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PARASHAT BO

By Rav David Silverberg

            In Parashat Bo we read of the instructions Moshe conveyed to the people in preparation for the night of the Exodus.  Benei Yisrael were required to slaughter a sheep and, using a bundle of hyssop branches, smear some of the sheep's blood on the sides and lintel of the doorpost.  The meat of the sheep was then eaten as the paschal sacrifice on the night of the fifteenth of Nissan.

            The Midrashic translation Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel to this section (12:22) writes that the blood of the paschal sacrifice was to be collected specifically in an earthenware utensil.  Although the verses make no mention of the kind of utensil required for this ritual, Targum Yonatan was of the opinion that Benei Yisrael were to use specifically an earthenware vessel to collect the blood.  This view of Targum Yonatan sharpens the parallel that exists between this ritual and the process of taharat ha-bayit, the purification of a house that had been stricken with tzara'at.  As we read in Parashat Metzora (Vayikra 14:49-51), that ritual required slaughtering a bird and collecting its blood in an earthenware receptacle.  Then, a bundle of hyssop – together with a number of other items – is dipped into the blood and sprinkled towards the infected house.  If, indeed, as Targum Yonatan held, an earthenware utensil was required during the pesach ritual, as well, then these two contexts – the smearing of blood on the doorposts in Egypt and the purification of the house with tzara'at – resemble one another even more closely than we might have at first thought.

            The Meshekh Chokhma suggests that this parallel reflects the "spiritual cleansing" of the home that the pesach ritual was intended to achieve.  Indeed, as Chazal famously comment to the opening verse of this section ("mishkhu u-k'khu lakhem" – 12:21), Moshe began his presentation of these laws by admonishing the people to withdraw from the pagan practices to which they had grown accustomed in Egypt.  It thus stands to reason that the guidelines he then proceeds to outline concerning the paschal ritual were intended to serve as part of the nation's process of "purification" from the "impurity" of paganism.  By smearing the blood of the korban pesach on their doorposts, Benei Yisrael were to symbolically cleanse and purify their homes from pagan beliefs and norms, much like the tzara'at-infected home was cleansed by the blood of the slaughtered bird.

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            Parashat Bo contains the famous commandment, "Ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim" (12:2), which establishes the springtime month of Nissan, the month of the Exodus, as the first of the twelve months of the Hebrew calendar.

            One common explanation given for this imperative involves the symbolic representations of the months of Tishrei – the month in which (it is generally assumed) the world was created – and Nissan – the month of the Exodus.  Tishrei represents the natural order, the systematic progression of events as they unfold through natural forces.  Nissan, by contrast, symbolizes God's intervention in, and unlimited power over, world affairs, as manifest most clearly by the miraculous events surrounding yetzi'at Mitzrayim.  By marking the new year as beginning with the month of Nissan (with respect to certain laws, as discussed towards the beginning of Masekhet Rosh Hashanah), we express our awareness of the supremacy of the quality of Nissan over that of Tishrei, that even when events appear to run along a purely natural course, they are actually governed and orchestrated directly by the Almighty.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests a different symbolic explanation for the designation of the month of the Exodus as the first month of the Jewish year.  In the natural world, the mighty tread upon the weak; in the plant and animal kingdoms, it is the more powerful creatures that survive, usually at the expense of the weaker ones.  In human life, unfortunately, this is likewise often the trend.  Men of power have often abused and imposed their will upon the disadvantaged, forcing them to serve their own self-aggrandizing interests and help them fulfill their personal desires.  Among the critical lessons conveyed through the story of yetzi'at Mitzrayim was that mankind is to rise above this innate tendency and respect the rights and dignity of all people.  Whereas in nature it is expected that the powerful survive and succeed on the backs of the weak, among human beings this must not be.  To a large extent, Rav Ginsburg claims, the confrontation between Moshe and Pharaoh represented the clash of these two conflicting ideologies.  Pharaoh saw it as his nation's natural, god-given right to abuse and oppress a poor, slave nation, while Moshe insisted upon the individual rights and freedoms of all people.  By pointing to Nissan, rather than Tishrei, as the first month of the year, the Jewish people declare their allegiance to this theme of the Exodus.  We do not live by the system represented by Tishrei, the system of natural law where the mighty abuse the frail; we are rather committed to the message of Nissan, recognizing the respect and dignity owed to all creatures on earth.

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            In his presentation of the laws of korban pesach to Benei Yisrael, Moshe foresees the time when "your children will say to you: What is this service to you?" ("Ma ha-avoda ha-zot lakhem" – 12:26).  Moshe instructs parents to inform their children of how God spared their ancestors the deadly plague of the firstborn that He brought upon Egypt when freeing Benei Yisrael on the night of the Exodus.

            The Mekhilta cites one view that interprets this verse as an ominous prediction of a time when ignorance of tradition will run rampant among the Jewish people: "Inauspicious tidings were conveyed to Israel at that time – that the Torah will one day in the future be forgotten."  According to this view, the specter of children asking their parents to explain to them the significance underlying the paschal ritual means the disappearance of Torah knowledge, the advent of widespread ignorance of tradition to the point where the meaning behind the most basic laws and customs will be forgotten.

            Rav Yehuda Altman, in his work Yam Shel Yehuda (Europe, 1926), suggested that this interpretation of the Mekhilta is perhaps based upon the Torah's use of the word avoda in this verse in reference to the korban pesach ritual.  Although the term avoda means "service" or "ritual," it also has a clear association with taxing, tiresome, onerous work.  In fact, this word appears on several occasions in reference to Benei Yisrael's slave labor in Egypt (e.g. va-ya'avidu – 1:13; avoda kasha – 1:14; min ha-avoda – 2:23), and the Hebrew word for slave, of course, is eved.  Thus, according to the Mekhilta, the scene depicted by the Torah of a child asking his parents "Ma ha-avoda ha-zot lakhem" refers to a child who sees his parents burdened by religious observance.  He senses that they approach their religious duties as nothing more than that – duties, obligations, responsibilities – and not as a privilege and source of joy and fulfillment.  He thus understandably asks, "What is this avoda to you?"

            When this happens, Rav Altman explains, Am Yisrael runs the risk "that the Torah will one day be forgotten."  If parents fail to show zeal and enthusiasm in their mitzva observance, and approach it purely as an avoda, then their children are likely to question the need for this observance – "Ma ha-avoda ha-zot lakhem" – rather than embrace it.

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            After Moshe conveys to Benei Yisrael the laws and guidelines relevant to the night of the Exodus, as recorded in Parashat Bo, he proceeds to instruct that this paschal ritual is to be observed each year in commemoration of this event: "It shall be, when you enter into the land that the Lord will give you, as He has spoken, you shall observe this service" (12:25).

            Rav Menachem Kasher, in his Torah Sheleima (chapter 12, #470), cites a passage from a manuscript of the Midrash Ha-bi'ur which comments on this verse, "The paschal offering is observed only in the Land [of Israel], and during the time of the avoda [sacrificial service]."  This Midrash infers from the verse – "when you enter into the land…you shall observe this service" – that the obligation of korban pesach came into effect as an eternal obligation only after Benei Yisrael's entry into Eretz Yisrael.  Although God ordered the nation to observe the pesach ritual at Mount Sinai, the Midrash Ha-bi'ur likely understood that command as a unique, one-time observance, that was not required by the standard rules and conditions of the korban pesach.

            But in addition, the Midrash Ha-bi'ur restricts the obligation of korban pesach to "the time of the avoda."  Rav Kasher suggests that the Midrash inferred this condition from the fact that the Torah here refers to the korban pesach with the term avoda – a term we do not find used in reference to any other particular korban.  This term is generally used in reference to the Temple service generally, but not to any specific sacrifice.  The Midrash Ha-bi'ur thus understood from this verse that the korban pesach is unique in that it is deemed an avoda, and it applies only when the Temple service generally is observed.

            Rav Kasher (in his milu'im to volume 12, #6) points to this Midrash as an important source regarding the issue that arose on a number of occasions in recent Jewish history concerning the possibility of offering the korban pesach nowadays.  The Mishna in Masekhet Eduyot (8:6) cites testimony to the fact that "makrivin af al pi she-ein sham bayit" – that sacrifices are offered even not in the presence of the Mikdash.  This halakha is codified by the Rambam (Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira 6:14-15), who emphasizes that it applies to "all the korbanot."  From the aforementioned passage in Midrash Ha-bi'ur, however, a different view emerges, which distinguishes between the korban pesach and other sacrifices.  Even if other sacrifices may be offered after the Temple's destruction (assuming, of course, that the many other conditions for sacrificing are met), the korban pesach applies only during the time of the Beit Ha-mikdash.

            Rav Kasher cites a number of other indications to this effect, including the text of the Haggadah, in which we read: "The pesach that our forefathers would eat at the time when the Temple stood…"  Curiously, the Haggadah emphasizes that the korban pesach ritual was conducted specifically "at the time when the Temple stood."  Rav Kasher speculates that this emphasis is perhaps intended as a reference to the condition that the Beit Ha-mikdash be standing for the obligation of korban pesach to apply.  Even if, in principle, other sacrifices may be offered in the absence of the Mikdash, the korban pesach cannot be offered in the post-Temple era.

            As mentioned earlier, however, this view is not universally accepted; as noted, the Rambam writes explicitly that "all the sacrifices" may be offered (at least in principle) even after the Temple's destruction.

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            Amidst the laws of Pesach presented in Parashat Bo, we find the prohibition against performing melakha (forbidden activity) on Yom Tov: "On the first day [of Pesach] there shall be a sacred occasion, and on the seventh day there shall be for you a sacred occasion; no melakha shall be performed on them" (12:16).  Rashi, commenting on the words "no melakha shall be performed on them," writes (based on the Mekhilta), "even through others."  It appears that according to Rashi's understanding, the Torah here forbids on Yom Tov not only performing melakha oneself, but even summoning gentiles to perform melakha on one's behalf.

            As the Ramban and others have noted, this does not appear to be the commonly accepted approach towards the prohibition known as amira le-nokhri, or asking a gentile to perform melakha on one's behalf on Shabbat or Yom Tov.  It is almost universally accepted in the world of Halakha that this prohibition was enacted by the Sages as a safeguard of one sort or another, and does not represent Torah law.  The Torah prohibitions of Shabbat and Yom Tov forbid only the actual performance of melakha, and do not include asking non-Jews to perform melakha on one's behalf, which became forbidden later by force of Rabbinic enactment.

            Rav Baruch Yitzchak Yissachar Leventhal, in his Birkat Yitzchak, suggests a number of novel readings of Rashi's comment to reconcile it with – or at least bring it closer to – the accepted Halakha concerning the status of amira le-nokhri.  Firstly, he suggests that Rashi perhaps refers specifically to requesting melakha from one's eved kena'ani (non-Jewish servant).  Just as a Jew is obligated to prevent his gentile servants from performing melakha on Shabbat, so must he ensure that they desist from melakha on Yom Tov.  Although requesting melakha from gentiles generally is permitted according to Torah law, and was proscribed only later, by Chazal, instructing one's servant to perform melakha on his behalf constitutes a Torah violation, and Rashi perhaps viewed this verse as the Biblical source for this halakha.

            Secondly, Rav Leventhal speculates that Rashi may have distinguished in this regard between asking and hiring.  He draws our attention to a ruling of the Machaneh Efrayim that makes such a distinction with regard to the concept of shelichut, the halakhic equivalent of power of attorney, as it applies to gentiles.  A general halakhic rule establishes that ein shelichut le-akum – a Jew cannot designate a gentile as his legal shali'ach (agent, or representative), such as to perform an acquisition on his behalf.  Nevertheless, the Machaneh Efrayim contended that if a Jew hires a gentile to serve as his agent, then Halakha recognizes the gentile's status as shali'ach and he can function as the Jew's agent just as if the Jew had designated another Jew as his shali'ach.  Rashi perhaps accepted this theory and interpreted this verse in Parashat Bo as extending it to Yom Tov (as well as, presumably, to Shabbat).  Namely, according to Rashi, even though asking or instructing a gentile to perform melakha on one's behalf is permitted by Torah law, hiring a gentile to perform melakha constitutes a Torah violation.  When Rashi forbids performing melakha "even through others," he refers to hiring gentiles to perform melakha on one's behalf, which, given the gentile employee's status as his legal "agent," is deemed equivalent to his personal performance of the given melakha.

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            The final two sections of Parashat Bo both present the mitzva of tefillin and are included among the four parashiyot that are contained within the tefillin that we wear upon our arms and heads.  The Gemara in Masekhet Menachot (37a) famously observes a peculiarity in the second of these references to tefillin, in the final verse of Parashat Bo: "Ve-haya le-ot al yadekha…" ("It shall be a sign upon your arm").  The word yadekha ("your arm"), which is normally spelled yod-dalet-khof, is spelled here with an extra letter hei at the end.  According to one view in the Gemara, this spelling is intended as an allusion to the words yad keiha, or "weak arm," and thus serves as the Biblical source for the requirement to wear tefillin specifically on one's weaker arm.  Most people therefore wear tefillin on their left arm, whereas those who are left-handed don tefillin on their right arm.

            One might wonder why the Torah chose to introduce this halakha specifically in this context, as opposed to any of the other three sections that are worn in the tefillin.  Why is the requirement of yad keiha particularly appropriate for this section, more so than the other three?

            The Rosh Yeshiva, HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein shlit"a (see www.etzion.org.il/vbm/archive/6-sichot/bo.php), suggested an approach by noting a subtle distinction between the two final sections of Parashat Bo, the first two of the four parashiyot of tefillin.  In both sections, Moshe speaks of the time when Benei Yisrael would enter the lands of their patriarchs: "It shall be when the Lord will bring you into the land of the Canaanites…that He has promised to your patriarchs..." (13:5); "It shall be when the Lord will bring you into the land of the Canaanites, as He promised you and your patriarchs…"  However, as Rav Lichtenstein observed, these two sections appear to address two different stages in the process of settling the land.  In the second section, Moshe concludes his introduction with the words "u-netana lakh" – "and He gives it to you" – which might suggest that he refers to the time after Benei Yisrael's successful conquest and settlement of Canaan.  In the first section, Moshe speaks only of God's promise to give Canaan to Benei Yisrael, without adding "and He gives it to you."  Seemingly, the first section addresses the stage when Benei Yisrael are still in the process of "receiving" the land, before they have achieved a sense of stability and permanence.  In the second section, by contrast, Moshe speaks of the time when Benei Yisrael were already "given" the land, when they can already feel that it is theirs, their permanent homeland, a stable and developed country that offers them a sense of security and permanence.

            It is particularly in this final stage, after the nation has established stability, that the message of yad keiha becomes critical.  Placing the tefillin on one's weaker hand likely serves as a reminder of the limitations of human strength, that our capabilities are always restricted.  Regardless of how much we achieve, there is always more than we are unable to achieve.  During the early stages of settlement in the Land of Israel, when Benei Yisrael still very much sensed their dependence on the Almighty and experienced firsthand His miraculous intervention, this message is self-understood.  But once the campaign concluded successfully, and Benei Yisrael rooted themselves in their homeland and developed a prosperous country, the risk of arrogance and exaggerated self-reliance began to surface.  It is at this point when Moshe must emphasize the eternal message of yad keiha, the reminder of our own limitations and our constant dependence on God's assistance in all our endeavors.

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            Towards the end of Parashat Bo (13:12), the Torah introduces the mitzva of pidyon ha-ben, the obligation to symbolically "redeem" one's firstborn son (by paying a sum of money to a kohen).  The Torah explains the ritual as a commemoration of the plague of the firstborn in Egypt, when God spared the firstborn of Benei Yisrael from the deathly plague: "It happened that when Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us free, the Lord killed every firstborn in the land of Egypt… Therefore, I sacrifice to the Lord every first issue of the womb among male [animals], and all firstborn of my children I shall redeem" (13:15).

            If, indeed, the pidyon ha-ben obligation serves to commemorate the plague of the firstborn, one might ask why it applies only to the "first issue of the womb," meaning, the firstborn of a woman.  If a man fathers his first child with a woman with older children from a previous marriage, he is not required to perform a pidyon ha-ben.  In Egypt, however, as the Gemara explicitly comments in Masekhet Bava Metzia (61b), God killed even the firstborn of every man, children born to mothers with older children.  How might we explain this discrepancy between the definition of "bekhor" (firstborn) with regard to the plague of the firstborn, and with respect to pidyon ha-ben?

            Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his work Avnei Shoham, attempts to resolve this question by advancing a novel approach to the underlying theme and message of pidyon ha-ben.  In essence, he argues, pidyon ha-ben serves a function similar to its agricultural counterpart, the obligation to bring bikkurim – one's first fruits – to the kohen in the Mikdash.  Both mitzvot serve to remind the individual that all his blessings – including agricultural success and children – have been granted to him by the Almighty, and were not achieved solely by his own efforts and initiative.  When a child is born, the parents are to remind themselves of makat bekhorot, the night when God killed all the Egyptian firstborn and spared the Israelite children.  The parents are to look upon their firstborn child as their ancestors did on the night of the Exodus, recognizing that God has performed a wondrous miracle in blessing them with a child.  Just as in Egypt parents sensed very clearly God's hand in sparing their child, so must parents in every generation feel a profound sense of humble gratitude to the Almighty for granting them a child.

            Rav Shachor speculates that for this reason, perhaps, the mitzva of pidyon ha-ben applies only under normal, natural circumstances.  In the case of a Caesarean delivery, for example, no pidyon ha-ben is required.  The reason, Rav Shachor suggests, is that when complications arise, no reminder is necessary of the Almighty's involvement.  It is only when a child is delivered under "normal" conditions that parents require this reminder that blessings such as these must not be taken for granted, and that they must acknowledge and feel grateful for what they have received.

            Likewise, Rav Shachor adds, the pidyon ha-ben reminder is not required in situations where the mother has older children from a previous marriage.  In such a case, of a previous marriage that ended in death or divorce, when the road to the current, successful family life was a difficult and painful one, the pidyon ha-ben is unnecessary; the parents already know not to take life's blessings for granted.  Only in "normal" situations, when nothing out of the ordinary occurred along the road to parenthood, did the Torah demand the pidyon ha-ben ritual to remind the parents of the makkat bekhorot experience and the need to acknowledge the Almighty's role in their success.

            (One might wonder why, according to this theory, the Torah demanded a pidyon ha-ben in cases where the father has children from a previous marriage, if his child is the firstborn to his mother.  In this case, too, the father's road to parenthood was "abnormal," just as in the reverse situation.  The likely answer is that in ancient times men could marry several wives, and thus children from a previous marriage did not necessarily signify a previous unsuccessful marriage.)