Parashat Bo, Exodus 10:1-13:16

As Pharaoh washes his hands of the Hebrew slaves, God embraces the nascent nation.

There is something fascinating about watching somebody karate chop a block in half. For one thing, we know it takes a great deal of training and concentration. (Don't try this at home!) It is an act that symbolizes both power and control. Too bad it is so often misused to sell everything from knives to super-sticky adhesives. Interesting too is that Karate means "empty hand," i.e., with no weapon. Everything is based on an individual's training and focus as the source of power.

The power concentrated in the hand, metaphorically speaking, comes to play in the arm-wrestling between God and Pharaoh. Before any of the plagues God says And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I stretch out My hand over Egypt and bring out the Israelites from their midst. (Exodus 7:5) As the drama develops, Pharaoh's basic response is: "talk to the hand." The point at which a number of the plagues are initiated is when God asks Aaron or Moses to "lend a hand." Not only was this true in the plagues we read about last week, it is evident as well in plagues eight and nine this week in parashat Bo. For the plague of locusts God tells Moses …Hold out your arm over the land of Egypt (Exodus 10:12). (Albeit, Moses holds out his staff; we'll handle that discussion some other time.) For the ninth plague God instructs Moses "Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched." (Exodus 10:21). But the final plague is untouched by human hands. It emanates solely from God. In the middle of the night the Lord struck down all the first-born in the land of Egypt. (Exodus 12:29)

In the Haggadah, after the spilling of ten drops of wine for the ten plagues, there is a discussion taken from the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon focusing on the power of God's hand:

Rabbi Yosei the Galilean says: "How do we know that the Egyptians suffered ten plagues in Egypt and fifty plagues by the sea?" In Egypt – What does it say? 'The magicians told Pharaoh: This is the finger of God.' By the sea- What does it say? 'Israel saw the great hand that God wielded against Egypt, and the nation feared Adonai and believed in Adonai and in Moses his servant. If the Egyptians suffered ten plagues by God's finger in Egypt, they suffered fifty plagues by God's hand by the sea."

Translation from My People's Passover Haggadah: Traditional Texts, Modern Commentaries, vol. 2, Lawrence A. Hoffman and David Arnow (eds.), pp. 39-40

The discussion continues with the comments of Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Akiva, and the number of plagues, based on a selection of biblical verses and the imagery of fingers and hand, rises to a total of 250. The purpose of all this math is to increase the miraculous nature of what God had done.

But back to plague ten, which is totally hands-off: no Aaron, no Moses, and no mention of the hand of God either, although this is the plague that will crush the will of Pharaoh and prove God's might. It is the tenth plague that defines Passover: And Moses said to the people, "Remember this day, on which you went free from Egypt, the house of bondage, how the Lord freed you from it with a mighty hand: no leavened bread shall be eaten. (Exodus 13:3) Even though God's hand is not mentioned in the tenth plague, it is mentioned twice more in Exodus 13:9 and 13:11. And as a reminder we have the Jewish equivalent of tying a string around your finger: And this shall serve you as a sign on your hand and as a reminder on your forehead — in order that the Teaching of the Lord may be in your mouth — that with a mighty hand the Lord freed you from Egypt. (Exodus 13:9), or if you prefer And so it shall be as a sign upon your hand and as a symbol on your forehead that with a mighty hand the Lord freed us from Egypt. (Exodus 13:16)

It is the lack of any hand that is most striking (pun intended) about the tenth plague, because the tenth plague is the Divine equivalent of a karate-chop. This is based on the timing which is be-hatzi ha-laylah, in the middle of the night (Exodus 12:29). Earlier, Moses informed the Egyptian court that God planned to carry out this plague ka-hatzot ha-laylah, toward midnight (Exodus 11:4). What's the difference between the two, other than a Hebrew prefix? Be-hatzi is specific. It is the time when the night is half over. Reading it poetically, one can relate hatzi (half) to hatza (cut or cleave). In fact, Rashi (Exodus 11:4) understands it as being the time when the night is divided in half. With the tenth plague God cleaves the night.

This action has significance far beyond Pharaoh's arm being twisted to free the slaves. Yes, it is proof of God's power. But is also a symbol of a new relationship. As Pharaoh washes his hands of the Hebrew slaves, God embraces the nascent nation.

It all comes down to that chopping action, cleaving and dividing; this imagery appears in a number of places (though it should be noted that the Hebrew words are not the same). The first example comes from Genesis 15 in the story of the "Covenant between the Pieces." God instructs Abram to take a variety of animals, chop them in half and places these pieces facing one another. When the sun set and it was very dark, there appeared a smoking oven, and a flaming torch which passed between those pieces. On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram (Genesis 15:17-18). It continues next week as the Children of Israel are at the Sea of Reeds. First there was the cloud with the darkness, and it cast a spell upon the night, so that the one could not come near the other all through the night (Exodus 14:20), and after the darkness the waters were split (Exodus 14:21) so that the freed people could cross in safety before Pharaoh and his army. Moses experiences it personally when God's glory passes before him. For his own protection God instructs Moses: I will put you in a cleft of the rock and shield you with My hand until I have passed by. Then I will take My hand away and you will see My back (Exodus 33:22-23). Interestingly, Ibn Ezra describes God's shielding Moses as being "like a cloud covering the light of the sun so that none can see it." (Ibn Ezra on Exodus 33:22)

Darkness, clefts, and God's protective presence: In Genesis God's covenant with Abram foretells the covenant with the Hebrew slaves, the Divine Presence passing in the divide created by the offerings. On the night of the Exodus God establishes this brit (covenant) with the people, cleaving the night as God's will is manifest and the promise to Abraham fulfilled. At the Sea of Reeds, it is the people who walk through the divide, thereby entering the brit with God. On Mount Sinai, the brit is strengthened after the incident of the Golden Calf, as Moses, representing the nation, settles into the cleft of the rock and God's glory passes by.

How interesting that in English, the word "cleave" can mean "divide" or "separate" as well as "adhere," for the latter is the intended result of the imagery found in the Torah. The divide that separates the Divine from humankind also clears a path for humanity to connect with God. The mighty arm that clears a path to freedom is the same outstretched hand ready to guide us when we stumble along the way.

I sing praises with joyful lips
…when I think of You in the watches of the night;
for You are my help,
…my soul cleaves to You;
Your right hand supports me.

Psalm 63:6-9

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Bo, Exodus 10:1-13:16

It is up to us to navigate through the darkness.

I've never been one for cliffhangers, be it on the silver screen or the written page. Perhaps that is why the story of the ten plagues has always raised a question in my mind. Why is it divided over two parashiyot (Torah portions)? Last week we read about seven of the plagues. This week in parashat Bo we read about the final three followed by the Exodus from Egypt. If the rabbis in ancient days wanted to leave us with a cliffhanger, why did they choose hail as the final plague for last week's reading? Does it make for a dramatic closing; and is this week's first plague – locusts –really a dramatic opening?

The plagues have been divided in all sorts of ways. Some mimic naturally occurring events and others –such as the death of the first born –cannot be explained in that way. There are those who divide the plagues into three groups of three and then add the final one. However we distribute the plagues, it doesn't explain why the last three were left for this week's reading.

There is one difference between the first seven and the last three. The plagues we read about this week all share the element of darkness. Plague number eight involves locusts. We are told that Locusts invaded all the land of Egypt and settled within all the territory of Egypt in a thick mass; never before had there been so many, nor will there ever be so many again. They hid all the land from view, and the land was darkened… (Exodus 10:14-15). The ninth plague is the actual plague of darkness, but this is no ordinary darkness. Then the Lord said to Moses, "Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched." Moses held out his arm toward the sky and thick darkness descended upon all the land of Egypt for three days (Exodus 10:21-22). The final plague, the death of the firstborn sons, occurs in the dark. Moses said, "Thus says the Lord: Toward midnight I will go forth among the Egyptians… (Exodus 11:4). The blanket of darkness encompasses the terror of all three plagues.

Darkness is alien to us. Unless you are deep in the backwoods during a cloudy night, there is always some light somewhere, or a light readily available at the flip of a switch. We are not at the mercy of darkness, though we still have remnants of the fear and helplessness associated with the dark. Perhaps that's why so many horror films have the word "dark" in their titles.

We find remnants of this fear in Judaism. The hashkiveinu prayer recited as part of the evening service asks for God's protection from all sorts of terrible things that can happen at night. In midrash, night often symbolizes a time of oppression; and Rabbinic Judaism frequently refers to the long night of exile. Exodus Rabbah (14:2) describes the ninth plague as a primordial darkness that existed before God said "Let there be light," a darkness that is confined to Gehinnom (Gehenna). In our own day, Elie Wiesel titled his autobiography of survival in the death camps Night.

The Etz Hayim commentary sheds a modern light on the plague of darkness, seeing it as a psychological or even spiritual darkness.

Perhaps the Egyptians were depressed by the series of calamities that had struck them or by the realization of how much their own comfort depended on the enslavement of others. The person who cannot see his neighbor is incapable of spiritual growth, incapable of rising from where he is currently. In Jewish legal discussion defining how early one may recite the morning prayers, “dawn” is defined as “when one can recognize the face of a friend” (BT Ber. 9b). When one can see other people and recognize them as friends, the darkness has begun to lift.

Etz Hayim p. 377

It is the lack of concern for others that plagued the Egyptians, a callous darkness that engulfed their souls and could only be pierced when the terrible last plague struck those whom they loved.

This final dreadful plague occurs in the middle of the night. As it is set into motion and Israel prepares for the great Exodus, we are told: That was for the Lord a night of vigil to bring them out of the land of Egypt; that same night is the Lord's… (Exodus 12:42). Rashi picks up on the phrase "that same night," explaining that this was the night that God had spoken of to Abraham, that long-ago promise to the patriarch now being fulfilled.

Rashi's comment points to another view of darkness: Night also cradles hope and anticipation. How many poems and love songs eagerly anticipate the night? That fair lady Eliza Doolittle could have "danced all night." Tony and Maria in "West Side Story" found what they were looking for "Tonight." Jewishly, our days begin at night. Many holidays include a nighttime study session; Shavuot being the most well-known of these. Midrash Tehillim gives us the familiar statement that it is darkest before dawn–but this is something to anticipate:

At night, though it be night, one has the light of the moon, the stars, the planets. Then when is it really dark? Just before dawn! After the moon sets and the stars set and the planets vanish, there is no darkness deeper than the hour before dawn. And in that hour the Holy One answers the world and all that are in it: out of the darkness He brings forth the dawn and gives light to the world.

Midrash Tehillim 22 as quoted in The Book of Legends, 761:18

Yet our alienation from complete darkness means that we have lost numerous opportunities for powerful experiences, those breathtaking moments that Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel termed "radical amazement." In most places, we can no longer lift our eyes and see the countless stars that our patriarch Abraham saw. You have to get pretty far away from civilization to see the Milky Way caress the sky. Could it be that in making such experiences extinct, light has distanced us from God?

The middle of the night can either be the darkest, most dreadful time when everything is shadowy and things appear at their worst, or it can be the turning point that leads towards the light of dawn. It is up to us to navigate through the darkness. Fortunately, God has given us the tools to do so: Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. (Psalm 119:105)

Our challenge is to be able to walk along God's path at any time, whether the way is illuminated or not. Some find it hard to reach out to God when they face personal darkness. Our ancestors in Egypt had to wait for God to reach out to them. Others find it easy to stray from the path in broad daylight, when things are going well. Our ancestors were warned of this possibility once they neared the Promised Land. Squinting in the brightness of the day, does it matter that we can't see God in the distance? The task we face is realizing that God is there, no matter what time of day, no matter what point in our lives –whether we feel powerless and struggling, preparing for Exodus, wandering in the wilderness or nearing the Promised Land. Each step has its obstacles but also opportunities as we are reminded every Shabbat:
It is good to give thanks to Adonai
To sing hymns to your name, O Most High
To proclaim your lovingkindness in the morning
Your faithfulness at night.
(Psalm 92:2-3)

Shabbat shalom,
MS