Parashat Mishpatim, Ex. 21:1-24:18

This week’s portion – Mishpatim, or The Laws – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion. As you may recall, last week we read of how the Children of Israel received their Constitution – the famous Ten Commandments. Those majestic provisions painted in very broad brush-strokes a picture of the actions those people should take – such as recognizing our One God, keeping the Shabbat, and respecting our parents, as well as some of those they should not – such as not to steal, not to murder, or not to covet. This week, we move from the constitution the laws; from the general to the particular; from the majestic to the (somewhat mundane). But there is more here. 

As I have explained last week, the notion providing of one law to the entire people of Israel was quite a novel idea, and also (possibly) a consequence of Moshe’s heeding his father-in-law's advice and departing from the role of a sole arbiter of all the people’s disputes and controversies. Now that other judges were in charge of running the daily affairs of the legal system, they – and the people who were subject to their authority – were entitled to know (to quote the American Supreme Court some 200 years ago) “what the law is.” And the law IS the great Ten Commandments, but it is also many more “small commandments,” dealing not only with the most egregious of violations and heinous of crimes, but with many every-day occurrences that require a legal solution. This is the issue of this week's portion – the many laws that will shape the behavior, both criminal and civil, of the Jewish community for generations to come.

There are many “legal” things to say about these laws, including their beautiful consistency, hierarchy, internal logic, and practicality. But I am afraid all this would be of little interest, if any, to the non-lawyer readers of this blog. But even beyond the many legal aspects, one cannot escape a sense of awe when reading those ancient laws: how smart were the those people who authored those law back then, how relevant they still are today (or, put differently, how little has change in the past 3,000 years). To take but a few of my favorite examples: “And bribe you shall not take, as bribe will blind the eyes of wise men, and contrive the words of the righteous ones.” (Exodus 23:8); “And you shall not wrong a foreigner (or non-citizen) and you shall not oppress them, as you yourselves were foreigners in the land of Egypt.” (22:20); and there are many more, including, most importantly, the first official recognition of a woman's right to be supplied with food, cloths, and conjugal rights. (Ex. 21:10).

Today I want to demonstrate how two laws, well-established in their day and well understood, have undergone a transformative change over the years – and today are used for completely different purposes than those originally intended.

I. “An Eye for An Eye”

This week’s portion introduces, for the first time, the notion of “an eye for an eye” (Ex. 21:22-25; the term appears twice more in the Chumash; see Levit. 24:17-22; Deut. 19:16-21). It is interesting to note how this well-measured, carefully-calculated formula of compensatory damages turned over the years into the rallying cry of some over-zealot state prosecutors (primarily in some Southern states) who demand “justice” (euphemism for the death penalty) to the criminals they put on trial. Let me explain. First, let us see the context in which the term appears in this week’s portion. The “eye for an eye” term – sometimes referred to today as the “Talion” – appears in the context of a series of laws pertaining to physical altercations. Before the talion itself is mentioned, the text two incidents: the first of two (free) men fighting with each other, and the other of a (free) man hitting his slave - either male or female slaves. In both instances, it is clear the remedy for any injury caused is monetary; in other words, we are in the realm of civil (tort) law, where injuries are compensated by money, and not in the realm of criminal law, where injuries are punishable by imprisonment, maiming, or death. It is in this context that we reach the talion. Here is the full text of Exodus 21:22 et seq., with my comments in parenthesis:

“[22] When [free] men fight, and they [accidentally?] injure a pregnant woman, and her children have come out [she gave birth prematurely], and no other tragedy occurs, the penalty [for the hitting person] would be in the amount that the husband of that [pregnant] woman would determine and was given by the court; [23] But if a tragedy occurs, then you [the hitting person] shall give life for life, [24] eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, arm for an arm, foot for a foot, burn for a burn, wound for a wound, and bruise for a bruise.”

It is clear, therefore, that the text made an attempt to cover as many incidents bound to happen when two men are fighting. This is a fascinating issue, then as today – the protection of fragile groups of victims (like minors, elderly, and pregnant women) who suffer due to violence in the community – and the biblical text provides a well-measured response, determining, first, that this kind of injury should be compensated; that is – these people should be protected by law; and, second, that such protection is complete – for every damage they have suffered, for every bruise, injury, or lost limb – to them or to the babies – they should receive a full compensation for that very same amount.

Now to take this carefully-calculated compensation formula and turn it into the theoretical basis for (criminally) executing many an innocent victim – just because it “sounds good” (“The bible teaches us: Eye for an Eye. You, the jury, must give this man a taste of his own medicine; send him to death!”) – that is simply beyond me.

II. Kashrut Laws

Not too many are aware, but the entire corpus of the Laws of Kashrut (or dietary laws) stands on a single verse appearing in this week’s portion. [To be sure, there are many other verses relating to what a Jewish person may or may not eat; this one, however, is the lynchpin]: “Though shall not cook a young goat in his mother’s milk.” (Exodus 23:19).

This seemingly innocuous prohibition, which was prescribed – according to some of the commentators – in a direct response to other regional nations’ “special treat” during feasts (that is, the actual cooking of a young kid in its mother’s milk), was apparently designed to separate us from all other nations. We, the Jewish people, would not do such a thing. But then again, how would we know whether or not we’re cooking a lamb in his mother’s milk? Better to separate all lamb meals, and all milk meals, for a few hours. Better yet, let us separate all lamb meals, and all milk-product meals, for several hours – who knows, perhaps the cheese we're eating contains some of the mother's milk. To be completely safe, let us separate all meat-based products (not only lamb) and all milk-based products (not only milk) for several hours. Once we have done that, let us assure that those two groups of products will never be consumed in the same set of dishes – rather, two sets of dishes is warranted. And the washing of those dishes should be done in two separate sinks. Voila. And here we are, more than 3,000 years afterwards, with a very specific set of laws regarding the strict separation of meat and milk. Every single product that comes to our mouth is labeled: Is it milk? Is it meat? Is it Neither? Every single meal is carefully planned so it would not violate those laws.

And all of this comes from a single verse – "Though shall not cook a young goat in his mother’s milk." Amazing.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Yitro, Exodus 18:1 - 20:23

This week’s portion – named after Moshe’s father in law, Yitro – is the portion of Matan Torah, the great event of giving the Torah to Israel by God.  This is perhaps the most important, most defining moment in the young life of this multitude of slaves who are about to become the Children of Israel. In fact, this moment was so potent and so dramatic, that its effects are well felt among us even today, more than 3,000 years later. Indeed, from both a religious and historical perspective, the event of receiving the Jewish constitution straight from the hands of God could not be overemphasized in its importance.

This short post, obviously, is not the proper venue to discuss the multitude of issues surrounding the Ten Commandments given to the Children of Israel.  For example, “I am the Lord Your God” – the first of them is, for many (including Leibowitz), not only the most important of them all but in fact encapsulates the entire Torah in one sentence.  For others (including one of Leibovitz’s preeminent students, Prof. Assa Kasher) “You shall have no lord other than me” is the most pertinent Commandment to Judaism. Still others question the number ten with regards to the Commandments.  Similarly, arguments abound as to the exact content and nature the Second Commandment. Finally, many discussions try to understand the last Commandment, which in essence forbids people to think in a certain way. How may such a law be enforced?

As I have noted earlier, this post is not the proper forum to discuss these wonderful issues.  I do urge you, however, to examine the text of the portion itself carefully, and see for yourself why this classic text hasn’t lost its appeal several thousands of years after it was first introduced.

Today I would like to make two short comments on issues the precedes the actual receiving of the Torah: The first is known as Yitro (or Jethro)’s Advice, and the second relates to the preparation for the “Big Event.” 

I. Yitro’s Advice and the Biblical Separation of Powers

Moshe’s father-in-law, Yitro, comes to visit him, accompanied by Moshe’s wife Zipora – famous for not being Jewish – and his two kids.  (Obviously, Moshe has not been in touch with his family for quite some time; this is one of the earliest documented examples of a leader who gave everything to his People, including sacrificing his own personal life).  As the morning arrives, to the great astonishment of Yitro, Moshe is hard at work:  “And on the next day and Moshe sat [and began] to judge the people, and the people stand upon Moshe [all day] from the morning until the evening.”  (Exodus 18:13). Yitro is shocked: “Why are you sitting all on your own while the entire people gathers upon you from morning until evening?” And Moshe answers: “Because the people come to me to seek God; should they have a dispute they would come to me, and I will judge between a man and his fellow, and I would announce to them the laws of God and his Torah.” (Ex. 18:14-16).  Now at this point, most commentators ascribe Moshe’s exclusive behavior to the fact that he is an inexperienced leader, and perhaps could not think of delegating any of the divine authorities he was given. This makes much sense, in particular in light of the fact that in this fragile point of the People of Israel’s history, no courts, no enforcement agencies, and very little legislative power are used. Thus, it fell upon Moshe, and Moshe alone, to both announce the law (legislator), judge concrete cases (judge), and, should need be, enforce the ruling (executive). This is the conventional wisdom of Moshe’s model of judging in the desert. 

 But I suspect something else may be at play here. Recall that Moshe was raised among royalty. Surely he hasn’t seen King Pharaoh sitting all day judging “small claims” between the people of Egypt. Surely he hasn’t seen the people of Egypt standing “upon their king” from morning until night and detailing their disputes. Accordingly, he knew full well that the role of a leader is not to intervene in the most minute of controversies between people. In my mind, however, Moshe had a much larger agenda in mind than simply judging the people’s “small claims”; Moshe wanted to establish a unified system of theological law – the law of the Jewish God, of course – that he would both announce and apply equally throughout all members of this new community.  This is why he did not want – or use – any other person for the arduous task judging, for the fear they would deviate from his message – despite the heavy toll it exacted on him.

But Yitro overcomes these somewhat grandiose ambitions by simple reasoning: “What you are doing is not right; you shall wither away, both yourself and the people that is with you, as this is too heavy a burden for you – you are not able to do it all by yourself.” (Ex. 18:17) Hence Yitro’s advice, in essence to nominate judges of small claims (“for every ten”), judges of general disputes (“for every fifty”), judges of appeals (“for every hundred”), and quasi- Supreme Court judges (“for thousands”).  Moshe would remain as the ultimate arbiter, in case a hard issue of law is not resolves below him. (Until today, many legal systems in Europe work according to this model precisely). 

What’s fascinating to me is the link – which I have not found anywhere in the commentaries – between this advice and the Ten Commandments. Indeed, most commentators considers the second – and seminal – half of this portion, the one dealing with the Ten Commandments as important yet completely separate from the story of Yitro. This is not the case in my mind. Indeed, it is quite clear to me that once Moshe had to abandon his “single model” of law – “the law is me” – he had to come up with a bold new concept; and that concept – not less bold than its predecessor – was the public announcement the entire code to all members of the community at the same time, so they would all – including the Judges – know what the law is, precisely.  This is in my mind what prompted the entire idea of announcing the Ten Commandments (as well as the special manner in which they were announced; on this see more below).

I cannot finish this comment without reciting the beautiful list of traits that was sought in a judge more than 3,000 years ago. With all the incredible advancement of legal research since that time, I could not think of a more succinct, elegant, and ideal set of requests from a judge even today, as it was stated then by Yitro: “You shall seek of the entire nation exceptional people, who fear God; people of truth, who despise greed.” (Ex. 18:21). How many judges today do you know that fulfill those ancient requirements?   

II. The Preparation for Receiving the Torah

The second comment I would like to make today relates to the wonderful scene that preceded the actual Receiving of the Torah by the Children of Israel. The description of these visions includes some of the most vivid, visual, dramatic, and detailed account in the entire cannon.  You could almost think of yourself as a fly on the wall (or on a tent-post) in the Israeli camp, looking at these former slaves who are now ordered to prepare to the biggest event yet in their lives, including to wash their clothes for the first time since they left Egypt; to keep away from the big mountain; to abstain from sex (with women); and more generally to thoroughly prepare – for three days – for the big moment.  And then the constituent moment itself finally arrives: “On the third day, as morning dawned, there were loud voices, and lightning, and a dark cloud descended on the mountain, and the voice of the Shofar came very loud – and all the people in the camp were very fearful.”  (Ex. 19:16; the beautiful description continues in the text itself).  

This preparation (and the exacting language in which it is described) is indeed special, and was probably meant to detract the people of Israel from their every-day hardships in the desert.  But in my mind it was meant to serve another purpose, on which I pointed earlier: Now that Moshe would not be available to every person as a judge on a daily basis, he wanted to guarantee that his (or God’s) law would still rule throughout; he was also adamant that this law should apply uniformly to every member of the community. But in order to achieve such a feat something special was required – a simple declaration of the new divine law would probably not work on the same group of people who just recently witnessed the same God parting a sea for them to walk, and then drowning the entire cavalry mission of the leading regional superpower of the period. Thus, Moshe’s announcement required drama, panache, suspense, and anticipation (mixed with fear).  This was Moshe’s thought process, and the impressive result is presented to us today via the text of this week’s portion.

Did it work? We’ll have to wait four weeks before we read about the Golden Calf.  So the short answer, unfortunately, is “no.”  But is there a silver lining as well?  Let me know what you think.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron   

Parashat Be'Shalach, Exodus 13:17-17:16

This week’s portion – Be’Shalach, roughly translated to “when [Pharaoh] sent [the People of Israel] away” – is extremely visual.  It begins by telling the story of the first days, and then weeks, following the Exodus – the departing of Egypt; yet it is written more like a screenplay, a compilation of visual images.  Indeed, some of the most dramatic scenes ever envisioned (and later attempted to be captured by Cecil B. DeMille’s wonderful “The Ten Commandments”) are reported here in great detail:  The parting of the (Red) Sea, the drowning of all of Pharaoh’s cavalry, the “pillar of cloud” walking in front of the People of Israel in the day, and the “pillar of fire” by night, and many others. Not for naught it was said about this portion that “what the lowliest of slaves had actually seen by that sea, even Prophet Ezekiel hasn’t seen in his grandest of visions.” 

But beyond its wonderful imagery, this week’s portion is also unique in that it consists of a very mixed bag: On the one hand, it contains some of the greatest moments of faith between the People of Israel and their God; on the other, it contains some of the most bitter revelations of anger, non-faith, and continuing complaints against God by the same group of people. This tension – between faith and non-faith, between the holy and the ordinary, between the daily struggle and the occasional miracle, which is a part and parcel of the life of every practicing Jewish person – was wonderfully summed up (although in a different context) by Israel’s national poet, C.N. Bialik, in the opening lines of his famous poem, My Father:

“Strange were the ways of my life and puzzlement ruled their direction,

Between the gateways of purity and vile they have constantly circled,

The sacrosanct has intertwined with the profane,

And the glorious with the loathsome wallowed …”

(My translation, which does not do justice with the sublime original).

Indeed, alongside the most beautiful vision of divine miracle, the Children of Israel are quick to remind us of the mundane, frustrating, and – although it is hard to accept so early – the faithless lives of this recently-freed nation of slaves. My two short comments today would relate, first, to the notion of “how quickly we forget,” and then – in close relation – to the false question of “the proof of the existence of God.” 

I. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi . . . 

Right after God commits some of His most astonishing miracles – the parting of the sea, the drowning of the enemy’s cavalry, etc., etc. – we find the newly-freed nation, not surprisingly, in an abiding mode: “And Israel has seen the wondrous hand which God laid upon Egypt, and the people have seen God, and they believed in God and in Moses His slave.” (Exodus 14:31).  To loyal readers of this blog, this classic move – of first showing God’s great powers and then the result of believing in Him – should sound familiar.  Indeed, the Father of our Nation, Abraham, was first said to “believe in God” right after God promised him that he would receive all the best in this world  (Gen. 15:6).  But, God usually doesn’t end there – believing in Him when things are good is easy; what happens when things don’t go so well? Well before the story of Job, God tests Abraham despite the textual testament that Abraham believes in Him, and asks Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son (Gen. 22:1).  Abraham’s belief is not shaken – perhaps even strengthened – by the ordeal.  But God also tests Abraham’s descendants, with much less success.  The same people who just witnessed some of the greatest miracles ever recorded, are now threatening to soon stone His slave Moshe  (Ex. 17:4), and are now quick to wonder “whether our Lord God is present among us or not” (Ex. 17:7).

Indeed, as the Latin saying goes, “thus passes the glory of the world,” or, in modern English usage, “how quickly we forget.”  But why is that? What caused the people to turn their heart away from God so quickly?

Though many answers were offered to this question, I would like to offer one from an area near and dear to me: the great outdoors.  Despite the fact that the People of Israel were slaves in Egypt – and thus used to hard labor in the hot desert sun – they were not used to walking in the desert.  As you may recall, they were walking the entire first night, and then – without mentioning any break – continued to walk onward for days; but they didn’t have, nor did they see, any clear indication of a water source.  Their first Divine test, therefore, was a direct, very concrete one: A fear of dying in the desert of dehydration, or a total belief in God: “And they went three days in the desert and they have not found any water” (Ex. 15:22); “And they were encamped in Rephidim, and there is no water for the People to drink” (Ex. 17:1).  Viewed that way, it’s not completely facetious to assume that quite a few reasonable people – perhaps even some readers of this blog – would turn atheist in the face of such a test. 

But what is also fascinating is not merely the fact of the people’s rapid turn of heart, but rather the content of their grievances.  Only a short period has passed since these slaves complained (wonderfully) to Pharaoh about the dismal conditions of their employment: “Straw you failed to provide to your slaves, yet bricks you order us to make! Thus your slaves are being beaten. . .” (Ex. 5:16); only a short time has passed since God himself confesses to Moshe that He has “heard the crying of the Children of Israel that are slaving under Egypt” (Ex. 6:5), and yet just a short period afterwards Egypt seems like Paradise, and these same people complain to Moshe: “How we wish we were dead at the hand of God [here in the desert; unlike] in the land of Egypt, where we sat by the pot of meat, where we have eaten bread until we were full – and now you have taken us all out to this desert to starve this entire congregation to death.” (Ex. 17:3).  What is happening here? How can their memory be so short?

The answer is well-researched today.  Economist and psychologists – mainly Kahnman & Tverski (the former received a Nobel Prize in economics for his research on the subject) – remind us that we prefer what is available to us – even if it is extremely detrimental to us – to something we have no familiarity with. (Oversimplified, this is what they called the “availability heuristics” in their seminal 1973 article published in Science magazine.)  Think for a second about your own life: would you prefer the known and familiar – even if you do not particularly like it – or to venture off to a new start, somewhere you have never been before?  The quintessential paradigm here is – just like in the Bible – your workplace: Most people complain about their workplace, yet very few leave on their own accord.  Is that the “People of Israel” syndrome?

  

II. Can you “Prove” that God Exists?

Here I want to make a very short, but crucial point on the great issue of Faith.  Many times, ever since the fourth grade, I hear a lot of people tell me: “If you prove to me that God exists, I will then – and only then – believe in God.”  Two things are wrong with that argument:  First, as we have seen in this week’s portion, “proof of God” has nothing to do with the notion of faith. As we have learned, the lowliest of slave standing on the departed Red Sea has seen, in her own eyes, the glory and mighty of God like no one before or since, and yet the People of Israel turned away from God in a heartbeat, as soon as things became difficult in the desert.  In contrast – and this is Leibovitz’s point – for many generations Jewish people who have never seen God or never even imagined that they would ever see him, not only believed in Him wholeheartedly, but were willing to sacrifice themselves on “Kidush Ha’Shem” – for the sake of God – while reciting the Sh’ma rather than to convert to another religion.   That alone goes to show that the correlation between that so-called “proof” and the notion of “faith” is anecdotal at best.

But on a deeper level, the sentence itself – “prove to me X, and then I will believe in X” is simply a non-sequitur.  If one chooses to believe in something, than they must relinquish any desire for proof that that this simething exists; otherwise, there is no room for belief. By the same token, if something is proven to you, you can’t be said to believe in that thing; rather, you simply know, or aware of its existence.  Thus, you cannot believe that the table on which I’m writing this blog exists; you simply know it. Similarly, you can’t know that Roger Federer would win the upcoming Australian Open in tennis, but you – or I, for that matter – may certainly believe in it.

Indeed, belief and proof are mutually exclusive.  You either believe in something, or you have proof (know) it exists. For that reason, many scientists were – and still are – religious: They had (or even created) proof for many areas in their research field, but they did not have (and couldn’t have) any proof that God exists (or does not exist) and therefore they believed in Him. 

Finally, therefore, you may stop asking yourself (and others) for the proof of the existence of God in the world, and simply ask yourself that: do you believe in Him?

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Bo (Exodus 10:1-13:17)

This week’s portion, “Bo” – literally “come to,” or “go to” (as in “go to Pharaoh") – tells the incredible story of the Exodus of the Children of Israel from Egypt. Thus, more than 430 years after Israel (Jacob) himself arrived there (Exodus 12:40), the people consisted of his disciples left in a single night.  And what a remarkable story that is.  The portion – both very eloquent in style and very rich in data – tells us how more than 600,000 adult males, with their children, families, companions, and much property (Ex. 12:37), have all left their country of origin without hesitation, to follow their new leader into an unknown land. Recall – there were no means of transportation back then:  No cars, no trucks, no busses, no airplanes, and no ships (at least not at their disposal).  They all left on their own two feet; they all walked away from Egypt.  And they prepared well for leaving in a hurry, with divine instructions that may well-resonate even today with every parent who would like their children to leave in a hurry: “And this is how you shall eat [your last meal before departure]:  your loins must be girded, your sandals on your feet, and your walking poles at hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly.”  (Ex. 12:11)

The text of this week’s portion is one of the classics, containing not only vast portions of the Passover Haggadah (including the famous justification of its very title: “And you shall tell your son [“Ve’hee’ga’de’tah le’vin’cha”] on that day the following: It is for that that the Lord performed for me when I have left Egypt” (Exodus 13:8)), but also selected portions of the constituent She’ma text (Ex. 13:9 (“And this shall serve as a sign on your hand…”); Ex. 13:16 (similar)).   In short, there is many a good reason to read this portion in full this week.

Today I would like to make two short remarks, one about collective corporal punishment, and the other about the act of leaving a country in which you were born.

I. The Tenth Plague

Two weeks ago, at the very beginning of the book of Exodus, we were quickly introduced to the new King of Egypt’s most brutal decree:  “And the King of Egypt spoke to the Hebrew midwives . . . and said: “When you deliver the Hebrew women, look at the birth stones: if it is a boy, you shall kill him, and if a girl – she would live.”  (Exodus 1:15-16).  “How unjust,” we might have thought as we read the text, “what have those little babies done that they deserve meeting their faith in such a horrific way.”  The rest of the text, by the way, suggests that the Hebrew midwives never abided by the King’s order, for which they were summoned for a quick “supreme court” hearing with the King (Exodus 1:17-20 – no harm was done to them).  Still, the impression of a brutal, arbitrary, and extremely unjust punishment – bore by a vast group for no fault of their own – remains with us as one of the most defining characteristics of the new King.

In today’s portion, we learn of a much wider-scale, collective “first-born” punishment scheme – one that actually occurred.  To recap, after performing nine of the plagues (which the text insists on calling “marvels” (Ex. 12:10), which also brings back the issue of the number “ten” discussed last time), Pharaoh still refuses to “let my People go.”  Thus, God – through Moshe – turns to a measure of last resort: The Plague of Killing All First Born.

Three full chapters (Ex. 11-13) are dedicated to the planning, announcement, preparation for, and then meticulous execution of this drastic measure.  It begins with God’s dramatic message to Moshe: “One more plague I will bring upon Pharaoh and Egypt, and after that he will send you away…” (Ex. 11:1).  And what is that plague? “And every first-born in the land of Egypt shall die, from the first-born of Pharaoh who sits on his throne to the first-born of the slave-woman who is behind the grind stone, and all of the first-born of the cattle. And there shall be a huge cry in the entire land of Egypt, a cry like which has never been, and like which shall never occur.” (Ex. 11:5-6).  To eliminate any doubt, and as highly emphasized by the Passover Haggadah, this measure was undertaken by God himself (“And Moshe said, so said God: Towards midnight I will go out into the land of Egypt” Ex. 11:4); not by a messenger, not by an angel, and not by a seraph.  Rather, God himself implemented this drastic measure, which resulted in “no household in Egypt in which there is no death.” (Ex. 12:30).

Clearly, God’s “last word” was in direct response to Pharaoh’s diabolic scheme to kill every “Hebrew” first born. But was that too strong a measure? Faithful readers of this blog know something about the social institute of First Born in those times.  Eliminating all the first borns must have had, therefore, much greater effect than merely the coincidental loss of several men of Egypt; rather, an entire generation of future leaders was wiped in a single night. To be sure, Pharaoh’s plan in comparison was even harsher as it targeted all male newborn, not only the first born.  Yet Pharaoh’s idea remained just that – an idea, while God’s plan to inflict pain upon the entire nation of Egypt (and their property) was executed in full.  Was this too harsh? Recall that most Egyptians had no say in the tough-measure negotiations that took place between Pharaoh and Moshe.  Yet, they suffered the most, each family losing its own first-born.  But the exact same argument could be heard from the “Hebrews,” who did no harm to Pharaoh and yet were about to lose all their male newborns. Still was God’s measure an overkill? (pardon the pun.)

The measure, it should be said, worked well.  Pharaoh – who just threatened Moshe not to see his face again, “for the day you shall see my face again you shall die” (Ex. 10:28) – now calls Moshe and Aharon in the middle of the night (the same night where God killed all first-born) and practically rushes them to “get up and get away from my People.” (Ex. 12:31). And they do.  But does the effectiveness of the measure justify its degree?  In modern constitutional terms, the question is whether this measure is proportional:  could we have reached the same result by a much lesser of a measure? (Note, for instance, that none of the previous nine plagues has inflicted any death on Egypt – though it did inflict much suffering; should that be a consideration in inflicting this one final measure?).  According to my dad (God bless his sole), the fact that it worked, shows that it was the right measure. ‘The proof is in the pudding’, he says. And my dad is usually right. Is he right this time?

II. Leaving Your Country

An overlooked aspect of this week’s portion is the fact that this is the first time in history that a mass immigration has occurred (or, at least, has been documented). An entire nation, more than million in numbers, is getting up in one night and leaving their homeland of 430 years.  What were their thoughts, fears, hesitations?  For anyone who has ever left his or her homeland, leaving your country is far from a trivial thing to do. In the United States, even leaving your state of birth to “migrate” to one of the larger cities (NY, Chicago, L.A.) is not so simple.  How can an entire nation, then, get up and leave in one night? 

In stark contrast to the first portion in Exodus, where Moshe faced some serious issues of obedience and recognition, here the People of Israel immediately “bow down and kneel” when they hear his instructions. (Exodus 12:28).  And while it is true that in the coming weeks we’ll be hearing several times about their grievances (in particular, how Moshe separated them from the “pot full of meat” they had in Egypt to bring them into the desert), that night was a night of unity and obedience.

Now think for a moment of yourself and all the people you have ever known.  Would it be easier to leave your country with all of them, beginning a long journey towards a country unknown? Or would you rather do it on your own? The answer, I think, may point us in the direction of this strikingly unified answer provided by the People of Israel.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron