The WebYeshiva Blog

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Moshe petitions God

In his Guide for the Perplexed (1:54), the Rambam discusses an important dialogue between Moshe and Hashem in the aftermath of the Golden Calf. As the people sinned, Hashem informed Moshe that He was going to annihilate them. Moshe prayed to Hashem to spare them, and his prayers were answered (32:14). Nonetheless, Hashem informed Moshe that there would be lasting repercussions of their sin, and that through their sin, some kind of distance had been created between G-d and Israel. Moshe, noting that he was appointed to be the leader of Israel, then made two petitions of Hashem. The first was (33:13):

ועתה אם־נא מצאתי חן בעיניך הודעני נא את־דרכך ואדעך למען אמצא־חן בעיניך וראה כי עמך הגוי הזה

If I have found favor in Your eyes, show me now Your ways, so that I might know You and further find favor in Your eyes. See that these people are Your nation. What does it mean to be “shown the ways of G-d”? Furthermore, why did Moshe tell Hashem at the end of his request to “see that these people are Your nation” – what does this have to do with Moshe being shown Hashem’s ways?

Petition #2: Show Your Glory

Before we answer these questions, let’s look at Moshe’s second petition (33:18): “ויאמר הראני נא את־כבדך” – “Moshe said: Now show me Your glory.” What was Moshe asking in this second request? What is the difference between G-d’s “ways” (“דְּרָכֶךָ”) and G-d’s “glory” (“כְּבֹדֶךָ”)? Here is where the Rambam launches into the major thrust of his discussion, explaining how man can never really truly “know” Hashem essentially. The difference between Hashem’s “ways” and His “glory” is that the former means understanding how G-d interacts with the world, while the latter means understanding who Hashem really is innately. To illustrate, I may think that I “know” a public figure based on how he or she interacts with the public, but that may merely be a façade that this person is displaying to the public. I really only know that person’s “ways.” What that person is truly like when they go home and the cameras turn off may be something completely different. Thus, I don’t know that person’s “glory.” Hashem instructed Moshe that it is possible for man to understand how G-d interacts publicly with the world, but it is not possible for man to understand Hashem’s true essence. Man’s intellect simply is not built to process this transcendent information. This is why, when assenting to Moshe’s first request to understand Hashem’s ways, Hashem said (33:19), “אֲנִי אַעֲבִיר כָּל־טוּבִי עַל־פָּנֶיךָ” – “I will pass all my goodness over your face.” “Goodness” is a code word for all of creation, since after creation the Torah records that (Gen. 1:31) “Hashem saw that it was all very good.” Hashem was giving Moshe a glimpse of how He created and maintained all of reality. In this way, Moshe would be able to comprehend how Hashem interacts with all that exists.

The Thirteen Attributes of Mercy

Hashem then taught Moshe the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy (34:6-7), which the Rambam explains as a further lesson of G-d’s “ways.” Hashem was teaching him how not only He interacts with all of creation in general, but specifically how He interacts with his crowning creation, man, and His system reward and punishment when dealing with mankind. In a brief statement, the Rambam explains why Moshe needed to know this information: As their leader, I need to understand the best way to lead Bnei Israel. By learning Your system of tutelage, I can emulate the way You lead, and I will lead Bnei Israel accordingly. This explains why Moshe said at the end of his request, “See that these people are Your nation.” He was presenting to Hashem that his desire to know His ways was not just out of his own curiosity and desire to grow in his knowledge of God, but that there was a real utilitarian benefit in knowing Hashem’s ways to enable him to emulate God in his leadership role. If you wish me to deal properly with Your nation, Hashem, give me the tools that I will need in order to do so.

Why ask God for help in leading now?

What the Rambam doesn’t explicitly address, however, is why Moshe was making this request specifically now, after the Sin of the Golden Calf. Moshe had already been appointed their leader much earlier, and if he truly felt that he needed leadership skills training, why did he wait until now to make this request? One answer might be that after the Golden Calf, Hashem informed Moshe that He would not be as directly involved with the nation as He had been before the Sin. Moshe understood this to mean that Moshe, as the mortal emissary of Hashem, would now have more responsibility in attending to the needs of the people. He specifically needed now to know how to lead, since Hashem was taking a back seat in His leadership role and leaving most of the job to his underling, Moshe. By analogy, it would be like the CEO of the company telling his second in command, the COO (chief operating officer), that he’s taking a leave of absence. This would be the time for the COO to get debriefed by the CEO about how to run the company. But another way of understanding why Moshe put forth his request now is by noting that Moshe was seeing Hashem as a punishing God of His chosen people for the very first time. He realized that although he had seen Hashem act with vengeance against man when He punished the Egyptians, he had not seen Hashem do the same to His beloved nation, the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. This piqued Moshe’s curiosity, because this meant that he, too, when dealing with the Chosen People, could not always be benevolent. Moshe, too, would have to learn when to be cruel and when to be kind.

Learning from Hashem Amidst Crisis

Of particular interest is that sometimes these kinds of opportunities to “know Hashem’s ways” arise specifically amidst crisis and unfortunate events. We know that we gain better understanding of the human condition when we see people immersed in crisis and pain. As the Talmud (TB Eruvin 65b) states, one of the ways of truly getting to know someone is seeing them when they we become upset. Additionally, we have a better opportunity to make sense of Hashem and how He interacts with us when we are presented with crisis and pain. By witnessing Hashem’s mercy even when He presents us with privation and pain, we can learn how to emulate this behavior even when it is necessary to deal harshly with our opponents. As an example: Before Hashem presented us with the pandemic, forcing us to into lockdown, He gave us amazing technologies that could connect every single human being on the planet virtually, and that could create delivery systems to have things appear at our door with the touch of a button. It’s almost as if Hashem’s attitude was: If I need to discipline my children by confining them, let me provide them with a consoling element in their lives that will enable their confinement to be more tolerable. There are so many more examples, but we must first open our eyes if we are to learn. All of us should be turning our eyes to the heavens and asking God, “הוֹדִעֵנִי נָא אֶת־דְּרָכֶךָ” – please show me Your ways, so that I might know how to live a virtuous life that is filled with benevolence and love even amidst adversity. During these weeks before Pesach, our time of Redemption, let us look forward to a new season of liberation and freedom, and let us always try to take the lessons of this past year and apply them judiciously to our lives until the coming of the ultimate Redemption, bb”a.

Remembering the Wine and the Vinegar By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Longevity = Positive Attitude

The Midrash records some thing very strange. When the Jewish people first heard the commandment of (Deut. 25:17) “Zachor!” – Remember what Amalek did to you so that you will know to eradicate this evil personified, they were perplexed. They turned to Moshe and questioned: “Moshe Rabeinu, how can you command us to remember Amalek, when you’ve already commanded us to remember the Sabbath?! How can we fulfill both ‘Zachor’s?” Before we look at Moshe’s answer, let’s ponder this strange question. Why were Bnei Israel bothered by the fact that they were commanded to “remember” both Amalek and Shabbos? Why can’t a person remember two different things? I was very bothered by this question until I remembered a person whom I’ve grown to admire greatly. Her name was Alice Herz-Sommer, and she died at the age of 110 in 2014. She and her son were survivors of the Theresienstadt concentration camp, but her husband, parents, and sister were all murdered by the Nazis. She was a professional pianist and stayed alive by playing piano in a trio in the camp.

Hatred eats the soul

Until her passing, she was the oldest survivor of the Holocaust. When asked about the key to her longevity, she answered that it was her positive attitude, which allowed her to be happy every single day. She saw only the beauty in everything, even in painful situations. She never complained and had a perpetual smile on her face. She was an eternal optimist: “When you are optimistic, when you are not complaining, when you look at the good side of your life, everybody loves you.” And, she never looked back with hatred against the Nazis: “Hatred eats the soul of the hater, not the hated.” Alice had a beautiful soul, which was fed by her music and her joy of life. We read about her and are somewhat envious, because we know that what she says is true. If only we would focus on the good parts of life and ignore the bad, we would be so much happier. I believe this is what Bnei Israel were questioning when they heard about the mitzvah to remember Amalek. Their line of reasoning was: Moshe, you’ve already commanded us to fill our minds and souls with the thoughts of Shabbos, the most holy and spiritual day of the week. We thought this meant that we were supposed to focus on the good and the holy in life, and to look past the evil and the ugly. We appreciated this commandment, because it’s so much healthier to focus on the good and the beautiful. How can you now tell us that we need to also focus on the bad in the world? How are we going to live to be 110 years old, and to always be happy, like Alice? Won’t our souls be consumed with hatred if we must remember Amalek?!

Moshe's two answers

Now that we have somewhat a grasp on the Midrash’s question, let’s look at the answer. There are actually two versions in two different Midrashaim of Moshe’s answer. In one version, Moshe answered Bnei Israel: “There are two kinds of beverages: Spiced wine, which we drink to celebrate, and vinegar, which, while bitter, we drink to cure an upset stomach. Both are necessary, just as both commandments to ‘Remember’ are necessary.” In the second version, Moshe offered a different parable: “A king makes a festive meal. When the table is laden with all of the delicious food and drink, he tells his guests, ‘Remember my beloved friend, John.’ Later, when the table is cleared off and they are all sitting around an empty table, he tells his guests, ‘Remember my despised enemy, Tom.’ Similarly, there’s a time to remember Shabbos, when the table is full, and a time to remember Amalek, when the table is empty.” The Midrash’s response is truly profound. In essence, Moshe was telling the Jewish people that seeing the world’s beauty only is a luxury that you as the Jewish people cannot afford. Evil exists, and to ignore it will have dire consequences, just as not taking bitter vinegar or medicine when you are sick will have dire consequences.

There is good and there is evil

By telling us to remember both Shabbos and Amalek, Hashem is essentially teaching that while there is much beauty in the world, evil will always abide, and the role of the Jewish people is to be part of the solution to eradicate that evil. There will be times in life when the “table will be empty” and mankind will be thrust into darkness and hatred. Usually, the Jew will be the “canary in the mine,” the first object of that hatred. If we don’t know how to deal with Amalek (as Mordechai and Esther did in the Purim story), we risk being annihilated by our haters. True, being forced to remember Amalek may actually curtail our quality of life, because by not living like Alice, our hearts may get filled with anxiety and dread from time to time. But this is our albatross as the Jewish people: We’ve been assigned to be the guardians of the light and the good by watching out for evil in all its incarnations. (I emphasize that this not a criticism of Alice Herz-Sommer; she encountered and endured Amalek face-to-face. She fulfilled many lifetimes-worth of her mitzvah of “Zachor” while in Theresienstadt, and was certainly entitled to spend the rest of her life focusing only on the good and the beautiful. For the rest of us who are not survivors, the mitzvah of “Zachor” requires our constant diligence, no matter how tempting it may be to emulate this great woman’s attitude on life.)

Zachor es HaShabbat & Zachor es Amalek

We should also note that the mitzvah to “remember the Sabbath” is one that applies every single day, as is noted by the poskim. But the mitzvah to “remember Amalek” can be fulfilled by hearing the passage in the Torah only once a year. This should indicate to us that while both mitzvos are to remember, the Torah wishes for us to place much more mental and emotional investment in thinking about the holy and the beautiful than the evil and the ugly. Until the Messiah’s arrival, we should spend every day remembering the good and the holy. Remembering Shabbos daily reminds us that there is so much beauty in this universe, which far outweighs the evil and the ugly. Occasionally, we must also remember that Amalek still abides, both within us and outside of us. Our failure is sometimes in creating the right balance. Just as “spiced wine” should be far more plentiful than “vinegar” on our tables, we mistakenly ingest too much vinegar and not enough sweet wine. It would be a mistake to only look at the animus and anti-Semitism that still lingers in certain segments of the world. We have at least as much obligation to see the “spiced wine” of the philo-Semites who truly love Israel and the Jewish people. May we succeed in eradicating Amalek in our lifetimes, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Learning to Be Cherubic

Usually when purchasing a container, one views the container’s cover as something ancillary to the container. But this doesn’t seem the case when it comes to Ark and its Cover. The Kapores, the Ark Cover (by the way, the English word “cover” derives from the Latin “cooperire,” which curiously resembles the word Kapores), is given prominence by the Torah as an important object on its own. Not only are the specifications for the Cover spelled out, but the Torah commands that two statues should be hammered out of the same gold that is used to manufacture the Kapores. In fact, the most visible and distinctive feature of the Aron is the Cover and its two Cherubim. Much has been discussed about the Cherubim, why they are not idolatrous icons and what their function is, but a commentary by R’ Yissochor Berish Eichenstein of Ziditchov provides fodder for what we might wish to extract as a moral lesson from seeing these two statues upon approaching the Holy of Holies. Rashi (25:18) tells us the Cherubim were sculptures of small children with wings. Furthermore, the Torah emphasizes that the statues were positioned on both “ends” of the Ark Cover (25:19): “כְּר֨וּב אֶחָ֤ד מִקָּצָה֙ מִזֶּ֔ה וּכְרוּב־אֶחָ֥ד מִקָּצָ֖ה מִזֶּ֑ה”. In fact, the Torah states this positioning on both “ends” no less than three times. What’s the lesson?

Cherubim as metaphor

When looking at these Cherubim, I can be inspired to think about myself. These sculptures are metaphors for each of us who is struggling to understand the meaning of life and the beautiful Torah that Hashem gave us with which we might have greater understanding about our existence and purpose. The Cover represents the fact that despite our best efforts at understanding the Torah, we’ve “barely scratched the surface.” Even when we think that we understand a Torah message, we’re only receiving the surface message. There’s so much more depth and infinitude that is inaccessible to us, just as the Cherubim stand atop the Cover, never being able to truly access the contents of the Aron. Secondly, the image of the small child on both “ends” of the Cover represents that as much as I think I may have attained wisdom over the course of this life, I am still but a child, even in my advanced age, when it comes to truly understanding the meaning and purpose of life. As much as I think I’ve advanced from one “end” of my life to the other, when I compare my accumulated knowledge to the knowledge of G-d, I realize that I’ve moved the wisdom needle ever so slightly in an infinitely deep and vast sea of wisdom.

Face to face humility

This is why the Torah states that the faces of the Cherubim are (25:20) “אִ֣ישׁ אֶל־אָחִ֑יו” – facing each other. This communicates that when I’m a young person I look forward to attaining the wisdom of an older person, and look forward to the older version of myself, anticipating that as I get older I’ll become much wiser and capable. But as I get older, I look back to the younger version of myself and realize that I had so much more energy, vitality, and idealism, devoid of the cynicism and scars of a beleaguered life. This is the difference between King Solomon as a young man, when he wrote Shir HaShirim, the love song between the Jew and G-d, and the King Solomon as an older man, who wrote Koheles, filled with its wistful nihilism of looking back on life and saying, “הכל הבל”, everything is meaningless, because we’re all headed to the same demise.

Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev

The image of the Cherubim doesn’t just teach humility; childishness has its advantages, too. Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev is quoted teaching that there are three lessons you learn from babies: (1) When the child needs something or is in pain, it cries to its parent. (2) A baby is always busy -- you never see a baby just sitting there doing nothing. (3) When a baby falls down, it always gets up. Furthermore, despite the fact that we’ve only reached the surface of the Torah, and that we are but children even after an entire lifetime, the Cherubim are still portrayed as having wings, wings that are (25:20) “פֹּרְשֵׂ֨י כְנָפַ֜יִם לְמַ֗עְלָה” – spread out to the above. This reminds me that despite all my shortcomings as a mortal human being I can still spread my wings and try to fly. I may have feet of clay, but I also have wings which I can spread toward Heaven and do my best to reach whatever is attainable in this short lifetime. Looked upon this way, the Cherubim’s message is one of both humility and optimism about the human condition. Entering the Temple and seeing these majestic sculptures could help every single Jew visualize how he or she is to use their Judaism to propel them to the next level of living.

Bringing Divine Presence down

From the Cherubim, we can learn that as much as we think we know, as much knowledge and wisdom that we think we’ve accumulated, we still know nothing. But we can also draw optimism and hope from the Cherubim that the Jewish people were given the greatest gift when Hashem gave us the Torah. Not only a set of laws and practices with which to live our lives, but also a philosophy of optimism, that we have the great ability to spread our wings upwards to the open skies and reach for Heaven. And where does Hashem rest His Divine Presence? “וְנוֹעַדְתִּ֣י לְךָ֘ שָׁם֒ וְדִבַּרְתִּ֨י אִתְּךָ֜ מֵעַ֣ל הַכַּפֹּ֗רֶת מִבֵּין֙ שְׁנֵ֣י הַכְּרֻבִ֔ים” (25:22) – between those two Cherubim. When a Jew lives his life based on the Cherubim, the Divine Presence comes into his world. This is the Jewish people, especially in Israel today. We should all be very grateful that we are alive to bear witness. May these days of great hope and success for Israel continue to propel us to the Messianic Age, may we see it bb”a.

Parshas Mishpatim-Shekalim – Be The Angel By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Sending an angel

Everything was beautiful. The Jews were gathered around Mount Sinai. They had just heard the Ten Commandments, and then were given additional laws (“Mishpatim”) about how to structure their society which they would build upon entry into Eretz Israel. The people were inspired and uplifted. In continuing this inspirational moment, Hashem then told them (23:20): הנה אנכי שלח מלאך לפניך לשׁמרך בדרך ולהביאך אל־המקום אשׁר הכנתי Behold, I am sending forth an angel in front of you, to protect you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared. The commentaries grapple with the meaning of this verse. In a few weeks we will read about the sin of the Golden Calf. After this sin, Hashem was so upset with the people that He told Moshe that He could no longer directly travel with them. Instead, He would send an angel to guide them. Moshe protested and told Hashem that if He wouldn’t be directly engaged with His people, then there was no point in moving forward. Hashem finally assented and forgave them for the Golden Calf and agreed to be in their midst once again, sans the angel. If so, then why, during this glorious moment before the Golden Calf debacle, did Hashem tell them that He was sending an angel? Doesn’t an angel’s presence, instead of G-d Himself, imply a soured relationship? At this point, though, they hadn’t yet sinned, and there was no reason for Hashem to employ an angel instead of being in their midst directly!

Types of Angels

A number of commentaries seek to answer this question by suggesting that there are two different kinds of angels: There’s an angel which is accompanied by G-d directly and is synonymous with the “Shechinah,” the Divine Presence, and there’s another type of angel who is dispatched by Hashem, but Hashem remains at a distance. These are all esoteric ideas, and discussions of “how many angels can dance on the head of a needle” and other such angelic discussions often prove to be unfruitful. So let’s bring this all down to earth. Rav Yoseph Zvi Duschinsky (1867-1948) explained that “traveling with an angel” means, very simply, that there would no longer be overt miracles. That is, the word “angel” simply means an intermediary force, in this case, nature. After all the miracles of the Exodus, the parting of the Sea, the giving of the Ten Commandments, Hashem was now presenting to the Jewish people that from now on, the plan was for them to lead a prosaic existence without miracles. As they would imminently be entering the Land of Israel, Hashem was explaining to them that inheriting the Land would take hard work, because they could no longer rely on the miracles they had witnessed when leaving Egypt. This kind of existence is what was intended for man all along. We cannot live with continuous overt signs of G-d, for if we do, we lose our free will. This is why Yaakov, when blessing Ephraim and Menashe, told them (Gen. 48:16), “הַמַּלְאָךְ֩ הַגֹּאֵ֨ל אֹתִ֜י מִכָּל־רָ֗ע יְבָרֵךְ֘ אֶת־הַנְּעָרִים֒” – “The angel who has always saved me,” that is, Hashem who has always been there for me in a natural, covert way, “should bless these youths” similarly, in that they should be protected by G-d in a non-miraculous way. This way, we are able to serve Hashem amidst doubts and lack of clarity. The goal is to place our trust in Hashem even when we can’t see Him clearly.

Moshe's protest after the golden calf

After they sinned with the Golden Calf, however, Moshe realized that the Jews were still too new to this entire experience of free people living on their own in the desert. They needed additional miracles on a daily basis in order to prevent them from creating any new Golden Calves or other departures from their devotion to Hashem. That is why, when Hashem told Moshe after the Golden Calf that He would continue guiding them in the desert without miracles, Moshe protested: “It’s too soon – we’re not ready! Without miracles, You are setting us up for failure. Please Hashem, guide us miraculously at least through the desert, so that we can become accustomed to this new reality of being Your chosen people.” Hashem appreciated Moshe’s protest and assented to continue providing miracles while they were in the desert. The Manna and all the other miracles, the cloud and fire pillars, etc., resumed. Parents can relate to this message. As our children begin to grow, we slowly allow ourselves to pull away from them so that they can make their own mistakes. If we hover over them excessively, we run the risk of suffocating them and inhibiting their growth as adults. But if we withdraw too quickly from their tutelage, we set them up for failure. The wise parent assesses each one of his or her children to know what the right degree of oversight is right for the individual child.

Where are we today?

We have certainly matured over the millennia as a nation of Jews. We have seen the greatest triumphs and the greatest calamities befall us in our long history. Most of our history has been filled with Hashem’s intermediary “angel” accompanying us throughout our long sojourn. We have been called upon to continue placing our trust in Hashem throughout, even during our darkest periods. This has not proven to be easy, but for that segment of Klal Yisrael which has persevered in this difficult task, we have emerged whole and even more fortified with every historical iteration. This Shabbos is Parshas Shekalim. The holy sefarim tell us that the significance of “Shekalim” is not only to remind us of the half-shekel that Jews were required to donate to the Temple annually. On a more esoteric level, the word “Shekel” is a reminder of how G-d created the physical universe. As the Book of Creation notes, Hashem carefully “weighed” (“שקל” in Hebrew) how much of His Divinity would infuse the physical world. The measurement had to be very precise, in order to allow mankind to possess free will. Too much overt Divine light, and man loses his free will. Too little Divine light, and man descends into chaos and depravity.

Relying on miracles or angels?

Hashem’s angel still travels with us. True, we cannot rely on overt miracles. We cannot assume that just because we are davening and doing mitzvos that we are protected from natural disasters or mishaps. We live within the natural world, and we must comport ourselves accordingly. But we also take faith in the fact that the angel of G-d has been with us, through thick and thin, throughout our history. Hashem’s angel was with us in Auschwitz, and Hashem’s angel was with us when we founded the State of Israel. And, Hashem’s angel is with us as we endure difficult times in our own lives. Don’t give up on the angel. As Hashem told the people (23:21): “Be careful in its presence, heed its voice, and don’t go against it.” It’s hard to find Hashem these days, but our calling is to try our best to hear the voice of His angels. They are all around us, you know. They are the kind person who tries to help you while you anxiously wait in the doctor’s office. They are the person who calls you to check in and make sure you’re alright. They’re the person who slows down to give you the right of way when driving. And sometimes, the angel is you. As we relive creation in these days leading up to the new dawn of Spring, let’s all try to be an angel for someone. May we live to see those days of overt miracles once again, at the time of our Redemption, bb”a. Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh Tov.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Each Child is Number One

We’ve gotten to know Moshe Rabbeinu over these last several parshiyos. We’ve seen his character as a man of great integrity who is sensitive to the plights of others and wishes only to help those less privileged. We briefly met his wife, Tziporah, in Parshas Shemos. But for some reason, we need to wait until our parsha, quite late in the story, to learn that Moshe had two sons. The Torah states that when Yisro came to visit Moshe after hearing of the great miracles, he brought not only Tziporah, Moshe’s wife, but also her two sons, and that their names were Gershom and Eliezer. Moshe’s children have no apparent bearing upon the narrative; why are they mentioned, and moreover, why by name? Furthermore, in providing their names, the Torah states, (18:3), “אֲשֶׁ֨ר שֵׁ֤ם הָֽאֶחָד֙ גֵּֽרְשֹׁ֔ם” – “the name of the one was Gershom,” as Moshe stated, “I was a stranger (‘ger’) in a strange land.” In the next verse the Torah states that “וְשֵׁ֥ם הָאֶחָ֖ד אֱלִיעֶ֑זֶר” – “and the name of the one was Eliezer,” as Moshe gave thanks that “G-d came to my aid (‘ezri’), and saved me from Pharaoh’s sword.” When naming a list of two things, one usually states, “the name of the one… and the name of the other/second…” But here, the Torah states about the second son, “the name of the one.” Why is that?

Gershom the pagan

A number of commentaries observe that Gershom and Eliezer were very different from each other; accordingly, each was “one” of a kind. The 13th century Tosafist, Rabbi Chaim Paltiel, quotes the Mekhilta to explain just how different they were. When Moshe first came to Midyan and met the beautiful Tziporah, he asked Yisro for her hand in marriage. Yisro agreed on one condition: “Agree that your firstborn son will be committed to the pagan religion of my people, and any sons born afterward will be committed to the G-d of your people.” Moshe agreed and even swore to Yisro that he would keep to his side of the deal. This Midrash explains why each of Moshe’s sons was “the one.” Gershom was singularly designated for idol worship, and Eliezer was singularly designated for worshiping G-d. We now understand why these sons were introduced at this point. Yisro’s bringing them both back to Moshe in the desert demonstrated his willingness to surrender even Gershom to the G-d of the Jews. He absolved Moshe of the original contract between them, because he saw the great power of Hashem. It’s shocking at first glance to read that Moshe consented to this bargain. But the Midrash is teaching us that before he had the revelation at the Burning Bush, even the great Moshe did not really understand the G-d of the Hebrews. He knew that his people had their own god, but didn’t understand the idea of monotheism and what it means to “serve” G-d.

Moshe before the sneh

Moshe was no different from anyone else of his time. In the pre-Torah world, man viewed religion as a means of garnering favor from the gods. The deal with Moshe was merely Yisro’s way of blending two cultures with two different religions and deities. People in the ancient world believed that their deity was the key to receiving benefits, and Yisro simply wanted his grandchildren to have the best possible future, by having the gifts of both cultures’ gods. The reason why Moshe agreed was because he was still in his pre-revelatory stage, where he, too, understood religion the same way Yisro did. But once Hashem revealed Himself to Moshe as the unitary Y-H-V-H, Moshe completely adjusted his paradigm. The dilemma now was: how would he deal with his wife and her family? Could they, too, adjust to this new religious perspective? And what about his father-in-law, who was a high priest of Midian?!

Moshe after the sneh

Moshe tried to explain the new concept of monotheism to his father-in-law. In v. 8, Moshe related to Yisro all the different travails they’d encountered after leaving Egypt, and how Hashem had saved them from each situation. Moshe was trying to communicate that there was one G-d who controls all the forces of the world and takes care of all our needs. The Midrash expresses this by stating that Moshe described to Yisro how the Manna could taste like anything one wanted. With a G-d like that, why hedge your bets with multiple deities? The Torah records that (v. 9) “וַיִּ֣חַדְּ יִתְר֔וֹ”, Yisro rejoiced over hearing the news. But the word “וַיִּ֣חַדְּ” is a strange language to describe happiness. Rabbeinu Bechaye suggests that it comes from the word “אחד” – “one.” That is, Yisro tried to envision what Moshe was describing, a G-d who was so all-encompassing that He could address any situation and control any force of nature. Yisro’s comments to Moshe (in v. 11), that he now saw that the G-d of the Jews was the most powerful of all the gods (“עַתָּ֣ה יָדַ֔עְתִּי כִּֽי־גָד֥וֹל יְקֹוָ֖ק מִכָּל־הָאֱלֹהִ֑ים”), demonstrated to Moshe that as much as Yisro tried to adapt, he was simply too set in his ways to appreciate this new concept. He mused: Yisro believes in my G-d, and that He is more powerful than the other gods. But he still views a pantheon of different divine beings with different powers, and he just wants to curry favor from my G-d along with the rest of them.

Yitro recognizes God

The verses document that after Yisro heard about all the miracles, he offered sacrifices to Hashem. But in reality, this was not a real “offering” in the way Jews bring korbanos. Rather, the Torah states that (18:12) “וַיִּקַּ֫ח יִתְר֨וֹ” – Yisro “took” offerings to Elokim. The sacrifices weren’t “offered” but “taken;” they weren’t given to Y-H-V-H, which is the normative term when dealing with korbanos, but rather to Elokim. Moshe’s observation of Yisro’s attitude is the reason why Aaron and the elders partook of Yisro’s sacrifice (ibid.), but Moshe is not mentioned in the verse. Realizing that Yisro was still a pagan priest, he could not bring himself to enjoy a “sacrifice” brought in that spirit even though it was being offered to Hashem. For the same reason, Moshe sent his father-in-law away before the giving of the Torah (v. 27), since Yisro would not have been able to appreciate the experience.

Yitro now, before matan Torah

This is why this story is especially relevant before the giving of the Torah. We now gain a new perspective on the way Hashem addressed the Jewish people before Matan Torah. The novelty of this new religion being introduced at Mt. Sinai was that it called upon the nation to worship G-d not as a means of currying favor, but rather of elevating man into conjunction with the G-d of heaven and earth. In introducing Judaism to the nation, Hashem thus did NOT say: “I will become your G-d,” but rather (19:5) “You will become to Me a treasure from among the nations,” and (19:6) “You will be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” There is not a quid pro quo offered here, such as, “If you worship Me, I will give you blessings and gifts in this world.” While all that is true, that was not the foundation upon which Judaism is predicated. We became G-d’s children, and that itself was the ample reward.

The void of Gershom & Eliezer's story

What can we learn from the story of Moshe’s two sons? We don’t know much about them, but we do know that in a pre-Torah world, where mankind had a primitive and purely utilitarian view of religion, even one’s children were used as pawns in order to find favor with the gods. I think each of us should ask ourselves the following: (1) Is my view of religion like that of Yisro and pre-Torah man? Do I view my observance as a means of currying favor with G-d and deflecting pain and suffering? Or do I recognize the ennobled function of post-Torah Judaism, which is to cleave unto Hashem, to emulate Him and to have a meaningful connection to Him? (2) Is my G-d in “competition” with the gods of other religions? Do I view other faiths with suspicion and xenophobia because they worship differently from me? Look at what happens when people of other faiths look at Jews with suspicion and scorn. Let’s try and embrace a more sophisticated religious lesson: As long as man is trying to narrow the gap between heaven and earth, between himself and the Creator, we should accept each other despite our differences, and live and let live. (3) Finally, for those of us blessed with children, we all have a Gershom and an Eliezer, but sometimes in the same child. It’s very difficult raising children in today’s world, with the conflicting values and messages between the Torah and secular society. It’s very hard for a child to know if they will belong to paganism or Judaism. The Golden Mean of finding some reconciliation between the good within modern man and the Torah is not beyond our grasp, but we must be careful not to give up on any of our children in order to make a deal with Yisro, or any other person in our lives. Make sure your child is “the one.” May our efforts to live the Torah’s enlightened religious message bring us to the Redemption, bb”a.