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Parsha Themes Archive

Last week’s shiur was about the Egyptian attitude toward Bnei Yisrael and how Bnei Yisrael’s lack of strong leadership contributes to their weakness and the ability of Paro to enslave and murder them. We did not develop the second major theme in Parashat Shemot: the appearance of Moshe Rabbeinu. We will begin with that theme this week (we will not actually make it into Parashat Va-Era).

The way the Torah tells of Moshe’s birth and his adventures in the Nile (at the age of three months) brings to mind some events we looked at a long time ago:

The woman [i.e., Moshe’s mother] conceived and bore a son. She saw [”va-teireh”] that he was good [”ki tov”], and hid him for three months. She then could no longer hide him. She took a box [”teiva”] of reeds, smeared it with sealing and tar, put the boy into it, and put it among the reeds at the edge of the river.

These two pesukim (verses) contain two kernels which hint to themes which will occupy the rest of the sefer (book). By using particular words or phrases, the Torah often hints to connections between events. Here, the parallels jump right out at us:

The Torah uses the same phrase: “. . . saw . . . was good” with regard to both Hashem’s appraisal of Creation, way back in Parashat Bereishit, and here as well, with regard to Moshe’s mother’s appraisal of her newborn son.

The second parallel is a word, not a phrase: the word “teiva,” “box” or “ark,” appears both here with regard to Moshe, and, much earlier, with regard to No’ah (“No’ah’s Ark”).

The first parallel stands on its own: the language of the two phrases is sufficiently similar that it seems the Torah means for us to make these connections (Hazal, in fact, do connect these pesukim). But the second parallel (“teiva”) needs more justification -- how do we know that the Torah truly means to connect the story of Moshe with the story of No’ah just because of this one word? One way to be more certain that a pattern is truly meaningful is to check how rare the word is. “Teiva” turns out to be pretty rare: the word appears in only two places in all of Tanakh (the Bible) -- here, referring to Moshe’s little ark, and in Parashat No’ah, referring to the Ark built by No’ah for himself, his family, and a zoo’s worth of animals.

Now that we have noted these linguistic parallels, we need to make sense of them: what are the thematic connections between Moshe’s birth and Creation, and between Moshe’s ark and Noah’s? In order to understand these connections, we need to first look at these phrases in context:

What is the parallel between “Va-yar Elokim ki tov” and “Va-teireh oto ki tov hu”? Both are stories of creation: the story of Creation itself clearly deals with “creation”; the story of the birth of Moshe heralds creation in a more subtle way:

How does the salvation of No’ah thematically in a “teiva” parallel the salvation of Moshe in a “teiva”? Both stories share:

Why does the Torah draw this parallel? What is the Torah trying to communicate?

In our discussions of Parashat Bereshit and Parashat No’ah, we noted that at first, Hashem seems to want to establish a close relationship with all of humanity. When He creates the first human(s), He makes clear that the purpose of humanity is to achieve the status of a “tzelem Elokim” -- an image of Hashem. Humanity is supposed to attempt to emulate Hashem’s (a) creativity, (b) control of the universe, and (c) morality, by being (a) creative (procreating), (b) asserting control over the world, and (c) behaving morally. But before long, humanity fails this mission, and “the earth was full of evil/violence” (Bereshit 6:11 and 6:13). Humanity may have achieved creativity and control, but morally, it has failed. Hashem decides that creating humanity was a mistake -- “I regret that I made them” (Bereshit 6:7) -- and that the “experiment” is over. Humanity must be destroyed.

But Hashem saves No’ah because he is an “ish tzaddik.” This act signals Hashem’s new strategy: before, the plan had been to relate closely to all of humanity. Now, Hashem will choose either individuals or a group from among humanity to carry out His mission. The selected people will be held to the high standards of morality necessary for maintaining a relationship with Hashem, and may also have the job of educating the rest of the world about morality.

The selection of No’ah to survive while the rest of humanity dies exemplifies this new strategy. Shortly after humanity is re-established after the Flood -- and begins once again to flout Hashem’s wishes by building the Tower of Bavel -- Hashem acts on His new strategy and chooses an individual to found the group with which He plans to establish a close relationship. This is, of course, Avraham, who is chosen to found a special nation. In the salvation of No’ah -- a righteous individual -- is “hidden” the kernel of Hashem’s plan to select a nation to call His own.

If so, then the Torah evokes the No’ah theme now, as Moshe is saved from death, in order to hint that with the salvation of Moshe, Hashem’s plan of choosing that special nation is about to unfold. The saving of Moshe 1) from mass destruction 2) through drowning 3) which takes place through a “teiva,” 4) because “he was good” (= “No’ah ish tzaddik”), flashes us back to Parashat No’ah and hints that the process of selecting the people to form a relationship with Hashem is about to bear fruit.

We now watch as Moshe grows up and takes tentative steps toward his fellow Israelites. The Torah tells us three stories about Moshe prior to Hashem’s revelation to him at the (non)-burning bush; we will deal with them separately:

The Torah tells us that Moshe grows up and then “went out to his brothers and saw their burdens” (2:11). This itself is somewhat surprising: Moshe identifies with Bnei Yisrael, his “brothers” [”ehav”] despite having grown up in an Egyptian household -- fact, the household of Pharaoh. Somehow, he has maintained his identitas a Jew; he sees the lowly, enslaved Jews as his brothers despite having grown up an aristocrat in a society which looks down on the Jews as lower-class citizens, or at least slaves (and perhaps even lower-order creatures, as discussed last week). Even these slaves are his “brothers.”

he gets into trouble the very next day when the most obvious witness --

The way Moshe deals with the brutal Egyptian demonstrates his powerful sense of justice. The Torah tells us that before killing the Egyptian, Moshe “looked this way and that way,” but wherever he looked, “he saw that there was no one” to witness what he was about to do. Of course, there is someone right in front of him -- the very Jew whom he is saving -- but since Moshe thinks of this Jew as part of his team, “there was no one” there -- no one to be concerned about. But Moshe is wrong, and he realizes this with surprise the next day when implicitly threatened with exposure by a Jew. It seems that the very Jew he was trying to save (who else could have told the tale?) could not keep the secret, and Moshe’s brave act exposes him to danger.

One lesson Moshe is taught is that a leader cannot necessarily count on others to be his or her co-conspirators. In the future, as Bnei Yisrael’s leader, Moshe will face this gap again and again. As close as any leader might come to the people he leads, there will always remain a gap between the leader and the led. The leader can never depend on the led to cover for him or look out for his interests; he can never assume (without checking) that he and the led share interests. Sefer BeMidbar (Numbers) will provide us with many instances where the Jews turn on Moshe as a group, blaming him for dragging them out of wonderful Egypt into the wasteland of the desert. While Moshe is willing to tolerate this sort of relationship for a long time, he eventually becomes frustrated (in Parashat Be-ha’alotekha) and attempts to resign his post.

Now we move to the second story of Moshe’s early days: the two fighting Jews. Moshe quickly identifies the one at fault and tries to put a stop to the violence: “Why do you hit your fellow?” But bringing peace turns out to be much more complicated than just taking the moral high ground. Hazal tell us that offering tokhaha (reproof) is so difficult that no one has the sensitivity to carry it off anymore. Tokhaha is a form of teaching and should also manifest concern for the spiritual welfare of the sinner (as well registering a personal protest against the commission of sin). But it can also -- and usually does -- make for an adversarial relationship between reprover and reproved. Few people like to be told they are doing something wrong, especially in front of other people and when emotions are high -- like during a fistfight. Facing a situation like the one Moshe faces, it is not simple to decide what to do. Moshe actually does very little -- all he does is ask “Why do you hit your fellow?”, but the response is furious, sarcastic, and above all, contains a threat to Moshe.

Looking back now on these two stories, it looks like there might be more than just one reason why Moshe runs to Midyan. The Torah tells us that he runs away to avoid being prosecuted (read “executed”) for killing the Egyptian. But on a more subtle level, he has shown concern for his people -- twice -- and twice he has been rejected. First he saves the life of the Jew being beaten by the Egyptian, but instead of keeping Moshe’s act a secret, the Jew tells his family and friends, and the secret gets out. Moshe risks his life to save this man, but the man turns around and endangers Moshe’s life. Then Moshe tries to defuse conflict between two Jews, who not only reject him, but also threaten him. How eager would YOU be to maintain a relationship with this group of people?

Meanwhile, Paro wants to kill Moshe. The simple reading is that he wants to execute him for killing the Egyptian who was beating the Jew. But since Moshe is Paro’s adopted grandson, isn’t there some sort of royal immunity?

Grandson or not, Moshe is a Jew to Paro, and the most dangerous thing in his mind is a Jew who shows signs of leadership and resistance (see last week’s shiur). Paro allows his daughter to save the Jewish baby she finds in the Nile since he assumes that the child, raised as an Egyptian, will never become a threat. But now he sees Moshe as a potential troublemaker, perhaps even the first spark of Jewish resistance. Moshe’s defense of his stricken brother, if not firmly punished by Paro, might send the message to Moshe or to others that there is hope for resistance.

The Torah next reports Moshe’s flight from Egypt and his arrival at Midyan. I don’t want to spend too much time here, but it’s worth noting an interesting pattern:

YA’AKOV MOSHE

Besides noting this parallelism and offering it for you to “unpack,” one other important point is also worth mentioning: this story again shows how Moshe Rabbeinu’s sense of justice and fairness impels him to take action to right wrongs. He cannot stand by while evil goes on before him. Even though his interference has already landed him in trouble with Paro, he has not concluded that the smart thing to do is to ignore injustice. He stands up for the daughters of Yitro and prevents the other shepherds from taking advantage of them.

We now move on to Moshe Rabbeinu’s first meeting with Hashem -- the burning bush. Hashem hears the cries of anguish of Bnei Yisrael, the Torah says; Hashem “remembers” His covenant with the Avot (forefathers), the promise to make their descendants into a great nation and to give them the Land of Cana’an. After giving us this peek into Hashem’s thought process, as it were, the story continues with the flaming bush which attracts Moshe’s attention.

Moshe was tending the sheep of Yitro, his father-in-law, priest of Midyan. He led the sheep toward the desert and came to the mountain of Hashem at Horev. An angel of Hashem APPEARED [”VA-YERA”] to him in a flaming fire from a bush. He SAW [”VA-YAR”] that the bush was flaming with fire, but the bush was not consumed. Moshe said, “Let me go over and SEE [”ER-EH”] this fantastic SIGHT [”MAREH”] -- why doesn’t the bush burn up?” Hashem SAW [VA-YAR”] that he had turned to LOOK [”LI-R’OT”]. Hashem called to him from the bush: “Moshe! Moshe!” He said, “Here I am.”

Within just 3 pesukim, six different variants of the root “ra-ah” -- “to see” -- appear. The irony of this root’s presence here becomes clear as we read on:

He [Hashem] said, “Do not come closer; take your shoes off of your feet, for the ground you stand on is holy ground.” He said, “I am the God of your fathers, God of Avraham, God of Yitzhak, and God of Ya’akov.” Moshe **HID HIS FACE,** because he was afraid of LOOKING at Hashem.

After all this emphasis on “seeing,” and with Moshe so eager to “see” this great “sight” which has “appeared” to him, with Hashem “seeing” that Moshe has come to “see” what it is, when he actually finds out what it is, he doesn’t want to “see” it at all! He hides his face, afraid to look at Hashem. This scene foreshadows and encapsulates the entire conversation which ensues between Hashem and Moshe: Hashem announces in dramatic, formal fashion that He has heard the cries of His people (this is the first time Hashem refers to Bnei Yisrael as “Ami,” “My nation”), that He remembers the covenant with the Avot, and has now “descended” to pass judgment on the foe. He will redeem thepeople with mighty miracles, “signs” and “wonders,” and the people will then serve Him on Har Sinai. They will move from to inherit the land promised to them. But Moshe continues to “hide his face” from Hashem, expressing self-doubt and fear and refusing to accept Hashem’s mission to lead the people.

In light of Moshe’s future interactions with Hashem, it is curious that Moshe is now afraid to “look” at Hashem. Much later, we find Moshe actively seeking opportunities for greater levels of revelation:

He [Moshe] said [to Hashem], “SHOW ME Your glory!”

By the time the event in the above pasuk occurs, Moshe has accepted the Torah from Hashem, discovered that the people have built an idol in his absence, and returned to the mountain for the second Tablets and to seek forgiveness for the people. Seeing that Hashem is in a favorable mood, so to speak, Moshe gains forgiveness for the people and then requests: “Show me Your glory!” Not only is Moshe not afraid to “see” Hashem’s glory, he is so bold as to *request* this experience. Clearly, Moshe’s relationship with Hashem develops over time. Earlier on, he is overcome by awe, “afraid to look at Hashem.” But by the time he has served as the intermediary for the revelation of the Torah at Har Sinai, he is eager for an experience of greater divine revelation. He asks for the highest level possible. Hashem tells Moshe that he cannot truly see Him without dying in the process; He then shows Moshe His “back.” We will look much more closely at this experience when we get there (Parashat Ki Tisa), but for now it is important to realize that Moshe undergoes a process of transformation and growth in his relationship with Hashem.

Hashem speaks to Moshe from the bush, calling his name. Moshe responds, but he does not yet know Who is speaking to him. Only when Hashem explicitly reveals His identity does Moshe cover his face in fear of looking at Him. Hashem commands Moshe to remove his shoes before he comes any closer: the ground before him is holy.

Where else are people told to remove their shoes because they are standing on holy ground?

Just after Yehoshua brings Bnei Yisrael over the Jordan River into Cana’an, a warrior appears to him (Joshua 5). When Yehoshua asks him whether he is friend or foe, the warrior tells Yehoshua that he is actually the angel-general of Hashem’s army, sent to guide Bnei Yisrael in their conquest of the Land of Cana’an. He tells Yehoshua to take off his shoes, that the ground he stands on is holy.

Moshe stands in our parasha on Har Horev (Har Sinai); Yehoshua stands somewhere outside of Yeriho (Jericho). What is so special about Har Horev and “some place near Yeriho,” that Hashem commands Moshe and Yehoshua to remove their shoes?

At least in the case of Har Sinai, the answer seems obvious: this ground is holy because Hashem will deliver the Torah to Bnei Yisrael on this spot. But that only begs the next question: why indeed does Hashem choose Har Sinai in particular to deliver the Torah?

Perhaps these places -- Har Sinai and “somewhere near Yeriho” -- are holy because of *what* Hashem tells the prophet there, not because of any inherent quality of the places themselves. There is nothing really special about Har Sinai itself: it is a desert mountain, and not a particularly imposing one (as Hazal point out), located three days’ journey from Egypt and eleven days’ journey from Cana’an. It is distinguished not at all; it lies, so to speak, exactly in the middle of nowhere. The same is true of the place where Hashem’s warrior-general-angel appears to Yehoshua: outside of Yeriho, somewhere near the border of the Land of Cana’an but not in a city or some other significant location.

Both of these revelations of Hashem have special characteristics, which may explain why the ground is made holy by the revelation. In both stories, Hashem entrusts the prophet with his life’s mission:

The reason these places are considered holy is because special divine revelations take place there: two leaders of unparalleled significance in the history of Kelal Yisrael receive their missions in these revelations. The special message sanctifies the ground on which the revelation takes place.

This is also what sanctifies Har Sinai as far as the revelation of the Torah is concerned. Har Sinai is chosen because it is the quintessential “nowhere” (an idea echoed in Hazal). It is chosen because its holiness is due exclusively to the revelation which will take place there. What makes it so holy is that it is where Bnei Yisrael receive their mission -- the Torah -- just as Moshe receives his mission there and Yehoshua receives his mission outside Yeriho. It is also no accident that at the time of the revelation, Bnei Yisrael are commanded to stay away from Har Sinai because is too holy to tread upon. Hashem warns Moshe repeatedly that anyone who steps on the mountain will die. Once again, the reason the ground is sanctified is because the revelation by Hashem of a mission of national significance is what sanctifies a place.

This would also explain why these places of revelation are holy only *during* the actual revelation itself, not afterward. Hashem explicitly tells Moshe that once Ma’amad Har Sinai (the revelation of the Torah) is completed, the people may ascend the mountain; only during the revelation are they prohibited to ascend. This confirms that these places are not inherently holy, and are sanctified only while the special divine presence is there. Similarly, we never hear of a place near Yeriho which has any special permanent significance; there is no warning in Tanakh about not walking there. The place of Yehoshua’s revelation was holy only during the giving-over of his mission.

As we know, Moshe finally packs up his family and heads from Yitro’s home in Midyan back to Egypt. Somewhere on the road, a bizarre incident occurs: an angel of Hashem appears and tries to kill a member of Moshe’s family:

It happened, on the way, at a rest stop, that Hashem met him and wanted to kill him. Tzippora took a knife, cut off the foreskin of her son, threw it at his feet, and said, “You are a ‘hatan-damim’ to me.” He turned away from him, and then she said, “A ‘hatan-damim’ for the circumcised.”

Who does Hashem want to kill? Grammatically, it is ambiguous, and may refer to either Moshe or his son. Why does Hashem want to kill anyone? Why does circumcising Eliezer (Moshe and Tzippora’s son) ward off Hashem’s anger? And what does this story have to do with anything?

In order to understand what is going on here, we have to move back a few pesukim:

Hashem said to Moshe, “As you go to return to Egypt, see that you perform before Paro all of the wonders which I have placed in your hand; I will harden his heart, and he will not send out the nation. You shall say to Paro, ‘So says Hashem: ‘My FIRST-BORN SON is Israel. I have said to you, ‘Send forth MY SON, so he may serve Me,’ but you have refused to send him. I will [therefore] kill your FIRSTBORN SON!””

Hashem’s firstborn is Bnei Yisrael; Moshe is to threaten Paro that if Paro does not release Hashem’s firstborn, Hashem will kill Paro’s firstborn. Right after this, Hashem tries to kill *Moshe’s* firstborn! But why? To answer, we must follow through on the reference to the plague of the firstborn which will strike Egypt after all the other plagues. Looking ahead to then, Hashem has decided to carry out the threat He makes here -- He decides to kill the firstborn of Egypt because Egypt refuses to release His firstborn. At that time, Moshe is commanded by Hashem to tell Bnei Yisrael that if they want their own firstborn sons not to be struck down by the pl, they must paint blood on their doorposts to identify their houses as Jewish houses. This blood is to come from the Korban Pesah, the sacrifice that Bnei Yisraeare commanded to offer on the afternoon before they are to be redeemed from Egypt.

The same thing happens here! Just after Hashem threatens to kill the firstborn of Egypt, Hashem’s angel comes and tries to kill Moshe’s firstborn. Tzippora suddenly realizes that she and Moshe have done nothing to show that this child is a Jewish child. Just as the houses must be marked (with blood) to show that they are Jewish houses, this child must be marked (with blood) to show that he is a Jewish child.

Perhaps the reason why blood is necessary in both cases -- in this case, the blood of the child, and later on, the blood of the sacrifice -- is as a form of self-sacrifice. The Ramban says that one reason we offer sacrifices is because we are offering something we own to be sacrificed in place of ourselves. We are, on a certain level, offering ourselves. The same theme may be present in circumcision: shedding a few drops of blood symbolizes our total devotion to Hashem, to the degree that we are willing to be “moser nefesh” (sacrifice our lives) for His sake. In order to deserve to be saved from the destroying angel, Moshe’s son, in this story, and the Jewish firstborn sons, later on, must bear a sign of their complete dedication to Hashem.

Perhaps one other level of meaning here is that in order to be saved, we must do something to “deserve” it. One reason why the Jews may be commanded to bring the Pesah sacrifice is so that Hashem can give them “credit” for their obedience. The first-born sons, who at this time serve as “kohanim,” priests, are key players in the bringing of the sacrifice. Their participation in this mitzvah, and the painting of the symbol of this good deed -- the blood of the sacrifice -- on the doorposts of their houses, merits them salvation. The same is true for Moshe’s son: in order to escape the fate with which Hashem has just threatened Egypt, the family must perform a mitzvah with this son. The opportunity most readily available is an act which was commanded to Avraham long ago: circumcision. Tzippora thinks quickly and saves her son by performing this mitzvah.

This structure -- that the plagues of Egypt often have a precursor in earlier events -- is a theme we will explore more fully next week.

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