The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion


PARASHAT BO

By Rav David Silverberg

 

 

MOTZAEI

            Parashat Bo tells the story of makat bekhorot, the death of the Egyptians' firstborn, which marked the tenth and final plague that God visited upon Egypt.  Benei Yisrael were instructed the slaughter a lamb before the night of the plague, and place some of the animal's blood on the doorpost.  They were then to partake of the animal's meat and remain in their homes throughout the night, as the plague ravaged through the country, until morning.

            The Torah gives little information as to how Benei Yisrael spent this night of the Exodus.  We know that, as mentioned, they were instructed to remain at home throughout the night (12:22), and to partake of the paschal sacrifice with their shoes on their feet and walking sticks in hand, ready to depart (12:11).  We are not told, however, what kind of atmosphere prevailed among Benei Yisrael on this night, and how they spent their time as they anticipated their imminent departure from Egypt.

            Talmidei Rabbenu Yona in Masekhet Berakhot (2b) comment that Benei Yisrael spent this night praying to be saved from the devastating plague.  They understood that the "destroyer" (12:23) was unleashed to slay the Egyptian firstborn, and it was only through Benei Yisrael's special merit that they earned protection from this death.   Talmidei Rabbenu Yona write that as is often the case with righteous individuals, Benei Yisrael did not feel confident in their worthiness, and thus feared that they might be affected by the deadly plague.  They therefore spent the night in heartfelt, tearful prayer and repentance, beseeching the Almighty to allow them to survive this frightening experience.

            Talmidei Rabbenu Yona make this comment to explain the Talmud's discussion in Masekhet Berakhot (4b) concerning the berakha of hashkivenu, which we recite just before the amida prayer during the arvit service.  The Gemara addresses the requirement of semikhat ge'ula li-tfila, to discuss the theme of ge'ula, redemption, just before one begins the amida prayer.  The recitation of hashkivenu, a prayer for general peace and well-being, comes in between the section of "Emet Ve-emuna Kol Zot," which gives praise to God for the miracles of the Exodus, and the amida prayer.  Seemingly, then, this recitation constitutes a violation of the rule of semikhat ge'ula li-tfila.  The Gemara resolves this difficulty by commenting, "Since the Rabbis instituted [the recitation of] hashkivenu, it is like an 'extended ge'ula'."  Somehow, the Gemara sees hashkivenu as an extension of "Emet Ve-emuna," a continuation of the development of the "redemption" theme.  Talmidei Rabbenu Yona explain that the Sages instituted hashkivenu to commemorate Benei Yisrael's prayers on the night of the Exodus.  We pray for a safe, peaceful night just as Benei Yisrael prayed for safety as the deadly plague descended upon Egypt.  Understandably, then, hashkivenu constitutes a natural continuation of "Emet Ve-emuna," our recounting of the Exodus, as it commemorates the prayers offered by Benei Yisrael on the night they achieved their freedom.

            Rav Yosef Salant, in his Be'er Yosef (vol. 2, Inyanei Pesach), cites this comment of Talmidei Rabbenu Yona amidst his discussion of the origins and nature of Ta'anit Bekhorim, the custom for firstborn males to fast on Erev Pesach.  It stands to reason that the Israelite firstborn in particular experienced a sense of dread in anticipation of makat bekhorot, as they realized that only God's special protection could shield them from the plague that killed their Egyptian counterparts.  The Be'er Yosef thus speculates that the firstborn observed a day of fasting and prayer on the fourteenth of Nissan, the day prior to the Exodus, and thus, in commemoration, Jewish firstborns observe a fast on this day each year even today.  (The Be'er Yosef draws a parallel in this context between Ta'anit Bekhorim and the custom of Ta'anit Ester, the fast observed the day before Purim, which many explain as a commemoration of the fast the Jews observed before defending themselves from those who sought to fulfill Haman's edict.)

 

SUNDAY

 

            Upon hearing Moshe and Aharon's warning of the eighth plague, the plague of locusts, Pharaoh, as we read in Parashat Bo, expresses his willingness to allow some members of Benei Yisrael to go serve God in the wilderness.  However, when Moshe insists that the entire nation be granted permission to leave – adults, children and cattle – Pharaoh emphatically and cynically denies this request: "So may God be with you when I send you and your children; see that there is evil opposite you!  Not so – let the adult males go and serve the Lord, for this is what you request" (10:10-11).

            Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks, in his Menachem Tziyon, suggests a particularly novel interpretation of Pharaoh's response.  In his view, Pharaoh here presents himself as a caring, compassionate leader concerned for the safety and security of Benei Yisrael's children.  His sarcastic rejection of the request to include the children – "So may God be with you when I send you and your children" – should be read as, "Heaven forefend that I should allow the children to venture with you into the wilderness."  After all, as Pharaoh continues, "there is evil opposite you" – you seek to travel into the perilous conditions of the desert; this is no place for children.  Pharaoh states his willingness to allow the adults to go, because "this is what you request" – the adults have chosen to subject themselves to the harsh desert conditions.  But the parents, Pharaoh argues, have no right to force their chosen sacrifices upon their innocent, vulnerable children.

            Pharaoh did not give Moshe the opportunity to respond to his objection – "he chased them from Pharaoh's presence" – but we can easily imagine how Moshe would have responded.  It is our firm belief that there is no greater benefit that parents can provide for their children than leading them to the service to the Almighty, even if this entails their experiencing the "desert" – a degree of sacrifice in comfort and convenience.  Children must certainly be cared for with tenderness and concern for their physical well-being, but they must also be educated towards making the occasional sacrifices required for Torah observance.  Indeed, if God summons His people to the desert, if He calls upon us to forego on certain luxuries and comforts for the sake of religious devotion, then we bring our children, as well.  They, too, must be exposed to the beauty and value of avodat Hashem, and taught to accept the Torah upon themselves even under less than hospitable conditions.

 

MONDAY

 

            In advance of the tenth and final plague that God visited upon Egypt, the death of the firstborn, Moshe appears before Pharaoh to warn of the deadly plague: "Moshe said: So says God – at around midnight, I shall go out in Egypt, and every firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die" (11:4).  Rashi cites the famous passage in Masekhet Berakhot (4a) that notes the difference between Moshe's prediction and the narrative's description of the plague's onset in the next chapter: "At midnight, the Lord smote every firstborn in the land of Egypt…"  Whereas Moshe had predicted that the plague would unfold ka-chatzot ha-layla – "at around midnight" – in actuality the plague occurred ba-chatzi ha-layla – "at midnight."  The Gemara explained that Moshe intentionally avoided a precise prediction, out of concern that the Egyptian astronomers' calculation of midnight might not correspond with the actual moment of midnight.  Were Moshe to have predicted the plague's onset precisely at midnight, and the astronomers would have erroneously determined the occurrence of midnight to be several moments before or after the plague, they would have dismissed Moshe's prediction.  They would have cynically refuted his claims of authentic prophecy, noting the imprecision of his predictions.  Moshe therefore made a point of predicting that the event would occur "at around midnight," such that the veracity of his prophetic claims could not be challenged.

            Rav Moshe Feinstein, as cited in Kol Ram (vol. 3), pointed to Moshe's careful formulation as an example of the famous Rabbinic dictum, "Chakhamim hizaharu be-divreikhem" (Avot 1:11), which admonishes Rabbinic leaders to exercise caution in choosing their words.  Moshe here displayed profound foresight and detailed planning in formulating his public pronouncements.  This meticulous concern for how one speaks and the careful consideration of his words' repercussions sets an example of responsible speech that all leaders must follow.  Indeed, as Rav Moshe Feinstein added, this is a policy by which all people should endeavor to abide whenever they choose their words.

            It is perhaps worthwhile to take note of the nature of the people who Moshe suspected would misconstrue his statements.  Clearly, these astronomers pursued a squarely, preconceived "anti-Moshe" agenda, and were not driven by intellectual integrity.  Moshe had successfully predicted nine unusual – or supernatural – phenomena, yet if his tenth prediction would have materialized just two minutes off schedule, the astronomers would have been ready to dismiss him as a fraud.  It was in their and their country's best interests to keep Benei Yisrael and ignore Moshe's demands, and thus they seized even the remotest opportunities to discredit Moshe's prophecy by exposing perceived inaccuracies.

            What this demonstrates is that the exhortation of Chakhamim hizaharau be-divreikhem does not relate merely to the concern of innocent misunderstandings.  A leader must seek to avoid not only misinterpretation among his loyal followers, but also the intentional twisting of his remarks by hostile outsiders.  That these outsiders anxiously and maliciously await the opportunity to distort his comments does not absolve him of the responsibility to carefully weigh his words before speaking; to the contrary, it obliges him to exercise particular care and discretion.  Moshe saw it as his obligation to ensure not to provide fodder for the astronomers' cynicism; his attitude was not one of "I'm saying the truth, it doesn't matter what they think."  The responsibility to avoid disgrace to God and Torah requires their representatives to avoid comments that their relentless critics could cynically abuse in pursuing their sinister agenda.

            Moshe's careful choice of words brings to mind another famous passage in Rashi's commentary, concerning the striking physical resemblance between Avraham and Yitzchak.  Based on the Midrash, Rashi (Bereishit 25:19) writes that God created Yitzchak in his father's image to silence the leitzanei ha-dor – the cynics of the time – who claimed that Yitzchak was conceived when Sara was abducted by Avimelekh.  Here, too, we find a proactive effort to silence the scoffers, as opposed to the attitude of "I know I'm right, so let them say what they want."

            Torah Jews bear the responsibility to not only preserve the Torah, but also to preserve the image and reputation of the Torah, a responsibility that requires avoiding statements that could be turned against us by our critics.

 

TUESDAY

 

            The Torah describes the plague of locusts – the eighth of the plagues that God sent upon the Egyptians – as a phenomenon that had never been previously seen and will never again been repeated: "There had never previously been locusts like it, nor will there ever be like it again" (10:14).  The commentators note the apparent contradiction between this description and a verse in Sefer Yoel (2:2) which says about the onslaught of locusts during Yoel's time, "there has never been anything like it."  If the Torah foresaw that nothing resembling the locusts in Egypt will ever surface again, how could Yoel speak of the swarms of locusts in his time as a phenomenon without historical parallel?

            Rashi suggests that the verses here and in Sefer Yoel describe two different phenomena, both of which were unique and unparalleled.  The plague of locusts that struck Egypt consisted of but a single species of locust, and the Torah here tells that never again would so many of this single species descend at one time upon a country.  During Yoel's time, however, four different species of locusts invaded the Land of Israel.  That assault was unprecedented in terms of the sheer number of invaders, but the number of any of the four species of locusts did not exceed the number of the single species of locusts that swarmed upon Egypt.

            The Ramban rejects Rashi's approach, citing two verses in Sefer Tehillim (78:46, 105:34) that employ different terms in reference to the locusts in Egypt, which would indicate that a number of different species invaded Egypt just as they did during Yoel's time.  Therefore, the Ramban suggests a different approach, claiming that these verses refer only to natural locust infestations.  When the Torah foresaw that no future swarm of locusts would ever rival the eighth plague that God visited upon Egypt, it did not preclude the possibility of a supernatural phenomenon sent directly by God Himself as announced by a prophet.  It rather meant that the plague of locusts in Egypt exceeded all "natural" occurrences of locust swarms that the world would ever again see.  (Needless to say, given the fundamental belief that even "natural" occurrences are brought about by God – a concept that the Ramban himself develops at length elsewhere – this distinction requires some further clarification.)

            Rabbenu Chananel, as the Ramban cites, claimed that the Torah refers here only to the land of Egypt.  It foresees that Egypt would never again experience the kind of invasion of locusts it suffered during the time of Moshe, but other countries might, indeed, witness even more severe infestations.  The locust invasion during Yoel's time surpassed the plague that God brought upon Egypt, but that invasion was limited to Eretz Yisrael.  The Torah was thus correct in establishing that the plague in Egypt would never repeat itself, since it referred only to locust invasions in the land of Egypt itself.

            The Chatam Sofer suggested a different resolution.  Swarms of locusts invade only areas with large amounts of produce available for consumption.  Thus, when the prophet Yoel describes the invasion that occurred during his time, he emphasizes that the land was originally "like Gan Eden" and thereafter became "a desolate desert" (Yoel 2:3).  In this sense, the plague of locusts delivered upon Egypt has no historical parallel.  This plague of locusts followed the plague of hail, which decimated much of the country's agriculture.  Even though certain species survived the hail (9:32), the remaining crops were hardly enough to attract large swarms of locusts.  Thus, although the swarm during Yoel's time surpassed the locusts of Egypt in number, the locust invasion in Egypt was more miraculous, given the limited resources that remained after the hailstorm.

 

WEDNESDAY

 

            We read in Parashat Bo the story of the ninth plague that God brought upon the Egyptians – a thick darkness that enveloped the country for three days while Benei Yisrael enjoyed normal sunlight (10:22-23).  Rashi, in his commentary here (10:22) as well as in Parashat Beshalach (13:18), cites a view from the Midrash that during the plague of darkness many among Benei Yisrael died.  As the Midrash Shemot Rabba (14:3) comments, there were members of Benei Yisrael who had earned the favor and goodwill of the Egyptians and thereby enjoyed wealth and prestige in Egypt.  These Israelites had no interest in leaving the country, and God punished them for their betrayal.  He killed them specifically during the plague of darkness so that the Egyptians would not mistakenly think that the plagues brought upon them affected also the Hebrew slaves.

            The Chatam Sofer, perhaps based on another Midrashic tradition, presents a different account.  He writes that certain members of Benei Yisrael, anticipating the plague of darkness, planned to seize this opportunity to maim or kill their Egyptian adversaries, seize their possessions and then quickly leave the country.  The onset of darkness allowed Benei Yisrael to do as they wished, to exact revenge from their long-time nemeses and then depart.  God intervened and foiled this plan by killing those members of the nation who had intended to avenge their suffering from the Egyptians during the plague of darkness.

            What this version of the story perhaps emphasizes is that Yetzi'at Mitzrayim was geared towards a loftier goal than merely allowing the slaves to go free.  It was imperative for Benei Yisrael to recognize that this entire sequence of events entailed far more than an oppressed people who demanded their legitimate right to freedom and self-determination.  Yetzi'at Mitzrayim was about leaving the service of Pharaoh in order to become the faithful servants of the Almighty.  Had certain members of the nation been allowed to initiate a process of vengeance and then take leave of the country, this would have undermined the entire purpose and nature of the Exodus.  Benei Yisrael had to remain in Egypt – as slaves – until God instructed them to leave, in order that they understand that they are leaving Egyptian bondage for the sole purpose of entering His service.

            This might also explain the command later in this parasha requiring Benei Yisrael to remain in their homes throughout the night during the plague of the firstborn – "and none of you shall leave the doorway of his house until morning" (12:22).  As the Egyptians grieved over their firstborn, Benei Yisrael were perhaps given the opportunity to escape.  However, the Almighty insisted that they remain in their homes and make no attempt to leave until morning.  In this way, He hoped to impress upon them that they are not leaving Egypt into "freedom" in the absolute sense, but rather emerging from Egyptian slavery to become the beloved, cherished servants of their Creator.

 

THURSDAY

 

We read in Parashat Bo that just prior to the Exodus from Egypt, Benei Yisrael approached their Egyptian neighbors and requested their precious possessions, as God had commanded (12:35; see also 11:2).  The Torah then tells, "The Lord had placed the nation's favor in the eyes of the Egyptians, and they emptied Egypt" (12:36).  As God had promised Moshe already in Midyan (3:21), He saw to it that the Egyptians would look upon their former slaves with chen – goodwill – and graciously hand them their possessions.

            The Mekhilta, commenting on this verse, cites a number of different opinions in explaining the precise intent of the word chen as used in reference to the Egyptians' response to the Israelites.  Rabbi Yishmael understood this verse to mean that the Egyptians offered their goods to Benei Yisrael even before the request was made.  As soon as the Israelite would arrive at the door, the Egyptian would immediately offer his possessions before any word was spoken.  Rabbi Yossi explained differently: "They trusted them since the three days of darkness, for they said: If at the time when we were in darkness and they were in light they were not suspected, now will we suspect them?"  Apparently, Rabbi Yossi understood that Benei Yisrael were told to ask to borrow, and not take, the Egyptians' possessions, as though they intended to later return them.  (Indeed, this is the straightforward meaning of the verb sh.a.l. used in this context.)  The chen that God implanted within the hearts of the Egyptians refers to the trust Benei Yisrael earned when they refrained from seizing the Egyptians' property during the plague of darkness.  When the plague ended, and the Egyptians saw that their property was intact despite the fact that the plague did not affect the Israelites, they became trusting of Benei Yisrael and thus gladly agreed to lend them their wares on the assumption that they would be returned.

            The third opinion cited is that of Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov, who interpreted the word chen in this context as a reference to ru'ach ha-kodesh – divine intuition.  God endowed Benei Yisrael with quasi-prophetic knowledge of the Egyptians' belongings, such that when they approached the Egyptians to ask for their goods, they knew exactly which valuables to ask for and where they were hidden.  Finally, Rabbi Natan explained this verse to mean that the Egyptians offered more than what Benei Yisrael requested.  An Israelite would request one item, and the Egyptian would immediately agree and then offer a second.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary, suggests a slight variation of the approach of Rabbi Yossi cited in the Mekhilta.  Whereas Rabbi Yossi claimed that the Israelites' integrity during three days of darkness earned them the Egyptians' trust, Rav Hirsch suggests that this experience earned Benei Yisrael the Egyptians' respect and admiration: "The honesty and magnanimity which the Jews displayed during the three days of darkness had so raised the opinion of the Egyptians towards Israel, that they pressed their possessions upon them before they asked, and stripped themselves of their treasures."  After the plague of darkness, the Egyptians were enamored by Benei Yisrael who refrained from seizing their oppressors' possessions even when the opportunity presented itself.  It was thus out of admiration and reverence towards Benei Yisrael that the Egyptians showered them with wealth before the nation's departure.

            Rabbi Asher Vale, writing for the Orthodox Union's "Torah Insights" project (https://www.ou.org/torah/ti/5758/bo58.htm), makes the following comment concerning Rav Hirsch's approach this verse:

 

There are numerous ways in which we Jews can make a favorable impression upon the gentile world in which we live. Examples abound of Jews who have excelled in the arts and sciences. In the financial realm, too, many Jews have been extremely successful….

We learn from the experience of our ancestors, however, that our ability to be morally superior is what most impresses others. Our chayn, the sweetness and charm of the Jewish people, is our best feature.

 

This experience instructs that the most effective and meaningful way for Am Yisrael to win the favor and admiration of other peoples is through integrity and decency, by adhering to highest and strictest ethical standards in all areas of our lives.

 

FRIDAY

 

            Yesterday we mentioned a number of different approaches taken in explaining the Torah's description in Parashat Bo of the "chen" – "charm," or goodwill – that the Egyptians displayed to Benei Yisrael just prior to the Exodus.  As God had commanded (11:2), Benei Yisrael approached their Egyptian neighbors before the Exodus and asked for their belongings.  The Torah writes that the Almighty "placed the nation's favor in the eyes of the Egyptians" (12:36) who willingly gave them their possessions.  Yesterday, we cited different interpretations of this verse from the Mekhilta and the commentary of Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch.

            A much different approach is taken by Shadal:

 

For when the Egyptians saw the great plagues and wonders that came upon them by the word of Moshe because of Israel, they began to recognize Israel's stature, that they have a mighty God who delivers [them], and they began to understand their criminal conduct toward them and that Israel are also human beings like them.  For, indeed, this is the tendency among people enjoying success – it appears to them that the despondent paupers are not human beings like them, and there is thus no evil in adding further pain.  But when the dejected ones begin rising somewhat from the depths of their lowliness, the successful ones begin regarding them with importance, pitying them and loving them.

 

According to Shadal, when the Torah speaks of God ensuring that Benei Yisrael earned the favor of their Egyptian neighbors, it refers to the natural effect of the entire process that had just transpired.  Over the course of the plagues, during which the Egyptians witnessed and experienced the power of the God who had come to deliver His nation, they gradually came to recognize the Israelite people as human beings.  Whereas until now they had looked upon them as an inferior race that did not deserve basic rights and privileges, they now regarded them with chen, with the respect and dignity that people generally afford to one another.

            Interestingly enough, Shadal proceeds to draw a parallel between this evolution of the Egyptians' feelings towards Benei Yisrael and that which occurred in the episode of Potifar's wife.  In Parashat Vayeshev, the Torah elaborates on Yosef's success as a servant in Potifar's home, which enabled him to rise from the lowly, humiliating depths of slavery to the position of chief supervisor over Potifar's affairs (Bereishit 39:2-6).  The Torah then writes, "It occurred after these things that his master's wife set her eyes upon him…"  Potifar's wife's advances began "after these things," meaning, after Yosef's rise to prominence in Potifar's home.  Shadal explains this to mean that Potifar's wife's perspective towards Yosef changed once he achieved a stature of importance.  She had previously felt no interest in Yosef because she regarded him as a lowly slave; it was only once he ascended to prominence that she began to look upon him as a "human being" in the full sense of the term, and ultimately felt a strong attraction to him.

 

David Silverberg