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

Why Did He Take Us Out?

Firstly, a big Mazal Tov to the Perl, Bookbinder and Gordon families on the engagement of Rivkie Perl of Jerusalem to Shalom Bookbinder of Toronto! May the young couple be blessed with great Simcha & Shalom and all good things, עד בלי די!

A Yasher Koach to our dear friend Selwyn Gerber for hosting today's class and for bringing out an exceptional bottle of bourbon in celebration of Rivkie's engagement.

Click here to listen to the shiur, recorded live this afternoon at Gerber & Co.

Why Did He Take Us Out? The Answer is in the Haggadah

Here's a preview: The shiur presents a new understanding of the Haggadah's mysterious line: "יכול מראש חודש, you might think [the story of the Exodus should be told] on Rosh Chodesh... the Torah therefore states, בעבור זה, 'it was for this' - [tell the story] at a time when Matzah and Marror are before you."

In other words, one might have thought Hashem took us out of Egypt because He wanted to rest His Shechina in the Mishkan on Rosh Chodesh Nisan. The Torah therefore teaches us that He did not do it for Himself, He did it for us. Now click on the link and listen, and you will understand. 

Avraham and the Sea: Building Faith in the Conquest of Israel

Dedicated in memory of Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein

לע"נ הגאון רבי אהרן ליכטנשטיין ז"ל 

ראש ישיבת הר עציון

The holidays were established to correspond to the forefathers. Pesach corresponds to Avraham, as [Avraham told Sara] in the verse, “Knead and make [matzah] cakes!” – and this occurred on Pesach. Shavuos corresponds to Yitzchok, for the shofar blast by the giving of the Torah was from the horn of the ram of [Akiedas] Yitzchok. Sukkos corresponds to Yaakov, as the verse states, “and for his cattle he built Sukkos” (Bereishis 33:17).

Tur, O.C. 417

This teaching borders on the mystical and is obviously in need of commentary, but this much is clear: the Avraham/Egypt connection goes well beyond the baking of Matzos. Avraham was personally forced by famine to leave Israel and go down to Egypt – an event that foreshadows our national exile (cf. Ramban to Bereishis 12:10). Moreover, Avraham was told that his descendants would suffer exile and enslavement, followed by an exodus. As we shall see, the unfortunate details of that prophecy predetermined what was to come.

Things started off on a positive note. Hashem promised Avraham that his descendants would be as numerous and uncountable as the stars in the heavens (15:5). The Torah reports that when Avraham heard this piece of good news, “he believed in Hashem” (15:6). However, Hashem then made a second, even greater promise: Avraham’s descendants would inherit the Land of Israel (15:7). Here Avraham asks, “במה אדע” – “How will I know?” (15:8). Avraham wanted an אות, a sign, a guarantee (Rashi to 15:6).

Hashem was upset by this request; He viewed it as a lack of faith on the part of Avraham. “Your first father sinned” (Yeshaya 43:27) when he said, "How will I know” (Rashi ad loc.).

In response, Hashem decreed exile, suffering and slavery for Avraham's children.

“You should know that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs and they will enslave them and afflict them for four hundred years…” (Bereishis 15:13; cf. Nedarim 32a).

Avraham may have sinned, nonetheless, it seems cruel and unusual to punish a nation for the sin of an ancestor (cf. Kli Yakar ad loc.). An excellent explanation for this anomaly is offered by the Alter of Slabodka.

Avraham’s request for a sign was a failure of his otherwise unquestioning, pure faith in God - and this is why Hashem decreed that his descendants must be slaves. There is basic law of spiritual genetics: a weakness in an ancestor will be magnified in his descendants. If Avraham's faith is weak, then his progeny are in danger. Hashem’s plan was to reinforce the faith of the Jewish People through an experience of exile followed by a miraculous redemption, and this is exactly what happened. When the Exodus culminated with the drowning of the Egyptian army in the Red Sea, “The Children of Israel saw what Hashem’s great hand did with Egypt, and they believed in Hashem.” At long last, Avraham’s weakness was fixed. (אור הצפון ח"א, מעמקי האמונה)

The only question is this: Why did it take so long? Were the ten plagues insufficient to prove the power of God? Why did the Jews need the splitting of the Red Sea to restore their faith?  

A more precise understanding of Avraham’s problem will provide an answer.

When Avraham was told that his children will be like the stars of the sky, he believed it. Similarly, Avraham's descendants, the Jewish people, believed Moshe when he told them that Hashem was coming to redeem them (Shemos 4:31). The Jews were on the brink of total assimilation. If Hashem wouldn’t intervene soon, Jewish identity would simply vanish from the earth. Like their father Avraham before them, the Jews appreciated their uniqueness as a nation and they were confident that Hashem would save them from oblivion. (We should note that Hashem took Moshe to task for doubting the faith of the Jews on this point, cf. Shemos 4:1).

However, when Avraham was told about the conquest of Israel, he balked and asked for a sign. Similarly, when Moshe told the Jews that after the Exodus they would march on Israel, they did not listen (Shemos 6:8-9). (The earlier divine message about going to Israel was only for the elders, cf. Shemos 3:16-17.)

The Jews were willing to accept that Hashem would preserve them, but that He would destroy the Canaanite armies and give them the Land of Canaan – that was another story. The plagues indicated nothing on that front. However, when they witnessed the splitting of the Red Sea – which served solely to drown the Egyptian Army – the Jews saw that Hashem was not only in the business of punishing their oppressors but was also willing to destroy the army of their enemy. As they sang afterwards in the song by the Sea, “Hashem is a Man of War!” (Shemos 15:3). This realization educated the Jews about the true nature of their relationship with the Creator. He isn't just the God of the forefathers. He is the King and Commander-in-Chief of the Jewish Nation!

It wasn’t only the Jews who appreciated the implications of the split sea. “Nations will hear and tremble; terror seized the inhabitants of Philistia. Then the chiefs of Edom panicked, trembling took hold of the heroes of Moav, all the inhabitants of Canaan melted…” (Shemos 15:14-15). As the Jews sang these stanzas, their fear of the Canaanites melted and their faith in Hashem hardened.

This explains why Hashem drowned the Egyptian Army, but it raises a new problem. If the splitting of the sea was designed to rectify weakness in faith, how then could the Jews fall? How could a nation that witnessed God’s infinite prowess and love ever put their faith in a man-made idol? The answer is that a Jew named Micha took an idol with him across the sea (Sanhedrin 103b). This treasonous act undermined the very faith that the sea was meant to fix. The idolatry of Micha found its way to Dan in Northern Israel and, unsurprisingly, it was the worship of his idol that ultimately led to the exile of the Jews from their land (cf. Shoftim 18:30; see this post).

Paganism is a resilient virus and its tragic consequences haunt our people throughout all of our long history. Its modern-day forms may take on a more sophisticated guise, but fundamentally, it’s all the same. To be blunt, humans have to believe in something. If that something isn’t Hashem, you’re pagan.

II

Apparently, the land grant of Israel is in some way more incredible than the miracle of Jewish survival. Avraham asked for a sign, the Jews of Egypt wouldn’t listen, and even as they were preparing to invade Canaan, the princes of Israel still didn’t believe it (cf. Bamidbar 13:31-33). (Sadly, to this day, our rights to our homeland continue to be questioned by many of our own people.)

Why is it so hard to believe that the Land of Israel is the Land for Israel?

Rashi, in his very first comment on the Torah, addresses a most basic question: Why did Hashem include the creation story in the Torah? It should suffice for us to know our obligations, the mitzvos. Why spend so many verses describing a creation that we can’t fathom anyway? Rashi explains that if the nations of the world would ever accuse the Jews of stealing the land from the Canaanites, if the UN or the EU dare describe it as the "occupation of Palestine," Parshas Bereishis will come to our defense. Hashem created the universe, ergo the earth is the Lord’s. He can grant the land of Israel to whomever He wishes, and He can take it away from them and give it to the Jews. (It goes without saying that the King of kings is perfectly just. Hashem told Avraham explicitly that the Jews will not be able to defeat the Canaanites until the Canaanites themselves deserve to defeated due to their own sins, cf. Bereishis 15:16.)

The potential accusation of theft against his descendants undoubtedly concerned Avraham. Avraham’s life mission was educating society about the infinite compassion of the Creator and his greatest fear was that the people would misunderstand the true nature of God. (This is why Avraham consulted with Mamre before performing circumcision, cf. Rashi Bereishis 18:1; Bereishis Rabba 46:3, and this was also undoubtedly part of the challenge of the Akeida.) The truth is, Hashem is also deeply concerned about what the gentiles think of Him. When there is a mistaken impression that God is malicious or weak, or that His Chosen People are corrupt, it is a “Chillul Hashem,” a desecration of Hashem’s reputation. This reverses the spiritual progress of humanity and nothing upsets Hashem more than that. Twice Moshe saved the nation by leveraging Hashem’s distain for it (Shemos 32:11-12; Bamidbar 14:13-16) and no other sin is less forgivable (Yoma 86a). The evil of Chillul Hashem can never be overestimated.

So when Hashem told Avraham that He would give the land of the Canaanites to the Jews, Avraham immediately feared the inevitable Chillul Hashem. Unaware that the Torah would include the creation story as a response, Avraham asked for a sign. A clear divine sign would prove to all the world that God designated the Land of Israel for His Chosen People, and no one could ever accuse the Jews of being thieves.

III

There is another way to interpret Avraham's fateful request; one rooted in its historical context.

The story begins with a war (cf. Bereishis 14:1-16). Four kings battled against five in central Israel, and when the dust cleared, Avraham’s nephew Lot was held captive. Avraham mustered his men and handily, or better said, miraculously, routed the enemy and conquered almost the entire country. I say almost because his advance stopped at Dan in the north. Avraham was weakened at Dan because he foresaw that his descendants would worship an idol there (Rashi to 14:14).

It was after his conquest of Israel that Avraham received the prophecy about Egypt and this is what makes Avraham’s request for a sign so difficult to comprehend.

Was Avraham unaware of the basic principle of מעשה אבות סימן לבנים, the actions of the forefathers are a sign for their children? Was it just a coincidence that Hashem waited until after Avraham’s victory before promising that his children would inherit the land? Is it not obvious that Hashem orchestrated Avraham’s conquest of Israel in order to forge the path for the future? (Hashem’s initial promise to give the land to his children also only came after Avraham’s arrival in Israel, cf. 12:1,7.) In short, Avraham is himself the very sign he is asking for!

The answer is that Avraham was acutely aware that his own life story foreshadowed the future history of the Jewish people – and this is exactly what made him nervous. Avraham was worried about what happened in Northern Israel, at Dan. If his own conquest of Israel was incomplete, what does that portend for his descendants? 

(There is a cause and effect problem here. Was Avraham's failure to capture Dan a sign of future exile, or was the idolatry of the Jews the cause of Avraham's failure to capture Dan? The answer, of course, is both.)

Avraham's question was this: if the Jews will worship idols, how will they remain secure in their land? The Land of Israel has no tolerance for paganism. The Torah states in no uncertain terms that if and when the Jews turn to paganism, they can expect famine and exile (Devarim 11:16). Avraham’s glorious precedent of conquest includes the seeds of its own undoing!

This thought was followed by an even more disturbing realization. If my descendants will worship idols, wondered Avraham, doesn’t that imply that there is a flaw in me? מעשה אבות סימן לבנים. If my children turn away from God, I must be lacking in my faith! Give me a sign, Avraham begged Hashem, give me a sign that will strengthen my faith so that my descendants won’t turn pagan! This is the meaning of Avraham’s request.

Hashem’s response was this: Signs and miracles are not the way for you, Avraham. If you want to strengthen your faith then we will have to take a different approach. “Know that your children will be enslaved…”

Hashem presented Avraham’s faith with the ultimate challenge: the predetermined suffering of unborn children. As Avraham surrendered before the unknowable mystery of God’s ways, his faith hardened. And as Avraham’s faith hardened, it became an ever stronger foundation and an ever deeper fount of inspiration for his progeny, the Jewish Nation of the future.

There is an elegant symmetry here. The foreknowledge of the Egyptian exile and exodus functioned to strengthen the faith of our father Avraham and the experience of it functioned to rebuild the faith of his descendants, the Jewish People. 

The power of the Exodus has not faded. To this day, more than any other mitzvah, Jews turn to Pesach as both the expression of and the source for their faith in Hashem.

IV

There is yet another way to interpret the conversation between Hashem and Avraham, one rooted in the chronology of events at the ברית בין הבתרים, the “Covenant Between the Halves.” Our discussion thus far has focused on the verbal dialogue and we have ignored the central element of the ברית, the element from which it takes its name. The cutting of animals in half.

Hashem said [to Avraham], “Take for Me three calves, three goats, three rams, a turtledove and a young dove.” He took all these [animals] for Him, split them down the middle and placed each piece facing its counterpart...

And behold! A smoking furnace and a torch of fire passed between the parts. On that day Hashem established a ברית, a covenant, with Avram, saying, “I have given this land to your descendants…” (15:9,17,18)

Rashi (15:10) explains:

The verse does not depart from its straightforward meaning. [The reason for this strange ritual] is because Hashem was establishing a covenant with Avraham to keep His promise to grant the land of Israel to his descendants, as the verse states, “On that day Hashem established a ברית with Avram, saying…”

It was the custom of those entering into a ברית to split an animal and walk between its halves, as we find later in Yermiyah (34:19)… Here too, the smoking oven and flaming fire which passed between the parts was the agent of the Shechina, which is fire.  

Timing is significant. Hashem told Avraham to split the animals immediately after Avraham asked, “How will I know,” and immediately before Hashem tells him about the future enslavement of the Jews. It is for this reason that Rashi (15:6) offers an alternate reading of the dialogue between Hashem and Avraham.

When Avraham asked, “How will I know that I will inherit Israel,” he wasn’t asking for a sign. He was asking what merit will enable the Jewish People to maintain their hold on their land. Hashem responds by telling Avraham to collect all the animals that are used for offerings. The meaning is clear. Hashem is saying that the Jews will survive in Israel in the merit of animal sacrifice.

Why animal sacrifice? How does animal sacrifice secure our homeland? The answer can be found in a Rambam.

The Rambam proposes an interesting theory to explain the meaning and purpose of animal offerings. In ancient societies, pagans deified the cow, the goat and the ram. To this day, pagans still consider it a severe sin to slaughter their sacred animals. The Torah therefore commands us to slaughter these very animals as offerings to the One God. By violating the animals pagans deem sacred, we reject idolatry and internalize the truth: Hashem is the only power on earth. (cf. Moreh Nevuchim 3:46).

In light of this teaching, we can understand Hashem’s answer to Avraham’s question. Avraham wanted to know what merit the Jews could rely on to secure their home in Israel. Avraham had good reason to be concerned. As we have learned, Avraham foresaw the idolatry of his descendants and he knew that idolatry means exile. Hashem’s answer was animal sacrifice. As the Rambam wrote, animal sacrifice is the antidote to paganism. If the Jews offer these “sacred” animals to God, it will heal their minds and restore their hearts to monotheism. 

Hashem always provides the cure before the disease.

V

There is a mysterious and manifest parallel between the ברית בין הבתרים and קריאת ים סוף. 

At the ברית בין הבתרים Avraham split the animals in half and Avraham and the Shechina walked between the halves, the Shechina represented by smoke and fire. At קריאת ים סוף, Hashem split the Red Sea in half and the Jewish People and the Shechina walked between the halves, the Shechina represented by a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire (Shemos 13:22). The similarities are undeniable. It is no coincidence that the same word גזרים, “torn parts,” is used to describe both the animals (Bereishis 15:17) and the sea (Tehillim 136:14).

Clearly, Hashem wished to evoke His covenant with Avraham at the Red Sea. In light of all we have learned, this makes perfect sense. The Alter of Slabodka taught us that the splitting of the sea fixed Avraham’s failure of faith, and we explained how: at the sea the Jewish People saw firsthand that Hashem was prepared to annihilate armies for them. So here at the sea, with the Jews filled with perfect faith, Hashem revisits and reaffirms the ברית, His age-old promise to deliver them to their homeland.

On a deeper level, the splitting of the sea can be seen as Hashem’s long-delayed answer to Avraham. At the ברית בין הבתרים, when Hashem promised to grant the Land of Israel to his descendants, Avraham asked “How will I know?” Avraham wanted a miraculous sign, a divine guarantee that the Jews would conquer and live securely in their land. Centuries later, Hashem reenacts the ברית and splits the sea. That act revealed God to be a “Man of War,” prepared to defeat the armies of the Canaanites, and it also fortified the faith of the Jews, a necessary prerequisite for their security in Israel. “The Children of Israel saw... and they believed in Hashem.” קריאת ים סוף is the sign Avraham was asking for and it affirmed the ברית בין הבתרים for all the world to see.

The Tur taught us that Pesach corresponds to Avraham. Said differently, the Exodus was Hashem’s way of picking up on an ancient conversation – and the delay was an essential part of the message. 

When speaking to God you have to deal with the divine clock, but that shouldn't be a problem. If you have faith, you have patience.

On the Cultivation of Humility

New shiur on the early life of Moshe, recorded this week at the offices of Gerber & Co. 

To listen now or download for later, just click here.

Ask Not? The Elephant in the Haggada

Chodesh Tov!

 

The first shiur of Beth Jacob's annual "Passover U" program was delivered today at the offices of Gerber & Co.

 

To listen to (or download) a recording of today's shiur, click here. For recordings of previous years' shiurim, click on the "Passover" label below.

 

Special thanks to our dear friend Selwyn Gerber for sponsoring and hosting. Yashar Koach!

God Wants... You? A Retelling of the Exodus Story

Click the link below for a recording of today's Pre-Pesach shiur at Gerber & Co.
In this shiur we pose a basic theological question: What motivated God to redeem the Jews? The answer may surprise you. In the process, we reevaluate the place of the individual vis-à-vis the community, finding interesting clues expressed both in the Mishkan and at the Seder. To summarize our conclusions on this front:
"Ask not what you can do for your community; ask rather, what is your community doing for you!"

The Mishkan, the Golden Calf & the Exodus:

Searching for a New Abraham

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!

Shiurim on the Haggadah

Two classes on the Haggadah for your listening pleasure, both delivered at Gerber & Co. in Century City, Los Angeles.

• "Maggid: Four More Questions" (2009)

• "Break the Matzah; Reveal the Jew" (2010)

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.

Why is this Kosher Different?

If you’ve walked into the kosher section in Molly Stones or Albertsons recently then you know that “Kosher for Passover” is a whole new ballgame. It’s not just a matter of raising standards for the holiday. On Monday night the laws of Kashrut will change.

Foods that were perfectly kosher all year round will suddenly become non-kosher when Passover begins. For all eight days of the holiday, the consumption of “Chometz” is strictly forbidden. Chometz is leavened dough, so bread, crackers, cookies, doughnuts, cereal, pretzels, etc., are all removed from the Jewish diet.

Beyond the familiar restrictions on eating, there is another law about Chometz that is virtually without parallel. A Jew may not even possess Chometz on Passover. With the exception of an idol, there is no other biblical restriction on Jewish ownership. You can keep a pet pig, but not Chometz on Passover. Why not? For the answer to this basic question about Chometz we must first understand a thing or two about Matzah.

On the first night of Passover, at the same time that Chometz is forbidden, it becomes a mitzvah to eat “Matzah.” What is Matzah? Flour and water – the exact same ingredients as Chometz! If Chometz and Matzah have the same ingredients, what is the difference between the two?

The difference is time. Chometz is dough that has been given time to rise; Matzah is dough that was baked before it had the chance to rise. This is the only distinction between the two items, but this little distinction makes all the difference in the world. Chometz is a sin and Matzah is a mitzvah.

What is the meaning of this? Why is the Torah making such a big deal differentiating between two virtually identical things? And what does any of this have to do with the Exodus from Egypt?

In the Haggadah we read the following:

Why are we eating this Matzah? Because the dough of our ancestors did not have a chance to rise before the King of Kings, the Holy One (may He be blessed), revealed Himself to them and redeemed them. The Torah states: “They baked the dough that they had brought out of Egypt into Matzah cakes, since it had not risen. They had been driven from Egypt and they could not delay…” (Shemot 12:39)

This explains where the idea of Matzah comes from and what it commemorates, but it does not suffice to answer our question. It’s sad that the Jews were rushed out of Egypt and didn’t have a chance to bake some proper bread or cake for the trip, but how much significance does this really have? Why does Matzah become an eternal mitzvah? Why does Chometz become taboo? We cannot know the mind of G-d, but there has got to be some point here that we can comprehend.

What is the difference between a freeman and a slave? What does a freeman have that a slave does not? The answer, in a word, is time. A freeman owns his time; a slave does not. A slave cannot choose how to spend his time, for his time does not belong to him – it belongs to his master. When a slave gains freedom then the question of how to spend his life becomes his own responsibility.

The ultimate crime of the freeman, or the freed slave, is to waste the precious time that G-d has granted them on this earth. Wasted time transforms Matzah into Chometz and Mitzvah into Sin. Time allows latent bacteria to fester in dough. It leavens and ferments, eating away at the starch and sugars, and punching holes in the dough with its carbon dioxide byproduct. It might taste great, but when you think about it, it’s disgusting. The dough is rotting! This is exactly what happens to the slave who does not put his newly acquired freedom to productive use.

A Jew has no right to squander or misuse time. Why did G-d take us out of Egypt? Why did He free the Jewish slaves? So they could smoke marijuana and sleep on a beach? Watch movies and play video games? Drink martinis and shoot pool? Sit around and let the dough rise? No. G-d took the Jews out of Egypt in order to bring them to Sinai and give them Torah and Mitzvot. To waste time, to waste a Jewish life – for this we were never granted freedom. Our freedom, the ownership of our time, is sanctified and limited to the sphere of Torah.

On Passover, not only don’t we eat Chometz; we don’t even possess it. Freedom is not ours to waste.

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.