ENGLISH BO 2013

  YOU MAY NOT KNOW


There is a joke that the kids say here in Israel.- Father and son were going on a long walk together. The son asked his father, “Dad, why does fire rise upward ?”  His father answered, “I do not know, dear son.” A couple of minutes later, the son asked his father, ” Dad, why is the sun yellow and not red?” The father answered, “I do not know, my dear son”. A little while later, the son asked his father a third question . “Dad, why is the sky blue?” “I don’t know, son”.  The son was quiet for a couple of minutes. He then looked up to his father and asked, ” Dad, does it bother you when I ask you questions?” The father answered him – “Son, if you do not ask, you will never know”.

The Rebbe R’ Zusha brings out an important lesson from this weeks parasha, a lesson for life. G-d told Moshe in Egypt that at midnight, (בחצות  ) exactly at midnight, will be the plague of the first born.   Now, it is nearly impossible to know exactly when that is – the split, split second of it.  On the other hand, when Moshe relayed the prophecy of the tenth plague, he did not say “at midnight”, but rather “approximately midnight” (כחצות ). This change needs explanation.

The Talmud in Berachot (4a) says that Moshe himself did know exactly when midnight is. Still, our rabbis tell us, למד לשונך לומר איני יודע שמא תתבדה ותאחז , Get into the habit of saying “I don’t know, for you might make up something inaccurate, and you will be caught as a liar..”  Rashi explains this behavior of Moshe, “If I say that the plague will begin precisely at midnight, the people who do not know exactly when midnight is might think that I was off by a couple of seconds, casting doubt on the accuracy of the prophecy . They might say that it was not an act of G-d. Better that I say that I do not know the exact split second when the plague will be, so that people will not make such a mistake.”

R’ Zusha was asked by his students: But Moshe did know  when exactly the plague would begin. Why, then, did he say to them. “I don’t know”, if he really did know?

R’ Zusha answered his students that Moshe said “I don’t know” with all honesty. He really did not know how to answer them in such a way that they would make no mistake about what he said. A person may know what to say, but if he does not know how to say it so that the person he’s speaking to will understand him, it may just be better to say, “I don’t know”.

I have seen this happen all the time. People who are approached for advice in all areas of life – spiritual, physical, mental health, finance, child rearing and more answer questions without being sure about what they are saying. They might sound smarter if they say first, “I don’t know, but I believe  –  If you are not sure, just say so. People will respect you more, not less. Not only that- when you are not sure that the person will be able to understand what you mean to say, you should also say, I don’t know.

I recently experienced this myself. A boy that I was coaching was in a life dilemma. He was pushing me for an answer to help him make his decision, but I answered him that this is not a “one liner”. In the meantime, I went to my rabbi and brought up the client’s question to the best of my understanding. The rabbi answered me, “I don’t know; I was never in the type of situations that this boy is dealing with, so I don’t know what to tell you.” We spoke about the problem for a while, and we came up with something that I could tell the boy. Then my Rabbi told me, “I know that this is the answer, but I don’t know how to say it to the person in such a way that he will understand what I am saying. And if he misunderstands me here, chances are that he will make the wrong decision, under the mistaken impression that this is what I told him to do.”

What makes someone smart is not only what he knows; it is also “knowing what he doesn’t know”. I find this to be one of the greatest tools for learning. When there is something that you don’t understand, instead of just thinking about it or rehashing it in an attempt to figure it out, it is worth clarifying what you know about the subject first, and pinpointing exactly what you don’t know. Then, sometimes the brain just does wonders, and things start making sense. The problem is when we don’t understand – say, 25% of the information – and exaggerate, saying that we don’t understand the whole thing. Then we shut off our “learning engine” in despair and start “spacing out”, losing focus. But if we clarify first what we know, and see exactly what we don’t understand, things sometimes just start making sense. Then eventually, one can get up to 100% comprehension.  This is a great learning tool. Try it. It works.


A LESSON FROM AN OLD EGYPTIAN WOMAN

 

 

The human mind’s ability to believe whatever it wants against all odds is fascinating.

The Midrash Hagadol writes the following story: Moshe prophesied in Egypt about the coming plague of the Firstborn. He mentioned that there will be a great outcry in all the land of Egypt, that there had never been anything like it until then and that there would never be anything like it again.(Shemot 11;6)  An old Egyptian women approached Moshe and said: “Moshe, you are a false prophet! I am an old woman, and I do not have a father, brother, sister, son or daughter. I do not have anyone to cry for. When you said that all the land of Egypt will cry and scream, you lied. I will not cry. I will not scream.” 

Moshe answered her – “I swear – you will be the first to scream.”

The common practice in Egypt at that time was to sculpt the likeness of a deceased  firstborn out of clay or dough to serve as a remembrance. This woman had had one son, a firstborn, who had died earlier. Every day, after she would eat and drink, this woman would stand and dance before the sculpture of her deceased son. (Egyptians revered their firstborn as gods.) She took her son’s sculpture upstairs to the roof, so that it would not be touched by the plague. She understood the words “for there was no house that did not have a dead person in it” (Shemot 12; 30) literally. She believed that Moshe’s prophecy did not include the firstborn that were outdoors in this plague. She thought that if she would bring her sculpture upstairs and place it on the roof, it would remain unharmed.

Sure enough, at the outset of the night of the plague, dogs came and dragged the bust of her firstborn around and then ate it up! She cried; she shrieked; she wailed. Her cries were heard all over the land of Egypt…(Midrash Hagadol). She was, indeed, the first to scream.

This is quite strange. What exactly was this woman’s claim? She did not have a live firstborn. How could she have the audacity to approach Moshe and call him a liar? And who cares what this woman had to say, anyway, especially after Moshe’s proven credibility due to the previous ten plagues that he had accurately predicted? Also, how did this woman’s cry over her sculpture outweigh all the cries of all the Egyptian mothers who cried for the loss of their real live firstborn sons on that night?

I believe the answer is that this woman was in denial. She did not want to believe that G-d of the Universe was against the Egyptians. When someone is in denial, what is perceived by them as even a small question which casts doubt on the truth is enough to make them feel that they have validated their position. This old Egyptian woman found something in the words of Moshe that enabled her to prove, or at least, so she believed, that he was a false prophet. Once she found something seemingly inaccurate on which to focus, she would claim that the whole prophecy was bogus. When she saw that she was wrong, she cried louder than anyone else. This cry, the cry of one who realizes that he was in denial all along, is greater than the cry of one who has lost his firstborn.

We find that Moshe was extremely cautious not to leave any doubt or ambiguity in the words he prophesied. Although Moshe heard from G-d that the plague of the firstborn would take place exactly at midnight, Moshe did not convey the message that way. Instead, Moshe said “approximately midnight”. This was because he feared that the Egyptians would deny his prophecy, saying that the plague was not midnight exactly. They would not be able to know precisely when midnight was, and they would say, instead, that Moshe was a phony.(Rashi 11;4)

There is no greater believer than the atheist. He believes – against all odds – that there is no  G-d. He has no proof – just a handful of questions to challenge the opposite belief. The fact that there are many more questions challenging his own belief does not bother him in the slightest. That is what he chooses to believe.

So many times, we are in a position of preferring not to believe something that is hard (or inconvenient) for us to believe. We do not accept truisms that add to our responsibility. This is a shortcut to nowhere. In the end, when we see so clearly that we cannot possibly deny that we have made a mistake, the cry will be earth-shattering, like the cry of the woman who clung to her belief against all odds. It is so much healthier to face reality and to live with it. After all, that is all that is left. Reality.


QUESTIONS OF THE COURAGEOUS

 

G-d  asked of Moshe the following: Please speak in the ears of the nation and they shall ask (borrow),a man from his friend and a woman from her friend, utensils of  silver and of gold(11;2). The Ibn Ezra (Shemot 12;35) writes that each person would ask for items according to his level of character(כפי מעלתו  ). He points out that we find, later, that the Nessiim (tribe leaders/representatives) asked to borrow special things that no one else was able to ask for. We see how they alone brought the precious stones and the perfume and the oil in the preparation of the Mishkan. They got these special items from the Egyptians by asking them for it. No one else asked to “borrow” these special things.

The question here is, what privilege did the Nessiim have that they alone were able to ask for these special items? Couldn’t anyone ask the Egyptians for such things? Did someone have to be on a high level of character even in order to ask to borrow these expensive commodities?

R’ Chaim Chechik, zt”l, answers this question with a beautiful thought. The Jewish slave needed to muster up an enormous amount of courage to approach the Egyptians and to ask to borrow expensive things. After 210 years of slavery and belittlement, humiliation and disgrace, the Egyptian Jewish slave, wearing his ripped and dirty blood- stained clothing was asked by G-d to simply walk up to the luxurious home of his masters and ask to borrow their most expensive household items. Many could not face what seemed to them to be an impossible assignment! Instead of asking to borrow the most expensive things in the house, they sufficed with asking for a simple pin or a salt shaker cover.

This low self image of the Egyptian Jew was exactly what Pharaoh had planned for: as evidenced in their difficulty to obey G-d’s command and ask the Egyptians for their valuable  possessions, many of  the Egyptian Jews had lost their self esteem. Even idol worship was rampant among the Jews in Egypt. However, there were certain things that the Egyptian Jew would never give up. A Jewish name, the Jewish language and way of speech, and the Jewish way of dress. This is all the Jew had left.

But there were some Jews who were able to stand proudly, fully aware of who they really were. They had no problem asking for the most expensive item in their master’s house. This required a great deal of courage from the Jew after the physical and emotional holocaust he had gone through. This is exactly what G-d wanted from before the Redemption. We find that in the original prophecy to Moshe by the burning bush, when G-d saw all the pain the Jews were enduring, he told Moshe, “And a woman will borrow from her neighbor and from the one who resides with her utensils of silver and gold and clothes, and they will put it on your sons and daughters (Shemot 4;22). One may ask, although G-d was fulfilling his promise to Avraham that the Jews would leave Egypt with great wealth, why did He want it to be acquired specifically in this way, by the Jew having to ask his master to borrow his household items? And –  who cares, in middle of such a holocaust, about such material things? Who is even thinking about it? But, no. G-d wanted the Jew to muster up courage and even ask to borrow the favorite dress of his Master’s wife. And, of course, we must take a closer look at these words.  And a woman will borrow from her neighbor… clothes and … put it on your sons and daughters. This is quite strange. How could the clothes of the Egyptian women be put on the Jewish children? Why not on the Jewish mothers?

I once heard a clever answer from a great Chassidic master: This is because the clothes of the Egyptian mothers were not modest, short skirts and short sleeves. This was not style of the clothes of the Jewish women. But on their little daughters, such clothing fit, as on the children the skirts were long , and on little girls, the sleeve length was just right, modest enough for the righteous Jews of Egypt! Modest dress is what got us out of Egypt. Being proud of our modest identity. Being able to muster up courage to ask for that favorite dress, knowing that after the Egyptian woman lent it to her neighbor, she would see little Jewish girls wearing it. What determined the level of a Jew’s greatness was the amount of courage and self pride he had as a Jew, despite all the Egyptian oppression. The Nessiim were able to stay proud enough to go right up to the richest and most powerful Egyptians and ask for the most expensive diamonds and rare stones ofEgypt. And, of course, they got them. And this is because when a Jew believes in who he is despite what he has gone through or was put through, he can get very far. This courage and self pride is probably what separated the Nessim from all the rest. Courage. Jewish courage.

If only we could look into ourselves and ask the questions of the courageous. We have to ask ourselves to pull out the diamonds from within. We have to ask ourselves to reveal the beautiful personality that we have inside. The middot. The happiness of being a Jew. We have to insist upon our own recognition of the pride we have in our nation’s past. The times have changed; the roles have changed.  The principal remains the same. All we have to do is ask.

About the author, Yosef

Leave a Comment