Anyone who pays attention to the weekly Torah portions will tell you that the overall text of the Torah is a mosaic of recorded history, genealogical records, and the giving of the law. What many may not have noticed was when the transition from history tome to guidebook begins and the lesson one can learn from it.
This week’s parsha, Parshas Bo, famously contains the first commandment given to the entire Jewish people – the commandment of Rosh Chodesh. As significant as that commandment was – in its historic place, in the important weight Rosh Chodesh plays in Jewish life – it is a surprisingly brief commandment. It is one simple pasuk: “This month shall be for you the beginning of the months, it shall be for you the first of the months of the year” (Shemos 12:1).
Looking at the commandment of Rosh Chodesh, particularly in contrast to the next verses which delineate the time frame of the taking of the lamb and the slaughtering of that lamb for the night that would become Pesach, it might seem that the purpose of telling them that this shall be the counting of a new month is only to mark time for the upcoming mitzvot and miracles. For the Israelites in Mitzrayim, however, this was perhaps a more wonderous command. The mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh given at this time was not simply about setting up a calendar. It was a foundation for envisioning a future. Not an easy thing to do coming out of slavery.
The next set of verses are very specific commandments for the moment, for the time of leaving Mitzrayim. These are the commandments to buy the lamb, to examine it, to slaughter it and mark the lintels with its blood, etc. But they are followed by a long set of verses that discuss the first commandment of a holiday, of a day on which no work shall be done, when one’s leavening has been taken from one’s house, and when there is a week-long celebration. The Israelites had not yet even made their matza. They believed freedom was coming, but they were still slaves. Why are these instructions here, especially as they are repeated later several times?
The fact is that these commandments are not wholey part of the law book of Torah but part of the history book. These verses are a recording of the words Hashem gave Moshe to inspire the Israelites to hope. Take the lamb, follow these special instructions, and know that in time to come your children will commemorate your actions with this festival following these laws. The revelation of the mitzvot of Chag Hamatzot is of similar value as the revelation of the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh. They are declarations of the future, reassurances that there is purpose to their actions.
The narrative then continues with Makkos Bachuros, death of the firstborn, and Pharaoh and the Egyptian people finally telling the Israelites to leave. After that night, after those who held forth in faith, are evicted from Mitzrayim, finally set free, their travails are far from over. But following the same fashion of providing eternal laws as an assurance of the future, Hashem adds further rules to who may or may not eat from future Pesach offerings. These rules, which apply to alienated people, slaves, sojourners, hired labour, and prostelytes (12:43-48), make little sense when told to the just freed Israelites who have barely gotten themselves out of Mitzrayim and can certainly not think of how they will bring the Pascal offering on this same night the next year. Realistically, Hashem should have given these details the next year, at the approach of their second Pesach, but here again Hashem is giving them a sense of hope for the future… someday you will have people dwelling amongst you who can’t eat the Pesach lamb, and someday you will have people who are not from your family but whom you shall embrace as if they have always been of Bnei Yisrael.
Perek 12 concludes: “It happened on that very day; Hashem took the Children of Israel out of the land of Egypt, in their legions” (12:51). This is a statement of narrative conclusion, and indeed, the next section begins with a series of commandments that close out the Parsha. The transition is over. From here on out, the “storyline” of the Torah is woven between segments of law and the details of the Mishkan.
The significance of this transition is one each person must determine for themselves. However, one might say that the fact that the beginning of the Torah’s law book begins as part of the narrative is a poignant reminder that Bnei Yisrael is not a people simply because we share a common history but because our laws, our Torah, is our constant reassurance of our future.
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