The Role of Episodic Memory in the Three Weeks and Tishah b'Av

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Judah and Naomi Dardik in loving memory of Rabbi Moskowitz zt''l, who taught his students to pursue truth by asking questions, who modeled love of Torah and learning, and who exemplified living a life of the mind.

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Artwork: Memory Leak, by Karl Kopinski

The Role of Episodic Memory in the Three Weeks and Tishah b'Av

Although this is technically 1-page long, I reference a bunch of other articles I’ve written. Ordinarily I wouldn’t rely on the reader’s familiarity with my previous content, nor would I expect them to read it. However, the goal of this article is to capture where my mind is at going into the Three Weeks. Since I find myself picking up where I left off, I have no choice but to reference these past ideas.

We have commenced the three weeks of mourning during which we reflect on the national flaws that led to the destruction of the two Temples and our present exile. Last summer I wrote a 1-page article about how the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, and Tishah b’Av are designed to induce “metaphysical trauma” on a national level. I wrote another 1-page article about how such trauma is necessary for national teshuvah. I wrote a third 1-page article explaining how the Tishah b’Av liturgy is designed to facilitate this type of teshuvah-from-trauma. I concluded by stressing the importance of allowing ourselves to really feel the unpleasant emotions awakened by our reading of Eichah and the kinnos in order to tap into the trauma which will “awaken our hearts and open the paths of teshuvah” (Rambam, Laws of Fasts 5:1).

This year I believe I have found a new way to induce the aforementioned trauma. This past week I wrote an overview of EFT (Episodic Future Thinking) and a follow-up article on how this technique can be integrated with halacha. Towards the end of Chapter 2 of Imaginable (pp.37-38), McGonigal introduces the following thought-experiment:

I want you to try one more time travel experiment with me. Imagination works both ways in time. So let’s take a ten-year trip in the opposite direction … I want you to picture in your mind’s eye a day more or less ten years ago today. Where would you have been on a typical day? What would you have been doing? Can you picture what you might have been wearing? Who were you with? What were you excited about ten years ago? What were you worried about? What life goal were you working toward, or what life problem were you trying to solve?

It might not be easy to recall all these details at first. Keep working at it. Like episodic future thinking, episodic memory also requires you to stretch your imagination – if only because you’re retrieving memories and reactivating thought patterns you haven’t used in a while … At the Institute for the Future, we call this technique “looking back to look forward.” It’s another excellent strategy for unsticking your mind. As the historian and activist Rebecca Solnit has written, “When you don’t know how much things have changed, you don’t see that they are changing or that they can change.”

As is true of all McGonigal’s exercises, the goal here is not to achieve factual accuracy, but to “learn to control your imagination” (p.33). By practicing episodic memory with your actual past, using your imagination to recall those lived experiences in rich detail, you will become proficient in simulating future experiences with a higher degree of realism.

Halacha obligates us to practice episodic memory on at least one occasion: Pesach night. “In each and every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as though they, themselves, left Egypt” (Hagadah). As a source for this injunction, Rambam (Laws of Chametz and Matzah 7:6) cites: “you shall remember that you were a slave” (Devarim 5:14). In other words, we are commanded to remember events that didn’t actually happen to us as if we lived through them. The intellectual objectives of the Pesach seder cannot be achieved without this use of the imagination.

Likewise, the vividly horrific descriptions of the tragic events depicted in Eichah and the kinnos are also designed to facilitate episodic memory – provided we are willing to take that extra step. For instance, instead of merely reading Kinnah #17 and reacting to the depiction of Jewish women being forced to cannibalize their own children, we should use our imagination to simulate what it might be like for us to live through a time of such starvation and desperation that we are forced to engage in the unthinkable. Will this exercise be traumatic? Yes. And that is precisely the point.

The final chapter of Eichah begins with a plea: “Remember, Hashem, what happened to us; look and see our disgrace” (Eichah 5:1). We know that Hashem sees everything and never forgets anything. Thus, when we beseech Him to remember and see, He expects us to do the same. And unless we do so on a visceral level, then we will not be moved to national teshuvah.

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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"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Etzba Elohim: The Finger of WHICH God?

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Photo: Hubble image of a Bok globule in the Carina Nebula nicknamed "The Finger of God"

Etzba Elohim: The Finger of Which God?

The first miraculous sign that Moshe performed before Paroh was the transformation of Aharon’s staff into a snake. This sign was replicated by Paroh’s sorcerers (Shemos 7:11). The first (ibid. 7:22) and second (ibid. 8:3) of the Ten Plagues were also replicated by the sorcerers, but not the third: “The sorcerers did the same with their magic, to draw forth the lice, but they could not … The sorcerers said to Paroh, ‘It is the finger of God!’ Paroh’s heart was strong, and he did not heed them, as Hashem had spoken” (ibid. 8:15).

The phrase exclaimed by the sorcerers was “etzba Elohim.” This is commonly understood to be a concession on their part, and an acknowledgment that this was from Hashem. Rashi, for instance, interprets their words to mean: “this plague was not done with magic; it is from Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu” (Rashi on Shemos 8:15).

There is a glaring problem with this explanation: the Divine name used by the sorcerers is “Elohim,” but this whole time, Moshe has been speaking in the name of Hashem (i.e. the Tetragrammaton). Indeed, when Moshe first approached Paroh in the name of Hashem, Paroh responded: “Who is Hashem that I should heed His voice to send out Israel? I do not know Hashem, nor will I send out Israel” (ibid. 5:2). But during the second plague, Paroh was already sufficiently familiar with Hashem to the point where he said: “Entreat Hashem that He remove the tzfarde’a from me and my people, and I shall send out the people that they may bring offerings to Hashem” (ibid. 8:4). If the sorcerers intended to admit to Paroh that this was Hashem – the Deity Whom Paroh, himself, had just acknowledged by name in the last plague – why would they say “etzba Elohim”? Why not “etzba Hashem”?

In light of these difficulties, the Ibn Ezra (ibid. 8:15) concludes that “etzba Elohim” was not an acknowledgment on the sorcerers’ part that the plague was sent by Hashem. Rather:

They said to Paroh: “This plague did not come via Aharon on behalf of Israel to send [Israel] forth; rather, it was a plague of Elohim, in accordance with the arrangement of stars over the mazal (Zodiac sign) of Egypt.” I have already explained that Paroh did not deny the Creator, but only [the deity] “Hashem” that Moshe mentioned to him.

Malbim (ibid.) sides with the Ibn Ezra on this matter and explains the pesukim in an even more radical way:

When you look through all these parshiyos you will never find Paroh or the Egyptians calling Hashem by the name “Elokim” but only by the Tetragrammaton. The name “Elohim” was, for them, a reference to the celestial order or to their gods – not to the God of Israel Who was called by the Tetragrammaton. [The only time] they used the name [Elokim] is when they said, “go and offer sacrifices to your Elokim” (ibid. 8:21) – meaning “Elokei Yisrael” (the God of Israel), and not simply “Elohim.” Thus, it is clear that when they said, “etzba Elohim,” they were not referring to the God of Israel, [for if they were,] they should have said “etzba Hashem hu” or “etzba Elokei Yisrael.” Since this plague came without warning, they thought that it didn’t come from the God of Israel for the sake of Israel, because if so, Moshe would have been informed of it [by God] and he would have warned [Paroh] in advance. [Rather,] they said that this plague was sent to them by the God of Egypt, whom they referred to by the unqualified name “Elohim” (lit. “God”) … It is for this reason [that the pasuk subsequently says,] “Paroh’s heart was strong and he did not heed them,” because there was no need to be afraid anymore, for his fear had passed [in light of the sorcerers’ words].

According to this interpretation, there is no indication in the pesukim that any faction of Egypt – neither the sorcerers nor Paroh – acknowledged Hashem’s miraculous intervention until the fourth plague, when Hashem informed Paroh in advance: “I will make a distinction between My people and your people” (ibid. 8:19). It was only after the fourth plague that Paroh said: “Go, bring offerings to your God … entreat for me!” (ibid. 8:24). The fourth plague was Egypt’s first acknowledgment “that I am Hashem in the midst of the land” (ibid. 8:18).

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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. 

Tzfarde’a: The Plague That Lasted Forever

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Artwork: Lurking Crocodile, by Donato Giancola

Tzfarde’a: The Plague That Lasted Forever

Ask the average Jew to identify the species involved in the second of the ten plagues, and they’ll likely answer “frogs.” However, a few commentators interpret the word “tzfarde’a” to mean “crocodiles.” Saadia Gaon bases his interpretation on the account of the plagues in Sefer Tehilim: “He sent wild beasts into them which devoured them, and tzfarde’a which destroyed them” (Tehilim 78:45). He explains: “I interpret tzfarde’a as crocodiles because frogs don’t kill, whereas this [tzfarde’a mentioned in the pasuk] kills.” Ramban (Shemos 10:14) cites this opinion in the name of Rabbeinu Chananel. Ibn Ezra (ibid. 7:27, Second Commentary) brings it up as a possibility which he ultimately rejects. Rabbeinu Bachya (ibid. 10:19) also mentions this view.

The most emphatic crocodile advocate is the Abravanel, who marshals a number of proofs – too many to paraphrase in a 1-page article. His main argument is based on Moshe’s statement: “The crocodiles will depart from you and from your houses, and from your servants and your people; only in the River will they remain” (ibid. 8:7). The Abravanel writes: “How could [Moshe] say ‘only in the River will they remain,’ which indicates that they would remain exclusively in the Nile, when croaking frogs are found throughout all the rivers of Egypt, and also in all the streams and ponds in the world?” He acknowledges that crocodiles eventually made their way outside of the borders of Egypt, but staunchly maintains that prior to the plague of tzfarde’a, crocodiles were not present in the Nile, and were only brought there by the plague. He then goes on to spell out the implications of the pasuk:

Moshe said, "only in the River will they remain" because he saw that Paroh suffered greatly from the crocodiles, and therefore, in order to intimidate him, he said, "only in the River will they remain" – in other words, so that they will occasionally come up by the will of the Creator (blessed is He) as a reminder that the great crocodiles came into the Nile River by the decree of Ha'Kadosh Baruch Hu as a punishment for the Egyptians; for this reason, He wanted the crocodiles to remain in the river of Egypt as a reminder, so that the offspring born to the later generations would know that this is the tzfarde'a that Hashem (blessed is He) brought to the Nile to destroy the Egyptians. This is why Moshe repeated, "only in the River shall they remain," for this was a new phenomenon, that the crocodiles would remain perpetually in the river of Egypt, in the manner of, "a memorial He made for His wonders" (Tehilim 111:4).

We Jews memorialize the events of Yetzias Mitzrayim through the laws of the Torah: Pesach, matzah, maror, and sippur (telling the story). According to the Abravanel, the Egyptians also received a memorial – one that was preserved in the laws of nature: the perpetual presence of crocodiles in the Nile. This stands to reason: we were one intended audience of the plagues: “in order that you recount in the ears of your children and your grandchildren how I made a mockery of Egypt, and the signs that I placed in their midst, and you shall know that I am Hashem” (Shemos 10:2). Egypt was the other audience: “in order to show you My power, and in order that My Name should be proclaimed throughout all the land” (ibid. 9:14). We received reminders for all generations in the form of mitzvos; so too, Egypt received a reminder for all generations in the form of a lasting plague.

Sforno (ibid. 8:6) also holds by the crocodile theory, but offers a different explanation as to why they remained in the Nile after the plague was removed from Paroh and his people:

in order that you know that there is none like Hashem, our God – for there is no power that can introduce a new change in nature except for a limited time, but the crocodiles which [remained] in the River [resulted from] a [permanent] change in the nature of the River.

In short, the Abravanel held that the purpose of this everlasting plague was for future generations – to preserve the fear of Hashem, and to remind them of the plagues. Sforno held that the purpose of this perpetual plague was for the present – to demonstrate that only the Creator can introduce a permanent change in a natural entity.

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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. 

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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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. 

Rambam: On Teaching Young Children about Hashem

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Photo: very early color photograph taken by Sergey Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii
of a Jewish teacher and his students in Samarkand, circa 1909-1915

Rambam: On Teaching Young Children about Hashem

In this post we will present the Rambam's answers to two questions about early childhood chinuch (education) on the mitzvah of Yichud Hashem (God's Oneness). The two questions are:

1. Which ideas about Hashem should be taught to young children, and which should not - or cannot - be taught until they reach the requisite level of intellectual maturity?
2. How should these ideas be taught?

The Rambam answers the first question in the Guide for the Perplexed 1:35:

In the same way as all people must be informed, and even children must be trained in the belief that God is One, and that none besides Him is to be worshiped, so must all be taught by simple authority that God is incorporeal; that there is no similarity in any way whatsoever between Him and His creatures: that His existence is not like the existence of His creatures, His life not like that of any living being, His wisdom not like the wisdom of the wisest of men; and that the difference between Him and His creatures is not merely quantitative, but absolute, as between two individuals of two different classes .... This suffices for the guidance of children and of ordinary persons who must believe that there is a perfect Being, who is neither a body nor a force in a body, and that He is the Deity, that no sort of deficiency and therefore no affection whatever can attain Him ...

That God is incorporeal, that He cannot be compared with His creatures, that He is not subject to external influence; these are things which must be explained to every one according to his capacity, and they must be taught by way of tradition to children and women, to the stupid and ignorant, as they are taught that God is One, that He is eternal, and that He alone is to be worshiped. Without incorporeality there is no unity, for a corporeal thing is in the first case not simple, but composed of matter and form which are two separate things by definition, and secondly, as it has extension it is also divisible ... 

Those who are not sufficiently intelligent to comprehend the true interpretation of these passages in the Bible, or to understand that the same term admits of two different interpretations, may simply be told that the Scriptural passage is clearly understood by the wise, but that they should content themselves with knowing that God is incorporeal, that He is never subject to external influence, as passivity implies a change, while God is entirely free from all change, that He cannot be compared to anything besides Himself, that no definition includes Him together with any other being, that the words of the Prophets are true, and that difficulties met with may be explained on this principle. This may suffice for that class of persons, and it is not proper to leave them in the belief that God is corporeal, or that He has any of the properties of material objects, just as there is no need to leave them in the belief that God does not exist, that there are more Gods than one, or that any other being may be worshiped.

According to the Rambam, we are obligated to teach children these fundamental ideas about Hashem as soon as they are capable of understanding them. Even before they reach that level of intellectual maturity, we must teach them these ideas by rote. Just as we teach a child is trained to believe that God is One and that only He is to be worshiped, he must also be trained to believe that God is incorporeal, has no emotions, doesn't exist in any place, cannot change, and bears absolutely no resemblance to any of His creations. And if the child asks questions about passages in the Chumash, the answers to which he is incapable of understanding, we must assure him that the verses are not to be taken literally, and that there are chachamim (wise individuals) who understand their true meaning.

I find this answer to be very interesting. I think it's fair to say that it is a common practice in Jewish households to introduce children to the basic notion of monotheism at a very early age: the basic idea that God is One, and is the only One we worship. It would be rare to find a Jewish child who is aware that we worship Hashem, but thinks that Hashem refers to a multiplicity of gods, or that we worship gods other than Hashem. Either way the child doesn't fully grasp what we mean by the term "Hashem," but he or she has been taught by rote that this is what Jews believe. The Rambam maintains that we should extend this rote form of monotheism to include the other yesodei ha'Torah (fundamentals of Torah) which comprise Judaism's unique concept of Yichud Hashem. Even though many of these ideas are far too abstract for children to understand, we nevertheless instill the statements which correspond to these ideas in Jewish children from a very young age. 

The Rambam's answer to the second question - the question of how to teach these ideas to young children - can be found in the halachos of Mitzvas Sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim (the mitzvah to tell of the Exodus from Egypt on the night of Passover). The Rambam writes in Hilchos Chametz u'Matzah 7:2

It is a mitzvah to teach the children about the Exodus from Egypt even if they do not ask, as it is stated, “And you shall tell your son” (Exodus 13:8). The father should teach in accordance with the mind of the son. How? If the son is very young or stupid, he should say to him, “My son, all of us were slaves – like this maidservant or like this manservant – in Egypt, and on this night, the Holy One, Blessed is He, redeemed us and we went out to freedom.” And if the son is mature and intelligent, he should tell him what happened to us in Egypt, and the miracles that were wrought for us through Moshe Rabbeinu – in accordance with the mind of the son. 

The key principle is: lefi daato shel ben, aviv melamdo - the father should teach in accordance with the mind of his child. It would be meaningless to tell a child, "Pantheism is heresy. In truth, Hashem is incorporeal, and therefore cannot partake of accidental qualities such as location." But if a child asks, "Where is Hashem?" the parent might say something to the effect of: "Well, do you know where time is? Time isn't in any place, but it is real. Do you know where right and wrong are? Right and wrong aren't in any place, but they are both real. Hashem is also real, even though He isn't in any place." Of course, this is just an example. It may be that even this explanation is too abstract for the child. In each situation, the teacher or parent must strive to present the idea in accordance with the mind of the child.

Notice that the injunction to teach according to the mind of the child does not only refer to the formulation of the ideas, but to the media through which the ideas are presented. An older child may be able to learn through discussion, but a younger child may need to be taught with visual aids, rhyming songs, cartoons, and the like. I know parents who taught their kids fundamental ideas in metaphysics through puppet shows.

Needless to say, this post was not intended to be a comprehensive guide to early Torah education. But discussing the principles of education like these will better prepare us for the arduous but vital task of educating Jewish children.

The Alternative Version of the Four Sons (Incomplete)

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The Alternative Version of the Four Sons

One of the most well-known sections of the Hagadah is the Arbaah Banim (Four Sons). What people may not realize is that there are two equally authoritative versions of the Arbaah Banim - one of which made it into the mainstream text of the Hagadah, and one which did not. The version that made it into our Hagadah is from the Mechilta, and alternative version can be found in the Talmud Yerushalmi.

Here is a translation of the standard Mechilta version. 

The Torah addressed itself to four sons – one wise, one evil, one simple, and one who does not know to ask.

The Wise Son – what does he say? “What are the testimonies, the decrees, and the statutes which Hashem, our God, has commanded you?” (ibid. 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 Evil Son – what does he say? “What is this service to you?” (Shemos 12:26). “To you,” but not to him. Since he excluded himself from the group and denied the fundamental principle – you, too, should blunt his teeth and say to him: “It is because of this that Hashem did so for me when I went out from Egypt” (ibid. 13:8). “For me,” but not for him; had he been there he would not have been redeemed.

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’” (ibid. 13:14).

Concerning The Son Who Does Not Know to Ask – you initiate [a conversation] for him, as it is stated: “And you shall tell your son on that day, saying: ‘It is because of this that Hashem did for me when I went out from Egypt’” (ibid. 13:8).

And here's the Yerushalmi version. Note the differences as you read:

R’ Chiyya taught: the Torah addressed itself to four sons: a wise son, an evil son, a foolish son, and a son who doesn’t know to ask.

The Wise Son – what does he say? “What are the testimonies, the decrees, and the statutes which Hashem, our God, has commanded us?” (ibid. 6:20). And you, too, should tell him: “With a strong hand Hashem took us out from Mitzrayim, from the house of slaves” (ibid. 13:14).

The Evil Son – what does he say? “What is this service to you?” (Shemos 12:26) – “What is this burden which you burden us with each and every year?” Since he removed himself from the group, then you, too, should say to him: “It is because of this that Hashem did so for me when I went out from Mitzrayim” (ibid. 13:8). “For me,” but not for that person; if that person had been in Mitzrayim, he wouldn’t have been worthy to be redeemed from there forever.

The Foolish Son – what does he say? “‘What is this?” (ibid. 13:14). 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.

Concerning The Son Who Does Not Know to Ask – you initiate [a conversation] for him.

Notice the differences? Most of them are minor, but there are a few major ones. Let's formulate our questions on the two biggest differences: 

1. Why are the answers to the Wise Son and Simple/Foolish son swapped? According to the Mechilta, we respond to the Wise Son's question by teaching him the detailed laws of Pesach and we respond to the Simple Son's question with a general account of Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt). According to the Yerushalmi's version, the lesson in halacha is reserved for the Foolish Son and the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim is told to the Wise Son. On the surface, the Mechilta makes more sense: the Wise Son asked about the mitzvos, and we respond by teaching him the halachos which comprise those mitzvos.
   
2. What insight do we gain from the Yerushalmi's addition to the Evil Son's question? According to the Mechilta the Evil Son merely asks, "What is this service to you?" but in the Yerushalmi he adds: "What is this burden which you burden us with each and every year?" The Ritva, in his Hagadah commentary, elaborates even further: "What is this burden which you burden us with each and every year, to delay our meal and ruin the joy of the festival?" 

Those are the questions I intend to answer, but it looks like the answers will have to wait until after Pesach. Let me know what you think! Chag sameach!

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

Chametz - Why So Serious?

This is essentially a walk-through of the famous Ramban at the end of Parashas Bo. Originally published in April 2014.

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Artwork: The Basket of Bread, by Salvador Dali

Chametz - Why So Serious?

“Why can’t we eat chametz on Pesach?” “Why aren't we permitted to own chametz on Pesach?” “Why do we have to search our homes for chametz on Erev Pesach?” These are among the most common questions I receive from my students at this time of the year. However, the most important questions that my students ask me year-round are: “How do we know that God exists?” and “How do we know that Judaism is true?” As it so happens, the answers to both sets of questions are more related than one might think.

The mitzvos associated with chametz are inherently tied to the mitzvah to remember Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt): 

Remember this day that you went forth from Egypt, from the house of slaves, for with a strong hand Hashem took you out from there, and you shall not eat chametz … For a seven-day period you shall eat matzos, and on the seventh day there shall be a festival to Hashem. Matzos shall be eaten throughout the seven-day period; no chametz may be seen in your possession, nor may leaven be seen in your possession in all your borders. And you shall tell your son on that day, saying, “It is because of this that Hashem acted on my behalf when I left Egypt.” And it shall be for you a sign on your arm and a reminder between your eyes – so that Hashem’s Torah may be in your mouth – for with a strong hand Hashem removed you from Egypt (Shemos 13:3-9).

According to the plain pshat, there is one central reason for the mitzvos of chametz and matzah: to remind us of the events of Yetzias Mitzrayim. This raises a number of additional questions. Why does the Torah take such extreme measures to remind us of Yetzias Mitzrayim? Why force us to go through all the trouble to distance ourselves from chametz? Why impose the harsh penalty of kareis (spiritual excision) for eating chametz on Pesach? Moreover, why are there so many mitzvos which serve this same purpose? Shabbos, tefillin, mezuzah, tzitzis, Shema, Sukkos – there are dozens of mitzvos that commemorate Yetzias Mitzrayim! Why the redundancy?

The Ramban (ibid. 13:16) answers these questions in detail. He begins by stating that ever since the time of Enosh there have been people who have denied or doubted the reality of Hashem’s hashgachah (providence), His omniscience, and even His Existence. How can these doubts be removed? Ramban explains:

When God favors a congregation or an individual and does a miracle which deviates from the pattern of the world and its nature, the refutation of all these [false] beliefs is clear to all. Such a wondrous miracle indicates (a) that the universe has a God, (b) Who brought it into existence, (c) Who has knowledge of particulars, (d) Who providentially supervises [mankind], and (e) Who is Omnipotent; (f) and when this miracle is declared beforehand by a prophet, the reality of prophecy is also proven, namely, that God speaks with man and reveals His secrets to His servants, the prophets. Through this the entire Torah becomes firmly established.

Hashem orchestrated the miraculous Exodus from Egypt in order to demonstrate these fundamental truths to mankind. Moshe Rabbeinu repeatedly emphasizes the educational character of the makkos: “In order that you should know that I am Hashem in the midst of the earth” (ibid. 8:18); “In order that you should know that the earth belongs to God,” (ibid. 9:12); “In order that you should know that there is none like Me in all the earth” (ibid. 9:14) and so on. Ramban explains that “the Egyptians either denied or were in doubt about all of these things. Thus, the great signs and wonders are trustworthy witnesses to the reality of the Creator and the entire Torah.”

How do these miracles which occurred thousands of years ago accomplish their goals today? Ramban explains:

Since God will not perform a sign and wonder in every generation for the eyes of every evildoer or heretic, He commanded us to make continual reminders of that which we witnessed with our eyes, and to transmit the matter to our children and our children’s children unto the last generation. He was exceedingly stringent regarding this matter, to the extent that He instituted the liability of kareis for eating chametz and neglecting the Pesach-sacrifice, and required us to write about the entire matter of the signs and wonders, which we witnessed, on our arms and between our eyes, and also to write them on the doorposts of our houses, and to mention it verbally in the morning and the evening and to make a sukkah every year, and many other mitzvos in remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt – all for the sake of serving as testimonial of the wonders for all generations so that we do not forget them and so that there shouldn't be any room for the mouths of heretics to deny the true ideas of God. 

Miracles verify the fundamentals of Torah. In order to establish these truths once and for all, Yetzias Miztrayim was carried out in an impressively miraculous manner in the eyes of multitudes. To ensure that these miracles wouldn't be forgotten, Hashem commemorated them in a variety of mitzvos. These mitzvos are called “eidos” (lit. “testimonies”) because they “bear witness” to the events which prove the foundational principles of Torah. Ramban concludes with a dramatic example of how a little mitzvah can be utilized to achieve such a lofty goal:

Thus, if a person buys a mezuzah for a penny, affixes it do his doorpost, and contemplates its content, he has ipso facto affirmed [belief in] the creation of the world and the omniscience and providence of the Creator, as well as prophecy, and has conviction in all of the fundamentals of the Torah, and all of this in addition to acknowledging the exceedingly great kindness of the Creator toward those who fulfill His will, that He took us out of slavery to freedom, which is a great honor to the merit of our forefathers who desired to be in awe of His name. Therefore, the Sages said: “Be as careful with a light mitzvah as with a strict mitzvah,” for all of them are exceedingly desirable and beloved, for at all times a person will acknowledge God through them.

Now we can understand the severity of the prohibitions of chametz. To put it simply: Hashem created the commemorative mitzvos of Pesach to have an impact, since their “testimonial” objectives are only achieved when we contemplate them. Although we have mitzvos to remind us of Yetzias Mitzrayim throughout the entire year, Pesach is the time of year when this theme takes center stage and becomes the focus of our learning. The prohibitions of chametz are designed to be as “in your face” (for lack of a better term) as mitzvos can get. They necessitate major changes in our day-to-day routines before, during, and after Pesach. It is impossible for any halacha-observant Jew to be oblivious to the prohibitions associated with chametz. The reason for all of this is to make sure that we think about and discuss the philosophical implications of the miraculous events which these mitzvos commemorate, thereby strengthening our conviction in Hashem and His Torah. 

Were it not for the demanding strictures of chametz, the reality of the national memory of Yetzias Mitzrayim would continually diminish over the centuries and millennia, and the fundamental proofs would be lost along with them.

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: 

1. 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?
2. 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.

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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

The Plague of the Sword

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

Artwork: Platinum Angel, by Gerard Brom

The Plague of the Sword

One of the most mystifying drashos (homiletic interpretations) in the Arami Oved Avi section of the Haggadah pertains to the phrase "and with an outstretched arm":

And with an outstretched arm – this refers to the sword, as it is stated: “And his drawn sword in his hand, outstretched over Jerusalem” (Divrei Ha'Yamim I 21:16).

The questions here are quite straightforward: 

1. What sword? There isn't any mention of a sword among the makkos, and none of the makkos seem to fit the description of "sword" - at least, not on the surface. The actual term "sword" does appear twice in the Torah's account, but only as references to threats, rather than an actual events (see Shemos 5:3 and 5:21). Either way, the Haggadah doesn't cite either of these pesukim in the drashah, so it's a moot point. This brings us to our second question:
2. What does the pasuk in Divrei ha'Yamim have to do with Yetzias Mitzrayim? The pasuk cited by the Haggadah refers not to Egypt, but to Yerushalayim, hundreds of years later. The context of that pasuk is Hashem's punishment of David ha'Melech for taking a census of Bnei Yisrael. Hashem responded by giving David a choice of punishments, and David chose "three days of the sword of Hashem, a pestilence in the land, with an angel of God bringing destruction throughout all the borders of Israel" (Divrei ha'Yamim I 21:12). The pasuk cited by the Haggadah refers to the moment when David confronted this angel, whose hand was stayed by Hashem's command: "David raised his eyes and saw the angel of Hashem standing between the earth and heaven, with his sword drawn in his hand, stretched out over Yerushalayim, and David and the elders, who were covered in sackcloth, fell on their faces" (ibid. 21:16).
3. What essential idea of Yetzias Mitzrayim does this drashah express? The Rambam maintains that these drashos are our vehicle of sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim (telling the account of the Exodus from Egypt). [1] As such, they presumably teach ideas which are integral to the account of Yetzias Mitzrayim. What fundamental concept does this drashah convey? 

The Orchos Chaim [2] answers our first question by citing a famous midrash:

This refers to the sword used by the firstborns to kill their fathers, as we find in a drash: All of the firstborns went to their fathers when they heard that Paroh was warned about makkas bechoros. They said to them: "Since Moshe said that every firstborn will die, and everything he has said about this nation has come true, let us go and release these slaves from our midst, for unless we do this, our nation will die." Their fathers responded: "We shall allow [even] ten sons to die for every Egyptian, but we will not allow even one of [the Jews] to stand up and protect himself." 

The firstborns said [to themselves], "The cure for this plague is to go to Paroh, who is a firstborn. Perhaps he will have mercy on his own soul and let these slaves go." They went to Paroh and said, "Since Moshe said that every firstborn will die, and everything he has said about this nation has come true, let us go and release these slaves from our midst, for unless we do this, our nation will die." 

Paroh said to his servants, "Remove them (i.e. these firstborns) and break their knees, for I declared that it is either my life or the lives of these Hebrews, and you say thus?" Immediately, the firstborns went out and killed their fathers. Six hundred thousand [were killed]." 

This is what was written: "To He Who smites Egypt with their firstborns" (Tehilim 136:10). It does not say, "To He Who smites the firstborns of Egypt" but "To He Who smites Egypt with its firstborns" - since the firstborns are the ones who killed them. This is the "makkas cherev" (Plague of the Sword) that happened in Egypt. [3]

The Orchos Chaim answers our first question. What sword is the Haggadah referring to? The answer is: the sword used by the firstborns to kill their fathers prior to makkas bechoros, in retaliation for not letting Bnei Yisrael free.

The answer to the second question is very simple. What does the pasuk have to do with Yetzias Mitzrayim? The answer is: nothing. The only purpose of the pasuk is to demonstrate that the expression "outstretched" alludes to a makkah involving a sword, but the sword actually mentioned in the pasuk from Divrei ha'Yamim has nothing to do with the sword that played a role in the events of Yetzias Mitzrayim.

The only remaining question is: What does this teach us about Yetzias Mitzrayim? Levi (my chavrusa) proposed an answer based on the Orchos Chaim's commentary. Before I present his idea, let us conduct a little thought experiment. Imagine yourself as an Egyptian firstborn. You've just been informed of the impending makkas bechoros. Where do you turn for help? To the bedrock of security: your father. Imagine the psychological trauma that would ensue when your father says, "I will not save you. I'd rather let you die than let the Jewish slaves go free." 

After recovering from the shock, where do you turn next? To Paroh, who is not only the head of the government - another place where people turn for security - but who is, himself, a firstborn, and is therefore someone with whom you identify. And what does Paroh do? He orders his servants to break your knees for insubordination. 

So you and your fellow firstborns decide to take matters into your own hands by staging an uprising. You kill thousands of Egyptians, including your own fathers, thereby adding to the mass panic that had already plagued Egypt since the first makkah.

Now for Levi's idea. Makkas cherev brought about a total breakdown of psychological security in Egypt. This breach of security occurred at all levels of society: family (sons vs. fathers), government (citizens vs. Paroh), fellow citizens (i.e. firstborns vs. Egyptians), religion (i.e. Hashem's makkos targeting the Egyptian gods, culminating in korban Pesach) - not to mention the multiple blows dealt to the Egyptian psyche with each of the preceding makkos.

Perhaps this is the reason why our sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim must include makkas cherev. Our understanding and appreciation of the makkos would be incomplete if we did not recognize the psychological dimension of Hashem's strategic siege on Egypt.

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Chametz u'Matzah 7:4

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

[3] Tosafos (Shabbos 87b) brings down a slightly different version of the same midrash in his explanation of Shabbos ha'Gadol:

When the Jews took [the animals designated for] their Pesachim on that Shabbos [on the 10th of Nisan in Egypt], the non-Jewish firstborns went to the Jews and asked them why they were doing this, they said, "This is a Pesach-sacrifice to Hashem, Who will kill the Egyptian firstborns." The firstborns went to Paroh to ask him to send the Jews out, but he didn't want to. The firstborns waged war and killed many of the Egyptians. This is what was written: "To He Who smites Egypt with their firstborns."