BS”D
HAIL
TO THE HAIL: PARSHAT VOEYRAH
Shira
Smiles shiur - December 22, 2012/Tevet 19, 5774
Summary
by Channie Koplowitz Stein
Parshat Voeyrah brings the power of Hashem to bear on Mitzrayim
to
effectuate our exodus, for this parsha recounts the bulk of the
plagues
Hashem brought on Egypt. While all of the plagues are worth studying
for the
multiple levels of understanding and lessons for our lives, in this
shiur, we
will focus on the plague of barad, hail, and some of the wisdom
it
contains.
A quick comparison to the previous plagues that afflicted Egypt will
reveal
some interesting difference. While in the previous plagues, when the
plagues
were removed, nothing remained in Egypt - all the waters of the Nile
reverted
to water, all the frogs except those in the Nile itself were
removed, and
later, every locust, even those in pickling jars, were removed, here we
are
just told that the hail stopped, but not that it was removed. Further,
Moshe
prayed for the other plagues to end while he was in the confines of the
city,
but for this plague, Moshe had to leave the boundaries of the city to
pray. Why
these differences?
First, our Sages tell us that the plague of hail never fully
disappeared
although it no longer afflicted the Egyptians. Hashem kept it in
abeyance to
use in Joshua’s
battle, and He will again use it at the end of days in the Battle of
God and
Magog. Second, this plague had a special spiritual component, the
subject of
the rest of this shiur, which first required that Moshe extend his hand
above
the earth, closer to heaven to bring on this “miracle
within a miracle”
and then required him to leave the confines of the city to pray for its
removal.
The doubly miraculous nature of this hail is recorded in fairly great
detail in
the Torah itself. This was not your standard hail composed of frozen
water, but
water with a core or a base of fire that rained down from above. As Mizrachi
writes (as cited by Artscroll), the first miracle was that fire hailed
down
instead of rising upward. But the second miracle defied nature even
further,
for fire and water, two elements that generally destroy each other,
made peace
and functioned together. Because this cooperation was a decree from
Above,
Moshe also had to reach above the confines of this world says the Shem
Mishmuel both to bring it on and to remove it.
It seems strange to us that we can talk about inanimate objects “making
peace”,
as if animals and
inanimate objects have thought, feeling and choice. But this is
precisely what
Rabbi Bloch discusses in Peninei Daas and expands more fully
upon in Shiurei
Daas. Heaven and earth, the spiritual and the physical, although
two
separate realms of existence, are connected in many ways. First, all
that
exists on earth first existed and continues to exist in heaven. In that
spiritual realm, Hashem created everything (specifically the heavenly
luminaries) with daas, binah, uvhaskel –
knowledge, insight and discernment (Shabbat liturgy). Thus within the
heavenly
realm, everything still has feeling and choice to follow God’s
will or not. In
the heavenly realm, rocks could argue on whose head the righteous
Yaakov should
rest, for example. In fact, Rabbi Bloch maintains, the verses we
attribute to
each creation in Perek Shira are actually sung by these
creations on
high. For this reason, Moshe could not personally perform the plagues
against
those entities that had somehow saved him in the past, from the Nile
where his
mother hid him to the dirt in which he hid the Egyptian taskmaster.
These
plagues were delegated to Aaron. Therefore we must treat all objects,
and
certainly human beings, with respect.
Rabbi Shimon Schwab in Maayan Beis Hashoevah continues this
line of
thought. According to Rav Schwab the whole world was created with
knowledge. However, when creation was completed and the stamp of
Shabbat
was put upon the world, only Man retained this wisdom while inanimate
objects
no longer have this insight leading to free choice in the physical
realm, when
Hashem brings miracles into the world, when nature again becomes
malleable in
His hands as it was before the first Shabbat, these animals and
inanimate
objects regain the pre Shabbat insight and choice they had during the
period of
creation. Therefore, the dogs could choose not to bark when Hashem
passed over
Mitzrayim and killed their firstborn, and for this choice they are
regularly
rewarded with our table scraps.
Rabbi Michoel Rubiyov in Minchat Michael asks an interesting
question
about this special hail. Why did Hashem deem it necessary to rain down
fire
with the hail? Would not hailstones, which can be as large as ping pong
balls
or even grapefruits, have been enough to cause the damage to the crops
and to
the animals that Hashem desired? Undoubtedly, for those who feared
Hashem brought
their animals into their homes to protect them. However, not all
Egyptians
feared Hashem. Some were filled with chutzpah and had the audacity to
try to
challenge Moshe and his God. They refused to take their animals into
their
homes but instead were going to build outdoor sheds just sturdy enough
to
withstand the hail. When the hail ended, and their livestock would have
survived, they would be able to sneer at Moshe and say that his
prediction didn’t
come true.
Therefore Hashem sent down fire within the hail to burn these shelters
down.
Rabbi Mordechai Druck offers a beautiful homiletic interpretation to
this
partnership between fire and water, In Dorash Mordechai he
writes that
this hail was beloved by Hashem and therefore kept it in existence
after the
plague. Rabbi Druck posits that this hail was formed by the fiery tears
of
anguish and pain that burned the eyes and cheeks of Bnei Yisroel as
they bore
the pain of their enslavement. Feeling the pain of Bnei Yisroel, the
fire and
water came together now to avenge those burning tears. Therefore
this
hail was precious to Hashem, and He saved it for future use. The tears
of Bnei
Yisroel are never in a vacuum, for Hashem always saves them and always
responds, even if not immediately, for He bears our pain with us.
One can approach this phenomenon from a completely different
perspective, as
Rabbi Kofman does in Mishchat Shemen. What was Hashem trying to
teach us
by changing nature in this way? The lesson begins not here, but in
creation
itself, for Hashem, in trying to teach us the importance of peace,
united aish
and mayim to create the very heavens, shomayim.
In the plague of hail these two contradictory entities were again
united to
perform the will of God. If these two entities that are generally
mutually
exclusive can join together in peace, writes Rabbi Gamliel Rabinowitz
in Tiv
Hatorah, certainly we as human beings should be able to make peace
with
each other to do Hashem’s
will in spite of conflicting personalities; we can no longer use our
differences as an excuse for our inability to make peace and work
together in
service to Hashem.
Rabbi Schwab on Prayer takes this idea a step further to include
shalom
bayis, peace between a husband and wife and between parents and
children.
And finally, Rabbi Schwab brings it to the ultimate, to peace within an
individual’s
soul, for the Priestly Blessing ends with vayosem lecha shalom –
May He establish
peace with you.
“Peace
with
you”
can now
be extended, perhaps, to read, “Peace
within you.”
This is the direction Rabi Kofman pursues in discussing the peaceful
coexistence of water and hail. Our very being is comprised of two
conflicting,
contradictory elements, the body and the soul, the physical component
and the
spiritual component of life. The plague of hail was to teach the
Israelites as
well as the Egyptians that Hashem exists within the land, the God and
godliness
exists within the confines of the limited, physical world, and they
must be
able to coexist to serve Hashem. The Torah commands us, “Anshei
kodesh tihiyun
le –
be
for Me a holy people.”
Be human, physical entities, but integrate the physical with the
spiritual, so
that we may come to know Hashem through the physical world as well as
the
spiritual realm, to thank Hashem for our physical pleasures and thereby
raise
them to a spiritual level.
In a scientific analogy, Rabbi Simcha Bunim in Ethics from Sinai
quotes the nefesh hachayim who compares the
spiritual/physical/spiritual
cycle of everything we enjoy on earth to the nitrogen cycle or the rain
cycle.
For every process that happens, there is a corrective, reverse process
that
keeps everything in balance to complete the cycle. Similarly,
everything we
receive on earth comes from Hashem on high. How does the cycle
continue?
Whenever we recite a blessing in acknowledgement of a Heavenly gift, we
are
figuratively returning that gift to God and completing the cycle. Every
physical experience, every food we eat, beauty we see, garment we wear
can thus
be transformed into a spiritual experience, taught the Baal Shem Tov,
the founder of Chassidus.
Everything Hashem does for us is a manifestation of His love. Why then,
asks
Rabbi Wolfson in Emunat Etecha, do we have trouble feeling that
love? It
is due to our difficulty (or refusal) to focus that love on its target
and
return it to Hashem. Instead of loving Hashem, we “love”
an ice cream or our exercise or a movie idol. Like everything else, to
be
effective, love must have boundaries to delineate it, for, as good as
love is,
dispensed toward everything and often to the wrong things not only
dilutes that
love, but often is contrary to what love is meant to be. The most
blatant
example, from the Torah itself, is one who marries his sister. This the
Torah
calls chessed, a form of love. However, this love misdirected
toward a
forbidden individual, has taken love “out
of bounds”
and
created a “foul”.
Love must be
balanced with awe and fear, chessed must be countered with gevurah,
strength and discipline. Avraham, the paradigm of chessed went
to the akedah
with Yitzchak, the paradigm of gevurah, and he took the fire,
also
representing gevurah with him. Avraham and Yitzchak went
together, each
balancing the other.
In a related idea, Rabbi Wolfson notes that Jews use a lunar calendar
while the
rest of the world uses a solar calendar. In much of our tradition, the
moon
represents chessed while the sun represents gevurah. (“May
those who love
Hashem be like the rising sun in its strength”
–
Judges 5:31)
Their gevurah runs rampant, with bloodshed as the rising red
sun. Our
calendar is based on love, but unlike the Islamic calendar which is
also lunar
based, our calendar is balanced with a solar element that keeps the
holidays in
their appropriate seasons. The Muslim calendar has no such
counterbalance, and
Ramadan occurs in different seasons in different years. Their “love”
and “passion”
runs rampant.
Water is often a symbol of love. But unbounded, unrestricted it can
cause
untold damage like raging floodwaters. The unbounded love Egyptians
displayed
in their culture led to rampant promiscuity. When Hashem brought the
hail onto
Egypt, He was showing them that their unrestricted lifestyle was
totally
destructive, just as the hail destroyed everything in its path. But
Hashem also
supplied a lesson for Bnei Yisroel; infuse your love with fire, gevurah,
with the strength of self discipline to keep it from wreaking havoc on
your
world.
Fear and love, like fire and water, can coexist when the fear of God is
not
merely glib or intellectual. When man can fear God on such an emotional
level,
says Rabbi Horovitz as quoted by Rabbi Pliskin in Consulting the
Wise,
that nothing else exists but God and His will, then he will
simultaneously
experience great love for his Creator and he will do nothing that takes
him
away from fulfilling God’s
will and His Torah.
This is the lesson of the hail. Fire and water, strength and love, can
and
should coexist within our societies, within our communities, within our
families and, most importantly, within ourselves.