By Rabbi Zev Leff
The Egyptians started to make the Israelites do labor designated to break their bodies (Shemos 113).
In order to keep Bnei Yisrael occupied so that they would not have time to think about Moshe’s words heralding their freedom, Pharaoh decreed that henceforth the Jewish slaves would have to collect their own straw while maintaining their previous quota of bricks. Why did Pharaoh not just double their quota? In that way, he would have forced Am Yisrael to work harder and would have benefited from a doubling of production.
The Torah describes our labor in Egypt as avodas parech, literally work that breaks the person. Avodas parech is defined as work that has no purpose and is designed just to keep the slave busy (see Rambam, Hilchos Avadim 116). We are specifically forbidden to work a Jewish slave in this fashion (Vayikra 25 43).
Pharaoh understood that nothing so diminishes a person as seeing no purpose to his activity, no result in which he can take pride. Thus he had Jewish slaves build arei miskenos, which can be translated as pitiful cities. These cities, says the Midrash, were built on the foundations of sand, and toppled over immediately after being built, only to be rebuilt again. Thus, doubling the Israelites workload without doubling production fit perfectly into Pharaoh’s plans.
Work can be exhilarating, fulfilling and ennobling, but only when it is melachah-purposeful work, work with a goal. But purposeless work (avodah) only serves to break a person’s spirit. A prisoner in a Soviet labor camp was confined to his cell for ten years and forced to turn a handle that protruded from his cell wall. He was told that the handle turned a flour mill on the other side, but upon being liberated, discovered that the handle was connected to nothing. The realization that he had labored for nothing was more crushing to him than the ten years of imprisonment.
The Talmud (Beitzah 16a) calls the Babylonians foolish for eating their bread with bread. The ba’alei mussar explain that they were caught in a vicious cycle with no purpose other than its own perpetuation. They worked only in order to earn enough bread to have the strength to work another day and earn more bread to sustain themselves for another day. Working to eat so that one can work some more results in a life with no purpose. When the necessity of earning a living is removed from such a life it loses all meaning. That is why so many retirees become depressed, and even suicidal, when they stop working.
Those with Torah are spared this plight, for they realize that everything they do is to secure eternal life in Olam Haba. This recognition gives meaning and value to all of life’s pursuits, for the greater the purpose and goal, the more significant the effort. “Six days shall you labor (ta’avod) and do all your melachah, and the seventh day will be a Sabbath to Your Lord …” (Shemos 20:9-10). What transforms a person’s menial labor (avodah) into purposeful, creative activity (melachah) is Shabbos, the taste of Olam Haba in this world.
The word es bash has the numerical value of thirty-nine, corresponding to the thirty-nine melachos of Shabbos, the creative activities that went into building and maintaining the Mishkan. Thus the opposite of avodas perach-aimless, purposeless work- is meleches hamishkan, meleches Shabbos-purposeful work that leads to eternal results.
Women many times feel that their work is avodas perach, with no lasting results. The clean clothes are soon soiled again, the house messed up as soon as it is straightened. The result of hours of toil in the kitchen are not framed and saved for perpetuity, but quickly devoured. The key to making these chores ennobling and exhilarating is constantly remembering their ultimate goal the creation of an atmosphere enabling each member of the family to function properly and develop his or her ultimate potential.
Moshe was initially instructed to tell Pharaoh that the Jews wanted to leave Egypt for three days of celebration and sacrifice in the desert. Pharaoh was not told of the real intent of their departure so that he could exercise his free will. Had he been told that the Jews wished to leave forever, he could not possibly have granted their request. Klal Yisrael, on the other hand, had to be told the truth about their departure even though the prospect of having to conquer the Land might fill them with dread, for the ultimate goal of Eretz Yisrael gave meaning to the entire Exodus.
In this light, we can understand the following Midrash. Moshe proclaimed, “I sinned with the word az, and I will rectify [my sin] with the word az. I sinned by saying ‘From when (me’az) I approached Pharaoh to speak in Your name, things have gotten worse for the Jewish people’ (Shemos 5 23). And I will rectify [my sin] with the word az-‘Then (az) Moshe will sing the song at the Red Sea’ (Shemos 151).”
Moshe sinned by isolating a moment – Pharaoh’s decree of additional labor – and not placing it in the perspective of the ultimate goal. Had Moshe seen the decree as one more stage towards the eventual Redemption, he would have viewed it differently. Moshe rectified his error when he sang at the splitting of the Sea not only for the moment of present salvation, but for all the future redemptions until the resurrection of the dead. Thus he sang in the future tense.
The Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (1:3) says that one should not serve Hashem in order to receive reward. Rambam (Hilchos Teshuvah 10:1) explains the reward referred to includes even the reward of Olam Haba for fulfilling the mitzvos. Rather one should serve Hashem out of pure love and devotion, with no ulterior motive at all. Yet the Torah is full of verses that exhort us to observe its commandments “in order that you live” or “in order that your days be multiplied,” (see e.g., Shemos 20:12, Devarim 4:1, 4:40, et. al.)- which are understood as referring to eternal life.
The resolution of this seeming contradiction is that the knowledge that the mitzvos result in eternal life gives added dimension and significance to the performance of the mitzvah itself-apart from any concern with the reward of Olam Haba – and thereby engenders greater love for the commandments. In this context, does not mean “in order that,” referring to a consequence of the performance of the mitzvos, but rather “because” in the sense of revealing the true significance of the mitzvos. Recognition of that significance enhances the love of the Creator, Who bestowed His creation with eternal meaning.
To truly appreciate the significance of our mundane pursuits and the mitzvos that constitute our service of Hashem, we must be constantly aware of our ultimate goal of bringing the world to perfection by fulfilling God’s will.
The Measure of a Gadol
The child grew up … It happened in those days that Moses grew up and went out to his brethren and observed their burdens; and he saw an Egyptian man striking a Hebrew man, of his brethren (Shemos 2 10-11).
Ramban, commenting on the apparently repetitive mention of Moshe’s growing up, explains that the first phrase refers to Moshe’s attainment of physical maturity. The second phrase refers to Moshe’s growth in intellectual and spiritual maturity, to his becoming “a man of understanding.”
The Torah proceeds to specify the sign of Moshe’s spiritual maturity the fact that he went out to his brothers and saw their labors. Rashi comments on this phrase that Moshe contemplated their plight and “applied his eyes and heart to suffer with them.”
The mark of a gadol, a person who possesses greatness and maturity, is defined by the Torah in terms of his ability to be concerned with others. The Ribbono Shel Olam is called HaGadol, the Great, and Chazal explain this appellation to refer to Hashem’s trait of goodness and kindness. Therein lies His gadlus. The concern that envelops and permeates all existence is the mark of His unlimited greatness. Hence He is HaGadol.
We are exhorted to walk in Hashem’s ways and emulate His attributes “As He is called merciful, so, too, should you be merciful.” Thus, if Hashem is called HaGadol, we too must strive to emulate this gadlus. Just as He is concerned with all Creation, so must we strive to emulate that all-encompassing concern.
Rabbi Shimon Shkop, zt”l, in his preface to Shaarei Yoshor, addresses the following paradox. On the one hand, man was created with a natural concern for himself and his own personal needs. “Love thy neighbor as thyself” is predicated on self-love and self-concern. And yet, man is exhorted to be concerned with others. Reb Shimon explains that the key to resolving these seemingly conflicting concerns lies in the definition of self.
Everyone possesses their “ani”-the essence of their being. As the Mishnah clearly states in Pirkei Avos (114), “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” However, the definition of this selfhood can be expanded beyond the parameters of one’s physical person.
Many people feel that their spouses are part and parcel of themselves-“His wife is like his own body,” say Chazal. Hence one’s concern for a spouse is included in the natural concern for self. Others extend their self to include their families, still others their neighbors. The more one perfects himself, the more his concept of self encompasses. The truly great person feels all Klal Yisrael, indeed the entire world, as part of his self.
And so, the Mishnah in Avos continues, when my ani is limited to my individual self alone, what is the value of this ani?”
A baby enters this world with a clenched fist. After 120 years, part of the preparation for burial includes the opening of the deceased’s hands. A person comes into this world concerned only with his own needs and desires. His fist is clenched tight. He is closed unto himself. As he matures, he slowly opens that fist to reach out to extend his self to others, to embrace an entire world in his concern. He must exit this world with an open hand.
This outreach of the self is not mere sympathy, but rather a deep empathy and total identification. Hence, it requires applying one’s eyes and heart. It necessitates observing, assessing and understanding the circumstances and needs of others.
But that is not sufficient, for once one has assessed his neighbor’s situation with his eyes, he must open his heart to what he sees-to actually experience emotionally the hurt and pain, the fears and apprehensions, the joys and satisfaction of one’s extended self.
The true gadol is only indirectly measured by how many blatt Gemara he has mastered and the profundity of his pilpul. Rabbi Aharon Kotler, zt”l, explains that Torah learning is the ultimate chesed. When we say, “Talmud Torah is equal to them all,” it is other acts of chesed to which we are referring. For all other kindnesses are specific and limited, but Torah study is the source of existence. If not for constant Torah study the world would cease to exist. How profound and all-encompassing is the concern and kindness of the one who immerses himself in the study of Torah, thereby preserving the entire universe.
The Torah giant is familiar with the entire world. For Torah is the blueprint of the world and only through comprehensive and penetrating knowledge of this blueprint can one gain the eyes to see the world as it really is, to truly be cognizant of the needs and problems of mankind.
The study of Torah and the total immersion in God’s will unites one with his Creator and imbues him with an open heart, with emotional understanding, compassion, and empathy. Only the Torah giant can fully possess the sensitivity that emanates from God’s Torah, which is referred to as Rachmana-the Merciful.
Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzenski, rav of Vilna and gadol hador of the previous generation, kept a written record of all the many and varied charities of Vilna which he supervised. In it were the records of free loans, monies for poor brides, caring for the sick, the guesthouses for poor travelers, and general tzedakah accounts. It was a massive, voluminous record. When a fire destroyed this book, Reb Chaim Ozer reproduced it from memory.
This story is not important for what it tells us about Reb Chaim Ozer’s phenomenal memory, but for what we learn of the importance that he attached to these records.
Our respect for our gedolim is enhanced when we realize that their gadlus in Torah is an emulation of the gadlus of Hashem, which leads them to concern for the entire world.
Appreciating this gadlus should inspire us to strive to extend our concern to include all of our fellow Jews. When we achieve this goal Hashem will reciprocate as He did in Egypt. When Moshe applied his eyes and ears to his fellow Jews, Hashem responded in kind. As the Torah tells us, “And God heard their moaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God saw the Children of Israel; and God knew” (Shemos 2:24-25). And Rashi comments “Hashem put His heart to suffer with them and did not turn His eyes from them.”