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Par sh at B o Ti me For Freedom Ra bbi Ari Kahn "And G-d spoke to Moshe and Aharon in the land of Egypt saying: “This month is the first of the months for you, it shall be the first of the months of the year for you. Speak to the entire Congregation of Israel, saying; on the tenth of this month each person shall take a lamb..." (12:1-3) These verses mark the first Commandments given to the entire congregation of Israel. The Midrash cited by Rashi on the very first verse in the Torah, questioned the propriety of the Torah beginning with so much narrative. One would have assumed that the Torah, being a book of laws, would have begun with a legal section. Rashi specifically asks, "Why didn't the Torah begin with "Hachodesh hazeh - This month is the first..." In the words of the Midrash: R. Jannai said: The Torah need not have been taught save from ‘This month is the first of months for you’ (Ex. XII, 2). Why then did G-d reveal to Israel what was on the first day and what was on the second day up to the sixth day? As a reward for their saying, ‘All that the Lord hath spoken will we do, and obey’ (ib. XXIV, 7). Forthwith He revealed it to them (Midrash Rabbah The Song of Songs I:28) We must conclude that ultimately the narratives of B’reishit and Sh’mot are quite important and are therefore included in the Torah. Nonetheless, the verses cited above should ostensibly have been the beginning of the Torah, or, had they been the beginning, would have been an appropriate one. What, then, is so unique about this section that it should have marked the beginning of the Torah? The simple answer would be that, as we mentioned earlier, this marks the first Commandment given to the entire community. But in a sense, this answer begs the issue. Why was this the first commandment? Surely G-d had at least 613 choices to start the Torah, or at least lead off the Commandments. Furthermore, why was this Commandment given in the land of Egypt? Why couldn't the Jews wait until Sinai for this Mitzvah? We might say that in a sense the Commandment regarding the New Moon is a prerequisite for the Holiday of Passover, which would be celebrated in Egypt. In order to separate a lamb on the tenth of the month, one needs to know when the tenth of the month is. In order to have a "Seder" on the eve of the fifteenth we need to know when the fifteenth is. Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik Zat"zal, explained the rationale for this Mitzvah being taught here and now: The Jews in Egypt were slaves, and, like all slaves, lacked a sense of time. In order to be truly liberated, they had to acquire a sense of time, and thus be transformed from objects to independent people. The concept of time, indeed the ability to legislate time, is part and parcel of the transition from slavery to freedom.

While this explanation certainly gives us insight into the concept of "Kiddush haChodesh," the sanctification of the new month, one could argue that many if not all Mitzvot contribute to the religious personality of the Jew. It is hard to see why this Commandment could not have waited some two months until Sinai. G-d simply could have told Moshe: "In ten days have the people prepare a lamb, and in two weeks we are leaving." I think that an analysis of the Seder which the Jews celebrated in Egypt will help us to understand the importance of this Mitzvah, and why it was indeed commanded at this particular point in time. The Jews were commanded to take a lamb, to slaughter it, and to smear its blood on the doorposts and doorframes. This was certainly liberating, considering that many animals were worshipped in Egypt; to kill the animals, and smear the blood where it could be seen by all, was certainly perceived as an act of defiance, and a rejection of the Egyptian deity. They were then commanded: "Eat the meat (of the sacrifice) that evening, roasted, eat it with matza and maror (bitter herbs)" (12:8) At first glance this verse seems unexceptional; for thousands of years Jews have observed this rite, eating maror and matza on Passover Eve, either with the sacrifice (during the time of the Temple) or by itself. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the Jews in Egypt ate the Passover sacrifice with maror and matza. Yet upon contemplation, a problem arises: Why do we eat maror or matza? The Mishna explains the symbolism of each of these three elements of the Passover Seder: R. Gamaliel used to say: Whoever does not make mention of these three things on Passover does not discharge his duty, and these are they: The Passover-offering, unleavened bread, and bitter herbs. The Passoveroffering is [sacrificed] because the Omnipresent passed over the houses of our fathers in Egypt, as it is said, “Then ye shall say: It is the sacrifice of the Lord's Passover, for that he passed over etc.” The unleavened bread is [eaten] because our fathers were redeemed from Egypt, as it is said, “And they baked unleavened cakes of the dough which they brought forth out of Egypt etc.” The bitter herb is [eaten] because the Egyptians embittered the lives of our fathers in Egypt, as it is said, “And they made their lives bitter etc.” In every generation a man is bound to regard himself as though he personally had gone forth from Egypt. (Pesachim 116b) If so, it indeed seems strange that the Jews in Egypt--prior to the Exodus---needed a memorial, a symbolic reminder, as if they had already forgotten what it was like to be slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Perhaps today we need to eat bitter herbs in order to remind ourselves what the bitterness of slavery was like, but why would the slaves need such a reminder? The matza poses an even more difficult

challenge. The reason we eat matza is also taught in the Mishna: The Jews left Egypt in such haste that they did not even have time for their bread to rise. "The People took their dough before it could rise (12:34)..They baked the dough which they took out of Egypt into matzot for it did not rise (chametz) for they were exiled from Egypt and they could not tarry, and they had not made any other provisions" (12:39) We eat matza because the Jews left Egypt so quickly that the bread they had with them had no time to rise. The obvious problem here is with the matza which the Jews ate at the very first seder: For what purpose did they eat matza in Egypt? Let us consider the sequence of events. G-d speaks to Moshe prior to the first day of Nisan, tells Moshe that there is a concept of New Moons, months and years. He further instructs Moshe to tell the people to prepare lambs for sacrifice by the tenth of the month. The celebratory, festive dinner will take place on the night of the fourteenth (leading into the fifteenth). At midnight that night, the firstborn of the Egyptians will die, and G-d will "pass over" the homes of the Jews who will escape unscathed. Sometime after midnight Pharaoh will come looking for Moshe, and subsequently the Jews will be quickly sent out of Egypt. The actual Exodus will take place in the morning, at which point the Jews will have left so quickly that there will not even be time for the bread to rise-hence the introduction of matza. Again, why eat matza the previous evening? When the Jews ate matza that evening, what was their religious experience while eating it? Surely the reason for eating the matza was that G-d had told them to, and we know today that we eat it in order to remember the haste in which we left Egypt, but why ask the Jews in Egypt to eat dry bread, when the concept of matza did not, as of yet, exist? A passage in the Talmud may shed light on this issue. There is an argument in the Talmud concerning the proper order of the Evening prayer. For R. Johanan says: ‘Who inherits the world to come? The one who follows the Ge'ulah immediately with the evening Tefillah.’ R. Joshua b. Levi says: ‘The Tefilloth were arranged to be said in the middle.’ What is the ground of their difference? If you like, I can say it is [the interpretation of] a verse, and if you like, I can say that they reason differently. For R. Johanan argues: Though the complete deliverance from Egypt took place in the morningtime only, there was some kind of deliverance in the evening; whereas R. Joshua b. Levi argues that since the real deliverance happened in the morning, [that of the evening] was no proper deliverance. (Brachot 4b) Rav Yochanan says that we should first say the Sh'ma at night, followed by the evening Sh’mona Esreh. Rav Yehoshua Ben Levi says that first the Sh’mona Esreh should be recited, and then the Sh'ma. The halacha has adopted the opinion of Rav Yochanan. In addition, this passage has two more points of interest. The first is the comment cited in the name of Rav Yochanan, which serves as the introduction to this passage:

Who inherits the world to come? The one who follows the Ge'ulah immediately with the evening Tefillah. The redemption referred to here is the blessing (Blessed are you...Redeemer of Israel) recited after the Sh'ma. Obviously, only if you say Sh'ma before the Sh’mona Esre can you juxtapose the blessing said after it to the Sh'mona Esre. The reward seems disproportionate for such a mechanical action; after all, how difficult is it to say Sh'ma with its blessing prior to the Sh'mona Esre? The second interesting point is the philosophical reasoning offered in the Talmud as the underpinning for the difference of opinion between Rav Yochanan and Rav Yehoshua b. Levi. The Talmud tells us that the legal argument is based both on exegesis and "s'vara," logic or philosophy: Rav Yochanan is of the position that even though complete redemption did not take place until the morning, there was still a partial redemption in the evening. Rav Yehoshua ben Levi opines that complete redemption did not take place until the morning, and only complete, actual redemption concerns us. According to both sides of the argument, the Redemption from Egypt did not take place until the morning. The question which remains is, how do we view the "darkness before the dawn?" Not only does Rav Yochanan believe that the partial redemption is significant, he states that whoever succeeds in articulating it, is deserving of the World to Come. I heard Rav Nissan Alpert Zat"zal, (son-in-law of Rav Pinchas Sheinberg, and perhaps the talmid muvhak of Rav Moshe Feinstein) explain Rav Yochanan's position beautifully: A share in the World to Come, Olam Haba, is not a reward for juxtaposing the blessing of the Sh'ma with Shmona Esre. Rather, in so doing, you are a "Ben Olam Haba,' a member or participant of the World to Come. You live here in the present but your existence is connected with the future. The individual who can see or experience the Redemption in the darkness of the evening is a member of the World to Come, here and now. The dawn is a time of clarity, stability. The blessing we say in the morning after Sh'ma begins "Emet V'yatziv" -- truth and stability. In the evening the blessing begins "Emet v'emunah"-- truth and faith. In the dawn, when things are clear, faith is simple. In the darkness of the night, faith is much more tenuous. Despite the fact that the redemption does not take place until the morning, the Jew can still trust in G-d to the point that he can literally feel the redemption despite the darkness of the night. The archetype of this behavior took place in Egypt. The night before Redemption, while they were still enslaved to Pharaoh, the Jews smeared the blood of the Paschal lamb on the doors, and then sat down to celebrate the Redemption, because at that point they were free! Although the Redemption had not actually taken place, they were liberated from the oppression of Pharaoh: They believed so completely in the Redemption that they were literally able to taste it. Their trust in G-d was complete. They were still in Egypt physically, but they were miles away psychologically. This was G-d's purpose on that awesome night. Once the Jews felt liberated, they needed to eat from the bitter herbs in order to remind them of the oppression. They were even able to eat the matza which would serve as the

symbol of their rapid exodus--which would take place only the next morning. They knew that they would be leaving so quickly that they would not have time for the bread to rise. They trusted in G-d completely, and literally tasted the future. How ironic, then, the Commandment that every year we are to envision ourselves as if we left Egypt. The Jews in Egypt did just that: They, too, envisioned themselves as if they had left Egypt, the only difference being that they accomplished this by looking into the future, while we must look into the past. “A person is obligated to envision himself as if he left Egypt” (Mishna Pesachim 116b) The selection of Kiddush haChodesh as the first Commandment for the Nation of Israel reflects upon the very nature of Redemption. Redemption is not merely political or geographical. True redemption brings with it complete liberation, physical and psychological. One can imagine if the Messiah were to come today, and bring all the Jews to Israel, and cause all the nations “to beat their swords into plowshares…” that all this would not suffice if we were still psychologically enslaved. For example, if we were still tormented by the horrors of the Holocaust, not understanding the ways of G-d, we would in effect still be enslaved. 1 The Talmud teaches: Rav Acha the son of Chanina taught, the future world is not like this world. In this world on good tidings, we say “Blessed is the one who is good and brings good” when bad news arrives we say “Blessed is the true Judge”. In the future the only blessing will be; “Blessed is the one who is good and brings good” Pesachim 50a We see that redemption has a psychological aspect as well. True liberation means freedom from the things that haunt our minds, aside from our physical tormentors. This is what G-d wanted to teach us in Egypt: how to become truly free. There is an old saying that it is easier to take a Jew out of exile than to take the exile out of a Jew. Later on in the Torah the Jews suffer many setbacks during their sojourn in the desert, more often than not due to the inability to free themselves from their past. G-d gave them one glorious lesson in Egypt, on the “art of liberation”. We find this lesson taught by Rabbi Akiva in a celebrated passage: Once again they were coming up to Jerusalem together, and just as they came to Mount Scopus they saw a fox emerging from the Holy of Holies. They fell a-weeping and R. Akiva seemed merry. Wherefore, said they to him, ‘Are you merry?’ Said he: ‘Wherefore are you weeping?’ Said they to him: ‘A place of which it was once said, “And the common man that draweth nigh shall be put to death” is now become the haunt of foxes, and should 1

I believe that I once saw this idea in the writings of the Ramban, in his “Disputation”.

we not weep?’ Said he to them: ‘Therefore am I merry; for it is written, “And I will take to Me faithful witnesses to record, Uriah the priest and Zechariah the Son of Jeberechiah. Now what connection has this Uriah the priest with Zechariah? Uriah lived during the times of the First Temple, while [the other,] Zechariah lived [and prophesied] during the Second Temple; but Holy Writ linked the [later] prophecy of Zechariah with the [earlier] prophecy of Uriah. In the [earlier] prophecy [in the days] of Uriah it is written, “Therefore shall Zion for your sake be ploughed as a field etc.” In Zechariah it is written, “Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, There shall yet old men and old women sit in the broad places of Jerusalem.” So long as Uriah's [threatening] prophecy had not had its fulfillment, I had misgivings lest Zechariah's prophecy might not be fulfilled; now that Uriah's prophecy has been [literally] fulfilled, it is quite certain that Zechariah's prophecy also is to find its literal fulfillment.’ Said they to him: ‘Akiva, you have comforted us! Akiva, you have comforted us!’ (Talmud Makkoth 24b) What did Rabbi Akiva see that eluded his contemporaries? The stark vision of the Temple in ruins was surely enough to dampen the spirits of even the most enthusiastic optimist. At even the darkest moment, Rabbi Akiva saw the Hand of G-d, and the impending Redemption. It is fascinating to note that Rabbi Akiva speaks in the present tense; he literally sees the prophesy of Zechariah as “mitkayemet”, taking place, in process—here and now. For Rabbi Akiva, the dark of the night is the moment before dawn. Where others saw darkness, he saw the glory of redemption. He lived in the present while being a ben Olam Haba, for he had the unique ability to experience the potential of Redemption as a reality. He truly connected Ge’ulah to T’fila. Rabbi Akiva’s uplifting approach had its antecedent in Egypt on the night of the first seder. This is precisely the lesson which G-d gave the Jews, a moment prior to their redemption. By eating the matzo and maror, the Jews were encouraged to taste the impending Redemption. We can now understand why the Torah begins this section with the Commandment to master time. We are commanded to anoint the seasons, to decide when the New Moon has arrived. We are entrusted with the task of determining the nature of time. Will it be sacred, or mundane? At the same time we are taught a powerful lesson: The Jew has the ability to control time, and thus to rise above it; to trust in G-d so completely that the problems of the present are resolved when considered in the larger context of eternity. Will the night be a time of fear, or the final moment before dawn? The ability of the Jews to trust in G-d was the final act that ushered in the Redemption from Egypt. For when a Jew truly trusts in G-d, he becomes part of the World to Come, tasting redemption.