Parshas Beshalach – What About the Walls

Dedicated to those who remain as hostages, may they know freedom soon, and to the brave chayalim who are fighting for Bnei Yisrael.

 

In this week’s parsha we read, about the incredible events that took Bnai Yisrael through the Yam Suf. The description is vividly familiar – waters parted, dry land on which to walk, an army bearing down behind, and walls of water on either side. When we hear of the walls of water, many of my particular generation might conjure up, a little too easily, images from Spielberg’s Prince of Egypt, which was a beautiful imagining but not necessarily how one should learn Torah.

 

There is something very significant about the way Bnei Yisrael walked through the Yam Suf. It is not just that they crossed on dry land, but that the waters formed a wall for them on their right and on their left. This idea was so important that the Torah mentions it twice in the span of a few verses, in Shemos 14:22 and 14:29.

 

There are, of course, the practical understandings brought down in the commentaries. In between pasuk 22 and 29, the Torah describes how the Egyptians entered the Sea and how the waters came crashing back down on them. The second mention of the walls of water is to emphasize the fact that there were still Israelites in the Sea, that Bnei Yisrael hadn’t fully crossed, but that the water remained parted where they were walking.

 

The repetition of these words, however, brought forth thoughts about walls. Walls are protection; they are security. One might ask why the Torah goes through the effort of stating that the wall formed on their right and on their left. Why was it not a wall before them, like a shield preventing water spillage from before them? Why was it not a wall behind them for a sense of security?

 

The most obvious answer is that the Egyptians needed to feel that it was possible for them to follow Bnei Yisrael. This was the way to guarantee their final ultimate demise. As to why not before them… the fact that this is not stated indicates that the Sea split in one grand motion.

 

There is a beautiful metaphor within the imagery of the splitting of the Sea, within the significance of the walls forming to the right and to the left. The way forward is the miracle, the path made by the Divine.  The way backward is not an option. And on either side are walls of water. The water creates a path; it gives shape to the way that the mass of people needs to move forward. In Jewish tradition, water is symbolic to Torah.  The Jewish people are blessed to have the opportunity to surround themselves with Torah and thus be able to find the path forward in life.

 

It is easy to wonder how the people perceived those walls? They must have been stupendous, miraculous. And if you were willing and wanting to perceive the miracle… what joy and splendor awaited.  But what about those who found it so awesome as to be terrifying, perhaps to those of the erev rav whose faith was so negligeable. Then what did those walls look like?

 

We won’t ever know, and so we must delve into the metaphysical understanding of krias Yam Suf.

 

Sometimes in life we feel like we are stuck, that we are trapped in situations that are harmful to us spiritually. And sometimes we are, and we must remove ourselves, must hurry forward. Many times, however, we need to take a look at the walls and see their source, and understand that everything that occurs is part of Hashem’s plan, is the Mayim Chayim of life.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Bo. – Negated Negotiations are Part of the Plan

Last week we passed the 100 day mark of the hostages being held in Gaza and the turmoil of outright war. We have watched in shock when the most simple and obvious international requests – the return of the hostage, getting medicine to our hostages, recognition of truth – are consistently denied or reinterpreted with modifications. But why are we surprised? Is this not, yet again, something we have seen before, something we have seen over and over throughout history.

In the world of our forefathers that we consider ancient times, Egypt was the dominant world power. They set the tone of the world, and the tone they took was that of the upper hand. The Israelites were their slaves. The Israelites were the potential enemy they were controlling. Slowly but surely, however, the Egyptian people realized that the price of keeping the Israelites was not worth it. But their leaders refused to relent. Their leaders refused to offer compromise that could be acceptable. Go for three days but leave your source of sustenance or offerings. Go for three days but leave your elderly and little ones. And even when Pharaoh’s ministers were telling him that it was over, that the time to relent had come, Pharaoh remained obdurate. He compromised and reneged, agreed and broke faith.

Villainy remains villainy throughout time. We are not the first to witness it, but, please Gd, we shall be the last.

In ancient days our forefathers must have looked about and wondered what would be. After all, when Moshe first spoke to Pharaoh, their load was made even harder. Things were tough and getting tougher. It is not rare to hear people question how Gd can allow bad things to happen in the world. If one were in ancient Egypt, one might have wondered why life was so horrid, why slavery and oppression was happening to them. Throughout history we ask why bad things happen to good people, or, on a larger scale, why bad things happen to the Jewish nation if we are Hashem’s chosen people. Certainly, right now, when 90-some percent of the world seems to be wanting to harm our nation, that question sparks beneath the surface. How do lies promulgate when they are so obviously untrue?

At the beginning of Parshas Shemos, Hashem tells Moshe “Come to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the heart of his servants, in order that I may place these signs of Mine in his midst, and in order that you tell into the ears of your son and your son's son how I made a mockery of the Egyptians, and [that you tell of] My signs that I placed in them, and you will know that I am the Lord" (10:1-2).

Hashem hardened Pharaoh’s heart is just a statement of Hashem’s omnipotence. The story of the Jews in Egypt was just the start of the necessary journey of all of humanity.

What do the Jewish people represent? We represent God in this world, but not in the way that that sounds; The Jews are the people who taught humanity that we, as creations, owe true fealty to the Creator and not to created gods that appease our need for worship without challenging our morality or, as more recent history has shown, to our own whims and will.

The world has free-will, and the way the Jewish people are treated in the world represents humankind’s metaphysical battle with accepting the fact that Hashem, and not they, are in control. For there to be that free-will, Hashem has to let the world run its course, has to let humankind think that it has power until… until He makes a mockery of them, until he breaks every rule of logic in order to remind us, the people who have dedicated themselves to Him, that there is always a bigger plan that Hashem is involved in.

What does it mean to make a mockery of something? It is to reveal its falsehood. God, through Moshe, showed Mitzrayim just how little power they had and that their Pharoah was as far as could be from a powerful god.

The Jews of the 21st century have the benefit of the Torah and the centuries of history to help us stay strong. Our faith must be stronger than the will of our enemies. Our faith must be stronger than feeling and whims. Our faith must be more than faith; it must be knowledge that Hashem is always in control.

Parshas Vaera: Beyond Hail

Dedicated to the hostages as a prayer for their release after 100 days in captivity. May Hashem bring them home and may we find a path to peace until Moshiach arrives, bimheira b’yameinu.

In Jewish tradition ,the number seven has a great deal of significance. It is, as you probably know, the number that symbolizes nature and wholeness. Nature is one of the most awesome demonstrations of Hashem’s magnificence in the world. The awe that nature inspires can be inspirational, or it can be terrifying. And there are few demonstrations of nature that have the potential to be more beautiful or more frightening than the weather…which is, in truth, why it is actually rather fascinating that it is only at the 7th makka that Hashem involves weather.

Without question the first six makkos were terrifying in their own rights. However, the people of Mitzrayim were able to explain those makkos. After all, the chartumim (magicians) were able to turn water into blood – although to a lesser extent – and could even call up frogs. And lice, insect swarms, dying livestock, and excessively contagious skin diseases were, on some level relatable. As devastating as they were, each plague subsided within a week, and human nature has an uncanny ability to minimize and recategorize events. We know this all too well in our own time…how easily Covid recessed from our minds.

One could say that weather events are the same…naturally disastrous events that we expect to occur on a regular basis. (Didn’t all us Montrealers – and our guests – survive the Pesach ice storm!). The plague of barad, hail, was an altogether different situation. In a land where rain is rare, they saw fire and ice coming down from the sky. This was nature coming undone, and this was the seventh plague.

When the Torah describes the plague of hail in parshas Va’era, there is an interesting phrase used in Hashem’s instructions on what Moshe should say to Pharaoh: “Because this time, I am sending all My plagues into your heart and into your servants and into your people, in order that you know that there is none like Me in the entire earth” (9:14).

This pasuk is worth exploring for its particular wording. What can it mean that Hashem is sending ALL of His plagues when there are three yet to come and there have already been six, and why will these go into the heart?

Perhaps, and yes this is me going out on my own line of thought, one can see in this a connection to the elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Earth and Air are constants in the Egyptian world, Fire seems controlled by man, and Water – particularly in a culture dedicated to praying for the Nile water – is divine. When Fire and Water come from the Air and smash into the Land causing utter destruction, nature has been uprooted. Suddenly, it becomes unquestionable that all of the plagues are beyond nature.

Most of us think of Egypt being struck were the English term “Ten Plagues,” but in Hebrew we usually refer to the plagues as makkos, which means strikes. In this pasuk, however, when Hashem says “all of His plagues,” the word used is magefati. Magefah, a more literal plague, is connected to the word goof, or body. It is interesting that Hashem is telling Moshe to use this word right after the sixth plague, which was boils. The first five plagues were external attacks. The sixth was the most like an actual physical plague or illness. This wording was a striking reminder to Pharaoh that Hashem has control over everything, not just the physical world, not just the elements.

And what about the heart? Just before Hashem begins speaking to Moshe, the Torah tells us in 9:12: “But the Lord strengthened Pharaoh's heart, and he did not hearken to them, as the Lord spoke to Moshe.”

Following the sixth plague, the Torah tells us that Hashem strengthened Pharaoh’s resolve. It is inferred that Pharaoh was, perhaps, about to relent. But he was willing to do so because “And the magicians could not stand before Moshe because of the boils, for the boils were upon the magicians and upon all Egypt” (9:11). Pharaoh was finally beginning to understand that he was dealing with a power far beyond what he could even hope to control…but he still did not recognize the ultimate power of Hashem.

Hashem has strengthened Pharaoh’s heart and now Hashem is declaring that He will send all of the plagues into Pharaoh’s heart. There is no escape. There is no rationalizing and scientific theory. There is no accounting for that which has happened and that which is about to happen except for God, and Hashem is declaring through Moshe that now Pharaoh will be forced to come to terms with that.

The seventh plague is a transition. The whole of nature has been overturned. Even the elements have turned against Mitzrayim. It is also the first time that Pharaoh acknowledges the true awe he should have before Hashem: “I have sinned this time. The Lord is the righteous One, and I and my people are the guilty ones” (9:27).

It is human nature to try to explain the world, to try to find scientific explanations for that which we see and experience. Right now, most of us – in our minds, at least – are trying to find logical, rational, explanations for vicious monsters being hailed as hapless victims. The answer, we must remind ourselves constantly, is that Hashem runs the world. That nature and science and logic are all part of the goof’s need to put order to the world. From Shemos 9, however, we have a distinct reminder that the Grand Scheme, from devastating earthquakes to obtuse accusations, are beyond human control.

Parshas Shemos – Who me?

Dedicated as a tefilla for the speedy end to these challenging times.

The fourth perek of Sefer Shemos begins in a seemingly abrupt manner: “Moshe answered and said, "Behold they will not believe me, and they will not heed my voice, but they will say, 'The Lord has not appeared to you'" (Shemos 4:1).

This response comes in the middle of the narrative of the burning bush, and this narrative is well-known for highlighting Moshe’s reluctance to take on the role of leadership. Indeed, he questions his capabilities, and thus Hashem’s choice, both before and after this pasuk (verse):

“But Moshe said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should take the children of Israel out of Egypt?... And Moshe said to God, "Behold I come to the children of Israel, and I say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' and they say to me, 'What is His name?' what shall I say to them?" (3:11,13)

And

“"I beseech You, O Lord. I am not a man of words, neither from yesterday nor from the day before yesterday, nor from the time You have spoken to Your servant, for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue… But he said, "I beseech You, O Lord, send now [Your message] with whom You would send" (4:10, 13).

Moshe’s first response is logical. He was an Egyptian prince; it makes no sense for Bnei Yisrael to believe him. His third response is also logical because he is noting an actual limitation, a speech impediment. It is interesting, however, that this is the verse that most often leads into a discussion of Moshe’s sense of self, of his allowing insecurity to take hold. That discussion seems most appropriate for our originally quoted pasuk, 4:1.

Perhaps you are wondering why it is significant to consider which refusal of Moshe has deeper meaning. The important part, after all, is understanding that at Moshe’s first conversation with Hashem, he tried to remove himself from the position of leader, and thus we can understand that Moshe, though raised as a prince, was a humble person.

But there is significance here. Indeed, the significance stands out from the fact that these are the first words of a perek (chapter). Perek daled begins, literally, with an answer, v’ya’an. But answers are, by nature, the response to a question, or, at the very least, to a statement. So why would this be the place to start the perek.* It certainly wasn’t a worry that a perek would be too long. Perek Gimmel is only 22 verses.

This is the pasuk that shows us the real humanity of Moshe. Not his humility, his humanity. Moshe’s response to this intense set of instructions is to worry, again, that “they will not heed my voice.” He was able to ignore everything else that he was being told. He didn’t question the wisdom of bringing the elders to Pharoah. He didn’t argue about asking to take the slaves out for a three-day holiday, which might seem like a pittance. He didn’t ask why Hashem wanted him to go to Pharaoh if Pharaoh would only reject him and that Hashem knew this.

Moshe’s been given the words to prove himself. He’s been told exactly what will happen. And Moshe still gets stuck on the very first line of God’s instruction: Go to the elders. His question here is a question that every person faces at different points in their lives: What if they don’t hear me? What if they reject me? What if they don’t accept me?

Opportunities for leadership abound (obviously not generally so significant or important as Moshe’s). We see it all the time in our communities where there is such deep need for leadership and so many opportunities to organize tzedakah and chesed outlets. Perek Daled is asking us, each individual, to recognize that when we say, “Who me?” or “Oh someone else will take charge of that,” we are ignoring the fact that Hashem always has a well-laid out plan for us and our own insecurities are often the biggest impediments to letting Him show us His direct involvement.

Moshe was a stranger. Moshe had a speech impediment. But most significantly, Hashem did not let Moshe get stuck on worrying about how others would react to him. This verse, simple as it may be, holds a very important lesson for life.

*This could also turn to a discussion of the history of pasuk and perek (verse and chapter). The Torah was not given to Am Yisrael with these divisions. They were added later, by Christians in the Middle Ages. They have, however become accepted, and so one wonders why it was decided that this was a good place to start a new chapter.