From Purim to Passover

Click the link below to listen to the fifth annual Anita Rossman Memorial Lecture, delivered last night in Santa Cruz, California.

From Purim to Passover: Lessons from Queen Esther on Courage, Sacrifice, and Redemption

Out of Egypt: Yosef's Bones & Michah's Idol

Part-one of this post dealt with the foreshadowing of our story back in Parshas Lech Lecha. Read it here.

When the time comes for the Jews to leave Egypt, the state of their spiritual health is the question of the hour. After so many years of slavery, what remains of their faith and identity? Actually, this is the central question for all the rest of Chumash. How much damage has Egypt inflicted on the soul of the Jew?

The answer is sad. At the Red Sea, the angels of heaven famously questioned God, "Both the Jews and the Egyptians are idolators! Why are You saving the Jews and killing the Egyptians?!" The Jews were so assimilated, even the angels couldn't tell them apart from Egyptians. But in order for the Jews to merit an Exodus from Egypt, they must first get Egypt out of their system. How is this going to be accomplished?

First, they will have to disavow Egyptian culture. Second, they must affirm their Jewish identity. And indeed, Hashem commands them to do these two things before they leave the country. First they were commanded to slaughter a sheep - an animal sacred to the Egyptians - and place its blood on their doorposts (12:6-7). In this way, they rejected Egyptian paganism. And then they were told to circumcise themselves, affirming their identity as Jews (12:48). It was due to the merit of these two mitzvos that the Jews were able leave Egypt (cf. Rashi to 12:6).

As we have seen, this was unfortunately insufficient. At the Red Sea the angels still couldn't tell the difference between the Jew and the Egyptian. For the sea to split, the merit of an even greater rejection of Egyptian culture was needed and this was found in none other than the bones of Yosef.

"The Sea saw and fled" (Psalms 114:3). It saw the coffin of Yosef descending into the sea. Hashem said, "Flee before the one who fled!" As the verse states, "He left his garment with her and fled and went outside" (Bereishis 39:12). (Yalkut Shimoni 873)

Like his forefather Avraham before him, Yosef was a man of steel, uninfluenced by the fleshpot of Egypt. And in the end, it was the bones of Yosef HaTzaddik, the bones which withstood the seductions of exile, that split the sea.

It is perfectly natural to be seduced. But when man refuses to be assimilated into his environment and transcends his nature, then man is truly free - and nature itself will transcend its laws in his service and deliver him to freedom.

But the bones of Yosef was not the only unusual baggage the Jews carried across the sea. The Talmud tells us that the spoils of Egypt included some contraband as well.

"A rival crossed the sea..." (Zechariah 10:11). R. Yochanan said, "This refers to idol of Michah."

Sanhedrin 103b

The Red Sea was not amused.

The administering angels were astounded. "People who worship idols walk on dry land in the midst of the sea?!"

How do we know that even the sea itself was filled with anger? For the verse states והמים להם חמה  - "The water was a wall for them" (Shemos 14:29). Don't read it חומה, "wall," rather read it חימה, "anger." ["The water was angry at them."]

Mechiltah; see Baal HaTurim ad loc. that the anger was due to the presence of Michah's idol.

[The word for wall - חומה - is spelled here in abbreviated form without a ו (as opposed to just a few verses earlier (14:22) where it is spelled with a ו). This allows the word to be vowelized in a way which transforms its meaning from "wall" to "anger."]

We learned that the sea split before the bones of Yosef, for Yosef withstood the seductions of Egypt. The Red Sea is willing to violate the laws of nature in deference of one who transcends human nature, but it is rightly incensed to have to stand as a wall before Jews who succumb to paganism and dare carry the idols of Egypt across its seabed.

Read part-three here.

Something for your Seder

Two new classes about Pesach. The first was delivered back on Parshas Bo and it's entitled, “Defeat of the Control-Freak: How the Tenth Plague destroyed Pharaoh.” The second is just a few days old: "Neutralizing the Marror with Charoses."

For more audio and articles about Pesach, click on the Passover label below.

Chag Sameach & Gut Yom Tov!

Invasion of the Mind Snatcher

Everyone knows the story. Even if you haven’t read the book, you probably saw the movie. Devastating plagues, death of the first born, Jews are rushed out, etc. However, there is one question about the Exodus that few dare to ask. Did the Jews really deserve to be saved?

The Midrash is not afraid to raise this uncomfortable question and its conclusion is… no. The Jews did not deserve freedom. (Or, at least, they did not deserve the miracles necessary to get them out.) In as much as God wanted to punish their oppressors, the Jews were stuck in Egypt until they earned the right to an Exodus. In other words, the Jews were in desperate need of a few good mitzvot.

R. Masyah ben Charash said, “The verse states, ‘I (God) passed over you, and I saw you, and behold, your time was a time of loving’ (Yechezkel 16:8). The time has come for the [fulfillment of the] oath I made to Avraham to redeem his children, but they have no mitzvot to perform to be [worthy] of being redeemed! This is the meaning of the verse, ‘…and you were naked and bare’ (ibid 16:7). [You were] naked of mitzvot. [God] therefore gave them two mitzvot: the blood of the Paschal lamb (Shemot 12:7) and the blood of circumcision (Shemot 12:48)…

Mechilta Bo 5; Rashi 12:6

The Midrash is saying that the Jews got the mitzvot of the Paschal lamb and Brit Milah before they left Egypt because they needed these mitzvot in order to get out. The concept is a compelling one, but it raises two questions. First of all, what’s the deal with all the blood? And second, what is it about these mitzvot that makes the Jews worthy of freedom?

It would take a great Kabbalist to divine the full answer to our questions, but personally, I am satisfied with a very simple observation. These two mitzvot are hard. Bloody hard.

The difficulty of circumcision is self-evident, but the Paschal lamb was no picnic either. Lambs were sacred to the Egyptians. To kill one and eat it was to commit a sacrilege – and no one knew this better than Moshe himself.

After plague number four, when Egypt was attacked by hordes of wild animals, Pharaoh summoned Moshe and Aaron to the palace.

“Go!” he said. “[You have permission] to sacrifice to your God here in [our] land.”
“That would not be proper,” replied Moshe. “What we will sacrifice to God our Lord is sacred to the Egyptians. Could we sacrifice the sacred animal of the Egyptians before their very eyes and not have them stone us? What we must do is make a three day journey into the desert…”

8:22-23

Moshe rejected the possibility of slaughtering sheep in Egypt; it was just too dangerous. But God commands the Jews to do just that!

Circumcision and slaughtering a lamb are two things that the Jews would never think of doing on their own – and that is why they are the perfect mitzvot for earning freedom. By choosing to do these mitzvot, the Jewish ex-slaves flexed their spiritual muscles, exercised their free will, and demonstrated their ability to rise above self-interest. It was this self-sacrifice for mitzvot, this allegorical blood, which made the Jews worthy of the Exodus and primed them for the covenant at Sinai.

In contrast with the heroic Jews, we have Pharaoh. Once the powerful king of the Egyptian Empire, the Pharaoh of Bo is a pathetic figure. In our parsha, we actually watch the man fade away into nothingness. Due to a series of unnatural disasters, his country is ruined and his approval rating hits rock bottom. But the situation is more frightening than that. Not only has Pharaoh lost control of his country, he has also lost control of his mind.

God said to Moshe, “Go to Pharaoh. I have made his heart stubborn…”

10:1

Pharaoh may have wanted to let the Jews free, but God forced him to say no. God invaded Pharaoh’s mind and seized control of his decision making process. In effect, Pharaoh is dead. What remains is nothing more than a puppet of God.

The Egyptians fared no better. Right before the Exodus, God told the Jews to “borrow” valuables from the Egyptians.

God said to Moshe, “Please speak in the ears of the people: Let each man request from his fellow and each woman from her fellow gold and silver articles…

11:2

It’s fine to ask, but why would any Egyptian in their right mind give stuff to the escaping slaves? The answer is that they were not in their right minds.

God made the Egyptians like the [Jewish] people, and they granted their request. [The Jews] thus drained Egypt [of its wealth].

12:35

The Mind Snatcher strikes again! Just like He did to Pharaoh, God invades the minds of the Egyptians and makes them do something they really, really don’t want to do.

What is going on here? Is this God’s idea of a practical joke? Actually, right from the start, the parsha promised us an entertaining show.

God said to Moshe, “Go to Pharaoh. I have made him and his advisors stubborn… so you can tell your children and your grandchildren how I made a laughingstock out of Egypt…”

10:1-2

God’s mind control games may be funny (in a slapstick kind of way), but God is quite serious here. The extraordinary power and wealth of ancient Egypt corrupted Pharaoh and his people. They allowed self-interest - the drive for cheap labor and a strong economy - to overrun basic morality. They abused their power and trampled on the human rights of the Jews. They became evil.

The Egyptians had their fun for a time, but one day, the God of Justice arrives. He devastates Egypt with ten plagues, and relieves the Egyptians of their slaves and their valuables. And then God takes away the most valuable thing of all – free will.

God is telling us something here. Our decision making process, our innate moral compass, our unique ability to choose, in short, our bloody humanness, is a divine gift. Treasure it, nurture it, exercise it and strengthen it with mitzvot. Because if you don’t, you may very well lose it.

The Firstborn Syndrome

The centerpiece of our parsha is the dreaded Tenth Plague. For the first time since creation, the Almighty Himself descends to Earth. Idols melt, the first-born Egyptians die and Pharaoh chases the Jews out of his land. The game is over.

It’s a great climax, however, some elements of this story are just baffling. In preparation for the plague, the Jews are commanded to take a lamb, slaughter it and smear its blood on the doorposts of their homes. If that weren’t strange enough, the Jews are told that this mitzvah is necessary for their own protection.

The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are staying. I will see the blood and pass over you. There will then not be any destructive plague on you when I strike Egypt. (Shemot 12:13)

The Torah takes this very seriously. At the end of the parsha we find a mitzvah for future generations called “Pidyon HaBen,” the “redeeming” of the first born son.

You must redeem every firstborn among your sons. When your son later asks you, “What is this?” you will say to him: “G-d took us out of Egypt, from the house of slaves, with an outstretched arm. When Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us leave, G-d killed all the firstborn in Egypt… I therefore redeem all the firstborn of my sons.” (Shemot 13:13-15)

What is the meaning of this? Wasn’t the idea of the Tenth Plague to punish the Egyptians and redeem the Jews? Why would the Jews be in danger? And why, of all things, is blood on a doorpost the sign that protects them?

Another question. Why is G-d performing this plague? For the first nine plagues, using Moshe and Aaron as G-d’s agents worked just fine. Why is number ten different?

These are big questions and the full answer probably requires some knowledge of Jewish mysticism. Yes, some things are even beyond Rabbi Gordon. Here we will present some ideas that will, hopefully, at least scratch the surface. If you are still unsatisfied, please contact your local orthodox Kabbalist.

If we are going to understand anything at all, we must begin with an even more basic question. What is the idea of killing the Egyptian firstborn? Without doubting the morality of capital punishment or second-guessing divine justice, we can still ask why the firstborn are being singled out. Is there possibly some deeper message in the Tenth Plague?

Whenever we hear the word “firstborn,” the book of Genesis comes to mind. From the very first firstborn (Cain) who murdered his younger brother, through the string of firstborns who were stripped of their birthright (Yishmael, Esav and Reuven), firstborns haven’t come off looking very good. There must be some connection here, but barring a divine vendetta against first-born boys, what is it?

Well, what does a firstborn symbolize? What is a firstborn in the abstract? For the answer to this question, we would do well to confront the realities of birth order effects. While stereotyping is unfair, studies published by Frank J. Sulloway in his book "Born to Rebel" support some common observations:

Firstborns dominate and reign supreme in their world. Idealized and idolized by parents and siblings alike, firstborns sometimes end up being aggressive, exacting, fearful and concerned with power. As many parents can attest, the jealousy and anger of older siblings toward their younger brothers and sisters can be fierce. (Yehuda, if you’re reading this, please don’t take it personally!)

Egypt had a bad case of the firstborn syndrome. They were the superpower, but frightened by the success of the Jews, they oppressed them. The Egyptians answered to no one, not even G-d. They abused the power of their position and refused to be humbled (cf. 10:3), so G-d humbled them and eliminated their firstborn, both allegorically and literally. G-d then grants national firstborn status to the Jewish people.

You must say to Pharaoh, “This is what G-d says: Israel is My son, My firstborn.” (Shemot 4:22)

If the book of Genesis is the story of firstborns abusing their siblings, disgracing their birthright, and witnessing the transfer of primacy and legacy to their younger brothers as a result, then the book of Exodus is the very same story writ large.

This is all fine and good, but most of our questions remain unanswered. Why were the Jews threatened by the final plague? Why the need for blood on the doorposts? And why is G-d performing the Tenth Plague all by Himself?

For the answer to these questions, it may be helpful to go back to G-d’s original plan for the universe. In the beginning, throughout the creation story, the Torah used the divine name of “Elokim” exclusively. This name connotes strict justice. However, as soon as creation is complete, the Torah sums it up in the very next verse: “These are the chronicles of heaven and earth when they were created, on the day that Hashem (Y-H-V-H) Elokim completed earth and heaven” (Bereishit 2:4). Here we are introduced to the ineffable four-letter name of G-d, “Y-H-V-H,” the name of divine compassion. Thereafter, the Torah uses both names together. Why the change?

The Midrash explains that initially G-d wished to create a world of strict justice, an “Elokim” universe. However, G-d knew that such a world would quickly be destroyed – man could not long survive under the rule of uncompromising justice and instant retribution. So G-d “partnered” Elokim, justice, with Y-H-V-H, compassion, to create a balanced world of justice and love. Within such a world, man could grow spiritually over time without fear of being struck down by lightening at the slightest sin.

It seems that G-d’s “Plan A” was an idealized, perfectionist, dominating, “Elokim” world. It was G-d’s firstborn, but He nixed it; mortals could never live up to that standard. Compassion was woven into the fabric of justice to create our current, flexible reality.

That was the creation story, but now G-d wants to break the rules. G-d has run out of patience with the Egyptians and He wants to punish them with the full force of His wrath, but there’s a problem. The design of the world incorporates compassion and does not allow for unmitigated justice. So G-d had to take this job into His own hands.

G-d walks into Egypt and all bets are off. The Almighty is in Elokim mode and under such conditions, every other source of power, real or imagined, simply evaporates. Even the firstborn Jews, whom G-d has come to save, are in danger of being overcome by the force of Elokim in their midst. Only one thing can save them. Blood. But not just any blood. The blood of mitzvah.

Only by humbling themselves before the will of G-d, surrendering before the master of life and death, and faithfully offering a sacrifice to the only true power and authority, can the firstborn Jews survive the divine revelation of the Tenth Plague. When G-d sees that, He has found a firstborn He can love.