Yitro's Blueprint for Justice

 

One of the themes of this week’s Parasha, Yitro, discusses the importance of establishing a properly structured judicial system. The subject is introduced by Yitro, the Priest of Midian and Moshe’s father-in-law. As the experienced and well-established leader of Midian, he is aware that the founding of a fair, accessible and just judicial system is one of the most important pillars of any society.

When Yitro observes Moshe judging the people alone, from morning to night (18:13), he identifies two problems. The first is his concern for Moshe’s well-being, He is worried that, eventually, Moshe “will surely wear” himself “out” (18:18). The second danger that Yitro sees is communal stagnation. It may cause restrictions or a delay of justice and weaken the people, "so the people that are here with you” (18:18). In other words, justice that depends on a single figure, no matter how heroic that figure is,is unsustainable. 

“Moshe,” explains Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, “must learn to delegate and share the burden of leadership.” (Covenant and Conversation, Justice or Peace)

Towards that end, Yitro proposes a model for a judicial structure. The court system which he introduces is decentralized, tiered and hierarchical. It includes the appointment of "chiefs of hundreds, chiefs of fifties and chiefs of tens” who will judge the people on a regular basis (18:22). It resembles the structure of a pyramid. Whereas routine and simple cases are handled locally, difficult cases are escalated upward by the chiefs at the bottom of the structure; difficult or precedent-setting cases reach Moshe.

As far as judges are concerned, Yitro does not ask for charisma or brilliance but moral reliability. According to him, they should possess four traits: competency, fear of G-d, commitment to truth, and display aversion to corruption.

This is the Torah’s first explicit institutional design - a blueprint for governance.

Though Yitro’s suggested system is not democratic in a modern sense, it is anti- tyrannical and is remarkably advanced for its time. In order to fully understand its novelty and unique nature, one must delve into the practices of the Ancient Near East, the backdrop against which Yitro formulated his scheme.

In most ancient Near Eastern societies, such as Egypt and Mesopotamia, the king was seen as the god-appointed source of law, and justice flowed downward from him. Yitro’s system takes a very different approach. Instead of placing all authority in one ruler, it spreads judicial power among local judges chosen for their moral integrity.

This change is not just about efficiency; it reflects a new understanding of law itself. Law is no longer tied to a single leader but stands above all leaders, grounded in ethical responsibility and covenantal duty. In this way, Yitro reshapes familiar ancient structures to create a system of justice that is limited, accountable, and attainable, quietly but decisively challenging the royal model of justice that dominated the ancient world.

In a way, Yitro’s proposed structure anticipates key principles of the modern judicial system, especially in terms of accessibility, appeals and distributed authority. It marks the Torah’s rejection of solitary, sacralized power and the birth of what Sacks refers to as a “covenantal society” in which authority is shared, law is institutionalized, and leadership is morally accountable rather than charismatic.

Shabbat Shalom

The Four Stages of Redemption

 

                                                   

Parashat Va’era, spanning chapters 6:2 through 9:35, in Shemot (Exodus), marks the turning point in the Exodus story. After Moshe’s first failed encounter with Pharaoh, G-d reassures him that redemption will now unfold through divine power. G-d reveals Himself to Moshe by His holy name, emphasizing faithfulness to His promises, and announces the beginning of the plagues that will break Egypt’s hold over Israel.

At the heart of the h stands G-d’s great promise of redemption, expressed in four stages (Shemot 6:6–7):

“I will bring you out” – God will ease the people’s suffering and remove them from the crushing burden of slavery.

“I will rescue you” – God will free Israel from Egyptian domination and bondage.

“I will redeem you”  – God will act as Israel’s Redeemer through miracles and judgment, restoring their dignity as a nation.

“I will take you to be My people” – Redemption reaches its highest point when Israel enters a covenant with God at Sinai.

Classic commentators understand these four expressions of redemption, and at the same time, each adds a different layer to what “redemption” really means.

Rash”i, for instance,  reads the verses very concretely and sequentially. Each act of G-d is a distinct stage: relief from the burden of labor, freedom from servitude,                                                              redemption through miracles and judgments and becoming G-d’s people at Sinai. For Rash"i, redemption moves from physical relief to political freedom to divine intervention to spiritual destiny.

Ramba”n differs in his commentary on the term “redemption.” For him, the Exodus from Egypt is not redemption. True redemption, he believes, happens when Yisrael becomes G-d’s People and G-d becomes their G-d. Whereas the first three stages are historical, he asserts,  the fourth is theological. Freedom without Covenant. is incomplete freedom. (Mikra’ot Gedolot, Shemot 6:6–7).

Sforno, another classical Jewish scholar, sees the four stages as a movement from existence to mission.  The first three stages ensure survival and freedom from oppression and the restoration of dignity. The final stage, “and I will take,” he believes, gives purpose. Am Yisrael is not just saved from something. It was saved for something, to become a moral nation dedicated to G-d’s service. (Sforno on Exodus 6:6-7). 

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. Rav Hirsch reads these four stages as a pedagogical process. Slaves must learn firstly that suffering is not destiny. Then they have to learn that power does not define truth. Then they must learn that G-d redeems history. Finally, they must learn that Freedom is service to G-d, not independence from all authority. Each step trains them to understand what freedom really means (R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, Commentary on the Torah, Exod. 6:6–7).

Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik interprets the four expressions as the transformation from a people of fate (victims of history) to a People of destiny(G-d’s partners in shaping history. The first three stages remove oppression. The fourth gives Am Yisrael identity and responsibility. Redemption is not merely being freed from Pharaoh; it also means being called to G-d (Reflections of the Rav, Vol. 2, pp. 88–114).

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks explains that the four expressions of freedom show that Redemption is not just liberation from tyranny, but transformation into a People of covenant and responsibility. Sacks emphasizes that the Torah defines redemption not as liberation alone, but as liberation plus law. Many nations escaped tyranny in history.  Yisrael escaped tyranny and entered a covenant and vowed to fulfill its moral code and its values. Freedom without values leads to chaos. The covenant turns freedom into responsibility. For Sacks, the four expressions trace the journey from slaves→ to citizens→ to a holy nation. (Sacks, Jonathan. Covenant & Conversation: Exodus – The Book of Redemption. Commentary to Exodus 6:6–7 Parashat Va’era).

These four stages of redemption are the basis for the four cups of wine at the Pesach Seder-each cup celebrating one stage of redemption.

However, immediately following the four phases in the parashah comes a fifth one, “I will bring you to the land” (Shemot 6:8). Why is it not counted among the four? 

Rash"i suggests that the promise of the land, as mentioned in the above verse, was not fulfilled for that generation. He bases his assertion on the Torah itself, where it shows that the Exodus generation was redeemed from slavery but not yet ready for life in the land, so the final stage of redemption had to wait for their children — turning the fifth expression into a promise of future completion, not immediate fulfillment. Some scholars explain that this is why we pour the fifth cup, Elijah's cup, at the Seder, - a symbol of the redemption still to come.

                                                              Elijah's Cup (inscribed on it, Shemot 6:8)

 
Ramba”n disagrees with Rash”i. For him, all five expressions form one unified process of redemption. Even if the Exodus generation did not physically enter the land, the promise of “and I shall bring you” was still genuinely part of their redemption. A promise made to Yisrael, according to Ramba”n, can be fulfilled across generations and still be considered the fulfillment of that original redemption.

Parashat Va’era opens at the darkest moment of Israel’s story. The people are crushed by slavery, Moshe is disheartened, and even Pharaoh seems more powerful than before. It is precisely here, in the depth of despair, that G-d introduces one of the Torah’s most enduring promises — the four expressions of redemption. These phrases do more than predict the Exodus; they define what redemption truly means in Jewish thought. Redemption is not a single dramatic escape, but a process — moving from relief from suffering, to freedom from oppression, to national restoration, and finally to covenantal purpose. Parashat Va’era teaches that true freedom is not merely leaving Egypt, but becoming a people who live with meaning, responsibility, and divine mission.

Unbroken Chains

 

 

 

                              I am Yoseph. Is my father still alive? - Bresheet (Genesis) 45:3

It was over three decades ago when I was first introduced to the book “Popes from the Ghetto - A View of Medieval Christendom" by Rabbi Joachim Prinz. The book details the lives and influences of three medieval popes who emerged from Rome’s powerful, Jewish Pierleoni banking family, exploring their rise, conversion and impact on the Church amidst anti- Semitic tensions. 

 One of the Popes that Rabbi Prinz writes about is the legendary figure of the Jewish Pope from Mainz (often referred to as Andreas, Johannes or Elchanan in variants). The most prominent version of this legend features Pope Elchanan as the son of  Rabbi Simeon the Great of Mainz. As a child, Elchanan was kidnapped and brought to Rome by his nursemaid. He was baptized, raised as a Christian and due to his intellect, rose through the Church hierarchy to become pope. Years later, the Pope, either due to a sense of his forgotten origins or due to his father traveling to Rome to intercede against anti-Jewish decrees, summons his father, Rabbi Simeon, for a meeting. During a game of chess they play, the father recognizes a specific, unique move that he had taught only his son which disclosed to  him the identity of the pope and which Elchanan confirms. In most versions, the Pope either secretly returned to his Jewish faith or disappeared to return to Mainz or committed suicide as an act of Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of G-d’s name).

This Jewish folklore story has always captivated me as it reminded me of the encounter between Yoseph and his brothers where he reveals to them his  true identity as recounted in this week’s Parashah, Vayigash.

Yoseph lives under a hidden identity in Egypt. He is an Egyptian viceroy with an Egyptian name (צפנת פענח Tzofnat Pa'aneach), dress, and language. His concealment is necessary for survival and ascent, not deception for its own sake. Like him, the Jewish Pope hides his Jewish origin to survive and rise within the Christian to the highest possible power.

Though  for  Elchanan, concealment is portrayed as divinely guided, in Parashat Vayigash Yoseph’s true identity is known only to G-d (45:8-9) - until the right moment. Their hidden identities is not falsehood and is not perceived as morally corrupt. It is latency. Truth waits for the moment when revelation can heal rather than destroy.  

In these two narratives, identity is disclosed within the family first, before the public or the world. The most sacred truth is shared privately. The revelation is motivated by filial devotion and not theological rebellion or political or personal gain.

What one might find most striking, though, is how influential and domenant the father figure, in the lives of Yoseph and Elchanan, is. Yoseph’s disclosure, “I am Yoseph, is my father still alive?” indicates that his entire concern surrounds his father’s health. The Pope, as the legend shares, reveals his Jewish identity only to his father, often secretly. 

However, what is most important is that the two stories teach us the same valuable lesson. They illustrate to us that the identity of one's essence is inherited and indestructible. It cannot be erased by exile, costume or role.

In the twin accounts, Yaakov and Rabbi Simeon are able to recognize their sons despite the radical transformation that they had undergone. Yoseph is unrecognizable outwardly. He is Egypt's ruler, dresses differently and speaks Egyptian. Yet, according to Jewish sages, Yaakov recognizes him, before he even gets to meet him face to face, or hear his voice. Their claim is that Yaakov did so by “continuity of spirit” which in Judaism is referred to as L’Dor V’Dor (from generation to generation). It means actively passing down Jewish identity, values, learning, and rituals from one generation to the next, ensuring the survival of Jewish Peoplehood.

These  scholars  mainly base their assertion on Bresheet 45:27, where it states, “When they [Yaakov’s sons] told him [Yaakov] all the words of Yoseph that he had spoken to them…..the spirit of Yaakov, their father, revived.”

Rash”i, citing Bresheet Rabbah (94:3) explains the words of Yoseph very specifically. There, the sages claim that Yoseph’s words sent Yaakov a sign, the last Torah topic they had studied together . In other words, the message Yoseph sends is pure Torah, not just any Torah but shared Torah, the one learned together by father and son. Yaakov recognizes Yoseph because the chain of Torah was unbroken.

Like Yoseph, Elchanan, “The Jewish Pope” crossed an unbridgeable cultural and religious divide. Similarly to Yaakov, Rabbi Simeon identifies his son by the move of the chess game, a shared experience that was unique to them. 

The bond between father and son in the two accounts transcends institutional and theological boundaries. 

Ultimately, these two narratives—one biblical and one legendary—converge on the same enduring truth: identity rooted in sacred relationship cannot be erased. Power, exile, and transformation may obscure origins, but they cannot sever the bond forged between father and son, teacher and student, generation and generation. Yoseph is revealed not by royal garments but by shared Torah. Elchanan is unmasked not by papal authority but by a remembered chess move. In both cases, recognition comes through continuity rather than confrontation, through memory rather than spectacle.

Sukkot and Pesach -Two Facets of Jewish Epistemology

 

    

Pesach represents the love of G-d for his people. Sukkot represents the love of the people                                                                               for G-d." - Rabbi Jonathan Sacks ZT"L

  

Many years ago, I was watching an episode of “The People’s Court” with the late Judge Wapner. It was about a lawsuit presented by a person who lived on Malibu beach. His issue was with his Jewish neighbour who decided to erect a “hut,” during this time of year. The “hut,” he claimed, blocked his view of the ocean.

In his ruling, Judge Wapner gave the defendant one week to remove the “hut.” Everyone was satisfied with his decision.

Naturally, being Jewish, Judge Wapner knew the reason for erecting the “hut.” He knew that the suspicious “hut” is called a “Sukkah.” Having been raised in an orthodox home, he was aware of the commandment calling upon us, Jews, “Speak to the people of Israel, On the fifteenth day of this seventh month and for seven days is the Feast of Booths (Sukkot) to the Lord.” (Vayikra-Leviticus 23:34).

Now that we know the commandment, let us take it one step further and provide the reason for celebrating the Holy Day. The answer is provided in Vayikra 23:43,

“So your descendants will know that I had the Israelites live in temporary thatched huts when I brought them out of Egypt. I am the Lord your G-d.”

Clearly, Sukkot, just like Pesach, commemorates the Exodus from Egypt. As the Torah tells us, throughout the wanderings in the desert, Am Yisrael was living in huts or sukkot.

Some believe that since both Pesach and Sukkot commemorate the same event, the Exodus from Egypt, they should be celebrated at the same time.  After all, it could be much more pleasant to have a Seder outdoors, in the Sukkah, during Springtime when Pesach occurs, than in the Fall when Sukkot takes place.

The question as to why Sukkot is observed separately and why it was set to take place at this time of year, Fall, engaged many Jewish scholars.

Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, also known as “Baal Haturim,” explains that during the spring and summertime, many people tend to sit under an awning or in a shade to protect themselves against the rays of the sun. Had we built Sukkot during Pesach, we would not have been able to discern as to whether we sit there for the sole purpose of performing a Mitzvah or merely for our own pleasure. However, when the rain starts and people generally seek cover in the comforts of their homes, we elect to go out and sit in the Sukkah to demonstrate that we perform G-d’s commandment.

The Vilna Gaon offers another explanation. He believes that that Sukkot is the time when the clouds of reverence returned to wrap Am Yisrael after they were removed subsequent to the sin of the Golden Calf.  The Gaon asserts that soon after his descent from Mount Sinai, Moshe decreed the building of the Mishkan. Upon commencement of its construction, there was reconciliation between G-d and Am Yisrael and the clouds returned. The Holy Day of Sukkot was solemnized to commemorate that moment in our history.

In my opinion, there is an educational component in separating Pesach and Sukkot on the Hebrew calendar. As mentioned above, a golden thread runs through these Holy Days. On both, Torah charges that we should stress the importance of teaching our children and our future generations the significance of freedom from the house of bondage. On Pesach, we are commanded, “And you shall tell your son in that day,” (Shemot, Exodus 13:8-9). A similar decree, as we saw above, is given regarding Sukkot, “So your descendants will know…” A lesson of such immense prominence needs to be reinforced and repeated lest we forget it.  Spacing its review every seven months, which is the span of time between the two Holy Days, is one way to ensure its absorption and retention.  

 The late Rabbi Sacks, quoting Rabbi Akiva, offers yet another explanation as to why Sukkot is celebrated in the Harvest time. According to him, the answer lies in the prophecy of Jeremiah who states,

“Israel is holy to G-d,

The first fruit of His harvest.” (Jeremiah2:2)

Just as during Sukkot,  “the Israelites celebrated their harvest,” states Sacks, “so G-d celebrates His – a people who, whatever else their failings, have stayed loyal to heaven’s call for longer, and through a more arduous set of journeys, than any other people on earth.”

Hoping and praying for better days.

Am Yisrael Chai 💖

A Little Known Part of the Shoah

 

The following is an English translation of a Face Book post of Mr. Haim Taib. It was written a few hours before he, along with his family, partook in the “March of the Living” in Auschwitz' last week.

 

“In a few hours, I will have the privilege to participate in the “March of the Living” in Auschwitz and light, for the first time, a memorial torch in commemoration of the glorious Tunisian Jewish community which was conquered by the Nazis and suffered anti-semitic persecution, forced labour and hunger.

As a third generation to Tunisian Shoah survivors, I will lead he march, while carrying in my heart my grandfather, Haim Taib, after whom I am named, who was sent along with thousands of Jewish men, to forced labour camps and came back skin and bones, beaten and bruised.

Tunisia was conquered by the Nazis in November 1942.

The German launched a policy aimed at destroying Jewish life. Community institutions were closed, many Jews were fired from work, children were kicked out of schools, heavy fines were applied, private properties were confiscated and about 5000 men were forcefully enlisted to construction camps and fortifications.

My father, who was merely five years old at that time, would recall painfully how the German soldiers, dressed in ironed, grey uniforms, burst into the house, crushed personal items with their boots and confiscated his father’s radio and his mother’s sewing machine.

My grandfather, Haim and Zion, my grandmother’s brother, were taken to forced labour camps.

The following months filled the family with fear and concern. The German soldiers frequented Jewish homes in search of healthy and able men.  Sirens were wailing, shells were fired, and explosions heard daily. Roaming the streets ceased, windows were covered with dark fabrics and blackness befell the city, in an effort to defend against bombing of the allies which were directed at the anti-aircraft posts which the Germans deliberately scattered in civil neighbourhoods.

Four months later, Haim and Zion suddenly appeared at home. They were thin and bruised, their clothes torn, their faces unshaven and their hair messy and lice ridden. My grandmother, Koka, burst into tears of joy. She gave them food and boiled water so that they could shower and clean themselves. My grandfather recounted that he was sent to a deserted field, not far away. There the Germans ordered him to construct a forced labour camp. They were able to escape since in the last weeks, the German security loosened and under the blanket of one of the Allies bombings, he and his friends were able to escape from the camp.

On Friday, May 7^th, 1943, my father woke up to the sounds of joy. “The war is over!” shouted my grandfather and everyone ran out of the house still wearing their pajamas. The streets were buzzing with people, music, and dancing. Seven months of siege, bombing and suffering had come to an end.

Only two years later, when the family members were exposed to the horror movies which the Nazis had filmed in Auschwitz, were thy exposed to the horrible truth regarding the unfathomable size and cruelty of the Nazi plan for the Jews of Tunisia, Algiers, Libya, Morocco, and Egypt

Almost eighty years have passed since that dark era in history, and here we are, living in a Jewish and Democratic state that promises all of its citizens and pledges that the horrors of the Shoah will never be repeated.

Today, I shall march in the “March of the Living” and will light a memorial torch to commemorate the Jewish communities of Tunisia and North Africa who had they not been freed when they were, would have suffered the same fate as European Jewry.

I invite all of you to join me, here on my Face Book page to the live stream of the “March of the Living” and the ceremony of torch lighting starting at 14:00 on this link: https://fb.me/e/10M9dcDWd

My parents, Eliyahu and Janet Taib, of blessed memory, who were children at that time, tell of their memories from the Nazi conquest of Tunisia. Please watch the video

Here is the link to the Face Book post:

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid02m3zwpw8gv9C7o9FLWTGWGiXz4WANXiU2mMdcf8b5XjQQYivpH12LvwYGVNLAiYQQl&id=100062202317825&mibextid=Nif5oz

"B’Shalach,” Denotation vs. Connotation

 

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” –Mark Twain

On several occasions, I have lectured and written about the challenges that translation poses. Through translation, we are exposed not only to different languages, but also to the lifestyle, customs, and world view of those who speak those languages. Such “cultural exchanges,” through their creators prompted people like George Steiner to say: “without translation, we would live in districts that border silence.” The same tone emanates from Anthony Borgess who maintains that “Translation is not a matter of words only; it is a matter of making intelligent a whole culture.”

This brings me to this week’s Parashah, B’Shalach. It gets its name from the verse that opens it “VaYehi B’Shalach Par’o et ha’am” Shemot (Exodus) 13:17. The English translation of the verse states: “When Pharaoh let the People go…”

The Hebrew verse and its English translation, I believe, do not convey the same message. Their incongruity is an example of the difference between “denotation,” the literal definition of the word and “connotation” which is an idea or feeling that the word evokes aside from its literal definition. The translation, in my view, misses a very important aspect of the history of our Jewish culture.

The Hebrew word, “shalach,” literally means “sent.” Yes, it also means “release.” However, the translation into “let go” is, in the words of Twain, not “the right word,” it is, rather, “the almost right word.” Had the Torah wanted to tell us that Pharaoh ‘Let” the people go, it could have used a different Hebrew word such as “"תן which means precisely “let” or “allow” and which expresses the same notion as the English translation purports.

There is a reason, in my view, that the Torah uses the word “shalach”. It is a major component of the story of the Exodus and plays a big role in forming the essence of what has later become Am Yisrael. In fact, the choice of that specific word has engaged many Biblical scholars over the centuries.

Ohr HaChaim (Rabbi Moshe ben Atar 1696-1743) not only wonders about the choice of that word. He also goes one step further and poses the following question, “why did the Torah use “when Pharoah sent” rather than “when G-d took us out of Egypt?”

The root, “shalach,” is used each time Moshe turned to Pharaoh in a plea to release the people. G-d, according to Ohr Ha’Chayim, wanted to teach Pharoah a lesson. He wished to coerce Pharaoh into releasing and sending away the people against his will, if merely to avenge for the latter’s boldness and audacious statement: “who is the Lord that I should obey him and send Yisrael’ I do not know the Lord nor shall I send Yisrael” (5:2). Furthermore, G-d delivered on his promise to Moshe to not only bring Pharoah to release the people but to banish them, drive them out: “Then the Lord said to Moshe, I will bring one more plague on Pharoah and on Egypt. After that, he will send you from here and when he does, he will drive you out completely” (11:1). And that is what indeed happened. Following the plagues that G-d brought upon Egypt, Pharoah eventually caved in and, at the right moment, called Moshe and Aharon in the middle of the night, begged and urged them to hasten their departure, take the people, get out of Egypt and go worship G-d (12:31).

Ohr Ha’Chayim also notes that, according to the Mekhilta*, throughout the negotiations with Pharoah, Moshe keeps asking him to send, liberate his people, “Shalach et Ami,” which is of paramount importance. The Exodus must have Pharoah’s stamp of approval. Hence the first verse of this Parashah, “When Pharoah sent the people,” comes to tell us that the people left Egypt with permission and lawfully. In fact, all of Egypt implored them to leave: “The Egyptians urged the people to hurry and leave the country. ‘For otherwise,’ they said, ‘we will all die!’” (12:33).

The message of this Parashah is that the people did not leave clandestinely, under the cloak of darkness. They left in broad daylight along with their livestock and other possessions.  Moreover, in 14:5, the Egyptians themselves later admit that they sanctioned the Exodus which is added proof that the people did not run away or leave without prior approval. It is of prime importance to G-d that every human being recognizes that Pharoah and the Egyptians sent the people out of their free will.

Rash”i further elaborates on the choice of the word “shalach.” According to him, the use of the word suggests that Pharoah sent his officials to escort the people to ensure that they return to Egypt after three days (14:5). Rash”i claims that these officials were nothing but “איקטורין” (actors, imposters, even spies). That is what “Erev Rav,” (multitudes) mentioned in 12:38, he explains, means. They were Pharoah’s emissaries disguised as the Children of Yisrael. Their task, suggests Rash”i, was to incite, confuse and cause the latter to sin and eventually return to Egypt.

That, however, is a subject for another article, dear readers.

Shabbat Shalom Am Yisrael and fellow Jews and a wonderful weekend to all

 *A rule of scriptural exegesis in Judaism, attributed to any several authors.

 

The Gift Called Freedom

 

“The Exodus from Egypt occurs in every human being, in every era, in every year and in every day.”    –                                                 Rabbi Nachman of Breslov

 

The concept of Freedom is the central theme in this week’s Parashah, Bo. It tells us that the tenth plague was the last straw that brought about Pharoah’s change of heart and forced him to agree to free the Yisraelites and let them leave Egypt.

Lest they forget the enormity and importance of the experience of that moment in our history, G-d commands Moshe to set up a calendar based on the monthly rebirth of the moon and commemorate the event we have all come to know as Pesach (Passover), “This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you” (Shemot 12:2). Later in the Parashah, G-d commands Moshe to ensure that Pesach always occurs in the Spring, “On this day in the month of Aviv (Spring), you have been set free” (13:4).  Launching and adhering to the calendar is the first mitzvah that Am Yisrael is commanded.

The significance of that Mitzvah is twofold.

The first is related to the concept of time. Time is of essence in our lives. As anyone who has ever been enslaved or deprived of freedom would know, one of the indications of such a state is the inability to control time. The momentous component of time is embedded in this Mitzvah, which comprises of the two verses, above, in which G-d commands Moshe to set up, for Am Yisrael, not just a lunar calendar but to combine it with a solar one (Spring, like the other seasons, are determined by the sun). Since, as we all know, the lunar and solar differ in the number of days, they require synchronization. I refer the reader to an article I wrote on this subject several years ago https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/in-israel-keep-the-gregorian-calendar-but-bring-back-to-wider-use-the-hebrew-calendar-and-reinstate-some-of-our-jewish-pride/ .

The  second important aspect of this Mitzvah is the obligation to remember and remind ourselves that we were, once, slaves in Mitzrayim (Egypt). Now that we are liberated, we are required to evoke the belief that it should remain the backbone of every society. It is our duty, as members of humanity, to ensure that the celebration of Freedom remains the inherent right of every human being, all the time.

Hasidism explains that Mitzrayim (Egypt) stems from the same root as Meitzar which means “a narrow place, a place of confinement.” Yetziat Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt, when Am Yisrael broke the shackles of slavery, is a colossal event (regardless of whether it is a subject of debate among scholars) in world’s history.

As testimony to the scale of that event, I direct the readers to the opening words of the Ten Commandments, which include the most universal moral code. They state:

“I am the Lord, your G-d, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.” (Shemot 20:2).

Rabbi Yehudah Halevi asked Rabbi Yehudah Ibn Ezra, “Why did G-d say, ‘I am the Lord G-d who took you out of Egypt and not I am the Lord your G-d who created the Heaven and Earth?’ which is a much more consequential act than the Exodus?” Ibn Ezra’s response, we are told, was that the virtue of Freedom from bondage is just as significant as the creation of the world, if not more.

G-d expands on the Mitzvah of commemorating the Exodus from Egypt and directs Moshe to command Am Yisrael to observe it, for seven days, each year by removing all leaven from their homes and eating Matzah.

Most importantly, Am Yisrael is charged with the duty to tell the story of their redemption, their liberation from the house of bondage to their children “And thou shalt tell thy son in that day, It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt.” (13:8).

Chaza”l go one step further and state : “In every generation, a person is obligated to regard himself as if he personally left Egypt” (Pesachim 10:5). In line with that directive, some families, symbolically re-enact the Exodus by carrying a small bag and passing it around the table so that each participant can take part in that ritual.

I believe it was Rabbi Sacks ZT”L who best expresses how Jews and Am Yisrael staunchly conform to that Mitzvah when he says: “The Jewish festival of Freedom is the oldest continuously observed religious ritual in the world. Across the centuries, Passover has never lost its power to inspire the imagination of successive generations of Jews with its annually re-enacted drama of slavery and liberation.”

Though the Exodus from Egypt is associated with the Jewish People only, slavery, unfortunately, in different forms still plagues our world. Freedom is, on many occasions, taken for granted. When that happens, it is lost. “The battle for freedom,” tells us Rabbi Sacks, “must continue to be fought and is never finally won.”

Shabbat Shalom Am Yisrael and fellow Jews and a blessed weekend to all.