Kol ha'Seridim (NOW at rabbischneeweiss.substack.com/): Haggadah

Showing posts with label Haggadah. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 4, 2023

Avadim Hayinu: Would We Still Be Slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt?

Ordinarily I don't write up such speculative answers, but this question has been bothering me for so long that I decided to share the best two answer I have in hopes that it'll generate discussion.

The Torah content from now until Pesach has been sponsored by my friend and colleague, Rabbi Dr. Elie Feder, author of Gematria Refigured: A New Look At How The Torah Conveys Ideas Through Numbers. Stay up-to-date by joining the Gematria Refigured+ WhatsApp group, and subscribe to the Gematria Refigured+ Podcast.

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Artwork: DALL-E's response to the prompt, "painting of an Egyptian standing in the middle of Manhattan"

Avadim Hayinu: Would We Still Be Slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt?

The Avadim Hayinu section of the Haggadah is the beginning of our answer to the Mah Nishtanah questions:

We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and Hashem, our God, took us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. And if the Holy One, blessed is He, had not taken our fathers out of Egypt, then we, and our children, and our children’s children would still be enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt.

Really?! Would the Egyptian slavery to Pharaoh have lasted forever and ever? Would Israel have remained subjugated to Egypt for all time? Have any ancient kingdoms survived? Wouldn’t the forces of history have brought things to an end, one way or another? Are we supposed to accept this statement at face value?

The simplest answer is: yes, as incredible as it may sound, Egyptian slavery may very well have continued to this day! Obviously, there is no way to prove this, but it is plausible. Consider the incalculable global impact of the Exodus and Giving of the Torah. What might world history have looked like without Judaism, and without the offshoot Abrahamic monotheistic religions of Christianity and Islam which shaped the trajectory of mankind? Consider the various peoples situated in stable climates whose cultures, beliefs, and societal structures remained unchanged for hundreds or thousands of years. Think how many more societies like this there might be without the Revelation at Sinai, which introduced such radically disruptive ideas as human equality based on the tzelem Elokim, absolute freedom of choice, and universal natural law, which prompted revolutionary new ways of thinking. Lastly, consider the fact that Egypt actually did last for thousands of years before the Exodus and might have lasted thousands more without the intervention of Hashem’s hand in history.

Alternatively, perhaps the answer is based on a halacha we read later on in the Haggadah:

In each and every generation one is obligated to see himself as though he had gone out of Egypt, as it is stated: “And you shall tell your son on that day, saying: ‘It is because of this that Hashem did so for me when I went out of Egypt’” (Shemos 13:8). Not only did the Holy One, Blessed is He, redeem our fathers but He redeemed us, too, with them, as it is stated: “He took us out of there to bring us to and give us the land which He had sworn to our fathers” (Devarim 6:23).

Throughout the course of the seder, we oscillate between speaking from the perspective of the present day and from the perspective of freed slaves who left Egypt. Rambam’s Ha Lachma Anya begins with: “We left Egypt in a state of alarm” but continues: “This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt.” Avadim Hayinu continues: “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and Hashem, our God, took us out from there” before switching to: “If the Holy One, blessed is He, had not taken our fathers out of Egypt” then switches back again: “then we, and our children, and our children’s children would still be enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt.”

Perhaps this last line doesn’t mean that the Israelites would have been enslaved to the Egyptians for all time. Rather, it can be read as: “then we (the generation of freemen whose parents were liberated), our children (the second generation), and even our children’s children (the third generation) would be enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt” and the Haggadah’s statement ends there. And if we asked what would happen after the third generation, what would the answer be? In all likelihood, complete assimilation. The Israelites in Egypt were on such a low level that Hashem was ready to destroy them, as the navi states: “They rebelled against Me and did not want to listen to Me; no man cast away the detestable [idols] of their eyes, and they did not forsake the idols of Egypt. So I thought to pour out My wrath upon them, to spend My anger on them, in the midst of the land of Egypt.” (Yechezkel 20:8). If things continued to deteriorate, it is possible that Israel would vanish after three generations.

These two are the only answers I could come up with, but I’m open to others. What do you think?

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

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Monday, April 3, 2023

Arbaah Banim: The Alternate Version of the Wise and Simple Sons

If you're looking for a discussion catalyst at your seder on the Arbaah Banim, consider bringing up the OTHER answers we give to the wise and simple sons. I guarantee you that discussion will ensue.

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Artwork: DALL-E's response to the prompt, "oil painting of a wise son sitting next to a simple son"

Arbaah Banim: The Alternate Version of the Wise and Simple Sons

There are two equally authoritative versions of the Arbaah Banim (Four Sons). The version which made it into our Haggadah is from the Mechilta, and an alternative version can be found in the Talmud Yerushalmi. There are a number of differences between the two, but the most striking difference is that the answers to the Wise and Simple/Foolish sons are swapped. Here are the two versions side by side:

Our Version (from the Mechilta)
The Wise Son – what does he say? “What are the testimonies, the decrees, and the judgments which Hashem, our God, has commanded you?” (Devarim 6:20). And you, too, should tell him a law like the laws of the Pesach sacrifice: we do not conclude the meal with anything other than the Pesach sacrifice.
The Simple Son – what does he say? “‘What is this?’ And you shall say to him: ‘With a strong hand Hashem took us out from Egypt, from the house of slaves’” (Shemos 13:14).
Alternative Version (from the Talmud Yerushalmi)
The Wise Son – what does he say? “What are the testimonies, the decrees, and the judgments which Hashem, our God, has commanded us?” And you, too, should tell him: “With a strong hand Hashem took us out from Egypt, from the house of slaves.”
The Foolish Son – what does he say? “‘What is this?” You, too, should teach him the laws of Pesach: that we do not conclude the meal with anything other than the Pesach sacrifice; that one should not get up from one group and enter another group.

The Mechilta is easy to understand: the Wise Son’s question exhibits a greater level of intelligence than the Simple Son’s. Instead of merely expressing his lack of knowledge with a generic, “What is this?” the Wise Son asks categorically about each type of mitzvah: eidos, which testify to God’s intervention in history; chukim, whose reasons are difficult to discern; and mishpatim, whose reasons are evident (Ritva: Haggadah shel Pesach). But what are we to make of the Yerushalmi? Does the Foolish Son’s interest in halacha indicate intellectual inferiority?

Perhaps the Yerushalmi version can be understood in light of the Rambam’s Allegory of the Palace, as stated in his conclusion to the Guide for the Perplexed (3:51). The allegory depicts a king’s subjects at varying levels of proximity to the inner sanctum of his palace. About those who are within range of the palace Rambam writes: “Of those that desire to go to the palace, some reach it, and go round about in search of the entrance gate; others have passed through the gate and walk about in the antechamber.” Rambam decodes these elements as follows:

Those who arrive at the palace but go round about it are those who devote themselves exclusively to the study of the halacha; they believe in true principles of belief based on tradition, and learn the practical worship of God, but are not trained in philosophical treatment of the principles of the Torah, and do not endeavor to establish the truth of their faith by proof.
But those who undertake to investigate the principles of religion have come into the antechamber, and there is no doubt that these can also be divided into different grades. And those who have succeeded in finding a proof for everything that can be proved, who have a true knowledge of God, so far as a true knowledge can be attained, and are near the truth, wherever an approach to the truth is possible, they have reached the goal, and are in the palace in which the king lives.

According to the Yerushalmi, the Foolish Son isn’t “foolish” because his intellect is inferior. To the contrary, he is involved in studying the intricacies of the halacha! Rather, he is foolish because he loses the forest for the trees. He is so preoccupied with the “What?” that he doesn’t even bother to ask “Why?” The Wise Son, on the other hand, has (presumably) acquired halachic knowledge of the eidos, chukim, and mishpatim, but recognizes that these are a means to an end, namely, knowledge of Hashem. Therefore, he asks questions about the purpose of the halachos he has learned: What is the significance are the miracles commemorated by the eidos? What are the hidden reasons of the chukim? What perfection can we gain from the mishpatim? A son who asks such questions is truly wise – not only in terms of his analytical ability, but in terms of his orientation to the Torah system.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

Sunday, April 2, 2023

Maaseh b’Rebbi Eliezer: Abravanel’s Framing of Insomnia on Pesach Night

Ever wonder why we talk about the Sages in Bnei Brak staying up all night? Better question: Have you ever gotten a bad sleep after the seder? If the answer to both question is "yes," check this out.

The Torah content from now until Pesach has been sponsored by my friend and colleague, Rabbi Dr. Elie Feder, author of Gematria Refigured: A New Look At How The Torah Conveys Ideas Through Numbers. Stay up-to-date by joining the Gematria Refigured+ WhatsApp group, and subscribe to the Gematria Refigured+ Podcast.

Click here for a printer-friendly 1-page version of this article, and click here for the podcast version.

Artwork: DALL-E's response to the prompt "impressionist painting of men in turbans sitting at a passover seder with the light of dawn visible in the sky"

Maaseh b’Rebbi Eliezer: Abravanel’s Framing of Insomnia on Pesach Night

How many of us have ever gotten a bad sleep on the first (and second) nights of Pesach? Indeed, the better the seder is and the longer it lasts, the worse sleep one will tend to get. This is especially true for those who fulfill the Yom Tov halacha of chatzi la’Shem chatzi lachem (i.e. waking up to daven at sunrise, learning for the rest of the morning, and only breaking for lunch after halachic midday). By now I’ve resigned myself to getting a bad sleep on both nights of Pesach and chalking it up to, “Well, this is the cost of having good sedarim!” … until this year.

Abravanel kicks off his Zevach Pesach Haggadah commentary with a list of 100 questions (or “gates,” as he calls them). In classic Abravanel fashion, some of these questions are powerful, and others are … interesting? Personally, I was surprised by the fact that the only question he raised on the section entitled Maaseh b’Rebbi Eliezer, about the Sages who stayed up all night discussing the Exodus, was the following:

Why did the Sages of Israel engage in telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt all night? Why did they see fit to do this, and what befell them (cf. Esther 9:26) such that they deprived their eyes of sleep and their eyelids of slumber? Didn't the Torah command, “You shall rejoice on your festival” (Devarim 16:14)? But [sleep deprivation] is torture to the soul! Without a doubt, they must have done this for some reason! (Shaar 13)

Until this year, I had assumed – based on a shiur I heard from my Rosh ha’Yeshiva (HL-16, I believe) – that these Sages stayed up all night in accordance with the halacha codified by the Shulchan Aruch: “A person is obligated to be involved in the laws of Pesach, in [talking about] the Exodus from Egypt, and in telling of the miracles and wonders that Ha'Kadosh Baruch Hu did for our fathers, until he is overcome by sleep” (Orach Chayim 481:2). In other words, my assumption was that these Sages began discussing these topics after they finished their seder and got so involved that they went all night until dawn. In other words, they stayed up all night inadvertently.

Abravanel disagrees. Instead, he provides a more creative answer in his Haggadah commentary:

For what reason did these perfected individuals see fit to engage in telling the story [of the Exodus] all night and to deprive themselves of sleep? [The answer is] because this is "a night that is guarded by Hashem" (Shemos 12:42), and Israel didn't sleep at all on the night they left Egypt. For the first part of the night, they were involved in doing the mitzvos of Pesach, with matzah and mrorim, as Hashem commanded, and during the last half of the night they were involved in the Exodus [itself]; therefore, they didn't allow themselves to sleep all night. And because "a person is obligated to act as though the left Egypt," therefore, these holy people did what they did: immediately at the beginning of the night they involved themselves in the mitzvos of matzah, maror, and the remembrance of the Pesach, just as their forefathers did in Egypt, and afterwards, for the rest of the night, they discussed the Exodus. Through this, they acted as though they, themselves, left [Egypt].

According to Abravanel, these Sages intentionally deprived themselves of sleep, staying up all night in order to emulate our forefathers, who didn’t sleep on the night of the actual Exodus, in order to fulfill the halacha of: “in each and every generation, a person is obligated to act (le’haros) as though they, themselves, left Egypt.”

I don’t know whether my take-away from this Abravanel is “legit” or not, but I’ll state it anyway. Next time I wake up on the morning of Pesach (or on the morning of the second day of Pesach) – filled with food, groggy from lack of sleep, and feeling the effects of the four cups – instead of bemoaning my state, I’ll think to myself: “Our forefathers who left Egypt didn’t sleep at all on the night of the 15^th of Nisan. And by staying up last night, I reenacted their ordeal.” This way of framing my poor sleep will strengthen my identification with my forefathers. Moreover, I will feel grateful that I, unlike my forefathers, was not under any threat of oppression, and that I was able to partake in a leisurely discussion of Torah in the manner of one who is truly free.

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Wednesday, April 13, 2022

Even If We Are All Wise, Understanding, Elders, Those Who Know Torah

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Cairo Geniza manuscript, date unknown

Even if We Are All Wise, Understanding, Elders, Those Who Know Torah

In the Avadim Hayinu section of the Haggadah we say: “Even if we are all chachamim (wise), all nevonim (understanding), all zekeinim (elders), all yod’im es ha’Torah (knowers of the Torah), we are commanded to recount Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt).” What do each of these terms mean? Moreover, what is the hava amina? In other words, what might we have otherwise assumed if the Haggadah did not include this statement? The Rashbatz (R’ Shlomo ben Tzemach Duran, 1361-1444) answers both questions:

Lest you [erroneously] say that this mitzvah is only for the tinokos (kids), to teach them what they don’t know, but this telling is unnecessary for one who knows this – therefore we say: “even if we are all chachamim,” who have heard this from our fathers; “even if we are all nevonim,” who can understand (i.e. derive or infer) one principle from another; “even if we are all zekeinim,” who have known this for many years; “even if we are all yod’im es ha’Torah,” who think deeply into Torah every day, and from our reading of the Torah, we recount Yetzias Mitzrayim – even with all this, we are obligated in this telling on this night.

According to the Rashbatz, people can be classified into five levels based on their knowledge of Yetzias Mitzrayim:

1) tinok: one who is utterly ignorant of and unacquainted with the basic facts of Yetzias Mitzrayim

2) chacham: one who has been taught ideas about Yetzias Mitzrayim; this person is a dependent learner

3) navon: one who is capable of going beyond the level of chochmah (i.e. received knowledge) by deriving chidushim (novel insights) on their own; this person is an independent learner, or a creative thinker

4) zakein: one who has engaged in these ideas on the level of chochmah and tevunah for many years; this person has internalized these ideas, and made them real by “living” them

5) yode’a es ha’Torah: one whose knowledge of these ideas is so thorough and so deep that even their daily Torah study connects back to the principles of Yetzias Mitzrayim

Of these five, the last is the hardest to grasp. What does this type of Torah study look like? Thankfully, I have learned Torah from two individuals who exemplify this level, and they’re both named Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.

The first Rabbi Sacks (a.k.a. Rabbi Yoni Sacks) was my Chumash rebbi in yeshiva. His approach to Torah is like nothing I’ve ever seen. He approaches Torah as a unified system, with the Rambam’s Thirteen Ikkarim as the foundation and the Mishneh Torah as an organized Torah regimen. His “Level 5 Torah” can best be seen in his essay, Torah’s Place in Redemption and the Quest for Malchus Shamayim. There he explains how Chazal’s injunction “in each and every generation a person is obligated to see himself as though he left Egypt” applies not only on the night of the seder, but to the way we conceive of ourselves year-round. Rabbi Sacks endeavors to show how the entire Torah system, in all its manifold detail, connects back to the first principles embedded in the Yetzias Mitzrayim narrative, as part of the ongoing mission to redeem ourselves from Egypt in every generation.

The second Rabbi Sacks (a.k.a. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l) served as the Chief Rabbi of the UK from 1993 to 2013. He has published dozens of books, written hundreds of articles, and given countless shiurim. His unique approach to Torah, which he refers to as Torah v’Chochmah, seeks to harmonize the teachings of the God-given Torah with human wisdom – “the universals of man’s intellectual quest” – using our God-given intellect. His “Level 5 Torah” is best exemplified in The Jonathan Sacks Haggada: Collected Essays on Pesaḥ. In each of these essays, Rabbi Sacks explains how the principles of Yetzias Mitzrayim shaped the Western World throughout history, and how its ideas continue to be relevant today. My favorite of these essays is Building a Society of Freedom.

These are but two examples of what it means to be yode’a es ha’Torah. The challenge posed by this line in Avadim Hayinu is to develop our own way of seeing the ideas of Yetzias Mitzrayim in our daily Torah study.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast" For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here.

Tuesday, April 12, 2022

Chad Gadya: A New Song with an Ancient Theme

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Artwork: Cloudgoat Ranger, by Adam Rex

Chad Gadya: A New Song with an Ancient Theme

The author of Chad Gadya is unknown, as is the date of its composition. The first verified publication of this song was in a haggadah printed in Prague in 1590. An earlier handwritten version was found in the back of a 1526 haggadah, also printed in Prague. An even earlier version was reported by Rabbi Yedidiyah Weill (1721-1805) in a now lost siddur manuscript dating back to 1406 in Worms. He “heard” that it was found “hidden in the walls of the Beis Midrash” of Rokeach (1176-1238) who established that it “be sung on Pesach night for all generations.”

Many interpretations of Chad Gadya have been offered over the centuries. One of the more popular explanations is that each figure in the song represents one of the regimes that oppressed us throughout our long history. The goat is the Jewish people. The cat is Assyria. The dog is Babylon. And so on. I would like to suggest a different interpretation – one based on an older and inarguably greater song whose theme is central to Yetzias Mitzrayim.

Shiras ha’Yam opens with the verse: “I will sing to Hashem, ki gaoh gaah; horse and rider He cast into the sea” (Shemos 15:1). It is difficult to translate “ki gaoh gaah” in a manner which captures the nuances of the Hebrew. The root G.A.H. denotes “greatness,” “grandeur,” or “exaltedness.” Therefore, it would be accurate to translate the phrase as: “for He is exceedingly great.” However, G.A.H. also carries a connotation of “proud,” “haughty,” and “boastful,” and the terms “gaavah” and “gaon” are used in Biblical Hebrew to mean “arrogance” and “pride.” As odd as it sounds, it would be equally correct to render “ki gaoh gaah” as “for He is exceedingly haughty.” What does the verse mean? How can we make sense of this strange ambiguity?

R’ Yosef Albo (Sefer ha’Ikkarim 2:14) proposes a solution, which he supports with Targum Onkelos’s non-literal translation of our verse: “We will sing and give thanks before Hashem, for He prides Himself over the prideful, and pride/greatness belongs to Him; horse and rider He cast into the sea.” R’ Yosef Albo writes:

Indeed, we find Scripture ascribing gaavah (pride) to Him, even though this is a despicable character trait in man, as it is stated: “every haughty heart is an abomination to Hashem” (Mishlei 16:5). The reason for this is that it is not proper for man to take pride in any perfection or in any superiority, for everything comes from Hashem, and it is not fitting for man to take pride in anything that does not [truly] belong to him … Therefore, gaavah is only fitting for Hashem, since everything comes from Him and not from anyone else. It is for this reason that Scripture ascribes it to Him, saying: “Hashem reigns; He dons geius (pride)” (Tehilim 93:1), and Moshe said: “I will sing to Hashem, ki gaoh gaah,” which Onkelos translates as, “for He prides Himself over the prideful, and pride/greatness belongs to Him.” Therefore, if someone prides himself on that which does not belong to him, it is proper that that superiority be removed from him in order to demonstrate that glory and superiority do not belong to that person himself, but are from Hashem, by His will.

When Bnei Yisrael saw the Egyptian charioteers at Yam Suf, they were afraid. Even after witnessing Hashem’s omnipotence as displayed in the Ten Plagues, they still regarded their former masters as powerful beings worthy of fear. It was only after Hashem drowned the Egyptian army in the sea that Bnei Yisrael acknowledged the truth of Hashem’s supremacy – that “He prides Himself over the prideful, and pride/greatness belongs to Him.”

Perhaps this is the central idea of Chad Gadya. Each stanza introduces a more powerful entity. This powerful entity appears to be a genuine threat until it is defeated by an even greater one. Ultimately, we arrive at the recognition that Hashem is more powerful than all of them. “Who is like You among the powers, Hashem?” (Shemos 15:11). Not only is this a major theme of Yetzias Mitzrayim, but it also pairs well with the symbolic interpretation mentioned above. When we, the Jewish people, are faced with fearsome oppressors, it can be easy to feel that the situation is hopeless. But we must remember our relationship with the True Power, and turn to Him, believing: “God is my strength and my salvation … Hashem will reign forever and ever” (ibid. 15:2,18).

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Friday, April 22, 2016

Lessons in Hashgachah for the Four Sons

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Originally published in April 2012.

Artwork: Monastery Mentor, by Magali Villeneuve

Lessons in Hashgachah for the Four Sons

One of the "classic" questions on the Arbaah Banim (Four Sons) section of the Hagadah is: Why do we use the same pasuk to the rasha (evil son) and the eino yodea li'shol (the son who doesn't know to ask)? The Orchos Chaim [1] offers a bold answer with some interesting implications for chinuch (child education). He writes:

Apparently, the reason [we use the same pasuk] is because it is proper to give the same answer to the rasha and the eino yodea li'shol. The redemption in Egypt was done through miracles that involved changes in nature. Hashem will only changes nature for the sake of the chasidim (eminent individuals) in the generation - either in the merit of their Torah, if they are chachamim (wise individuals), or in the merit of their proper actions and their uprightness, if they walk with Him b'tom levav (wholeheartedly) and are careful in their fulfillment of mitzvos aseh (positive commandments) and in keeping mitzvos lo taaseh (negative commandments). These are the merits of the chacham (wise son) and the tam (wholehearted son).

However, it is well known that the rasha is not worthy [of Divine intervention], nor is the individual who is lax in the actions which he does for the sake of God and who behaves like an animal - namely, the eino yodea li'shol. Without a doubt, such an individual is not on the level where Hashem will change nature on his behalf in order to save him. For this reason, even this individual (i.e. the eino yodea li'shol) falls under the answer of "for the sake of this, Hashem acted on my behalf etc." which means to say, "in my merit, but not in your merit, since you do not contemplate the ways of Hashem and His Torah and His mitzvos."

All of this comes to teach us that a person should tell his son to strengthen his involvement in Torah by day and by night, and to be scrupulous and wholehearted in his observance of mitzvos. Then, and only then, will he be among those for whom Hashem changes nature in order to save them and redeem them.

According to the Orchos Chaim, the overarching lesson of the Arbaah Banim is to teach children the criteria for meriting hashgachah pratis (individual divine providence). According to the Orchos Chaim, there are two categories of merit: (1) involvement in Torah and chochmah, and (2) scrupulous and wholehearted observance of mitzvos. The chacham and the tam possess this merit, and if they had been in Egypt at the time of the redemption, they would have been saved on account of this merit.

The rasha and the eino yodea li'shol lack these types of merit. The eino yodea li'shol is not careful in his observance of mitzvos and lives "like an animal," and the rasha casts off the yoke of mitzvos altogether (see the Orchos Chaim's commentary). Consequently, if they had been in Egypt at the time of the redemption, their merit would be insufficient to warrant hashgachah pratis, and they would not have been redeemed. This is the intent of the response of "for me - but not for him" in the Hagadah. This response is not a snide retort, but is intended as a lesson in how the hashgachah operates.

According to the Orchos Chaim, the Hagadah is urging us to instill these ideas about the hashgachah at an early age, in order to motivate our children in the pursuit of chochmah and the observance of mitzvos. This might be a lo lishmah (extrinsic motive) for being involved in Torah and mitzvos, but lo lishmah is a necessary precursor to lishmah, as Chazal say: "a person should always involve himself in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, for from lo lishmah he will come to lishmah." And what better exemplification of hashgachas Hashem in action than Yetzias Mitzrayim!

[1] Rabbeinu Aharon ben Yaakov ha'Kohen, Orchos Chaim: Seder Leil ha'Pesach

Thursday, April 21, 2016

The Eleventh Plague

Originally published in April 2012. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Necrotic Plague, by Jaime Jones

The Eleventh Plague

Towards the end of the Arami Oved Avi section of the Hagadah, we encounter a somewhat puzzling drashah:

With a strong hand – this refers to the dever (pestilence), as it is stated: “Behold! – the hand of Hashem shall strike your cattle which are in the field, the horses, the donkeys, the camels, the herds, and the flocks – a very severe pestilence” (Shemos 9:3).

According to the plain pshat, as seemingly indicated by the pasuk cited in the Hagadah, this is a reference to makkas dever: the plague of pestilence that killed the Egyptian livestock, which was the fifth of the ten makkos.

In this post we would like to take up two questions:

Why does the Hagadah single out dever from among the other makkos? There are only two other drashos which mention specific makkos: the first drashah in this set, which references makkas bechoros (the death of the firstborns), and the last drashah in this set, which references makkas dahm (blood). We but why does the Hagadah then backtrack to dever, which was a "lesser" makkah and chronologically preceded makkas bechoros?
What essential idea of Yetzias Mitzrayim does this drashah express? I am working with the premise that since we are telling our sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim (the account of the Exodus from Egypt) through these drashos, then each of these drashahos must convey an essential idea about Yetzias Mitzrayim. What fundamental idea is expressed here?

The most intriguing explanation I've encountered from the Rishonim is that of the Orchos Chayim, in his commentary on the Hagadah:

The explanation of this is as follows: this refers not only to the livestock disease, but to the human epidemic as well, for there wasn't a single one of the makkos that was not accompanied by an epidemic, as it is stated, "Behold, I will smite all of your borders" (Shemos 7:27); "Only this death" (ibid. 10:17); "all of My plagues" (ibid. 9:14). This was expressed through the term "hand," as it is written: "Behold, the hand of Hashem is upon etc."

According to the Orchos Chayim, the drashah in the Haggadah does not refer exclusively to livestock disease, which was but one of the ten makkos. Rather, it refers to the human epidemic which accompanied all of the other makkos. This makkah is only alluded to in the pesukim, never discussed openly (which is one of the reasons why you may never have heard of it). Other midrashim make reference to this dever as well. For instance, Shemos Rabbah 10:2 says:

R' Yehoshua ben Levi said: [in] every makkah that was visited upon the Egyptians, a contagion crept along with it, as it is said, "Behold, I will smite" - and the word "behold" refers to the epidemic, as it says: "Behold, the hand of Hashem is upon your cattle."

This answers our first question: Why does the Hagadah single out dever from among the other makkos? The answer is: It doesn't! The Hagadah is not referring to the makkah of dever per se, but to the "background makkah" of human disease.

This raises a new question: What was the purpose of this human epidemic? Weren't the ten makkos enough? Furthermore, the Torah itself seems to support the idea that the other makkos were primary, since the narrative explicitly recounts the ten makkos but only alludes to the "background dever." Also, we still haven't answered our second original question: What essential idea of Yetzias Mitzrayim does this drashah teach us?

I believe the clue which will allow us to answer these questions is contained in the first chapters of Sefer Iyov. The story of Iyov begins with a description of Iyov as "wholesome and upright, he feared God and shunned evil." He had a large and happy family and was "the wealthiest man of all the people in the east." One day, the satan posed a challenge to Hashem, saying:

"Is it for nothing that Iyov fears God? Have You not set a protective wall about him, about his household, and about everything he owns from all around? You have blessed his handiwork, and his livestock have spread throughout the land. But send forth Your hand and touch everything that is his, [and see] if he does not blaspheme You to Your face" (Iyov 1:9-11).

Hashem accepts the challenge (so to speak) and grants the satan dominion over all of Iyov's property on the one condition: "do not send forth your hand against his [person]!" (ibid. 12). The satan goes forth and, in a single day, destroys Iyov's wealth, servants, and children. In spite of all the loss, Iyov remains steadfast in his acceptance of Hashem's decree. Hashem points this out to the satan, but the satan replies:

"Skin for the sake of skin! Whatever a man has he would give up for his life! But send forth Your hand and touch his bone and his flesh, and surely he will blaspheme You to Your face!" (ibid. 2:4-5).

Hashem grants the satan permission to afflict Iyov's body:

The Satan departed from the presence of Hashem and afflicted Iyov with severe boils, from the soles of his feat to the top of his head. He took a potsherd to scratch himself with, and he sat amid the ashes (ibid. 2:7-8).

At first, Iyov didn't give in - at least, not in his outward speech or actions. "Despite everything, Iyov did not sin with his lips" (ibid. 10) - though, as Chazal teach, he did sin in his heart, even though he didn't express it. Finally, when his friends come to visit him, after sitting in silence for seven days and seven nights, "Iyov opened his mouth and cursed his day" (ibid. 14).

Without going into the whole psychology of Iyov, one thing is clear: his bodily afflictions pushed him over the edge, to the point where questioned his metaphysical premises. He was able to maintain a certain view of hashgachas Hashem (Divine providence) in spite of the destruction of his property and the loss of his children, but once Hashem afflicted his body, Iyov could not longer uphold his original beliefs. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he was able to admit to himself what he truly thought and felt about Hashem and His Divine justice. Only then was Iyov able to commence his inquiry into Hashem's justice.

The ten makkos were not merely a means of liberating Bnei Yisrael from Egypt. Rather, the makkos were designed to teach the Egyptians a set of core ideas about Hashem. The pesukim emphasize the educational character of the makkos again and again:

"and Egypt will know that I am Hashem" (Shemos 7:5)
"with this shall you know that I am Hashem" (ibid. 7:17)
"in order that you shall know that there is none like Hashem, our God" (ibid. 8:6)
"in order that you shall know that I am Hashem, in the midst of the land" (ibid. 8:18)
"so that you shall know that there is none like Me in all the land" (ibid. 9:14)
"in order to show you My power, and in order that My Name will be proclaimed throughout the entire land" (ibid. 9:16)
"in order that you shall know that the earth is Hashem's" (ibid. 9:29)
"so that you shall tell in the ears of your son and your grandson . . . and they shall know that I am Hashem" (ibid. 10:2)

The purpose of the makkos was to uproot the entire belief system of Egypt and to establish the revolutionary new worldview of Malchus Hashem. But no matter how miraculous, terrifying, and life-disrupting the makkos were, it would still be possible for an Egyptian to uphold his inner resistances and to deflect the lessons that the makkos were designed to instill. Just as Iyov remained staunch in his beliefs in spite of the Divinely ordained destruction of everything he held dear, so too, it would have been possible for the Egyptians to cling to their beliefs, even as Egypt was destroyed all around them.

Herein lies the purpose of the "other dever," perhaps. Each one of the ten makkos was accompanied by a human epidemic. This dever dealt a blow to the physical well-being of the Egyptians, thereby rendering them receptive to the curriculum of the makkos. Iyov was able to persist in his stubbornness, but as soon as his very flesh was attacked, his mind became free to question and contemplate the implications of his suffering. Ultimately, this investigation brought him to a true understanding of Hashem's relationship with mankind. Likewise, the presence of this human epidemic with each and every makkah effectively broke down the Egyptians' resistances to pondering the makkos and enabled the ideas to penetrate their minds.

Perhaps this idea is essential to sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim because it shows a fundamental idea about Hashem's punishments, namely, that they are not vindictive, but are for the good of humanity. "Do I desire at all the death of the wicked - the word of Hashem/Elokim? Is it not rather his return from his ways, that he may live?" (Yechezkel 18:23). In the case of Yetzias Mitzrayim, it is true that Hashem orchestrated the makkos in order to redeem Bnei Yisrael, as He promised to Avraham Avinu. Nevertheless, the makkos were also designed to enlighten the dark society of Egypt and to help them do teshuvah from their moral waywardness and metaphysical errors. The fact that Hashem provided a human epidemic to accompany the makkos in order to facilitate this teshuvah. Thus, by focusing on the human epidemic, we are recognizing yet another dimension of chesed Hashem - His kindness towards all of His creations.

The Threat of the Sword

Originally published in April 2012. This is an addendum to my earlier post about makkas cherev. I recommend reading that one first.

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Sword of Light and Shadow, by Chris Rahn

The Threat of the Sword

The Rashbatz offers an alternative interpretation of makkas cherev which compliments the explanation from the Orchos Chaim. [1] He writes:

This teaches us that the term "outstretched" refers to the sword - yet, we do not find any mention of a sword in the makkos Mitzrayim. Apparently, this is a reference to what was said to Paroh: "lest He strike us with the plague or the sword" (5:3). Moshe Rabbeinu should have said "let He strike you (i.e. Paroh)," but he said "lest he strike us" instead, out of respect for the kingship. Thus, we find that Hashem terrorized them during the makkos Mitzrayim by [threatening] to bring the sword upon them.

Here is the pasuk cited by the Rashbatz in its context:

Afterwards Moshe and Aharon came and said to Paroh, "So said Hashem, the God of Israel, 'Send out My people that they may celebrate for Me in the Wilderness.'" Paroh replied, "Who is Hashem that I should heed His voice to send out Israel? I do not know Hashem, nor will I send out Israel!" So they said, "The God of the Hebrews happened upon us. Let us now go for a three-day journey in the Wilderness and we shall bring offerings to Hashem, our God, lest He strike us dead with the plague or the sword." The king of Egypt said to them, "Moshe and Aharon, why do you disturb the people from its work? Go to your own burdens." And Paroh said, "Behold! the people of the land are now numerous, and you would have them cease from their burdens!" (ibid. 5:1-5)

According to the Rashbatz, the sword mentioned in the Haggadah refers not to an actual makkah, but to the threat of a makkah that was intended to instill fear in the Egyptians. If so, then why do we mention this in our sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim? Are we obligated to discuss "potential makkos" as much as the actual makkos?

Perhaps the answer is that the significance of makkas cherev doesn't lie in the makkah itself, but in what it reveals about the makkos in general. We tend to focus on the impact of the makkos themselves: the water turning to blood, the swarms of frogs, and so on. We imagine what it must have been like to live in Egypt during this turbulent time. However, we tend to overlook one important feature of the makkos: the terror that gripped Egypt in anticipation of the makkos.

According to the Torah's narrative, Moshe Rabbeinu was instructed to warn Paroh prior to many of the makkos: blood (#1), frogs (#2), wild animals (#4), livestock disease (#5), hail (#7), locusts (#8), and the death of the firstborn (#10). The first one or two warnings might have been met with skepticism, but soon thereafter, it would have become undeniably clear to the Egyptians that the God of the Hebrews meant business, and that everything spoken by His prophet would come true. Once this realization set in, the Egyptians would have lived in fear in anticipation of the next attack, in the same way that any besieged nation would fear the enemy's next assault.

The pesukim and midrashim give us small glimpses into the fearful reactions of Egypt when Moshe "threatened" to bring more makkos upon Egypt. For instance, when Moshe warned Paroh about the locusts and Paroh stubbornly refused to listen, Paroh's servants reacted with trepidation, saying: "Don't you know that Egypt is lost?" (Shemos 10:7). And this was the reaction from Paroh's inner circle. Imagine the unrestrained panic on the streets of Egypt, after months and months of the makkos and their aftermath.

In every other makkah, the element of fear was overshadowed by the effects of the makkah itself. For this reason, in order to highlight the theme of terror, we need a makkah in which terror was the essence. Which makkah fits the bill? Makkas cherev - the makkah that was purely a threat. Unlike the other makkos which actually transpired, Moshe threatened Paroh and Egypt with makkas cherev for the sole reason of instilling terror. By discussing makkas cherev, we encounter the theme of terror, and by discussing this theme, we come to recognize that the element of terror was present in all of the makkos.

[1] Rabbeinu Shimon ben Tzemach Duran, Commentary on the Hagadah shel Pesach