Feb 7, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, we read of the Israelites departure from Egypt. Pharaoh, the Torah tells us “Had a change of heart” (Exodus 14:5), and decides to pursue the Israelites. The Or Hachayyim comments that an interesting way of looking at this is that when the news reached Pharaoh that the Israelites had “fled”, Pharaoh reconsidered his premise that the Israelite God was all-knowing and all-powerful. This God apparently had been forced to use deception because he was not omnipotent. This is why He kept His intention that the Israelites should depart permanently, a secret up until now. The Torah advisedly speaks of the “levav”, a “dual heart” of Pharaoh undergoing a change. Pharaoh’s considerations were due to conflicting feelings (i.e. two hearts). Originally, Pharaoh had thought that God was unable to orchestrate the Israelites’ exodus. Otherwise, Moses and Aaron would not have had to beg him to let the Israelites go. Next, Pharaoh convinced himself that God’s love for the Jewish people might only be temporary. In the meantime, Pharaoh had come to realize that his estimate of God liking the Jewish people only temporarily had also been wrong. As a result of both considerations of telling him to let the Israelites go, he had done so in the firm belief that there was nothing he could do to stop this process. Now, in retrospect, he realized that he had been wrong after all about the fact that God had lacked the power to orchestrate the Exodus without help from Pharaoh himself. This is why he decided to mount the pursuit.
Pharaoh’s army began their pursuit after the Israelites. The Israelites, seeing the Egyptians close behind them, became frightened. They tell Moses in Exodus 14: 11-13 that they would have rather died in Egypt than in the desert, and that they would have preferred to remain slaves than be killed by the Egyptians. Moses tells the Israelites not to worry, and that “God will do battle for you” (Exodus 14:14). God responds to these events by asking Moses, “Why are you crying out to me?” (Exodus 14:15). The Alshekh asks a flurry of questions about this verse: 1) why did God tell Moses not to cry out, when it had been the people who had cried out, and not Moses? 2) Why did God not tell the people ‘Do not be afraid?!’ instead of ‘keep moving!’ and afterwards that they should move? 3) The word ve-attah, and you, in v.15 and the word va-ani, and I, inverse 17 seem unnecessary, especially since God had already said hineni, I am here? The Alshekh explains that Moses had commenced praying, and had said “God will fight on your behalf.” God said why do you pray to Me? This implies that My (God’s) children are NOT entitled to be saved except by an act of mercy. Let them display faith by marching on, before the sea is split, and justice will save them! The ve-attah, and you, means that in case the children of Israel think that you can perform miracles ONLY with the staff of God. He tells Moses that he should raise his hand over the sea and only then will it be split. Moses was to divest himself of the staff at the moment. There is a tradition, the Alsekh explains, that the reason the Egyptians chose to kill the Jewish babies by drowning was that they knew that the God of the Jews makes the punishment fit the crime. At the same time, they knew of God’s oath not to bring on another deluge. They reasoned that by drowning the Jewish baby boys, they could make themselves immune from retribution. God demonstrated that instead of His bringing on a deluge, the Egyptians themselves would walk into the equivalent of an existing deluge. They had also seen in their horoscope that the Jewish savior would meet his death through water. Therefore, they had decreed a watery death for babies born around the time indicated by the horoscope. Once that date had passed, the decree had been cancelled, since they had considered the potential Jewish savior as having met his death already. God was intent to demonstrate that, on the contrary, the Jewish savior would be the one who would orchestrate the watery death of the Egyptian army. Had Moses split the sea with the staff, no one would have known that it was Moses, the intended victim of the water, who had turned the tables and had victimized the Egyptians be water. The miracle would simply have been ascribed to God’s rod, to the intrinsic power of that instrument. In order for the Egyptians to commit the folly of pursuing Israel through the sea, several things had to occur. Surely, the Egyptians seeing the miracle could not have assumed that it was FOR THEIR benefit. So why did they put themselves at risk? Also, if they assumed that the splitting of the sea had NOT been a miracle, but a freak of nature, how could they take a chance that it would last long enough for them to catch the Israelites, defeat them and herd them back to Egypt? In addition to Moses’ hand and an act of faith by the Israelites who entered the water before it was split, an act of God was needed to cause the Egyptians to expose themselves to the crushing waters when the time came. THIS act by God is what He refers to in v.17, when it says as for me, i.e. va-ani, “here I will greatly strengthen the heart of Pharaoh.” God’s contribution is the greatest, in that He will cause Pharaoh’s desire for revenge and loot to overcome his common sense, and pursue Israel into the depth of the seabed. The rest of mankind will honor God, in turn, when they will reflect on how Pharaoh’s punishment corresponded to his crime. The Egyptians, who will know that I am the merciful God, will be those who had remained behind in Egypt, who had not been punished now, as they had not been as guilty as those who had pursued Israel.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 31, 2025 | Torat Devorah
We read two puzzling statements as God prepares to exact the plagues in this week’s parasha. “And I will pass through Egypt … and I will smite every first-born … and I will exact judgments against all the gods of Egypt. I am God” (Exodus 12:12). Moreover, on that night, “[T]here will be a great cry throughout all Egypt, the like of which never before has been and never again will be. [But] against the Children of Israel no dog shall sharpen its tongue, [not at] a man and [not at] an animal” (Exodus 11:6-7). Two questions arise: First, if there are no other gods besides Him, how can Hashem say he will “exact judgments” against gods that do not exist? Second, what’s with the dogs? We often speak of the Torah as bearing a universal message to all generations, conveying that a Torah message uttered thousands of years ago remains relevant. But here, with these two baffling references that God will exact judgments against gods that do not exist, and the particular emphasis that all dogs will be silent during the tenth plague, perhaps we should reorient the usual approach. Instead of understanding that an ancient image speaks to us today, consider that a Torah image meaningful now was also relevant millennia ago. The god of all life in Egypt was the Nile River, and God Almighty began the plagues by smiting the Nile. The goddess of childbirth in the Egyptian pantheon, the frog goddess Heqet, stood as matron saint of fertility and protector of newborns. So, Hashem directed the second plague at frogs. Other Egyptian gods were assigned to protect the fertility of the land, the animals, the environment. Consequently, one by one, each such god was “smitten,” rendered “powerless” as all-natural order fell before Egyptian eyes. Lice from the ground. Wild animals from out of nowhere.
Rabbi Dov Fischer of Orange County expounds: “There were Egyptian gods conceived as multiannual amalgams. Setekh, for example, had a long snout, pointy ears, a greyhound’s body and an upright tail. But God Almighty rendered judgment over such gods during the fourth plague (arov: mixed animals). Likewise, there was a goddess depicted with a cow’s head, Hathor. The fifth plague nullified cattle. And so, it went. Osiris, the vegetation goddess, could not protect vegetables and fruit from the hail and locust plagues. One by one, every Egyptian god and goddess was eviscerated. Thus, Hashem “exacted judgments” against the “gods of Egypt.” Finally, the darkness. Anubis was a dog- or jackel-God associated with the cult of the dead. “Together with the other canine deities … he presided over the desert of the west, the necropolis land where wolves and jackals lurked, and all were regarded as tombs,” according to Encyclopedia Britannica. Meanwhile, the Egyptian pantheon’s central characters included the sun god, Ra, who “was thought to sail the sky in his boat, and at night to traverse the underworld, battling as he went with the forces of darkness.” As each supposed god in the Egyptian pantheon was overcome, might a believing Egyptian yet place hope in the sun god Ra? Maybe. Each morning, his success in battling the forces of darkness was confirmed with the rising sun. And then came the ninth plague. Through those three days of darkness, Ra ostensibly had been vanquished, leaving Egyptians to rationalize, consistent with their theology, that the dog-gods of death and darkness perhaps now held sway. Moses had warned Pharaoh this all would come to pass by the hand of the God of Israel. But stubborn Egyptian pantheists, typified by pitiful sorcerers who tried competing until skin-boils sent them packing (Exodus 9:11), continued seeking an Egyptian-centric explanation. Perhaps it might have been tempting to attribute sun god Ra’s defeat in this catastrophic war of the gods to the powers of darkness, the gods of the necropolis, who finally had defeated him. Indeed, with the next plague — mass death, delivered with stunning accuracy only to first-born males — it may have seemed certain that the dog-gods of death had conquered, vanquishing all others. It was their night of death to demonstrate their awesome power, their control of everything and their victory over the other gods. Only one thing: Not a dog whetted its tongue at a Jew. No barking. No growling. The dogs were eerily silent throughout the night, as Moses had prophesied. The Egyptians were left with no further explanation. The Ten Plagues had been the hand of God, who had “exacted judgments” against their gods and had silenced their dogs. Now His people, the Children of Israel, had to be freed.”
Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 28, 2025 | Torat Devorah
A number of commentators have raised the question of why the parentage and genealogy of Moshe is not mentioned until the early part of this week’s parsha. In parshat Shemos, we are only told that his father was a man from the House of Levi, and that his mother was a daughter of Levi. In this week’s parsha, Vaeirah, we are not only told their names, but are also presented with the lineage of both Moshe and Aharon. This presentation actually begins with a listing of the children of Jacob’s first three sons, Reuven, Shimon and Levi, and proceeds to trace the lineage of Moshe and Aaron from Levi. What is the place of this presentation in our parsha, and why wasn’t it given earlier? Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary, explains that until this point, Moshe had been unsuccessful in his mission, both to his nation and to Pharaoh, and had complained to God that the nation’s suffering had increased since he spoke to Pharaoh. God reassured him that he would be successful and charged him to proceed with his task together with his brother Aaron. Moshe thus was about to embark on the successful phase of his mission. In order to assure that he would not be perceived, in his role as liberator, as some kind of supernatural being, or deity, the Torah presents us with his exact lineage, to remind us that he was a human being, born of a man and woman.
Rabbi Joshua Hoffman explores the relationship between the Israelites and Moses. He cites the Sefas Emes who explains that Moshe’s ability to speak to the nation depended on the degree of their receptivity. Rabbi Hoffman believes that the nation perceived a sharp difference between Moses and themselves, and were, therefore, not willing to listen to him, at first. The rabbis tell us the tribe of Levi was not subjected to bondage, and that is how Moses and Aaron were always able to visit Pharaoh when they needed to deliver their message to him. Perhaps, he explains, this is what the Torah means when it says that the people did not listen to Moses because of shortness of spirit and hard work. They did not wish to accept Moses and Aaron as their leaders because, they felt, they could not appreciate what they were experiencing, since they were exempt from the enslavement. Perhaps Moses and Aaron, they felt, could live as free people, but how could they? Rabbi Kook, in his commentary to the Pesach Haggadah, writes that the Egyptians, through enslaving the Jews, effected their self-perception. This is the meaning, he says, of a verse recited by the farmer, when bringing his first fruits to the Temple. Recapitulating the enslavement in Egypt, the farmer says, “Vayareiu osanu ha- Mitzrayim,” usually translated as “And the Egyptians mistreated us.” (Deuteronomy, 26: 6). Rav Kook, however, explains it to mean that the Egyptians caused us to view ourselves as bad people. Moses and Aaron needed to assure the nation that they were, indeed, worthy of being free people. It is for this reason, Rabbi Hoffman believes, that their lineage is given at this point, and as part of the general genealogy of Jacob’s family.
In The Garden of The Torah, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, explains to us the Hebrew word “Mitzrayim” – Egypt, which is related to the Hebrew word for “boundaries” or “limitations”: Mitzrayim is a paradigm for what exile is and the essence of our spiritual challenge. The world was created as a dwelling place for Hashem and our souls are a part of Hashem. Yet, we often overlook this as we are caught in the exile of our material world and daily routine which shapes our thoughts. However, Hashem doesn’t allow this exile to continue indefinitely. In Mitzrayim, Hashem revealed Himself through the plagues, thereby transforming the Jewish people’s thinking. But what about us? Hashem said, “I revealed myself to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob”; Rashi comments “to the Patriarchs”. His comment, which seems redundant, is actually reinforcing that, by revealing Himself to our forefathers, Hashem make the awareness of His existence a fundamental element in their make-up (and the make-up of their descendants for all time). In every generation, Hashem sparks this awareness by performing acts transcending the natural order; some are obvious to us (e.g., the Gulf War, Entebbe, re-birth of Israel, the fall of Communism); others are not. By these acts, Hashem reveals Himself to us, allowing us to transform the limits of our “exile” and take in the awareness of His presence. We must open our eyes.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 17, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, we read of the Israelite people in Egypt, and their quick and rapid growth. The Torah tells us that Pharaoh, as a result, said to his people: “Look, the Israelite people have become too many and too strong for us. Come; let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they increase. And if war breaks out, they will join our enemies, and fight against us and leave the country”” (Exodus 9-10). Nechama Leibowitz asks the following question: Why did Pharaoh, the ruler of the Egyptian empire require to look for pretexts ‘to deal wisely’ with the helpless Jewish minority in his realm? Why could he not destroy them with fire and sword without further ado? Who was to gainsay him? The following is the Ramban’s answer detailing Pharaoh’s policy, with regard to all the stages of his plan: “Pharaoh and his advisors did not regard it as a wise step to put the Israelites to the sword; for this would have constituted rank treason to persecute a people without cause, that had come to the land at the bidding of his royal predecessor. Moreover, the people of the land would not have allowed the king to commit this violence since he had to consult them (all the more so in view of the fact that the Children of Israel were a mighty and numerous people who would make war with them). He later suggested looking for a device by which the Israelites should not feel any hostile act was being committed against them. For this reason, he imposed on them a tax; for it was a custom of strangers in a country to pay a tax to the king. Afterwards, he secretly ordered the midwives to put to death the male children on the birthstools when even the mothers themselves did not know what was going on. Then, he commanded all of his people that they should cast every male child into the river. He did not give such an order to his chief executioners to slay them by the sword at the royal bidding, or to cast them into the river. Rather, he told the people to do so, and that if the father of the child were to protest to the king or his representative, they should ask him to bring evidence to substantiate his accusation and for vengeance to be done. When the king allowed matters to take their course, The Egyptians searched Jewish homes and even took the children from there. That is the implication of the statement and they could no longer hide him.” Leibowitz explains that the originality of Ramban’s interpretation lies in his explanation of the command to kill every male child. The text states that Pharaoh commanded “all his people” rather than “his princes and servants”. This was not therefore an official royal edict, but behind-the-scenes provocation. The government gave no order, but merely closed its eyes whilst the Egyptian masses “spontaneously” vented their indignation on the foreigners. Although Egyptian law protected strangers, in practice there would be no redress. This situation would be just as Ramban outlined.
We read that despite Pharaoh’s plans to stem Jewish growth at the outset of the parshah, “They increased in proportion to the repressive measures” (Exodus 1:12). The Alshekh comments that when the Egyptians realized that the Jewish population explosion was not a natural phenomenon, (since the Jews increased EVEN MORE after preventive measures had been imposed on them), they changed their policy and applied perech, i.e. peh rach,persuasion rather than coercion. The nation is described as benay Yisroel, to reflect that the Egyptians had become aware of a God who was on their side. They were afraid of punishment – vayakutzu mipney – they were full of dread on account of this. The Egyptians were anxious to lead the Jewish people into sin, so that they would forfeit the protection of their God. They embittered their lives (Exodus 1:14) – this means that the Egyptians used all means at their disposal to make the Jews reject their fate. They did all this in a manner that did not make the Jews feel coerced, and they hoped that the Jewish people’s God would have no sympathy for them.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 10, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parsha, Yosef brings his two children to his father Yaakov for a bracha [blessing]. Yaakov gave Yosef’s children a tremendous bracha: “By you shall Israel bless saying, ‘May G-d make you like Ephraim and like Manasseh'” [Bereshis 48:20]. In the future, whenever the Jewish people would bless their sons, they would invoke the prayer that they should be like Yosef’s two sons: Ephraim and Menashe. A very obvious question is asked. Yaakov had twelve illustrious sons. Why didn’t Yaakov say, for example, that the perennial Jewish blessing would be “May you be like Yehudah and Yosef” or “like Yissachor and Zevulun”? Why did Yaakov single out these two grandchildren to be the prototypes of blessing?
Rav Yissocher Frand explains: ‘Several meforshim [commentators] offer the following explanation, which I saw most recently from Rabbi Eliyahu Munk, zt”l. Yaakov saw a special quality in Ephraim and Menashe that he did not have the opportunity to see in his own children. Yaakov’s own children were raised in the best of environments. They lived in the Land of Israel, in the house of the patriarch Yaakov, insulated from any bad environment. Granted, it is not trivial to raise good children even in the best of circumstances. However, there is nothing novel in the fact that Yaakov’s own children turned out well. It is no surprise if a child who is raised in Bnei Brak or Meah Shearim grows up as an observant Jew. However, if people raise a child in a city such as Sioux City, Iowa — where their family is, perhaps, the only observant Jewish family in town — and the child is subject to foreign influences from all of his surroundings — and nonetheless, the child turns out a faithful Jew, that is truly a great accomplishment. The Patriarch Yaakov, perceiving that generations of Jews would spend so much of their time in Exile, formulated the greatest blessing that the Jewish people could give over to their children. “May they be like Ephraim and Menashe”. Ephraim and Menashe were raised in the Sioux City, Iowa of their time. They were the only Jews in the entire country! They had to grow up knowing that many things that they saw around them were not right, not the way things should be. Despite this, they turned out just like Yaakov’s own children. This is the special blessing that the Jewish people would need — the ability to be raised in a non-Jewish environment and yet turn out to be good and honest Jews.’
Then Jacob called for his sons and said, “Assemble yourselves and I will tell you what will befall you in “The End of Days”. Gather yourselves and listen, O sons of Jacob, and listen to Israel your father. (Breishis 49:1) When they had assembled, they thought they would hear a litany of blessings and consolations. Jacob our father answered and said to them, “Abraham my father’s father had blemished children that came out from him, Ishmael and all the children of Ketura. From my father Isaac issued, my brother Esau who was disqualified. I am afraid that that there might be amongst you a person whose heart is divided from his brothers and goes to serve other gods”. All twelve tribes responded simultaneously and said, “Listen (our father) Israel HASHEM is OUR G-D HASHEM is the ONE and ONLY.” At that moment Jacob our father answered, “Blessed is the Name of His glorious kingdom for all eternity!” (Talmud- Yerushalmi) Maimonodies writes in The Laws of “Shema” that this homiletic is the source of our inserting those whispered words after the first line of “Shema”, although it is not part of the verse- “Blessed is the Name of His glorious Kingdom for eternity!” With that as the punctuation to their discussion, it seems that Jacob’s worries were quieted by the brother’s unanimous pledge. Why was their declaration of faith at that moment taken as a “guarantee” of future loyalty? Rabbi Leibel Lam explains: ‘Shema Yisrael” can be called the “mission statement” of the Jewish Nation. Properly understood from its primal origin, The “Shema” declares not only our point of departure but our final destination, as well, as we say daily: “On that day HASHEM will be ONE and His Name will be ONE!” (Zechariah 14:9) With the end in sight and all his children unified in purpose around him, Jacob sought to and was successful at offering us a glimpse of that which paves our way to “The End of Days”.
Jan 7, 2025 | Torat Devorah
This week’s parshah sees the reunion of Joseph and his brothers, and of their father, Jacob. We see at the outset Judah confronting Joseph, still unaware that this high-ranking Egyptian was his brother. The Torah tells us that Judah approached Joseph. The Alshekh asks 3 questions: What is meant by the word ‘approached’? How could Judah, who had offered them all as slaves (and the thief to be executed), NOW be ANGRY that only one of them would become a slave and the others would go free? Why had Judah not used all the tear-jerking arguments before offering all the brothers as slaves in v.16? He answers that one has to note the formula Judah used, i.e. what can we say to my lord, what can we say, how can we justify ourselves? What he meant was that he knew that the theft of the goblet had nothing to do with its value since they had brought back far more money than the value of this trinket. He therefore said that their objective must have been the goblet with its magical powers. But they had toiled in vain since the magical powers of the goblet were exclusive to its rightful owner, to Joseph. Judah replied saying: “we can react in any of three ways: 1) friendly discussion, i.e. mah nomar, to calm you down. 2) mah nedaber, angry, outraged discussion at your repeated attempts to frame us. 3) Ha-elokim matza avon, we could resign ourselves by accepting God’s punishment for something else we have been guilty of. Mah Nitztadak, how could we claim to be tzaddikim or righteous people? Due to the latter consideration, we accept God’s verdict, but it must apply to all of us. By saying gam anachnu, also us, he includes Reuben whose guilt had been marginal, and Benjamin, who had been completely blameless in the sale of Joseph.
When Judah saw that Joseph was intent on only keeping Benjamin, he realized that their present misfortune had nothing to do with the sale of Joseph, and was NOT Divine retribution. He was merely dealing with the caprice of the local authority. The Alshekh adds that Judah therefore decided to adopt a new line of argument. Up until now, an interpreter had conveyed Judah’s words to Joseph in Egyptian. Now, vayigash, he stepped up close and told Joseph that if at first, he had accepted the judgement that they would all be slaves, it was because he could not picture himself as a free person, while Benjamin became a prisoner. He tells Joseph that bi adoni – the burden is on him rather than on his brothers because he was the one who guaranteed the safety of his little brother. He compared Joseph to Pharaoh who was legally required to master all languages. Therefore, Judah argued, I do not need to speak to you through an interpreter, since you understand quite well what I have to say. Had you not mastered every language, you would not occupy this exalted office and enjoy such authority.
Later on, in the parshah, when Jacob is about to travel to Egypt, we read that Hashem tells him: “Fear not to go down to Egypt” (Genesis 46:3). The question as to why Jacob was afraid to go to Egypt can be posed. Not only had he just found out that the son he mourned for 20 years was alive and well, but his son was a vice-regent of the realm. Nechama Leibowitz says that we should compare this directive to that written in Genesis 26:2, directed to Isaac, where it says: “Go NOT down into Egypt; dwell in the land, which I shall tell thee of. Leibowitz says that perhaps this is what Jacob was afraid of – that he would be violating an explicit Divine command issued to his father Isaac. But Jacob’s concern is focused on the symbolic dread of the founder of the nation of the spiritual consequences of leaving the homeland and going to Egypt. Hizkuni explains that Jacob was concerned for the future of the nation as a whole, the future of his children in the Egyptian exile and the bondage to come. Though he knew full well that he was going to a land of plenty and to live in comfort, who would guarantee that his descendants would want to leave Egypt and return to the land of Canaan, which alone had been promised to his forefathers? Perhaps his children would forget their destiny as they wallowed in the plenty of Egypt and would not want to leave. His fear therefore, was based on the worry of what would happen to his people in the future, and not what would happen in the present time – when all was safe.
