S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT BO

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            We read in Parashat Bo that after the ninth plague, the plague of darkness, Pharaoh summoned Moshe and offered to allow Benei Yisrael to leave Egypt, provided that they leave their cattle behind: “Go serve the Lord – only your sheep and cattle shall stay put” (10:24).

            Moshe, however, refused the offer, insisting that Benei Yisrael could not leave without their livestock: “Even you will hand us sacrifices and burnt-offerings for us to perform for the Lord our God.  Our cattle, too, will come with us – not a hoof will remain – for we will take from these to serve the Lord our God, and we will not know with what we will serve the Lord until we get there” (10:25-26).

            Rashi, commenting on Moshe’s response to Pharaoh, writes, “We will not know…how demanding the service will be – perhaps He will ask of us more than what we have.”  It appears from Rashi’s comments that Benei Yisrael had to take all their animals as well as animals from the Egyptians, because they had no way of knowing how many sacrifices God would demand.  He might demand more animals than they had in their possession, and they therefore had no choice but to bring with them additional herds from the property of the Egyptians.

            The Taz, in his Divrei David, raised the question of why Moshe entertained such concerns.  Would God have demanded more cattle than Benei Yisrael owned?  Does God ever impose obligations that are beyond people’s capabilities?

            The Taz therefore suggested an entirely different reading of Rashi’s commentary to this verse – and of this exchange between Moshe and Pharaoh.  Pharaoh certainly understood, even from the outset, that Benei Yisrael wished to bring their livestock for the purpose of offering sacrifices.  However, he insisted that this was unnecessary.  Even when Pharaoh was prepared to allow the people to go worship God in the wilderness, he demanded that they worship only with their hearts and mouths, but not with their possessions.  He denied the need for them to offer animal sacrifices, insisting that sincere prayer was sufficient.  Moshe responded, “We will not know with what we will serve the Lord.”  It was unclear at that point what kind of avoda (service) God would demand of them.  He might insist on mere prayer or silent devotion, but He might also call upon His people to offer sacrifices.  The Taz asserted that when Rashi writes, “…perhaps He will ask of us more than what we have,” he means that God might ask of Benei Yisrael more than simply prayer; He might demand sacrifices, as well.

            Thus, according to the Taz, Moshe’s comment is said not in reference to the amount of sacrifices God would require, but rather to the type of service He will demand – mere prayer, or animal sacrifices.

            The Taz’s understanding of Rashi’s comments appears to be far from the straightforward reading of this passage.  Nevertheless, it provides a valuable model of preparedness in avodat Hashem.  We must always live our lives with a sense of “We will not know with what we will serve the Lord,” with the awareness that we may be called upon to make significant sacrifices in our service of God.  It would certainly be easier and more convenient if God demanded only prayer and an emotional bond with our Creator.  But, as we know, there are many times when He demands much more of us, when we are required to make substantial sacrifices – and we must be prepared at all times to make these sacrifices.  Benei Yisrael would not leave Egypt without the cattle that they suspected they would need for their service of God.  Similarly, we must ensure at all times to be prepared to make the sacrifices that God sometimes demands of us, and never assume that a life of avodat Hashem will always be simple and convenient.

SUNDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Bo tells of Benei Yisrael’s preparations for the Exodus, which included asking their Egyptian neighbors for their utensils and garments, which they would bring with them as they leave Egypt.  In issuing the command that the people should ask the Egyptians for their belongings, God, surprisingly, formulates this directive as a request, instructing Moshe, “Daber na ba-oznei ha-am” (“Speak, if you please, to the people…” – 11:2).  God begs Moshe, it appears, to instruct the people to ask the Egyptians for the goods they would need as they leave Egypt.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (9a-b) famously explains God’s “plea” as referring to the promise He had made to Avraham many years earlier:

The Almighty said to Moshe: I ask you, go and say to Israel: I ask you, ask for silver and gold utensils from the Egyptians, so that this righteous man [Avraham] will not say, “He fulfilled for them [the decree of] ‘they will enslave and persecute them’ but did not fulfill for them [the promise of] ‘they will then leave with immense wealth’.”

God had informed Avraham that his descendants would suffer a period of bondage and oppression, from which they would then emerge with wealth (Bereishit 15:13-14).  God begged Benei Yisrael, as it were, to take the wealth of Egypt so that Avraham would not “complain” to the Almighty that He fulfilled the decree of persecution, but not the promise of wealth.

            Many different approaches have been taken to explain this baffling Talmudic passage.  Rav Chayim Mordechai Bronrot, in his Omer U-dvarim (Warsaw, 1936), suggested that the Gemara here refers to Avraham’s quality of judging people favorably, overlooking their faults and viewing them in a positive light.  Most famously, we read in Parashat Vayera (Bereishit, chapter 18) of Avraham’s plea of defense on behalf of the corrupt city of Sedom.  Despite the city’s sinfulness, Avraham looked upon its residents favorably and insisted upon their right to continue to exist.  The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 49:25) comments regarding this episode that God said to Avraham, “You loved exonerating My creatures, and you despised evil.”  God commended Avraham for his insistence upon seeing what’s good about people, rather than focusing on their negative qualities.

            This is why it was so important for God to ensure, so-to-speak, that Benei Yisrael would leave Egypt laden with wealth.  As the prophet Yechezkel (20) describes at length, Benei Yisrael were not deserving of redemption, entrenched as they were in Egyptian paganism.  God nevertheless freed the nation for the sake of His Name’s honor, but they hardly earned the right to collect the Egyptians’ riches as they left.  However, even if according to the standards of strict justice they were unworthy, by the standards of “this righteous man,” Avraham, they were certainly worthy.  “This righteous man” always saw the noble qualities of all people, and would certainly rise to the defense of his descendants, who, in spite of everything, succeeded in retaining their national identity despite over two centuries of slavery and persecution.  God therefore conveyed the message that even if the people were not, strictly speaking, deserving of wealth, He must nevertheless bless them with wealth in the merit of Avraham, following his standard of kindness and magnanimity when assessing other people.

MONDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Bo presents the basic laws relevant to the korban pesach – the paschal offering – including the prohibition against eating meat from the sacrifice that had been boiled, or not cooked at all (12:9).  The sacrificial meat was to be roasted over a fire, and one who eats raw or boiled korban pesach meat violates a Torah prohibition.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (41a) establishes that if one boils the meat of the korban pesach in “chamei Teverya,” the natural hot water springs in Tiberias, and then partakes of the meat, he has violated a Torah prohibition.  Even though cooking food in these springs does not constitute “cooking” as defined by Halakha, since this water is not heated by fire, nevertheless, it is forbidden to eat korban pesach meat that was boiled in this fashion.  As Rashi explains, the Gemara understood the Torah as introducing a general prohibition against eating korban pesach meat in any state other than roasted, and therefore meat boiled in “chamei Teverya” is forbidden for consumption despite the fact that it has not been “cooked” in the technical sense.

            A number of Acharonim noted that such a scenario seems practically impossible, and thus should not warrant a Talmudic discussion.  The korban pesach must be slaughtered, and its meat partaken of, in Jerusalem.  If any sacrificial meat leaves Jerusalem, it automatically becomes invalid and forbidden for consumption due to the prohibition of yotzei (the disqualified status of a sacrifice that leaves its designated area).  Clearly, then, the Gemara could not have raised for discussion the case of korban pesach meat that was brought from Jerusalem to Tiberias, as such meat is already invalid and forbidden.  One might propose, then, that the Gemara refers to somebody who transported hot water from the Tiberias springs to Jerusalem and used it to boil the korban pesach meat.  However, as many have noted, the water will certainly have cooled by the time it reaches Jerusalem.  And besides, the sacrificial meat in such a case would have been cooked in a keli sheni (meaning, not in the original utensil in which the water was heated), and Halakha does not (generally) consider cooking in a keli sheni halakhic “cooking.”  As such, this meat would be no different from raw meat, and there would be no need for the Gemara to instruct that it is forbidden for consumption, since the korban pesach may not be eaten raw.

            One creative solution was suggested by Rav Chayim Mordechai Braunroth (Poland-Israel, 1881-1950), in his work Omer U-dvarim (Warsaw, 1936).  He cites a comment from the work Peri Yitzchak claiming that the halakha established in the Gemara applies even if the sacrificial meat was roasted over a fire after it was boiled in “chamei Teverya.”  Even though cooking in natural hot springs does not qualify as “cooking” in the halakhic sense of the term, it does have an effect upon the raw meat that renders subsequent forms of food preparation halakhically inconsequential.  Once the meat was boiled in the “chamei Teverya,” it can no longer be considered roasted even if one would subsequently roast it over a flame.

            If so, Rav Braunroth suggested, then we could perhaps explain the practical implications of the Gemara’s ruling.  Later in Masekhet Pesachim (74a), the Mishna establishes that nowadays, after the Temple’s destruction, one may not eat on Pesach meat from a lamb that was roasted whole over the fire.  Eating such meat would give the impression that we offer sacrifices even nowadays, and the Sages therefore enacted that one should refrain from eating meat prepared this fashion, which resembles the process of preparing the korban pesach meat.  The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 476:1) codifies this halakha and records as well a custom to refrain from eating any roasted meat on the night of Pesach, for the same reason.  Accordingly, Rav Braunroth noted that the Gemara’s discussion concerning “chamei Teverya” may have been intended not for the times of the Mikdash, but rather for the post-Temple era.  The Gemara establishes that in theory, if the korban pesach meat would be boiled in the Tiberias springs and then roasted over a flame, it would be forbidden for consumption despite its having been roasted.  Although this could never actually happen, this halakha affects the status of a whole lamb that was boiled in the “chamei Teverya” and subsequently roasted, nowadays, after the Temple’s destruction.  Since this kind of meat would not qualify as valid korban pesach meat, it is not forbidden for consumption on Pesach night nowadays.  The prohibition applies only to meat that resembles the paschal sacrifice, and therefore meat that was prepared in a fashion that would disqualify korban pesach meat is permissible for consumption on Pesach night nowadays.  Perhaps, then, the Gemara introduced this halakha to teach that nowadays, it would be permissible on Pesach night to eat meat that came from an animal that had been boiled in “chamei Teverya” and then roasted over an open flame.

TUESDAY

            The Yalkut Shimoni in Parashat Bo (187) relates that a certain student of Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa had difficulty understanding a tradition he had received that the world’s dogs will one day be given the privilege of singing praise to God.  A verse in Sefer Yeshayahu (56:11) describes dogs as “azei nefesh” – brazen and shameless.  This student thus could not understand how creatures that are characterized by this morally destructive quality would be privileged to praise the Almighty.

            The Yalkut proceeds to relate that this student was visited by a Heavenly angel who answered his question by citing a verse from Sefer Mishlei (21:23): “Shomer piv u-lshono shomer mi-tzarot nafsho” (“One who guards his mouth and his tongue guards himself from calamities”).  This response refers to a verse in Parashat Bo (11:7) in which Moshe predicts the night of makat bekhorot (the death of the firstborn).  Moshe contrasts the widespread wailing that would be sounded by the grieving Egyptians with the tranquility that the Israelites would enjoy on that night, to the point where even the Israelites’ dogs would remain silent.  According to the Yalkut Shimoni, the dogs’ silence on the night of the Exodus rendered them worthy of singing God’s praises, despite their quality of “azei nefesh.”

            How might we understand the Yalkut’s depiction of the dogs’ “worthiness” to sing God’s praises?

            One explanation, perhaps, is that the Sages here point to verbal discipline as the “guard” against the ill effects of negative qualities such as “azei nefesh.”  Tendencies such as impatience, irritability, short-temperedness, irreverence and envy can cause a person considerable harm.  Much of this harm, however, can be avoided through self-control and discretion in speech.  As the Yalkut cites from Mishlei, “Shomer piv u-lshono shomer mi-tzarot nafsho.”  As human beings, we are beset by many negative tendencies and our emotions are often fragile.  Our instinctive recourse in seeking to express or assuage difficult emotions is through the tongue, through offensive or provocative speech.  The Yalkut teaches that while ideally we should endeavor to rid ourselves entirely of our negative tendencies, it is possible for us in the meantime to protect ourselves against their ill effects by exercising discipline with regard to speech.  If we are careful, discerning and patient before speaking, then we avoid the pitfalls posed by characteristics such as jealousy and quick-temperedness.

Indeed, even those who are brazen as dogs can become worthy to sing praise to the Almighty.  By accustoming ourselves to keeping silent, to exercising discretion before speaking, we can overcome our negative qualities and be worthy of standing before and serving our Creator.

WEDNESDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Bo presents some of the basic laws relevant to the korban pesach, including the restrictions regarding who may participate in the sacrifice and partake of its meat.  One such restriction is the halakha known as milat zekharav va-avadav, which forbids a person from participating in the korban pesach if any of his sons or gentile servants are uncircumcised.  Although the Mekhilta (to 12:44,48) cites differing views on this subject, the accepted position (see Rambam, Hilkhot Korban Pesach 5:5) is that the circumcision of all of one’s sons and male servants is a prerequisite for offering and partaking of the korban pesach.

            The Tosefta in Masekhet Pesachim (chapter 8) establishes that this halakha is a shared feature of Pesach Mitzrayim – the first paschal ritual observed by Benei Yisrael on the night of the Exodus – and Pesach Dorot – the paschal sacrifice offered each year on Pesach for all time.  The Tosefta writes: “Both in Pesach Mitzrayim and Pesach Dorot, a person who had servants who were not circumcised or maidservants who did not immerse – they prevent him from partaking of the pesach.”  Curiously, the Tosefta here mentions only one of the two aspects of this halakha.  It speaks of the prerequisite that one’s servants be circumcised, but not the requirement that one’s sons be circumcised, despite the fact that, as mentioned, both are required.  Apparently, the Tosefta drew a distinction between the two requirements with regard to Pesach Mitzrayim.  The requirement that one’s servants be circumcised applied even to the original korban pesach ritual observed in Egypt, whereas the requirement that one’s sons be circumcised did not apply on that occasions, and took effect only the following year.

            What might be the rationale for this distinction between the two requirements of milat zekharav (the circumcision of one’s sons) and milat avadav (the circumcision of one’s servants)?

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Gevurat Yitzchak, offers a very novel explanation.  The Rambam, in codifying the requirement of milat zekharav, emphasizes that it applies only to “milat banav ha-ketanim” – the circumcision of one’s “young” children.  If a person has an uncircumcised son who has already reached the age of bar mitzva, he is not disqualified from partaking of the korban pesach.  The reason, as explained by the Minchat Chinukh (2), is that this disqualification applies only if a person has an uncircumcised child for whom the parent bears the obligation of circumcision.  It is the parent’s failure to fulfill his obligation with respect to the child’s mila that disqualifies the parent from the korban pesach.  Once a child reaches the age of bar mitzva, however, he bears a personal obligation with regard to all mitzvot, including berit mila, and therefore his uncircumcised condition does not disqualify his parents from the korban pesach (though it quite obviously disqualifies himself from korban pesach).

            This definition of the halakha may hold the key to explaining the Tosefta’s comments.  Rav Sorotzkin posits that before Matan Torah, the obligation of berit mila applied specifically on the eighth day.  If, for whatever reason, a child was not circumcised on his eighth day, the father did not – technically speaking – bear an obligation to have the infant circumcised.  The obligation of mila she-lo bi-zmana, to circumcise a child that was not circumcised on his eighth day, was introduced only at the time of Matan Torah.  (Rav Sorotzkin arrives at this theory based upon the comments of the Minchat Chinukh in the same passage mentioned above.)  Accordingly, on the night of the Exodus, there was no possibility of a parent being unable to offer the korban pesach because of an uncircumcised child.  If the child’s eighth day was Erev Pesach, then once nightfall came, and it became the ninth day, the obligation of berit mila did not apply, and, as discussed, the child’s uncircumcised condition would therefore not affect the parents.  And if Erev Pesach was the child’s seventh day, he did not become eligible for circumcision until the following morning, since berit mila is not performed at night.  Hence, there was no circumstance of milat zekharav, where a parent would be disqualified from the korban pesach because of an uncircumcised child.  The Tosefta therefore spoke in this context only of the halakha of milat avadav – the required circumcision of one’s servants – and not milat zekharav.

THURSDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Bo records Moshe’s instructions to Benei Yisrael before the Exodus, in which he presents the basic guidelines concerning the korban pesach – the paschal offering.  Moshe conveys to the people God’s command that this ritual be performed each year on the anniversary of the Exodus, and he foresees the time when children might raise questions concerning the meaning and significance of this sacrifice: “It shall be, when your children say to you, ‘What is this service for you?’ you shall say, ‘It is a paschal offering to the Lord, who passed over the homes of the Israelites in Egypt when He smote the Egyptians, and He saved our homes” (12:26-27).

            The Haggadah famously explains this exchange as reflecting the question raised by the “rasha,” the wicked son.  This child, in the Haggadah’s words, “removed himself from the whole,” willfully separating himself from Kelal Yisrael.  The conventional understanding of the Haggadah’s comment is that this child describes the korban pesach as a ritual performed “for you,” but not for him.  He wants to have no part in this mitzva – or in any mitzva – and for this reason the Haggadah admonishes the parent to reprimand the child.

            Some, however, have suggested a different possible reason why this question is attributed to the rasha.  Through the word “lakhem” (“for you”), the son perhaps intends to deny the value of observance.  The child asks, “What is this service for you?”  What, he wonders, is the value that you see in these religious practices?  What do you stand to gain by observing these customs?  What does it do for you to spend a night reflecting on events that transpired centuries ago?  How does all this benefit you?

            If, indeed, this is the question posed to the rasha, then the response instructed by the Torah becomes more poignant: “You shall say, ‘It is a paschal offering to the Lord.”  The rasha views these rituals from the perspective of “lakhem,” in terms of how they directly benefit the person who practices them.  Our response to such questions, the Torah commands, must be that we perform the mitzvot “l-Hashem,” for God, not for ourselves.  While God undoubtedly does not need our service, we nevertheless approach the Torah’s laws as servants faithfully serving their master.  Having redeemed us from bondage, God has taken us from the service of Pharaoh to His service.  Our focus, then, is not on “lakhem” – what the mitzvot do for us – but rather on “l-Hashem,” the fact that we thereby serve our Master.

            In this sense, too, the rasha “removes himself from the whole.”  By hinging his commitment to Torah on the tangible, immediate and practical benefits that it offers, he abrogates his share in the destiny and mission of Am Yisrael.  This destiny and mission require the selfless attitude of “l-Hashem,” the sincere desire to serve the Almighty regardless what this entails, and regardless of any direct, immediately recognizable benefit that it offers.

FRIDAY

            We find in Parashat Bo the command of “Ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim” – “This month shall be for you the first of the months” (12:2).  According to the oral tradition of halakhic interpretation, this verse is understood as establishing the mitzva of kiddush ha-chodesh – arranging the Hebrew calendar based upon the monthly sighting of the new moon.  The Mekhilta, as Rashi cites, explains that God drew Moshe and Aharon’s attention to the sight of the new moon on the first of Nissan, and instructed that Benei Yisrael should declare new months based on the witnessing of this phenomenon.  (See also Rambam, Sefer Ha-mitzvot – asei 153, and Sefer Ha-chinukh 4.)

            According to the literal reading of this verse, however, the Torah here issues a different command, namely, that the month of the Exodus – Nissan – should be viewed as the first of the twelve months.  Indeed, the Gemara comments in Masekhet Rosh Hashanah (7a) on the basis of this verse that Nissan “is the first of the months.”  The Rashba, in his commentary to the Gemara, raises the question of what practical halakha is intended through the establishment of Nissan as the first month.  He suggests that this designation is significant with respect to all dates presented subsequently in the Torah, which refers to months on the basis of their relationship to Nissan (the second month, the third month, and so on).  Most importantly, the Rashba notes, the Torah’s commands with regard to the observance of Yom Tov make reference to the dates of these occasions by numbering the months.  The concept of Nissan being the first month is thus critical in enabling us to determine on what days we need to observe the special occasions.

            The Ramban, however, in a famous passage in his commentary to Parashat Bo (12:2), seems to broaden the scope of this command to designate Nissan as the first month:

The meaning of “ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim” is that the Israelites should count it as the first month, and from it count all the months as second, third – until the completion of the year with twelve months, in order that this shall be a commemoration of the great miracle.  And for this reason the months have no names in the Torah…

According to the Ramban, the Torah commands us to designate Nissan as the first month so that we remember the event of the Exodus every time we mention a month.  As each month is named in reference to Nissan, whenever we mention a date with the month’s name – the first month, the second month, etc. – we implicitly make mention as well of the Exodus.  The Ramban proceeds to compare this mitzva to the command of “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat” (“Remember the day of Shabbat” – Shemot 20:8), which, in the Ramban’s view, requires that we refer to each day of the week in reference to Shabbat.  By naming the days, “yom rishon” (the first day), “yom sheni” (the second day) and so on, we make mention of Shabbat each day of the week, every time we make reference to that day.  Similarly, the Ramban writes, we continuously remember the event of Exodus by referring to the months according to their position vis-à-vis the month of Nissan.

            The Ramban’s approach gives rise to the question of why this requirement has not been followed throughout the ages.  Already in the Books of Daniel and Ester we find the months being referred to by the Babylonian names that have been used ever since, until today.  Why, according to the Ramban, do we use names for the months such as “Shevat” and “Adar,” rather than referring to them as “the eleventh month” and “the twelfth month,” as the obligation of “ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim” would seem to require?

            The Ramban addresses this question, and explains that with the return of the Jewish exiles from Babylonia at the beginning of the Second Commonwealth, the names of the months were changed to commemorate the Jews’ return to Zion.  Rather than naming the months in reference to the Exodus, the returnees chose instead to name the months by the names used in Babylonia, in commemoration of the more recent miracle of the Jews’ return.  The Ramban cites in this context Yirmiyahu’s prophecy (23:7-8), “…behold, days are coming…and they will no longer say, ‘As the Lord lives, who raised the Israelites from the land of Egypt,’ but rather, ‘As the Lord lives, who raised and brought the offspring of the House of Israel from the northern lands and from all the lands to where He had banished them, and they live upon their territory.”  With the Jews’ return from Babylonia, the names of the months were changed to commemorate the restoration of Jewish settlement in its ancient homeland, and the months were thus assigned the Babylonian names.

            Rav Yosef Albo, in his Sefer Ha-ikarim (16), cites the Ramban’s comments and clarifies that according to the Ramban, the original command to name the months in reference to the Exodus was, from the outset, intended as a temporary measure.  It is obvious that the returnees from Babylonia did not simply change the Torah’s command.  Rather, from the outset the command of “ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim” was intended only for the period when the Exodus from Egypt was the most recent national redemption.

            Abarbanel, in his Torah commentary, also addresses this question.  He suggests that the Jews who returned from Babylonia did not replace the Biblical names of the months with the Babylonian names, but rather used the Babylonian names in addition to the Biblical names.  They continued referring to the months in reference to Nissan, but also made use of the names used by the Babylonians.  Obviously, Abarbanel’s theory, even if historically accurate, would not explain why Chazal and Jews ever since have used exclusively the Babylonian names, and not the names required by the Torah.

            Yet another theory was proposed by Rav Yaakov Ibn Chabiv, as cited by Rav Yerucham Perlow in his commentary to Rav Saadia Gaon’s Sefer Ha-mitzvot (vol. 1, p. 474).  He suggested that the Torah command of “ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim,” even according to the Ramban, does not require that we refer to the months in reference to their proximity to Nissan.  Rather, it means that if we assign numbers to the months, we must make Nissan the first month.  This command does not forbid using other names for the Hebrew months, but simply requires that we always consider Nissan the first of the months when numbering them.  Thus, the traditional use of the Babylonian names in reference to the months does not violate the command of “ha-chodesh ha-zeh lakhem rosh chodashim.”

(Taken from Rav Menachem Kasher’s Torah Sheleima, vol. 11, appendix 5)