מרים - Bitterness, Rebellion, and Miriam

Parshat Beshalach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A heteronym in the Torah appears in three contexts which have too many parallels to be ignored. The prophetess Miriam (M-R-Y-M) appears on the scene to sing a song about the splitting of the sea, and then we are immediately told that the people arrived in Marah to find that “Marim Hem” - the water (or, according to some, the people) were bitter. The Hebrew for bitter appears here as M-R-Y-M, spelled the same as “Miriam.”
                
If it was people who were bitter, one wonders if the water was really bitter, or if it was only perceived as bitter until Moshe put the stick/tree in it.                 

Elsewhere in the Torah, in the chapter on Sotah, the accused adulteress, the water-solution she is given to drink is called “Mei HaMarim (M-R-Y-M) Ha’Meor’r’im," sometimes called the “bitter waters.”  (Bamidbar 5:18)                 

Finally, shortly after the death of Miriam (Bamidbar 20:1), when the people complain about lack of water, Moshe chastises them saying, “Shimu na HaMaurim (M-R-Y-M)” – listen you rebels!                 
Miriam dances in celebration over a miracle with water, there is bitterness over water (twice), and people are rebels over lack of water. All these episodes present the M-R-Y-M heteronym in different forms.                 

Why? Is Miriam meant to be a representative of bitterness? Is there a tinge of rebelliousness in her? What is Miriam’s connection to water? Why is the Sotah water called bitter – when perhaps the second adjective for the water – Meor’r’im (revealing) is more important? Why do the people seem – at least in Moshe’s eyes – to be rebels when asking for water in Bamidbar 20, when they are clearly not rebels when they arrive in Marah and find nothing to drink? Is there a connection between bitterness, rebelliousness, water and Miriam, perhaps a latent commonality they all share?                 

Miriam is referred to as “Achot Aharon” – the sister of Aharon – when she leads the women in dancing after the splitting of the sea. (15:20) Rashi et al suggests she was “Miriam the prophetess” when she was only Aharon’s sister, because she prophesied about the birth of her brother who would become the Deliverer.  On the other hand, the Midrash Aggadah (15:20) says she was a prophetess until Moshe was born, at which point the power of prophesy was taken from her and bestowed upon Moshe. Was she jealous over his success?

                
Perhaps here is the source of our connection. What does losing prophesy do to one’s personality? It could certainly make Miriam bitter. And, for all the women who joined Miriam in her dance, not seeing her as the leader Moshe is may have also made them bitter! And legitimately so! Did Miriam’s bitterness towards Moshe ever come through?

                
The Midrash is very critical of Miriam’s speaking of Moshe’s marital relations when she spoke ill of him in Bamidbar 12.                  

The Sotah is accused of being rebellious. She may have bitterness because she feels squelched by her husband, she feels no sense of self, no sense of freedom, no sense of trust. Her husband is so jealous of her, and so doesn’t trust her, that he does not let go of the strings that allow her personality to shine, that give her the chance to become herself. Certainly she too is bitter.                 

And even if she is innocent we ought to consider how does the commitment of marriage – the public declaration that I am dedicated to one person, and not available to others – change how one relates to members of the other gender?  One’s personality must always shine through!                 

Of course it must – but it must in different ways. Those who think that marriage suppresses them (though marriage isn’t the culprit – abusive spouses are) have not figured out how to balance marriage responsibilities with appropriate social engagement with others.                  

Bitterness only brings people down and prevents them from moving on with life. Did a collective bitterness prevent people from seeing sweet water in Marah? Did the death of the 40-year female leader, leaving no female heir to her position, cause bitterness and a rebellion over the loss of the symbol Miriam represented? (See Taanit 9a for Miriam’s connection to the well).                 

There have been a number of articles written over the last few years – in blogs and more famous media outlets – by women who are “freeing themselves” from the “shackles” of Orthodoxy. A famous singer embraced Reform Judaism, a woman chose to cover her hair when she married and then uncovered it to not lose her personality, a woman felt silenced by husband and faith and found her voice through singing on a reality tv show in Israel (and subsequently divorced to complete her personality), or the regular bloggers who find every fault and flaw in the system of Judaism most people who buy into accept completely. [an exhausting search through timesofisrael blogs]                 

Is it perfect? Nothing is. But instead of being bitter about rabbis and halakha and beit din and tefillin and mikveh and “get”s and singing, perhaps we can tap into the amazing creativity and innovation that has broadened the playing field. There are Orthodox women who serve as halakhic advisors, the mikveh in many communities is comprised of an incredible sisterhood, the pre-nuptial agreement (see doc here) and the post-nuptial agreement have saved many a heartache over the deliverance of gittin, and there are a good number of talented women who perform in public as actors, dancers, musicians and singers, without compromising their faith and commitment to our Halakhic system.                 

See the power of an incredible woman in the film “Brave Miss World” in which a former Miss Israel, who became Miss World, and who has subsequently embraced the Orthodox lifestyle, takes on a most important subject and has inspired perhaps millions of people through her personal experience and her advocacy.                 

Miriam is an incredible heroine in the Torah. Her concern for her people when she was only a child, for her brother when he was a baby, for the women she led at the Sea, and in whatever else she did makes her a model for all time. But she was also human.                 

Whether it’s the subtlety of being called “Aharon’s sister,” or her lashon hara episode about Moshe, there was something lying beneath the surface. Did she ever move past it? I think she did. I think her getting tzaraat taught her an important lesson. And the fact that both her brothers prayed for her indicates a filial relationship that never waned through thick and thin.

Miriam the prophetess proves that there can be a very prominent place for women in Judaism – and the women I have encountered who put their hearts into the system and become the most educated about it (flaws it has and all!) have found the life to be overwhelmingly a good one.

9 For Egypt - And One For Israel?!?!

Parshat Bo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There are many accounts in the Midrash about what the purpose of the plagues were. Theories abound as well. And while the overwhelming approach of the Midrash is that the plagues were meant to be “measure for measure punishment against the Egyptians” for the sin of overplaying their role as taskmasters, there is one plague that doesn’t fit in with the rest in the Midrashic depictions: the plague of Darkness.

              
Of course, there are explanations for its purpose. The Midrash Tanchuma in Bo  writes that the plagues follow a pattern of how an invading king and his army would slowly destroy a city and its army after putting it under siege. Each of the plagues in this account parallels an attack point, and darkness is compared to imprisonment or solitary confinement of the enemy force.

              
And while it is certainly possible that Darkness was meant to be an attempt at defeating the Sun god Ra, the fact is that in most Midrashic accounts, the plague of Darkness is explained as “God’s opportunity to kill off the Israelites that would not be leaving Egypt,” so the Egyptians would not be able to see that there were wicked Israelites who were not worthy of Redemption (Midrash Rabba Vaera 14, Tanchuma Vaera 14).

`             
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains the plagues following the mnemonic of Rabbi Yehuda – D’tza”Ch, Ada”sh, B’aCha”V – that most of us recall from the Haggadah, suggesting that the first plague in each of grouping fit into a specific theme of intensity, the middle, plague in each group represented a different message, while the last plague in each group was the punishment.

              
Blood, Beasts, and Hail demonstrated to the Egyptians “Gerut” – that they were merelystrangers in their own land, at the mercy of God, and were hardly in any position to make the Israelites feel as strangers. Frogs, Pestilence and Locusts demonstrated “Avdut,” or “how illusory were the notions that had made them feel superior to the people whom they had reduced to slavery.” Finally, Lice, Boils and Darkness served in the function of “Inuyim,” making the Egyptians “feel what it means to have to submit to a systematic regime” of suffering.

              
Hirsch further delves in Darkness specifically, comparing it to a divine set of chains which immobilize someone. “It shackled the whole person , cutting him off from all fellowship and all possessions, so he could move neither hands or feet to obtain the necessities of life… for three days of hunger, each person was chained to the spot where he happened to be when the plague struck.” It seems from the text of the Torah, that the use of artificial light, such as a flame, was unavailable to the Egyptian during this plague.

              
While we may have explained how the plague of Darkness was meant  as a punishment, and how it may have even been a form of “measure for measure” punishment against the Egyptians or against their gods, we still have not addressed why the Midrash, in its multiple accounts of the plagues, refers to Darkness as more of a punishment to the Israelites, and a cover-up period so the Egyptians would not see the devastation wrought upon the Israelites.

              
Honestly, I am stumped.

              
Unless we say that the Midrash is portraying an incredibly valuable lesson.

              
This past Monday night, there was a national screening of a very important film “Patterns of Evidence: Exodus” in which the filmmaker, Timothy Mahoney, explored different ways of looking at ancient history in Egypt and Canaan to prove, based on the Torah and the historical findings, that the stories of the Torah are true. Not “moral stories,” as some scholars, suggest, but actual events which transpired. 

              
In the live televised talkback panel discussion afterwards, Dennis Prager, one of the panelists, noted that one reason to accept the Torah as true is because it does not paint the Israelites in a manner which is all that impressive. All other cultures of the Ancient world, in their own writings and recorded history, only paint themselves as the greatest of the great. But Israel – not so much. In fact, not at all. Slaves (what the Haggadah called "Beginning with denigrating tales"), stubborn, stiff-necked, difficult, idolatrous in the face of insurmountable evidence that God is in the world, and worst of all - they are complaining all the time.

              
So the Midrash fits right into this kind of narrative. 9 plagues for the Egyptians, and 1 plague for the undeserving-of-freedom Israelites, with the Darkness serving merely as a cover for the necessary deed, so the Egyptians wouldn’t see, with respect to the punished Israelites, how right they (the Egyptians) had been.

              
Intellectual honesty. In the world of ideas, there is nothing quite as impressive as those who can see the views of others for what they are, who support the importance of a variety of opinions, and who understand that there is a world of truth-seeking which must examine all the evidence and information before us, in an unbiased fashion, in order to arrive at the truth.

              
The Midrash might be saying – yes, it was a punishment for Egypt. Just as the Egyptians might not have understood how or why the Israelites came down in the firstplace, opening themselves up to the possibility of one day being slaves, it also wasn’t their place to understand how or why some of the Israelites would disappear a few days before the actual Exodus.

And that while most punishments did not affect the Israelites, the one that did was not to be seen by those who were the guilty party behind the oppressive slavery that had terrorized so many for so many years.

Seeing Your Problem For What It Is

Parshat Va'era                

by Rabbi Avi Billet

“For these things I weep; my eye, yea my eye, sheds tears, for the comforter to restore my soul is removed from me; my children are desolate, for the enemy has prevailed.” (Eichah 1:17(

About eight weeks ago we gathered in collective mourning for four Jews who were murdered while praying in a Synagogue, and a Druze police officer who was murdered coming to help them. This week we mourn for four Jews who were in a kosher store in Paris the day before Shabbos, either working or shopping there in preparation for the Holy Day. And we are appreciative to the police who ended the situation with complete neutralization of the terrorist.

            

Maybe France and the world received a wake-up call two days earlier when a satire magazine was attacked by monsters coming from a similar background – anti West, and anti-Semites. I wonder what the media and reaction landscape would be had the order of these attacks been reversed. But perhaps cynicism regarding the world’s attitude to Jewish victim-hood is out of place at this time. So we’ll be straightforward.

            

That almost all the perpetrators must now face their Maker is fitting. That all the loved ones of their victims are left bereaved is worse than tragic.

            

What does it take to defeat such an enemy? Sadly all-out war is not possible. Depending on whose estimates you follow, there are between 50 million to over 500 million people in the world who support the attacks on France, and would participate in such attacks if they only could. But since they’re not coming out armed and ready to fight, they can’t be met on a traditional battlefield.

            

In ancient Egypt, there was a similar problem. Who was the enemy? Who deserved punishment?

            

Was all of Egypt at fault? Or was it Pharaoh and his taskmasters who bore responsibility? Certainly the Egyptians were ordained by God to be the hosts of slavery. But even God recognized that Egypt was taking their job far too seriously, and He brought the Israelites out of Egypt 190 years early. There is a way to make Jews suffer, and then there was the ancient Egypt way, which could not be made up by any civil human being, even if s/he tried.

            

What was the point of the plagues? In truth there were several objectives. First - destroy Egyptian society. If society can’t function, the people turn to their leader and demand a change! Second - to make God’s name known to the Egyptians. This element is reviewed throughout the plagues. Third - to get across to Pharaoh that this is real, and that he ought to take Moshe and Aharon more seriously.

            

Of course, the midrashic approach has several accounts of how the plagues were meant to serve as “Middah k’neged middah” (measure for measure) in response to how the Egyptians had treated the slaves.

            

Certainly not every Egyptian was cruel and deserving of direct punishment. But Egyptians did not do enough to express to their leadership that certain treatment of slaves is beyond the pale of acceptable behavior. They denied God’s role in the destiny of the Jewish people. And Pharaoh’continued denial of reality made it much harder for him to face the hard truth that his country was falling to pieces right before his eyes.  And, as a collective result, they all suffered through the plagues and were punished with the death of the Firstborn, when their leader refused, after repeated warnings, to let the Israelites leave.

            

Not every German was a Nazi, yet how many people do not point at all Germans of the ‘40s as aiders and abetters?

            

Certainly not all French are ant-Semitic. But a culture which ignores what happens to its Jews at the hands of terrorists (think Toulouse, and other horrible attacks in the last few years) until the same terrorists attack a satirical magazine, is asking to be swept up in the same generalization as ancient Egyptians and World War II-era Germans. It’s not nice to say, but if you don’t see how the continued anti-Semitism aimed toward French Jews (mostly by recent Muslim immigrants) is a problem, and if you can’t face the hard truth that your culture is being usurped from underneath your nose, your country is doomed to fall apart.

            

It was very sympathetic of the French Prime Minister to declare “If 100,000 Jews leave, France will no longer be France. The French Republic will be judged a failure.” But the reality is that they’ve done next to nothing to create a secure environment for Jews against this latest repeated threat, and have therefore seen this year the largest wave of Jewish emigration out of France in over 65 years. There was certainly no solidarity march after the Toulouse murders of 3 children and a rabbi, nor after the anti-Semitic targeting of Ilan Halimi, HY"D. Nor did any notable security increase.

            

In ancient Egypt, there was never an all-out battle against a common enemy. It simply was not possible. But in those days, God played a very significant role in destroying the Egyptian society through plagues.

            

We pray that God will help those who have the power to protect the Jews and citizens of France, and to rid the evil from their midst

Filling Gaps on Moshe's Formative Years

Parshat Shmot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

With the new movie “Exodus: Gods and Kings” in theaters, the story of Moshe is being revisited by Hollywood once again, creating what could most positively be described as a modern Midrash. On the negative side, this new interpretation makes nary an effort at presenting this tale from any perspective based in Jewish sources, beyond a very loose adherence to the original Biblical account.

            

While the depiction of the plagues in Egypt is always fascinating on film, the motivation behind the punishment aimed at both Everyman Egyptian and the House of Pharaoh always leaves something unsaid. And while the human element of it all – did the Egyptians deserve what came upon them? – is touching, it is very hard to tap into the true feelings of the Israelites for the Egyptian citizenry and vice versa when considering that we simply don’t know, beyond that their cries reached heaven (2:23-25), how the Israelites felt in all their slavery and suffering. They certainly pine for and long for a return to Egypt many times in the books of Shmot and Bamidbar.

            

We do see that Moshe’s missive was originally embraced (4:31), but when the labor almost immediately became more intense with the cessation of the provision of straw for the bricks, Moshe quickly fell into disfavor (5:21)

            

Unlike in this latest film installment, there is very little indication in the text that Moshe was planning an armed revolt against Egypt (though one interpretation of 13:18 is that they left Egypt armed for battle). The Torah’s view is very clear that God intends to fight this battle, and that the end result for the Nation of Israel is to understand Who their God is as He demonstrates His wonders against the Egyptian oppressors, who took their role as slavemasters far beyond anything ever intended by the Covenant Between the Pieces (Bereshit 15:13-14).

            

The biggest challenge film adaptations face in terms of storyline is in filling the gap of Moshe’s formative years. With rare exception, none do it justice. And while this film has Moshe spending several years in Midian tending Yitro’s flock, marrying Zipporah, and raising Gershom, the numbers still don’t add up when we see the Torah clearly telling us Moshe was 80 when he approached Pharaoh (7:7). And where o where is the strange hotel incident? (4:24-26)
            

Everyone agrees he was a young man when he left Egypt as a fugitive for having killed an Egyptian. His age range at that time, as referenced in conflicting Midrashim, is upper teenager to 40 years old, leaving any retelling to fill in a 40 to over 60 year gap in his development. How does he change from being a Prince of Egypt, perhaps even a great warrior, to becoming a shepherd in Midian, and a worthy soul of experiencing a vision of the Divine, hearing a prophetic calling, and becoming God’s shepherd, to tend the flock that we call the Nation of Israel?

            

There is a book entitled “Divrei Hayamim Shel Moshe” (Chronicles of Moshe), which is cited by a number of great commentators. Ibn Ezra claims the book is bunk. With that air of cynicism hanging above us, Rashbam, Targum Yonatan, Daat Zekenim, Abravanel, Rabbi Chaim Paltiel and others quote it, and many of us are familiar with some of the tales that appear in it referencing Moshe’s early life in Egypt. One of its tales describes how Moshe lived, and actually ruled, in the Land of Cush for 40 years, symbolically marrying the Queen, former wife of King Nikanos, though he (Moshe) lived separately from her throughout his reign. (They claim Miriam was referring to this incident in Bamidbar 12:1, while many commentaries say there that the “Cushite woman” refers to Zipporah, while still others (most notably Yosef Ibn Caspi) suggest Moshe had taken a second wife at that time – either in addition to Zipporah, or after his first marriage ended, either through divorce (their children are referred to as “her sons” in Shmot 18:3) or through her death.) [See a thorough treatise on this here]

            

Abravanel paints Moshe as fathering Gershom at the age of 70, while the account of Moshe’s earlier years in Otzar HaMidrashim claims Yitro, who noted Moshe was a fugitive from Egypt, actually imprisoned Moshe for 7 years – during which time Zipporah fed him daily and he developed his relationship with God. After he was released he earned the right to marry Zipporah, and Gershom was born when Moshe was 77.

            

Giving Moshe so much more history may even help us understand better why his first son is named Gershom. The Torah’s explanation is that he said, “I was/have been a ‘ger’ (stranger) in a strange land (the Hebrew ‘sham’ means ‘there’).” The question is: in which strange land was Moshe a stranger? Egypt? Cush? Somewhere else in Moshe’s travels? Midian?

            

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Torah’s depiction of Moshe’s introduction to Yitro’s daughters comes after shepherds have “VayGarshum” (2:17) ויגרשם (chased them away) from the well. Perhaps Moshe’s luck in connecting with Yitro’s daughters at that time remained in his head, and inspired his naming his son גרשם. “I was a stranger. I had been a stranger. But since that moment I’ve been accepted. And I am no longer a stranger.” Perhaps Moshe's response to the act of those shepherds reminded him of why he felt so comfortable in this place. 

            

This realization on his part adds another dimension to our understanding of his background and development.

While filmmakers (and even some Midrashim) try to create a human story to fit the narrative, the story remains incomplete without the traditional interpretations and lessons that our heritage has passed along to us. With more complete study and deeper delving into all our questions, may we only merit to achieve qualitative understanding of the development of our People, our faith, and the Nation of Israel.

You Go, and You Go Too

Parshat Vaychi

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Yosef is sworn to bury Yaakov in the land of Canaan at the very beginning of the Torah portion. (47:29-30) After he blesses his sons and gives them his final messages, Yaakov instructs all of his sons to bury him in the Me’arat Hamachpela, the burial plot where his wife, parents and grandparents are buried. (49:29-32)

                

With the promise of Yosef, second in command of Egypt, that he’ll be buried in the family plot in Canaan, why does he feel the need to instruct his sons as well?

                

Ramban posits that Yaakov was concerned that Yosef would not be given permission to go due to his position.

                

As it turns out, after his father dies, Yosef seems unable to speak with Pharaoh directly, to get the permission needed to go. He appeals to “Beit Paroh” (the Household of Pharaoh), asking them to beseech the king, on account of the promise he made to his father.

                

Pharaoh’s response is telling; “Go up and bury your father, to fulfill that which he made you swear," he says, suggesting, as many note, that without the promise, it is questionable whether that permission would have been granted. 

                

More simply, Ibn Ezra explains that he was merely commanding his sons to accompany Yosef. He doesn’t ask for any response from them and he doesn’t get any response from them. He essentially commands them, and then he dies.

                

Along similar lines, Or HaChaim says, “He didn’t want them to think that he only obligated Yosef alone to accompany him to burial, and so he commanded all of them to be involved. He didn’t need to have them swear, because they will all fulfill his word.”

                

These answers are satisfactory on one level, but when we consider the concern the brothers seemed to have for Yaakov when Binyamin was in trouble at the end of Parshat Miketz and in last week’s parsha, wouldn’t it seem obvious that they’d all want to go to their father’s funeral?

                

Clearly Yaakov was not convinced that they’d all want to go. Yosef may have needed an oath to grant him leave from his position, but what was tying the brothers to Egypt that Yaakov felt would hold them back from participating in his funeral were it not for his dying wish that they accompany his body on its final journey?

                

The brothers obviously had no political roles which prevented them from leaving. Were that the case, Yaakov would have had to make them swear as well. So what did it – what caused Yaakov to need to give his sons instructions to go?

                

The only things that have demonstrably changed since last week’s parsha are that the family has moved to Egypt (and all that comes with adjusting to a new location, culture, and society), Yosef has been reintroduced to the family life, Yaakov has started to play favorites again (see how he has claimed Ephraim and Menashe as replacements for Reuven and Shimon), and he has given his sons his last will and blessings.

                

Maybe they loved Egypt so much. On the other hand, maybe the uprooting, the favoring Yosef and his children, and the (in some cases) not-exactly blessings caused the old animosities to creep back into the family. We know Yaakov spent the first 17 years of Yosef’s life favoring Yosef, and now we see he spent the last 17 years of his own life favoring Yosef once again.

                

Maybe, in the heat of the final moments, between the blessings that may have been misunderstood (or understood all too well) along with the thought that “Our brothers will go. What’s the big deal if a couple of us stay behind?” – after all, it’s a long journey, a long time to leave the wives and children alone, and without Yosef’s protection – maybe some were feeling not so close to Yaakov. Maybe they felt, “I put in my time taking care of the old man. I’m done. I’ll sit shiva, but I won’t make the trek to Canaan.”

                

Yaakov was teaching his sons that a father is a father. And that no matter what you’re thinking, no matter what baggage you carry, no matter how much you like or don’t like your father’s final message – you still have to honor your father in his final journey.

                

Life has its challenges. Hopefully when it ends for the loved ones in our lives – after 120 years! – we will be able to put any negativity behind us, and embrace our responsibilities to care for the dead, and be there for their final journey*, wherever they are to be buried. 

* (Personal health and financial circumstances notwithstanding, of course)