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Last week, in our S.A.L.T. series on Parashat Vaera, we raised the thorny issue of the duration of the Egyptian bondage. In Parashat Bo, the Torah concludes its account of the Exodus as follows: "The length of time that the Israelites lived in Egypt was four hundred and thirty years" (Shemot 12:40). As we noted, many commentators point out the mathematical impossibility of this number. According to the genealogical record in Parashat Vaera, far fewer years passed from the descent of Yaakov and his family to Egypt until the Exodus. (Adding to the problem is the fact that in Parashat Lekh-Lekha, God predicts a 400-year period of bondage, as opposed to the four hundred and thirty years mentioned here. We will save this question for tomorrow's discussion.)

Two general approaches have been taken in traditional literature in dealing with this problem. (We do not mention here the rather untraditional view of the Shadal, of which we spoke last week.) Most commentators believe that the four hundred and thirty years mentioned in our verse began not with the onset of the Egyptian slavery, but somewhere around the time of Yitzchak's birth. In Bereishit 15, God informs Avraham that his offspring will be "foreigners in a land not their own," not necessarily in Egypt. As Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov and Yaakov's sons held foreigner status in Canaan, the fulfillment of this prophecy took effect as soon as Avraham begot offspring - with the birth of Yitzchak. (Yishmael did not earn the formal status of "Avraham's offspring" - Bereishit 21:12.) The earliest reference to this approach is the Targum Ha-shivim, or the Septuagint, which translates our verse in Parashat Bo as, "The length of time that the Israelites lived in Egypt and in other lands… " (Masekhet Megila 9). Sensitive to this issue, the writers of the Septuagint added the clause "and in other lands" to emphasize that the 430-year period began earlier than Benei Yisrael's descent to Egypt. (Tomorrow, iy"H, we will discuss this theory in greater detail.)

Another theory that appears in several Midrashim argues that Benei Yisrael "left early." Indeed, they were to have remained as slaves in Egypt for an additional 190 years, but God brought about the redemption earlier than planned. Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer (48) cites the position of Rabbi Elazar Ben Arakh that the four hundred year decree referred specifically to daytime labor. The Egyptians, however, subjugated Benei Yisrael even at night. (Ha-ketav Ve-kabbala explains this based on another Midrash, that the Egyptian taskmasters forced the Hebrew slaves to sleep out in the fields and did not let them return at night to their families.) Therefore, Benei Yisrael served the functional equivalent of 430 years. Although twice 210 - the actual duration of Benei Yisrael's stay in Egypt - equals only four hundred and twenty, Rabbi Elazar Ben Arakh argues that the period began five years before Benei Yisrael's descent to Egypt, with the birth of Yosef's two sons, Menashe and Efrayim. As they were the first tribes to arrive in Egypt (having been born there), the period of the Egyptian exile begins at that point.

This concept appears more generally in a Midrash cited by the Vilna Gaon (in "Kol Eliyahu" to Parashat Shemot). This Midrash claims quite simply, that the intense suffering of the Egyptian bondage rendered the two hundred and ten year ordeal equivalent to four hundred years of servitude. God thus brought the redemption early, as the 400-year decree was fulfilled in two hundred and ten years.

We will discuss this topic further tomorrow.

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Yesterday we discussed the difficulty arising from the Torah's claim in Parashat Bo calculating the length of the Egyptian exile at four hundred and thirty years. Chazal and several commentators demonstrate that this is a mathematical impossibility. As we saw, many, if not most, of the classic commentaries adopt the view that the four hundred and thirty years began not with Benei Yisrael's arrival in Egypt, but rather sometime around Yitzchak's birth. His birth in a land where he was considered a foreigner marked the beginning of God's prophecy to Avraham that his offspring will be "foreigners in a land not their own" (Bereishit 15). The problem arises, however, from the conclusion of that verse. God there predicts a period of exile lasting four hundred years, not four hundred and thirty. How do we account for the extra thirty years? Four approaches exist among the classic commentaries. Today we will look at two of the explanations offered.

Several Rishonim, including Rashi, accept the position of the Seder Olam Rabba that this prophecy to Avraham was transmitted thirty years prior to Yitzchak's birth. It predicted the four hundred year period of exile to be experienced by Avraham's offspring, which came into existence with Yitzchak's birth. The verse in Parashat Bo counts from the point when Avraham received this prophecy, thirty years prior to Yitzchak's birth, or four hundred and thirty years before the Exodus from Egypt.

This approach, however, gives rise to one major chronological difficulty. Avraham was one hundred years old at Yitzchak's birth (Bereishit 21:5), which, according to the Seder Olam Rabba, means that the prophecy of exile was conveyed when Avraham was seventy years of age. The Torah (Bereishit 12:4) explicitly writes, however, that Avraham initially migrated to Canaan at age seventy-five, and his migration is recorded several chapters before the prophecy of exile! The Seder Olam must therefore rearrange Biblical chronology, and it claims that Avraham actually migrated to Canaan twice. He moved for the first time at age seventy, and then, after the "berit bein habetarim" in which he was informed of the future exile, he returned to Charan. He then moved once again five years later, at the age of seventy-five, as recorded in the Chumash.

A far simpler approach is advanced by an anonymous source cited by the Abarbanel in his commentary to our parasha. This theory contends that the prophecy to Avraham "rounded off" the four hundred and thirty year period to the nearest hundred. In truth, the decree involved four hundred and thirty years of exile beginning with Yitzchak's birth, but for purposes of simplicity, the verse in Bereishit mentions the round number of four hundred. (According to this approach, it turns out that Benei Yisrael spent two hundred and forty years in Egypt, rather than two hundred and ten, as is commonly assumed.) The Abarbanel himself, however, prefers the approach of the Ramban, which we will see be"H tomorrow, along with that of the Ibn Ezra.

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Over the last two days we have discussed the chronological problem raised by the verse in Parashat Bo concerning the duration of the Egyptian bondage: "The length of time that the Israelites lived in Egypt was four hundred and thirty years" (Shemot 12:40). The commentators note that Benei Yisrael actually spent much fewer than four hundred and thirty years in Egypt. This number refers to the time that passed since some point around the time of the birth of Yitzchak Avinu, which marked the beginning of the fulfillment of God's prophecy to Avraham, "your offspring shall be foreigners in a land not their own… for four hundred years" (Bereishit 15:13).

The question, of course, arises as to the extra thirty years. If God had promised a 400-year exile, why did it last for four hundred and thirty years? Yesterday we cited two answers to this question; today we will look at another two possibilities.

The Ramban in our parasha claims that God never established a definite time span of the exile. He mentioned four hundred years as a minimum amount, not an accurate, definitive decree. As Benei Yisrael spiritually deteriorated in Egypt, as described explicitly by the prophet Yechezkel (20), they suffered an extra thirty years of exile. The 4-year period thus transformed into a 430-year or. As the Ramban acknowledges, this approach opposes the commonly held assumption of Chazal (Bereishit Rabba 91:2) that Benei Yisrael spent two hundred and ten years in Egypt. The Sages arrive at this number through a very simple computation: Yitzchak begot Yaakov at age sixty (Bereishit 25:26), and Yaakov was one hundred and thirty years old when he and his family arrived in Egypt (Bereishit 47:9). One hundred and ninety years thus passed from Yitzchak's birth until Benei Yisrael's settlement in Egypt. As the entire period of exile, beginning with Yitzchak's birth, was to last four hundred years, Benei Yisrael spend two hundred and ten years in Egypt. According to the Ramban, however, four hundred and thirty years passed from Yitzchak's birth until the Exodus; hence, Benei Yisrael spent two hundred and forty years in Egypt, rather than two hundred and ten.

A much different theory is postulated by the Ibn Ezra in our parasha, one which is accepted by Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor, as well. Ibn Ezra concurs with the view that the four hundred years run from Yitzchak's birth until the Exodus (as opposed to the Ramban's position). The verse in Parashat Bo, however, begins its tally of years thirty years prior to Yitzchak's birth - when Avraham first left Ur Kasdim. The verses towards the end of Parashat Noach describe that Avraham's father, Terach, took his family from Ur Kasdim to go resettle in Canaan. For unknown reasons, however, they stopped in Charan and never continued on to Canaan. The Ibn Ezra contends that this occurred when Avraham was seventy years of age, thirty years prior to Yitzchak's birth. Five years later, God appeared to Avraham and instructed him to move to Canaan. As Avraham's departure from Ur Kasdim marked the beginning of his period of "exile," the verse in Parashat Bo considers that event the beginning of the exile of which God informs Avraham in Bereishit 15.

The following summary briefly reviews the four positions mentioned in yesterday's and today's divrei Torah:

1. Rashi, Seder Olam Rabba:

the four hundred years begin from Yitzchak's birth;

the four hundred and thirty years begin from "berit bein ha-betarim," when

Avraham learns about the future exile of his offspring.

2. Ramban:

both periods begin with Yitzchak's birth; the four hundred year term was prolonged

due to Benei Yisrael's unworthiness.

3. Ibn Ezra:

the four hundred years begin with Yitzchak's birth;

the four hundred and thirty years begin with Avraham's departure from Ur Kasdim.

4. Anonymous source cited by the Abarbanel:

*****

This week we have been discussing the verse in Parashat Bo (12:40) that informs us that the Egyptian exile lasted for four hundred and thirty years. As we have seen, most Midrashim and commentators maintain that in truth, Benei Yisrael spent a shorter period in Egypt (210 according to most sources; a little more according to the Ramban). They reinterpret our verse as reporting the time that elapsed from Yizchak's birth, which began the fulfillment of the prophecy of Avraham's offspring's exile, until the Exodus. Since Yitzchak, Yaakov, and Yaakov's children lived as foreigners even before their descent to Egypt, their years were included in the decree to Avraham Avinu that "your offspring will be foreigners in a land not their own" (Bereishit 15:13).

The question that will occupy us today is, why were Yitzchak, Yaakov and Yaakov's children deemed "foreigners" while they lived in Canaan? Commenting on Bereishit 15:13, Rashi cites several verses that employ forms of the Hebrew word "ger," foreigner, in reference to their residence in Canaan. He does not, however, explain why this was the case. If God had promised them eternal rights to the land, why does He consider their residence in Canaan that of foreigners?

The Ibn Ezra here in Parashat Bo cites a source that claims that during this period Canaan was subject to Egyptian rule. Though the Ibn Ezra claims the absence of any evidence to substantiate this theory, Rav Menachem Kasher, in his footnotes to "Torah Sheleima," indeed cites several sources to this effect.

The Maharal of Prague (in his "Gur Aryeh" in our parasha), however, explains differently. He claims that ever since God's prophecy informed Avraham of the future exile of his offspring, their residence in Canaan could not be considered anything more than temporary. As they knew that they will one day leave into exile, Yitzchak, Yaakov and his sons held foreigner status in Canaan, such that the decree of exile included those years, as well.

A somewhat similar explanation is suggested by the Sefer Ha-chinukh, in the introduction to the work. The anxiety caused by this information, knowing that at some, unknown point the family must be exiled and oppressed, itself constitutes a form of exile or bondage. Exile begins not with the actual departure date, but beforehand, once Avraham learned of its inevitable arrival.

Rabbi Yitzchak Mirsky, in his commentary to the Haggadah, "Hegyonei Halakha," suggests a precedent for this theory posited by the Sefer Ha-chinukh. The Torah requires one who committed an inadvertent murder to relocate in an "ir miklat," a city of refuge, a requirement referred to by Chazal as "galut" (literally, "exile"). The individual must remain in the city of refuge until the passing of the incumbent kohen gadol (Bemidbar 35:28). The mishna in Masekhet Makkot (11b) addresses a situation where the court issued a ruling ordering an inadvertent murderer to relocate in an ir miklat, but before he moved there the kohen gadol dies. Must he go and stay there until the passing of the newly appointed kohen gadol, or is he now exempt? The mishna rules that the murderer in this situation need not settle in a city of refuge at all. The obvious question is, why does this individual earn an exemption if he never stepped foot in an ir miklat? The Meiri explains: "The fact that his exile was engraved in his imagination caused him to become subdued, to the point where through this submission he earns atonement as a result of the death of the kohen gadol… " In other words, the mere knowledge of one's impending exile brings about a sense of an uneasiness and emotional discomfort, which itself may be equated with exile. Rav Mirsky suggests that this same principle underlies the Sefer Ha-chinukh's claim, that knowing of exile itself constitutes the experience of exile.

*****

Parashat Bo presents us with the mitzva of "kiddush ha-chodesh," the responsibility of the Jewish High Court to oversee the Hebrew calendar (12:2). Whereas the western world follows the Gregorian calendar (a refined version of the Cesarean calendar), which defines a year based on the earth's rotation around the sun - a cycle that directly affects the seasons, our calendar works based on the moon's revolution around the earth. The former system is quite straightforward, perhaps rendering it pragmatically advantageous over our calendar's arrangement. The moon revolves around the earth once every 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, and 3 and 1/3 seconds. In order to ensure that the month of Nissan falls in the springtime, as required by the verse in Devarim 16:1 (see Rashi there), the courts must make careful, complex calculations to determine which months should last twenty-nine days and which thirty. They must also add an extra month on occasion to keep the lunar, Hebrew calendar generally parallel with the solar calendar.

Many Jewish thinkers have therefore found particular, symbolic significance to the Torah's choice of the moon as the basis for our calendar system. What is it about the moon that has earned it such prominence in Jewish law?

We will consider here three possible qualities of the moon that convey a critical message for Am Yisrael to learn and inculcate.

In its description of creation, Sefer Bereishit (1:16) refers to the moon and the sun as "the large luminaries." The same verse also mentions the stars,without granting them any corresponding appellation, this despite the fact that, as astrotell us, most stars are larger even than the sun. The moon perhaps symbolizes the notion that relative stature and prominence do not determine a being's essential worth. From our perspective, "greatness" is measured by one's ability to "shine" and make a difference in the world. Their physical enormity notwithstanding, the stars' vast distance from earth severely reduces the amount of light they can provide to earth. The moon, by contrast, shines brightly in the nighttime sky. Despite its minuscule size relative to the stars, the moon earns the title "large luminary" because of is profound impact on our planet.

A second symbolic quality of the moon is the ongoing fluctuation of its size (as viewed from earth). The significance of this phenomenon as is relevant for Am Yisrael exists on two levels, the individual and national. On the individual level, it reflects the instability and inconsistency that often characterize religious life. A spiritually conscious individual will experience periods of rapid growth and elevation, and others of regression of one sort or another. The importance afforded to the moon perhaps teaches that this is to be expected; so long as one exerts the effort to constantly grow, his occasional lapses should not be interpreted as failure. On the national level, the moon symbolizes the history of Am Yisrael. Our nation has constantly experienced drastic reversals of fortune. We must remember that even when our light seems to dim, it will ultimately be kindled once again and shine as brightly as ever.

Finally, the moon does not produce its own light; it merely reflects the light generated by the sun. In this sense, the moon demonstrates that originality is not always crucial. Rav Avraham Pam zt"l applied this lesson specifically to the experience of yeshiva students. In some circles, a student's ability to innovate, to arrive at a "chiddush," serves as the primary barometer of his academic success. This should not be the case. Taking the wisdom - the "light" - of previous generations and transmitting it constitutes a great achievement of paramount importance. Even one who cannot introduce a new theory, idea or line of reasoning is considered an accomplished scholar if he has diligently applied himself to the point where he has absorbed the great light of our tradition, enabling him to reflect it onto others.

*****

As discussed yesterday, Parashat Bo introduces the mitzva of "kiddush ha-chodesh," which requires the Sanhedrin (Jewish high court) to regulate and oversee the Hebrew calendar. God commands in this parasha (12:2), "This month shall be for you the first of the months," that the month to which we refer as "Nissan" must be deemed the first of the months. What precisely does this mitzva entail? The Ramban, in his commentary on this verse, writes that this refers to our identifying all the months by number. The Torah never gives names to the twelve months; instead, it assigns them numbers: "chodesh ha-rishon," "chodesh ha-sheni," etc. This system serves as a commemoration of the great miracle of Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus), which occurred during "the first month."

The question, of course, arises as to why this system, which the Torah seemingly requires, appears to have fallen into disuse. Even in the formal "kiddush ha-chodesh" declaration conducted on the Shabbat preceding Rosh Chodesh, we employ the names, "Tishrei," "Marcheshvan," "Kislev." These names were used by the Babylonians and imported to Eretz Yisrael when the Jews returned from the Babylonian exile. Why do we use these names instead of numbers? Does this not violate the Torah's commandment to always identify months by reference to the month of Nissan, when the Exodus took place?

The Ramban answers that the Jews returning from exile chose to use the Babylonian names of the months so as to commemorate the redemption from that exile. Just as the numbering system served to commemorate the redemption from Egypt, the new system that began with the return to Eretz Yisrael constitutes a reminder of the redemption from Bavel. The Sefer Ha-ikarim (16) elaborates a bit further on this passage in the Ramban, explaining that in his view, the original mitzva to identify months in reference to Nissan was initially intended as temporary. Once Benei Yisrael suffered a different exile and thereafter experienced redemption, they were to adopt a new system if identifying months, one that would commemorate that more recent redemption. (Does this mean that nowadays we should number our months beginning from Iyar??)

This question was answered differently many years later, in the early 19^th century, by Rav Yerucham Perlow zt"l, who authored a monumental work on Rav Sa'adya Gaon's listing of the mitzvot. He cites the position of the Mahari Ben Chabiv that this mitzva does not forbid any alternative system of identifying the months. Instead, it requires that should a numbering system be employed, Nissan must be considered the first month. Thus, we are free to use any names or other means of description in identifying the months of the Hebrew calendar, so long as we do not number the months differently than the Torah does.

The Abarbanel, however, commenting on our parasha, implies that we must, indeed, maintain the system employed by the Torah by which months are identified by number. Addressing the question as to how the Jews introduced the Babylonian names, he explains that they did not do so at the expense of the Torah's numbering system. They used the Babylonian names in addition to, but not in place of, the numbers. If so, then we must, indeed, ensure to refer to the Hebrew months by number, alongside their names.

(Sources taken from Rav Menachem Kasher, "Torah Sheleima," Parashat Bo appendix 5.)

******

Among the halakhot concerning the korban pesach presented in Parashat Bo is the prohibition against breaking any of the sacrifice's bones (Shemot 12:46), a law codified as one of the 613 mitzvot (Sefer Ha-chinukh 16; Rambam, Sefer Ha-mitzvot - lo ta'aseh 121 and Hilkhot Korban Pesach 10). Wherein lies the meaning and significance of this prohibition?

The Sefer Ha-chinukh explains this halakha as evolving from the honor and stature associated with the freedom achieved with the Exodus. A starving, destitute peasant will descend upon his meat viciously, whereas a dignified aristocrat eats far more delicately and respectfully. As the korban pesach commemorates Benei Yisrael's freedom from bondage and sudden transition from slaves to the proud nation of God, it requires a manner of consumption reflecting this theme. The Torah therefore prohibited breaking any bones in order to ensure a respectable demeanor during the consumption of this offering.

The Chatam Sofer (Derashot, vol. 2, p.269), however, explains much differently. He suggests that bones, as opposed to flesh, symbolizes the essential, bare minimum of a given organism. The skeleton constitutes the most minimal level of physical existence, bereft of excess flesh. David Ha-melekh declares in Tehillim 35:10, "All my bones shall say: God, who is like You? You save the poor from one stronger than he, the poor and needy from his despoiler." As he refers here to the divine assistance granted to the poor, the Psalmist speaks of the "bones" that thank the Almighty. (See also Tehillim 34:21.) Elsewhere, however, David orders his entire being to praise God: "Bless the Lord, O my soul, all my being, His holy Name" (Tehillim 103:1). Here, as the next verses clearly suggest, David refers to a situation of prosperity and success: "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all His bounties. He forgives all your sins, heals all your diseases. He redeems your life from the pit, surrounds you with steadfast love and mercy… " Whereas in the first Psalm the individual has only his "bones," his skeleton, suffering from hunger and clinging to life, the second turns to those enjoying divine blessings of goodness and bounty and calls on them to praise the Almighty, the source otheir prosperity.

With this in mind, the Chatam Sofer proceeds to explain the significance of the prohibition against breaking the bones of thpaschal offering. The miraculous Exodus from Egypt illustrates that fact that although Am Yisrael may be reduced to its bare skeleton, and we often suffer persecution to the point where we stand on the brink of extinction, our bones will never break: "All our bones will say: God, who is like you?" "For in every generation, they arise against us to destroy us, but the Almighty saves us from their hands." We have come awfully close to disappearing from human history on several occasions over the centuries, but from every exile there was an Exodus. We may therefore never break the bones of the korban pesach, for the Almighty never allows a fracture in the skeleton of Kenesset Yisrael.

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