MOSHE RABBEINU AND PHARAOH - VA’EIRA

Parshas Va’eira describes in great detail the first seven of the ten plagues that brought Mitzrayim to its knees. A major feature of the Makkos is the behavior of Pharaoh in reaction to the destruction of his nation. When Moshe Rabbeinu and Aaron bring about the first plague of blood, the passuk tells us that Pharaoh was not impressed because his sorcerers could also turn water into blood: “..And Pharaoh hardened his heart and he did not listen to them..” The next passuk states that, “Pharaoh turned and went to his home, and also did not pay attention to this. ” The commentaries ask, what does the Torah refer to when it says that ‘he did not pay attention to this’ - the previous passuk already stated that Pharaoh did not listen to the arguments of Moshe and Aaron. The Netsiv zt”l explains that the second passuk is telling us that Pharaoh was also unmoved by the pain that his people were suffering through the plague, and did not seek out any ways in which he could ease their pain.

‘Dam’ was the only plague in which the Torah alludes to Pharaoh’s indifference to the suffering of his people - why is this the case? The Medrash, HaGadol provides the key to answering this question: “The wicked Pharaoh was not afflicted by the plague of blood. ” The plague of blood was the only one which did not harm Pharaoh. It was in this plague where he was most immune to the suffering that it caused his people because he did not experience the pain himself and so it was this plague where his apathy to the pain of his people was most pronounced.

We see a stark contrast to Pharaoh’s cruel indifference in the reaction of Moshe Rabbeinu to the pain of the Jewish people. Moshe grew up in the home of Pharaoh, separate from his people and unaffected by the slavery. Nonetheless, he went out and looked at the suffering of his brothers and empathized with their pain - he even persuaded Pharaoh to give them a day of rest .

The passukim that describe Moshe’s tremendous concern for his people are preceded by the words, “vayigdal Moshe.” This does not mean that he grew up because an earlier passuk already stated that. Thus, the commentaries explain that it refers to becoming a great person - and the indicator of that greatness was his concern for others . Why does davke this mida of empathy represent ‘gadlus’? Rav Shimon Shkop zt”l explains that a ‘Gadol’ is a person who expands his definition of self to include others - he is not considered a mere individual, rather part of a larger whole, and consequently he himself becomes a ‘bigger’ person . Pharaoh, in contrast, is described by the Gemara as being a very small person . The commentaries there explain that this refers to his spiritual standing - he was on a very low level . Perhaps one aspect of his lowliness was his apathy to the pain of his own people, he only cared about himself, and therefore he did not expand his self-definition beyond his own self and remained a ‘small’ person.

How can a person avoid the apathy of Pharaoh and emulate the concern of Moshe Rabbeinu - it is particularly difficult to empathize with people who are in a situation that does not effect us. When the passuk says that Moshe saw the suffering of his people, Rashi elaborates; “he focused his eyes and heart to feel pain for them. ” My Rebbi, Rav Yitzchak Berkovits Shlita explains that first he looked at their faces to see the pain that they were in. He then ’focused his heart’ by trying to relate to their pain, to feel what they were feeling. So too when we hear of a person in difficulty we should first try to notice their facial expressions in order to make real the pain that they are in. Secondly, we should try to feel what it must be like to be in such pain. In a similar vein, Rav Noach Orlowek shlita suggests for example, that when we hear of a terrorist attack in which people are killed, we should take out a few moments to imagine what the victims and their families must be going through. It is not enough to merely sigh and move on - we must strive to avoid becoming immune to other people’s pain.

Such empathy is not restricted to Jews who share the same lifestyle and outlook as us: Rav Chatzkel Levenstein zt”l taught this lesson in his shmussen in Ponevitz throughout the Six Day War. As the war began he told his talmidim, “in a time of war we must feel the danger of our soldiers. The loss of one Jewish soldier, even when measured against the destruction of thousands of our enemies, is incalculable. And for every soldier who arrives home from battle alive our joy must be unbounded.” After the victory he exhorted his talmidim to identify with the people who lost family in the conflict: “Hand-in-hand with our victory another reality was created; thousands of Jewish lives have been lost. How many thousands of families are bereft with a pain that is so great that it cannot now be consoled? How many dear ones have been killed? How much this must weigh upon every Jewish soul. How much must we feel their pain - actually feel it as our own. More than our rejoicing over our enemies we must feel the pain of our grieving brothers and sisters. ”

It is also instructive to make some kind of gesture to show that the suffering of our fellow Jew truly concerns us even if we cannot directly help them. During the Holocaust the Steipler Gaon zt”l undertook to give up smoking as a small token to show that the tremendous suffering of his brethren meant something to him. Whilst Rav Chaim Soloveitchik zt”l was Rav of Brisk half the city was burnt down leaving hundreds of Jews homeless. Rav Chaim promptly moved out of his home and slept on a bench in a beis medrash. When asked why he was doing so he exclaimed, “how can I sleep in a comfortable bed when so many people do not have a roof covering them?! ”

However, we also learn from Moshe Rabbeinu that it is not enough to merely feel bad for those in pain. The Medrash says that Moshe “would pitch in and help each of them, ignoring his rank, he would lighten their burderns while pretending to be helping Pharaoh. ” Similarly we must strive to help those in difficulty in any way that we can. Rav Frand Shlita suggests that the next time we hear that our friend is in a difficult situation we should see if there is any feasible way in which we can help him. If, for example, he lost his job, we can think if we know any contacts that may help him find new employment, or if he is looking for a shidduch then think of any possible matches for him.

Even if we cannot actively solve the person’s problem we can do a great chesed by being there for him and showing him that he is not alone in his pain. Rav Shach zt”l excelled in this area; on one occasion having heard about a widower who was depressed to the point that he had stopped functioning, Rav Shach decided to pay him a visit. Receiving no response to his knock Rav Shach let himself in and found the man lying motionless on the couch. “I know what you’re going through,” he said as he put his arm around the man. “I’m also a widower. My world is also dark and I have no simcha.” The man‘s eyes lit up for the first time in months. Someone understood him. “On Friday I’m going to make cholent and send it over, and on Shabbos I’ll come over and we’ll eat together.” “I can’t possibly allow you to trouble yourself like that,” protested the man. “Well, then you think of something. But either way I’m going to be back tomorrow. We need to spend some time together. ” Rav Shach gave this man hope because Rav Shach showed him that someone else understood the pain that he was going through - this in and of itself is one of the greatest chasadim we can do for someone in pain.

Indifference to the spiritual standing of our fellow man is perhaps even more objectionable than not caring about his physical situation. Rav Frand points out that it is very easy for an observant Jew who lives in an observant community to forget that the vast majority of Jews have no sense of Jewish identity and that every year several thousand are lost through intermarriage. He continues that we cannot say “Shalom aliyich nafshi’ - as long as I have my Torah education and live in a frum community then everything is alright. Rather we must feel that the spiritual Holocaust effects us as much as anyone else and that we must do something about it - whether it be to be in contact with a secular relative, strike up a friendly conversation with a non-observant colleague at work, or having people for Shabbos.

The main characters in the parshios of Yetsias Mitzrayim, Moshe Rabbeinu and Pharaoh, show us how greatness is defined by caring about others and katnus is a reflection of selfishness. May we all strive to emulate Moshe Rabbeinu.

THE PLAGUE OF FROGS - VA'EIRA

The second of the ten plagues was that of sefardaya, frogs. Rashi cites a Chazal that describes how this plague manifested itself; at first one single frog emerged from the river, and the Mitzrim tried to kill it by striking it. However, instead of harming it, it split into swarms of frogs each time it was struck until the frogs were so numerous that they inundated the land .

The Steipler Gaon zt"l sees a very great difficulty with this Chazal; the Mitzrim surely saw that the first time they hit the frog they did not succeed in destroying it, in fact their hitting had the opposite result, causing more frogs to emerge. Yet they continued to hit the frog many times, only succeeding in filling the whole of Mitzrayim with frogs! Why did they not learn their lesson and refrain from hitting the frog after they saw its disastrous results?

The Steipler answers with a principle about how the destructive midda (trait) of anger causes a person to act. When one is insulted he feels the need to avenge this treatment, therefore he responds in kind to the aggressor. The aggressor returns the insult, and he in turn feels the need to return the insult again, until both are subject to a vicious circle of fruitless retaliation and a full-blown quarrel erupts with harmful consequences for all involved. In a similar vein, when the Mitzrim were faced with this threatening frog, their instinctive reaction was to strike it, however when more frogs swarmed out of the initial frog, their anger was kindled and in response they wanted to avenge the frog by striking it again. When this failed again, they continued in their aggressive manner, continually striking the frog until their anger caused the whole of Mitzrayim to be engulfed with these pests. We learn from this explanation about the damaging nature of anger, and how it causes a person to act in a highly self-destructive manner .

It is instructive to delve deeper into why a person can act in such a seemingly foolish fashion. When a person is first insulted he feels considerable immediate pleasure by reacting in kind to the person who dared speak to him in such a rude way. However, after that immediate satisfaction, he endures a longer-term backlash which results in the negative feelings that are normally generated by arguments. Logically, it would seem that he should learn his lesson, recognize the long-term damage of reacting strongly, and control himself in a similar future scenario However, this does not normally occur, rather he continually falls into the same trap. His problem is that he has habituated himself to focus on the short-term results of his actions rather than its long-term consequences. It requires great effort and self-growth to break out of this damaging mode of behavior.

It seems that this problem of focusing on the immediate results occurs in many areas of Avodas Hashem with damaging results. The Medrash Tanchuma tells us a dramatic example of this phenomenon. There was a righteous man whose father was a hopeless alcoholic. On one occasion, the son saw a different drunkard lying in a sewer on the street. Youngsters around him were hitting him with stones and treating him in a highly degrading manner. When the son saw this pitiful site, he decided to bring his father to the scene in the hope that it would show the father the degradation that alcoholism causes. He brought his father to see the drunkard. What did his father do? He went to the drunkard and asked him which wine house did he drink the wine! The shocked son told his father that he brought him here to see the humiliation that this man was enduring so that his father would see how he appears when he himself was drunk, in the hope that it would cause him to stop drinking. His father replied that his greatest pleasure in life was drinking . It is very likely that the father was intellectually aware of the harm that his drinking caused him, however he was so preoccupied with the immediate pleasure it gave him, that he was blind to its overall damage.

The yetser hara's strategy of blinding a person to the long-term damage of his behavior is a very significant factor in hindering one's Avodas Hashem. Whether it be in the area of destructive responses or addictions, or any number of other areas, it is essential for a person to address this issue if he hopes to fulfill his potential. It seems that the first stage of this process is to develop an intellectual recognition that the mode of action or reaction that he has habituated himself to, is ultimately detrimental. Using the example of anger, a person must recognize that the short-term pleasure he feels after shouting at his wife, child or friend, is an illusionary pleasure created by the yetser hara and in the long-term it only harms his relationships.

The second stage is to anticipate situations of nisyonos (tests) before they occur so that he can intellectually prepare his response without being swept away with emotion b'shaas maaseh (at the time of the occurrence). Thus when he is insulted he can hopefully offset his natural reaction of anger with a calm countenance, based on his recognition that shouting in response will only aggravate the situation. This is no easy task, but in time one can hopefully internalize this intellectual awareness and react in a calm and measured fashion. The plague of the frogs gives us a vital insight into the destructive nature of anger and focusing on short-term results. May we learn the Steipler's lessons and control our reactions for the good.

LEARNING FROM THE FROGS - VA’EIRA

After the first plague of blood, Moshe Rabbeinu warned Pharaoh that if he continue to refuse Moshe’s request to let the Jewish people leave Egypt, then there would be a new plague: ”And the river will swarm with frogs; they will rise up and go into your homes, your bedrooms; onto your beds; and in the homes of your servants and your people; and into your ovens and your kneading bowls.” After Pharaoh’s refusal, the frogs did indeed swarm all over Egypt, including into the ovens of the Egyptians.

The Gemara tells us that several hundred years later, the actions of the frogs who entered the ovens served as a lesson to three great men; Chanania, Mishael and Azariah. They lived in Babylon under the rule of Nebuchadnezzar. He made a decree that everyone must bow to a statue in his image, and the punishment for not doing so was to be thrown into a fire. The law states that one must give up his life rather than worship idols, however, the commentaries explain that bowing to this image did not constitute actual idol worship. Therefore, technically speaking, it was permissible to bow to the image, and most of the Jewish people did so. However, Chanania, Mishael and Azariah learnt from the example of the frogs who went into the ovens in Egypt, that they too should be prepared to be thrown into a fire. They reasoned that the frogs who were not commanded in the Mitzvo of Kiddush HaShem (sanctification of G-d’s name), nonetheless were willing to go into a burning oven for the sake of sanctifying G-d’s name. All the more so (kal v’chomer), they, who, as human beings, were commanded in the Mitzvo of Kiddush HaShem, should be willing to be thrown into the fire.

The Darchei Mussar points out a great difficulty with this Gemara. The three men’s reasoning was based on the fact that the frogs were not commanded to die for the sake of Kiddush HaShem, whilst they were commanded to do so. However, Moshe’s informing of Pharaoh that the frogs would enter their ovens constituted a command for the frogs; accordingly the frogs were commanded to go into the ovens. That being the case, how could Chanania, Mishael and Azariah learn from the frogs that they should allow themselves to be thrown into a fire?!

He explains that whilst HaShem did command the frogs to go into the ovens, He did not restrict the command to ovens – the bedrooms, beds, and kneading bowls were included in the list of the places where the frogs could go to. Therefore, each frog had the choice as to where they would go – he could conceivably decide that he would choose the more comfortable option of going to the bed or kneading bowl. Nonetheless, many frogs did indeed choose to risk their lives in order to ensure that HaShem’s command was fulfilled. Since each individual frog was not commanded to go into the fire and yet many of them still did so, Chanania, Mishael and Azariah learnt that all the more so they should be prepared to be thrown into a fire.
The Darchei Mussar continues that we learn a fundamental lesson from the actions of the brave frogs who went into the ovens. It was possible for them to shift the responsibility onto other frogs, however they declined the comfortable option and as a result, contributed to the enhanced sanctification of G-d’s name. So too, he writes, that when a person is given the opportunity to perform a certain Mitzvo he should not seek to shirk the responsibility placed upon him by hoping that someone else will undertake the Mitzvo. Rather, he should view this as a golden chance to sanctify G-d’s name. Sadly, it is not uncommon for a person to tend to view such opportunities as burdens. This attitude seems to be fundamentally against the Torah outlook. The Torah strongly espouses taking responsibility when things need to be done. The Mishna in Avos states: “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” This applies in both minor daily occurrences and less common but more significant occasions. For example, there may be a general request for people to help in a certain endeavor, it is praiseworthy to assume the responsibility without waiting for others to do so. On a larger scale, there are numerous major problems facing the Jewish world today – instead of waiting for others to take responsibility to rectify these problems, a person should see if there is anything he can do himself. On one occasion, some American Torah students living in Israel discovered that a significant amount of Americans living in Israel were living in extreme poverty but were too ashamed to tell anyone. Rather than merely expressing sympathy for these people, a few men undertook to create a new charity (known as Got Chicken ) aimed at providing basic necessities for people in dire need.

We have seen how praiseworthy it is to take responsibility and avoid waiting for others to do so. If any more incentive is needed, the continuation of the story of the frogs shows what happened to the frogs who went into the ovens. After the plague stopped, the Torah states: “... the frogs died from the houses, from the courtyards and from the fields.” The Baal HaTurim and Daas Zekeinim point out that there is no mention of the deaths of the frogs who were in the ovens. They explain that they were spared as a reward for their self-sacrifice. We see from here that taking responsibility to do G-d’s will brings only good. May we all merit to take responsibility and reap the rewards.

LEARNING FROM THE FROGS - VA’EIRA

After the first plague of blood, Moshe Rabbeinu warned Pharaoh that if he continue to refuse Moshe’s request to let the Jewish people leave Egypt, then there would be a new plague: ”And the river will swarm with frogs; they will rise up and go into your homes, your bedrooms; onto your beds; and in the homes of your servants and your people; and into your ovens and your kneading bowls.” After Pharaoh’s refusal, the frogs did indeed swarm all over Egypt, including into the ovens of the Egyptians.

The Gemara tells us that several hundred years later, the actions of the frogs who entered the ovens served as a lesson to three great men; Chanania, Mishael and Azariah. They lived in Babylon under the rule of Nebuchadnezzar. He made a decree that everyone must bow to a statue in his image, and the punishment for not doing so was to be thrown into a fire. The law states that one must give up his life rather than worship idols, however, the commentaries explain that bowing to this image did not constitute actual idol worship. Therefore, technically speaking, it was permissible to bow to the image, and most of the Jewish people did so. However, Chanania, Mishael and Azariah learnt from the example of the frogs who went into the ovens in Egypt, that they too should be prepared to be thrown into a fire. They reasoned that the frogs who were not commanded in the Mitzvo of Kiddush HaShem (sanctification of G-d’s name), nonetheless were willing to go into a burning oven for the sake of sanctifying G-d’s name. All the more so (kal v’chomer), they, who, as human beings, were commanded in the Mitzvo of Kiddush HaShem, should be willing to be thrown into the fire.

The Darchei Mussar points out a great difficulty with this Gemara. The three men’s reasoning was based on the fact that the frogs were not commanded to die for the sake of Kiddush HaShem, whilst they were commanded to do so. However, Moshe’s informing of Pharaoh that the frogs would enter their ovens constituted a command for the frogs; accordingly the frogs were commanded to go into the ovens. That being the case, how could Chanania, Mishael and Azariah learn from the frogs that they should allow themselves to be thrown into a fire?!

He explains that whilst HaShem did command the frogs to go into the ovens, He did not restrict the command to ovens – the bedrooms, beds, and kneading bowls were included in the list of the places where the frogs could go to. Therefore, each frog had the choice as to where they would go – he could conceivably decide that he would choose the more comfortable option of going to the bed or kneading bowl. Nonetheless, many frogs did indeed choose to risk their lives in order to ensure that HaShem’s command was fulfilled. Since each individual frog was not commanded to go into the fire and yet many of them still did so, Chanania, Mishael and Azariah learnt that all the more so they should be prepared to be thrown into a fire.

The Darchei Mussar continues that we learn a fundamental lesson from the actions of the brave frogs who went into the ovens. It was possible for them to shift the responsibility onto another frog, however they declined the comfortable option and as a result, contributed to the enhanced sanctification of G-d’s name. So too, he writes, that when a person is given the opportunity to perform a certain Mitzvo he should not seek to shirk the responsibility placed upon him by hoping that someone else will undertake the Mitzvo. Rather, he should view this as a golden chance to sanctify G-d’s name. Sadly, it is not uncommon for a person to tend to view such opportunities as burdens. This attitude seems to be fundamentally against the Torah outlook. The Torah strongly espouses taking responsibility when things need to be done. The Mishna in Avos states: “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” This applies in both minor daily occurrences and less common but more significant occasions. For example, there may be a general request for people to help in a certain endeavor, it is praiseworthy to assume the responsibility without waiting for others to do so. On a larger scale, there are numerous major problems facing the Jewish world today – instead of waiting for others to take responsibility to rectify these problems,, a person should see if there is anything he can do himself. On one occasion, some American Torah students living in Israel discovered that a significant amount of Americans living in Israel were living in extreme poverty but were too ashamed to tell anyone. Rather than merely expressing sympathy for these people, a few men undertook to create a new charity (known as Got Chicken ) aimed at providing basic necessities for people in dire need.

We have seen how praiseworthy it is to take responsibility and avoid waiting for others to do so. If any more incentive is needed, the continuation of the story of the frogs shows what happened to the frogs who went into the ovens. After the plague stopped, the Torah states: “... the frogs died from the houses, from the courtyards and from the fields.” The Baal HaTurim and Daas Zekeinim point out that there is no mention of the deaths of the frogs who were in the ovens. They explain that they were spared as a reward for their self-sacrifice. We see from here that taking responsibility to do G-d’s will brings only good. May we all merit to take responsibility and reap the rewards.

MOSHE RABBEINU AND PHARAOH - VA’EIRA

Parshas Va’eira describes in great detail the first seven of the ten plagues that brought Mitzrayim to its knees. A major feature of the Makkos is the behavior of Pharaoh in reaction to the destruction of his nation. When Moshe Rabbeinu and Aaron bring about the first plague of blood, the passuk tells us that Pharaoh was not impressed because his sorcerers could also turn water into blood: “..And Pharaoh hardened his heart and he did not listen to them..” The next passuk states that, “Pharaoh turned and went to his home, and also did not pay attention to this. ” The commentaries ask, what does the Torah refer to when it says that ‘he did not pay attention to this’ - the previous passuk already stated that Pharaoh did not listen to the arguments of Moshe and Aaron. The Netsiv zt”l explains that the second passuk is telling us that Pharaoh was also unmoved by the pain that his people were suffering through the plague, and did not seek out any ways in which he could ease their pain.

‘Dam’ was the only plague in which the Torah alludes to Pharaoh’s indifference to the suffering of his people - why is this the case? The Medrash, HaGadol provides the key to answering this question: “The wicked Pharaoh was not afflicted by the plague of blood. ” The plague of blood was the only one which did not harm Pharaoh. It was in this plague where he was most immune to the suffering that it caused his people because he did not experience the pain himself and so it was this plague where his apathy to the pain of his people was most pronounced.

We see a stark contrast to Pharaoh’s cruel indifference in the reaction of Moshe Rabbeinu to the pain of the Jewish people. Moshe grew up in the home of Pharaoh, separate from his people and unaffected by the slavery. Nonetheless, he went out and looked at the suffering of his brothers and empathized with their pain - he even persuaded Pharaoh to give them a day of rest .

The passukim that describe Moshe’s tremendous concern for his people are preceded by the words, “vayigdal Moshe.” This does not mean that he grew up because an earlier passuk already stated that. Thus, the commentaries explain that it refers to becoming a great person - and the indicator of that greatness was his concern for others . Why does davke this mida of empathy represent ‘gadlus’? Rav Shimon Shkop zt”l explains that a ‘Gadol’ is a person who expands his definition of self to include others - he is not considered a mere individual, rather part of a larger whole, and consequently he himself becomes a ‘bigger’ person . Pharaoh, in contrast, is described by the Gemara as being a very small person . The commentaries there explain that this refers to his spiritual standing - he was on a very low level . Perhaps one aspect of his lowliness was his apathy to the pain of his own people, he only cared about himself, and therefore he did not expand his self-definition beyond his own self and remained a ‘small’ person.

How can a person avoid the apathy of Pharaoh and emulate the concern of Moshe Rabbeinu - it is particularly difficult to empathize with people who are in a situation that does not effect us. When the passuk says that Moshe saw the suffering of his people, Rashi elaborates; “he focused his eyes and heart to feel pain for them. ” My Rebbi, Rav Yitzchak Berkovits Shlita explains that first he looked at their faces to see the pain that they were in. He then ’focused his heart’ by trying to relate to their pain, to feel what they were feeling. So too when we hear of a person in difficulty we should first try to notice their facial expressions in order to make real the pain that they are in. Secondly, we should try to feel what it must be like to be in such pain. In a similar vein, Rav Noach Orlowek shlita suggests for example, that when we hear of a terrorist attack in which people are killed, we should take out a few moments to imagine what the victims and their families must be going through. It is not enough to merely sigh and move on - we must strive to avoid becoming immune to other people’s pain.

Such empathy is not restricted to Jews who share the same lifestyle and outlook as us: Rav Chatzkel Levenstein zt”l taught this lesson in his shmussen in Ponevitz throughout the Six Day War. As the war began he told his talmidim, “in a time of war we must feel the danger of our soldiers. The loss of one Jewish soldier, even when measured against the destruction of thousands of our enemies, is incalculable. And for every soldier who arrives home from battle alive our joy must be unbounded.” After the victory he exhorted his talmidim to identify with the people who lost family in the conflict: “Hand-in-hand with our victory another reality was created; thousands of Jewish lives have been lost. How many thousands of families are bereft with a pain that is so great that it cannot now be consoled? How many dear ones have been killed? How much this must weigh upon every Jewish soul. How much must we feel their pain - actually feel it as our own. More than our rejoicing over our enemies we must feel the pain of our grieving brothers and sisters. ”

It is also instructive to make some kind of gesture to show that the suffering of our fellow Jew truly concerns us even if we cannot directly help them. During the Holocaust the Steipler Gaon zt”l undertook to give up smoking as a small token to show that the tremendous suffering of his brethren meant something to him. Whilst Rav Chaim Soloveitchik zt”l was Rav of Brisk half the city was burnt down leaving hundreds of Jews homeless. Rav Chaim promptly moved out of his home and slept on a bench in a beis medrash. When asked why he was doing so he exclaimed, “how can I sleep in a comfortable bed when so many people do not have a roof covering them?! ”

However, we also learn from Moshe Rabbeinu that it is not enough to merely feel bad for those in pain. The Medrash says that Moshe “would pitch in and help each of them, ignoring his rank, he would lighten their burderns while pretending to be helping Pharaoh. ” Similarly we must strive to help those in difficulty in any way that we can. Rav Frand Shlita suggests that the next time we hear that our friend is in a difficult situation we should see if there is any feasible way in which we can help him. If, for example, he lost his job, we can think if we know any contacts that may help him find new employment, or if he is looking for a shidduch then think of any possible matches for him.

Even if we cannot actively solve the person’s problem we can do a great chesed by being there for him and showing him that he is not alone in his pain. Rav Shach zt”l excelled in this area; on one occasion having heard about a widower who was depressed to the point that he had stopped functioning, Rav Shach decided to pay him a visit. Receiving no response to his knock Rav Shach let himself in and found the man lying motionless on the couch. “I know what you’re going through,” he said as he put his arm around the man. “I’m also a widower. My world is also dark and I have no simcha.” The man‘s eyes lit up for the first time in months. Someone understood him. “On Friday I’m going to make cholent and send it over, and on Shabbos I’ll come over and we’ll eat together.” “I can’t possibly allow you to trouble yourself like that,” protested the man. “Well, then you think of something. But either way I’m going to be back tomorrow. We need to spend some time together. ” Rav Shach gave this man hope because Rav Shach showed him that someone else understood the pain that he was going through - this in and of itself is one of the greatest chasadim we can do for someone in pain.

Indifference to the spiritual standing of our fellow man is perhaps even more objectionable than not caring about his physical situation. Rav Frand points out that it is very easy for an observant Jew who lives in an observant community to forget that the vast majority of Jews have no sense of Jewish identity and that every year several thousand are lost through intermarriage. He continues that we cannot say “Shalom aliyich nafshi’ - as long as I have my Torah education and live in a frum community then everything is alright. Rather we must feel that the spiritual Holocaust effects us as much as anyone else and that we must do something about it - whether it be to be in contact with a secular relative, strike up a friendly conversation with a non-observant colleague at work, or having people for Shabbos.

The main characters in the parshios of Yetsias Mitzrayim, Moshe Rabbeinu and Pharaoh, show us how greatness is defined by caring about others and katnus is a reflection of selfishness. May we all strive to emulate Moshe Rabbeinu.

MOSHE RABBEINU AND PHARAOH - VA'EIRA

Parshas Va’eira describes in great detail the first seven of the ten plagues that brought Mitzrayim to its knees. A major feature of the Makkos is the behavior of Pharaoh in reaction to the destruction of his nation. When Moshe Rabbeinu and Aaron bring about the first plague of blood, the passuk tells us that Pharaoh was not impressed because his sorcerers could also turn water into blood: “..And Pharaoh hardened his heart and he did not listen to them..” The next passuk states that, “Pharaoh turned and went to his home, and also did not pay attention to this.” The commentaries ask, what does the Torah refer to when it says that ‘he did not pay attention to this’ - the previous passuk already stated that Pharaoh did not listen to the arguments of Moshe and Aaron. The Netsiv zt”l explains that the second passuk is telling us that Pharaoh was also unmoved by the pain that his people were suffering through the plague, and did not seek out any ways in which he could ease their pain.

‘Dam’ was the only plague in which the Torah alludes to Pharaoh’s indifference to the suffering of his people - why is this the case? The Medrash, HaGadol provides the key to answering this question: “The wicked Pharaoh was not afflicted by the plague of blood.” The plague of blood was the only one which did not harm Pharaoh. It was in this plague where he was most immune to the suffering that it caused his people because he did not experience the pain himself and so it was this plague where his apathy to the pain of his people was most pronounced.

We see a stark contrast to Pharaoh’s cruel indifference in the reaction of Moshe Rabbeinu to the pain of the Jewish people. Moshe grew up in the home of Pharaoh, separate from his people and unaffected by the slavery. Nonetheless, he went out and looked at the suffering of his brothers and empathized with their pain - he even persuaded Pharaoh to give them a day of rest.

The passukim that describe Moshe’s tremendous concern for his people are preceded by the words, “vayigdal Moshe.” This does not mean that he grew up because an earlier passuk already stated that. Thus, the commentaries explain that it refers to becoming a great person - and the indicator of that greatness was his concern for others. Why does davke this mida of empathy represent ‘gadlus’? Rav Shimon Shkop zt”l explains that a ‘Gadol’ is a person who expands his definition of self to include others - he is not considered a mere individual, rather part of a larger whole, and consequently he himself becomes a ‘bigger’ person. Pharaoh, in contrast, is described by the Gemara as being a very small person. The commentaries there explain that this refers to his spiritual standing - he was on a very low level. Perhaps one aspect of his lowliness was his apathy to the pain of his own people, he only cared about himself, and therefore he did not expand his self-definition beyond his own self and remained a ‘small’ person.

How can a person avoid the apathy of Pharaoh and emulate the concern of Moshe Rabbeinu - it is particularly difficult to empathize with people who are in a situation that does not effect us. When the passuk says that Moshe saw the suffering of his people, Rashi elaborates; “he focused his eyes and heart to feel pain for them.” My Rebbi, Rav Yitzchak Berkovits Shlita explains that first he looked at their faces to see the pain that they were in. He then ’focused his heart’ by trying to relate to their pain, to feel what they were feeling. So too when we hear of a person in difficulty we should first try to notice their facial expressions in order to make real the pain that they are in. Secondly, we should try to feel what it must be like to be in such pain. In a similar vein, Rav Noach Orlowek shlita suggests for example, that when we hear of a terrorist attack in which people are killed, we should take out a few moments to imagine what the victims and their families must be going through. It is not enough to merely sigh and move on - we must strive to avoid becoming immune to other people’s pain.

Such empathy is not restricted to Jews who share the same lifestyle and outlook as us: Rav Chatzkel Levenstein zt”l taught this lesson in his shmussen in Ponevitz throughout the Six Day War. As the war began he told his talmidim, “in a time of war we must feel the danger of our soldiers. The loss of one Jewish soldier, even when measured against the destruction of thousands of our enemies, is incalculable. And for every soldier who arrives home from battle alive our joy must be unbounded.” After the victory he exhorted his talmidim to identify with the people who lost family in the conflict: “Hand-in-hand with our victory another reality was created; thousands of Jewish lives have been lost. How many thousands of families are bereft with a pain that is so great that it cannot now be consoled? How many dear ones have been killed? How much this must weigh upon every Jewish soul. How much must we feel their pain - actually feel it as our own. More than our rejoicing over our enemies we must feel the pain of our grieving brothers and sisters.”

It is also instructive to make some kind of gesture to show that the suffering of our fellow Jew truly concerns us even if we cannot directly help them. During the Holocaust the Steipler Gaon zt”l undertook to give up smoking as a small token to show that the tremendous suffering of his brethren meant something to him. Whilst Rav Chaim Soloveitchik zt”l was Rav of Brisk half the city was burnt down leaving hundreds of Jews homeless. Rav Chaim promptly moved out of his home and slept on a bench in a beis medrash. When asked why he was doing so he exclaimed, “how can I sleep in a comfortable bed when so many people do not have a roof covering them?!”
However, we also learn from Moshe Rabbeinu that it is not enough to merely feel bad for those in pain. The Medrash says that Moshe “would pitch in and help each of them, ignoring his rank, he would lighten their burderns while pretending to be helping Pharaoh.” Similarly we must strive to help those in difficulty in any way that we can. Rav Frand Shlita suggests that the next time we hear that our friend is in a difficult situation we should see if there is any feasible way in which we can help him. If, for example, he lost his job, we can think if we know any contacts that may help him find new employment, or if he is looking for a shidduch then think of any possible matches for him.

Even if we cannot actively solve the person’s problem we can do a great chesed by being there for him and showing him that he is not alone in his pain. Rav Shach zt”l excelled in this area; on one occasion having heard about a widower who was depressed to the point that he had stopped functioning, Rav Shach decided to pay him a visit. Receiving no response to his knock Rav Shach let himself in and found the man lying motionless on the couch. “I know what you’re going through,” he said as he put his arm around the man. “I’m also a widower. My world is also dark and I have no simcha.” The man‘s eyes lit up for the first time in months. Someone understood him. “On Friday I’m going to make cholent and send it over, and on Shabbos I’ll come over and we’ll eat together.” “I can’t possibly allow you to trouble yourself like that,” protested the man. “Well, then you think of something. But either way I’m going to be back tomorrow. We need to spend some time together.” Rav Shach gave this man hope because Rav Shach showed him that someone else understood the pain that he was going through - this in and of itself is one of the greatest chasadim we can do for someone in pain.

Indifference to the spiritual standing of our fellow man is perhaps even more objectionable than not caring about his physical situation. Rav Frand points out that it is very easy for an observant Jew who lives in an observant community to forget that the vast majority of Jews have no sense of Jewish identity and that every year several thousand are lost through intermarriage. He continues that we cannot say “Shalom aliyich nafshi’ - as long as I have my Torah education and live in a frum community then everything is alright. Rather we must feel that the spiritual Holocaust effects us as much as anyone else and that we must do something about it - whether it be to be in contact with a secular relative, strike up a friendly conversation with a non-observant colleague at work, or having people for Shabbos.

The main characters in the parshios of Yetsias Mitzrayim, Moshe Rabbeinu and Pharaoh, show us how greatness is defined by caring about others and katnus is a reflection of selfishness. May we all strive to emulate Moshe Rabbeinu.
　

THE PLAGUE OF FROGS - VA'EIRA

The second of the ten plagues was that of sefardaya, frogs. Rashi cites Chazal that describes how this plague manifested itself; at first one single frog emerged from the river, and the Mitzrim tried to kill it by striking it. However, instead of harming it, it split into swarms of frogs each time it was struck until the frogs were so numerous that they inundated the land.

The Steipler Gaon zt"l sees a very great difficulty with this Chazal; the Mitzrim surely saw that the first time they hit the frog did not succeed in destroying it, in fact their hitting had the opposite result, causing more frogs to emerge. Yet they continued to hit the frog many times, only succeeding in filling the whole of Mitzrayim with frogs! Why did they not learn their lesson and refrain from hitting the frog after they saw its disastrous results?

The Steipler answers with a principle about how the destructive midda (trait) of anger causes a person to act. When one is insulted he feels the need to avenge this treatment, therefore he responds in kind to the aggressor. The aggressor returns the insult, and he in turn feels the need to return the insult again, until both are subject to a vicious circle of fruitless retaliation and a full-blown quarrel erupts with harmful consequences for all involved. In a similar vein, when the Mitzrim were faced with this threatening frog, their instinctive reaction was to strike it, however when more frogs swarmed out of the initial frog, their anger was kindled and in response they wanted to avenge the frog by striking it again. When this failed again, they continued in their aggressive manner, continually striking the frog until their anger caused the whole of Mitzrayim to be engulfed with these pests. We learn from this explanation about the damaging nature of anger, and how it causes a person to act in a highly self-destructive manner.

It is instructive to delve deeper into why a person can act in such a seemingly foolish fashion. When a person is first insulted he feels considerable immediate pleasure by reacting in kind to the person who dared speak to him in such a rude way. However, after that immediate satisfaction, he endures a longer-term backlash which results in the negative feelings that are normally generated by arguments. Logically, it would seem that he should learn his lesson, recognize the long-term damage of reacting strongly, and control himself in a similar future scenario However, this does not normally occur, rather he continually falls into the same trap. His problem is that he has habituated himself to focus on the short-term results of his actions rather than its long-term consequences. It requires great effort and self-growth to break out of this damaging mode of behavior.

It seems that this problem of focusing on the immediate results occurs in many areas of Avodas Hashem with damaging results. The Medrash Tanchuma tells us a dramatic example of this phenomenon. There was a righteous man whose father was a hopeless alcoholic. On one occasion, the son saw a different drunkard lying in a sewer on the street. Youngsters around him were hitting him with stones and treating him in a highly degrading manner. When the son saw this pitiful site, he decided to bring his father to the scene in the hope that it would show the father the degradation that alcoholism causes. He brought his father to see the drunkard. What did his father do? He went to the drunkard and asked him which wine house did he drink the wine! The shocked son told his father that he brought him here to see the humiliation that this man was enduring so that his father would see how he appears when he himself was drunk, in the hope that it would cause him to stop drinking. His father replied that his greatest pleasure in life was drinking. It is very likely that the father was intellectually aware of the harm that his drinking caused him, however he was so preoccupied with the immediate pleasure it gave him, that he was blind to its overall damage.

The yetser hara's strategy of blinding a person to the long-term damage of his behavior is a very significant factor in hindering one's Avodas Hashem. Whether it be in the area of destructive responses or addictions, or any number of other areas, it is essential for a person to address this issue if he hopes to fulfill his potential. It seems that the first stage of this process is to develop an intellectual recognition that the mode of action or reaction that he has habituated himself to, is ultimately detrimental. Using the example of anger, a person must recognize that the short-term pleasure he feels after shouting at his wife, child or friend, is an illusionary pleasure created by the yetser hara and in the long-term it only harms his relationships.

The second stage is to anticipate situations of nisyonos before they occur so that he can intellectually prepare his response without being swept away with emotion b'shaas maaseh. Thus when he is insulted he can hopefully offset his natural reaction of anger with a calm countenance, based on his recognition that shouting in response will only aggravate the situation. This is no easy task, but in time one can hopefully internalize this intellectual awareness and react in s calm and measured fashion. The plague of the frogs gives us a vital insight into the destructive nature of anger and focusing on short-term results. May we learn the Steipler's lessons and control

Moshe Rabbeinu and Pharaoh - Va'era

Parshas Va’eira describes in great detail the first seven of the ten plagues that brought Mitzrayim to its knees.  A major feature of the Plagues is the behavior of Pharaoh in reaction to the destruction of his nation.  When Moshe Rabbeinu and Aaron bring about the first plague of blood, the passuk tells us that Pharaoh was not impressed because his sorcerers could also turn water into blood: “..And Pharaoh hardened his heart and he did not listen to them..”  The next verse states that, “Pharaoh turned and went to his home, and also did not pay attention to this.^[1]”  The commentaries ask, what does the Torah refer to when it says that ‘he did not pay attention to this’ - the previous verse already stated that  Pharaoh did not listen to the arguments of Moshe and Aaron.  One of the later Torah commentators, the Netsiv zt”l explains that the second verse is telling us that Pharaoh was also unmoved by the pain that his people were suffering through the plague, and did not seek out any ways in which he could ease their pain. 

 

The plague of blood was the only plague in which the Torah alludes to Pharaoh’s indifference to the suffering of his people - why is this the case?  The Medrash HaGadol provides the key to answering this question: “The wicked Pharaoh was not afflicted by the plague of blood.^[2]”  The plague of blood was the only one which did not harm Pharaoh.  It was in this plague where he was most immune to the suffering that it caused his people because he did not experience the pain himself and so it was this plague where his apathy to the pain of his people was most pronounced.

 

We see a stark contrast to Pharaoh’s cruel indifference in the reaction of Moshe Rabbeinu to the pain of the Jewish people.  Moshe grew up in the home of Pharaoh, separate from his people and unaffected but he slavery.  Nonetheless, he went out and looked at the suffering of his brothers and empathized with their pain^[3] - he even persuaded Pharaoh to give them a day of rest^[4]. 

 

The verses that describe Moshe’s tremendous concern for his people are  preceded by the words, “vayigdal Moshe.”  This does not mean that he grew up because an earlier verse already stated that.  Thus, the commentaries explain that it refers to becoming a great person - and the indicator of that greatness was his concern for others^[5].  Why does the trait of empathy in particular represent ‘gadlus’ (greatness)?   One of the great Rabbis in the first half of the 20^th century, Rabbi Shimon Shkop zt”l explains that a ‘Gadol’ is a person who expands his definition of self to include others - he is not considered a mere individual, rather part of a larger whole, and consequently he himself becomes a ‘bigger’ person^[6].  Pharaoh, in contrast, is described by the Gemara as being a very small person^[7].   The commentaries there explain that this refers to his spiritual standing - he was on a very low level^[8]. Perhaps one aspect of his lowliness was his apathy to the pain of his own people, he only cared about himself, and therefore he did not expand his self-definition beyond his own self and remained a ‘small’ person.

 

How can a person avoid the apathy of Pharaoh and emulate the concern of Moshe Rabbeinu - it is particularly difficult to empathize with people who are in a situation that does not effect us.  When the verse says the Moshe saw the suffering of his people, Rashi elaborates; “he focused his eyes and heart to feel pain for them.^[9]”  My Rebbi, Rabbi Yitzchak Berkovits Shlita explains that first he looked at their faces to see the pain that they were in.  He then ’focused his heart’ by trying to relate to their pain, to feel what they were feeling.  So too when we hear of a person in difficulty we should first try to notice their facial expressions in order to make real the pain that they are in.  Secondly, we should try to feel what it must be like to be in such pain.  In a similar vein, for example, that when we hear of a terrorist attack in which people are killed, we should take out a few moments to imagine what the victims and their families must be going through.  It is not enough to merely sigh and move on - we must strive to avoid becoming immune to other people’s pain.

 

Such empathy is not restricted to Jews who share the same lifestyle and outlook as us:  Rabbi Yechezkel Levenstein^[10] zt”l taught this lesson in his talks in Ponevitz throughout the Six Day War.  As the way began he told his talmidim, “in a time of war we must feel the danger of our soldiers.  The loss of one Jewish soldier, even when measured against the destruction of thousands of our enemies, is incalculable.  And for every soldier who arrives home from battle alive our joy must be unbounded.”  After the victory he exhorted his talmidim to identify with the people who lost family in the conflict:  “Hand-in-hand with our victory another reality was created; thousands of Jewish lives have been lost.  How many thousands of families are bereft with a pain that is so great that it cannot now be consoled?  How many dear ones have been killed?  How much this must weigh upon every Jewish soul.  How much must we feel their pain - actually feel it as our own.  More than our rejoicing over our enemies we must feel the pain of our grieving brothers and sisters.^[11]”

 

It is also instructive to make some kind of gesture to show that the suffering of our fellow Jew truly concerns us even if we cannot directly help them.  During the Holocaust the Steipler Gaon^[12] zt”l undertook to give up smoking as a small token to show that the tremendous suffering of his brethren meant something to him.  Whilst Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik^[13] zt”l was Rabbi of Brisk half the city was burnt down leaving hundreds of Jews homeless.  Rav Chaim promptly moved out of his home and slept on a bench in a beis medrash.  When asked why he was doing so he exclaimed, “how can I sleep in a comfortable bed when so many people do not have a roof covering them?!^[14]”

 

This message is most apt at a time when the Jewish people find themselves engulfed in conflict, with enemies striving to destroy our  lives.  Many of us are fortunate to be out of range of the missiles that rain down on Israel, but we can still do our utmost to feel the pain of our fellow Jews who are in such danger.

 

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^[1]   Va’eira, 6:22-23.

^[2]   Medrash HaGadol, Shemos, 7:29.

^[3]   Shemos, 2:11.

^[4]   Shemos Rabbah, 1:27. This comparison of Moshe to Pharaoh was heard from Rav Moshe Zeldman Shlita, senoir lecturer for Aish HaTorah, Yerushalayim.

^[5]   Shaarei Simcha; also heard from Rav Yissochor Frand Shlita.

^[6]   Hakdama to Shaar Yosher.

^[7]   Moed Katan, 18a.

^[8]   Iyun Yaakov, ibid.

^[9]   Shemos, 2:11.

^[10] The Mashgiach (spiritual leader) of two of the great Yeshivos, Meer and Ponovech.

^[11] Kasnett, ‘Reb Chatzkel’, p.344.

^[12] One of the ‘Gedolim’ in the second half of the 20^th Century.

^[13] One of the ‘Gedolim’ in the first half of the 20^th Century.

^[14]  Heard from Rav Yissochor Frand Shlita.