Many, many years ago, well before Rabbinical school became a possibility, I went to Shabbat services at Beit Daniel in Tel Aviv. Rabbi Dan Pratt - then, the synagogue’s rabbinical intern - had been assigned to deliver his first sermon, on Parashat Korach. As you probably remember, in that parashah, Korach leads a rebellion against Moshe’s authority and, as a punishment, God makes the desert swallow Korach and his household. Dan approached the bimah and, reluctantly, told us about his discomfort with the fact that davka in the first time that he would address that community for a dvar-torah, it would be to say that in his opinion God was wrong in the way God punished Korach. The thought that anyone - not to say someone who was becoming a rabbi - could say that God was wrong challenged my way of understanding the biblical text, my relationship with tradition, and ultimately, my conception of God. Today, in this dvar-torah, I acknowledge my debt to Rabbi Pratt.
Parashat Boh (Ex. 10:1-13:16) contains some of the most famous episodes of the Torah: the last three plagues, including the death of the first-borns, instructions regarding the annual celebration of Passover, and eventually the release from Mitzrayim. The importance of this parashah can also be apprehended by the fact that Rashi, in his famous commentary on Bereshit 1:1, contemplated the idea that the Torah should have began on Exodus 12:1 “הַחֹדֶשׁ הַזֶּה לָכֶם, רֹאשׁ חֳדָשִׁים”, when the first mitzvah is commanded to the Israelites[i].
This parashah is also remarkable due to the fact that it has raised challenging theological questions, especially regarding free will and the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart and the killing of all the first-borns in Mitzrayim, including slaves and animals. These two issues have, for many Jewish families, led to interesting (and, sometimes, passionate) discussions on Passover seders, when the story of Israelite suffering in, and release from, Mitzrayim is annually retold.
A third complex issue has not received the same popular attention, though; in most cases it is neither part of the Haggadah nor of religious schools’ curricula. In Shemot 11:2-3a, we read:[ii]
בדַּבֶּר-נָא, בְּאָזְנֵי הָעָם וְיִשְׁאֲלוּ אִישׁ מֵאֵת רֵעֵהוּ וְאִשָּׁה מֵאֵת רְעוּתָהּ כְּלֵי-כֶסֶף וּכְלֵי זָהָב. גוַיִּתֵּן יְהוָה אֶת-חֵן הָעָם בְּעֵינֵי מִצְרָיִם
Ex. 11: 2“Please, speak in the ears of the people to borrow, each man from his fellow man and each woman from her fellow woman, objects of silver and gold.” 3aAnd Adonai disposed Mitzrayim favorably toward the people.
This theme had already been introduced at the beginning of the book of Shemot (3:21-22), when God told Moshe what would happen in the future, and is revisited later, still in Parashat Boh, when the Israelites follow the instructions God had given to Moshe (12:35036).
Traditional commentators have dealt with the difficulties posed by these three passages. How could the Israelites borrow valuable objects from the Miztreem when they intended to leave Mitzrayim and never again come back to return the objects? How fair would be to ask something knowing that God had predisposed the Mitzreem to receive their request favorably? Many mefarshim, facing hostile environments in which these verses had been used to attack the honesty of the Jews, had to justify the behavior of the Israelites in the Biblical text. Rashbam wrote that the Israelites had asked to borrow the artifacts, but the Mitzreem gave them the best of their clothes and jewelry as gifts[iii]. His grandfather, Rashi, described an even more incredible scene: the Mitzreem would give more that they were asked for, “one you say?! take two!”[iv] Ibn Ezra, directly attacked those questioning the honesty of the Israelites, arguing that they were following God’s orders, which should never be questioned. “God created everything and can take it from one and give it to another. There is nothing wrong in this, for everything belongs to God.”[v]
While these commentators certainly add color and flavor to the events preceding the Israelites’ redemption from Mitzrayim, they tend to justify the text more than struggle with it, and by doing so, fail to address some major theological issues: Why did God instruct the Israelites to request these artifacts from the Mitzreem? If the Mitzreem were not forced to do something they did not want to do, why did God asked Moshe to discreetly talk to the Israelites (“Daber na be-oznei ha-am”)? And, if God could dispose the Mitzreem favorably toward the Israelite, why not dispose Pharaoh favorably also, avoiding all the destruction and death caused to innocents?
Some modern commentators have addressed these challenges, at least partially. Nehama Leibowitz[vi] argued that it would have been understandable if the Israelites, after four hundred years of slavery, had taken the initiative for demanding artifacts from the Mitzreem, either as a compensation for their labor or as gifts. But the fact that God had instructed them to do so, revealing a premeditated Divine plan, is the source of our discomfort. Could God have instructed the Israelites to do something ethically dubious?
Benno Jacob[vii], a German commentator who lived in the first half of the 20th centtury, argued that the Israelites never had the intention of misleading the Mitzreem[viii] and that the punishment of Mitzrayim was intended to teach both Mitzreem and Israelites not to oppress the stranger. Furthermore, the gold, silver and clothes were farewell gifts given by the Mitzreem to the Israelites before the tenth plague, not because of fear of an impending death, but out of sympathy with the Israelite suffering. Benno Jacob argues that the gifts should be understood as a public protest against Pharaoh’s actions, showing how the receptive hearts of the Mitzreem were contrasted to the Pharaoh’s hardened heart. The people remembered Joseph’s actions and were impressed by God’s power through the plagues. When God asked Moshe to instruct the Israelites to approach the Mitzreem (Ex. 11:2), the use of the word “na” in God’s instruction indicates God’s concern that the Israelites would feel so triumphant after the killing of the first-borns that they might reject the farewell gift offered by the Mitzreem. God wanted to ensure that the Israelites and Ha-Am Ha-Mitzri ended the episode in good terms, despite the dispute with Pharaoh.
A similar reading was proposed by Yehuda Radday[ix], a Bible scholar from the Technion, who was even more direct on his question, “How could God have commanded them to do what was not only far from perfect but prima facie immoral?” He notes that if the articles of silver and gold were meant to be wages for the Israelites’ work, they should have been demanded publicly and not a few hours before the Israelites left. His alternative interpretation is that the text includes several hints of a mutual relationship between the Israelites and the Mitzreem[x] that led to an exchange of gifts at the time of departure. All God had asked from the Israelites was to accept the offer, to help the Mitzreem expiate their blame and shame and, thus, to save their land.
While I have a deep appreciation for the several ways Leibowitz, Jacob and Radday helped me get a better comprehension of this episode, I would like to propose an alternative reading. Just like Rabbi Pratt and his opposition to the way God dealt with Korach, I also disagree with God’s instruction to the Israelites. I believe Israel had a moral imperative of rejecting God’s command. Differently from Ibn Ezra, I think it is our religious duty to question God’s commandments, a duty that derives from our creation be-tzelem Elohim, with free will and the capacity to distinguish between right and wrong. God did not create automatons who blindly follow orders, but human beings who should be held accountable for their actions even when following instructions.
We, Jews, are called Bnei-Israel, the children of the one who struggled with Elohim, an indication that Judaism is not about accepting all of God’s instructions without questioning them first. At least two of the leading figures of our tradition dared to challenge God: Avraham on behalf of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Moshe on behalf of the Israelites after the golden calf incident. Interestingly, though, when God asks Moshe to instruct the Israelites (Ex. 11:2), the people are not called Bnei-Israel, but ha-am (the people). As a test to the people, God softly requested them to spoil Mitzrayim – and Bnei-Israel[xi] failed the test. After the plague of darkness afflicted Mitzrayim, a moral darkness fell over Israel, and the people put their anger towards the Mitzreem above their obligation to act ethically, stripping Mitzrayim from valuable objects.
Radday has noted that there are only four times in the entire Tanakh when God uses the particle “na” when addressing human beings: (1) when Avraham and Lot departed ways (Gen. 13:14)), (2) when Avraham complained that he was growing old and still did not have a son (Gen. 15:5); (3) when God instructed the Akedah (Gen. 22:2); and (4) when God instructed the Israelites to spoil Mitzraym (Ex. 11:2) – all episodes in which God requests tasks that cannot be fully understood rationally. The akedah, especially, has been often understood as a test for Avraham; one that commentators have not agreed whether he passed or not. The use of the same language in our passage corroborates the reading of this episode as God testing the Israelites.
Nahum Sarna suggests that the articles of silver and gold the Israelites received from the Mitzreem were probably used in the building of the golden calf. The implied message of one misdeed leading to another can hardly be overlooked and should be read as the biblical condemnation of the Israelites’ acts on plundering Mitzrayim. The Israelites certainly deserved being recompensed for the years of labor in Mitzrayim, but they did not have the right to act deceitfully to achieve that goal. Instead of openly demanding reparation from Pharaoh, they decided to take the short cut, accepting God’s offer to soften the heart of the Mitzreem while the Israelites “borrowed” their most valuable articles. Instead of establishing a new paradigm for the proper treatment of foreign workers in Biblical times, the Israelites’ attitude forever stained the Jewish people’s foundational narrative.
As the dvar-Torah I heard from Rabbi Dan Pratt years ago, Parashat Boh teaches me not to settle for the plain meaning of God’s words.
It is not easy, but being part of Bnei-Israel, the people that wrestles with God, requires sometimes even saying “No!” to God. It might be regarding the proper treatment of a rebellious son, of same-sex relationships, or of a patriarchal model that denies women their fair share in familial and communal leadership. The issues might be different for each one of us, but the claim of an ideological position as being the word of God - even when there are Scriptural foundations for that claim - should not imply a bypass of moral and ethical considerations. After having eaten from the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, we don’t have any alternative but to make judgement calls on issues that are relevant to our hearts, and to consider not only what God demands, but also where good and evil are.
I want to encourage you to see Tanakh in a different way: what if, instead of being the book of all answers, it became God’s opening speech in a conversation we also have a saying? I now see our texts as inviting my questions, challenging me to engage in the dialogue and I invite you to try doing the same. Our parashah hints on asking as an important paradigm for living, when it tells of the child who asks “What do you mean by this rite?” (Ex. 12:26) - the rabbis labeled this as the wicked child, but the Torah is actually very compassionate in the answer this child receives. Let’s take asking from the Haggadah and from the seder into the world.
May we all be blessed with the wisdom, compassion and sense of justice to pass all of God’s tests, even when it requires taking bold theological stances.
[i] . While commandments had been given before to the patriarchs (e.g. brit-milah to Avraham), this is the first time that the whole community of Israel is addressed, as indicated by the plural form of “chodesh ha-zeh lachem”in Ex. 12:2.
[ii] . My own translation.
[iii] . Rashbam on Ex. 12:36.
[iv] . Rashi on Ex. 13:36.
[v] . Ibn Ezra on Ex. 3:22.
[vi] . Leibowitz, Nehama. Studies in Shemot (Exodus): Part I Shemot-Ytro (Translated and adapted from Hebrew by Aryeh Newman), Jerusalem: The World Zionist Organization, Department for Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora, 1983, pp. 183-192.
[vii] . Jacob, Benno. The Second Book of the Bible: Exodus (Translated with an introduction by Walter Jacob), Hoboken, NJ: Ktav Publishing, 1992, pp. 337-346.
[viii] . A discussion resulting from the reading of “vaysh’alu” as “borrowing” the artifacts instead of “asking” them permanently.
[ix] . Radday, Yehuda. "The Spoils of Egypt." Annual of Swedish Theological Institute XII, 1983, pp. 127-147.
[x] . E.g. the reflectiveness implied on 11:2, “אִישׁ מֵאֵת רֵעֵהוּ וְאִשָּׁה מֵאֵת רְעוּתָהּ ” (“each man from his fellow man and each woman from her fellow woman”), and the particle “even” in the second part of verse 11:3, “גַּם הָאִישׁ מֹשֶׁה גָּדוֹל מְאֹד בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם בְּעֵינֵי עַבְדֵי-פַרְעֹה, וּבְעֵינֵי הָעָם”(“even Moshe was deeply esteemed in Mitzrayim among Pharaoh’s courtiers and among the people”)
[xi] . On Ex. 12:35, when the action is actually performed, the people is referred to “בני ישראל”.
