Tag Archives: salvation

[PEP Student] Salvation

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Dear Friends,

I hope you are all well, wherever you are and whatever crazy winter weather you are experiencing! It’s hard to believe that the fall semester at Pardes ended last week. I have learned SO much in these last few months and look forward to soaking up as much Torah as possible, further exploring this country and strengthening relationships I have made in my time remaining in Israel.

This past Shabbat, we read Parshat Beshalach which describes the ‘final scene’ of the Jewish enslavement in Egypt, namely the physical exodus from Egypt including Pharaoh’s last-minute pursuit of the Jewish People, the splitting of the Red Sea and the famous song of praise to God (Az Yashir – “Then He/They Sang”) for saving the people from Pharaoh’s army. 

As you might imagine, there is a lot of adrenaline running when the Egyptians pursue the Jewish People in their attempt to flee persecution and start anew in the Land of Israel. With Moses leading the Jewish People and Pharaoh and his chariots fast-approaching behind them, the people panic and exclaim:

יא)  וַיֹּאמְרוּ, אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, הֲמִבְּלִי אֵין-קְבָרִים בְּמִצְרַיִם, לְקַחְתָּנוּ לָמוּת בַּמִּדְבָּר:  מַה-זֹּאת עָשִׂיתָ לָּנוּ, לְהוֹצִיאָנוּ מִמִּצְרָיִם

11) And they said unto Moses: ‘Because there were no graves in Egypt, had you taken us away to die in the wilderness? what have you done to us, to bring us forth out of Egypt?

יב)  הֲלֹא-זֶה הַדָּבָר, אֲשֶׁר דִּבַּרְנוּ אֵלֶיךָ בְמִצְרַיִם לֵאמֹר, חֲדַל מִמֶּנּוּ, וְנַעַבְדָה אֶת-מִצְרָיִם:  כִּי טוֹב לָנוּ עֲבֹד אֶת-מִצְרַיִם, מִמֻּתֵנוּ בַּמִּדְבָּר

12) Is not this the word that we spoke to you in Egypt, saying: Let us alone, that we may serve the Egyptians? For it were better for us to serve the Egyptians, than that we should die in the wilderness.’ (Exodus 14:11-12)

 Moses calms the people, saying:

יג)  וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה אֶל-הָעָם, אַל-תִּירָאוּ–הִתְיַצְּבוּ וּרְאוּ אֶת-יְשׁוּעַת ה’, אֲשֶׁר-יַעֲשֶׂה לָכֶם הַיּוֹם:  כִּי, אֲשֶׁר רְאִיתֶם אֶת-מִצְרַיִם הַיּוֹם–לֹא תֹסִפוּ לִרְאֹתָם עוֹד, עַד-עוֹלָם

13) And Moses said unto the people: ‘Do not fear, stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD, which He will work for you today; for whereas you have seen the Egyptians today, you shall see them again no more for ever. (Exodus 14:13)

In reading Moses’ response to the Jewish People, I was struck by the language of the Torah.
Why does Moses decide to describe God’s actions in this moment of crisis as ישועת ה, “salvation of God”?

Especially given that the prior language of גאולה “redemption” is employed very clearly in Exodus 6:6, it seems strange that the Torah would use a particular terminology in one part of the narrative and change it in another part of the same narrative.

To answer this question, I decided to poll some of my friends who were online while I was writing this dvar Torah. I asked them: what is the difference between the terms ישועה (salvation) and גאולה (redemption)?

My dear friend and long-time chevruta (study partner), Phil Keisman answered that ישועה reminded him of a different part of the Bible, particularly the Book of Judges. The Book of Judges uses this same Hebrew verb to refer to the judges in a given generation who would save the Jewish People from the oppressive rule of a neighbouring nation, like the Philistines. According to the Brown Driver Briggs Hebrew Lexicon (BDB), the term ישועה implies a physical salvation, ensuring safety and prosperity, whereas גאולה has the connotation of redeeming the slave and of being a kinsman. This being the case, Phil suggested that Moses uses the word ישועה in this context because he is referring to direct divine intervention to save them. If Moses had used the term גאולה, they might have understood that they were expected to play a role in getting themselves out of this situation.

Another friend of mine, Ora Shore, suggested that ישועה is more about the process and גאולה may be the result of this ישועה. To frame it slightly differently, I would say that God’s direct salvation (ישועה) is necessary at this moment and ultimately will enable the Jewish People to self-actualize and attain redemption (גאולה).

So what can we learn from this linguistic exploration?

I think it is not for nothing that the Torah chooses to employ one terms in a specific context and another term elsewhere. Particularly, when reading about the Exodus from Egypt, we become aware of the heightened anxiety of the Jewish People; they are terrified that they will not make it out alive and that God is going to abandon them in the desert, en route to Israel. Moses reassures them that God will not leave them, and moreover God will directly intervene to keep them safe and secure. Nevertheless, the purpose of leaving Egypt is not for the nation to become utterly dependent on God’s aid; they must use their time in the desert to unify as a people and draw on their own strengths and talents to conquer and settle in the Land of Israel. This is the intended end-goal of the Exodus: Redemption.

I don’t want to presume anything but I can speak personally and say that I often struggle to find a balance between my dependency on God (ישועה) and expectation that God will save me and secure my future and functioning as an autonomous individual and self-actualize (גאולה) in order to seek what I need or want in my life.

And so, I bless us all that we are able to find this balance in our lives and recognize when we need to ask for ישועה (salvation) from God and when we need to make things happen for ourselves and enable our own personal and/or collective  גאולה (redemption).

Shavua tov,
Tamara

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[PEP Student] Parshat Va’era

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Dear Friends,

Much of the Book of Exodus, including last week’s Parshat Va’era, is about linking the beginnings of the world, and particularly the history of one family (i.e. Abraham and Sarah’s), their struggles and triumphs, to the development and history of a specific nation, soon to be known as Bnei Yisrael–the Jewish People. I always find it puzzling how we are thrown into the Book of Exodus. Imagine reading a book when 50 or so chapters have been dedicated to developing rich characters, delving into their successes and hardships and exploring the complexities of their relationships. And all of a sudden, after 50 chapters the book starts to talk about a large amorphous people and their will to survive under duress. I mean: what happened to all the wacky family dynamics and deeply personal existential crises?!

Nachmanides, a 12th-century Spanish rabbinic scholar, wrote in his introduction to Exodus that the book starts with the list of genealogies of those who came down to Egypt, even though they were recounted at the end of Genesis, to remind the reader that the beginning of redemption started in this family’s going down to Egypt. And furthermore, the exile in Egypt will not be fully complete or restored until this family–now a nation–returns back to “their place and the level/virtue of their forefathers”. Therefore, one might expect the Book of Exodus to make reference to the deeds (maybe misdeeds) and promises between God and the progenitors of the Jewish People, namely the Matriarchs and Patriarchs. In fact, there are a number of thematic and linguistic threads which are woven in and out of Genesis and find their way into Exodus.

One example of this, which I found quite striking, in in the beginning of our parsha (Exodus 6:6-8), as follows:

ו)  לָכֵן אֱמֹר לִבְנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל, אֲנִי ה’, וְהוֹצֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם מִתַּחַת סִבְלֹת מִצְרַיִם, וְהִצַּלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מֵעֲבֹדָתָם; וְגָאַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בִּזְרוֹעַ נְטוּיָה, וּבִשְׁפָטִים גְּדֹלִים

6) Therefore say unto the children of Israel: I am the LORD, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you from their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments;

ז)  וְלָקַחְתִּי אֶתְכֶם לִי לְעָם, וְהָיִיתִי לָכֶם לֵאלֹהִים; וִידַעְתֶּם, כִּי אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם, הַמּוֹצִיא אֶתְכֶם, מִתַּחַת סִבְלוֹת מִצְרָיִם

7) and I will take you to Me for a people, and I will be to you a God; and ye shall know that I am the LORD your God, who brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians.

ח)  וְהֵבֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם, אֶל-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָשָׂאתִי אֶת-יָדִי, לָתֵת אֹתָהּ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב; וְנָתַתִּי אֹתָהּ לָכֶם מוֹרָשָׁה, אֲנִי ה 

8 ) And I will bring you in unto the land, concerning which I lifted up My hand to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; and I will give it you for a heritage: I am the LORD.’

If these verses sound familiar, you’re not totally crazy! They’re used in the Pesach Seder to connote the “Four Stages or Expressions of Redemption” of the Exodus from Egypt.

  1. וְהוֹצֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם מִתַּחַת סִבְלֹת מִצְרַיִם
  2. וְהִצַּלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מֵעֲבֹדָתָם
  3. וְגָאַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בִּזְרוֹעַ נְטוּיָה, וּבִשְׁפָטִים גְּדֹלִים
  4. וְלָקַחְתִּי אֶתְכֶם לִי לְעָם, וְהָיִיתִי לָכֶם לֵאלֹהִים; וִידַעְתֶּם, כִּי אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם, הַמּוֹצִיא אֶתְכֶם, מִתַּחַת סִבְלוֹת מִצְרָיִם

 But what strikes me most about these familiar verses was a part of these “Stages or Expressions of Redemption” which is often left out of our teaching of Pesach. I was always taught that these “Stages of Redemptions” began with “And I will bring you out from under the burdens of Egypt” (see #1 in Hebrew, above).

But the verse starts earlier than that and introduces these phases of Redemption from Egypt with the words “I am the LORD” or in Hebrew “אֲנִי ה“.  This phrase sets off incredible warning bells (!) and our biblical and literary sensitivities send us straight back to Parshat Lech Lecha.

In Parshat Lech Lecha, Abraham is commanded to leave his home in Ur Kasdim and move to Cana’an to serve God and become a great nation. However, upon Abraham’s fulfillment of this divine command, Abraham experiences a series of incredible difficulties (to put it mildly) such as having to seek refuge in Egypt due to a famine in Cana’an and almost losing Sarah there, battling a series of Canaanite kings and bearing witness to the destruction of Sodom and Amora. God realizes that these experiences have put a tremendous strain on Abraham’s faith, and in response God wants to reassure Abraham that ‘everything will work out’ for him and his family, as promised. In this reassuring promise, known as Brit ben Habetarim (I don’t want to get in to the name of this covenant), God says to Abraham:

ז)  וַיֹּאמֶר, אֵלָיו:  אֲנִי ה’, אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִיךָ מֵאוּר כַּשְׂדִּים–לָתֶת לְךָ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת, לְרִשְׁתָּהּ

7) And He said unto him: ‘I am the LORD that brought you out of Ur Kasdim, to give you this land to inherit it.’ (Gen. 15:7)

This use of the phrase “I am the LORD” appears both in the beginning of the Exodus narrative, as well as in this reassuring covenant between God and Abraham in Genesis.

So, what is the connection between these two appearances of this phrase? After all, it seems to be a fairly common language that one might find in the Bible!

While this phrase does appear in many instances in the Bible, I think it is especially noteworthy that it is mentioned in the context of God reassuring Abraham in Parshat Lech Lecha and God reassuring the Jewish People (via Moses) in Parshat Va’era. Let me explain….

The Jewish People who are suffering under the rule of Pharaoh in Egypt are in desperate need of salvation. I imagine that building pyramids and living as an unwelcome minority under a large superpower like Egypt took a toll on the faith of the Jewish People in Egypt. Naturally, God realized that Moses, as God’s messenger, needed to revive the spirit of the Jewish People. But to do so, Moses needed to draw on their collective memory and remind them of the good ol’ days recounted to them by their parents and grandparents. The Jewish People in Egypt needed to hear that God had not forgotten about God’s covenant with the Abraham, their forefather. Therefore, God invokes the same language of the covenant of Brit ben Habetarim to lift the spirits of the Jews in Egypt and restore their faith in God and God’s recognition that they are still links in this chain of the Jewish People, which is spearheaded by Abraham.

Now, what is the take-away for us today?
How can we relate to these words leaving in a post-Egyptian exile world?

I think this section of the parsha compels us to ask ourselves how or to what extent do we see ourselves as links in the chain.
I must ask myself: How am I connected to Jewish tradition(s)? The Jewish past? And more specifically, how does my past inform my Jewish self in the present?

I bless us all that we are able to identify and hold on to our roots, so we can live intentional Jewish lives in the present!

Shavua tov,
Tamara

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What I Learned at Pardes This Week #6

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This is a cross-post from my personal blog.

Earlier this week, in Judy Klitsner’s Bereshit class, we were looking at the issue of Noah’s naming. When he names him, his father Lemech explains the name, saying “this one will give us relief from our work and the toil of our ands from the land which the Lord cursed.” While the name Noah (נח) is superficially similar in sound and spelling to the word for “he will give us relief” (ינחמנו), the words are not actually related etymologically. Noah comes from the root נ-ו-ח / N-W-X, which means rest, while the word for “will give us relief” comes from the root נ-ח-ם / N-X-M, meaning comfort. So although the words sound the same, they are not etymologically related. So what do we do with the apparent contradiction between linguistics and the biblical text?

Our teacher presented us with three possible solutions to the problem, two from the medieval commentators Rashi and Ibn Ezra, and one of her own.

Ibn Ezra

The commentaries of Ibn Ezra are so rational and worldly that it is almost surprising to find them included in the cannon of classical biblical commentators. On the verse in question, he offers a variation of his oft-repeated trope that the Torah speaks in the language of human beings. The words sound the same, and they have similar meanings- that should be good enough for us as readers. After all, this is far from the only place in the bible where the explicitly stated reason for a name fails to stand up to strict linguistic scrutiny. In other words, it’s just not worth worrying about.

Rashi

Contrasted with Ibn Ezra, Rashi has a rather rigorous idea of the Torah’s perfection, and refuses to accept the idea that there is any dissonance at all between the linguistic reality and the stated meaning. According to Rashi, the verb ינחמנו doesn’t mean “He will comfort us”, but rather “He will bring rest from us”, so that the מ in the word is not part of the root, but rather part of the suffix, and in fact the root of the expression is נוח N-W-X after all, just like Noah’s name. So Rashi manages to harmonize the meanings, but in order to do so, resorts to proposing a grammatical form that fails to make idiomatic sense and doesn’t seem to have strong precedent elsewhere in the bible.

Klitsner

Our teacher, not satisfied with either Ibn Ezra’s cool dismisal of the problem or Rashi’s rather creative solution, suggests instead that the dissonance of meaning in text is a deliberate literary choice, giving the reader a dual sense of Noah’s role. On the one hand he is the means of humanity’s salvation from divine wrath, a true comfort (נחמ N-X-M) while on the other he only manages to save his own family leaving the rest of the world to perish, providing mere rest from punishment (נוח N-W-X), a respite without full relief.

In general, I like Klitsner’s underlying methodological assumption that difficulties and contradictions in the text of the bible serve a literary purpose, which lead her to look for a double meaning in this verse. However, I am not convinced by her conclusion in this case of what that double meaning is. “Comfort” and “Rest” are too close to one another in meaning to support the contrast in significance that she seems to be drawing between them.

My humble opinion

It was only at the next meeting of our class, when were were looking at the problematics surrounding the statement “And the Lord regretted that he had made man on earth and His heart was saddened” in Genesis 6:6 (e.g., “Does God have human emotions like regret?”, “If God is omniscient, shouldn’t he have forseen the consequences of previous actions that lead to this?” – questions beyond the scope of this post), that Lemech’s strange explanation of Noah’s name became clear to me. Noting the fact that the word meaning “and he regretted” in 5:29 (וינחם / Vayinaxem) comes from the root (נחם / N-X-M) which had given us so much trouble when it came up in the context of Noah’s name, it occured to me to look at the two verses side by side. They turn out to have striking parallels.

Compare Genesis 5:29

This one will PROVIDE US RELIEF (ינחמנו / Yenaxameinu) FROM OUR WORK (ממעשנו / mima&aseinu) AND FROM THE TOIL (ומעצבון / umei&itsevon) of our hands, from THE SOIL (האדמה / ha’adamah) which the Lord had cursed.

with Genesis 6:6

And the Lord REGRETTED (וינחם / vayinaxem) that HE HAD MADE (עשה / &asah) MAN (האדמ / ha’adam) on earth, and His heart WAS SADDENED (ויתעצב / vayit&atsev).

Each verse contains the roots נחם / N-X-M, עשה / &-S-H, אדמ / ‘-D-M, and עצב / &-Ts-B. Moreover, if we leave out the root אדם / ‘-D-M (“man” and “soil”, respectively) the roots appear in the same order, in both verses. This, together with their proximity in the biblical text (only 9 verses apart), tells me that they must be commenting on each other. Lemech cites relief (נחם) as the source of Noah’s name, a word linguistically unrelated to Noah, even though the actual root of rest (נוח) would have conveyed essentially the same meaning, because נחם / N-X-M serves as a little hyper-link to the issue of God’s regret at the creation of humanity.

This explanation solves not only the textual problem of Lemech’s etymological error, but it also solves another more conceptual problem, namely, that Lemech’s prediction for Noah’s future seems to correspond to the story that follows only vaguely and obliquely. He predicts that Noah will bring relief from our work and the toil of our hands, when in point of fact, both the the biblical text and in the reality we know, humanity still knows no relief from the work and toil of our hands.

In light of the correspondence between Genesis 5:29 and 6:6, we see that this dissonance of meaning, like the linguistic dissonance we looked at earlier, serves a literary role. Noah does provide rest/relief, as Lemech forsees, but it is not rest or relief from “our work and the toil of our hands”. Rather, it is a respite and relief from God’s regret (נחם / N-X-M) and sadness (עצב / &-Ts-B) at having made (עשה / &-S-H) man.

After fleshing this out for myself, I still need to consult with my teachers to find out if I’ve stumbled upon a hiddush (a novel insight), if I’m merely reinventing someone else’s wheel, or if there’s some glaring flaw in my reasoning that I’ve overlooked.

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Reckless youth?

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We see a fascinating and at first glance disturbing pattern in Joseph’s life this week. He tells his brothers about multiple dreams where he is not only in a place of tremendous power and success, but where the brothers are in a place of subjugation. Could he not have left the latter part out?

We see this again when he is interpreting dreams for his fellow prison mates. He tells the cup-bearer of his salvation and return to previous post, which is great. He then interprets the bread baker’s dream and tells him not only of his death, but of the gruesome details of how he would be killed and humiliated in the process. Could he not have left this second part out?

This question really bothered me when I first read the Parshah. However, when I looked deeper and reflected more I also saw a very important lesson. Joseph is exercising his ability and gift to speak some very powerful truths. This is not always easy. What is true may be inconvenient, it may get in the way of what other people think is true, it may not be what we want, and it’s general human nature to try not to hurt other people’s feelings. At the same time, speaking truth is a very powerful skill. It’s a very powerful step. For if we never speak the simple truth of what is, if we always package it, for whatever reason, wise or foolish, than we are simply not fully living what “is”, in some sense we’re not fully alive.

I want to bring up two more episodes of truth in Joseph’s life. He resists the attempts of Pharaoh’s wife to seduce him, and acts in integrity to his values. According to a midrash this was indeed a challenging test. He later has a much more complicated encounter with truth as his brothers come to Egypt asking for food. He recognizes them and has to excuse himself to cry, as the memories of being abandoned and sold into slavery, along with the shock of seeing family again, are so intense. However, he is much older now, much more experienced, and dresses the truth of who he is in many layers. There is much debate on whether the details of his actions were honest of wise, but its not what I want to focus on right now. There is midrash which speaks of the tremendous power of putting his brothers in a situation where they would have to face the truth of their past actions (selling their lilttle brother to slavery) and feel remorse. Then, in a very similar situation, but older and wiser, they have the chance to act with integrity and responsibility by protecting their other younger brother. This is tremendous t’shuva.

Joseph too was now much older in this last episode.  He had practiced the power of the simple blunt truth as a teenager, he held fast to his values as a young man in the palace, and he was now in a position to use, speak, and bring out truth in perhaps an even more powerful way.

I still have my concerns about his bluntness in the beginning, and the deceptive nature of his actions with the brothers in the end, but he was always calling out powerful powerful truths. Anything we want to build in this world, any area where we want to grow, anything we want to give… it all needs to come from truth, because it can only stand on truth.

I will bring this to a close by mentioning two Hebrew words I learned this week. The Hebrew word “oz”, which means strength or courage, can be connected to lehaiz (lamed, hey, ayin, yud, zain), which means to brave or to risk something. To tell the truth when it may hurt someone else, when it may be terrifying to us, is a risk that takes bravery and deep strength. At the same time, it gives back to us great strength, because truth is something we can stand firm on. It also offers back to us integrity and clarity, and builds trust in any relationship. However challenging, truth is something we can build on.

Joseph’s story reminds me of this, and is challenging me to think of where I do and don’t speak truth in my life, why and why not, when is it wise, and when is it not? Most importantly, how can I grow to speak truth with more wisdom? It also reminds me that the people I respect and admire most in my life are people who are humble and courageous enough to speak the truth any particular situation and of their personal lives. They do it, and they do it in a way that changes me.

May we all be blessed to be reminded of the power of speaking the truth, and of its gifts. May we all notice it more and more in ourselves, live from it, and support all those around us to tap into its potential.

Take care,

Mosheh

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