Commentary by Rabbi Ephraim Nisenbaum
According to the tradition, Moshe received all the 613 mitzvos with their details at Mount Sinai. This week’s portion discusses many of the civil and tort laws given at Sinai. The Jew’s social obligations are not based merely on human intellect or socially accepted norms which change according to the whims of time. They originate instead, from an objective, eternal source- the Creator of all mankind.
Furthermore, an ethical standard with a Divine origin will go beyond what one might expect from a socially accepted standard.
Several examples can be seen in the portion. When a person steals an object from his friend, he is obligated to pay double the value. If he steals an ox or a sheep, and sells or slaughters the animal, he must pay five times the value for the ox and four times the value for the sheep. The reason for the steeper penalty is because oxen and sheep were the mainstay of most people’s livelihood, and their theft is considered as destroying a family’s source of sustenance.
The Talmud explains the difference between stealing an ox and a sheep, because the sheep has to be carried home on one’s shoulders, which creates more embarrassment. To compensate for the added shame, he is charged a lower fine. Although the thief brought the shame upon himself by stealing, nevertheless he is still a human being and his disgrace must be taken into consideration. This is the Torah’s idea of sensitivity.
Showing proper respect to one’s parents is also emphasized. Wounding one’s parent is considered a capital offense. Even cursing one’s parents is considered a capital offense. The death penalty for cursing, however, is a more painful death than that for wounding. Normal logic would dictate that physical harm is more severe than emotional harm. The Torah does not agree. Harm caused by the tongue can be much greater and far-reaching than that caused by one’s hands, and this is reflected in the punishment.
Another example may be seen from the measures the Torah takes if one’s animal kills another human being. The animal itself must be put to death, and no pleasure may be derived from its carcass. Although obviously the animal cannot be held responsible for its actions, it must be killed to emphasize the sanctity of human life. A beast that has caused the loss of human life cannot be allowed to live.
The common theme through many of these laws is the unique sensitivity the Torah tries to train the Jew to show towards his fellow human being.
“…and he shall provide for his healing ...” (Ex. 21:19)
A sick man came to the Chazon Ish and confided that his doctor had given up hope of his illness. The sage suggested the man see another doctor. He explained that a doctor’s success in curing a patient is not necessarily related to his expertise. Rather, there is a Heavenly decree that a certain doctor will cure an individual, and that decree causes the success. Thus, if one doctor’s treatment is unsuccessful, there may still be a decree that another doctor’s treatment will have greater success. The Chozeh of Lublin once said similarly, that a doctor was only granted permission to cure the sick– not to decide whether or not they are beyond help.
Did You Know...
Although the Torah is quite emphatic about the importance of being truthful, there are certain circumstances where the truth may be exaggerated or even bent. It is permitted to exaggerate a little in the praises of the deceased in a eulogy, or in the praises of a young man or woman for the purpose of marriage. Because this is an accepted practice nobody is really fooled and it is not considered to be lying.
Similarly, in the course of business, a merchant may ask a higher-than-intended price, in order to encourage a buyer to bargain with him. He may even say that he will not take less than a certain price, knowing that he really would take less. Because this is an accepted practice, it is understood that the seller’s words were not intended literally, and it is not considered to be dishonest.
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February 23, 2006
February 16, 2006
Grandma's Lesson for Life
by Rabbi Ephraim Nisenbaum
A hard-earned lesson about the purpose of life comes suddenly full circle
One of my fondest childhood memories is visiting my grandparents' home. My father would bring my brother and me every Friday afternoon. Grandma would hover over us anxiously, feeding us her famous potato kugel, chocolate chip cookies, and ginger ale, all the while peppering us with questions and advice. Growing up among friends, most of whom had lost their grandparents in the Holocaust long before they were born, I felt very fortunate to enjoy the loving affection of doting grandparents.
Years passed and I grew up, married, and had children of my own. My grandparents' health began to fail. Grandma suffered from dementia and eventually she had to be put into a nursing facility where she spent the last seven years of her life. She seemed totally incoherent her last few years, incapable of even eating normally.
Visiting her was depressing; she was but a shadow of the vibrant, busy grandmother I had known and loved. I didn't even have the satisfaction of knowing whether my visits made any difference to her. I dutifully brought my children to visit the grandma they never really knew, but as time went on, the visits became shorter and less frequent.
My father would visit Grandma every single day. A loyal and loving son, he made sure she was well taken care of, and that she was given the proper nourishment and medication by the nurses. He also made sure she looked presentable, though I couldn't imagine anyone really knowing the difference. The nurses all knew my father would be there each day, gently checking on them, and they would treat Grandma more carefully than they would some of the other residents.
My father would often take my young children to visit their Eltere Bubby, their great-grandmother. They would return with enthusiastic reports, shouting with glee, "We saw Zaidy put make-up on Eltere Bubby's face!"
I felt guilty not sharing my children's enthusiasm for visiting my grandmother, but I justified my behavior that they didn't remember her like I had, and it wasn't as depressing for them to see her as it was for me. In truth, I just didn't feel the same sense of responsibility for Grandma's well being that my father did, and I couldn't muster up that same tender affection my father showed his mother that had such an impact on my own children. I felt like I had already lost my grandmother several years earlier.
When Grandma passed away I was asked to eulogize her at the funeral. I loved my grandmother so much and I really wanted to express that love with the right words, but it was difficult planning what to say. The freshest memories in my mind of the past seven years were those of an incapacitated woman for which there was there not much to say. Frustrated, I wondered why God would prolong a life that seemed to have so little meaning to it. What purpose could there be to a life that is unable to perform any mitzvot [commandments] whatsoever?
But then it hit me. Who were we to decide what constitutes a purposeful life? Even after my grandmother was no longer able to care for herself, she had still provided her family with a model for the fulfillment of a most important mitzvah, honoring one's parent. My children were able to see their grandfather fulfilling his obligations to his mother with care and concern, although she may not even have known what was being done for her. Isn't that purpose too? After all, the primary function of a parent is to be an educator for his or her children. Sometimes educating may be more passive than it is active, but that may very well be the will of God for a specific individual in a specific time and place.
Belatedly, I realized that as difficult as the past seven years had been, we were very fortunate to have had Grandma playing her role as matriarch of our family. Whether she realized it or not, she afforded us a valuable experience. Ultimately, I have no doubt that Grandma, too, benefited from her role as a teacher for the family. That was her mitzvah.
Sudden Turn of Events
Several years passed and my wife and I were blessed with another daughter. Our joy was marred when shortly after her birth the doctor quietly informed us that the baby showed certain signs characteristic of Down Syndrome. Although we would not know the diagnosis for certain until test results returned, the initial feelings of fear and despair set in right away.
My wife and I looked at each other helplessly. The relatively smooth births of our other children, had not prepared us for this sudden turn of events. "How am I supposed to feel?" my wife asked, somewhat bewilderedly. "Is this really a simcha? We don't even know if the baby will ever be able to function properly. I don't know if I could handle this."
I tried to reassure her that many people with Down Syndrome are very high functioning, and with God's help, our daughter could be as well. But silently, I also wondered, "What if she won't be able to function properly? Of course everything comes from the Almighty, but what purpose could there be in a life unable to observe mitzvot? Is that not the purpose of our existence?"
Somehow, the question seemed to strike a familiar chord, though I wasn't really sure why. Then another familiar thought crossed my mind: Who were we to decide what constitutes a purposeful life?
I suddenly thought about Grandma who had taught us there can be purpose to life, any life, even when one is unable to perform mitzvot like everyone else. God, in His great wisdom, has a plan and a mission for every person, whether or not he or she is capable of realizing it.
A demented grandmother may fulfill her purpose by affording her family opportunities for mitzvot, and a challenged child can also fulfill her purpose in the same way, in addition to performing her own special mitzvot. Every child provides her parents with opportunities to practice love and kindness, and all the more so a special needs child. Of course, every parent would love to enjoy the nachas and joy a healthy child brings to his or her parents, but that is only secondary to the primary purpose in raising children, that of fulfilling the will of the Creator.
As I looked at our tiny, new daughter, I felt a wave of trust and encouragement wash over me. Hopefully, we would yet enjoy many accomplishments and much nachas from our daughter. But Grandma had already showed us that quality and purpose in life are far too valuable to be measured by accomplishments alone.
A hard-earned lesson about the purpose of life comes suddenly full circle
One of my fondest childhood memories is visiting my grandparents' home. My father would bring my brother and me every Friday afternoon. Grandma would hover over us anxiously, feeding us her famous potato kugel, chocolate chip cookies, and ginger ale, all the while peppering us with questions and advice. Growing up among friends, most of whom had lost their grandparents in the Holocaust long before they were born, I felt very fortunate to enjoy the loving affection of doting grandparents.
Years passed and I grew up, married, and had children of my own. My grandparents' health began to fail. Grandma suffered from dementia and eventually she had to be put into a nursing facility where she spent the last seven years of her life. She seemed totally incoherent her last few years, incapable of even eating normally.
Visiting her was depressing; she was but a shadow of the vibrant, busy grandmother I had known and loved. I didn't even have the satisfaction of knowing whether my visits made any difference to her. I dutifully brought my children to visit the grandma they never really knew, but as time went on, the visits became shorter and less frequent.
My father would visit Grandma every single day. A loyal and loving son, he made sure she was well taken care of, and that she was given the proper nourishment and medication by the nurses. He also made sure she looked presentable, though I couldn't imagine anyone really knowing the difference. The nurses all knew my father would be there each day, gently checking on them, and they would treat Grandma more carefully than they would some of the other residents.
My father would often take my young children to visit their Eltere Bubby, their great-grandmother. They would return with enthusiastic reports, shouting with glee, "We saw Zaidy put make-up on Eltere Bubby's face!"
I felt guilty not sharing my children's enthusiasm for visiting my grandmother, but I justified my behavior that they didn't remember her like I had, and it wasn't as depressing for them to see her as it was for me. In truth, I just didn't feel the same sense of responsibility for Grandma's well being that my father did, and I couldn't muster up that same tender affection my father showed his mother that had such an impact on my own children. I felt like I had already lost my grandmother several years earlier.
When Grandma passed away I was asked to eulogize her at the funeral. I loved my grandmother so much and I really wanted to express that love with the right words, but it was difficult planning what to say. The freshest memories in my mind of the past seven years were those of an incapacitated woman for which there was there not much to say. Frustrated, I wondered why God would prolong a life that seemed to have so little meaning to it. What purpose could there be to a life that is unable to perform any mitzvot [commandments] whatsoever?
But then it hit me. Who were we to decide what constitutes a purposeful life? Even after my grandmother was no longer able to care for herself, she had still provided her family with a model for the fulfillment of a most important mitzvah, honoring one's parent. My children were able to see their grandfather fulfilling his obligations to his mother with care and concern, although she may not even have known what was being done for her. Isn't that purpose too? After all, the primary function of a parent is to be an educator for his or her children. Sometimes educating may be more passive than it is active, but that may very well be the will of God for a specific individual in a specific time and place.
Belatedly, I realized that as difficult as the past seven years had been, we were very fortunate to have had Grandma playing her role as matriarch of our family. Whether she realized it or not, she afforded us a valuable experience. Ultimately, I have no doubt that Grandma, too, benefited from her role as a teacher for the family. That was her mitzvah.
Sudden Turn of Events
Several years passed and my wife and I were blessed with another daughter. Our joy was marred when shortly after her birth the doctor quietly informed us that the baby showed certain signs characteristic of Down Syndrome. Although we would not know the diagnosis for certain until test results returned, the initial feelings of fear and despair set in right away.
My wife and I looked at each other helplessly. The relatively smooth births of our other children, had not prepared us for this sudden turn of events. "How am I supposed to feel?" my wife asked, somewhat bewilderedly. "Is this really a simcha? We don't even know if the baby will ever be able to function properly. I don't know if I could handle this."
I tried to reassure her that many people with Down Syndrome are very high functioning, and with God's help, our daughter could be as well. But silently, I also wondered, "What if she won't be able to function properly? Of course everything comes from the Almighty, but what purpose could there be in a life unable to observe mitzvot? Is that not the purpose of our existence?"
Somehow, the question seemed to strike a familiar chord, though I wasn't really sure why. Then another familiar thought crossed my mind: Who were we to decide what constitutes a purposeful life?
I suddenly thought about Grandma who had taught us there can be purpose to life, any life, even when one is unable to perform mitzvot like everyone else. God, in His great wisdom, has a plan and a mission for every person, whether or not he or she is capable of realizing it.
A demented grandmother may fulfill her purpose by affording her family opportunities for mitzvot, and a challenged child can also fulfill her purpose in the same way, in addition to performing her own special mitzvot. Every child provides her parents with opportunities to practice love and kindness, and all the more so a special needs child. Of course, every parent would love to enjoy the nachas and joy a healthy child brings to his or her parents, but that is only secondary to the primary purpose in raising children, that of fulfilling the will of the Creator.
As I looked at our tiny, new daughter, I felt a wave of trust and encouragement wash over me. Hopefully, we would yet enjoy many accomplishments and much nachas from our daughter. But Grandma had already showed us that quality and purpose in life are far too valuable to be measured by accomplishments alone.
Parshas Yisro 5766
Commentary by Rabbi Ephraim Nisenbaum
Yisro, Moshe’s father-in-law, was a priest in Midian. He was a seeker of truth, and had experimented with all the known religions of the time. Like all the other nations of the time, he too heard about all the wonders G-d had performed for the Jewish people when they left Egypt. He was most impressed with the precision of G-d’s retribution towards the Egyptians, and how they had been repaid measure for measure for all their sins. However, unlike the other nations, he decided to act upon his inspiration and join the Jewish people.
Shortly thereafter, Yisro saw the people waiting to hear Moshe’s rulings and judgment, from early morning until night. Yisro felt it was not respectful for the people to have to wait all day to have their questions answered. Furthermore, he was concerned that Moshe would get worn out. He suggested to Moshe that they set up a different system, where there would be lower courts trained, where people could present their minor disputes and queries. Moshe heeded his father-in-law’s advice.
This was a lesson in truth, that even the advice of a newcomer to the community, could be accepted by the leader without any reservations. An honest criticism or suggestion must be listened to, regardless of its source. The Talmud comments that a wise person is one who learns from everybody.
This portion also describes the Revelation at Sinai. After G-d offered the all nations His Torah, only the Jewish people answered in unison “We will do and we will hear.” They agreed to accept all of G-d’s commandments, even before hearing what they were. This act of faith on their part earned the Jewish people an eternal status of chosenness.
The world came to a standstill as G-d communicated His commandments to the people. The Rabbis say that only the first two commandments were heard directly from G-d. After the first two, the nation was frightened they would not be able to bear hearing the rest directly from G-d, and Moshe relayed the remaining commandments to them.
After the Revelation, Moshe climbed to the top of the mountain for forty days where G-d taught him the rest of the commandments and all their details.
Although the Ten Commandments were only a sampling of the 613 mitzvos in the Torah, the commentaries explain that all the commandments are alluded to in these ten. Besides the commandments themselves, though, the experience of Revelation at Mount Sinai left an indelible mark upon World History.
"Do not covet the house of your neighbor." (Ex. 20:14)
Ibn Ezra asks how is it possible to control one’s emotions and overcome jealousy. He explains with an example, that a peasant would never covet the king’s daughter as a wife. He knows that the princess was not intended for a peasant, and that it is outside the realm of possibility. Similarly a person should realize that another person’s property was not intended for him, and is outside the realm of possibility, so to say.
Rav Meir Chodosh would cite the example a little differently. The prince does not covet the peasant’s daughter either, because her lifestyle is too coarse for him and that he is too refined for her. Similarly, a person should realize that his spiritual nature is too refined to covet material possessions, and that he should be satisfied with what he has.
Did You Know...
A person is obligated to honor his or her parents-in-law, although not to the same extent that one is obligated towards one’s own parents. This obligation includes such things as rising in their honor and visiting them occasionally. If one’s parents-in-law are needy and he is capable, he is obligated to assist them financially.
Although the laws of mourning are primarily applicable to one’s closest relatives (parents, spouse, siblings, and children), if one’s parents-in-law pass away, some of the laws also apply, such as not attending a wedding or other joyous occasion during the shiva (the seven days of mourning following burial).
Yisro, Moshe’s father-in-law, was a priest in Midian. He was a seeker of truth, and had experimented with all the known religions of the time. Like all the other nations of the time, he too heard about all the wonders G-d had performed for the Jewish people when they left Egypt. He was most impressed with the precision of G-d’s retribution towards the Egyptians, and how they had been repaid measure for measure for all their sins. However, unlike the other nations, he decided to act upon his inspiration and join the Jewish people.
Shortly thereafter, Yisro saw the people waiting to hear Moshe’s rulings and judgment, from early morning until night. Yisro felt it was not respectful for the people to have to wait all day to have their questions answered. Furthermore, he was concerned that Moshe would get worn out. He suggested to Moshe that they set up a different system, where there would be lower courts trained, where people could present their minor disputes and queries. Moshe heeded his father-in-law’s advice.
This was a lesson in truth, that even the advice of a newcomer to the community, could be accepted by the leader without any reservations. An honest criticism or suggestion must be listened to, regardless of its source. The Talmud comments that a wise person is one who learns from everybody.
This portion also describes the Revelation at Sinai. After G-d offered the all nations His Torah, only the Jewish people answered in unison “We will do and we will hear.” They agreed to accept all of G-d’s commandments, even before hearing what they were. This act of faith on their part earned the Jewish people an eternal status of chosenness.
The world came to a standstill as G-d communicated His commandments to the people. The Rabbis say that only the first two commandments were heard directly from G-d. After the first two, the nation was frightened they would not be able to bear hearing the rest directly from G-d, and Moshe relayed the remaining commandments to them.
After the Revelation, Moshe climbed to the top of the mountain for forty days where G-d taught him the rest of the commandments and all their details.
Although the Ten Commandments were only a sampling of the 613 mitzvos in the Torah, the commentaries explain that all the commandments are alluded to in these ten. Besides the commandments themselves, though, the experience of Revelation at Mount Sinai left an indelible mark upon World History.
"Do not covet the house of your neighbor." (Ex. 20:14)
Ibn Ezra asks how is it possible to control one’s emotions and overcome jealousy. He explains with an example, that a peasant would never covet the king’s daughter as a wife. He knows that the princess was not intended for a peasant, and that it is outside the realm of possibility. Similarly a person should realize that another person’s property was not intended for him, and is outside the realm of possibility, so to say.
Rav Meir Chodosh would cite the example a little differently. The prince does not covet the peasant’s daughter either, because her lifestyle is too coarse for him and that he is too refined for her. Similarly, a person should realize that his spiritual nature is too refined to covet material possessions, and that he should be satisfied with what he has.
Did You Know...
A person is obligated to honor his or her parents-in-law, although not to the same extent that one is obligated towards one’s own parents. This obligation includes such things as rising in their honor and visiting them occasionally. If one’s parents-in-law are needy and he is capable, he is obligated to assist them financially.
Although the laws of mourning are primarily applicable to one’s closest relatives (parents, spouse, siblings, and children), if one’s parents-in-law pass away, some of the laws also apply, such as not attending a wedding or other joyous occasion during the shiva (the seven days of mourning following burial).
February 9, 2006
Parshas Beshalach 5766
Commentary by Rabbi Ephraim Nisenbaum
Although Pharaoh had chased the Jewish people out of Egypt, his intentions were only that they leave for three days to offer sacrifices to G-d, and then return to slavery. This, however, was not the intention of G-d. As such, the Jews were by no means safe yet.
G-d had another concern too. Were the people to leave by a route that was within easy access of Egypt, they might be tempted to return at the first sign of difficulty. For this reason He led them on a roundabout path through the Sinai Desert, where it would be difficult for them to return to Egypt.
The nation encamped by the Red Sea. Pharaoh realized that the Jews were not returning, and began to pursue the nation, overtaking them at the sea. The people found themselves in a terrifying situation. The Red Sea spanned before them, a dangerous wilderness surrounded them, and the Egyptian armies were bearing down on them from the rear. G-d instructed Moshe to lead the people into the sea. The Jews trusted in G-d and marched directly into the Sea. The sea split before them and the seabed hardened for them. The Midrash describes how the sea actually divided into twelve transparent walls. Each tribe crossed through its own section on dry land, in the midst of the water. Many other miracles also occurred at that time.
The Egyptians followed the Jews straight into the sea, at which point the water returned to its original state. The Egyptian soldiers all drowned in the sea.
The people recognized G-d’s great miracle, and they broke into a song of praise. The Talmud relates that at that time, the simplest Jew had a revelation of G-d that would not be experienced by the greatest prophets in later times. The song, called Oz Yashir, was later incorporated into the daily prayers.
Shortly after their ascent from the sea, the Jews were attacked by the nation of Amalek. Although all of the other nations were in awe of the miracles at the sea, Amalek remained unmoved. When Moshe lifted his hands towards heaven, the Jews’ faith in G-d was strengthened and they were victorious in battle. Because of Amalek’s brazen antagonism towards G-d, the Jews were commanded to wipe out the memory of Amalek.
“They believed in G-d and in His servant Moshe.” (Ex.14:31)
The Steipler Rav comments that one’s belief in G-d is commensurate to his faith in the Sages. Historically, the movements that led people away from G-d all began with a lack of faith in, and a derision of, the Sages. A childless woman once came to Rav Moshe Feinstein for a blessing for children. Rav Moshe sadly told her that he couldn’t help her. The distraught woman insisted that the Rav’s blessing would indeed help her, and Rav Moshe offered his blessing. Later he said that he was sure she would have a child, not so much because of blessing but because of her sincere faith in the Sages. A year later the woman was blessed with a child.
Did You Know...
One may not trap an animal on Shabbos. One may put an animal which does not try to escape into its pen and close the gate, since that is not really trapping it. An animal that will escape, but will generally return at night, such as a dog, may not be caught unless there is concern of loss or suffering to the animal if it is not caught on Shabbos. Likewise, one may not close the door of a birdcage, even of a domestic bird, unless there is concern that the bird may cause damage. One may not trap an insect on Shabbos unless there is concern that it might sting somebody.
Although Pharaoh had chased the Jewish people out of Egypt, his intentions were only that they leave for three days to offer sacrifices to G-d, and then return to slavery. This, however, was not the intention of G-d. As such, the Jews were by no means safe yet.
G-d had another concern too. Were the people to leave by a route that was within easy access of Egypt, they might be tempted to return at the first sign of difficulty. For this reason He led them on a roundabout path through the Sinai Desert, where it would be difficult for them to return to Egypt.
The nation encamped by the Red Sea. Pharaoh realized that the Jews were not returning, and began to pursue the nation, overtaking them at the sea. The people found themselves in a terrifying situation. The Red Sea spanned before them, a dangerous wilderness surrounded them, and the Egyptian armies were bearing down on them from the rear. G-d instructed Moshe to lead the people into the sea. The Jews trusted in G-d and marched directly into the Sea. The sea split before them and the seabed hardened for them. The Midrash describes how the sea actually divided into twelve transparent walls. Each tribe crossed through its own section on dry land, in the midst of the water. Many other miracles also occurred at that time.
The Egyptians followed the Jews straight into the sea, at which point the water returned to its original state. The Egyptian soldiers all drowned in the sea.
The people recognized G-d’s great miracle, and they broke into a song of praise. The Talmud relates that at that time, the simplest Jew had a revelation of G-d that would not be experienced by the greatest prophets in later times. The song, called Oz Yashir, was later incorporated into the daily prayers.
Shortly after their ascent from the sea, the Jews were attacked by the nation of Amalek. Although all of the other nations were in awe of the miracles at the sea, Amalek remained unmoved. When Moshe lifted his hands towards heaven, the Jews’ faith in G-d was strengthened and they were victorious in battle. Because of Amalek’s brazen antagonism towards G-d, the Jews were commanded to wipe out the memory of Amalek.
“They believed in G-d and in His servant Moshe.” (Ex.14:31)
The Steipler Rav comments that one’s belief in G-d is commensurate to his faith in the Sages. Historically, the movements that led people away from G-d all began with a lack of faith in, and a derision of, the Sages. A childless woman once came to Rav Moshe Feinstein for a blessing for children. Rav Moshe sadly told her that he couldn’t help her. The distraught woman insisted that the Rav’s blessing would indeed help her, and Rav Moshe offered his blessing. Later he said that he was sure she would have a child, not so much because of blessing but because of her sincere faith in the Sages. A year later the woman was blessed with a child.
Did You Know...
One may not trap an animal on Shabbos. One may put an animal which does not try to escape into its pen and close the gate, since that is not really trapping it. An animal that will escape, but will generally return at night, such as a dog, may not be caught unless there is concern of loss or suffering to the animal if it is not caught on Shabbos. Likewise, one may not close the door of a birdcage, even of a domestic bird, unless there is concern that the bird may cause damage. One may not trap an insect on Shabbos unless there is concern that it might sting somebody.
February 2, 2006
Parshas Bo 5766
Commentary by Rabbi Ephraim Nisenbaum
The last three of the ten plagues that were inflicted upon the Egyptians were locusts, darkness and the Plague of the Firstborn.
The locust destroyed any vegetation in Egypt that had survived the previous plague of hail. The plague of darkness came in two stages. The first three days of the plague brought pitch-black darkness to the Egyptians, where they could not see anything at all. During the following three days, the darkness intensified so much that the Egyptians were actually frozen into position, unable to move. The Jews, however, had light and were able to move about freely.
The last plague was the Plague of the Firstborn, where every Egyptian firstborn child and animal died at midnight. This was the first time that Pharaoh felt his own life in danger, and he finally let the Jews go free.
The Jews were instructed to sacrifice a lamb, the god of the Egyptian nation, for the Paschal sacrifice. Slaughtering their taskmasters’ god in front of their eyes without fear of repercussion instilled a sense of fearlessness and pride in the Jews. Each family had their own sacrifice to be eaten together.
The people were ordered to take some of the blood from the sacrifice, and smear it on their doorposts. With this show of solidarity and trust, the Jews would be protected from the Plague of the Firstborn.
The people were also given the mitzvah of sanctifying the new moon. The court would sanctify the beginning of each month after witnessing the new moon. Time itself would thus be elevated into something holy. The first month to be sanctified was Nissan, the month of the exodus from Egypt. This represents the birth of the Jewish nation, and marks the beginning of the Jewish year. (Although Rosh Hashana marks the anniversary of Creation, the months are counted from Nissan, the month of the Exodus.)
Because of the salvation of the firstborn Jews in Egypt, there is a special holiness associated with the firstborn. Thus, the firstborn of the flocks was given to the kohain, and the firstborn of the humans is redeemed to the kohain.
These are the laws of the Pesach offering… you shall not break a bone in it…. (Exod. 12:43-45)
In explanation of this mitzvah, the Sefer HaChinuch suggests that a person is molded more by his actions than he is by ideas. By eating the offering with dignity, without breaking bones, a person is influenced to behave in a more dignified manner.
That is the reason it is important to dress nicely on Shabbos and holidays, because even if one does not feel the festivity of Shabbos, by dressing the part he will eventually feel it.
Rabbi Moshe Lieber sees an allusion to this in the tefillin. The arm tefillin are wrapped before the head tefillin are donned. Similarly, the arm tefillin remain in place until after the head tefillin are removed. Thus, the head tefillin, representing wisdom, are never worn without the arm tefillin, representing action. Ideas and wisdom must always be accompanied by action, otherwise they are not worth too much.
Did You Know…
One should not procrastinate performing any mitzvah; rather he should do it as soon as he is able to. For this reason one should finish building his succah shortly after Yom Kippur, so as not to push off the mitzvah until last minute.
Similarly, although one dons the tallis before wrapping his tefillin, if he has no tallis now, he should first wrap the tefillin and not wait until he gets a tallis before wrapping the tefillin.
There is a difference of opinion whether one may wait to perform a mitzvah if by waiting he can perform the mitzvah in a nicer manner. An example of this is circumcision. Some authorities say it should be done first thing in the morning, even if many family members and friends cannot attend, while others permit delaying it until later in the day in order to celebrate in a more respectable manner.
The last three of the ten plagues that were inflicted upon the Egyptians were locusts, darkness and the Plague of the Firstborn.
The locust destroyed any vegetation in Egypt that had survived the previous plague of hail. The plague of darkness came in two stages. The first three days of the plague brought pitch-black darkness to the Egyptians, where they could not see anything at all. During the following three days, the darkness intensified so much that the Egyptians were actually frozen into position, unable to move. The Jews, however, had light and were able to move about freely.
The last plague was the Plague of the Firstborn, where every Egyptian firstborn child and animal died at midnight. This was the first time that Pharaoh felt his own life in danger, and he finally let the Jews go free.
The Jews were instructed to sacrifice a lamb, the god of the Egyptian nation, for the Paschal sacrifice. Slaughtering their taskmasters’ god in front of their eyes without fear of repercussion instilled a sense of fearlessness and pride in the Jews. Each family had their own sacrifice to be eaten together.
The people were ordered to take some of the blood from the sacrifice, and smear it on their doorposts. With this show of solidarity and trust, the Jews would be protected from the Plague of the Firstborn.
The people were also given the mitzvah of sanctifying the new moon. The court would sanctify the beginning of each month after witnessing the new moon. Time itself would thus be elevated into something holy. The first month to be sanctified was Nissan, the month of the exodus from Egypt. This represents the birth of the Jewish nation, and marks the beginning of the Jewish year. (Although Rosh Hashana marks the anniversary of Creation, the months are counted from Nissan, the month of the Exodus.)
Because of the salvation of the firstborn Jews in Egypt, there is a special holiness associated with the firstborn. Thus, the firstborn of the flocks was given to the kohain, and the firstborn of the humans is redeemed to the kohain.
These are the laws of the Pesach offering… you shall not break a bone in it…. (Exod. 12:43-45)
In explanation of this mitzvah, the Sefer HaChinuch suggests that a person is molded more by his actions than he is by ideas. By eating the offering with dignity, without breaking bones, a person is influenced to behave in a more dignified manner.
That is the reason it is important to dress nicely on Shabbos and holidays, because even if one does not feel the festivity of Shabbos, by dressing the part he will eventually feel it.
Rabbi Moshe Lieber sees an allusion to this in the tefillin. The arm tefillin are wrapped before the head tefillin are donned. Similarly, the arm tefillin remain in place until after the head tefillin are removed. Thus, the head tefillin, representing wisdom, are never worn without the arm tefillin, representing action. Ideas and wisdom must always be accompanied by action, otherwise they are not worth too much.
Did You Know…
One should not procrastinate performing any mitzvah; rather he should do it as soon as he is able to. For this reason one should finish building his succah shortly after Yom Kippur, so as not to push off the mitzvah until last minute.
Similarly, although one dons the tallis before wrapping his tefillin, if he has no tallis now, he should first wrap the tefillin and not wait until he gets a tallis before wrapping the tefillin.
There is a difference of opinion whether one may wait to perform a mitzvah if by waiting he can perform the mitzvah in a nicer manner. An example of this is circumcision. Some authorities say it should be done first thing in the morning, even if many family members and friends cannot attend, while others permit delaying it until later in the day in order to celebrate in a more respectable manner.
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