Shemot

With God's help we are beginning to read the second book of Moshe, the second book of the Torah. In Hebrew it is called Shemot, after the first significant word of the book, which means Names. In Russian it is called, in accordance with its content, Exodus. This book tells, among other things, about the miraculous deliverance of the people of Israel from Egyptian captivity. And may the study of this book become a blessing for each of us for liberation from some dependence of our own, from some unfreedom of our own, so that each one comes out of his own captivity, as the Most High sees fit for him.

The first four verses list, in fact, the 12 sons of Yaakov, each of whom came to Egypt together with his large family, with his wife, with children, some with grandchildren.

We are reminded of a brief summary of the previous chapters. It is important that all the action moves to Egypt, the people of Israel will be formed in Egypt.

All those who came with Yaakov to Egypt, and possibly all those Egyptians who lived then, all died, the generation changed.

The Torah tells us: despite the fact that the fathers died (those Fathers who were the founders of the people and who received the blessings), the people of Israel multiplied. Here, in verse 7, we again encounter the verb yishretzú. The word shéretz means insect, midge, creeping vermin, and the word lishrótz can mean to swarm, began to swarm. This word has not very good, not very kind connotations. Well, of course, it is something unkind that swarms, and the word shéretz itself is connected with insects, with crawling or some kind of squirming vermin. All of this is unpleasant sometimes even on a tactile level. The commentators and the midrashim say that the land of Egypt “began swarming with Jews,” Jews penetrated all layers of Egyptian society, they even wrote Egyptian folk songs: from “the morning paints with tender light the walls of the city of Memphis” to “Pharaoh and Mao are listening to us” and so on. Wherever you turn, there were Jews everywhere. And the midrashim say, again, that the Jews became too “Egyptianized,” began to take over Egypt in the cultural sense. And the words meód meód (very, very), are understood to mean that economically, too, the Jews became very strong in Egypt. And no wonder, because in fact the Jews and the priests remained the only free part of the population. We observe a similar phenomenon: in some strange way money concentrates in the hands of Jews throughout all of world history. Throughout all of world history other Jews pay for the fact that some Jews concentrate money in their hands. In general, this is a complex problem of the relationship between Israel and the nations of the world, which already began back then in Egypt. But the essence of what the Torah tells us here – the Forefathers died, but the blessing remained on the people.

The word yakám (rose) is never used in relation to kings – so, at any rate, say the specialists in Hebrew grammar. This means that the king came to power by illegitimate means, that this was some other dynasty or, perhaps, someone who had no right to the throne.

There is a very interesting motif that runs through the whole Torah – it is the motif of knowledge. When Avraham asked the Most High: “How shall I know that I will inherit this land?” the Most High brought a sleep upon him and there, in fact, foretold to him that the people would go down to Egypt, and said: “With knowledge you shall know that your people will be a stranger, and I will bring him out.” Here – a remembrance of the Most High, of the fact that He knows us at all times.

So, the whole generation died. God remembers his people, the people multiplied, but with Pharaoh there is a snag: a new king arose who does not know Yosef. The earthly king does not know Yosef, but the Heavenly King knew Yosef and knows him still. The earthly king will later “stoop so low,” and we will see this, when he says: “I do not know God either.” How much of a dunno is this Egyptian “dunno” really? Let's solve a small math problem. Yosef died some 70 years after the people went down to Egypt, and 80 years of Moshe's life passed before the people came out from there. It turns out that the king arose at least 70 years after Yosef's death, that is, some 60 years passed between Yosef's death and Moshe's birth, and it was precisely in this time that the new king must have appeared. Not so many centuries, not so many millennia, not even so many decades passed for the king really not to know Yosef. Like anyone, even as an educated occupier, he could not have not known about the existence of Yosef. And what is meant here, most likely, is that he did not recognize the treaties concluded earlier with Yosef. That is, he did not recognize Yosef's contribution, did not recognize Yosef's role, did not recognize Yosef's participation in Egyptian life. What then did he see?

The expression ki-tikréna many translate as if war is declared on us, if we find ourselves at war (tikrénu). But it can also be understood as if a war should occur or some other trouble. The “fifth column” (the Jews), they are, naturally, our enemies, they will forget all the good which we did for them, they will join our enemies.

…will rise up from this land (ve'alá min-ha'áretz) can mean will rise up and leave us, will plunder us and leave us. The second option: will rise up from its low status of strangers, which this people does after all have in Egypt. There is also a third understanding, some commentators cite it too, who say that ve'alá min-ha'áretz means and we (the Egyptians) will leave this land, and Pharaoh is simply putting it so beautifully. There are such forms of Eastern speech, when one speaks allegorically (may it not be said of us). And here Pharaoh says: “… and will drive us out of here.” All the guilt of the Jews, everything he could accuse the Jews of, is that they exist, that they are more numerous, that there are more of them than of the Egyptians. And already for that reason, if there is a war, they will join the enemies, they will plunder us, they will drive us out – anything at all, only because there are more of them. Pharaoh has no reasons whatsoever not to love the Jews. Why does such a thing arise? Because he does not know Yosef, because with earthly kings knowledge is interrupted.

Here there is also such a literary device as the reader's preferenceiThe Russian literally says “the reader's preference”. From the context the author seems to mean the reader's advantage of knowing more than Pharaoh; the phrase is translated literally.. That is, we, you and I, have read the book of Bereshit, we remember it, we know that behind Yosef, behind his descendants stands the blessing of the Most High, that the Most High is also there. But Pharaoh does not know this, and this dunno-Pharaoh tries to wage a proxy war (a war by someone else's hands) against the Most High through Israel, without suspecting it himself. And all the guilt, everything he saw, everything Pharaoh saw in Israel – is that the Israelites are stronger, that there are more Israelites. No lack of loyalty, no hostility did Pharaoh see, for there was nothing of the kind. This is a carbon copy that the whole history of the relationship of the Jews with many other peoples repeated, where completely loyal Jews, who felt themselves to be “a thin ear of grain in a Russian field,” were nevertheless considered a “fifth column” and potential enemies.

And next – the implementation of Pharaoh's plan.

Saré missím or sará masú – this is a well-known Egyptian concept, it is a kind of personal tax inspector who constantly accompanies a person. This is not a one-time inspection that comes to a person, this is such a meticulous person who calculates all the taxes that you must pay, “the state truth that is always with you.” He was assigned to the heads of large regions, to big, major figures. And here they put him over Israel (apparently, not to every Israelite, of course, was such a thing attached), a special supervision was established over all Israelite activity.

The word miskenót comes from the root of the word sochén (to be an agent, a hireling of something). That is, Pharaoh built service cities. Apparently, these were garrison cities, warehouse cities, so to speak, “closed cities” (as in the Soviet Union), defense-industry cities of Egypt, and they were built with the taxes of the Jews. That is, the Jews were politely told that you are aliens here, you enjoy all the benefits of our Egyptian land, so please donate to the defense, buy bonds of the Egyptian state loan for the construction of the cities of Pitom and Ramses.

We know a lot about the city of Ramses. It is indeed a city on the border of the land of Goshen, where later, in the near future, the Egyptian capital will be moved. It is a place that was abandoned for a long time, and nobody except the Jews needed it. But suddenly (in Egyptian history) a dawn begins there, and they begin to build up the city there, to lay communications, to create infrastructure and so on. And all this, apparently, with Jewish money or with the use of Jewish labor (judging by the connection with the taxes, most likely with money after all).

The city of Pitom is known only on the basis of one of the manuscripts. A certain head of the city of Pitom writes a report to the capital of Egypt saying that he gave permission to certain people to enter Egypt. It was a border city on the border with Edom. Possibly refugees were kept there, some people seeking political asylum, potential guest workers and various others, before they entered Egypt.

So, they began to oppress the people of Israel, imposed taxes on it, possibly also imposed necessary labor on it, we will read more about this further on.

The word ye'annú (the root ani – this is to be poor) can mean tortured or made poor, or oppressed. There can be a different gradation of the strength of oppression in this verb, but le'annót in modern Hebrew is to torment, to oppress.

We read in verse 10 that Pharaoh started all this with the people pen-yirbé, so that it would not multiply, and here we read that the people ken yirbé, it did multiply and did blossom, despite all the oppression. Why? Because Pharaoh does not know Yosef, because he does not know how this world is arranged, and nothing works out for him: the more the Egyptians oppress the people of Israel, the more the Most High intervenes, gives protection, and the people flourishes. Thus the Most High displays his might.

Párech in the modern language is penal, hard labor, work from which the soul grows faint. The midrashim see in this such a beautiful play on words, if párech is pronounced as pe rách – a soft mouth. At first the Jews were told: “Well, come on, you are foreigners here, come on, you will work for us one day a week, or you will send some group of people to work for us.” And so gradually, one word leading to another, gradually making the conditions of the Jews' stay in Egypt harder, they enslaved them. The question often arises: “Why did you not leave, why did you not run away, why did you go like sheep to the slaughter?” Because this principle of pé rach (a soft mouth) was at work, which the sages noticed. Most likely, here, in the simple meaning (pshat) of the text, it is not there. What is meant is that, indeed, the Egyptians compelled the Jews to socially useful labor, and the Jews, being dependent on the Egyptian authorities, agreed to it. And this pé rach, this soft mouth as a technology of enslavement, as a technology of influence on the Jews, can be seen throughout all of Jewish history.

The Egyptians gave the Jews all the guest-worker work, all the hard work which they themselves did not want to do. Gradually the Jews ended up dependent, ended up in this hard work. But, apparently, this had no effect, the people of Israel continued to multiply. Among the Jews mortality was lower, life expectancy longer, fertility (the ability to conceive) higher, more women gave birth, and forcing the Jews into hard labor did not help Pharaoh. Pharaoh thought (so the commentators say) that perhaps after hard labor the Jews would not much feel like multiplying and reproducing, but no such luck: the Jews kept giving birth just as before. The commentators like to interpret that the use of six verbs, six words, when the Tanach tells about the multiplication of the Jews in Egypt, says that the women gave birth to sextuplets at a time. Ibn Ezra says: “I myself saw a woman who gave birth to quadruplets” – true, he says this a thousand years later. And doctors say that sextuplets are also possible. Perhaps the Jews did give birth to them, and there were multiple pregnancies, and they gave birth to many children. But what is meant here is that even simple statistics of such qualities as a woman's ability to give birth, children's ability to survive, life expectancy, say that nothing changed, despite the worsening of conditions.

There are two midwives, and this too is not very clear, why there are only two of them for such a large number of people. The commentators say that these were, as it were, chiefs, forewomen of the midwives. Well, most likely, that is how it was. These are the ministers for the childbirth affairs of the Jewish people, chiefs, forewomen, mentors, teachers of the midwives. And here, pay attention, names appear for the first time. Before this we read: the king of Egypt, the people – all were faceless after Yosef died. Here characters appear again, women named Shifra (beautiful, well-built, clever) and Pua (girl, a girl in appearance, looking young). Both names are Hebrew, which speaks in favor of the fact that these were not Egyptian women, these were Jewish women who did the work of midwives among their own people.

When an Egyptian woman gave birth, she sat on her knees, leaning on two stones so that her womb was between them, and that is how she gave birth. The child came out of the mom's womb under its own weight, and it was lowered onto the stone below, the midwives lowered it.

This is a secret mission which Pharaoh laid on the midwives, and he told them that, look, when a woman gives birth, she has her back to the midwife, she does not see whom she is giving birth to. The midwife is the first to see whom the woman has given birth to, a boy or a girl, and if a boy, then he must be killed, and if a girl, then let her live. But no such luck: once again nothing goes right for Pharaoh, because of his not knowing Yosef.

The midwives feared God and did not intend to carry out what Pharaoh had commanded them. Once again it does not work out for Pharaoh.

So, Pharaoh, obsessed with the thought of hounding the Jewish people, summoned the midwives who were responsible for the births of the Jewish women, and commanded them to kill every newborn Jewish boy and to leave the girls alive. But, as the Torah told us, the midwives did not fear Pharaoh, they feared God, and therefore they quite successfully did not carry out Pharaoh's command, which caused his natural indignation.

They are like animals – this is not said in a negative sense of the word. First, they are hardy (it can be translated so), second, the meaning is that just as an animal does not need a midwife, an obstetrician, and gives birth by itself, so too the Jewish women.

For long ages there was a great dispute among the commentators on the subject of the midwives: did the Most High really do good to the midwives for a lie, and is it permissible to lie? The Jewish commentators tried to say that yes, indeed, there are rules, there is the saving of life, there are some circumstances when to lie – that is exactly what is right. Christian interpreters, such as Calvin or (before him) Augustine, said that a lie is a lie, any lie is a sin; a lie can spoil any good deed, and in this case the Most High simply forgave the hapless lying sinners, the midwives. I think that the Torah, addressing the reader, shows him that the midwives were in fact acting rightly when they deceived Pharaoh and dealt with the liar Pharaoh according to his own lie. More than that, the Most High did good to the midwives, and the people multiplied. Apparently this went on for more than one day and more than one month, and this could not, of course, fail to anger Pharaoh.

This verse is interpreted in different ways, and there are several different possible understandings of it. Rashbam says that Pharaoh put the God-fearing midwives under house arrest, made houses for them in which they were kept, closed houses. Others say that it was the Most High who made houses for them, found houses for the midwives where they could safely hide from persecution, houses of refuge. There is also the understanding that these are houses of inheritance, that these midwives, Shifra and Pua, are not ordinary ones: Shifra is Moshe's mom (the future Moshe, we will only learn about him later), and Pua is Moshe's sister (about whom we also know nothing yet), and later they will receive both the priesthood and the kingship. There is such an interpretation of this verse too. I think that this is, after all, already more drash (interpretation) than pshat (plain meaning). And there is a variant of the plain understanding, that the Most High did good to, strengthened the houses, the families, the prosperity of these midwives.

Let us repeat that there are several variants: house arrest; houses of refuge; an inheritance for the houses; and simply the prosperity of the houses. I lean toward the last variant. However, there is one more interesting variant: the Most High did good to the midwives, the people multiplied, and therefore Pharaoh made houses for the Egyptians among the Jews, settled Egyptians among the Jews, so that the Egyptians would listen, so to speak, “rubbing their ears against the wall,” whether the Jews by any chance had children, and, accordingly, would inform on them. In any case there was a decree of Pharaoh, which applied to the whole people.

Most likely, this is about the Jews. Although there are also other commentaries which say that Pharaoh began with the Jews but ended with the destruction of the whole people. Most likely, what is meant here is that Pharaoh commanded, relying on a system of denunciations and popular patriotism, that every Jewish boy who would be born be thrown into the Nile. This order, accordingly, made it the duty of every Egyptian who learned that a son had been born to Jews to take this boy and throw him into the Nile. This is no longer a simple matter, because the Nile for the Egyptians is not just a river, it is a god, a god of fertility, who is also connected with holding up the sky, a god of the ocean. And, generally speaking, a rather powerful god in the pantheon, whose representative and in part whose viceroy Pharaoh is: “The Nile belongs to me, and I made it,” we read about this in the prophets. That is, Pharaoh commands, in his divine hypostasis (for the Egyptians he is like a pagan god, they are pagans), that Jewish children be offered as a sacrifice to their pagan deity. And whoever will not do this will be rebelling no longer against Pharaoh, but against the Nile itself.

With this, chapter 1 of the book of Shemot ends, and we continue reading from verse 1 of chapter 2.

We do not know their names yet; later we will learn that these are Amram and Yocheved, that Yocheved is directly the daughter of Levi, of Levi himself, who went down to Egypt, and that she, according to the midrashim and according to many calculations, was born on the very day when all Israel went down to Egypt. But for now we read that someone went and took. And here it is evident that both went and took, as it is written: vayélech and vayikkách – this is a formula of divorce and of returning back. And from the fact that we will later learn that Moshe, the child who was born, will have a sister and a brother, we understand that the man took her already with children, that is, took his wife back. Against the background of Pharaoh's prohibition on keeping Jewish children alive, apparently, the family separated. Since it is very difficult to establish the chronology, many commentaries appear, and some commentators say that they separated, and then it turned out that the wife was pregnant with Moshe, and the man went and took her back. Other commentators say that they had a daughter, Miryam, a clever, beautiful girl, who said: “Pharaoh with his decree is killing the boys, but you, by giving up family life, are killing the girls too.” And the feminist, stamping her foot, said: “Go back and reunite!” One way or another, for some reasons that we do not know, this man went and took back his wife.

Here one can understand that she was pregnant even before that, one can understand it this way too, that is, the text of the Torah leaves possibilities for one understanding or the other. But, so as not to multiply entities, let us say that the man took back the wife from whom he had been divorced, and she became pregnant.

Well, and next the Torah tells us a strange thing. I have seen many mothers, many times I have had occasion both to deliver babies and to talk with brand-new moms, and I have always observed that moms see their children, that they are good. Big wonder that a woman looked at a child and saw that he was good. Some commentators say right away that ki-tóv – this is what the Most High said about the light in the very first chapter of the book of Bereshit. This means that when Moshe was born, possibly the house was filled with Divine light, and the woman decided to hide him. Others say that Moshe was born in the sixth month of her pregnancy, and she was surprised that he was born a living, healthy little boy, and therefore she could hide him for three months, because the Egyptian inspection came in the ninth month. I think that here, again, there is no need to pile up commentaries: the woman gave birth to a child and would by no means want to give him up to some Egyptians so that they would throw him into the river. This is a natural maternal instinct, and she hid her son as long as it was possible.

Unclear circumstances. Again there are no indications that some inspection came and checked. The boy was growing, possibly the house was not so closed off from people, possibly the woman feared that the brother and sister would let it slip – one way or another, she felt that she could no longer hide this child.

Góme (papyrus) – a plant that is called papyrus sedge, such an unusual plant with very thick, dense stems, which grew in Egypt. Now it has almost been wiped out, but back then it was widespread. Usually writing material (papyrus) was made from it, but besides that, rafts and boats were made from it. As we have already said, the Egyptians loved to draw, and pictures have come down to us in which we can see how the Egyptians make little boats, little ships from this plant.

Súf (cattail, reed) – this is a waterside plant, very often it is confused with bulrush, a plant with such a big, big brown knob. Even in my childhood for some reason it was called bulrush; I only recently learned, to my surprise, that it is not bulrush.

Usually a picture is painted where the ark floats off somewhere, and Miryam runs after it, like Tanya after her little ball. No, he was put in the rushes, and the sister began to watch what would happen next. Apparently the place was chosen not by chance, not everyone walked where Pharaoh's daughters bathe, as we will soon see. The black little basket, made of shiny bitumen, is quite well visible in the thicket of rushes.

Here it must be noted that, in essence, the child's mother (we do not yet know a single name, the Torah does not tell us any names yet, even when I use them, I am running ahead) fulfilled Pharaoh's command: she herself put the child into the Ye'or, into the Nile, the child is in the Nile – all according to the law.

The maidens do not go into the Nile with Pharaoh's daughter, she bathes alone. It must be said that Egyptian girls (again, we know this from drawings) were not ashamed of their nakedness, but at the same time they knew how to keep their distance, the slave women did not bathe together with their mistress. Therefore the daughter went to bathe in the Nile, and the servants walk around, in case something is needed or in case some onlookers appear.

Some commentaries say that she did not simply take it, but she stretched out her hand (ama is also a hand) and that at that moment the hand of Pharaoh's daughter grew by as much as 2.5 meters, such a miracle happened, she stretched out her hand and took it. But most likely the text here is fairly simple: she sent her slave woman, the slave woman brought her this ark.

One must understand the depth of what happened, if we look at it through the eyes of Pharaoh's daughter: the Nile returned the sacrifice. The god whose name is Nile was supposed to swallow this Hebrew boy, this is a sacrifice to him. He refused to do it, which means that for Pharaoh's daughter this is the will of god, the will of the Nile, that this boy should live. She understands that this is a Hebrew boy, understands that he was thrown into the river as a sacrifice, that it is not by chance that she is bathing here, and she is filled with mercy toward him.

And here, out of nowhere, quite by chance, one more girl appears, the very one who stood and watched from afar. In general, pay attention that in our passage, in this fragment of the story, really only women act: the midwives, who somehow resist Pharaoh's commands; the mom, who somehow behaves unlawfully, against the law, rebels. The midwives lie; the mom hides, the mom sends the child off in the ark; the daughter watches what to do next; the princess, who understands that daddy's law did not work after all, that the god does not want the death, at least, of this particular boy, also rises up against her father's command. The whole passage – these are rebelling women revolutionaries.

So, the boy's mom, who had just put the boy in the little basket… What can happen here? Suddenly (as in Pushkin) “the children came running into the hut, in a hurry” they call her and say: “Over there Pharaoh's daughter has come to you with an offer you can't refuse!”

It was very often customary that a woman hired a wet nurse for her child, for several reasons. First, because it was considered that nursing is not a royal business, it spoils the figure. Second, it was considered that the breast is connected with the sexual organs, belongs to one system, therefore in many beliefs sexual intimacy was forbidden during nursing, and, in order to be able to continue relations with the husband, they gave the child to wet nurses. Well, and third, because it looks fine to have servants. The wet nurse had enormous influence on the child, afterwards wet nurses were, by and large, supported their whole life. She was in the role of a second mother, we know from the book of Bereshit about Rivka's wet nurse. The wet nurse received rather good money. Several different contracts have come down to us about how a wet nurse is provided with a salary. The thing is that, again, the wet nurse too was obliged to keep away from her husband during this time, she was obliged to eat well and took upon herself the obligation not to nurse another child. She received a salary which could equal two to three average incomes of a person at that time. That is, at that point Moshe's mom got her child back (who is not yet called Moshe) for 3–3.5 years, this is the nursing time. She got for this time the opportunity to raise him safely, without any worry, and on top of that she also got money to raise him. In fact the boy turned out to be both adopted by an Egyptian woman and not abandoned by a Jewish woman: such a spy of the Jews among the Egyptians and a spy of the Egyptians among the Jews. This boy, whose fate is unclear at the moment, since we have not read the book to the end. And if we have not read to the end, then we see such an interesting event that happened. What is this event leading to? To the fact that through Moshe the Egyptians will do something with the Jews, that through Moshe the Jews will receive something from the Egyptians, but for now this is hidden.

Moshe means, on the one hand, indeed, pulled out of the water, this is the Jewish interpretation of the name. In Yeshayahu we read what is said about Moshe: “The one who knew how to raise the water.” There is also the name Mozes (son), and Pharaoh's daughter named him: “This is my son, because I pulled him out of the water.” And it can be understood this way too.

A question arises which also needs to be answered and which people ask me: “So what was Moshe's name? What was his Jewish name, which he received at circumcision? These first 3 years, when he ran around the land of Goshen in short little pants and ate his mom's milk on Pharaoh's money, what was he called at that time? And why does the Torah report nothing about this?”

There are commentators who say that his name was Tov, for his mother saw that he was tov (good). Other commentators say: “Yes, we have already said, his name was Yekuti'el (my hope is in God).” He had such a name, but these are midrashim. Why does the Torah hide this name? Because according to the laws of adoption (several certificates of adoption have come down to us) the mother or the father, the one who adopts the child, they give him a name. This name secures and guarantees the legal right of the adopters to the child. Whoever calls him by another name, recalls his past, claims some kind of parenthood with regard to him, may be subjected to a great punishment. In some Assyrian manuscripts we read: “With six children shall he pay who remembers his other name, who names his other name.” That is, Moshe must become only Moshe, only the name which Pharaoh's daughter gave him enters history, for legal reasons. Because otherwise this would again have been a rebellion against the law, would have put Moshe and his parents in danger. And here the women no longer rebel, we will never learn what Moshe's name was.

We stop at the point that in a wondrous way the women turn out to be stronger both than Pharaoh and than the god of the Egyptian Nile, and they see another law behind the law that Pharaoh established. And wondrously the Hebrew boy, nursed on Pharaoh's money in a Jewish home by his very own mother, ends up in Pharaoh's house, receives the Egyptian name Moshe, which means son, and in Hebrew – pulled out of the water.

Moshe's Walks (2:11–25)

We stopped at the point that Moshe's mother brought him, nursed, weaned from the breast, to the house of Pharaoh's daughter, where he, in fact, received the name Moshe.

The word savál means to endure or to carry on oneself (a porter in Hebrew is sabál), therefore, when we read the word sével (load, yoke, burden), then sivlotám – their sufferings he saw.

Besides the fact that Moshe saw the general picture of the suffering Jews, enduring sufferings and oppression, he also saw a particular episode: an Egyptian is beating a Jew. One can assume that this was not something out of the ordinary in those times. But for Moshe, who had gone out to his people for the first time, this was apparently too much. Next we read Moshe's reaction:

There is no one – to call for help and to rein in this Egyptian, or perhaps there is no one among the Jews who would stand up for this poor man, or perhaps there is no one who will notice what is about to happen now.

Apparently, Moshe is a strong guy, and this is the kind of unexpected and spontaneous reaction he has to injustice. The commentators try somehow to justify Moshe here, saying that there was a story that this Egyptian had crept in by deceit to the wife of this Jew, and when the Jew discovered the deception, the Egyptian began to beat him. Others say that there is a halacha according to which, if a pagan strikes an Israelite, he deserves death, although death from heaven, not death at human hands, but he deserves it nevertheless. Moshe hardly knew all these details, and he, raised in Egypt, hardly knew the particulars of halacha in the interpretation of Maimonides. Most likely, what we see here is the spontaneous action of a man who feels for his fellow brothers, which is why in verse 11 the word echáv (his brothers) is repeated twice. A man who grew up in the palace is drawn to his brothers, he goes out to his brothers, and now he sees what is happening to his brothers. Moshe senses that this is a crime, so he hides the corpse, he calls neither the police nor an ambulance, he hides the corpse and thinks that he has sunk the evidence, if not in the water, then at any rate in the sand.

The word nittzím (are arguing) here means they are arguing already, so to speak, at an “advanced” stage of the argument. They are not arguing about philosophy or about kabbalah, sitting at a table in a yeshiva, they are already grabbing each other “by the collar.” How does Moshe react to this? Apparently, there was no particular presence of the Holy Spirit with Moshe here, he simply saw one who was more vicious, the second – fending him off, and he asks what is in essence a rhetorical question: “Why strike your neighbor?” Moshe again reacts with indignation at injustice, this time at injustice between brothers. Naturally, the attitude is a little different, and he does not understand how brothers can treat each other like that.

This is a kind of trick question: “Do you want to kill me like that Egyptian?” – “No, not like that Egyptian, I want to kill you in a different way.” It is like asking: “Have you stopped beating your dog yet?” This kind of trick question, which is also asked, of course, as a rhetorical one.

Imagine the situation. An Egyptian is beating a Jew. Moshe notices this by chance, by chance turns out to be the third person in this scene, there is no one nearby. He kills the Egyptian. Naturally, if Moshe alone then buries him in the sand, then the rescued Jew safely runs away, leaving Moshe to bury the body, they do not hide the corpse together. And, apparently, Moshe is granted great fame, because the Jew who ran away tells everyone: “This richly dressed brother of ours killed the Egyptian who was beating me.” And it is not a given that this is told admiringly, because there is always the fear here – what if something comes of it. The police will investigate the case, will dig down to who is guilty, and perhaps may accuse this man, if not of the murder, then of complicity. There is always a “galut” fear, the fear of people living in exile, that something like that will come of it. And on the next day, when this news had already spread, Moshe is stunned with the charge: “Have you decided to seize power here? Have you decided to take on the role of Robespierre, a fighter against slavery and oppression, the role of our social leader? Maybe you are plotting a revolt? Who put you here? You have no authority, which means you are against the authorities and are rebelling.” This is what frightened Moshe.

I once spoke with people from the post-Soviet space, and many say: “If in our country the son of some well-known boss, not to mention Pharaoh, killed someone, he would not even bother hiding much, because the situation can easily be resolved with a little physical pressure on the family of the victims.” But in Moshe's case the matter is not only the murder of the Egyptian (in Egypt, after all, justice was perhaps better than on the territory of many countries of the former CIS), but the matter is also that Moshe potentially lays claim to some kind of power – to be a chief and judge among the people, and that is already a revolt against Pharaoh. If you like, Moshe is a peculiar kind of king of the Jews. Naturally, Pharaoh may not like this at all.

Many commentators and midrashim say here that he did catch Moshe after all and did want to kill him, but in some versions an angel took Moshe's place, and no matter how much they struck Moshe's neck with a sword, they could not cut through it. Although it is surprising: the commentaries are medieval, while in Egypt they hardly executed anyone by cutting off the head with a sword. And there are very many different commentaries on this, but most likely Moshe was simply told that Pharaoh wanted to kill him.

The land of Midyan – it, too, is by and large a satellite of Egypt. It is a country that at that moment is under the military protection of Egypt, these are not independent territories, and among the shepherds, in the backwoods, one can disappear there. Moshe flees to the provinces and settles in Midyan.

The phrase and was at the well can be understood in two ways. Either he settles in Midyan, lives there a long time, and the Torah tells that one fine day he went out to the well, or, still at the beginning of his journey, having only just come to Midyan, Moshe stops at the well to rest. So that we can picture it: Midyan is a desert country, there are few wells there, a person needs water, so you will not wander far from a well, even if you really want to. One way or another, on the first day or after some period of time, Moshe finds himself at the well at the right moment.

Next the Torah digresses a little and says:

This is the only person of whom the Tanach says that he has seven daughters. There is one lucky man who has thirty of them: in the book of Shoftim (12:9) such a fellow is described. There are some who have three, but seven – that is such a remarkable number. A blessed priest from Midyan, the Midyanite kohen, he has seven daughters.

Many of those who have been to Israel have seen old wells. In Egypt, and in Canaan, and in Midyan they have one and the same construction: a huge stone on which grooves are made, they are filled with water, and the livestock drinks from them, because livestock does not drink from buckets, naturally. And so they drew water so that the livestock would come up and drink. But it was not to be.

That is, the situation: seven daughters of the priest of the land of Midyan came to pump water. They pumped it, did hard work in order to water a large flock, apparently they pumped for a long time, filled all the furrows, all the troughs with water – and then the shepherds come. The shepherds, it is quite possible that they were not even Midyanite, hired shepherds who graze livestock there, they are strangers, and they drove the daughters away. The Midyanites themselves would hardly somehow oppose their own priest. The word kohen means either priest, a Midyanite priest, that is, a clergyman – in any case an authoritative person, or minister, or chief, again an authoritative person. The midrashim say here that some time before Moshe's arrival this man, this Midyanite kohen, whom we have not yet called by name, renounced all idolatry, carried all the paraphernalia connected with idolatry out of his house, came to believe in the God of Israel or in some one Single God (in his own understanding). Therefore he was under anathema in Midyan, and the shepherds gave his daughters no help at all, but on the contrary, chased the girls away with their livestock. But most likely the shepherds were foreigners: this land borders on Egypt, many shepherds really did roam there, and shepherds were always permitted to enter the pastures temporarily. Shepherds were not always distinguished by high morals. We remember the incident with Yaakov, who comes and sees shepherds waiting until everyone gathers, and the Torah shows this as a rare case. Here the shepherds are much less burdened by ethics than the shepherds in Padan-Aram. And so they simply chase these girls away. It is awkward for the girls to wait until everyone has watered their livestock, because they are girls, because it is awkward for them to be in plain view, Eastern modesty and much else besides. Perhaps they usually waited out all the shepherds and came later – there are many different possibilities for how they usually managed, but on this day they came earlier, we will read about this further on. But one way or another, Moshe rose and saved them (the word lehoshia – to save, yeshua – salvation). That is, Moshe could have sat somewhere in the shade under a tree, but again he does not pass by.

Maybe Moshe, as some works of painting depict it, politely talked with the shepherds and said: “Guys, where are your feminist views, where is your liberalism?” Possibly Moshe used physical force – as we already know him, he is formidable in anger. One way or another, he managed to have a positive influence on the moral character of the shepherds and watered the livestock, which here is already called their livestock. If in the previous, 16th verse, we read the livestock of their father, now we read their livestock. Moreover, the pronoun their – is in the masculine gender, as if a slight hint that this livestock is Moshe's too.

In literary Hebrew there is a difference – their of women (suffix -an) or their of men (suffix -am), belonging to women or belonging to men. If this were purely the girls' livestock, one could say tzonan with the letter n at the end; if it is the men's livestock, then tzonam, with the letter m. Here a man is included among the owners of the livestock; perhaps this is a phonetic device, so that there would not be these two letters nun(צֹאָנָנ), awkward to pronounce. But, one way or another, we read what we read – their livestock: since they suffered for it, it is to some extent already theirs. However, this is not such an important detail.

Re'u'el – close to the Most High or friend of God, such is the meaning of the name. It is borne not only by this fellow; this is actually their grandfather, as we will find out later, that is, Re'u'el is the father of the above-mentioned Midyanite kohen, Yitro. In general, there is a great deal of confusion with the names of Yitro in the Tanach, we will talk about this as we read. In the book of Bemidbar (10:29) Re'u'el is called Regu'el. Why? Because the little letter ע (ayin) in some dialects is read not as a but as g. That is why, if in Hebrew a city is called Aza, then in the Russian language and in the English language it is called Gaza, this is a question of how the letter ע (ayin) is read. That is why Re'u'el periodically turns into Regu'el. Why he has still other names (he has 7 names in all over the course of the book) – that is a separate question, we will talk about this later. So, Re'u'el in this case is their grandfather. A grandfather is often called father, this phenomenon is quite acceptable.

What does saved us from the hands of the shepherds mean? Possibly the shepherds not only did not let the girls near the water, but also somehow tried to harass them. There are also linguistic indications of this – when we read in verse 17 the word vayoshi'án (and saved them). There is a story about a girl whom someone tries to rape in the field, she cries out, and Moshe does not come, the savior does not come. Possibly the shepherds had some propositions or some bad intentions toward these girls. In any case, the girls here tell that such a story happened to us, and an Egyptian saved us from the shepherds.

… and pumped for us – here, by the way, they exaggerate a little, because they pumped it themselves. Maybe while they were arguing, the water ran off, and then he had to pump again, but most likely they are simply telling a story of heroism, embellishing it as they go, like any epic.

That is: “You abandoned him there, maybe something dangerous could happen to him? And besides, guys like that don't just lie around on the road. Why did you leave him there?” We know that an invitation to eat bread, we have already talked about this, is connected with marriage: “I have seven daughters here, and they are throwing men away” – reasonable logic for a grandfather and his granddaughters, and in general to get acquainted with the man, to thank him. Besides, to eat bread together – this is also a covenant.

There is one more tradition, we read about it in the first book of Melachim (11:18–19). There was a certain Adad who fled to the Egyptian king (he fled precisely to Egypt), and the king assigned him bread and gave him as wife the sister of his own wife, and this meant patronage. In exchange for Moshe having protected his daughters, the Midyanite kohen gives Moshe a certain patronage and a certain refuge.

Here: to live under this man, to live under the patronage of this man. That is, these are the principles of patronage, the Midyanite kohen took Moshe under his patronage. Moshe no longer has to run from Pharaoh, hide and lead a semi-underground way of life.

Not only is Moshe a Jew living in Egypt, he is also a Jew who grew up outside his people. He grew up in Pharaoh's house, that is, he was cut off from a people that itself lives in exile. And from this position Moshe himself ends up in exile as an Egyptian of Jewish origin who found himself in Midyan. This is an amazing story. And at this point, if we do not know the ending, it is completely unclear what will happen next with all this, and the Torah ends the topic here.

By the way, someone reading in Hebrew can see that the Torah marks paragraphs with the letter פ (pe), when the topic remains open, and with the letterס (sámech), when the topic is closed: parashá ptuchá – an open paragraph, parashá stumá – a closed paragraph.

The king of Egypt died – this partly means that Moshe's exile may come to an end. On the other hand, it also means that perhaps a time of hope is opening up a little for Israel, perhaps a new liberal king will come who will remove the shackles of slavery and will recognize, will remember, that once there was Yosef, that the Jews are a great blessing, and simply that all are created in the image and likeness. That is, some democrat will come to power, and all these torments will end. But they did not end. And when the new Pharaoh arose, he left the very same laws.

Such an interesting thing, right? Every time we read something like this about the Most High – that here, finally He heard, finally He learned, finally He understood… And this is amazing: He is Omniscient, He is All-Knowing, He is All-Understanding, how can such a thing happen? Well, a person prays and says: “Most High, do such and such, act with me in such and such a way. And if not – then not. If You do not send me a Mercedes, well then, I will ride in a taxi, at least not in a minibus,” and so on. And so, we have talked about this more than once already: when there is a plan “B,” then the prayer is also heard differently. “If You do not send us deliverance now, then maybe Pharaoh will die off and things will get easier for us...” This is already a completely different prayer. When the realization came that there would be no other Pharaoh, that another Pharaoh, with other laws, would not come, then the cry rose up from the labor and it reached the Most High. That is, the Jews came to such a state that the cry, that their hope was already only in the Most High.

Again, He remembered not because He had forgotten: “Wow, I forgot, I do have a covenant with them, and I let them down so badly!” Of course, that is not how it happens: the time had come for the Most High to fulfill the covenant. The hour had come when the Most High would act according to the covenant which He made with Avraham, with Yitzchak, with Yaakov. To Avraham the Most High promised that the exile would last 400 years from the moment the covenant was made. The time had come to act. The covenant was confirmed through Yitzchak, through Yaakov.

What does it mean – the Most High knew, God knew? He only found out now? Again, no. The first two chapters of the book of Shemot are connected with the word yáda (knew). Knew – did not know. Did Moshe know that he was an Egyptian? Did Pharaoh's daughter know anything, did the mother know? Who knew, who did not know? Did Moshe know his people? Did they recognize his authority? Did the one who argued with Moshe know that he really would be appointed to this authority? And chapter 2 ends with a statement: just as at the beginning a Pharaoh arose who did not know, so here appears that King who is truly King, who is King over all, who can appoint a judge and a ruler, and he, this King, knew everything and knows everything.

We stopped at the point where Moshe settled with the kohen of Midyan, took his daughter Tzippora as a wife, a son was born to him, whom Moshe named Gershom as a sign that he was a stranger in a foreign land. We also read that the Most High looked upon the sons of Israel, heard their cry, their prayer, and the Most High knew.

Yitro is the name of the kohen of Midyan. The name Itro (Yitro) comes from the root ytr or yfr, which means firstborn, having precedence. According to some versions, this is actually not quite a name, it is something like “his Eminence,” a kind of title. Still, I am more inclined to understand it as a name, the name of a firstborn, possibly a name that was given to firstborns. And Moshe is tending the flock of Yitro, the kohen of Midyan.

The word midbár can mean both desert, that is, an empty place, and pastures, water meadows, a place where animals graze. A word can have such a contradictory meaning.

The place where Moshe came is already called the mountain of God, although we do not yet know why it is the mountain of God. It is also hard to imagine that precisely in the area of Sinai, in the area of Mount Chorev, it is rather hard to graze livestock.

The word sené is translated as thorn bush or as kupiná in the Old Slavonic translations. In fact, the problem with this word is that it does not occur anywhere else. And therefore we cannot say what kind of bush it is. Some say that it is a holy blackberry bush (there is such a plant). Others say that it is simply some kind of thorns, thorns in general. Still others say that what is meant here is not a bush at all, but a stone or a piece of the rock of Sinai, which is called so. There are also those who say that sené – this is shrubbery in general, not a particular bush, but thickets of shrubs in the Sinai desert, which are called sené. There are some indications of this root pointing to prickliness: that is, it is either some kind of sharp stones, or prickly shrubs. If one does not strive to make some kind of revolutionary commentaries, then one can understand that it was simply some prickly bush. And one can agree with those commentators who say that the Most High appeared in a thorn, and this is like a kind of symbol of suffering, a symbol of compassion for the people of Israel, who are also in a kind of thornbush.

Moshe is a shepherd, he spends a lot of time in the desert, spends a lot of time in the pastures, a lot of time alone, but he is still attentive to life, curious, and he will not just walk past some incomprehensible phenomenon, such as a bush that burns and does not burn up. Someone else would have backed away from the fire, would not have gone down into the basement to ominous music, but that is not our case. Moshe is interested, he is interested in going over, and apparently this is part of the test.

The “lure” was this: the Most High appeared in the bush to see whether Moshe would show interest, whether he would see the bush, whether he would notice that the bush is not simply burning but is not burning up – and Moshe came over to look.

In general, in the tradition of the East people did not even enter a house in shoes, because at home one serves the Most High, and even when serving pagan gods, people took off their shoes out of respect. On the Temple Mount it was forbidden to enter certain places in shoes. The priests served barefoot, and in the synagogue, too, for a long time people went barefoot. The Samaritans and some Karaites still take off their shoes in synagogues to this day. Shoes made from the skin of a dead animal already contain a certain element of impurity, besides that, they also carry dirt and road dust, and it is simply disrespect for a holy place, and that is why it says take off your shoes from your feet.

Recently there are very many people who try to make some kind of meaning-based translations, and they say that shal-ne'alécha is, by and large, remove from yourself, take off from yourself the shackles (na'ál can be translated as lock), the bolts of standard thinking: “take the shoes off your eyes,” so to speak, “take the shoes off your mind,” and look at another reality. These are beautiful midrashim, and they are beautiful until people start passing them off as the plain meaning of the Torah. And the plain meaning of the Torah here is the command to Moshe to take off his shoes, because he is in the place of the revelation of the Most High.

The Most High gives an introduction and begins with I – the God of your father, that is, the God of Moshe's father. Some midrashim, some interpreters say that the Most High, in order for Moshe to recognize him, spoke with him in his father's voice, Moshe heard his dad's voice. A beautiful midrash. Why does the Most High begin by saying that He is the God of Moshe's father? Because Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov – that is so far away, that is the God of some distant ancestors of mine, but my father I know. That is, the Most High says that He is a near God, not only the God of distant ancestors.

Pay attention that the Most High begins by calling the people his people. He says: “I have seen the suffering of My people.” The Most High says: “I have seen, heard and known, felt the pain.” Three levels of compassion: visual, auditory, tactile, and on all levels the Most High says: “I am with My people.”

A land flowing with milk and honey – this means, on the one hand, a land blessed in cattle breeding – milk, and in agronomy – honey. The honey that is meant in the Torah is usually not bee honey, it is date honey, the honey of oozing fruits. In today's language this is called molasses, and in the language of the Torah it is called dvash or honey. Honey – is juice, a thick syrup oozing from fruits, a symbol of prosperity in agriculture. On the other hand, this means that the fruits of the land are not harvested, that it is overflowing, its “udder” is overflowing, its orchards are overflowing, but no one works the land. And this despite the fact that the land is by no means empty, because the Most High says: “I will go down to raise it up… to the place...” – and names the names of the peoples who will be driven out of that land. Perhaps the Jews have long been dreaming in their kitchens, discussing: “If only we could return to Canaan!” Why for 200 years, despite the slavery, did they not return to Canaan? Because Canaan has long been settled and seized by other peoples, and it is not so easy to return there. And the Most High promises that He will not only bring them, but will also give them the land of these peoples.

Why does the Most High repeat this? First He said: “I have heard, and therefore I will bring out,” now He says: “I have seen, known, felt.”

Such an unexpected command. Imagine: Moshe (he was not yet called rabeinu – our teacher back then) – is a fugitive criminal who has already been living with Yitro for more than one decade, has perhaps even acquired grandchildren by now and is counting on a quiet old age, herding little sheep – and suddenly such a revelation! He was, as it were, studying botany or nature, went over to look at what was going on there with the bush, and the matter took such an unexpected turn: go, so to say, to Egypt and bring My people out of there – and this to a man who for 40 years had never led anyone anywhere, except sheep into the sheepfold. Of course, this is frightening, unexpected, and it is an offer where the first wish is – to refuse.

Moshe had not read the book of Shemot (just as others had not read the book of Bereshit), he does not know how many times he will have to go to Pharaoh, come back from him with nothing, endure reproaches from the people. The sign which the Most High gives him is this: “You will bring out. I am sending you to bring out, and I give a sign: you will bring out and bring to this very mountain. We will meet in the very same place.” There's a sign for you! A very strange sign, and a great test of faith for Moshe.

Moshe begins to try the role on himself. And bringing the people out of Egypt – this is not simply saying: “Guys, load up onto the trucks, get in and drive,” or: “Guys, we're going out, form columns and go.” It is not even only reaching an agreement with Pharaoh so that Pharaoh lets the people of Israel go. It is much more complicated, because it is connected with the fact that the people of Israel must be raised to the level where it will be able to leave Egypt, and then, who knows, also receive the Torah on the way. Enormous and hard work awaits Moshe. And Moshe, trying this on himself, asks the Most High this:

This is a question that nobody ever asked Moshe later, nobody. And it is also unclear why the sons of Israel would suddenly ask Moshe what the name of the God who sent him is. If it is the name of the God of the fathers, then they knew what kind of name He has. But the point is that the word name means more than just a name. God is not simply called Vasya, because He is King Vasily, or Petrus, Petya, because he is a rock. Each of the names of the Most High reveals certain properties of His, some qualities of His: “Who is the God who sent us? This is Strength, this is Wisdom, this is Salvation. What qualities of the Most High will act in this process? What shall I answer them?”

Before this, in verse 12, we read that God used the word ehyé (I will be), when He said: “I will be with you.” Here He repeats this word and says: “I will be the One Who I will be.” This is one of His names. It is interpreted in different ways, because I will be the One Who I will be – is hard to understand. On the one hand, there is a philosophical interpretation: God is eternal, and He will always be One and the Same. On the other hand, there is a historical concept: “I am the One Who was with you, and the One Who will be with you: the One Who will be with you in this deliverance of yours, and the One Who will be with you in your further deliverance, and the One Who always delivers and saves you, and the One Who always acts in you.” One more understanding is theological: God can be whoever He wants, He is the Absolute Ruler. If I am a middle-aged man, I cannot become a young woman. A cat cannot become a dog, and a monkey cannot become a crocodile, and a hippopotamus cannot become a swallow. Every creature is defined (from the word limit) by concrete boundaries, by a concrete givenness. The Most High is absolutely free to be however He likes, whoever He likes, whatever He likes, and He is not defined by any limits. This is one of the understandings of the name ehyé. One more understanding, which is close to me: ehyé ashér ehyé means I am the One Who gives being, the only real being. Everything that happens, all reality comes from Me. Everything that turns out not to be connected with Me – is illusory, “ghostly in this raging world.” And the Most High reveals this nature to Moshe, but He does not tell him to pass this Name on to the people.

Here the four-letter Name (יְהוָה) is used, which is usually mispronounced as Jehovah or Yahweh. The Most High first says ehyé ashér ehyé, then simply says ehyé, and then says HaShem (the four-letter name or tetragrammaton). Why does the Most High give three names? Because ehyé ashér ehyé is the Name by which the Most High explains to Moshe, in answer to his question, the nature of his Name: “I am not predetermined by any names, I have no one permanent name, no one permanent quality, I am not like the Greek gods, who occupy themselves with some one thing, or who have some one completely understandable, simple nature. And I am not like the Egyptian gods either. I can be Who I can be. One cannot foresee the name through which I will act. But I will be with you as Judge, as Savior, as Healer and as the Punishing Hand. I will be with you. And who is this I? You will recognize the Name that you knew: HaShem. Precisely HaShem (יְהוָה) – this is My eternal Name.” The Name Jehovah (again, in the incorrect pronunciation) also has very many different interpretations. But we will not go into theophory now (the practice of including the name of a god in a proper name), because the talk would take more than one hour if we start discussing this. But in essence this name also means: He Who produces life, He Who brings everything to life, and it unites in itself three verbs: was, is and will be, and does everything in the past (what has been), the future and what is. That is, He Who gives life to the past, the present and the future, He is outside of time, the Existing, Single, Absolute God, the Source of all life, of the past, the present and the future, of all causes and all effects, and of all interconnections that are knowable, knowing, which includes knowing itself as well. That is, an incredibly all-embracing, all-including Deity – this is our Holy blessed God, the God of Israel, the Creator of the whole world, the God of the whole world and of all peoples.

A great deal could be said about every verse of this section, about every verse from the previous section (where Moshe kills the Egyptian, hides him in the sand, everyone is indignant against him). Even about every single line Dostoevsky would have written a whole novel. Here, in our portion, there is great scope for philosophers. This is where one can really spread out, both on the name of the Most High, and on the providence of the Most High regarding the people of Israel, and on the eternal existence of the Most High, and on the different names and what a Name is in general. And I am very glad that one can toss some firewood into the fire of these reflections, and I myself reflect on this with pleasure; but our talks are only firewood for these bonfires.

We stopped at the point where the Most High appeared to Moshe and told him that the time of deliverance had come and that Moshe would be the instrument, the messenger for the sake of this deliverance. And in verse 16 of chapter 3 we read the words of the Most High to Moshe:

An interesting word, pakód: it means to visit, to command, to take control, to invest, to entrust. If one gives a figurative translation, the Most High says: “I have taken the helm of what is happening in Egypt, all autopilot modes are switched off, I am at the wheel.” And it is clear that the Most High is always at the wheel, it is clear that the Most High controls all processes. But the Torah sometimes uses such symbolism to show us that the power and the plan of the Most High will be carried out in Egypt openly, clearly, before the eyes of all witnesses, with regard to everything that will happen there.

We have already talked about this, now I will briefly repeat: milk and honey are symbols of prosperity in agriculture. And honey means not bees' honey, but the juice that plants exude (date honey in particular) and which is called dvash. And almost everywhere in the text of the Torah honey is date honey.

When the people of Israel speak about themselves with foreigners, their self-designation (ethnonym) in conversation with foreigners is ivrim (Hebrews). When Yosef introduces himself to Pharaoh, he says: “I was stolen from the land of the ivrim.” And further on, when the relations of Israel with the nations are mentioned, the word ivri (descendants of Ever) is used. That is how people speak to this day, hence also the word Hebrew.

The elders of Israel cannot come to Pharaoh and say: “God appeared to one of us, Moshe.” The elders must believe, first of all they themselves must believe Moshe that God appeared to him and that He is beginning to act. Therefore the elders must testify to Pharaoh that God appeared to them.

Why does the Most High give Moshe and the elders such a message? The point is that according to Egyptian laws – we read about this on several ostraca (clay shards) and in several Egyptian papyri that kept track of the work schedule of slaves, kept track of workdays – many of the slaves received 8 and even 40 days of leave in connection with the religious cults of their peoples. That is, Egypt was a multinational state in which there were slaves from different countries, with their own religious holidays, and the Egyptians, in accordance with their quite liberal laws, as we see, accommodated these slaves and released them to serve their gods. Therefore the Most High says to Moshe: “Come and ask for your lawful days of religious festival that are due to you; let us begin to act correctly, let us begin to act with formal observance of the laws. Therefore you come and ask to let the people go for three days of celebration.” And why do we see that this is a formality? Because the Most High immediately says:

Well, and will he just send them off like that? Maybe he will send them off in such a way that he will throw stones after them for a long time, and an era of antisemitism will break out in Egypt, and there will be popular outrage? Maybe he will send them off after pogroms? And here the Most High tells Moshe about yet another miracle, a miracle within a miracle: that a devastated, defeated Egypt will show favor to the people of Israel.

With this verse the third chapter ends, and we begin reading the fourth chapter, we begin reading with the answer, with Moshe's objection to what the Most High said. We see throughout the whole Torah that Moshe knows how to argue with the Most High, knows how to object to the Most High, and the Most High answers him on his objections. Here a feature appears that is new to us: before, the Most High spoke, and a person “saluted,” answered: “Yes, sir!” and carried it out. But through Moshe the Torah will be given. Torah is teaching, and teaching requires that commands receive an explanation. That is why Moshe, through whom the teaching will be given, is not shy to ask, he can ask, he can object and, when necessary, receive an answer to his objections. This is an important trait of Moshe's character.

Well, really: Moshe is a man who is wanted in Egypt (if he is still wanted) for murder, a fugitive murderer, who for a long time did not live in Egypt at all, but was hiding in Midyan. He did not suffer, he never suffered at all the sufferings that the people suffer. And suddenly the Most High sends him, out of the blue, to free Israel. And on top of that he has not even served his time for the past. Could the Most High really not find a man without open criminal cases and without a criminal past, someone who knows the customs and culture of the Jewish people better? Therefore, of course, it is hard to believe that the Most High revealed Himself precisely to such a strange man, with such a tainted biography. “They will not believe me,” says Moshe, who perhaps does not believe himself either at the moment when the Most High revealed Himself to him.

Of course, the Most High is not asking out of curiosity what is in Moshe's hand, and not because He cannot make out what is in Moshe's hand. He wants to draw Moshe's attention to the staff; this is how the Most High often speaks with the prophets. For example: “What do you see?” – “I see a branch of an almond tree.” And Zechariah is often asked: “What do you see?” The Most High switches on the prophet's attention, saying: “Here, look, you have a staff in your hand.”

The object that Moshe carries with him (the way we carry a phone today) – is a staff. He throws it on the ground, and his own staff becomes a snake; anyone would be frightened. The Most High says: “Take it by the tail!” Moshe grabs it by the tail, and the snake turns back into a staff. So much food for commentary! There are scholars, specialists, Bible critics who say: “Well, here it is plain to see and it leaps right out at you that the man who wrote this never had anything to do with snakes, because nobody ever grabs snakes by the tail. Snakes have to be grabbed by the head.” But in fact snakes really are grabbed by the tail, this sharply relaxes the snake's spine, and there are a few seconds when it can be grabbed and put into a bag. Although snakes are also grabbed by the head, but that belongs to the art of snake catchers. Do not repeat either one at home.

What is surprising here is that staffs were usually made with snake heads, that was the custom – to decorate a staff with the head of a snake. Here it turns out that the handle of the staff is the tail of the snake. Many see in this a proof, evidence that Moshe did not come with a snake that he had caught somewhere and turned into a staff, but really is able to turn a staff into a snake. For some reason in magic this is considered more difficult. I cannot say whether this is so, because I cannot do either one. But a staff handle in the form of a snake's tail – that is very unusual.

 Why does the Most High give precisely such a sign, and why precisely the signs that He gives further on? The commentators see in this three possible objections of Israel against the Most High having sent Moshe, three grounds for distrust: the first – this is Moshe's criminal past. His power over the snake, as over a killer, as over a creature that kills, is supposed to prove that the Most High has forgiven him this sin, and that he is protected from this sin. Also the snake coiled around a pole – a symbol of protection and of royal power. This is the first sign that the Most High gave Moshe.

Here the disease that struck Moshe is translated as leprosy, as the name of a well-known and widespread disease. In fact it is a separate disease – tzará'at, which is mentioned only in the Torah and, according to its understanding, has mostly spiritual roots, connected with evil speech, with some kind of impurity. Someone infected with this disease stays outside the camp and cannot enter the camp. This sign is the answer to the second possible objection: Israel, because of its sinfulness, because of its impurity, its immersion in Egypt, has become like a leper. And where are we to go in such a fallen state, to the land of Canaan, to the Promised Land? To this Moshe answers: “Here is the sign: the power of the Most High is to deliver the people of Israel from its sin, to cleanse it from leprosy. Look, the Most High is the One Who sends leprosy, and the One Who delivers from it!”

That is, the Most High shows: “I send leprosy, I heal from it. If someone thinks that sinfulness prevents entering the Promised Land – yes, sinfulness prevents entering, but I am the Healer from it!”

This is the answer to the third objection that may be raised: now is a time when Egypt is under the patronage of the stars. Some commentators say that this points to the month of Nisan, that all the events, all of Moshe's encounters begin in Nisan, and Pesach, the deliverance, also takes place in Nisan, and all this takes a year. Nisan is the month of the zodiac sign Aries, which in Egyptian astrology was considered a month of happiness and good fortune for Egypt, and possibly the Israelites were not alien to these superstitions. The Most High shows that He is above all superstitions and can strike the Egyptian god on the day when the Egyptian god is considered to be at the height of his power, that these Egyptian gods are worth nothing in the eyes of the Most High.

These, then, are the three testimonies that are to be shown to Israel.

And one more interesting question arises: does the Most High not foresee everything? Can the Most High not say: “They will listen to you after the first, or after the second, or after the third sign, or nothing at all will be needed,” as we will see later on. Why does the Most High give Moshe these signs? The Most High speaks with Moshe in human language, strengthens Moshe, and at the same time shows here what freedom of will, what freedom of choice He gives people. He interferes so little in human consciousness that He gives people the possibility even not to believe in the miracles that He himself performs. Being able to perform any miracles, to govern everything in the universe (in the 14th verse of chapter 3 He did say that He is ehyé ashér ehye, the Source of all that lives, of all that is real), the Most High gives freedom and does not interfere in the expression of people's will, gives them the possibility not to believe even after the second sign, and after the third. And the Egyptians are given the possibility to respond to a formal request for leave on religious grounds (although it does not say there that the people promised to return, but formally the request has been submitted).

 Moshe continues to object. And so far he argues logically: “I am not an orator, not a smooth talker, I am not an eloquent man, what kind of politician am I? Why are you appointing me to this post? Look, I am not suitable.” Moshe is critical of himself, Moshe checks: can he cope with such a mission, will he hold out, and he speaks of his shortcomings, which may prevent him from carrying out this task. There is probably also this here, that Moshe does not want to go into this service, but nevertheless Moshe objects to the Most High logically here. And the Most High does not answer these objections like this: “Well, actually, Moshe, you simply do not want to go anywhere, and that is why you are making up some excuses.” The Most High answers Moshe's words about his mouth, that it is heavy:

And to this objection the Most High answers Moshe: “Yes, you speak correctly, you are not an eloquent man, but I, I – the LORD, the Source of eloquence, I will help you, I will instruct you what to speak.”

That is: “Send someone else, find yourself a professional for this position. I am unworthy, I do not want to, find yourself someone who is better suited for this job. I will fail this mission, LORD, do not lay it on me, send someone else.”

 Here, when Moshe has simply an objection of the kind “send someone else,” the LORD becomes angry with Moshe. Aharon is the older brother and, it would seem, if one is going to send someone at all, then one sends the older brother first, and not the younger. Besides, he is eloquent, besides, he has lived all the time in Egypt among the people, suffered together with the people, knows the sufferings of the people – he is one of their own there. And it would seem that the first who should have objected (we read it, the whole book of Bereshit is full of conflicts between brothers) – is Aharon. Here the Most High says: “Look, Aharon, your older brother (whom you would have pointed to as the first candidate and would have said: here, send Aharon, he is my brother, he is eloquent, he is talented!), rejoices that you have received this mission.” A brother who rejoices in the success of another brother, in his chosenness – this is something revolutionary compared to what we read in the book of Bereshit.

In other words: “I am giving you an eloquent partner, who will clothe your words in beautiful speeches, and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth. I will see to it that you pass on My words to him correctly, and I will bless him when he passes on your words, and I will show you both not only what to speak, but also what to do.”

That is: “You will pass on My Divine revelations to him, and he will be your mouth, he will retell it, put it into beautiful speeches understandable to the people, spoken in a beautiful voice.”

With this the Most High ends the conversation.

Moshe could not get out of the mission of being the Most High's emissary. The Most High answered all his arguments. And it all began with Moshe being curious why the bush does not burn up. The content of the conversation turned out to be very far from what the bush actually means, symbolizes. And Moshe took upon himself the mission of being an emissary from the Most High. From this moment on his life will not be as before, he certainly will not be bored. And you and I will follow how the Most High will act in his life, and through him – in the people of Israel.

We stopped at the point where the Most High ceased speaking with Moshe, and Moshe agreed, resigned himself, took upon himself the mission of leading the sons of Israel out of Egypt. And we will continue reading from verse 18 of chapter 4:

Here Moshe's father-in-law is called Yeter (we talked about how Yitro constantly changes his names in the course of the narrative). Yeter means, most of all, his Majesty, his Eminence.

The expression Go in peace has two forms: lech leshalóm is said to one who will still return, who is expected to return; lech beshalóm is said to one who leaves and does not come back; sa beshalóm and lech beshalóm are also said to a dying person (something like the Russian “rest in peace”).

In verse 19 we read that the Most High is revealed once more to Moshe in Midyan. The commentators say: this is caused by the fact that Moshe, although he received permission from Yitro, did not jump up the next morning, like Avraham, and did not get ready for the road, but he is delaying.

The commentators say (and we must keep track of this constantly): “The subsequent deliverance will be like the first deliverance. As the first deliverer came on a donkey, so the last deliverer will be on a donkey.” The prophecy of Zcharya is also about this.

The staff that Moshe had, which he dragged around with him – possibly just a piece of wood, not even worked, with which Moshe walked for many years, herded sheep – now turns into the staff of God. The Most High promised to perform miracles through it, and the staff turned out to be, as it were, consecrated to the Most High. And here is the parting instruction the LORD gives Moshe:

That is: “Although you have now taken this staff, My staff, into your hands, and you will do many miracles before Pharaoh, I will strengthen, harden his heart.” Many commentators say: “Well, how can one treat Pharaoh like that? On the one hand, You deprive him of free will, on the other hand, You condemn him for it. How can one condemn a person for not being able to fly or not being able to stay under water for hours? If You deprive Pharaoh of the freedom to choose, harden his heart, how can You punish him for it afterwards?” Others say: “Well, by and large, Pharaoh deserved it himself, he brought himself to such a state.” And there are various justifications and explanations for this – how the Most High punishes the one who was not given freedom of choice. One of the possible explanations is that in reality freedom of choice is not taken away from Pharaoh here. Here there is God's Foreknowledge. God says: “I will ‘infuriate’ him so much, I will anger him so much, and the very fact of My existence, the very fact of My action will embitter him so much, he will feel such a ‘strong personal dislike’ toward Me, that he simply will not be able to let the people go. And therefore warn Pharaoh in advance.”

That is: “The fact that you are now oppressing the people here, the fact that you resist, and do not let the people go, and do evil to the people – it is My firstborn you are doing evil to.”

Pharaoh was warned and told: “Israel is My firstborn, therefore you had better not resist and send the people away, because the price will be very high, and the price has been announced to you in advance. I will kill (measure for measure) your firstborn son.” Everything is fair, as they say, all the cards, all the trumps are laid out on the table in advance. Precisely for this reason one can say that here Pharaoh is not deprived of free will, because otherwise he would not have been told: “If you do not let them go – I will kill,” but the firstborn would have been killed at once and the people would have been released. What, then, is this whole performance for, if Pharaoh has no free will? I am setting out how I now see and understand the pshat (simple meaning) of the text. But then again, there are other interpretations too, and I treat them with respect.

With verse 24 a very short but very difficult to understand passage begins. Some commentators say that this passage is the most difficult to understand in the whole Tanach, because there is much that is unclear – who acts and how. But that is exactly why we read, to overcome difficulties, so let's try to figure it out.

Malón in the modern language is a hotel, in the language of the Torah a malón is a place where laním (spend the night during a night halt). Met whom, wanted to put whom to death? Met Moshe and wanted to put him to death? Why wanted to put him to death? Further on – it is even less clear.

Do not be surprised that Tzippora has a stone knife. Right up until those times stone knives really were used for various needs. Tzippora could quite well have had one.

Here it is unclear over whose legs. There are three present – the LORD (the angel of God), Moshe and the son. And most likely she passed it over the son's legs, anointed him with the blood of circumcision.

The word chatán in modern Hebrew means bridegroom. A bridegroom is not only the one who takes a wife and is called so from the moment of betrothal. For example, the one who celebrates a birthday is called chatán yom ha'olédet – bridegroom of the birthday. Or the one who celebrates a bar mitzvah – bridegroom of the bar mitzvah. Thus a chatán is the one who celebrates. Another meaning of the word chatán is the Midyanite meaning. In the language of Midyan the word chatán has two meanings: the first – circumcision, including the circumcision of the foreskin; the second – protection, patronage. And one can understand these actions this way: Tzippora circumcised her son, passed it, as with hyssop over the doorpost, over his legs, anointed him with protective blood and said: “You are protected by blood.” In this case you (atá) is addressed to the son.

The word yiref means loosened his grip, stepped away, backed off. In modern slang red miméni means get off me, back off from me.

And since then the boy who is circumcised on the eighth day is also called chatán (bridegroom), that is, the bridegroom of blood is the one being circumcised. Tzippora called it both protection by blood and bloody circumcision. The Torah speaks about this. And in this way she said that circumcision is protection by blood. We read in the prophets that the Most High says: “I met you bedamim” or “I saw you atoned for by bloods (the midrash uses the plural).” What are these bloods? They are the blood of Pesach (the Passover sacrifice) and the blood of circumcision, two kinds of atoning blood. Therefore, even from the point of view of drash, there is an understanding that the circumcision which Tzippora performed, and she anointed the legs of her son, is the protection of her son by blood, after which the Angel could not kill him (the Angel or the Most High – there are different opinions on this).

And now it is important to understand and to answer the question: what was all this, what was it for? We saw that when the Most High shows Moshe the snakes and the power over them, He first of all tests this on Moshe. Moshe is the first who felt on himself this fear of the snake. And when Moshe put his hand into his bosom, Moshe also experienced on himself the leprosy as an instrument of the Most High's action for punishment and for purification. Now, when the very, very greatest extreme is being introduced, when the death of the firstborn is spoken of, Moshe felt on himself how terrifying it is when your firstborn may be killed. That is the interpretation of this difficult passage.

There is a historical yarn that people like to tell in this connection: “Once Napoleon was being pursued, and a Jew hid him under feather beds. He traded in feather beds, he had very many feather beds in his shop, and he hid Napoleon under one of the stacks of feather beds. Some soldiers hostile to Napoleon came in (do not look for reliability in all these historical stories), they poked with bayonets, pierced the feather beds and had already poked right next to him himself, when they were called away somewhere, and they left. Napoleon, having crawled out and pulled himself together, gave the Jew the order of the Legion of Honor from his own chest and said: ‘Ask for your reward.’ The Jew said to him: ‘I don't need your order of the Legion of Honor, what do I need this piece of iron for? You'd better tell me what you felt when you were lying there and the bayonet was piercing the feather bed next to you.’ Napoleon said: ‘Oh, is that so! Ungrateful Jew, you don't like my order of the Legion of Honor? Take him and hang him!’ And at once well-wishers were found (there are always people who are ready to hang someone, including a Jew, with special pleasure), some people were found who made a noose and had almost knocked the stool (or the feather bed) out from under this Jew's feet, when Napoleon freed him and said: ‘Well, did you understand what I felt?’”

Why do people like to tell this yarn? To emphasize that it is in Jewish blood – to feel: what is it like? A Jew is not stopped by the fact that it will be bad, he is interested in seeing how bad it really will be, and experience is more important to him than safety, and this is often painted as a historical trait of the Jew. However, we have strayed from the pshat. This is simply one of the reasons to understand it in this sense: Moshe is the first to experience on himself, to feel the horror of the fact that your firstborn may be killed – before threatening Pharaoh with this.

 In verse 27 a slightly different topic begins.

Here we do not see any particular tears, any particularly significant meeting. It is quite possible to conclude from this that Moshe somehow did keep up relations with his family after all, at least while he lived in the palace. And although very many years had passed since then, there are none of these tears, mutual questioning – how, what, where, where were you these 40 years or 60 years, depending on how one counts. Some sources say that Moshe left at the age of 20. Stephen in Acts (7:23) says at 40. One way or another, many years had passed, but this, apparently, is not discussed right away.

The scheme proposed by the Most High at the beginning has started working: Moshe passes on the words of God to Aharon, and Aharon passes them on to the people.

The Most High sends Moshe, answers all his arguments, arranges all the – to put it in modern language – logistics of his service. As the Most High promised at the very beginning, the scheme works, they believed him. Later we will see that, as the Most High promised, Pharaoh will not believe him. But that will come later.

We stopped at the point where, in accordance with the command of the Most High, Moshe gathered the elders of the people of Israel, showed them the signs, retold to them everything that the Most High had said about the coming deliverance, and the elders believed Moshe. We continue reading from verse 1 of chapter 5:

What we read here is already surprising to us: the elders were supposed to go with Moshe and Aharon to the palace and, together with them, testify that the God of Israel had appeared to them, but Moshe and Aharon come just the two of them. Commentators give different explanations for this. Some say that the elders simply delegated, appointed Aharon to be their representative, and Aharon, as the future kohen, represents the people here. Others say that the elders started to follow Moshe and Aharon, but on the way they grew afraid, and then someone remembered that he had a meeting with voters scheduled just then, someone remembered that he had a powerlifting session – one way or another, they all found one reason or another to withdraw. There are commentators who say that at the entrance to Pharaoh's palace stood guard lions, and they roared such a terrible roar that the elders were gone as if blown away by the wind, only Moshe and Aharon remained. We see that there is a certain disobedience here: the elders did not go to Pharaoh.

One must also remember that the mission on which the Most High was sending Moshe, Aharon and the elders – this is a mission doomed to failure. The Most High, in essence, said: “You go, turn to Pharaoh, perform signs for him, threaten him with the death of the firstborn and so on, and he will not let you go, because I will harden his heart. The failure of this mission will be its success. That is how it is planned.” And therefore, perhaps, not all of the elders decided that they wanted to take part in a mission to which none other than the Most High had promised failure, and to risk their lives, reputation, status for the sake of a trip to Pharaoh on such a mission. And go know what the side effect of this failure will be, maybe he will shoot every tenth one, every white-bearded one: Pharaoh is an unpredictable comrade. Therefore we see that, once again, only two people came to Pharaoh, Moshe and Aharon.

Moshe and Aharon substantially modify what the Most High said. Here the three days are not mentioned, the sacrifices are not mentioned directly. The surprising verb yachóggu (and they will celebrate) is connected with the word chag (festival). And this word, in its turn, is connected with the word chug (circle). To celebrate is not to stand idle, not to be idle, as in the Russian language. It means to be at a certain point, to stand in a circle, around someone, to put someone in the center, in this case – the Most High. Another meaning of the word chag is a point on the calendar circle, on the yearly circle. That is: “I,” says the Most High, “have a meeting scheduled with the people of Israel, they will gather around Me. Send off My people!” That is how Moshe retells the words of the Most High. This is a rather strong deviation from what the Most High commanded. What is this connected with? Perhaps with the fact that Moshe translates the words of the Most High into the language of Egyptian diplomacy, formulates the words of the Most High the way that, in his view, will be understandable to Pharaoh.

Pharaoh gives an answer that is surprising for an Egyptian. Usually the Egyptians, like the Greeks, believed that a new god in the household is a useful thing, they easily adapted gods, accepted them into their pantheon, found a common language with them or tried to come to some kind of agreement. In any case, they did not go into such a confrontation. So what is happening here? Many commentators say: “Well, Pharaoh reasoned: what kind of God is this that you have? What, slaves have some God? And what, is He so strong that He helped you so greatly? Did He somehow improve your situation, so that I should reckon with Him? Should I start making some contacts with Him? Is this even befitting my status, if you, his people, are in such a condition? I do not recognize the authority of your HaShem, and the people of Israel I will not send off. Jews in the household are more important than some God – the patron of losers.”

Ivrím – these are already Hebrews, this is no longer only Israel, this is Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, well-known people.

What do Moshe and Aharon say, how do they answer Pharaoh's objection? They say: “This is not simply the God of those whom you call losers, not the God of slaves, this is the God of those with whom covenants and promises were made, the God of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.” I do not know to what extent Pharaoh was aware of Israelite history, but in Egypt they had somehow heard of the ivrím (we also read a mention of this in the book of Bereshit). And here, among other things, there is a threat, although not the one that God will kill Pharaoh's firstborn. Pay attention: in the whole conversation Moshe does not carry out the commands of the Most High – to threaten Pharaoh with the killing of the firstborn or to show the miracles that the Most High revealed to him. The staff that was given to him is also not used in any way yet. But a sad prospect is painted for Pharaoh: that if he does not listen to this God of the ivrím, then the whole population of Egypt – both Hebrews and Egyptians – may, God forbid, suffer from the sword and epidemic. But Pharaoh is not impressed by this at all.

 And Pharaoh acts like a good totalitarian leader: in order that the people do not protest, deprive them of free time, force them, as in the regime of war communism (only without the communism), to work under a ration-card system. And here is what Pharaoh commands:

There are two categories of people mentioned here: hannogesím – Egyptian overseers, inspectors for Jewish affairs and shotrím. The word shotér in modern Hebrew means policeman, but it also shares a root with the word shtar (contract or banknote), and is connected with the words to write down, to register, to mark. In essence, a shotér is a responsible foreman. It is precisely to them, the overseers and foremen, policemen (let us translate a little into modern language), that Pharaoh commands the following:

What is this about? In Egypt there was a special construction technology. It has survived to this day not only in Egypt, but also in many countries of Central Asia, in Uzbekistan, in Kazakhstan, in Kyrgyzstan, where one can see buildings that are called adobe. Mud (silt, clay) is taken, it is mixed with straw, then bricks are formed and dried in the sun. The straw, oxidizing as it rots, strengthens the bricks, they turn out very strong – at least, so popular belief says. We know from records, from papyri, that every morning the workers received baskets of Nile silt, into which straw had already been mixed by the efforts of another part of the proletariat, by other workers. The worker formed bricks with his hands or with the help of a wooden frame and set them out to dry in the sun. In the time from sunrise to sunset, and in the summer hours this is from 7 in the morning to 8 in the evening, the quota was up to 3000 bricks. A nimble worker could produce that many. Naturally, for an inexperienced worker this was less likely, all the more so if one also had to gather straw. The gathering had to begin in the period of the end of the month of Iyar – the beginning of Sivan (the end of May – the beginning of June). This was a short period, and the straw had to be gathered for the whole year. Therefore in this case some people urgently had to be mobilized to gather this straw, because it was not available all year round. One could expect that if Pharaoh now commands that they also obtain the straw themselves, then he would somehow lower the production quotas. But no such luck.

That is, in the opinion of Pharaoh as an effective manager, a good worker is a worker who comes home, takes food from the pot, eats, at most watches some useful channel of central television, in front of which he falls asleep. In any case, only from an excess of intellectuality in the work, and only from it, does such a trifle arise as going and bowing down to God.

bedivre-sháker

9. Let the heavy work lie on these people, and let them be busy with it, and not be busy with foolishness!”

Many say, again, that this is an effective method of management: to make the work heavier for a while. On the one hand, it is clear that the Jews will not make that many bricks, and of the same quality. The enterprise will become unprofitable, the correspondence of the productive forces to the relations of production will change, the position of the workers will worsen, the people will be indignant. But as a temporary measure, to be followed by a relaxation, it is quite convenient. And Pharaoh's act, from the point of view of such an evil tyrannical economics, is justified.

The Israelite foremen, responsible for fulfilling the quota, were beaten, they were punished physically. Besides that, Pharaoh made the work of the Israelites more complicated: now they had to gather straw, knead it together with clay, wait some time until this mixture took on a stable state, a stable condition, then mold bricks from it. All this is much more complicated, new brigades are needed, a new division of labor, and the taskmasters are driving them on and punishing them already now, demanding that they switch at once to a different mode of work.

These very foremen reasoned: “Well, Pharaoh cannot behave like this!” Such a classic ancient folk thought: “Probably our dear father Pharaoh does not know what is going on. Probably these people simply said so in his name. Therefore let's go and talk to Pharaoh like human beings. After all, he understands both economics and sociology, and understands that it is not good to oppress the people like that. He will realize that it is illogical – not to give straw and to demand such high quotas. He will not allow his slaves to be beaten, and sin to be on his people!”

 That is, Pharaoh says: “You yourselves are lazy and let others be lazy, you yourselves are bad organizers, and because of this your workers too have become lazy!” Pharaoh here brings a split into society. And he gives such a hint: “You do understand that all this tightening of working conditions without any raise in wages – all this is because of your revolutionary ideas. Here is a hint for you as to who is to blame: those are to blame who said: let us go, let us bring a sacrifice to the Most High.”

That is: “I, Pharaoh, confirm to you that this is my own decision, and so it will be. But you should know – so, in passing, I am giving you a hint as to who is to blame for this whole story.”

That is, Moshe and Aharon came their way on the road, and, of course, the foremen did not have kind emotions.

The people, in the person of the foremen, condemned Moshe and Aharon and said: “Why did you do this? You achieved nothing by going to Pharaoh: no one let us go, the mission has failed, our conditions have only gotten worse. If you wanted to help us, you did not help us one bit, it is only worse for us, and may the Most High judge you for it!”

A bold cry of Moshe toward the Most High. On the one hand, we said that the Most High plans, through Moshe, to give Israel the Torah, that is, Teaching. These are no longer the relations in which the Most High gave a revelation, and it was immediately carried out. Teaching implies understanding. Therefore Moshe can come and ask: “Why? What are You doing this for? Explain how this works, what are Your plans?” And this is the first understanding of what Moshe asked the Most High. In another understanding, Moshe says: “lámma ze shelachtáni?” – “why did You send me? If only You had sent someone else, he would have been eloquent, he would have kept Your instructions better, and everything would have been different”

Every time I repeat that when we read commentaries, our commentaries say more about ourselves than about the heroes of the Torah.

One can see in this a condemnation, a reproach addressed to the Most High, and real incomprehension: “Explain Your plan to me, explain why this is happening? Why go this way?”

But one can also see in this such a reproach addressed to the Most High: “Why did You send me, of all people, for this? If only You had sent someone else, someone else would have managed, but now, because it is me, well, there you are, You did not save the people of Israel.”

With this chapter 5 ends. In chapter 6 we will read only one verse, and with this the whole weekly portion Shemot will end.

The Most High says to Moshe: “We talked about observing the formalities. The formalities have been observed, Pharaoh was asked nicely, asked according to the law, according to the customs, according to the unwritten rules. Pharaoh did not agree. Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh with a strong hand.”

Our weekly portion has the same name as the whole book – Shemot, which means Names. But in it there is a story in which all the important names are hidden from the reader, and this story begins with verse 1 of chapter 2.

 Such a short story it is. Since you and I are not reading the Torah for the first time, we already know that this is about the birth of Moshe, a very significant person in Jewish history, the person through whom the Most High will give the people of Israel the Torah (and it will be called the Torah of Moshe), the person who will be the leader of Israel at the exodus from Egypt. And despite the historical significance of such an event, the Torah does not tell us here the way it could have: “And Amram, the son of Levi, went, and took to himself Yocheved, the daughter of Levi, and the woman conceived, and bore a son, and called him…” What is more, the Torah does not name the Hebrew name of this boy at all, the very name that his dad and mom gave him. The midrash says that they called him by the name Tov, which means Good or Kind. But these are the words of the midrash, while the Torah hides Moshe's Hebrew name from the reader.

And the question arises: why, in such an important historical event, is the Torah so sparing with information? The sages say: “This is so that a person could not say about himself: I am a person of ignoble origin.” In other words: “Well, of course, my dad is not Amram, my mom is not Yocheved, I am not on the lists. My name is not written in any book known to people, so what can be demanded of me, what claims can be made against me? What can I do at all? I am an ignoble person, not foretold by the Most High, not prophesied by the prophets. I was simply born and I live as best I can.” And the Torah hides the names so that we could, so to speak, write our own name into this story: since I was born, since my father went to my mom, and she bore me, that means I am needed for something, perhaps for something great, for something very important. Perhaps for the understanding that I, too, can be used by the Most High for some great deeds, so that I would not think that I am a little person.

A little person, whom a certain someone begot by a certain daughter, and whose name we do not even know, accomplished great deeds when the Most High acted through him. And in exactly the same way we. Some people find themselves in such a situation that they simply do not even know the names of their parents, people sometimes without any pedigree at all, that is how it turned out for them. But all people, every person who has been born into this world, can be used by the Most High for great and important deeds. And precisely in order to show this, the Torah, the most important book, hides from us the name of one of the main heroes of Jewish history. So that we, people without a pedigree, people not foretold by God, could understand that the Most High can also use us for great deeds and, when the Most High acts through us, our possibilities are also not limited by anything. And they are certainly not limited by our pedigree, by our name, by our origin, and we can reach any heights in serving the Most High.

Such are the thoughts concerning the story of Moshe's birth.

As we remember, the weekly portion Shemot begins with the listing of the 12 tribes of the sons of Israel who came with Yaakov to Egypt, each with his household. That is verses 1 to 4 of the chapter, and in verse 5 we read:

 “And all the souls that came from the loins of Yaakov were 70 souls, and Yosef was already in Egypt.”

That is, the Torah lists for us both the names and the number of people who came to Egypt together with Yaakov. We have already read the list of names earlier, in the book of Bereshit (46:8–26), and therefore it is surprising that the laconic Torah, usually sparing with superfluous words, suddenly repeats this list to us.

Here is what one of the most authoritative commentators on the Torah, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, known as Rashi, says about this: “Although the Torah listed them by name during their lifetime (after all, the story of the book of Shemot begins when this generation had already died), it listed them again after their death, showing how dear they were to the Most High. They are likened to the stars, which he brings out and returns to their former place, by their number and by their names, as it is said: He who brings out their host by number, calls them all by names (Yeshayahu 40:26).” This is said about the host of heaven, about the stars, about the fact that the Most High knows them both by number and by name. When we look at the sky, look at the stars, it seems to us that they cannot even be counted. There are such professionals (or amateurs) who can point out, show certain stars and say: this one is Mars, and this one is Venus, this one, perhaps, is Mercury, they can point out some constellations. But most stars are unknown to us, and all the more so the number of stars is countless for us. But the Most High knows, as the prophet Yeshayahu says, both their number and their names, He has a name for every star. In exactly the same way with the people of Israel, and with us: the Most High knows the number, with Him everyone is accounted for, and He knows each one by name.

What is a number? A number, a figure, points to belonging to a society. A name is a special relationship with the Most High, it is some special light that each of us carries. Today it is trendy to follow fashion, to transform oneself in accordance with it, in order to look fashionable, to look beautiful, thereby dissolving one's name in a number, dissolving into the mass. And if one stands out, then only in order to again create some mass around oneself, some new community, to create some new fashion. Today it is very hard to be oneself. If people find out about some new custom, about some fashionable habit, then they (and we among them) often strive to adopt it. Therefore there are certain styles of clothing from a certain person, diets from a certain person and a way of behaving from a certain person whom people want to imitate. Trendsetters have already appeared in all sorts of fields, and there is a great temptation to dissolve and become a number, perhaps even a beautiful number, to cling to this commonality, since it is precisely the number that defines our belonging to this commonality.

 Unlike a number, a name is what we really are. The name reveals our inner light, the Divine Light that is in us; it is special in each of us. Even if we have a namesake, the name that we are aware of from within is still felt in a way that no one else has been able or will be able to feel it. In history there have been cases when people wanted to make a person only a number – in the Nazi camps, as we know. A person simply had a number tattooed on his arm, and the person was this number. Sometimes in the prison system, too, a person is made to say: I am prisoner number such-and-such, article such-and-such, and thereby he is deprived of his individuality. I will not talk about whether this is good or bad in the penitentiary (penal-correctional) system, in the system of prisons. But a person himself, too, following fashion, following social trends, often wants to dissolve: to believe the way everyone does, to think the way everyone does. That is, not to stand out either by his faith, or by his way of thinking, or by his manner of praise, or by his manner of studying the Torah. And in this, too, there is a striving to imitate some leaders, some significant figures, who perhaps are worth imitating, but without losing oneself, without losing one's distinctiveness, without losing one's name.

And we see: what is dear to the Most High is not only that He knows the number, that in His community, in His people there are numbers, but also dear to Him is that there are names as well. Yes, the stars in the sky are countless, they really cannot be counted, but the Most High knows both the number of the stars and the number of those who belong to His people. And, as He knows every star by name, so He also knows each of us by name.

As a star sends out, opens its light outward, so also in each of us there is a light that only I can reveal, only you can reveal, only she can reveal. And this is our task.

If we live now, then we are needed precisely now, precisely at this time, precisely at this time there is something that only we can do. This is true with regard to the seventy people who went down together with Yaakov to Egypt, and this is true for each of us. And therefore it is very important not to lose one's name, to remember who I am, what I am, what exactly my purpose is, and not to let fashion or some trends take this purpose away from me, take away this way of thinking, this understanding of mine, this distinctiveness of mine that the Most High has given me.

That is what we can see from the very first verses of the book of Shemot. And I think that it is not for nothing that this book, which speaks about deliverance, begins this way. When a person learns his name, understands his purpose, then this knowledge, this truth makes him free from all dependencies, from everything that is not him. When a person understands everything that is not his, he finds himself, and when he finds himself, when he learns his name, it is easier for him to cast off everything foreign, imposed, fashionable, tendentious – that because of which he seems rather than lives. And may God grant us our own life, and the revealing of the Divine light through our own, through what the Most High has destined to be revealed precisely by us.

So, our weekly portion tells, if not of a fateful beginning, then in any case of an important turning-point event regarding the stay of Israel in Egypt. We read: “And a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Yosef.”

Commentators argue about this: was it really a new king, that is, a different pharaoh, or was it the very same pharaoh who suddenly decided that he did not know Yosef at all. One way or another, at one fine moment Pharaoh decided to rewrite the history of Egypt and to “black out” Yosef from it. He decided to forget that there was once a Yosef, that he helped Egypt get rid of an economic catastrophe and worked an economic miracle. He decided to forget about all of this and to erase Yosef from history altogether, and maybe also to tell what an evil man Yosef was and how he enslaved everyone in Egypt, how he turned everyone into slaves. The Aramaic translation of the Torah, the ancient Aramaic translation of the 2nd century, says that Pharaoh forgot the ordinances of Yosef. He forgot those orders that Yosef taught the Egyptians, which help society to live righteously (rightly).

We read in the Torah that “the sons of Israel were fruitful, multiplied and increased, and grew exceedingly strong, and the land was filled with them,” and the midrash says that by that moment all the theaters, all the circuses, all the entertainment venues of Egypt were overflowing with Jews. That is, the Jews occupied the leading posts, the leading places in all of Egyptian culture. Well, strictly speaking, although this midrash is early, medieval, we see in it a historical confirmation of what so often happens. And it can be seen even in the example of the Soviet Union, where many poets, writers, artists, musicians, cultural figures were of Jewish origin.

Even though the percentage of Jews was very small, Jews wrote and tried to write like Russians, perhaps expressing their Russianness more than the Russians themselves. That is why a Jewish poet and a Jewish composer created the song “Russian Field,” in which they sing: “Hello, Russian field, I am your slender ear of grain.” This was the sincere intention of the Jews – to become a slender ear of grain in the Russian field.

However, this could not please for long the peoples among whom the Jews lived. Jews lived very well in Spain before their expulsion from there. Jews lived very well in Germany before Hitler came to power – Germany was a center of Jewish emigration, Jews flocked there, and the Jewish community in Germany flourished. It was also a cultural center, and in German culture Jews played a large role.

At one fine moment everything turned upside down. A pharaoh came who did not know Yosef, who did not want to recognize these achievements as a good, who did not want to agree that these achievements are a good. And we know what happened in Spain, we know what happened in Germany, in many, many other countries this happened. These are the difficulties of living in exile: history can turn upside down at any moment, and where Jews are well off now, things can suddenly turn bad for them. This also has its spiritual roots.

But it would be a big mistake to reduce this to pointing an accusing finger at the non-Jewish communities among which the Jews lived. It would be a mistake, because our story has a twin story. Well, almost a twin. Let us begin with the last verse of the book of Bereshit: “And Yosef died, a hundred and ten years old. And they embalmed him, and placed him in a coffin in Egypt.” And in the book of Shemot we read the continuation: “And Yosef died, and all his brothers, and all that generation. And the sons of Israel were fruitful, multiplied, and increased, and grew exceedingly strong, and that land was filled with them, and a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Yosef.”

The 110-year-old Yosef dies, he is buried, and after that a pharaoh arises who does not know Yosef. In the book of Shoftim we read the story of another man, a descendant of Yosef, who also lived 110 years: “And Yehoshua ben Nun, the servant of the LORD, died, being 110 years old. And they buried him within the borders of his allotment: in Timnatcheres on the mountain of Efrayim, to the north of Mount Gash.”

Here there is a direct similarity. About Yosef it is said: “Yosef died at 110 years, and they embalmed him, and placed him in a coffin in Egypt. And also the whole generation joined their fathers. And Yosef died, and all his brothers, and all that generation.” And about Yehoshua it is said: “And after him there arose another generation, which did not know the LORD and His deeds, done by Him for Israel.”

Here is one more parallel for you: “A new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Yosef” and “There arose after him another generation, which did not know the LORD and His deeds, done for Israel.”

These two chapters are twins, two twin passages. The people of Israel forgot the LORD, and, as is written further on, “the sons of Israel began to do evil before the Eyes of the LORD, and served the Ba'alim, and they forsook the LORD, the God of their fathers, who brought them out of the land of Egypt, and followed other gods from the peoples who were around them, and bowed down to them, and angered the LORD, and they forsook the LORD, and served Ba'al and the Asheras.”

The very same story that happened to the Egyptians happened also to the Israelites. And just as Egypt forgot Yosef, forgot the good that the Most High had done through Yosef for Egypt, in exactly the same way Israel easily forgot everything that the Most High had done through Yehoshua ben Nun for Israel. The same ingratitude happened also with Israel. And, as we know, this led to the LORD becoming greatly angered at Israel. And the details of what happened can be read in the book of Shoftim.

But what does this teach us? That we ourselves, too, in our own life can, unexpectedly even for ourselves, perhaps, begin to rewrite history. Yehoshua ben Nun was alive, and the people of Israel served the LORD. The elders were alive, and the people of Israel served the LORD. Yehoshua disappeared, someone disappeared through whom it could be seen how the LORD acts in our life, and the people forgot the LORD and went to serve some little gods that are more visible, that are easier to touch, to see, to look at closely. The people can be delighted by the beauty of their making, by their aesthetic beauty. Thus the people of Israel showed ingratitude toward the Most High. Thus the people of Israel, by and large, made itself a new pharaoh who did not know Yosef. And each of us can come to the state of this pharaoh. And if some plagues come into our life, if something suddenly happens, we need to check ourselves: have we not become pharaohized, have we not forgotten the LORD our God? Have we not forgotten everything that He has done for us, have we not stopped thanking Him, remembering His goodness that He has done for us, have we not become pharaohs? Possibly the reason lies in this. This, of course, is not the only reason for what happens to us, but in any case it is one of the reasons.

You and I will talk about a heroic deed which, unfortunately, got lost among the many beautiful events described in the book of Shemot. Of course, it is read, it is commented on, but not as much as some other events. We will talk about the heroic deed of the midwives. Here is what we read in the first chapter of the book of Shemot: “And the king of Egypt commanded the Hebrew midwives.” Some commentators say that these were Egyptian women who were simply responsible before Pharaoh for delivering the babies of the Hebrew women. But most likely these are, after all, Hebrew midwives, one of whom is named Shifra, and the other – Pua.

Again, there are disputes about who they are. That is, some believe that as it is written here, “Shifra and Pua,” so it is. Other commentators say that Shifra is possibly Yocheved, the mother of Moshe, and Pua is, accordingly, Miryam, the sister of Moshe. Shifra, in translation beautiful or adorning, – this is the one who delivers babies and, so to speak, ennobles the infant, and Pua is translated as cooing, that is, the one who can calm the infant. And so to these two women the king of Egypt, a fearsome and terrible king, gives a fearsome and terrible command: “When you act as midwives for the Hebrew women, then watch at the birthstool. If it is a son, then put him to death, and if it is a daughter, then let her live.”

The last part of the translation, let us note, is not “let her live,” but a command: “if it is a daughter, then make her live.” Not “let her live,” not “let everything take its own course”; in other words, regarding daughters, too, there is a special command. Well, let us set this aside for now.

So, the midwives receive an order, a terrible order. In the army of Israel there is this rule: if a soldier receives an order over which, as they say in modern Hebrew, “a black flag flies,” which he cannot carry out according to his conscience, then he must refuse to carry out this order, because there is a certain fear that is above the fear of the commander. And here we read in verse 17: “But the midwives feared God and did not do as the king of Egypt told them, and they left the children alive.” And in verse 21 we read: “And because the midwives feared God, he established their houses.”

The reward for the fear of God is the establishing of the houses of these midwives. And this is not just fear of God. Before you, on the throne, sits Pharaoh himself, who has infinite power in Egypt, so infinite that he can command that completely innocent children be thrown into the river, that completely innocent children be killed. And of course he can execute you, torture you, put you in prison, destroy your family, kill your children, and so on. Pharaoh is real and terrifying. On the other hand, there is the Most High, the Master of the world, but by that time the Most High had long not shown, not revealed His power in the world. Yes, He acted in the times of the fathers, but such an open, obvious, miraculously manifested power of the Most High in the world had not been seen for a long time, but there was the memory of Him, there was knowledge of Him, and there were, probably, some living sensations of communion with Him, there was the fear of the Most High. And the two midwives chose to fear not Pharaoh but the Most High, not this real man who can really kill them, but the Most High. This is a very serious choice. Just imagine how serious. And the reward for this choice – the Most High establishes houses for these midwives.

What does to establish houses mean? Some commentators, who believe that Shifra and Pua are Yocheved and Miryam, say that these are the houses of the kohanim and the Levites, that is, lineages rich in blessings. This means that their family received many blessings. Other commentators say that these are houses in the literal sense, that is, these midwives ended up with beautiful villas, richly furnished. Still other commentators say that the houses are their families, in which there was peace, order, healthy children were born there, and many children were born, and everything went very well.

But, as we have already said, there are many different approaches to the Torah. For example, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izhbitza, the author of the book “Mei haShiloach,” who lived in the middle of the 19th century, speaks, relying on the simple understanding of the Torah, about the very concept of house. What is a house? A place where a person feels safe. Every person is afraid of something in life. When we go out into the street, many dangers surround us, many situations in which nothing depends on us. A drunk worker can drop a brick on us from above, a drunk driver can hit us with his car. Even when we go into court and our cause is just, it happens, as the saying goes, “fear the leg of a horse and the head of a judge.” When we depend on a person who is of blood and flesh (and all the time, somewhere, somehow, we fall into dependence on people, on blood and flesh), we feel fear. And it is foolish not to be afraid when you stand against people of blood and flesh.

You need to set priorities: whom exactly you want to fear in this world. The midwives chose to fear not the one whom, it would seem, it was rational to fear – this terrible Pharaoh. They chose to fear the Most High – the Master of the whole world. And the Most High established their house.

What is a home for us? When we say “I felt at home, I felt as if I were at home,” or when we invite someone to feel at home, we are suggesting that the person feel as though he were in his own home, not be afraid of anything, not be afraid to be himself, live with this inner confidence that this is his home, a place where he is the master. This is the feeling that the Most High gave to Shifra and Pua. So says the rabbi of Izhbitza. An inner feeling of peace, when you understand that you are with the Master of this world, that you fear Him, that you serve Him, that He is your master, that He is your boss, that He is the only one you fear. This gives a state of peace. This gives a joyful feeling of peace in the heart and strengthens a person, on the one hand, in his fear of God, and on the other hand, in the fact that he does not fear Pharaoh. Even if Pharaoh can (and he really can) kill, even if he kills me, even if he puts me in prison, I will understand that what is happening is right, that I am in the power of the Most High and the Most High is carrying out what He intended to do with me.

And this is in many ways similar to the blessing that Zevulun receives. When Yaakov blesses his sons, in chapter 49 of the book of Bereshit, he says: “Zevulun will dwell at the shore of the seas and at the harbor of ships, and his borders will reach to Tzidon.” The word used there, leshkón, means to live in peaceful neighborliness, to live getting along with the surroundings, to live as good neighbors, in harmony with everything around.

Zevulun feels safe at sea. One can see many different situations when there is a storm at sea, a hurricane, enormous waves as high as big skyscrapers. In all this, in all this storm, Zevulun feels safe. This quality is a manifestation of Zevulun's blessing: to feel safe in the midst of a storm thanks to the feeling of closeness to the Creator.

The sages speak about the nature of thunder. It would seem that the thunder of heaven should arouse fear in people. Many people are afraid of thunder. But here is what the Jewish tradition says about this: “Thunder purifies the place of fear in the heart, frees the heart from fear.” How can such a frightening thing as thunder free the heart from fear? When we hear thunder, we understand that this sound – the collision of air currents – is brought about with an enormous roar by the Most High, that this takes place in a world that the Most High governs, and that the Most High does this, that these are the cannonades of the weapons of our Father, this is a manifestation of the power of our Father – the One Whom we fear. And when we see, hear His power, see the lightning, hear the thunder, hear the manifestation of His power in this world, we are strengthened in faith; for us this is yet another testimony of how strong our Creator is, what a strong God we fear, before what a strong God we stand. And the storm that takes place around Zevulun is a testimony of how high the waves are that the Most High can raise into the sky, how strong He is, how beautiful He is in His strength, and how weak Pharaoh is compared to Him.

Well, and Pharaoh himself, to whom God gave a certain strength, a certain authority – this is a testimony of the authority of the Most High. And when you are in this mutual connection with the Most High, when you fear God, you understand that through this Pharaoh, too, God acts in our world. This is the blessing the midwives received. They received peace in the heart, confidence, the feeling of the world as a home, the feeling of being at home themselves, and of Pharaoh – as a guest. And this is a great blessing. And this is the reward for their heroic deed, the reward for the fear of God, the feeling that we are at home, and everything that is against us, it is only a guest.

With God's help, we will dwell on a certain interesting moment of our weekly portion. In the second chapter, in verse 6, we read the story of how Pharaoh's daughter opens the little basket in which little Moshe is. This is how the Torah tells about it.

The Torah here uses two different words for Moshe – yéled and ná'ar. If there are two different words, then surely there are also two different meanings, and it is worth delving deeper and trying to understand what the difference is. In modern Hebrew everything is simple. The word yéled means a boy or a child, the word ná'ar means a youth or a teenager. There is the word yaldút (childhood), and from this root comes yéled (boy); and there is the word ne'urím (youth), and it shares a root with the word ná'ar. That is, if we were translating from modern Hebrew, it would be like this: “She saw the boy, and behold, a youth is crying.” But we know that Moshe is by no means a youth, and therefore we have to look for another meaning of this word.

In chapter 13 of the book of Shoftim we read the story of the Angel's communication with Manoach and his wife, when the Angel came to tell this blessed married couple that a son, Shimshon, would be born to them. Manoach asks the Angel: “What shall we do with the child who will be born to us? Let the Angel give us full instructions.” And he also calls the potential newborn by the word ná'ar, and in most cases the word is translated as infant. One could say, one could think that the word ná'ar in ancient Hebrew, too, meant infant, but then it is unclear how it differs from the word yéled.

When Yehuda speaks with Yosef about Binyamin, delivers a fiery speech, he says: “How shall I return to my father if the lad is not with me? (Bereshit 44:34)” The word that Yehuda uses in Hebrew and that is often translated as lad is, in the original, precisely the word ná'ar. So, Binyamin, too, is called by the word ná'ar, and Binyamin is not much younger than Yosef. We know that Yosef stood before Pharaoh when he was 30 years old; since then 7 years of plenty have passed, and probably the second year of famine is under way; consequently, Yosef is about 39 years old, and Binyamin is by no means less than 35. And it turns out that in the Torah the word ná'ar designates a person aged from 0 to 40 years, and it would be interesting to understand what this means.

The Torah also calls Yitzchak by the word ná'ar at the time of his being offered as a sacrifice. And there the word ná'ar is used in two meanings: ne'arím are the servants whom Avraham leaves with the donkey, and ná'ar is Yitzchak, who goes with Avraham. And again one would like to understand what this means.

There is one more interesting place in the Torah where these two words – yéled and ná'ar – collide, meet again. This is the story of how Hagar went away from Avraham with Yishmael. We read about this in the book of Bereshit, in chapter 21:

And further, in verse 16, she sat, wept and said:

And further we read, in verse 17, that the Torah says:

Here, too, there are two different words. Throughout the whole account of Hagar, Yishmael was called a boy. And suddenly we read that the LORD heard the voice… The translations give the word lad here. Who is a lad? This, again, is a teenager. A lad is one who is not permitted to speak, one who is already grown but is still deprived of the right to a voice: the word is formed from the negative prefix ot- and the participle rok, uttered, that is, literally not-speaking, renounced from the right to speak at the veche; such is the etymology of the Russian wordiHere the author explains the origin of the word that Russian Bible translations use for “lad”. The English word “lad” has no such origin, so the Russian word parts are kept and the explanation is translated literally.. One way or another, this is a boy of 13-14 years. Again the Torah uses two different words. And here one can understand why yéled and why ná'ar. And it is time, actually, probably, to look more closely at the word ná'ar itself.

The word ná'ar can mean the one who has been awakened or the one being awakened, from the meaning of the root er – awake, vigilant. That is, one can say that a ná'ar is a person in whom some powers are awakening, some potential is awakening, a person whom something or someone is shaking up, or he shakes himself up from within. Perhaps the Most High is shaking him up and awakening him to some actions, or perhaps the world is shaking him up. A ná'ar is a person who has powers, an awakening potential, awakened by someone or something, that wants to be realized, that burns in him, makes him restless.

One can put it this way: a yéled is a boy, a little one, a defenseless little boy who has no strength yet at all, who has not yet been realized in anything, a little, defenseless tiny boy, a newborn, an infant. And a ná'ar is a person (no matter of what age) in whom great potential is laid. When we look at a little boy, we can say of him that he is still only a yéled, he is still defenseless, he has not yet realized, has not yet brought to life any experience of his own. When we look at the potential that he has, we call him ná'ar – the one in whom everything is yet to awaken; the one who still has plenty of powder in his powder flasks; the one who is still “oh-ho-ho”; the one who is still capable of much, still ready to do much. And as Yeshayahu says about this in chapter 65: “And the hundred-year-old will die like a youth.” That is, the potential will not run out, the potential will not wear thin, and the hundred-year-old will die like a ná'ar, full of strength, with a fully charged battery.

So, what comes out? We can say that ná'ar is a view of a person's potential, and yéled is a view of what is in front of us when we see a little boy. This is also a kind of pedagogical lesson for us. We can see in a child a little defenseless creature – there is a time when one needs to see him that way – and one can see the potential in him and address his potential. When Hagar waits for the death of the boy, she grieves that her defenseless child is about to die of thirst. When the LORD hears the voice of the lad, hears the voice of the ná'ar, He hears the potential that is in Yishmael. One can argue about this potential, but the LORD says that He will take care of the unfolding of Yishmael's potential.

If we return to our story, Pharaoh's daughter sees something more than a child in little Moshe. Perhaps it is revealed to her that this child has a future. Perhaps she simply imagines how this child will grow up and whom he may grow into, what he may be deprived of, what will not happen if he perishes. One way or another, Pharaoh's daughter looks at the potential of the child and is overwhelmed with pity. She does not pity a tiny little one who will perish; she looks at the baby, but she also sees that this is a ná'ar, that there is some potential that will not be realized in life if Moshe is gone. Perhaps she does not know what potential this is and what it threatens Egypt with, but she looks not at a defenseless child but at the potential that is in this little person. She looks at what the Most High destined this person for, or simply what this person is destined for. Such are the two words that meet in one verse, such are the two views of Pharaoh's daughter on little Moshe.

And for us, when we raise our children, it would be good to remember that they are also ne'arím, that is, some powers will awaken in them, the Most High is preparing them for something. And it is normal that, while he is a defenseless child, we do everything for him, surround him with care and attention. But if he is already a ná'ar, then we need to give him more independence so that he unfolds, and strive for his potential to unfold to the maximum.

And it is worth saying a few more words about the use of the word ne'arím. When Avraham turns to his servants and says to them: “Stay with the donkey,” what does this mean? In this case a ná'ar is also a servant, it is just that in this case he is Avraham's servant: the one who has potential, the one who has powers, tasks directed toward serving Avraham. That is, in this case, the one whom Avraham will pull at, the one whom Avraham will shake up and whom Avraham will drive on, awaken for service, for service in this case to the house of Avraham. One can serve, be a ná'ar with Avraham, one can be a ná'ar with the Most High, as Manoach sees the destiny of his child or, perhaps, as Pharaoh's daughter sees the destiny of Moshe.

We can see in the portion Shemot that Moshe is, in a certain sense, the opposite of Yosef. Yosef was born in the holy land, he is not just an Israelite, he is the beloved son of his father – Israel, and he ends his life as an Egyptian. He settles in Egypt, becomes part of Egypt and part of the system of Egypt. Moshe is born in Egypt, he is an Egyptian, “flesh of flesh.” He apparently dresses like an Egyptian, and his whole life's path is a path of return to the land of Israel.

If Yosef is the descent of Israel into Egypt, then Moshe is the way back. One can say that Yosef is the descent, and Moshe is the ascent. And the moment when Moshe begins the return to Israel comes when the Most High reveals Himself to him from the bush that does not burn up. Moshe begins to argue with the Most High, says that he will not have enough arguments, and the Most High commands him to gather the elders and promises that the elders will listen to his voice. This is chapter 3, verse 18. In response to this, Moshe, at the beginning of chapter 4, objects: “They will not believe me, they will not listen to my voice, they will say: ‘The LORD did not reveal Himself to you.’”

Can we see in this a demonstration of unbelief? The Most High promised that he would be listened to, He revealed His Name to Moshe so that the elders could recognize Him by the Name. And yet Moshe says: “They will not believe me and will not listen to me.”

And there are very many commentaries on this. The Rambam draws attention to what was new in this case. He says that before this the Most High had already addressed the forefathers, but there had never been a case where the Most High told one of the fathers to go and teach something to others. The Most High addressed people and called them to do some inner spiritual work, but He did not call people to go and become teachers. That is precisely why, in the Rambam's opinion, Moshe might not have been believed. This was something new, something people did not yet know. And the Rambam says that precisely in this lay the amazing function of Israel, that the essence of the existence of the people of Israel is precisely to be a messenger of God. And this was one of the purposes of the going down into Egypt: that Israel, living among another people, should learn to teach this people. And when the readiness for this came, then Moshe was sent to Israel as well. With this the exile in Egypt ended.

We can see a parallel between the existence of Israel in Egypt and the situation in which Israel is now. Israel is in dispersion, it is no longer in one particular country, it is scattered among many peoples. This is again in order to teach the people of Israel something. We can suppose that this is in order to teach Israel to teach other peoples. On the basis of such a supposition one can understand the words of the apostle Paul that the people is scattered until jealousy is aroused among the gentiles. The jealousy among the gentiles is a jealousy for the Torah, for the law. And when this jealousy appears, Israel will be ready, must turn out to be ready to come and become a teacher for other peoples. Paul says that “if from their fall there is so much glory, how much more glory will there be from the restoration…” (Romans 11:12).

In this passage I would like to talk about what, actually, the deliverance of the sons of Israel from Egypt began with. Here is what we read in the portion Shemot, 2:23–24:

“And it came to pass, after a long time the king of Egypt died. And the sons of Israel groaned from the work, and cried out (vayyiz'akú), and their outcry (za'aká) from the work went up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.”

If we read this for the first time, it seems that it happened like this: the Egyptian king died, and the Jews hoped that with the death of this king (so the commentators say) their situation would improve. They thought: “Now, we will outlive this king, and everything will become easier.” But when they saw that the situation was not changing, they began to groan and cried out, and the Most High began the deliverance of the Jews from Egypt, from the house of slavery. Precisely the groaning, precisely the cry is the key here. We read: “And God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant…” What does “remembered” mean? We have often discussed this question – how could God forget something? Remembered means He began to implement, began a new stage of implementation. That is, the Most High returned to active action in implementing His covenant with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, precisely having heard the groaning, having heard the cry. Here the word za'aká – outcry – is used; further on we will also see ne'aká (groan) and tze'aká (cry). If za'aká is an outcry with which one turns to someone by name (like “LORD!” or “God!”), then tze'aká is simply a cry, a shriek, and ne'aká is simply a groan. But these words are very similar, they are of one nature, they are, as it were, nonverbal, one could say that they are not words at all. And it is precisely them that the Most High hears and to them that He responds.

And further, in the conversation with Moshe (3:7), we read:

“And the LORD said: ‘I have seen the suffering of My people in Egypt and heard its outcry because of its oppressors, so that I know its sufferings.’”

 If we look at the original, it is written there: “I knew its suffering.” That is, the Most High knew that the people of Israel were suffering in Egypt. He did not discover anything new for Himself, He is the Most High and the All-Knowing, but, precisely having heard the outcry of the sons of Israel, He begins the process of deliverance. This is what He tells Moshe.

It is interesting that the cries of the people of Israel are heard not only by the Most High, Pharaoh hears them too. Pharaoh hears them, but interprets them differently and says: “They are lazy, that is why they cry out, saying: ‘Let us go, let us offer sacrifices to our God!’” This is not what the sons of Israel were crying. But Pharaoh perceives these cries as a desire to leave. He perhaps understands that these cries are the beginning of becoming aware of the desire to leave Egypt; that is how he interprets them. When, having heard these words from Pharaoh, Moshe and Aharon go out, Moshe turns to the Most High (5:22): “Why then did You send me and do harm to this people?” And the Most High again says to Moshe: “I have heard the groaning of the sons of Israel, whom the Egyptians are enslaving, and I have remembered My covenant.” This is already in the weekly portion Vaera, 6:5.

What is this groaning? What is this cry? And why is the cry, precisely the cry, what became the cause of the Most High's actions? Maybe in all situations we simply need to cry out very, very loudly to the Most High? And then the Most High will remember His plan concerning us, will remember why He was correcting us with these sufferings of ours, these problems of ours, and will begin to return us to our service, will begin to act? One could even say: “Here it is, here it is written about this directly!” Nevertheless the sages said that anyone who raises the voice of prayer is like one of little faith. That is, if a person says: “With simple words, with my calm, even voice I will not shout my way through, I will not knock my way through to the Most High,” then he is simply a man of little faith. Other commentators, other thinkers said that the one who raises his voice in prayer is like those who worship Ba'al, is like idol worshippers. We remember the story of Eliyahu on Mount Carmel, we remember how he turns to the prophets of Ba'al (who tried to shout louder and louder) and says to them: “Well, shout, try harder! You are not shouting loudly enough! Where is your god? Maybe he is asleep, maybe he has stepped out ‘to relieve himself’?” That is exactly what the original says; in translation it is softened a little. Maybe God has to be reached precisely by shouting, because He has gone off somewhere?

Of course, this does not fit how we communicate with God. And at the same time we see here that the Most High responds to an outcry, to some kind of cry – to a cry of the soul. And one must understand that this cry of the soul in itself, this outcry in itself, is not prayer. It can be present in prayer, but in itself it is not part of prayer. A cry of the soul is not prayer in a loud voice.

There is a Hasidic story like this. The Hasidim from the Hasidic court (Hasidic dynasty) of Karlin were distinguished by the fact that they usually prayed very loudly. This, of course, becomes a habit (and our manner of praying also becomes our habit). And once such a Hasid found himself in another town. He came to the rav in advance and said: “Rabbi, you see, I am a Karlin Hasid, and we have a habit – we simply shout during prayer. May I shout in your synagogue?” The rabbi said to him: “No, under no circumstances will you shout in our synagogue. In our synagogue we speak politely with the Most High, speak with the Most High in awe, in no way raising our voice at Him.” What to do? The man went off home. When the Sabbath came and the time came to pray, his soul began to burst outward. The cry of the soul began to burst out. And the man could not hold out and began to pray loudly, with cries. What can you do, what happened happened. After this prayer, after the end of the Sabbath, he came again to the rebbe and said: “Rabbi, forgive me, I could not hold back. I prayed and shouted loudly during the prayer.” The rebbe said to him: “Wonderful! It was so great to hear your prayer!” The man said: “Rabbi, but you forbade me to pray with shouting?!” The rebbe said: “The shouts that you prepared from Sunday for the Sabbath, when from Sunday on you were getting ready to shout on the Sabbath – those are one kind of shouts. The shouts that burst out of your soul spontaneously, when you did not plan to shout, when it is a cry that you simply cannot, cannot in any way hold in, and it bursts out – that is a completely different cry. It was precisely with such a prayer that you prayed, and that was wonderful.”

What, then, is the difference, and what is this about? We spoke (at the very beginning of the weekly portion Shemot) about houses – about how the Most High, as a reward for the fear of God, for obedience, gave the midwives houses, gave the midwives “a sense of home.” But this concept also has another facet. When the Most High tells us that He brought us out of Egypt, it is often written that He brought us out of the house of slavery (mibéyt avadím), that is, not simply out of slavery, but out of the house of slavery. What is the difference? We were in such slavery in which we felt ourselves at home. We thought that this was our home, that this was the reality suited to us, that this is how everything should be, maybe this is just how it ought to be. And there was no indignation at this at all.

In part, such an approach to life may be right. It happens that the Most High sends us some sufferings, hardships, trials. And it is good if we have the strength, have the will, have the faith to accept these trials as trials of love, to agree with them, not to murmur against them, to accept them into our life as an action of the Most High for our correction, and many-many-many other different variants. But it happens that our strength is no longer enough, that we can no longer keep this “sense of home.” And then a wail bursts out (za'aká), or a cry (tze'aká), or a groan (ne'aká). When we say: “That's it, I cannot live in such a house, this is no longer a home for me, I am not ready to put up with this. Have mercy, Most High!” And when this is not a prepared program, when this is not a planned manipulation, but a sincerely bursting-out wail, then the Most High intervenes in what is happening in this world.

We know that when the Most High is about to destroy Sedom, He says: “I will go down and see whether it is so, as they cry.” I will go down and see whether it corresponds to their wail. Precisely in response to the wail rising up from Sedom, the Most High goes down and, to put it in modern language, takes measures regarding what is happening in Sedom.

There is one more interesting moment in the Torah (the weekly portion Mishpatim, 22:26), when the Most High says:

“If you take your neighbor's garment as a pledge, return it to him before the sun goes down. For it is his only covering, it is the clothing of his body. In what will he sleep? And it will be, when he cries out to me, I will hear, for I am merciful”.

It is interesting that the Most High does not say here: “If you do not return the garment to the poor man, then I will find out about it, I will do such-and-such to you, and take such-and-such from you, and send such-and-such upon you.” No, the Most High does not speak of this. The Most High says: “Beware! Beware lest this person cry out to Me, because if he cries out to Me, I will hear him, for I am Merciful. Do not awaken the Merciful One in Me.” This should be more terrifying for us than any punishment that the Most High could have assigned here: “I will hear him, for I am merciful. I will react to his wail. And beware lest you make someone wail, lest you make someone feel as though he can no longer bear these sufferings.”

Reasoning about sufferings, the sages asked: “Are sufferings dear to you?” And the answer is this: “Neither the sufferings nor the reward for them are dear.” What does this mean? Should we be indignant when we suffer? The point is that sufferings must not become an object of worship. One can begin to compete in who suffers more, in who has lived through more misfortunes in life, and make this a symbol of faith or a symbol of a believing person, of the heroism of faith, and so on. And indeed, there is a reward for the one who humbly endures sufferings. But it is not worth enduring sufferings for the sake of the reward. And if this wail is born inside, if this cry is born inside, if it is not a thought-out cry, not a thought-out wail, if it is not an attempt at manipulation, but precisely a cry, a cry that one would cry even if there were no one nearby at all, then from this cry, from this wail, deliverance can begin. And there is no need to hold this cry back within oneself, persuading oneself that sufferings are dear to us. Such is this complex line between our feeling at home and what we are not ready to tolerate in our own home.

Together with the weekly portion Shemot, a prophetic passage from the book of Yeshayahu is read, which consists of two parts: from verse 6 of chapter 27 to verse 13 of chapter 28, and two more verses, 22 and 23 of chapter 29.

So, we will begin with verse 6 of chapter 27.

Literally it is written simply habba'im (will come): days will come, years will come, a time will come, and Yaakov will take root.

The whole world will be full of produce. The result of the flourishing, of the restoration of Israel will be fruit for the whole universe. The fruit of Israel – restored, blossoming – will be visible to the whole world.

In verse 7 the Most High speaks of His long-standing mercy toward the people of Israel. Here there is a wonderfully beautiful play on words. Unfortunately, a play on words is very hard to translate. In Yeshayahu there are very many such places, but the play on words is almost always lost in translation, it cannot be otherwise. But we will still try to understand what this is about. The Most High says here this:

The play on words is based on the word makká (blow) and the verb lehakkót (to strike). The Most High says: “hakmakkát makkéhu hikkáhu – Did I strike him as I struck those striking him?” That is: “I sent nations to strike Israel, sent nations to punish Israel. But these punishing nations I always struck more than I struck the one being punished, than Israel. I always showed mercy to Israel.”

In the second part of the verse there is also a play on words, but this time based on the verb lyaharog (to kill): “Did I so kill him as I killed those killing him?” The Most High sent death upon Israel through certain nations, directed nations against Israel to ruin him, and allowed the sons of his own people to be killed. But more punishment always came upon the killers. Therefore the Most High says: “I have always had mercy on Israel, and I am always waiting, I am preparing him for flourishing.”

The word sasse'a, which is used here, means exact measuring out, precisely to a tee, measure for measure.

The LORD says: “I did punish Israel after all. But I never struck him down to the end.” There is always mercy toward Israel, there is always the expectation of Israel's correction. And here is what the Most High says in verse 9:

If all these altars are smashed, when all this is destroyed – in this will be the correction of Israel. Never are other nations sent, never is someone or something sent to destroy Israel. Punishments are sent in order to correct Israel. In this case the Most High says that His desire, His will is to heal Israel of idolatry. And the fruit of Israel's correction will be the destroyed altars.

The next two verses, 10 and 11, are difficult both to understand and to translate. It often happens that each word separately seems to be understandable, yet the overall meaning still slips away. And many commentators, and scholars, specialists in Hebrew, argue about the meaning of these words. Let us try to figure it out.

Most likely, what is meant here is that the branches will break. Although, as I have already said, the full meaning of these verses is unclear.

What could this be about? There is some large city, some flourishing place. Perhaps this is that very idolatrous Israel which is subject to punishment. Perhaps, on the contrary, this is Ashur, the country that holds the Jews. From this verse, from this fragment, one can understand it both this way and that way. And the city will become so weak that women will come and burn its branches, precisely women – those who are not used to fighting, simple, weak working women of a Jewish village will come and burn these branches.

And who, then, is the senseless people here? And here again it is unclear: it is quite possible to interpret this as being about the people of Israel, which has sunk into idolatry, and one can also understand that it speaks of those nations in whose captivity Israel is.

And only, perhaps, from the end of this verse can one understand that this is not about Israel: after all, we have just read how merciful the Most High is to Israel. But nevertheless it can be understood in two ways.

The Most High says: “I will go through all the trees and one by one knock you down from all sorts of different olive trees on which you have begun to grow.” And a great event will take place:

These wonderful words, this wonderful prophecy also, of course, became a song, which many Israeli musicians perform with pleasure.

Here chapter 27 ends, and we continue reading from verse 1 of chapter 28.

The northern kingdom hoped that it could hold out thanks to its alliance with the Arameans, with the Aramean kingdom, as had happened 130 years earlier, when this alliance really did save it. And, being confident in this alliance, being confident that they were under protection, the Efrayimites, as the prophet says here, became drunk on this feeling of peace.

A person who has found a fruit that ripened before its time grabs it and eats it. And in exactly the same way they will deal with the kingdom of Efrayim. Efrayim left the Most High, relying on other peoples, put its security into a covenant with Aram and became drunk on the feeling of its own security and its own self-confidence. And all its beauty (so says the prophet) will be trampled, all its “crownedness” will be trampled into the mud.

Here Yehuda is meant. Before this we were talking about Efrayim, which will be destroyed through its drunkenness. And here is what will happen with Yehuda.

The Most High says here that mercy will be shown to Judea, to the remnant of the people, one more mercy. The Most High will give wisdom to those who judge, will give courage to those who fight, will send prophets who instruct and encourage Judea. But here too there is room for temptation.

Here, of course, it is not about alcohol directly. And drunkenness here is precisely a metaphor. A metaphor expressing self-confidence, idolatry, faith in one's own security, in one's own mind, in the idea that “we are just so all-powerful,” drunkenness with faith in oneself.

Judea has the same temptation – to serve idols, to serve other gods, despite all the mercies. And this will happen with Judea, and judgment in Judea is also twisted.

Like in a drunkards' den in which no one has ever cleaned, everything is dirty, everything is soiled with human vomit, everything is in human filth, there is nowhere to step for this dirt. It looks horrible. And the prophet directly calls things by their names. So says the Most High about Judea.

But what does the people say in response to the mercy of the Most High? In response to the mercy sent down by Him, to the spirit of judgment, to the spirit of heroism? Here is what the people says:

That is: “You are teaching us, comrade prophets, as if the milk on our lips has not dried yet. But we have mustaches ourselves. That is not milk so white on our lips, that is our mustache.”

And further, in verse 10, again a play on words, again an amazing play on words.

That's the kind of verse it is. Tzav means an order or a command, a hurrying somewhere; here it is the preaching of the prophet. When the prophet preaches, when the prophet speaks about some judgment, they answer him. That is, the principle is this: you give them one word, they give you two; for every word they have an answer. Moreover, this whole phrase – tzav latzáv tzav latzáv kav lakáv kav lakáv – is very similar to the way an infant sucks at the breast; it is also a sound play on words. It seems to the people that all this is some kind of gibberish, some kind of baby babble – what they are being taught. And when the prophet says something, makes some call, they answer with some slogans of their own. When the prophet speaks about some sentence, warns of some punishment, they talk about something of their own. They have their own gods with their own measures, they are immersed in this. And they, in answering, constantly mimic the prophet, they cannot take in the word. Some translations here say: commandment upon commandment… and so on, as if the people were striving for some kind of “stringency” in observing something. But the whole context speaks of something else: people are laughing at the prophet. Here they laughed a little, there they laughed a little, here they mimicked, there they mimicked. That is what happens with the prophet. That is what happens when the Most High gives a spirit of mercy, a spirit of judgment, a spirit of righteousness, a spirit of heroism. All this is mimicked and turned into clowning, and the people, with these mockeries, is not able to take in anything. For every call to the people they have their own slogan, for every sentence they have their own sentence, their own judgment. You cannot out-argue them in this drunken delirium of theirs. And how do you talk with them, how do you talk with drunk people? And in defense of precisely this understanding one can ask: do drunk people strive for stringencies in anything?

The word la'ág is mockery, derision. Yes, it seems to them that they are being mocked, and they mock in return. Strictly speaking, quite natural behavior for drunk people.

There is no one hearing, no one who is ready to listen to the prophet, who is ready to take his speeches seriously. Everyone takes his speeches as some kind of funny gibberish.

And verse 13 repeats again and now states the result:

A person who slips, if he does not expect that he will stumble, falls backward.

Because they did not hear the prophet, they fell. And, in fact, in this they are given over to plunder. Precisely because they did not take in the mercies of the Most High, did not take in that the Most High in His mercy was trying to turn to them all the time, they fell and were caught.

But our passage does not end on a bad note, does not end on a heavy note, and there is a continuation. As I already said, we read verses 22 and 23 from the next chapter, 29:

Here it is mentioned that the LORD undertook to correct, to bring up and to nurture the people of Israel already from the times of Avraham.

Of course, not the holy Patriarch Yaakov, but the Holy God of Yaakov, the One Whom Yaakov sanctified – the Most High. Despite all the punishments, despite the resistance, despite the fact that the people of Israel is such a hard-to-raise, stiff-necked teenager, it will nevertheless be raised properly. Israel will flourish, and this will be a flourishing for the whole world. And Israel will see how its children, the work of the hands of the Most High (Israel will understand that this is the work of the hands of the Most High), sanctify the Name of the Most High and revere the Holy One of Israel.

Read also: Vayechi, Vaera and the weekly portions of the Torah.