You really have to sympathize with Moshe. Here he agrees - reluctantly, at best - to assume leadership of the nation and to try to extricate Bnei Yisrael from slavery. But then, at every step, things only get worse for the Jews! Pharaoh hardens his heart - he won't even let them take three days off and he has them gather their own building materials while maintaining a back-breaking quota for bricks. No wonder the Jews reject Moshe's initial overtures.
So what is Hashem thinking? Why doesn't he give Moshe - and Bnei Yisrael - a break, and ease the tension, rather than turning it up a notch? Why does He have to pour oil on an already burning fire?
As always, there is method to G-d's movements. He has goals to accomplish, and they'll not come easily. He has to unite a disparate group of slaves into a cohesive, caring citizenry. He must restore their self-confidence, for they themselves do not grasp their own potential for greatness. He must disabuse them of the notion that they can rely on anyone but Him for their salvation, or that any land other than their own precious Israel can provide a homeland uniquely suited for their souls.
To accomplish all that, the situation has to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.
In many ways, alas, we here in Israel - especially olim from Western countries - can totally relate to what Moshe is feeling. After all, we, too, could have enjoyed the (seemingly) sublime status quo we enjoyed. We, too, could have opted to "wait for Moshiach" or used some other excuse to defer our destiny in Eretz Yisrael. But we came, knowing things may get rough.
Well, they got rough, and they may only get rougher. We have already paid a heavy price in many ways, but the dawn is still not in sight. And, almost paradoxically, every time we sue for peace, every time we give (or give in!), the situation only deteriorates further. Yet, that is Hashem's way of saying we haven't yet reached the point of redemption. We're almost there, but not quite. We still have to unite - which may require more suffering chas v'shalom - and we still have to know that there is no one but Him upon whom to rely, which may require yet more disappointments from the false hopes we harbor vis-a-vis our neighbors.
I suggest this explains the strange phrase which opens our Sedra: ?Vay'daber Elokim... Vayomer ani Hashem? - ?And Elokim spoke to Moshe and said 'I am Hashem.'" If G-d is specifically introduced as Elokim (stressing His attribute of strict justice), then why does He say, "I am Hashem," the name that conveys mercy and compassion?
That's exactly the point: All the strictness, all the "punishment" that G-d dispenses is really mercy in disguise, for it is necessary to prepare the true and only path to Redemption.
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Rabbi Weiss is the director of the Jewish Outreach Center in Ra?anana.
So what is Hashem thinking? Why doesn't he give Moshe - and Bnei Yisrael - a break, and ease the tension, rather than turning it up a notch? Why does He have to pour oil on an already burning fire?
As always, there is method to G-d's movements. He has goals to accomplish, and they'll not come easily. He has to unite a disparate group of slaves into a cohesive, caring citizenry. He must restore their self-confidence, for they themselves do not grasp their own potential for greatness. He must disabuse them of the notion that they can rely on anyone but Him for their salvation, or that any land other than their own precious Israel can provide a homeland uniquely suited for their souls.
To accomplish all that, the situation has to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.
In many ways, alas, we here in Israel - especially olim from Western countries - can totally relate to what Moshe is feeling. After all, we, too, could have enjoyed the (seemingly) sublime status quo we enjoyed. We, too, could have opted to "wait for Moshiach" or used some other excuse to defer our destiny in Eretz Yisrael. But we came, knowing things may get rough.
Well, they got rough, and they may only get rougher. We have already paid a heavy price in many ways, but the dawn is still not in sight. And, almost paradoxically, every time we sue for peace, every time we give (or give in!), the situation only deteriorates further. Yet, that is Hashem's way of saying we haven't yet reached the point of redemption. We're almost there, but not quite. We still have to unite - which may require more suffering chas v'shalom - and we still have to know that there is no one but Him upon whom to rely, which may require yet more disappointments from the false hopes we harbor vis-a-vis our neighbors.
I suggest this explains the strange phrase which opens our Sedra: ?Vay'daber Elokim... Vayomer ani Hashem? - ?And Elokim spoke to Moshe and said 'I am Hashem.'" If G-d is specifically introduced as Elokim (stressing His attribute of strict justice), then why does He say, "I am Hashem," the name that conveys mercy and compassion?
That's exactly the point: All the strictness, all the "punishment" that G-d dispenses is really mercy in disguise, for it is necessary to prepare the true and only path to Redemption.
--------------------------------------------------------
Rabbi Weiss is the director of the Jewish Outreach Center in Ra?anana.