S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT YITRO

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            The first verse of Parashat Yitro tells that Moshe’s father-in-law, Yitro, heard of “all that God did for Moshe and for His nation, Israel.”  In response to the news that he heard, Yitro decided to join Benei Yisrael in the wilderness of Sinai.  Rashi famously comments that the two events which inspired Yitro were the miracle of the splitting of the sea, and Benei Yisrael’s war against Amalek.  It was in response to specifically these two events that Yitro made the decision to join Benei Yisrael.  Many different explanations have been offered throughout the ages for why particularly the splitting of the sea and the campaign against Amalek had such an impact upon Yitro.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Graubart, in his Yabia Omer, suggests that what impressed Yitro was Benei Yisrael’s response to the Amalekite assault despite the recent event of the splitting of the sea.  The miracle of keri’at Yam Suf (the splitting of the Sea of Reeds) was characterized by Benei Yisrael’s complete passivity, as God took full control of the situation through supernatural means.  Moshe proclaimed just prior to the miracle, “The Lord shall wage war for you, and you shall remain silent” (14:14).  This event was marked by human inaction; the happy ending was brought about exclusively by God’s miraculous intervention.

            After experiencing such an event, most nations would have anticipated a similar divine response upon subsequently being confronted by another hostile nation.  One might have expected Benei Yisrael to react to Amalek’s attack by “remaining silent” and allowing God to wage their battle for them – just as He waged their battle against the pursuing Egyptian army.  But this is not at all how the people responded.  Despite having no prior military experience, and despite having witnessed the great miracle of the sea just several weeks earlier, Benei Yisrael took up arms and made their effort to defend themselves against the enemy.  They were wise enough to understand that God’s ability to overturn the natural order does not mean that He will.  To the contrary, being God’s nation means assuming personal responsibility in caring for ourselves and the world, trusting that He will then “fill in the gaps” and take over when we’ve exhausted our capabilities.

            And this, perhaps, is precisely what inspired Yitro to join Benei Yisrael.  It was not simply the miracle at the sea – rather, it was the nation’s perspective after experiencing that miracle.  They did not fall into the trap of relying on God’s miraculous intervention to resolve every crisis while they remain blissfully passive.  Instead, they realized that although God can suspend nature’s laws, He generally demands that we invest our own efforts within nature’s laws to improve our plight and to improve the world.

SUNDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Yitro describes the event of Ma’amad Har Sinai, the Revelation at Mount Sinai, which was preceded by three days of preparation.  God, speaking to Moshe before the three days of preparation, instructed him to warn Benei Yisrael not to approach the mountain during the Revelation, warning that those who touch the mountain would die (19:12).  Then, at the time of the Revelation, God reiterated to Moshe this warning and again commanded him to urge the people not to approach the mountain (19:24).

            Rashi explains, “Warn them a second time – for one should warn a person before the action and then repeat the warning at the time of the action.”  The first warning was issued in advance of the Revelation, as the people prepared for the event, and the warning was then repeated at the time when it became practically relevant.  Rashi’s comments do not explain, however, why the warning required this repetition “bi-sh’at ma’aseh,” at the time when it became applicable.  Why was it not sufficient to warn the people in advance?

            Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky, in his Emet Le-Yaakov, suggested that this particular warning required special emphasis and reinforcement because of the nature of the offense entailed.  In most instances, the grave consequences of sin serve as a formidable deterrent.  Rabbi Yehuda Ha-nasi famously advised, “Calculate the loss incurred by a mitzva against its reward, and the reward gained through sin against the lost incurred by it” (Avot 2:1).  An effective obstacle to transgression is considering that what one stands to lose by committing the act far outweighs that which one stands to gain.  But in the case of Matan Torah, this calculation may not have been sufficient to deter the people from approaching the mountain.  Chazal describe the experience of “basking in the radiance of the Divine Presence” (“nehenin mi-ziv ha-Shekhina”), the reward promised for the righteous in the next world, as the greatest of all delights.  Some among Benei Yisrael might have considered suffering the consequences of violating the restrictions at Matan Torah in order to experience this delight of being near the Divine Presence when God descended upon the mountain.  This spiritual euphoria, in their minds, might have been worth the grave repercussions of transgressing God’s command.  Therefore, Moshe was instructed to issue an additional warning against approaching the mountain.

            There is no legitimacy to a “spiritual experience” that entails disobeying God’s commands.  Halakhic infractions cannot be justified as means of drawing close to God.  As in the event of Matan Torah, there are times when we are specifically enjoined to keep a distance.  The greatest “spiritual experience” we can have is living in faithful and obedient service of God, obeying His commands no matter what they entail.

MONDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Yitro identifies the names of Moshe’s two sons, and provides the reasons underlying these names (18:3-4).  The first son was named Gershom, a derivative of the word “ger,” or “foreigner.”  The Torah explains that Moshe lamented his plight at the time of his older son’s birth, crying, “Ger hayiti be-eretz nokhriya” (“I have been a stranger in a foreign land”).  The name of his second son, we are told, was Eliezer, a composite of the two words “E-li ezri” (“my God is my helper”).  Moshe announced, “The God of my father has helped me, and saved me from the sword of Pharaoh,” expressing his gratitude to the Almighty for enabling him to escape execution after killing an Egyptian taskmaster (2:15).

            Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks, in his Menachem Tziyon, observes that these two names reflect the proper attitude with which we should view our turbulent national exile.  On the one hand, we must recognize that “I have been a stranger in a foreign land.”  We must never fully resign ourselves to the abnormal condition of galut, or accept it as a permanent and tolerable situation.  It is critical that we continue to lament and bemoan our condition, as Moshe did, to recognize our status as “strangers in a foreign land” rather than accepting this condition as normal and satisfactory.  At the same time, however, we cannot allow this condition to cause us despondency.  We, like Moshe, must exuberantly proclaim each day of our exile, “The God of my father has helped me, and saved me from the sword of Pharaoh.”  We cannot focus only on the pain and sorrow that the exile has caused us; we must also acknowledge our miraculous existence and give thanks to the Almighty for rescuing us, time and time again, from our ruthless foes.

            Thus, a Jew’s outlook on adversity must be a complex one.  We are entitled, and in fact urged, to bemoan our troubles and implore the Almighty for salvation.  However, this does not undermine our obligation to feel and express gratitude for all that God has done for us, to recognize the fact that, despite the problems and challenges we confront, “the God of our fathers has helped us” and allowed us to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.  Even as we lament, we must give thanks.  Although our condition is far from perfect, and one to which we may not resign ourselves, it behooves us to celebrate our victory of survival despite the centuries of exile and persecution.

TUESDAY

            In Parashat Yitro we read about the Revelation at Mount Sinai and the proclamation of the Ten Commandments, which include the command, “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat le-kadesho” – “Remember the Shabbat day, to make it sacred” (20:8).  The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (106a) famously cites this verse as the Biblical source for the obligation of kiddush on Shabbat: “Remember the Shabbat day, to make it sacred – mention it over wine when it enters.”  The clear implication of the Gemara’s comment is that the requirement to recite kiddush over a cup of wine when Shabbat begins constitutes a Torah obligation.  This is indeed the view taken by several Rishonim, including the Ran in Pesachim and Rashi in Masekhet Berakhot (20b).  The Rambam, however, in Hilkhot Shabbat (29:6), writes explicitly that although the recitation of kiddush constitutes a Biblical obligation, the requirement to make this declaration over a cup of wine was enacted by Chazal.  This is also the position taken by the Semag (asei 29).  In their view, it seems, the Gemara cited this verse only as the source for the obligation to recite kiddush, but not for the requirement to use wine.  This is the position accepted by many Acharonim (including the Sha’agat Aryeh, 60, and Magen Avraham 271:1).

            Leaving aside the question as to whether the Torah obligation includes the cup of wine, a separate question arises concerning the precise definition of the requirement to recite the kiddush text.  The Rambam defines the mitzva as an obligation to recite “zekhirat shevach u-kdusha” (“a mentioning of praise and sanctity”).  In his view, it appears, the Torah requires making mention of the unique stature of the day of Shabbat, verbally describing the day as a sacred occasion.  The Ramban, however, in his commentary to this verse, appears to explain this commandment differently.  He draws a comparison between the obligation of “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat le-kadesho” and the obligation to formally declare the jubilee every fiftieth year (“Ve-kidashtem eit shenat ha-chamishim” – Vayikra 25:10).  According to the Ramban, it seems, the mitzva is defined not as verbally acknowledging the holiness of Shabbat, but rather as declaring the onset of a period of sanctity.  Just as the Bet Din is enjoined to formally announce the onset of the jubilee, similarly, each individual is obligated to make a formal declaration of the onset of the sacred seventh day.

            Rav Asher Zelig Weiss, in his Minchat Asher, notes that these different definitions of the mitzva may affect the status of the related obligation of havdala.  The Rambam defines the mitzva of “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat le-kadesho” as requiring making a declaration when Shabbat begins and ends – clearly indicating that the Torah obligation includes both kiddush and havdala.  Both when Shabbat begins and when it leaves, one must verbally describe the sacred period of time that has just begun or ended.  Rav Weiss notes that according to the Ramban’s definition, it would be difficult to include havdala in the Torah obligation.  As mentioned, the Ramban understood this obligation as requiring the announcement of the onset of Shabbat.  Quite obviously, this definition necessarily restricts the obligation to kiddush, which we recite when Shabbat begins.  It is likely that the Ramban viewed havdala as an obligation enacted by the Sages, rather than part of the Torah obligation of “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat le-kadesho.”

            Another issue that might be affected by this debate, as Rav Weiss discusses, is the famous ruling of Rabbi Akiva Eiger (glosses to the Shulchan Arukh, O.C. 271) concerning the status of the traditional “gut Shabbos” greeting.  Rabbi Akiva Eiger asserted that extending this greeting to one’s fellow on Shabbat suffices to fulfill the Torah obligation of “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat le-kadesho,” as it constitutes a verbal declaration of the onset of Shabbat.  Seemingly, Rav Weiss observes, such a possibility can be considered only within the position of the Ramban, who defines the mitzva in terms of an announcement that Shabbat has begun.  According to this definition, we may indeed entertain the notion of fulfilling this obligation through any verbal acknowledgment of Shabbat’s onset.  The Rambam, however, explicitly requires expressing “praise and sanctity” in order to fulfill the mitzva.  Indeed, the Bei’ur Halakha questioned Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s ruling in light of the Rambam’s definition of the mitzva.  Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s position likely presumes the definition of the Ramban, according to which, perhaps, any verbal recognition of Shabbat’s onset suffices to fulfill the mitzva.

            The conclusion of this analysis, Rav Weiss adds, is that according to all opinions, wishing one’s fellow “a good week” after Shabbat does not suffice for fulfilling the obligation of havdala.  As we saw, Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s theory regarding “gut Shabbos” applies only within the Ramban’s definition of the kiddush obligation, and the Ramban’s definition applies only to kiddush, and not to havdala.  Accordingly, we cannot extend Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s ruling to havdala, and thus wishing somebody “a good week” would certainly not suffice to fulfill one’s obligation of havdala.

WEDNESDAY

            The first of the Ten Commandments (according to the more commonly accepting numbering) is that of “Anokhi Hashem Elokekha asher hotzeitikha mei-eretz Mitzrayim mi-beit avadim” – “I am the Lord your God who took you from the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage” (20:1).  This verse, according to the Rambam and others, establishes the obligation of belief in the Deity.

            Ibn Ezra, in his Peirush Ha-arokh, famously records the question posed to him by Rabbi Yehuda Halevi as to why God describes Himself in this verse as the Lord who took the Israelites from Egypt, as opposed to the Creator.  If God here introduces the obligation to believe in a Divine Being, it would seem more reasonable for Him to describe Himself as the Creator, rather than the Being who released Benei Yisrael from Egypt.  Commentators throughout the ages (including Rabbi Yehuda Halevi himself, in Sefer Hakuzari 1:25) have offered various different answers to this question.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains that God here seeks to dispel the possible misconception that the Being who spoke to Benei Yisrael at Sinai was not the God who released them from bondage.  Rav Ginsburg notes a number of Midrashic sources that record the claim made by Korach, during his revolt against Moshe’s authority, that the laws taught by Moshe imposed a greater burden upon the nation than the Egyptian bondage.  Korach and his followers contended that the God who released the nation from slavery could not possibly wish to then “enslave” them by casting upon them the burden of mitzvot as instructed by Moshe.  If He is the God of freedom, who intervened to emancipate a slave nation, then He certainly would not then make them His slaves.  Undoubtedly, Korach argued, Moshe invented all these laws for his own purposes, to further a personal agenda, and did not actually hear this information from God.

            Similarly, as Benei Yisrael stood at Sinai and beheld the revelation of a Divine Being issuing commands, they may have assumed that this Deity is a different Being than the one who released them from Egypt.  After all, the God who redeemed them from slavery is the God of freedom, who advocates the right of all people to act as they choose without any restrictions or obligations.  The God they beheld at Sinai, however, is strict and harsh, imposing His will upon people and insisting that they follow a detailed and demanding creed.  The contrast between the two, as perceived in the people’s minds, may have led them to the heretical belief in two distinct Supreme Beings – a God of freedom, and a God of subjugation.

            For this reason, the first words uttered by the Almighty as He revealed Himself to Benei Yisrael were “I am the Lord your God who took you from the land of Egypt.”  God had to first establish that the same God who released Benei Yisrael from Egyptian bondage now appears to them to issue His commands.  He is both the God who abhors slavery and the God who demands unfailing fealty to His laws.  He firmly opposes the right of one people to subjugate another, but also requires that we live our lives as His loyal subjects.

            This verse thus proclaims that the God of the Exodus is, indeed, the God of Sinai, that the “freedom” to which He brought Benei Yisrael is not the freedom to live the lifestyle of our choice, but rather the freedom to devote our lives to fulfilling His will.

THURSDAY

            Parashat Yitro tells of the Revelation at Sinai and God’s proclamation of the Ten Commandments, which conclude with the command of lo tachmod: “Do not covet your fellow’s house; do not covet your fellow’s wife, or his servant, his maidservant, ox, donkey, or anything belonging to your fellow” (20:14).

            The Pesikta Rabbati (21) comments, “For this reason the Ten Commandments conclude with lo tachmod – to teach you that one who covets transgresses all of them.”

            Why does the Midrash equate the violation of lo tachmod with the violation of all Ten Commandments, which (quite likely) represent the basic laws and values of the Torah’s creed?

            It would seem that the Pesikta here points to the theme of restriction as one of the fundamental principles underlying Torah law.  The concept of mitzvot is that we must draw limits, that our behavior is bound to the domain which the Torah deems acceptable.  This might explain the prominence of “hagbala” (“restriction”) in the nation’s preparations for the event of Ma’amad Har Sinai.  God emphasizes to Moshe on several occasions in the period of preparation that he must assign a borderline around Mount Sinai, beyond which the people would be forbidden to tread when God descends upon the mountain.  On one level, of course, these repeated warnings were necessary due to the concern that some members of the nation would want to draw too close to the Divine Presence.  Additionally, however, this emphasis might reflect the fundamental theme of “hagbala” which, to one extent or another, defines Torah observance.  Torah commitment means confining oneself to the kind of conduct required and sanctioned by the Torah, and never stepping outside those bounds.

            Thus, the Pesikta viewed the prohibition of lo tachmod as a reflection of the entire basis of Torah law.  Observing lo tachmod means recognizing the boundary line that separates one person’s property from the possessions of others, accepting the basic notion of limitation and restriction.  Accepting this concept is akin to accepting the basic principle underlying Torah observance generally.

            In the Aleinu prayer we speak of our hopes for the time when God will “correct the world through the Kingdom of Sha-ddai.”  The Divine Name of Sha-ddai, as the Gemara explains in Masekhet Chagiga (12), refers to God’s being “the One who said to the world, ‘Enough’” (“she-amarti la-olami ‘Dai’”).  Meaning, this Name reflects not God’s power to create, but rather the power to stop creating, to discontinue the process of genesis.  Many of the ills that have plagued mankind throughout the ages is people’s inability to say, “Enough,” to limit themselves to what they have been given and stop the natural inclination to continue obtaining more.  In the times of Mashiach, the world will be “corrected” through “the Kingdom of Sha-ddai,” as people once and for all follow the Almighty’s example of restraint and limitation, setting boundaries on their personal domains without constantly pursuing more.

(Based on Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks’ Menachem Tziyon)

FRIDAY

            Parashat Yitro begins with the story of Yitro’s arrival at the Israelite camp, and his recommendation that Moshe should establish a judicial network to assist him in handling the nation’s civil suits.  The Torah tells that Yitro observed Moshe presiding over legal disputes “from morning until evening” (18:13).  The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (10a), cited (with variation) by Rashi, comments that this description must not be understood literally.  Moshe did not actually preside over court cases “from morning until evening.”  Rather, this verse means that “every judge who renders a true judgment, even for one moment, becomes a partner with the Almighty in the act of creation.”  According to the Gemara, the phrase “from morning until evening” is a reference to the world’s creation, and alludes to the fact that by judging truthfully, Moshe became God’s “partner,” as it were, in the process of creation.

            The Gemara’s comment is reminiscent of the 82^nd chapter of Tehillim, which was composed by the Psalmist Assaf and laments the failure of the judges to render truthful judgment.  He observes how the judges favored specifically wicked litigants and neglected their duty to protect the rights of the weaker members of society.  In verse 5, Assaf bemoans the judges’ failure to understand that “the foundations of the earth will collapse,” that a fair, capable judiciary is crucial for maintaining the “foundations” of society.  They did not recognize the importance of fair and honest judgment in enabling people to live together peacefully.  Assaf concludes this Psalm by appealing to God to judge over the earth (“Kuma Elokim shofta ha-aretz”).  In the absence of honest and upright mortal judges, we can take solace only in the fact that it is ultimately the Almighty who judges the earth.  If the human judges fail to rescue the underprivileged from their oppressors, then we must appeal to God to do this job in their stead.

            This chapter of Tehillim is read each week as the shir shel yom (daily Psalm) for Tuesday.  The Gemara in Masekhet Rosh Hashanah (31a) explains that on the third day of creation, God “prepared the earth for his congregation.”  It was on this day that God brought all the world’s waters together to form dry land, thus preparing the world for its inhabitants.  We therefore read on this day the Psalm which begins, “God stands among the congregation of the Almighty.”  Just as God formed dry land to facilitate human life, similarly, a capable judiciary is what facilitates human society.  It keeps away the raging waters of crime and corruption, so that people could lead peaceful, prosperous and productive lives on earth.

            “Every judge who renders a true judgment…becomes a partner with the Almighty in the act of creation.”  Rendering fair judgment in effect continues God’s work of facilitating human life.  The honest judge thus becomes the Almighty’s “partner,” doing his share in making the earth a hospitable place.