New Acharon shel Pesach verter.
8. The Art of Prayer: Tefilla Altering Lesson From Rav Yerucham Levovitz
ופרעה הקריב וישאו בני ישראל את עיניהם והנה מצרים נסע אחריהם וייראו מאד ויצעקו בני ישראל אל ה’
Pharaoh drew near, and the Children of Israel lifted up their eyes, and behold! Egypt was traveling after them. They were very frightened, and the Children of Israel cried out to Hashem (Shemos 14:10).
Based on the word “Vayitzaku – And they cried out,” Rashi explains that the Jews seized the art of their ancestors and davened to Hashem. He then brings proofs from the verses about Avraham (Bereishis 19:27), Yitzchak (ibid. 24:63), and Yaakov (ibid. 28:11) that our Patriarchs also prayed.
We are all familiar with emotions that evoke a cry of prayer. When confronted by tragedy or great need, we turn to Hashem in desperation. Sitting in a waiting room outside an intensive care unit, one sees firsthand the truth in the maxim: There is no atheist in a foxhole. The prayers said at these stressful times flow easily, from deep within the heart.
But what of the prayers on an ordinary day, with the dogs at bay and the waters still? What posture and attitude do we need to take then?
We are faced with another question. Why does Rashi need to tell us that the Jews followed the practice of their forefathers? Is something gained by this comparison?
Rav Yerucham Levovitz (Daas Torah on Beshalach) suggests that this comparison teaches us something both fundamental and critical about the nature of our tefillos.
The first pasuk (Bereishis 19:27) brought in Rashi describes the day after Avraham’s heartfelt petition on behalf of Sodom. After his petition was declined, Avraham went back the next day to pray at the same place. This is proof, writes Rashi, that Avraham had a practice to pray. But it was not for anything special.
The second pasuk (ibid. 24:63) finds Yitzchak going out in the late afternoon to pray in the field. Again, there was no special motivating event prompting his prayer; it was just his practice.
The third pasuk (ibid. 28:11) describes Yaakov praying while on the way to his uncle Lavan. Rashi tells us (V. 17) that Yaakov could not allow himself to pass the site of the future holy Temple without praying: “After all, my forebears prayed at that site.” Here, too, this was not at a time of despair.
None of their prayers were prompted by an impending crisis or threat, but tefillah comprised their daily routine. In fact, the Gemara (Berachos 26b) cites these pesukim as the source of our Patriarchs’ institution of daily prayer.
How can their prayers be compared with that of the Bnei Yisrael, who were surrounded in every direction – with a merciless desert on two sides, the sea in the front, and the point of a spear to the rear – and had no choice but to cry out to Hashem? In what sense can we say that they seized the art of their ancestors?
What we must say, writes Rav Yerucham, is that the Avos had the same desperation in their daily prayers as Bnei Yisrael had in their outcry for mercy and compassion at the edge of the Yam Suf.
At that time, we understood that our lives were on the line, and there was nowhere else to turn; that is the way the Avos lived every day. For them, prayer – with the greatest kavanah – was not just another mitzvah that had to be done; it was a lifesaving act. Even without any specific threat, we must beseech Him for our very existence.
This is the lesson of Rashi. Our challenge is to see this truth, for then we can follow in the ways of our Patriarchs.
9 . Order of Operations: Cute Pshat in Az Yashir –though with no real lesson
אמר אויב ארדף אשיג אחלק שלל תמלאמו נפשי אריק חרבי תורישמו ידי
The enemy said, “I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the booty; my desire will be filled from them; I will draw my sword, my hand will impoverish them” (Shemos 15:9).
This pasuk in Az Yashir quotes Pharaoh as he rallied his troops to chase after Bnei Yisrael. In the sefer Kehillas Yitzchak (Beshalach, p. 68), Rav Yitzchak Reitbard points out that the sequence in the pasuk does not seem to be correct.
After the enemy said, “Erdof asig – I will pursue, I will overtake,” we would not expect him to say, “Achaleik shallal – I will divide the booty.” How can the spoils of war be taken before the actual fighting?
Next, he said, “Timla’eimo nafshi – My desire will be filled from them.” How could his desire be satisfied before his soldiers drew their swords, which is only mentioned in the subsequent phrase: “Arik charbi – I will draw my sword”?
The last phrase is: “Torisheimo yadi – My hand will impoverish them.” This phrase speaks about what ensues toward the end of a battle; we subdue, overcome, and impoverish the enemy. But this is also only mentioned after the enemies have wiped out the opposition and taken the spoils. How can this be?
This is the way we would have expected Pharaoh to state his plans: “First, we will pursue and overtake (Erdof asig). Next, we will draw our swords (Arik charbi). Then, after a heated battle, our hand will impoverish them as we gain the upper hand (Torisheimo yadi). With the tide in our favor, our desire will be fulfilled through them (Timla’eimo nafshi). And only then will we divide the spoils (Achaleik shallal).”
The Kehillas Yitzchak quotes Rav Moshe Yitzchak of Ponovezh, who explains this in a clever way. In Parashas Bo, after receiving the warning regarding Makkas Arbeh, the Plague of Locusts, Pharaoh seemed to relent and asked Moshe, “Mi va’mi haholchim – Who will go?” (Shemos 10:8).
Moshe responded, “Bine’ureinu u’vi’zekeineinu neileich be’vaneinu u’vi’venoseinu be’tzoneinu u’vi’vekareinu neileich – We will go with our youth and with our old, with our sons and with our daughters, with our flocks and with our herds will we go” (ibid. V.9).
The order of those going out also seems incorrect. Why were the youth placed before the old – the bachurim before their elders, their roshei yeshivah?
The pshat is that they were going into a desert, an unpredictable and often hostile environment. Therefore, the Yidden had to be prepared for all eventualities. With this in mind, they put the youth, in the prime of their strength and the most capable in the event of hostilities, at the front. Behind them were the elders, who, although past their prime, were still able to fight. Behind them were the sons and daughters, the young children. And in the rear were the most vulnerable, the animals.
For safety’s sake, they went out from strongest to weakest. But Pharaoh planned on attacking from behind. Thus, when rallying his troops, he described what would occur based on the order that Moshe had given him.
First, the Mitzrim would catch up to the animals, which were in the back. We know from the Gemara (Bechoros 5b) that the animals carried the riches that the Jews had taken from Egypt. That’s why the first step, after chasing and overtaking them, was: “Achaleik shallal – I will divide the booty.” Pharaoh planned on reaching the spoils that were being carried by the animals, even before any real fighting began.
Then they would come up to the children, the sons and daughters, and capture them. For this reason, it says next, “Timla’eimo nafshi –My desire will be filled from them.” By taking the children captive, they would satisfy their desire, even without drawing their swords.
Then the Egyptians would come up to the elders and the youth, the frontline troops. For this part of the plan, they would have to draw their swords: “Arik charbi – I will draw my sword.”
Finally, after a heated and protracted battle, they would subdue the Yidden: “Torisheimo yadi – My hand will impoverish them.”
Pharaoh, a wise and cunning general, used Moshe’s words to develop a strategic battle plan. However, Bnei Yisrael had the ultimate Warrior on their side.
“Eileh va’rechev ve’eileh va’susim va’anachnu be’Sheim Hashem Elokeinu nazkir – Some with chariots, and some with horses; but we in the Name of Hashem, our G-d, call out” (Tehillim 20:8).
10. A Split for a Split: BEAUTIFUL LESSON Connection of Avraham Splitting the Wood for Akeida and Hashem Splitting The sea
וישכם אברהם בבקר ויחבש את חמרו ויקח את שני נעריו אתו ואת יצחק בנו ויבקע עצי עולה
And Avraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his donkey and took two of his young men with him, and Yitzchak his son, and split the wood for the burnt offering (Bereishis 22:3).
It says in the Midrash (Shemos Rabbah 21:8) that years later, when the Jews were leaving Mitzrayim, Hashem said, “Bizechus Avraham Ani bokea lahem es hayam baavur mah she’asah she’ne’emar, ‘Vayevaka atzei olah,’ ve’omer, ‘Vayibaku hamayim.” Rabbi Banya says that it was in the merit of Avraham that Hashem split the sea for the Jews. Before the Akeidah, it says that Avraham split the wood for the offering, and at Krias Yam Suf, the pasuk says that Hashem split the sea – both times with the shoresh of בקע .
What is the middah keneged middah? The magnitude of Avraham’s merit shouldn’t lie in his splitting the wood, but rather in the culmination of the Akeidah, where he tied down his son and brought the knife to bear. Chopping the wood seems incidental to the greatness of the act later on, where he showed his willingness to slaughter his own son at the request of Hashem. Is the Midrash merely using the play on the same word to reference the Akeidah of Yitzchak as a whole, or is there a correlation between splitting the wood and splitting the sea?
Rav Shmuel Vitzik of Baltimore told me the following thought, which he heard directly from Rav Yehoshua Leib Diskin. The Gemara writes that it is easier to carry ten kav (a dry measure) of gold than ten kav of straw. While both weigh the same amount, the gold – with its denser mass – is compact and manageable. That amount of straw, on the other hand, is very bulky; carrying it is both awkward and cumbersome.
If so, why did Avraham chop the wood before embarking on what was to be a three-day trip? The pasuk cited above finds Avraham preparing the wood the very morning he and his party left. Schlepping a bag of chopped wood is more unwieldy than taking an intact log. It would have been easier to take a whole log and do the chopping upon arriving at the as-of-yet unknown destination.
What’s the problem with that scenario? Avraham would take out his trusty hatchet. As Yitzchak looked on, he would carefully chop up the log and then set up the wood on the altar that he built. As willing as Yitzchak may have been to give his life for Hashem, there would still be an element reminiscent of what is known as inuy hadin – not prolonging the mental anguish.
In order to be more compassionate toward his son, Avraham chopped the wood before leaving. He was willing to take on the extra hassle of carrying the cut wood, which was bulkier, in order to alleviate the distress his son would experience were Avraham to chop it on-site.
This same compassion was in play when Hashem split the Yam Suf. Rav Tzvi Pesach brings a Midrash that says that initially Hashem intended to have the water recede as the Yidden walked in. They would walk in the water for the distance of one foot, and the water would recede one foot. They’d take another step, and the water would again back up. Says the Midrash that the compassion of Hashem overcame and He split the water from beginning to end.
Were the water to back up as they progressed, the Yidden would have still been terrified. Although they were witnessing the ongoing miracle of the water receding, they would have faced a mountain of water, and they would always worry if the miracle will continue. There would have been an element of constant dread – inuy hadin. By splitting the sea all the way through, Hashem assured them that the path would stay open.
The Midrash says: In the merit of Avraham splitting the wood before his trip, making it more difficult on himself in order to alleviate the stress of another, Hashem split the water in a way that also alleviated the stress of others. Interestingly, although one Midrash says that Avraham made two cuts of wood, others say that there were 12 cuts. Therefore, the water split into 12 separate paths for the Yidden, as a reward for the 12 pieces that Avraham made.
We see that it wasn’t just the splitting that Hashem did for Avraham’s children in the merit of his splitting, but the compassion with which He did the action; this was the reward for Avraham’s display of compassion toward his son.
11. Actions Speak Louder than Words: Why Were We Told Not To Cry To Hashem By Yam Suf
ויאמר ה’ אל משה מה תצעק אלי דבר אל בני ישראל ויסעו
Hashem said to Moshe, “Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the Children of Israel and let them journey” (Shemos 14:15).
The Ohr HaChaim and other mefarshim ask several questions on this pasuk. First: Why did Hashem say to Moshe, “Why do you cry out to Me?” To whom should Moshe cry out in prayer if not Hashem? Certainly in times of trouble crying out to Hashem is most appropriate, as we see from Yonah (2:3), “Karasi mi’tzarah li — I called in my distress,” and from Tehillim (118:5), “Min hameitzar karasi Kah — From the straits I called upon Hashem.”
In addition, as Rashi says, Hashem told Moshe that now is not the time for a prolonged tefillah. In this regard, as long as the trouble persists and one’s prayers have not been answered, tefillah ought to remain the order of the day. In truth, it seems as if Moshe’s tefillah actually did save the day. For in the next pasuk (v.16), Hashem told Moshe to raise his staff and split the sea. Why tell him to stop his tefillos when they seem to have elicited the favorable response from Hashem?
Finally, what did Hashem mean when He instructed Moshe to tell Bnei Yisrael to travel? Where were they supposed to go? Behind them were the Egyptians, before them was an uncross-able sea; if He meant after the sea had split, Hashem should have first told Moshe to raise his staff, split the sea, and only then tell Yisrael to travel through the now-dry land.
The Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh explains that at the time that Moshe was davening for Yisrael, there was a counterargument from the middas hadin, claiming that Bnei Yisrael were unworthy of having the water split for them. The Ohr HaChaim cites the Zohar (170b), which tells of how the middas hadin came with the claim that the Jews are no better than the Egyptians, and why do they deserve to be redeemed.
The Ohr HaChaim then tells us that at such times, where middas hadin is against us, tefillos alone will not work; rather, maasim tovim, good deeds, are required to evoke middas harachamim. Hashem thus said to Moshe, “Why do you cry out to Me? As much as I want to perform a miracle, the middas haddin does not allow it. Therefore, speak to Bnei Yisrael and let them travel.”
Only after Bnei Yisrael strengthened themselves with emunah and bitachon — by going into the sea before it was split — could the middas harachamim overpower the middas hadin, enabling Moshe to raise his staff and split the sea. As the Ohr HaChaim concludes, this played itself out when Nachshon ben Aminadav entered the water until it reached his neck. Once the water was at the point of “Ki va’u mayim ad nafesh — For the waters have reached into the soul” (Tehillim 69:2), the sea finally split.
While it’s true that we need to call out to Hashem in times of need, and Moshe was correct in crying out to Hashem and davening for rescue, at that critical time Bnei Yisrael had to actively demonstrate their bitachon. For that was when they became worthy of miracles and wonders.
Perhaps this can be compared to two of the commandments found in Parashas Bo: korban Pesach and bris milah. Rashi (Shemos 12:6) teaches us that only in the merit of the blood of the korban Pesach and the blood of the bris milah were Bnei Yisrael worthy of redemption. However, as we know, Bnei Yisrael had other zechuyos in whose merit they were redeemed: They did not change their names but maintained their Jewish ones; they did not change their language, but continued to speak Lashon HaKodesh; they did not speak lashon hara; and they did not sin in regard to arayos, forbidden relationships (Vayikra Rabbah 32:5). Then why were the two mitzvos of korban Pesach and milah necessary?
Perhaps here, too, at the time in which all the Egyptian firstborn died, middas hadin could have presented the same argument as was made prior to Krias Yam Suf: Why are these better than those? Why don’t the firstborn of the Jews die, too? To offset such an indictment, Hashem had to provide Yisrael with the type of mitzvos that would elicit middas harachamim on their behalf. For this reason, He gave them two mitzvos that have at their core an element of faith and self-sacrifice: dam Pesach, where they openly slaughtered and consumed the Egyptian deity, and dam milah, where they inflicted pain upon themselves for the sake of Hashem. In the zechus of these acts, they were worthy of being saved.
***
Rav Meir Simchah of Dvinsk (Meshech Chochmah ad loc.) has a different take on the specific action required on the part of Bnei Yisrael at the time of Krias Yam Suf. Up to this point, Moshe had stood at the front and Bnei Yisrael had followed him, like sheep following a shepherd. The time had come, though, for Moshe to take a backseat with Bnei Yisrael leading the way.
This is why verse 19 in this perek reads: “Vayisa malach ha’Elokim ha’holeich lifnei machaneh Yisrael vayeilech mei’achareihem — The angel of G-d who had been going in front of the camp of Israel moved and went behind them.” According to our discussion, explains the Meshech Chochmah, the angel of G-d was none other than Moshe, for Hashem’s Prophets are called malachim (see Chagai 1:13; Vayikra Rabbah 1:1). And Moshe, the malach of Hashem, moved from the front of the camp to the back. Tefillah was not called for, but initiative and an inner reserve of faith.
And it was this test that had to be passed to enable Bnei Yisrael to be worthy of Krias Yam Suf. Up to this point, they could not do it on their own and had to be assisted. However, their debut at the time of Krias Yam Suf marked their ascension into an independent and worthy people. They entered the water with little merit but great faith; they left the water a markedly changed people, now independently worthy of the greatest of miracles.
This connects to the words of the Shem MiShmuel (Beshalach 5672), who explains that this was evident at an earlier point in time, when they turned back to Egypt as directed by Hashem (Shemos 14:2). At the time, they were unworthy of redemption. As the Shem MiShmuel explains, their willingness to turn back toward Mitzrayim and listen without question to the command of Hashem was the action that elevated them, making them worthy of redemption and Krias Yam Suf.
***
I would also like to share a Midrash (Shemos Rabbah 21:4) on the subject, with a message that flows straight from the Midrash itself. The Midrash draws a parallel between two kapitlach in Tehillim that begin with the word tefillah:
“Tefillah le’Moshe ish ha’Elokim — A prayer by Moshe, the man of G-d” (90:1), and “Tefillah le’ani chi yaatof — A prayer of the afflicted man when he swoons” (102:1). The same word, tefillah, is associated with the prayer of Moshe, the greatest person, and the prayer of an afflicted and impoverished man. The Midrash explains that to human beings, money talks. A wealthy person is usually listened to, his words heard and accepted. A pauper’s words, on the other hand, are often not even acknowledged but simply ignored. (See Ki Sisa, Moving Beyond Rank and Origin.) But Hashem is different. The tefillah of a giant in stature such as Moshe is not listened to any more than the tefillah of the simplest and poorest person. Before Him, all are equal.
This can be proven, says the Midrash, from the pasuk in Beshalach: When Moshe began to cry out and daven for Yisrael at the Yam Suf, Hashem put an end to his prayer. “Why do you stand and pray? My children have already prayed (Shemos 14:10), and their prayers were accepted.”
One should never think that his tefillah will not be accepted because of his lowly spiritual state. Hashem hears the prayers of the greatest prophet, but He also hears the prayers of the humblest slave leaving Egypt.
As long as we turn to Him, He will turn to us
