A Fundamental Principle in Economic Justice

 

“You must not withhold the wages of a poor or destitute employee, whether of your brothers or of strangers, in your land or in your cities. You must give him his wage on his promised day—the sun must not set on it, because he is poor, and he risks his life to earn it—that he not cry out to G-d against you, and this sin be counted against you.” Devarim (Deuteronomy) 24:14-15

This week's Parashah, Ki Teze, contains 74 mitzvot (commandments), the most of any Torah portion. It covers family rules, social justice, and kindness to animals. In this article, I decided to focus on one, the prohibition of withholding wages, as expressed in the quoted verses above.

It was one of the most cardinal values instilled in me from a very early age.

“When you engage someone to perform a task for you,” my mother repeatedly taught me, “you should pay that person promptly. For instance,” she always used the same example, ”if you bring your shoes to a shoemaker to be repaired, just know that while he carries out his chore, he is already thinking what to do with the money you will pay him.”

What my mother emphasized is what our Torah commands us, and not just in this Parashah.

Previously, in Parashat Kedoshim,Vayikra (Leviticus), verse 19:14 states, “You shall not leave [with you] the payment of a worker overnight until the morning. The Torah recognizes that, often, a worker, whoever he is, is in urgent need of his wages, be it to feed his family, pay for his children’s education or any other obligations that he or his family might have.

The Talmud addresses the Halachah of the payment of workers. According to it, the verse in Vayikra refers to a day worker who completes his work at the end of the day. In this case, the employer is compelled to pay him before sunrise of the next day.  (Bava-Metzia, chapter 9, 110b)

The second verse, from Devarim, the sages assert, refers to a night worker who completes his work at daybreak, in which case, the employer is required to pay him before the following nightfall. (Bava-Metzia, chapter 9, 111a)

For Ramba”n, the withholding of a worker’s wages is a far more serious issue than an ordinary financial dispute. Ramba”n bases it on the relationship between the verses in Vayikra and Devarim to present a practical reality. Since a labourer usually finishes his work at the end of the day, it is only natural that he needs the money that very evening “so that with his wages he can purchase for himself, his wife, and his children what they will eat at night, for he is poor, as are most who hire themselves out.” (Mikraot Gedolot Haketer, Ramba”n on Devarim 24:15) For Ramba”n, delaying payment can threaten the worker’s physical existence.

Ohr HaChaim (Rabbi Chaim ibn Attar 1696-1743) takes this directive to a different level. He questions the Torah’s use of extremely severe language at what seemingly appears to amount to no more than a monetary theft. In response, Ohr HaChayim shifts attention to the moral and spiritual consequences it carries, for the employer. As the latter part of Devarim 24:15 suggests, there is a golden moral thread that connects the employer, the defenseless worker and G-d. The vulnerable worker cries to G-d, who then holds the employer accountable before Him. It is, as we learn from this verse, a sin against G-d.

Another explanation, a more positive and encouraging one, is offered by the Zohar. Mitzvot, it suggests, should be carried out on the day that the opportunity to fulfill them arises. It, therefore, asserts that the mitzvah of paying wages to one’s worker should not be put off to the next day. (Zohar, Kedoshim 85a)

Shabbat Shalom. Hope we all have a great week, filled with opportunities to fulfill Mitzvot, ahead.

The Fragile Line Between a Camp of Survival and a Community of Destiny

                                                                   Photo by Shutterstock 
 

                                        "Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'." – 

Viktor Frankl “Man’s Search for Meaning

The very insightful quote by Viktor Frankl, above, captures, in my view, the golden thread that weaves through last week’s Parashah, Naso (Numbers 4:21-7:89), and this week’s one, B’ha’alotcha(Numbers 8:1-12:16).* Both Parashot discern one of the Torah’s most profound spiritual tensions and touch upon the brittle line between destiny, Frankl’s “why” and survival, the bearing of any “how.”

To fully appreciate the conceptual bridge between Frankl’s “why” and what is reflected in the messages of both Naso and B’ha’alotcha, I would like to enlist the wisdom of Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ZT”L

In his essay “Camp and Congregation,” Sacks provides a powerful lens which illuminates how in these two Parashot, Am Yisrael is transformed into a nation with a “why,” one that is united by purpose and destiny that will eventually be able to bear the “how.” In his, as always, brilliant manner Sacks distinguishes between two models, Machaneh (camp, collective existence) and Edah (congregation, community) which appear interchangeably in both Parashot. His distinction between the two is built largely on the following Biblical usage. Sacks asserts that whereas a camp is aimed at providing protection, military order and survival,  organized externally, Edah, is organized internally and carries a deeper significance. Edah, according to him, is the inner essence of the camp, not merely a random, anonymous crowd struggling to survive. What unites its dwellers are interpersonal ethics, a covenantal connection, welded by a shared mission and a shared destiny, the “why.”

Parashat Naso focuses on transforming Am Yisrael from a wandering camp into an Edah, a holy community centred around the Mishkan, which defines its Divine purpose and sacred mission. It constructs the structure for what is necessary for an Edah. At this point, it is noteworthy to mention that though the word “Edah” itself is not, literally, prominent in this Parashah (it appears much more cogently in later Parashot, particularly in times of collective failure and collective responsibility such as Korach), it develops the substance of what is to become, later, Edah. Naso plays a key role in the process of embedding the concept of “why.”

B’ha'a’lotcha illustrates that we  need an occasional jolt, in the form of a harsh experience, to remind us of the “why.” The Parashah describes the hardships that the journey into the desert poses. We witness how quickly the vision of the “why” can unravel once despair and fears settle in. The people express frustration and a wish to go back to Egypt. "The Yisraelites… began to cry. They said, ‘who will feed us meat?’ We recall the fish that we ate in Egypt freely, the cucumbers, the watermelons, the leeks and the garlic.” (11:4-5). The desert challenges spawn the first fractures in the community. The Edah of Parashat Naso loses sight of its mission and reverts to being a camp of anxieties.

To be honest, one must admit that the Torah builds the framework for the Covenant before it reveals to Am Yisrael how difficult covenantal consciousness is to follow and sustain in real life. That is the reason, I believe, why just before the crisis described in the verses above, as if anticipating such a spiritual collapse and out of a wish to provide an “antidote” for it, the Torah tells us, in what might seem sudden, unrelated and out of context, that “whenever the Ark set out, Moshe would say, ’Arise, G-d!  May your enemies be scattered and may those who hate You flee from you.’" (10:35)

The Ark represents for Am Yisrael the Covenant, the purpose,  their future-oriented mission and provides them with a meaning. Meaning enables endurance. As long as the Ark was traveling before the camp, it could strengthen and sustain them through the hardships and challenges of the desert regardless of how difficult they may be.

 *Since Yisrael and the Diaspora differ, sometimes, after the Holy Day of Shavuot, Naso was read on the previous Shabbat (May 23, 2026), and B’ha’alotcha on this Shabbat.

Sin and Sin-Offering - The Duality of "Chatat"

 

"God created the possibility of repentance before He created the human capacity to sin." – Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

 

Parashat Vayikra (Leviticus 1:1–5:26) introduces the sacrificial system known as korbanot, which means "bringing close." The Parashah lays the foundation for how humans relate to G-d through ritual, responsibility, and moral awareness.

The chatat (sin-offering) in Parashat Vayikra is one of the most conceptually rich korbanot because it deals not with deliberate rebellion, but with the quieter, more complex realm of unintentional wrongdoing.

Chatat first appears in Bresheet (Genesis 4:7). There, G-d says to Cain "lapetach chatat rovetz - sin crouches at the door; its desire is toward you, but you can rule over it."

In his most striking commentary on this verse, Rash”i explains that chatat has a dual meaning which can be understood in two interconnected ways. One is sin. The other, sin-offering.

On the simple level (peshat), chatat, in this verse means, "sin." Its portrayal, in a personified manner, suggests the image of a lurking, predatory animal, ready to pounce. It is an active, persistent force, always nearby, lying in wait, which, according to our sages reflects the human evil inclination.

Drawing on Beresheet Rabbah (22:6), Rash”i offers another, deeper, midrashic tier to the term. There, the sages interpret the words "at the door" as a sin-offering that is waiting at the threshold. In other words, G-d is telling Cain that even if he sins, he is not doomed, as an offering, an atonement is already available, accessible and is ever present. The threat of sin and the possibility of repair exist side by side.

While not directly commenting on this verse, the Talmud (tractate Yoma 86b) resonates a similar theological principle that Rash”i conjures which is, also, succinctly articulated in Rabbi Sacks’s words above, atonement is built into the structure of creation.

Rash”i’s reading of Beresheet becomes clearer when we reach the chatat offering in Parashat Vayikra. The “crouching sin,” especially the unintentional one, is defined as wrongdoing. The "chatat at the door" in Beresheet is transformed, here, into an actual sacrifice, giving humanity a structured and practical system of repair, thus enabling it to live with imperfection and still thrive.

In Beresheet, G-d says to Cain, "you can rule over it." Unfortunately for Cain, even though, as both Rash”i and Sacks assert, atonement is already in place, there is no structured path leading to it. In Cain’s world, human vulnerability and moral struggle exist, but the mechanisms of atonement are still undeveloped.  

Vayikra, as we can see, forges, for the first time, the "ruling over sin" into a concrete form. It transforms the chatat of Beresheet into a pathway for accountability, and a renewed closeness to G-d, via three stages. The first is recognition of the wrongdoing, the second is bringing chatat (sin-offering) and the final one is engaging in confession and atonement. Whereas in Beresheet, chatat is "lurking" and threatening, in Vayikra, it is institutionalized as a ritual of repair.

There remains, however, one key tension, was Cain’s sin eligible for what Vayikra defines as chatat?

In Vayikra, a chatat is brought for unintentional sin. Since Cain’s act of murder was intentional and premeditated, as Beresheet (4:8) suggests, then even within the later system, his sin would not qualify for a standard chatat. Rash”i, naturally, grapples with this dilemma. According to his framework, the answer is in a twofold message to Cain. The first which suggests that one can master his sin and hints that the path of repair is already available, is delivered to him before the act (4:7). The second focuses on what happens after the act where there is absence of repent when the Torah clearly shows that Cain is speaking to G-d (4:9) but fails to fully repent when no clear confession or transformation is evident.

Whatever interpretation one wishes to accept, one message is clear, the concept of chatat draws a poetic arc across the Torah, one that connects what is hinted in Beresheet and what becomes institutionalized in last week’s Parashah fusing the two into a beautiful symmetry. The Torah transforms sin from something that ambushes a person into something that can be confronted, processed, and corrected.

When Impatience and Spiritual Insecurity Take Over

 

                                   Exodus 32:1-35, illustration from a Bible card published in 1901 by the Providence Lithograph Company 

    "Faith is not certainty; it is the courage to live with uncertainty." – Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

Last week’s Parashah, Ki Tisa covers chapters 30:11 through 34:35, in the Book of Shemot (Exodus). It narrates one of the most dramatic and troubling, yet constitutive, moments in Am Yisrael’s history. I am referring to the episode of The Golden Calf which occurs shortly after the revelation at Mount Sinai.

 Fearing that Moshe may not comeback after his ascent to Mount Sinai, Am Yisrael demands that Aaron, his brother, erect a tangible image that would "go before them.“  The affair provokes a severe crisis between Am Yisrael and G-d, threatening the Covenant they entered with Him, merely a short time earlier. Enraged by this idolatry, Moshe breaks the two stone tablets engraved with the ten commandments, destroys the idol, and punishes the people.

Our sages have grappled with the meaning of this sin, what prompted it and the lessons one may draw from it. Many see it not merely as an act of idolatry but as a psychological and spiritual crisis when Am Yisrael felt abandoned, as expressed in verse 32:1 where the Torah emphasizes the anxiety of Am Yisrael when they believe that Moshe is not going to return,  “When the People saw that Moshe delayed his coming down from the mountain.... For this man Moshe....who brought us up from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.”

Rash"i, more so than other commentators, tends to present the sin of the Golden Calf with a dose of sympathy and frequently stresses the circumstances and confusion that led to it. Though Rash"i does not excuse the gravity of the sin, he reads this verse as describing a crisis of patience. He explains that the Yisraelites expected Moshe to return after forty days but miscounted the days. In his commentary on this verse, Rash"i states that the people included the day Moshe ascended Mount Sinai, while the correct count began the following day causing fear and panic. 

Rash"i cites a related passage inTalmud Shabbat 89a which describes how Satan created the illusion that Moshe died, thus intensifying the People’s fear and impatience. It is important to note, at this point, that in Judaism, Satan refers to the Prosecutor in the Heavenly Court who functions as a prosecuting attorney, testing that faithfulness is genuine, as is the case in the Book of Job. Midrash Tanchuma (Ki Tisa 19) takes this test even farther when it describes how Satan creates a physical, magical illusion of the calf to lead them astray. This symbolic midrash proposes that Am Yisrael’s doubt and confusion were emotionally manipulated causing them to lose patience.

Rash"i further suggests that the People were utterly dependent on Moshe and interprets their request of “make us gods that will go before us,” as seeking a replacement for Moshe as a leader, not a replacement for G-d. Their reference to Moshe as “This man....” signals a moment of psychological distancing and their inability to sustain faith without a mediator between them and G-d.

Like Rash"i, Ramba"n also dwells on the emotional context.  He asserts that since the Yisraelites have only recently left Egypt, after hundreds of years of slavery, their faith is still fragile and is still influenced by Egyptian culture with its visible religious symbols. When Moshe did not return as they expected, their insecurity pushed them to seek something tangible.

However, while Rash"i focuses mostly on the circumstances that led to the sin, Ramba"n analyzes its theological implications. According to him, the Yisraelites did not wish to replace G-d. They intended to replace Moshe with a substitute leader who would mediate between them and G-d, as did Moshe. Through his broader theory of the origin of idolatry, Ramba"n asserts that people who believe in G-d often introduce intermediaries to make divine worship more tangible (Ramba"n Commentary on Torah, Exodus 32:1). This interpretation shows Am Yisrael’s spiritual insecurity and inability to maintain faith without a physical mediator. Mostly, it points out that the nascent Nation, has not yet internalized faith and that when the mediator disappears, faith collapses into insecurity.

The Golden Calf narrative is often understood not only as a prohibition against idolatry but also as a profound exploration of faith, leadership, and the challenges of maintaining trust in an invisible G-d. The story therefore serves as a timeless cautionary lesson about the dangers of substituting immediate comfort for enduring faith. In every generation, the challenge remains the same: whether to succumb to the allure of the “golden calf” in its various forms, or to remain steadfast in the covenantal values and spiritual trust that define the Jewish tradition.

With your permission, dear readers, I would like to conclude with the thoughtful words of my learned friend, Sara Marciano. She draws a compelling analogy between the biblical episode of the Golden Calf and the challenges facing modern-day Yisrael. Marciano suggests that certain sectors of the Israeli elite have amassed considerable power while, in her view, continuing to worship the "golden calf” and embrace values that distance us from our Jewish roots and from our eternal covenant with G-d. “It is worth reflecting carefully,” she writes, “on whether one should continue to bow before the "golden calf," thus aligning with the darker side of history and ultimately being shattered by it, or instead, rise with valour and oppose it.”

I choose the latter. What about you?

Shavua tov and blessings to all.

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

Parashat "Bo" - the Clash of Theologies

 

Parashat Bo (Shemot 10:1-13:16) narrates the final plagues, the breaking of Pharaoh’s resistance, and  the departure of Bnei Yisrael.

The Parashah is not merely about freedom from political bondage or emancipation. Rather, the Parashah records a theological confrontation between two rival conceptions or visions of reality and the displacement of one theology by another. It describes a clash between Egyptian theology, rooted in power, nature, and timeless order, and the Yisraelite theology, grounded in covenantal responsibility, moral history, and sanctified time.

The ancient Egyptians viewed the world as a closed, stable system which is governed by cosmic equilibrium where Pharaoh was a divine figure and the guarrantor of order. Nature was sacred, power eternal and heirarchy immutable. In such a system, slavery was not an injustice but a feature of reality.

Against such a worldview stands the Torah in which G-d is above nature and history and intervenes in both. Unlike the Egyptian mindset, in the Yisralite one, human beings are not fixed within eternal ranks but are capable of transformation and slaves can become a covenantal people.

Midrash Shemot Rabbah explicitly affirms the clash between the two theologies where it  when it states, "Just as He exacted punishment from the Egyptians, so, too, did He exact punishment from their gods (15:22). This reinforces the notion  that the plagues function as a theological judgements, not merely punishments.

Rash"i, likewise, frames the plagues as theological signs, not natural disasters. Rash"i explains that G-d's declaration  "and you will know that I am Lord" (Shemot 10:2) proposes that the plagues are intended to teach knowledge of G-d, not only to Egypt but to Yisrael itself. Most strikingly, in his commentary on Shemot 12:12, Rash"i suggests that when G-d declares, "I am the Lord," He actually means "I Myself and not an angel;I Myself and not an seraph;I myself and not a messanger..."

Here, Rash"i touches upon one fundamental difference between ancient Egyptian civilization and Torah. The Torah excludes intermediaries while the Egyptian religion depended upon them—magic, priesthood, cosmic forces. Redemption requires a direct encounter with the one G-d who stands above nature and hierarchy.

Ramba"n (Nachmanadis) also teaches that the plagues were not random acts of force but a systematic dismantling of false beliefs. According to him, the purpose of the great signs and wonders is to teach belief in G-d, to make known that He created the world, that He knows and supervises individuals, and that He has absolute power over all (Ramba"n on Exodus 13:16).

This view is evidenced in the final three plagues which directly attack Egypt's core beliefs. The eight plague, locusts, aims at showing that nature is not predictable and is under G-d's command. Darkness, the nineth plague is a frontal assault on Ra, the sun-god. The failure and negation of Egypt's central deity causes the collapse of its civilizaion. The darkness which cloakes Egypt where "They could not see each other" is not only physical. It also serves as a metaphore for a society that loses its coherence following such a collapse. Finally, the plague leading the death of the first born is aimed at refuting the Egyptians core belief that Pharaoh is divine and prove that divine lineage is an illusion. These plagues indicate that this is not merely punishment. It is a theological refutation. It is intended at teaching us that the plagues are not random acts of force but a systematic dismantling of false belief. In the final plagues, that theological confrontation reaches its climax.

In his commentary to Bo, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks writes that Egypt sought immortality through monuments, mummification, and dynasties, whereas Judaism seeks eternity through memory, law, and moral responsibility. Pharaoh believes that power is permanent; G-d teaches that only covenant endures. Most importantly, Sacks insists that freedom, in Bo, is not freedom from obligation but freedom for responsibility (Covenant and Conversation Parashat Bo).

Parashat Bo is a sustained, dramatic confrontation between two rival theologies: Egyptian and Yisraelite (biblical/Jewish). The narrative is not merely about liberation from oppression but also about which vision of reality is true. The Exodus is not just an event. It is a theological revolution.

Shabbat Shalom nand every blessing

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.

The Composition of Bresheet (Genesis), Chapter 22

 

In 1976, I was attending the University of California San Diego. One of the courses that I took part in was, "The Composition of the Torah.” The instructor was Professor Richard Elliot Friedman, the author of the best-seller, "Who Wrote the Bible?" It was then that I was exposed to what I am about to share with you, dear readers, in this article. Let me just add that, by sharing the information, it is not my intention to trivialize or disrespect what I consider a very sacred and revered Book. The purpose of writing it is merely to shed light on other views when approaching the study of the titular chapter.

The Torah, as many of us are raised to believe, is traditionally viewed as the word of G-d revealed to Moshe. However, as some may already know, according to some modern scholars,  such as Karl Heinrich Graf (1815-1869) and Martin Noth (1902-1968), and Richard Elliott Friedman, to name a few, it is a composite work, made up of different sources, woven together that were later combined into one book. Each voice contributes its own perspective on G-d, humanity, and Covenant thus creating a text that is both diverse and unified, ancient, yet timeless.

The first of these distinct sources, as identified by researchers, is commonly referred to as J (Yahwist) that uses YHWH for G-d’s name (which, out of respect for my Jewish tradition and my belief in G-d, I will use ONLY for academic reasons). The second one is the E (Elohist) which refers to G-d as Elohim. The other two are P (Priestly), and D (Deuteronomist). Each source tells the story of Yisrael in its own way using different variations of the Divine name and emphasizing different ideas. They reflect distinct patterns, theological perspectives and historical settings. These researchers suggest that a later redactor is thought to have woven the J and E traditions together to create a unified theological message.

Understanding these suggestions helps explain why parallel versions of certain stories such as, Bresheet 12:10-20, J source and Bresheet 20:1-8, E source, to name one, occasionally appear more than once or with slight differences.

Whereas in the Yawhist source, G-d is portrayed as anthropomorphic, a personal G-d that walks, speaks and interacts with humans, as he appears to Moshe in Shemot (Exodus) 3:14-15, and introduces Himself, “This is my proper name, but its pronunciation is to be concealed.” In the J source, He also, often, displays emotions such as love and anger.

In the Elohist source, G-d is transcendent and reveals Himself indirectly through dreams and messengers. It emphasizes fear of G-d and focuses on moral and prophetic themes.

The story of the binding of Isaac (Akedat Yitzchak) in Bresheet 22, one of the themes in this week's Parashah, “Vayera,” offers a striking example of the complexity of this composition. It is one of the most discussed chapters in terms of source criticism which led scholars to suggest that the text may combine E and J strands.

The chapter tells of G-d testing Avraham by commanding him to sacrifice Isaac. It also shares with us Avraham’s last minute rescue of his son when an angel intervenes.

Within this one chapter, the Divine name shifts from Elohim (G-d) to YHWH (The Lord) and the tone of the narrative changes from severe testing to merciful intervention. These features suggest that the account may combine two traditions, one emphasizing obedience and fear of G-d (E), the other, J highlights divine mercy and covenant faithfulness.

Throughout this Chapter, two divine names appear. In verses 1-10, Elohim (G-d) tests Avraham. Avraham Obeys, builds an altar and binds Isaac. Verses 1-14 shift to the J source where YHWH stops Avraham, a ram is substituted and the place is named “YHWH Yireh.” In verses 15-18, the J source of J redactor, offers a second Divine message, the Covenant is reaffirmed and the promise that Avraham’s descendants will be blessed is delivered. Verse 19 which concludes with a remark that Avraham returns to Beersheva is neutral.

Other, more traditional Jewish sages such as Rash”i, Nachmandis, Ibn Ezra and of course, my favourite Rabbi, Lord Jonathan Sacks, have addressed the account of the binding of Isaac and, as always, I highly recommend that the readers take the time to read them. I was  fortunate enough to personally discuss this story with Sacks. Here is his approach and interpretation of  this rather interesting and meaningful chapter.

https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/vayera/binding-of-isaac-new/

Shabbat Shalom