The Unified Commitment

Parshat Yitro

by Rabbi Avi Billet

It is quite uncommon for the entirety of the Jewish people to agree about something. I would venture to bet that all of the Jews agree to the historical and national significance of the Land of Israel, but not all Jews agree as to the validity of the State of Israel (this disagreement is a shame).

All Jews agree that Hebrew is a Jewish language. But not all agree that it's "the" Jewish language. (ditto)

Moshe tells God's words to the people, "And the entire nation responded, united, and they said, 'All that God has spoken we will do!' And Moshe returned the words of the people to God." (19:8)

The Midrash (Pesikta) notes that "they did not answer thus in adulation or with flattery, one answering for the other. Rather they answered united with one heart. Even though we have not heard all of the things (all that He has commanded us – Midrash Sechel Tov adds) – we will do them."

A very rare unified voice!

Were they really unified?

The Alshich explains that there are two schools of thought in understanding their collective declaration. Either they believed Moshe's words because God had spoken them – everything that you have said in God's name we will do. Or, all that God has surely ('vadai') said we will do – as long as we know it's from Him, to the exclusion of what you have said of your own accord. In other words – we want to hear it specifically from Him.

The Alshich notes that Moshe understood them to mean the first interpretation (unified with Moshe), while God understood they had in mind the second interpretation (unified in not wanting to hear from Moshe). God's response, therefore, was "to come down in a cloud" (19:9), because they don't believe you, Moshe, and I want them to believe you. My coming in the cloud is so they can hear Me speaking to you.

The whole premise of these "possibilities" is disturbing, particularly in light of the verse right before the Az Yashir song, "And they believed in God and in Moshe his servant." (14:31)

Perhaps it goes back to the question made famous by the Marx Brothers, "Who are you going to believe? Me, or your own eyes?" They believed in Moshe at the Sea. But they still didn't believe him at Sinai. Until, apparently, the cloud came down on the mountain.

Rabbenu Bachaye notes the Talmudic tale of God lifting the mountain over them (Shabbos 88a) explaining that the pressure was to accept the Oral Law. But the Written Law was accepted willingly, with a great desire, with joy and gladdened hearts.

It is known, however that despite all these acceptances and promises, it is literally impossible for any person to fulfill all of the mitzvot of the Torah. Some are only for men, some for women, some for Kohanim, some for Leviim, some only for Yisraelim. [To bring one simple example: Many people never get divorced and thus never write a get.] The Meshech Hokhmah notes that the acceptance here is to do the mitzvot which are relevant to each individual's circumstance. Otherwise, the acceptance is to learn about and understand the details of the commandments one can not fulfill.

What is included in "all that God has spoken?" Is it everything that was said until that point? Was it a commitment to what will soon be spoken, exchanged between Moshe and God, and subsequently heard by the people? Did it include all that would be recorded in the Tanakh (24 books of the Bible)?

According to the Talmud (Berakhot 5a), all of the ideas recorded in the Bible were given over at Sinai to be recorded in written form later on. This idea is elaborated upon in the Machzor Vitri (Chapter 424).

One of the important teachings of the Torah is "not to desecrate My name" (Vayikra 22:32). One of the important teachings recorded in the Prophets is, "He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk discreetly/humbly with your God" (Micha 6:8)

With the "yeshiva break" behind us, as life returns to its normal routine, it is incumbent upon us to ask ourselves if in our travels we demonstrated our commitment to "Do all that God said," "not to desecrate God's name," and "to walk humbly with our God."

When away from home, some people tend to let the "doing all God said" part of our lives slide a bit, some tend to be loud and obtrusive, to call attention to themselves, or forget that when not in one's usual environment, one does not blend in and go unnoticed. On the contrary, we are more scrutinized than in our home environments because we are clearly visitors. (Your choice to believe me or your own eyes!)

If we are truly committed to doing all God said, we must take a very careful "cheshbon hanefesh" (reflection) and resolve to be models of "Kiddush Hashem" behavior, wherever future journeys may take us.

Following the thought of the Meshech Hokhmah, these are commitments we can all relate to, as they are incumbent upon all of us. Hopefully, united, we can all agree on this one!

Taking Yosef's Bones

Parshat B'Shalach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In this most dramatic of Torah portions, the opening pesukim (verses) read like storyboards of a film's opening sequence of images around the locale where it is set. The people turn from going straight along the Mediterranean coast towards the Red Sea. Moshe is arranging the transfer of Yosef's bones. They travel from Sukkos (first stop 12:37). We then see the people - during the day - being led by the Pillar of Clouds. In the dark of night, the Pillar of Fire provides the necessary light and protection.

The scene then switches to the back and forth scenes of Paroh in his court, back to the people at the Sea, to Paroh and his army approaching, to the people at the Sea.

            

The one image that seems out of place is Moshe taking (and therefore arranging for transfer of) the bones of Yosef. While the promise being fulfilled was not insignificant, it did get its press time at the end of Parshat Vaychi. Why does it need an entire verse here? Couldn't it just be in add-on to the previous verse – "They traveled around the wilderness towards the sea, they carried weapons with them, and they also brought Yosef's bones"?

To say that there is great depth to the carrying out of this task is to state the obvious. What the message might be ranges from the obvious to the creative, with the profound lying somewhere in between.

            

On the obvious level, a very old promise is being fulfilled.

            

The profound could echo the words of Rabbi Akiva when he told his colleagues at the end of Mesechet Makkot, "Now that I have seen the prophesy of Uriah be fulfilled, I know the prophesy of Zechariah will be fulfilled as well." If we see that Yosef's promise has been fulfilled, perhaps we can be assured that Zechariah's promise will be fulfilled as well, with the coming of the Ultimate Redemption.

            

Which leaves us with the creative.

            

Many Midrashim depict Moshe's seeking Yosef's bones in an admirable fashion as he did it at the same time the Israelites were draining Egyptof its wealth (see also here regarding taking the clothes). The verse in Mishlei (10:8), "The wise-hearted (man) accepts commandments" – or fulfills opportune mitzvot when they come along – is utilized to give Moshe the greatest amount of credit for pursuing the opportunity to fulfill the promise on behalf of those he represented, as they were pursuing the wealth they were to take with them out of Egypt.

            

Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch put it this way: "A person who dedicates himself to fulfill commandments, or to delve in Torah, will be rewarded ('skhar mitzvah') according to what is either lost or missed out in profits." This teaching is based in the Zohar on Parshat Terumah who emphasizes the greatness of a mitzvah that is fulfilled through one's money – either through a donation or through using one's time otherwise to do a mitzvah, that may prevent a financial gain from taking place.

            

Moshe's choice to find Yosef's bones specifically at the time when all the Israelites were engaged in material pursuits gave a strong indicator of his priorities, how mitzvah and fulfilling a promise were more important to him than gold and silver.

            

A few reminders are in order: 

Maybe we don't need to go back for a second and third helping at a Kiddush or smorgasbord. Not only to give others a chance to eat, but also to indicate that our focus is not solely on food.

            

When we go to shul, we are engaged in mitzvah. When we talk in shul or leave shul on shabbos to drink(in the middle of davening), we are like the Israelites pursuing gold and silver while those who are properly engaged in the services are like Moshe seeking Yosef's bones.

            

When we bring irreverence to an activity others respect, we are the Israelites to their Moshe.

            

When we don't respect and promote what Shabbos should and could be – a time of being in touch with the soul, the spirit and God – and instead ignore our children, engage in superficial, vacuous and sophomoric conversations, we are the Israelites pursuing what we think is gold and silver, while those who discuss the parsha, explore their commitment to halakha, and engage their children in conversation are those who are seeking Yosef's bones.

            

Moshe seeking Yosef's bones therefore becomes a metaphor for what a deep commitment to the past is, what a promise for the future can mean, and what it means to model dedication to a meaningful task.

            

The commitment to bringing Yosef's bones to their final resting place is the greatest lesson Moshe could teach the people in the hour they felt richest and greatest (see a related idea here). Commitment to our faith and our people makes for a much richer life than all the fleeting pursuits of gold and silver we can ever undertake in our lives.

Priorities: what life is all about.            

Darkness: Precursor to Redemption

Parshat Bo

Rabbi Avi Billet

The three plagues of Parshat Bo can be summarized in one word: Darkness. The locusts "covered the entire surface of the land, making the land dark." (10:15) The plague of Darkness speaks for itself. And the Death of the Firstborn takes place around midnight (12:29), in the darkness of the shadows of the night. Death, as those of us who have experienced loss know, is the ultimate darkness.

            

Though only the last plague, by design, was meant to take life, all of these final plagues brought either a physical or psychological darkness upon Egypt's citizens.

            

And so the irony of the Israelites' experience comes through in one oft-quoted verse, "And for all of the children of Israel, there was light where they lived." (10:23) Many commentaries follow the classic approach that while the Egyptians experienced the Plague of Darkness the Israelites – even when walking among Egyptians – had light. They could thus see where valuables were hidden during the plague of Darkness in order to ask for them in the moments preceding the Exodus (12:35).

            

Others interpret the verse homiletically. The contrast of darkness to light is not hard to understand as a deeper metaphor. For example, the Or HaChaim writes, "The wicked are covered with darkness, whereas the sun shines upon the righteous, as Devorah said at the conclusion of her song (Shoftim 5:31), 'May Your enemies perish… but they that love Him (should be) as the sun when it goes forth in its might.'"

The Midrash Tehillim (22) calls Mordechai and Esther a contradiction – they were a light for Israel but darkness for the nations of the world. How could they serve as light and as darkness at the same time? The experience of darkness in Egypt is proof that there is no contradiction. There could be darkness for one side while the other side has light. The Midrash concludes with a message of Isaiah (60:1-2), "Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has shone upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and a gross darkness the kingdoms, and the Lord shall shine upon you, and His glory shall appear over you." Apparently, even when darkness pervades, there is hope for light to shine through.

Bamidbar Rabba (5) defines the phrase of the Israelites having light as the verse in Nachum 1:7: "On a day of trouble He is cognizant of those who trust in Him." The light the Israelites experience in their dwellings, in other words, is God's cognizance of them.

            

This is a perfect segue to the insight recorded by the Yalkut Shimoni, who also concludes quoting the verse from Nachum.

"God differs from a human king who might display collective punishment. When the human king experiences rebellion, he sends in his troops and destroys everyone, good and bad people together. But God saves the righteous – he treated Hanokh, Noach, and Lot differently than he treated their generations. Instead of including them in the collective destructions, they were saved. Similarly, look at the darkness heaped upon Egyptians as compared to the light the Israelites experienced. Death of the firstborns had its antithesis with the sanctification of the Israelites' firstborns. 'On a day of trouble, He is cognizant of those who trust in Him.'"

God's awareness of the people and their suffering and even their innocence or goodness, then, is the indicator of their best chances to survive and experience a personal redemption.

In his commentary, Abravanel explains what he sees as the "reason" for each plague, each coming as a form of 'measure for measure' for how the Israelites had been treated.

The 9^th plague was Darkness because the entire exile was a parable to darkness. On the other side, the redemption is compared to light (as per Isaiah 9:1 – 'The people who walked in darkness, have seen a great light; those who dwell in the land of the shadow of death, light shone upon them'). Those who had caused the extent of the exile were therefore judged with darkness while the Israelites had light.

Every person, every community, the State of Israel, and even all of world Jewry experiences periods of darkness. But even the bitterest darkness can include its antithesis of light, the promise of a better future that is merely lurking in the shadows, waiting for the darkness to fade. The light may be out in the open, or it can burn bright inside our souls. It is the light of His cognizance – His cognizance of us, as well as our cognizance of Him. If we prepare properly and have awareness of our task in this world, then we will see the fulfillment of "and for all of the Children of Israel there was light in their dwelling places."

In his commentary on Parshat Pinchas, after mentioning the light of the Israelites as an image of the time of redemption, Rabbi Jacob Skili (Torat HaMincha) concludes saying, "May the Blessed One, for the sake of His great mercy, take us out of this exile which is compared to night [and bring us] to light, as he lightens our eyes with the arrival of the redeemer – our eyes will see it and our hearts will gladden."

Amen.

Distinction Between Peoples

Parshat Va'era

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In his "Living Torah," Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan summarized the many options ofwhat the 4th plague may have been, based on Midrash and commentaries: Flies (Rabbi Nechemiah), wild animals (Rabbi Yehuda) (Sh'moth Rabbah 11:4) (based on a literal reading of Psalms 78:11); dog-flies (Septuagint); blood-suckers (Philo); mixture of insects and snakes (Sefer HaYashar); Beetles (scarab or dung beetle); wolves (Rashbam), panthers, eagles or other birds (Midrash Tehillim 78:45); giant squid (Midrash Aggadah).

In the warning before the plague of "Arov," Moshe tells the King of Egypt, "On that day, I will miraculously set apart the Goshen area, where My people remain, so that there will not be any Arov there. I will therefore make a distinction between My people and your people." (8:18-19) If Goshen will be set apart, why is there a need to make a distinction between God's people and the Egyptian people?

Because even if Israelites are not in Goshen, they will not be affected by the Arov. Targum Yonatan summarizes the idea: While the [animals or flies or beetles] are annoying Egyptians, the Israelites will not be bothered.

Rashi and Rashbam use the terms "yavdil" and "havdalah" to describe the distinction that will take place between the two nations.

The Baal HaTurim focuses on the three times the word "p'doot" (which I have translated as "distinction") appears in the Bible. The other 2 times it is spelled with the vowel-letter Vov (פדות), while this time it is written without that letter-vowel (פדת) – the vowel is the three-dotted-diagonal slant which provides the "oo" sound. The word, which can also mean "redemption" is considered to be incomplete here because the redemption from Egypt was incomplete – either because it was followed by other exiles (Rabbenu Bachaye), or because many Jews died during the plague of Darkness (R Chaim Paltiel) and never experienced redemption.

The Baal HaTurim describes the redemption from Egypt as complete when it actually happens – but not at this time (during Arov). The complete "p'doot" (with a "vov") is in Tehillim 111:9 – referring to the redemption from Egypt –  while the next "complete p'doot" will take place in the future, as described in Tehillim 130:7.

We certainly hope and pray for the complete "p'doot" to take place speedily in our days. Until that time, I find the sentence that speaks of the "p'doot" in the plague of Arov to be quite compelling, especially when viewed by itself – out of context: "I will therefore make a distinction between My people and your people."

There has always been, and I guess there will always be, a distinction between My people (the Children of Israel) and your people.

Why is anti-Semitism on the rise in Europe? Why is the Arab-Muslim propaganda machine so focused on vilifying the Jew? Why does a Jew building a house in Jerusalem cause so much friction? Why does the subject of Israel raise so much anger – why are people around the world so anti-Israel, one of the smallest countries, with one of the smallest populations in the civilized world? Why is the word "Jew" sometimes used derogatively – as a verb (to 'jew someone') or as an adjective (a 'jew lawyer')? Because the Jew, by his very existence, is distinct.

I do not believe in Jewish exceptionalism. There are many ways to interpret the idea of being the "chosen" people, and the approach I favor is "chosen to represent God on this earth" as well as "chosen to bear responsibility as a moral compass." [See the Wikipedia entry on "Jews as the chosen people" for different perspectives on this subject. And read "Why the Jews?" by Dennis Prager and Joseph Telushkin to understand the history of and reasons for the existence of anti-Semitism.]

Nonetheless, the Children of Israel as a distinct unit, with membership being multi-faceted –  a national element, a religious element, and passed through birth; a group defined by both a homeland and Holy Land; and a feeling of brotherhood which surpasses nationalities, political differences and even language – this is the blessing of being distinct.

And distinction should never lead to extinction.

God was so intent on demonstrating His power to the Egyptians, He was going to demonstrate how a swarm of dog-flies could distinguish between slave and taskmaster, or how attacking animals (whether wolves, snakes, or wild animals, etc.) could pick out Egyptians vs. slaves.

This difference was cemented at Sinai when the Jewish people received the Torah and became the keepers of God's Word on this Earth. It does not make anyone a superior human being, for it is one's deeds that are honored, and one's life-choices that determine who is a role-model for all.

But the distinction began with Shmot 4:22 when God said, "You shall tell Paroh that my oldest, my first born, is Israel." All of humanity are God's children. And just as every family can only have one first-born, Israel is considered God's first-born. And the first-born has responsibilities. The first born can mess up and can suffer the consequences or the first born can earn the honorifics that come with the natural spot as leader of the family.

God made the distinction between His people who had suffered, and Paroh's people, who had caused all the suffering.

Distinct does not mean better – but it can mean "different." And it can refer to a group others can either learn from or ignore. God made the distinction between peoples – may we merit to best represent our role, for the betterment of mankind.

Moshe's Destiny: To Never Enter the Land

Parshat Shmot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Commentaries have a field day trying to pinpoint what was Moshe's sin that sealed his fate not to bring the people to the Promised Land. Even the language of the Torah is inconclusive, because when the episode of Mei Merivah (Bamidbar Chapter 20 – the "Rock incident") took place, Moshe and Aharon are informed they will not "bring" the people to the land. It is only later that they are told they too will not "enter" the land (Bamidbar 20:24, Devarim 1:37 and 4:21 (referring to Bamibar 14:30?), Devarim 32:52).

In Moshe's case, he pleads to at least merit to be buried in the Land, a request which is summarily denied. There are reasons suggested for why he needed to be buried in the Mountains of Moav, and why his gravesite needed to overlook the area where the sin of Ba'al Peor took place (Bamidbar 25).

            

Regardless, when one looks at the sources, it seems plainly clear that Moshe's non-entry into the Land has nothing to do with the Rock incident. The flaw there, as described in the Torah, is one of leadership. He may have wanted to go in to the land, even as a private citizen. Alas, one can argue that being informed at that time that he will not be bringing the people in to the land, is more likely a nice way of saying what has been known all along. "You can't lead them, because you won't be going in. At all. Ever."

            

In the beginning of Devarim, Moshe pins the reason on the event of the spies (1:37), which predates the Rock incident. This "reason" for not entering the land is advanced by Abravanel. But is the spies incident the real first indicator that Moshe will not enter the land?

            

According to the Gemara Sanhedrin (17a), Eldad and Meidad (Bamidbar 11) prophesied that Moshe would die and Yehoshua would lead the people into the land. This episode predates the spies.

            

The Chizkuni offers two interpretations on Bamidbar 10:29, when Moshe says to his father-in-law, "We are traveling to the land. Come with us!" Either Moshe was tying his fate to everyone else to keep their spirits up; they should not think they are not entering the land, just because their leader will not be entering. Or, perhaps Moshe was saying that to convince Yisro to come along; he would otherwise think that if Moshe is not entering the land, how could he enter the land? [See Rashi there, where he strangely brings up the question of Moshe's entry, claiming it predates any decree. If this announcement predates any decree, Rashi, then why bring it the not-yet-existent decree?]

            

This approach follows Rashi's thought from our parsha, which I'll get to in a moment. But the interpretation of Chizkuni indicates Moshe knew, as he was encouraging everyone to go to the land, that he would not be entering. This predates Eldad and Meidad.

            

One of Rashi's last comments on our parsha (Shmot 6:1) quotes a passage from Sanhedrin 111a in which Moshe is told by God, "Now you'll see what I am going to do to Egypt, but you will not see what I am going to do the kings of Canaan." This predates the Exodus and the plagues.

            

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch comments on the strange hotel incident of 4:23-25, where Rashi says God sought Moshe's death for not having circumcised Eliezer: "God's plans are dependent on no man… No man – not even Moses – is indispensable to God." In other words, even Moshe might have died at that point – before he even got to Egypt.

            

Commentaries focus on Moshe's objection to becoming the leader in 4:13, where Rashi explains Moshe's complaint to mean, "Send in the hands of the one who will bring them to the land, because it is not my destiny to bring them."

            

Rabbi Obadiah Bartenura notes the nuance in Rashi's words as he explains, "How could it be suggested that Moshe knew the decree that he would not enter the land? One could suggest he thought he would enter the land, but he knew he would not be the leader at that time. 'It is not my destiny to bring them in to the land' is not the same as 'It is not my destiny to enter the land.' He thought he would enter, just as leader emeritus." [This notion is contradictory because it suggests he will not lead - which is first told to him in Bamidbar 20...]

            

The other indicator is implied from a midrash in Devarim Rabba on Vayelech in which a "measure for measure" punishment is associated with a parallel word utilized by Moshe and by God. When Moshe is told he will die, God says to him, "Hen karvu yamekha lamut" (הן קרבו ימיך למות) – indeed your days are numbered until your death. Moshe had said about the Israelites, in 4:1, "V'hen lo ya'aminu li" (והן לא יאמינו לי) – indeed they will not believe me, that You sent me. The similar use of the word "Hen" (הן) – Moshe speaking ill of the Israelites, and God speaking ill of Moshe's destiny (that he'll die and no longer lead) may indicate a measure for measure punishment, that Moshe is not worthy to be the leader until the end.

            

While the question of Moshe leading versus entering the land alone seems to have not been clarified until later, the indications are that from the get-go, Moshe was not going to see the job through to the end.

            

It is a little deflating. But it is also a very powerful message, that not every person needs to finish everything in a lifetime. When our time is up, hopefully we will have lived a life in which that which we built can be continued by others. We may have picked up from those who came before us as well. But if the project is set in motion and can be finished by a capable successor, we have done pretty well.

            

We know what Moshe's job was, and now we know that he wasn't a failure who didn't bring his job to its conclusion. His job was to get as far as he got. And while he may have wanted to go further, his not making it further is no indication of failure. On the contrary, he fulfilled his destiny to the utmost.

            

May we all be so lucky!