoda denotes religious worship – as in "avoda zara" – such that it can indeed refer to religious resistance to Moshe's call.  As for the first phrase – kotzer ru'ach ("shortness of spirit") – this could be interpreted to mean the lack of resolve and emotional wherewithal to change.  Moshe's demand entailed a fundamental transformation of the people's orientation, for which they simply lacked the ru'ach – the emotional resolve – to undergo.

            Some writers have commented that this interpretation helps resolve a difficulty that troubled many concerning a comment by Moshe recorded several verses later.  Immediately following Benei Yisrael's cold response to Moshe, we read that God instructs Moshe to return to Pharaoh and demand the slaves' release.  Moshe asks the Almighty, "If Benei Yisrael did not listen to me, how will Pharaoh listen to me?" (6:12).  As many writers have noted, the logic of Moshe's objection seems fundamentally flawed.  Benei Yisrael refused to listen to Moshe because of "shortness of spirit and hard work," a factor that obviously did not apply to Pharaoh.  Why, then, would their negative response suggest to Moshe that the king would most assuredly refuse to listen?

            According to the Mekhilta, however, the answer is clear.  Benei Yisrael refused to accept God's authority – despite their ancestral tradition of belief in God – because of their affinity for Egyptian paganism.  Moshe therefore felt all the more hopeless in attempting to persuade Pharaoh to submit to divine authority and allow Benei Yisrael to leave.