Better Watch the Boundaries (Yisro)

Today I would like to discuss boundaries – not the controversial type like the border wall, but the more personal ones that we build in our lives. From a Jewish perspective, our traditions are full of gedarim, boundaries created to protect halacha. As a parent, I have read a lot about the importance of parentally established boundaries for our children, and this really is true for adults as well. Boundaries help us thrive.
In this week’s parsha, as Bnei Yisrael arrived at Mount Sinai, Hashem provided Moses with instructions for how the people were to prepare themselves to receive the Torah. One of the primary instructions God gave to Moshe was: “You shall set bounds for the people round about, saying, ‘Beware of going up the mountain or touching the border of it. Whoever touches the mountain shall be put to death” (Shemos 19:12). Moshe does so, and the people and the kohanim began their preparations. When Moshe then went up the mountain, God repeated this prohibition: “Go down, warn the people not to break through to the Lord to gaze, lest many of them perish” (ibid. 19:21). In response, Moshe says to the Lord, “The people cannot come up to Mount Sinai, for You warned us saying, ‘Set bounds about the mountain and sanctify it.’” So the Lord said to him, “Go down, and come back together with Aaron; but let not the priests or the people break through to come up to the Lord, lest He break out against them” (ibid. 19:23-24).
The instructions for creating a boundary are well known, but I was intrigued by the particular details of the prohibition: “Beware of going up the mountain or touching the border of it” (19:12). Perhaps it was the specification of making certain not to touch even the boundaries, but these words made me think of the story of the Eitz Hadas, the Tree of Knowledge. Hashem told Adam not to eat from the tree, Eve believed that she was not allowed to eat or touch the tree and the snake deceived her by showing her that she could touch the tree. This, of course, led to the rest of the story and humankind’s banishment from the Garden of Eden.
These two boundaries mark, in some way, the beginning point of two epochs. The transmission of the Torah to the Children of Israel was the beginning of the era of focused kedusha, when God assigned the Children of Israel with the task of bringing His kedusha to the world. Before that was the era of Adam, a time when all of humankind was living through the repercussions of a wrong choice (eating the fruit) that prevented the Messianic Age, for if Adam and Chava had not eaten from the Tree of Knowledge, the world would have immediately entered an ideal state.
In Parshas Yisro, on the verge of this new era, Hashem provides and reinforces more explicit directions about what not to do. And when Moshe argues that the people understand, Hashem insists that they be repeated.
I found this possible connection an interesting thing to contemplate in light of the time in which we live. In Western societies, boundaries of all types are being ignored, argued, or dissolved. In my opinion, there has been a general degradation in respect for authorities. Our boundaries of public and private have been diminished by the ever-going present social media. Alexas and Google-dots have been brought into people’s homes and there is much discussion about exactly how much control one can have of one’s privacy with these seemingly innocent AI’s in our homes. Maintaining boundaries is harder than ever.
Parshas Yisro is the parsha of the giving of the Torah, the ultimate rule book. Perhaps from this interaction of Hashem and Moshe, when Hashem reiterates his instructions even after Moshe argues that the people understand not to go up the mountain, we can be reminded of the importance of reviewing the boundaries in our own lives.

The Tree of Life (Beshalach)

“Eitz chaim hee lemachazikim bah…It’s the tree of life to them that hold fast to it…” This has always been one of my favorite verses in davening. Torah is the tree of life, but we must actively grab on to it. This act of holding fast is what I relate to as faith, which is a prominent theme in this week’s parsha, Beshalach; one that is connected to a eitz, a tree. 

Three days after singing an exalted song of faith following the awesome miracle of the splitting of the sea, Bnei Yisrael were struggling with having found no potable water along their way. Finally, they found water but determine that it was undrinkable. The Torah states: “And they came to Mara, and they could not drink of the waters of Mara, for they were bitter. Therefore, the name of it was called Mara” (Shemos 15:23). It occurred to me as I read this parsha that the phrase “For they were bitter” (which is offset by a zakef katan : in the trope) might not have been describing the water, but rather the sentiments of Bnei Yisrael. (I then found this idea suggested by Daas Chachamim.) They couldn’t drink the water because they were bitter.

Why bitter? Let’s look at some possibilities about their emotional state. Three days, no water…what now! I found myself focused on the fact that the complaining began three days after the final destruction of Egypt’s power. We know that day three of a wound is considered the apex of pain (per Avraham’s bris), and perhaps for Bnei Yisrael there was a level of shock in the knowledge that there truly was no going back. (Regardless of the fact that they were now in the loving care of Hashem, Egypt was what they knew.) With the underlying anxiety of being forced into a major new mindset, the Israelites felt their most critical, their most fearful, and, thus, their most bitter for having not yet found water.

Another thought is that they had heard Moshe tell Pharaoh that they would be going on a three-day journey into the wilderness to serve Hashem, so perhaps some of them started keeping count anew after they saw Egypt vanquished, for now they were truly free. However, three days later they expected to be making camp and preparing for this service Moshe had described to Pharaoh. But their calculations, as happened later at Mount Sinai, were based on their own assumptions. Perhaps it was a combination of both, and perhaps all of that was subconscious, a state of anxiety that we all experience sometimes without knowing it.

They came to Mara and they murmured against Moshe, who turned to Hashem: “And Hashem showed him a piece of wood (eitz) and he threw it into the water and the water became sweet. There He placed for him Chok and Mishpat (ordinance and law)” (ibid 15:25).

The eitz is Torah, which is comprised of chukim (ordinances for which there is no specific explanation) and mishpatim (laws that create a moral civilization). Water is life, for no creature can live without it. Life lived with bitterness – dominated by anger, regret, jealousy, etc. – misses the joy of living. A truly joyful life comes from grasping onto the Torah and holding fast to the sweetness it provides.

The verse concludes “Sham Nisahu,” which Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch translates as “There it tested them.” He explains that one way this phase can be understood is that “the people are the subject, and the Law the object of Nisahu viz. ‘There God gave it (the Nation) the fundaments of His Law, and there it (the Nation) proved or tested it,’ learnt to know the power of faithful carrying out of the Will of God, by the sweetening of the bitter waters.”

According to Rabbi Hirsch (an earlier comment on the same verse), a Torah life “requires complete confidence in the constant presence of God ever ready to help, and in the knowledge that carrying out His will, as expressed in the Torah, has the power to guide us safely and happily through the most desolate deserts of Life and to sweeten for us the bitterest draughts that Life can offer us. To induce such confidence was the preparatory work which was to be accomplished in the wilderness for the acceptance of the Divine Torah.”

Imagine the emotional work required by Bnei Yisrael. Commentators often speak of their continued slave mentality, which strikes me as terribly similar to a sense of low self-esteem. They left Egypt after a long sequence of open miracles, and yet they struggled to see themselves as part of the Divine cause. At the very beginning of the parsha we are informed that “God said ‘Perhaps the people will reconsider when they see a war and they will return to Egypt’…[but] the Children of Israel were armed when they went up from Egypt” (13:17-18).

Even as God brought them out of Egypt, He understood how shaky their faith was. Their coming out armed was purely decorative, meaning they dressed the part of a nation that had been set free, but it was clear that they lacked the courage and fortitude that matched their gear (Hirsch). And yet if they truly had faith in the Divine intervention, which they had been privileged to witness over and over, they would not have armed themselves for they would have believed that God would protect them (R’ Bechya). And yet, according to the Midrash cited by Rashi, these were the most faith-filled of the Israelites, the 1/5 that were willing and able to follow Moshe (based on an alternate understanding of chamushim as fifth rather than armed).

The miracle of the splitting of the sea was a Divine intervention to drive awe and fear into Egypt and the rest of the world. The miracle at Mara was the first step in teaching the Children of Israel that having faith in Hashem would shield them even from the smaller trials of life and that His ordinances and laws were the necessary ingredients for a sweet life. Mara was the first in a series of complaints and interventions because we all know that honest faith requires not a leap but small, earnest, incremental steps. The first step is knowing that adding Torah (eitz) to life (mayim) is key to making life spiritually sweet.

Little Lamb (Bo)

I don’t like lamb. I think I initially had this thought when I was a kid and the idea of a cute, little lamb for dinner was more upsetting than a not-so-cute cow. But it was a dislike solidified numerous times in adulthood. I don’t like the taste of it, and I really don’t like the smell of it.

This may seem an odd way to start a Dvar Torah, but there are some people out that for whom the thought of the aroma of all that lamb on the mizbayach (altar) is a bit terrifying and who are delighted that the laws of the Paschal lamb require us to eat is as a group. Whatever one’s feelings are toward the eating of lamb, the description of the Paschal lamb in this week’s parsha, Bo, is fascinating.

The Paschal lamb is the second mitzvah given to Bnei Yisrael and the first one given in-depth (the first mitzvah is to mark this month as the first of months). In quick summary (Exodus 12:3-13), God tells Moshe to tell the people that on the 10^th of the month they should take an unblemished male lamb or kid for each household and keep it in their homes until the 14^th, when the lamb would be slaughtered, its blood used to mark the lintels, and its flesh prepared to be eaten that night with matzot and bitter herbs. Then God gets really specific: “You shall not eat it partially roasted or cooked in water, only roasted over fire – its head, its legs, with its innards. You may not leave any of it until morning, any of it that is left until morning you shall burn in the fire. This is how you shall eat it – your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is a Passover offering to the Lord” (ibid 12:9-11).

Within these details provided for the fulfillment of mitzvot delineated in just three interesting verses, perhaps there is something more.

On a natural level, Hashem is describing the Exodus. Bnei Yisrael were left in Egypt even as they cried out from their suffering. Hashem could have struck with just one plague, but the situation had to be completed. The Egyptians had to be ready to send them on their way, and Bnei Yisrael had to be really ready to go. Those who weren’t ready – spiritually – were completely lost to the Jewish people. They needed to be ready to go in every way, both spiritually and physically so as not to be leftover.  

These verses can also be interpreted on a similar personal message that we can learn from even today. Hashem does not want us to be “partially cooked” – partially committed to Torah and mitzvot – or boiled in water – diluted by the world around us (er um distracted by media/technology). The roasted lamb is a reminder that we must find real passion in fulfilling our mitzvot. Thus Hashem states that the leftover – the things we are all working on ourselves to improve – must be burned in the morning, meaning that we must find a way to stop ourselves from going backward. Thus we must “gird our loins” and be ready to escape the different slaveries of our yetzer harah.

I don’t know if there are any commentaries like this or if, indeed, my remarks make sense to anyone else but myself. The Paschal lamb is an essential mitzvah, and one who does not (when possible) fulfill the mitzvah is eligible for the punishment of kareit (being cut off from the Divine source). Such a significant mitzvah is well worth some extra exploration.

Tricks of the Mind that Harden the Heart (Va’era)

The opening parshiot in the book of Shemos are particularly interesting and challenging because much of the action is repetitive. God speaks to Moshe and Aaron and tells them what to say. Moshe and Aaron confront Pharaoh and tell him what God has said. Pharaoh scoffs at them. A plague ensues. Pharaoh begs for forgiveness causing the plague to be lifted, but, shortly thereafter, Pharaoh hardens his heart, leading to an almost complete repetition of the cycle. For all of its repetition, however, this is a narrative that has always captured my imagination, particularly the concept of Pharaoh hardening his heart.

One interesting thought that crossed my mind (totally unsubstantiated by any research into commentators) is that perhaps Pharaoh thought, at first, that Moshe was competing with him. Perhaps he thought Moshe’s references to Hashem were a code name for himself. After all, Pharaoh had been raised to believe in himself as a deity so someone coming to lead a coup would have to assume a seemingly equal status. From Pharaoh’s perspective, it is not a far-fetched assumption since Hashem cannot be seen and Moshe appears to be the one with the power. And let’s face it, Pharaoh’s belief in real gods must have been somewhat stilted given his own deification.

Even as Pharaoh realized that the power Moshe could wield was beyond mortal control, that there might really be something bigger than his own self, he spun into denial. This is his continued hardening of his heart even after his magicians have acknowledged that they cannot replicate the plagues. Denial is real - I mean, most of us have been in situations where we know something to be true, but we still try to act as if it was not (and vice versa). Alas, by the time Pharaoh was ready to begin acknowledging that he was mistaken, the end was nigh and Hashem hardened his heart so that the Children of Israel could move forward and the world (and Pharaoh) could truly bear witness to God’s awesomeness.

The hardening of Pharaoh’s heart is also a situation that I believe is important to think about in relation to situations that we see today. For instance, the United Nations’ incredibly strange record toward Israel (condemnation after condemnation) or the blind eye of so many defenders of social justice to acts of anti-Semitism. The only way that these constant distortions can continue and be accepted by such a large amount of people is, truly, by an act of God.

There is one more quick but important lesson that I think can be learned from Pharaoh’s hardening of his heart. While we all perceive Pharaoh as a rasha, a wicked man, his first act of hardening his heart was not so unbelievable. While most of us don’t have our drinking water turn to blood, we do have readable signs of God’s involvement in our lives that we choose, actively or passively, to overlook because truly recognizing the awesomeness of Hashem is overwhelming. Choosing to have a heart open to messages from the Divine sounds easy but is, in fact, one of our primary responsibilities - I wish us all success in this task of being.