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PARASHAT BESHALACH

Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Beshalach tells the stirring story of the splitting of the Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds). Before the sea split and allowed Benei Yisrael passage, saving them from the pursuing Egyptians, the fleeing slaves found themselves hopelessly trapped, and expressed their fears and frustrations to Moshe. Moshe reassures them, "Have no fear! Stand by, and witness the deliverance which the Lord will work for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again" (14:13). The straightforward reading of this verse, as explained by Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor in his commentary to the verse, is that Moshe guarantees the people that they will never again see their former Egyptian oppressors. The Mekhilta, however, as well as the Talmud Yerushalmi (Sukka 5:1), interpret this verse as introducing a prohibition against residing in Egypt. Moshe not only reassures Benei Yisrael of their successful escape from Egypt, but also forbids them to again settle in their former country of enslavement.

In these sources, Chazal point to two other verses where this prohibition is reiterated. In Parashat Shoftim, Moshe establishes the guidelines relevant to the Israelite king, including the prohibition against his owning an excessive number of horses. Moshe there explains, "Moreover, he shall not keep many horses or send people back to Egypt to add to his horses, since the Lord has warned you, 'You must not go back that way again'" (Devarim 17:16). Here Moshe states clearly that God has forbade Benei Yisrael's return from Egypt. The third source appears later in Sefer Devarim, in the closing verse of the "tokhecha" - the list of calamities that Moshe warns will befall Benei Yisrael should they neglect God's commandments. His final warning foretells, "The Lord will send you back to Egypt in ships, by the route which I told you that you should not see again" (28:68).

The Rambam lists this prohibition against dwelling in Egypt in his Sefer Ha-mitzvot (mitzvat lo ta'aseh 46), and he codifies these laws towards the end of his Mishneh Torah, in Hilkhot Melakhim (5:7). Based on the Talmud Yerushalmi (Sanhedrin, end of chapter 10), the Rambam qualifies this prohibition, limiting it to permanent residence; one may, he writes, go to Egypt as part of one's business enterprises, and a Jewish army may pass through Egypt on its way to capture other territory.

The Gemara (Sukka 51b) records as evidence of this prohibition's severity the tragic end of the large and prosperous Jewish community of Alexandria, Egypt. The entire community, the Gemara tells, was killed by Alexander the Great, a disaster the Gemara attributes to their violation of this prohibition against residing in Egypt.

Later scholars struggled in search of some basis of justification for the many thousands of otherwise observant and even prominent Jews who lived in Egypt. No less a personage than the Rambam established permanent residence in this country, seemingly in clear violation of this halakha that he himself had codified. The work "Kaftor Va-ferach" (chapter 5) cites an alleged, bizarre report by a descendant of the Rambam that the Rambam indeed confessed to having violated this prohibition, and would in fact make a note to this effect alongside his signature at the end of all his letters. The "Kaftor Va-ferach" then suggests that perhaps the Rambam was compelled to stay in Egypt due to his job as the Egyptian king's personal physician. His residence there could thus be justified on the grounds that any attempt to leave might have threatened his life.

The "Kaftor Va-ferach" proceeds to cite a view that defines the prohibition as forbidding only traveling from Eretz Yisrael to Egypt by way of the wilderness. According to this view, we must read very literally the verses in Sefer Devarim which speak about returning to Egypt "by the route" in which they left. Needless to say, this position does not accommodate the verse in Parashat Beshalach, which simply states that one "shall not see" Egypt again, regardless of the route. The "Kaftor Va-ferach" perhaps felt that the verse in Parashat Beshalach, which, as mentioned, appears to refer to a promise, rather than a prohibition, is not an actual source of this prohibition.

In any event, this position of the "Kaftor Va-ferach" appears in other sources, as well, but in different variations. The Sefer Yerei'im (309) suggests that the Torah forbids traveling from Eretz Yisrael from Egypt, but does not specify that one violates the prohibition only by traveling by way of the desert. Accordingly, one who travels by boat from Eretz Yisrael to Egypt would, indeed, violate this prohibition. This is the position also of the Semag (lo ta'aseh 227) and the Mordekhai (end of eighth chapter of Yevamot). The Ritva, however, in Masekhet Yoma (38a), cites Rabbi Eliezer of Metz - author of the Yerei'im - as maintaining that only traveling to Egypt from Eretz Yisrael by way of the desert violates this prohibition. This appears to negate the implication of the actual text of the Yerei'im, which, as mentioned, appears to indicate that any trip from Eretz Yisrael to Egypt (for purposes of permanent residence) violates the prohibition.

Rav Menachem Kasher zt"l, in a thorough essay on this topic (Torah Sheleima, Parashat Beshalach, appendix 2), questions this theory in light of the Yerushalmi's and Rambam's suggestive silence in this regard. As we saw, both these sources explicitly qualify the prohibition, limiting it to permanent residence; this would seem to imply that no other qualifications apply. It would thus appear that the Yerushalmi and Rambam would not permit one to settle in Egypt even if he arrives there from a country other than Eretz Yisrael.

Rav Kasher further challenges this position on the basis of the aforementioned verse in Parashat Ki-Tavo, the third verse where the Torah mentions the prohibition against living in Egypt. The Torah warns that God will bring Benei Yisrael back to Egypt in ships, "by the route which I told you that you should not see again." Clearly, then, the maritime route from the shores of Eretz Yisrael to the Mediterranean ports of Egypt is included under the prohibition. In fact, the Midrash Lekach Tov in Parashat Beshalach comments on that verse in Parashat Ki-Tavo, "Come and see the extent of the power of sin," for as punishment for our wrongdoing, God will have us transgress yet another prohibition, by bringing us back to Egypt on ships. This clearly suggests that the prohibition is not limited to the desert route. What more, as Rav Kasher notes, several verses earlier the Torah warns that Benei Yisrael would be scattered throughout the nations (Devarim 28:64). Quite possibly, then, the warning of Benei Yisrael's return to Egypt refers to their return to Egypt from other countries, not from Eretz Yisrael. If so, then this verse demonstrates that the prohibition applies to relocating in Egypt from any country, and not just from Eretz Yisrael.

As Rav Kasher notes, however, we may resolve this difficulty against the position of the "Kaftor Va-ferach" based on Abarbanel's interpretation of that verse in Sefer Devarim. Abarbanel interprets the verse to mean that God will bring Benei Yisrael to Egypt specifically by boat, because He had told them not to return there along the same route along which they departed. If we accept this reading, then this verse clearly accommodates and in fact corroborates the position of the "Kaftor Va-ferach," limiting the prohibition to returning to Egypt along the desert route from Eretz Yisrael.

*****

Yesterday we discussed the prohibition against settling in Egypt, which, according to the Mekhilta, the Torah introduces in Parashat Beshalach (14:13). As we saw, despite the fact that this prohibition is well-established and codified by the Rambam, many otherwise observant Jews - including the Rambam himself - indeed settled in Egypt. Today we will explore several other attempts that have been made to justify these communities' residence in that country. (The sources for this discussion have been taken from Rav Menachem Kasher's "Torah Sheleima," Parashat Beshalach, appendix 2.)

One view, cited by the Ritva (Yoma 38a), Yerei'im (309) and Mordekhai (Yevamot, end of eighth chapter), claims that this prohibition no longer applies because the ancient Egyptian population has long since been displaced. According to this view, the people and cities of Egypt are different from those that existed during Biblical times, and thus the prohibition no longer applies. The Yerei'im, however, dismisses this theory, arguing that the prohibition does not depend at all on the Egyptian population, but involves the territory itself. Even if we accept the historical theory that the land of Egypt is no longer inhabited by the same peoples as resided there in Biblical times, this would not affect the prohibition.

Apparently, the view cited by these Rishonim claimed that the prohibition indeed depends on the population, rather than the geographical territory. Rav Menachem Kasher suggested that this may very well have been the position of the Rambam, who, in Sefer Ha-mitzvot (lo ta'aseh 46), gives the following reason for this prohibition: "in order that we will not learn their heresy and we will not follow their ways, which are reprehensible as far as the Torah is concerned." If, indeed, the Torah forbade returning to Egypt solely to prevent Benei Yisrael from imitating the Egyptians' beliefs and conduct, it stands to reason that this prohibition applied only when the Biblical Egyptians lived in Egypt. Once the country was inhabited by other peoples, the prohibition no longer obtains.

Rav Kasher adds that he indeed found an explicit source to this effect - a manuscript entitled "Chem'at Ha-chemda," which writes, "It appears to me that this prohibition was due to the ancient Egypt, to which Israel were subjugated. But this [Egypt, of nowadays,] is different, that arose anew after Nevkhadnetzar destroyed Egypt… " The "Chem'at Ha-chemda" claims that this theory is the basis on which many righteous Jews, including the Rambam, permitted themselves to reside in Egypt.

Finally, the Ritva suggests that the prohibition against living in Egypt applies only when the Jewish people reside in Eretz Yisrael. However, the Ritva claims, once Am Yisrael was driven into exile, "all of the Diaspora is the same," and there is no difference between living in Egypt and living anywhere else outside Eretz Yisrael. This position becomes a bit clearer in light of the comments Rav Kasher cites from the Maharshal, who explains that when Benei Yisrael live as they are meant to live, as an independent nation in Eretz Yisrael, the Almighty wanted to ensure that we see ourselves as His servants, rather than slaves to Egypt. When Benei Yisrael live in exile, however, then in any event we are in a state of servitude, of sorts, to foreign nations, and thus this prohibition does not apply.

*****

The haftara for Parashat Beshalach, which is taken from the book of Shoftim, tells the famous story of Benei Yisrael's victory over Yavin, king of Chatzor, under the leadership of the prophetess Devora. The haftara's opening verse (according to the custom of the Ashkenazim) describes Devora as "the wife of Lapidot" (Shoftim 4:4). The Midrash (Eliyahu Rabba, 9) claims that "Lapidot" was not actually the name of Devora's husband, but rather describes one activity in which he involved himself, in the merit of which his wife earned prophecy. According to the Midrash, Devora's husband was an am ha-aretz - an ignorant, simple Jew. Devora one day said to him, "Come, I will make for you wicks; bring them to the Temple in Shilo, so that your lot will be among the virtuous among them [Israel], and you will earn the world to come." The Midrash tells that Devora's husband would prepare particularly thick wicks so that the light of the menora in the Mishkan will produce a strong flame, and for this reason the verse refers to him as "Lapidot," which literally means, "torches." (According to Rashi, in his commentary to this verse, it was Devora herself who prepared the wicks, whereas the Eliyahu Rabba implies that her husband prepared the wicks.) As the Midrash records, God rewarded Devora and her husband for their involvement in the production of wicks for the Mishkan, and indicates that it was in this merit that Devora earned the mantle of leadership in this generation.

Why would this particular mitzva - the production of wicks - render Devora and her husband worthy of such a privilege and distinction?

On one level, this Midrash underscores the importance of even seemingly minor and trivial acts. Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Musar Ha-nevi'im," explains the message of this Midrash as follows: "A person shall not say: Look, I am a simple person and I have no share in Torah and scholarship, and for this reason I don't have the ability to reach a high level in piety and good deeds.' For in truth, this is not the case." Rav Ginsburg draws a parallel between this Midrash and a different passage, in Vayikra Rabba (9), which attributes King Shaul's merit to kingship to the fact that his grandfather lit candles to illuminate the paths leading to his local study hall. One need not distinguish himself as an outstanding scholar or prominent community leader to make a contribution and impact upon Am Yisrael. Sometimes, even the seemingly trivial acts can go a long way in defining a person's mark on the world.

However, Rav Elchanan Bin-Nun, in his "Hareri Oz" on Sefer Shoftim, suggests placing this Midrash in the more specific context of the condition of Am Yisrael during Devora's time. It appears that during the period of the Shoftim, Benei Yisrael had become disinterested in the Mishkan, they no longer felt a connection with the Shekhina's residence among them. Indeed, we find hardly any mention of the Mishkan throughout Sefer Shoftim (until the sefer's final chapter). The story told in the Midrash, of Devora encouraging her unlearned husband to prepare wicks for the Mishkan, perhaps reflects a more general campaign to which she devoted herself - to increase her spiritually lethargic generation's involvement in the Mishkan. The "thick wicks" prepared by Devora's husband likely symbolize the intensive efforts they undertook in inspiring the people of the time to return to their source, in shining the light of Torah and spirituality throughout the nation.

If so, then Devora naturally earned the mantle of leadership by involving herself tirelessly in awakening her generation and enhancing their connection to the Almighty. Benei Yisrael's victory over Yavin thus marks not only a military triumph, but also a critical spiritual achievement brought about through Devora's efforts in "increasing the light" of the Mishkan, ensuring that the radiance of the Shekhina would once again cast its glow upon the entire nation.

*****

Parashat Beshalach tells of the manna - the miraculous food that fell from the heavens to feed Benei Yisrael throughout their forty-year journey in the wilderness. This narrative begins with Benei Yisrael's complaints against Moshe and Aharon: "The whole Israelite community grumbled against Moshe and Aharon in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them: If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots, when we ate our fill of bread!" (16:3). At face value, Benei Yisrael's complaints appear to disclose new information regarding their conditions as slaves in Egypt, namely, that they had plenty of food. But was this indeed the case? Did the Egyptians really feed their slaves to the extent where the Egyptian exile could be nostalgically described as "sitting by the fleshpots"?

This issue appears to be subject to a debate between the two "Mekhiltot" - the Mekhilta of Rabbi Yishmael, and the Mekhilta of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. The Mekhilta of Rabbi Yishmael cites Rabbi Elazar Ha-modai as affirming the straightforward reading of this verse, that Benei Yisrael indeed ate meat heartily in Egypt. According to the Mekhilta of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, by contrast, Benei Yisrael fabricated this "memoir"; they were not, in fact, given any meat in Egypt. This second view, of course, must justify Benei Yisrael's claim in this verse, that their carnivorous life in Egypt was far preferable than their current conditions in the wilderness. While we can perhaps appreciate the challenges and hardships of traveling with families in the desert, the question remains, why would they describe their experiences in Egypt with fabricated nostalgia?

A different approach to this verse emerges from the Midrash Rabba (Shemot Rabba 16:4), which notes that Benei Yisrael here do not actually reminisce about having eaten meat in Egypt, but rather about "sitting by the fleshpots." For in fact, the Midrash tells, the Egyptian lords would force the Hebrew slaves to prepare meat for them, without allowing them - the slaves - to eat any of it themselves. Thus, according to the Midrash Rabba, Benei Yisrael here do not lie; they depict their experiences in Egypt precisely as they remember them: they did not partake of meat, but at least they had the fleshpots nearby.

Needless to say, this approach, too, requires an explanation. Why would Benei Yisrael express their preference for this type of torment - being forced to prepare and smell fresh meat while being denied even a small morsel - over their current conditions in the wilderness?

The answer, it would seem, involves the fundamental understanding of this entire episode, developed by VBM editor Rav Ezra Bick, in a VBM shiur for this parasha a number of years ago. Rav Bick noted an important difference between the Torah's presentation of Benei Yisrael's complaint in this context, and the other two instances in this parasha where Benei Yisrael complain to Moshe about their conditions in the wilderness. In the other two instances (see 15:22-3; 17:1), the Torah introduces the narrative by describing the crisis that suddenly surfaced: "they traveled three days… and found no water"; "They encamped at Refidim, and there was no water." No such description of crisis appears at the introduction of the manna narrative. Benei Yisrael accuse their leadership of bringing them into the wilderness to die of starvation, but the Torah itself does not mention anything of a sudden shortage of food. This anomaly led the Ramban to conclude that Benei Yisrael here respond not to a present shortage of food, but rather to the prospect of a future shortage of food. The Torah introduces this incident by emphasizing the nation's location - in the Wilderness of Sin, in between Eilim and Sinai (16:1). Benei Yisrael suddenly find themselves in the middle of nowhere, far away from the resources of Eilim (see 15:27) but still at a distance from their destination - Mount Sinai. They begin to wonder how they will find food for themselves and their families in such a region. Their bags were still full of provisions, but they feared what might happen when their supplies begin to dwindle.

This understanding of Benei Yisrael's complaint helps explain as well their "fond memories" of the fleshpots of Egypt. What they actually ate in Egypt is not the issue; they emphasize here instead the availability of food, the security of knowing that the cupboards were stocked. As slaves in Egypt, Benei Yisrael knew that the Egyptian lords would feed them to keep them healthy and strong. They now long for that sense of security, the comfort of knowing that there is plenty of food on the shelf for tomorrow and the next day.

Appropriately, God responds to their complaints by providing them with a daily ration of manna. This initially agonizing situation, of being unable to store even a crumb for the next day, will train Benei Yisrael to now look to God as they had looked at their Egyptian overlords, to depend on His grace with the same security and trust that they showed for their former oppressors. They would then come to realize that ultimately, it is God alone who provides man with his needs, and we must therefore look to Him as the ultimate source of our livelihood and sustenance.

*****

Parashat Beshalach records the famous "shirat ha-yam" – the song of praise sung by Benei Yisrael immediately following the miracle of the splitting of the Yam Suf. Towards the end of the shira, Benei Yisrael foresee the building of the Beit Ha-mikdash: "You will bring them and plant them in Your own mountain, the place You made to dwell in, O Lord, the sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands established" (15:17).

Rashi, based on the Midrash, takes note of the reference to God's "hands" establishing the Beit Ha-mikdash, and contrasts this verse with a verse in Sefer Yeshayahu (48:13): "My hand founded the earth." Whereas the earth itself is said to have been created by only a single "hand" of God, the Temple is described in the shira as having been established by both of God's "hands." Rashi thus concludes, "Beloved is the Bet Ha-mikdash, for the world was created with but a single hand… but the Mikdash, with two hands." Rashi then adds, "And when will it be built with two hands? At the time when 'the Lord will reign forever and ever' – in the future, when all kingship will be his."

How might we understand this concept of the "hand" or "hands" of God building the earth and the Bet Ha-mikdash?

Rav Shlomo Yosef Zevin zt"l, in his "Le-Torah U-le-mo'adim," explains by taking a closer look at the verse in Yeshayahu which the Midrash cites. The complete verse reads, "My hand founded the earth; My right hand spread out the skies." The prophet appears to distinguish between God's "right hand," which fashioned the skies, and "My hand" – presumably the "left hand" – which "founded the earth." This distinction, Rav Zevin suggests, relates to the fundamental distinction between heaven and earth. Generally speaking, divine revelation occurs only in the heavens, and not on earth. The heavens are controlled by God's "right hand" – a term that generally denotes prominence and strength, a reference in this context to the overt manifestation of God's presence and dominion. The earth, by contrast, is associated with the less dominant "left hand"; there, God's presence is not manifest with nearly the same clarity and transparence as in the upper spheres. Man's job is to look beyond the veil of nature and happenstance, and acknowledge God's existence and dominion even down on earth.

This goal is achieved most powerfully through the Temple, the site where heaven and earth converge, where man feels God's presence most directly and serves Him with particular intensity and closeness. The Bet Ha-mikdash is thus constructed by both of God's hands, so-to-speak. At the time when "the Lord will reign forever and ever," when He once again establishes permanent residence in the Mikdash, there will no longer be any separation between the two "hands," between heaven and earth. God's manifestation on earth will then correspond to His revelation in the heavens, as mankind will once and for all acknowledge and feel His presence and kingship, as clearly and directly as do the ministering angels in the heavens.

*****

The Torah tells in Parashat Beshalach that when Benei Yisrael saw the pursuing Egyptian army, they "cried out to the Lord" (14:10). Targum Onkelos translates this phrase as, "u-z'iku Benei Yisrael kadam Hashem." As the Ramban explains, Onkelos interprets the verse to mean that Benei Yisrael did not pray to God, but rather shouted angrily at God. These cries were not cries of sincere prayer and supplication, but rather of protest and rebellion. It is likely that Onkelos adopted this interpretation in order to accommodate the immediately following verses: "And they said to Moshe: Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, taking us out from Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, saying, 'Let us be, and we will serve the Egyptians… '?" Clearly, Benei Yisrael would not cast such harsh words of condemnation at Moshe while sincerely and genuinely appealing to God for compassion. Accordingly, Onkelos interprets the first verse to mean not that Benei Yisrael prayed, but rather that they shouted angry words of protest. (We find in the Midrashim other approaches to resolve the seeming contradiction between these verses. Some sources indicate that different groups among the people responded to the situation differently – some with prayer, others with anger. The Mekhilta claims that after Benei Yisrael prayed and felt that God did not answer them, they resorted to rebellion.)

Onkelos' reading of this verse may help shed light on Rashi's otherwise enigmatic comments (based on the Mekhilta): "They grabbed onto the practice of their patriarchs… " Rashi emphasizes the fact that Benei Yisrael followed the practice of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, who, as Rashi then demonstrates from verses in Sefer Bereishit, made a practice of praying to God. Why must Rashi emphasize the fact that Benei Yisrael "held onto" this practice? Quite possibly, Rashi – who was obviously quite familiar with Onkelos' translation – sought to specifically oppose Onkelos' reading, and thus emphasizes the point that Benei Yisrael prayed, rather than rebelled.

The question, however, remains, why did Rashi feel compelled to mention to tradition of prayer, which Benei Yisrael had received from the patriarchs and now follow? What does their prayer at the banks of the Yam Suf have to do with the prayers of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov?

Rav Yerucham Lebovitz zt"l suggested that this comparison reveals a critically important and fundamental concept regarding prayer according to Jewish thought. As mentioned, Rashi cites three verses from Sefer Bereishit which tell of the patriarchs praying. The first (Bereishit 19:27) deals with Avraham's appeal on behalf of the city of Sedom. In the second (Bereishit 24:63), we find Yitzchak going out in the afternoon to pray in the wilderness, without any particular event prompting his worship. Likewise, the third citation (Bereishit 28:11) tells of Yaakov praying as he made his way to Charan – a prayer which the Midrash understands as uttered only because Yaakov could not allow himself to pass by the future site of the Temple without praying (see Rashi, Bereishit 28:17). Rav Lebovitz notes that all these three instances of prayer share a common feature: the prayers were not prompted by any immediately threatening crisis. In fact, the Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (26b) cites these same three verses as sources to the patriarchs' having established the three daily prayers. These prayers, then, were not in response to any danger or threat, but rather comprised the routine order of prayers instituted by the patriarchs.

Herein, Rav Lebovitz suggests, lies the significance of the Mekhilta's comment, cited by Rashi, "They grabbed onto the practice of their patriarchs." Benei Yisrael's prayer at Yam Suf, recited with the raging waters in front of them, the Egyptian army behind them, and the searing desert around them, represents the same form of worship in which the patriarchs engaged. Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov prayed to the Almighty with the same sense of urgency and desperation that accompanied Benei Yisrael's appeal for compassion as they stood at the shores of Yam Suf. Just as Benei Yisrael understood and sensed at that moment that they have no other force in the world on which to rely, that no one other than God could possibly help them, so did the patriarchs live each day with this awareness. Even when no specific, tangible threat confronted them, they still sensed their helplessness and absolute dependence on God.

Unfortunately, daily prayers often lack the sense of urgency and desperation that accompany our prayers during times of immediate crisis and danger. This Midrash, as explained by Reb Yerucham, reminds us that in truth, every moment is one of immediate crisis and danger. Once we believe that our lives and fate depend on the Almighty's grace, then we realize how fragile our seemingly stable and secure condition truly is, and we will then pray with more heartfelt emotion and a greater sense of urgency.

*****

We read in Parashat Beshalach that after Benei Yisrael cross the Sea of Reeds and enter the wilderness of Shur, they suddenly confront a dire water crisis. After not finding any water source for three days, they arrive at Mara, where all they discover is undrinkable water. God shows Moshe a branch to cast into the water and thereby miraculously purify it, rendering it drinkable. This narrative concludes, "There He made for them a statute and law, and there He put them to the test" (15:25).

According to most commentators, the "statute and law" established in Mara refers to a number of Torah laws that God conveys to Benei Yisrael at this point. Even though Matan Torah (the giving of the Torah) would occur only several weeks later, when God would reveal Himself to the nation at Sinai, already here at Mara He instructs Moshe to teach Benei Yisrael a small sampling of laws. According to Rashi, who cites from the Midrash, Benei Yisrael here are introduced to the mitzvot of Shabbat observance, para aduma (the red heifer, the ashes of which are used in the process of ritual purification), and civil laws. The Ramban, by contrast, claims that "statute and law" refer to the rules, regulations and procedures that would apply to the nation during their period of travel in the wilderness. Moshe here informed them of what they should expect during travel, and established certain guidelines regarding the people's social interaction during this period.

The Rosh Yeshiva, HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein shlit"a, once posed a very simple question concerning Rashi's view. If, indeed, God here presented several specific mitzvot of the Torah, why does the Torah not specify these mitzvot? Why does it mention them only in a very generic sense – "there He made for them a statute and law"?

Apparently, Rav Lichtenstein explained, the focus here is not on the particular mitzvot introduced, but rather on the very concept of "mitzva" which Benei Yisrael are taught at Mara. Each mitzva of the Torah features two elements: the particular meaning and significance unique to that mitzva, and, in addition, its general significance of having been issued as a command from God. Irrespective of a given mitzva's specific importance, it bears significance by virtue of the fact that it represents the will of God. And it is this, generic aspect of mitzva observance that underlay Benei Yisrael's educational experience at Mara. As part of their preparation for Matan Torah, Benei Yisrael had to grow accustomed to coming under the Almighty's charge, to unconditionally accepting His commands and responding with unwavering obedience. The Torah here omits any reference to the particular mitzvot conveyed at Mara because the identity of these mitzvot are – in this context – of far less importance than the mere fact that they are divine commands.

Rav Lichtenstein added that if this is the case, then the inclusion of para aduma among the mitzvot taught at Mara takes on special significance. This mitzva has always been perceived as the quintessential "chok" – a law whose reasoning eludes human comprehension and even defies man's logic. It might be said that this mitzva, more than any other, underscores the notion of unconditional obedience to the divine imperative, and one's total submission to God's will and command. And this is precisely what Benei Yisrael had to begin to inculcate as they prepared to receive the Torah at Sinai.

We might add that this lesson Benei Yisrael are taught at Mara very closely relates to their initial experience in this location – the sweetening of the contaminated waters. Just as the Almighty showed Moshe how to sweeten the water, so will He convey to Moshe instructions for how Benei Yisrael must live their lives. And just as Moshe obediently cast the specified branch into the water, despite the lack of any rational explanation as to why this would positively affect the water, so must Benei Yisrael follow God's word unconditionally, even when the underlying rationale eludes them.