Rav Moshe Feinstein on Speaking to the Rock
Parashat Chukat contains the famous and mysterious story of Mei Meriva, where Moshe is instructed by God to speak to a rock in the wilderness to produce water, but Moshe strikes the rock, instead. God severely punishes Moshe and Aharon for their failure in this regard, and decrees that they would die in the wilderness rather than proceed with Benei Yisrael to the Land of Israel.
Among the many questions raised concerning this incident is why God had instructed Moshe to speak to a rock. Why would He ordain such a peculiar display, that the nation’s prophet and leader speak to a rock and ask it to produce water?
Rav Moshe Feinstein (in the posthumously published Derash Moshe) suggested that the intended event of Moshe speaking to a rock was symbolic of an important educational message that God sought to convey. Sometimes, when we attempt to guide, instruct or teach those under our charge, we experience the feeling of “speaking to a rock,” that our words come upon deaf ears. God wanted to demonstrate that even when we “speak to a rock,” when it appears as though our words have no impact, it can eventually “produce water” and yield the desired result. And certainly, “speaking to the rock” is a far more preferable approach than “hitting the rock,” then trying to convey the message through harsh criticism, censure and condemnation.
If so, then the symbolism of God’s command to Moshe very closely relates to the general background of the Mei Meriva incident. When the people voiced their complaints about the lack of water, charging, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to bring us to this bad place,” Moshe felt frustrated. He responded by calling the people “morim” (“rebellious ones” – 20:10), and the Rambam, in his Shemoneh Perakim, famously points to Moshe’s outburst of anger and frustration as the essence of his wrongdoing in this episode. Moshe felt that after forty years of living a miraculous existence in the wilderness, there was nothing more that could be done to correct the people’s outlook. As the nation’s leader and teacher, he felt hopeless. If after all this time they still did not recognize God’s unlimited power and ability to provide, he thought, then they likely never will.
God therefore instructed Moshe to speak to the rock – alluding to his responsibility to speak to Benei Yisrael even if it seemed they would not listen. Rather than fall into despair, Moshe was to continue doing his job of patiently teaching, leading, guiding and educating, with full confidence in the people’s ability to understand. Even if the sudden water crisis rattled their senses and led them to outwardly question God’s ability to sustain them, Moshe could still walk them through this troubled period with support and sensitivity, until they gradually learned that temporary setbacks and moments of crisis do not signal the absence of Divine Providence.
According to Rav Moshe, the lesson of Mei Meriva relates to the slow, gradual process of education and growth. Even those who at present seem impervious to change could, with time and patience, gradually accept, internalize and implement the lessons they are taught.
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Moshe's Staff at Mei Meriva
Parashat Chukat contains one of the most famous and puzzling narratives in the Torah – the story of Mei Meriva, Moshe’s hitting the rock to produce water for the people. God reacted angrily to Moshe and Aharon’s handling of this situation, and announced that they would die in the wilderness, but the commentators struggle to identify the precise nature of their wrongdoing.
The most common understanding, as Rashi (20:12) explains, is that Moshe sinned by hitting the rock instead of speaking to the rock, as God had instructed (“and you shall speak to the rock in their presence, that it shall give forth its water” – 20:8). However, already the Ramban noted that God explicitly commanded Moshe to bring his staff to the rock, and this was, in fact, God’s first instruction to Moshe after the people demanded water (“Kach et ha-mateh” – 20:8). For what purpose would God have wanted Moshe to bring his staff, if not to hit the rock – precisely as he had done many years earlier, at the similar incident of Masa U-meriva (Shemot 17:1-7)? And, even if God did not want Moshe to hit the rock, could Moshe be blamed for assuming that he should, given the command to bring his staff?
Chizkuni (see also Rashbam) explains that this was, in fact, part of Moshe’s mistake. God meant that Moshe should bring Aharon’s staff, which, as we read in Parashat Korach (17:16-24), had miraculously “blossomed” after Korach’s revolt and was kept as proof of Moshe and Aharon’s divinely-assigned authority. Moshe, however, erred and assumed that God wanted him to take his own staff, and he thus reasoned that he should hit the rock.
But this explanation gives rise to the question of why Moshe should be punished so severely for the innocent mistake of thinking that God wanted him to take his own staff.
We might suggest that God had instructed Moshe to bring his staff with him precisely to demonstrate that he would not be using it. The Rambam (Shemoneh Perakim, chapter 4) famously claims that Moshe sinned by growing angry at Benei Yisrael, which led them to believe that God was angry at them, when in fact this was not the case. Perhaps, then, God wanted Moshe to have his staff in hand specifically to show the people that he would be speaking, and not hitting. The presence of the unused staff would indicate that this was not a time of anger, that God understood the people’s plight and did not wish to punish or criticize them, despite their disrespectful remarks to Moshe and Aharon (20:3-5). God specifically told Moshe, “Bring the staff – but don’t use it”; He wanted to show Benei Yisrael that this was not a time for anger. As the Rambam explained, Moshe sinned by displaying anger instead of patience. Rather than leave the staff to the side and speak to the rock calmly, he took the staff and hit the rock.
If so, then the story of Mei Meriva perhaps teaches that even if we have a “staff,” this doesn’t mean we should use it. In many situations, we have good reason to react angrily to things that happen around us or to us, and we are in a position to express our anger and frustration. But we must carefully determine in every such situation whether or not the “staff” should be used. More often than not, we are best advised to leave the staff to the side and respond with patience and tolerance, rather than allow our anger to control ourselves and the situation.
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Rav Hirsch: Appreciating Snakes in the Face of Disappointment
Moshe erected the nechash ha-nechoshet – the copper snake- e for the sake of curing those among Benei Yisrael who were stung by the snakes God had sent upon them to punish them for their complaints. After they acknowledged their guilt and implored Moshe to intervene on their behalf, God ordered Moshe to form a copper image of a snake, which would cure a bitten person who would look upon it. Yesterday we presented Rav Chayim of Volozhin's explanation of the spiritual process God wanted Benei Yisrael to undergo by contemplating the image of the snake. Today, we will briefly summarize the approach taken by Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary to the Torah (21:6-8).
Rav Hirsch notes that when the Torah describes God's dispatching of serpents against the people, it does not employ the standard form used for "send," which in Biblical Hebrew would be va-yishlach. Rather, the Torah writes, "va-yeshalach," in the pi'el verb form. Rav Hirsch contends that this form, as opposed to the standard form, means to "let go," or to "release." (One of the most compelling proofs is Bereishit 43:14, where this form is used in the context of freeing a prisoner.) God did not "send" snakes to bite Benei Yisrael. Rather, he merely allowed the snakes – for the first time in nearly forty years – to follow their natural course and assault the human beings trespassing on their desert turf. In Sefer Devarim (3:15), Moshe describes to the people how God had led them safely through a "terrible wilderness of poisonous snakes, scorpions and drought." The Almighty thus did not have to "send" snakes; He simply set them free and allowed them to act in accordance with their natural impulses.
It was this message, Rav Hirsch writes, that God wanted to convey through their concentrated gaze at the copper image of the snake. Someone who was bitten "had only to fix the image of a serpent firmly in his mind so that even when God's gracious power will again keep the serpents at a distance he will remember that the danger is still in existence, dangers that daily and hourly the special care of God lets us escape quite unconsciously." The image of the snake thus symbolized the permanent, ongoing reality of danger in which we all live at all times. We are constantly surrounded by "snakes," and it is only "the special care of God" which rescues us from these risks, often without our ever realizing that we had been threatened.
How does this message relate to this episode, to Benei Yisrael's complaints during travel? Why was this realization – of the ever-present dangers lurking all around us – a necessary stage in the process of repentance for their charges against Moshe and God?
Rav Hirsch explains, "Nothing is so thoroughly calculated to conciliate us in the everyday disappointments in life which so easily sting us to impatience – every big prize in the lottery which God has failed to let us win – and to mix them with the exalted feeling of God having saved us, and the joy of being granted a new life… " An awareness of the many "snakes" threatening us all around has the ability to help us overcome life's challenges and disappointments, and help make us feel fortunate and privileged, even during times of frustration and hardship. Benei Yisrael were disheartened by the need to retreat and circumvent the land of Edom in order to reach Eretz Yisrael. After feeling that the decades-long journey through the wilderness was on the brink of culmination, they met with bitter disappointment when Edom denied them passage through its territory, forcing them to embark on the long trek along Edom's eastern border. This disappointment led them to frustration and disgust, which expressed itself in a sense of resentment towards those who brought them to the wilderness in the first place – Moshe and God.
God therefore sought to inspire them with a feeling of appreciation and gratitude, which could help them overcome their frustration. By focusing on the fact that God continually protects and saves them from harm, that He guides their every step, even the more difficult ones, they would not be disheartened by even significant setbacks and detours.
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Netziv on Mei Meriva - Different Leadership Models for the Desert and Eretz Yisrael
We read in Parashat Chukat of the perplexing incident of Mei Meriva, where God instructed Moshe and Aharon to produce water from a rock in the wilderness in response to the people’s complaints about the lack of water. Moshe indeed hits the rock with his staff and produces water, but God responds angrily, announcing that Moshe and Aharon would die in the wilderness and not cross the Jordan River into Eretz Yisrael, because they disobeyed His command. Numerous attempts have been made to identify where precisely Moshe and Aharon erred in this incident, to find the distinction between what they were supposed to do and what they did.
The Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar (20:8), famously explains that God had instructed Moshe to prepare Benei Yisrael for their transition to “natural life” across the river. Throughout the forty years of travel in the wilderness, God sustained the people through supernatural means, whereas after the nation’s entry into Eretz Yisrael, their existence would follow the familiar laws of nature. The drying of the miraculous well in the wilderness provided the opportunity for Moshe to demonstrate the proper procedure to be followed in situations of drought in Eretz Yisrael. God wanted Moshe to assemble the people and speak to them, to conduct a special session of learning and prayer to become deserving of water. The command was not to speak to the rock, but rather to speak to the people alongside the rock. This was intended to prepare them for the public gatherings that would be required in situations of drought and other crises once the people cross into Eretz Yisrael. God would then respond to the nation’s prayer and efforts to repent by providing them with water. Moshe, however, assembled the people and hit the rock, just as he had done many years earlier, shortly after the Exodus (Shemot 17:6). He failed to prepare the people for their transition to a “normal” existence, and instead continued the miraculous existence that the nation had lived for the last forty years.
One of the great challenges of leadership is overseeing change and transition. Tradition requires consistency, doing the same thing regardless of changing circumstances, and leaders thus bear the responsibility of demonstrating the eternal relevance and application of our Torah tradition in an ever-changing world. At the same time, the precise manner of application of the Torah’s laws and values often depends upon circumstances. In Moshe’s case, the belief that God provides our material needs is eternal and unchanging, but the manifestation of this provision underwent a drastic change once Benei Yisrael crossed the Jordan River. Moshe was to prepare the people for this change by showing them how to ask for rain in Eretz Yisrael. If the people were not taught this lesson, they ran the risk of believing in God’s control over water in the wilderness, but not in the context of the natural agricultural cycle in Eretz Yisrael. The incident of Mei Meriva thus reminds us that although the Torah itself never changes, the means of preserving and promoting its laws and precepts must take into account changing realities. The educational approach taken at Chorev shortly after the Exodus was not the appropriate method as Benei Yisrael prepared to cross the Jordan after forty years of supernatural existence in the wilderness. Different circumstances require different techniques, and what works in one reality might not be appropriate in others.
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רק שבת אחת
"כִּי הוּא אֱלֹהֵינוּ וַאֲנַחְנוּ עַם מַרְעִיתוֹ וְצֹאן יָדוֹ הַיּוֹם אִם בְּקֹלוֹ תִשְׁמָעוּ" (תהילים צ"ה, ז)
שמות רבה (וילנא) פרשת בשלח פרשה כה סימן יב
אמר ר' לוי: אם משמרים ישראל את השבת כראוי, אפילו יום אחד, בן דוד בא. למה? שהיא שקולה כנגד כל המצות, וכן הוא אומר: "כי הוא אלהינו ואנחנו עם מרעיתו וצאן ידו היום אם בקולו תשמעו" (תהלים צ"ה, ז), אמר ר' יוחנן: אמר הקדוש ברוך הוא לישראל, אף על פי שנתתי קצבה לקץ שיבא, בין עושין תשובה בין שאין עושין בעונתה היא באה, אם עושין תשובה אפילו יום אחד אני מביא אותה שלא בעונתה, הוי "היום אם בקולו תשמעו", וכשם שמצינו שעל כל המצות בן דוד בא, על שמירת יום אחד של שבת בן דוד בא, לפי שהשבת שקולה כנגד כל המצות.
לשמיעת השיר 'רק שבת אחת' בביצועו של מרדכי בן דוד
שמות רבה - מדרש אגדה לספר שמות. המדרש מורכב משני חלקים (חלק א - על פרקים א'-י'; חלק ב - על פרקים י"ב-מ') השונים זה מזה באופיים והם נוצרו, ככל הנראה, בזמנים שונים. החלק הראשון מאוחר יותר לשני והוא כנראה קיבל את צורתו הסופית רק לאחר המאה ה-11 אם כי נשתמרו בו בוודאי גם מדרשים קדומים. בחלק הראשון מובאים פירושים כמעט לכל פסוק בעשרת הפרקים הראשונים של הספר. החלק השני הוא חלק מספרות 'מדרשי התנחומא' העוסק בפסוקים הראשונים של כל 'סדר מקראי', סדר הקריאה שהיה נהוג בארץ ישראל. (מתוך: ע' רייזל, מבוא למדרשים, מכללת הרצוג תשע"א)
Why Hizkiyahu Destroyed the Copper Snake
The “nechash ha-nechoshet,” the metal image of a snake, was made by Moshe as a miraculous antidote that cured those among Benei Yisrael who were bitten by the deadly snakes that assaulted them in the desert. There is a brief account in Sefer Melakhim II (18:4) of King Chizkiyahu’s bold decision (ccenturies later) to demolish the image, which had become a kind of idolatrous article. The ambivalence and debate that appear to have surrounded this measure might reflect the tension that exists between our loyalty to time-honored protocols, on the one hand, and on the other, the occasional need to modify or discard such protocols when they pose a real threat to religious observance.
Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Musar Ha-nevi’im, adds further insight into this incident, suggesting an explanation for why specifically Chizkiyahu, and not the previous righteous kings, undertook this measure of shattering the “nechash ha-nechoshet.” During Chizkiyahu’s reign, the Jewish nation faced an unprecedented threat of annihilation. The powerful Assyrian kingdom drove the ten northern tribes into exile during this period, and was poised to do the same to the Judean Kingdom. Indeed, the kingdom was saved only through God’s overt, miraculous intervention (Melakhim II 19:35-36). Chizkiyahu perceptively realized that during this period of grave crisis and existential threat, the people were more susceptible to the lures of superstition and imaginary magical powers. Moshe’s snake was especially prone to becoming a symbol of miraculous, supernatural salvation. Just as the image had saved Benei Yisrael centuries earlier from deadly venom, the people may have been tempted to attribute to it the power to rescue them from the deadly “snake” that threatened them now – the Assyrian Empire. Particularly during this time of desperation, the “nechash ha-nechoshet” could have likely become – and apparently did become – a source of false hopes, a kind of magical charm that the people turned to for help. Chizkiyahu, who initiated and led a nationwide movement ofteshuva, wanted to ensure that the grave security crisis would motivate the people to sincere introspection and positive change. And he feared that the “nechash ha-nechoshet” would supplant genuine efforts at spiritual growth and return to religious observance. Chizkiyahu therefore heroically abolished the “nechash ha-nechoshet,” with the approval of the Sages of the time, and directed the people’s attention away from superstition and hocus-pocus solutions, toward heartfelt, sincere repentance and prayer, turning to the Almighty for assistance rather than resorting to imaginary magical forces.
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Contemplating Snakes and Subjugating Hearts
Parashat Chukat records the incident of the nechash ha-nechoshet, the copper image of a snake that God ordered Moshe to construct to cure those among Benei Yisrael who were bitten by the snakes that ravaged the Israelite camp. God had punished the nation for their complaints against Him and Moshe by dispatching venomous snakes that killed many among the people. In response to Benei Yisrael's repentance and pleas for help, God instructed Moshe to fashion a copper snake which would offer miraculous healing to anyone bitten by a snake who would look upon the image (21:4-9).
A famous Mishna in Masekhet Rosh Hashana discusses the nature of this "miraculous cure." The Mishna asks, "Does the snake kill, or does the snake bring life?" It responds that "when Israel would look upward and subjugate their hearts to their Father in heaven, they would be cured; otherwise, they would wither." The Mishna emphasizes that the copper snake did not possess any intrinsic, therapeutic power; it was rather a means of facilitating Benei Yisrael's sense of subjugation to the Almighty, in the merit of which they were cured from the bite.
Rav Chayim of Volozhin, in his Nefesh Ha-chayim (3:12), explains more precisely how the copper snake served this role. Twice the Torah emphasizes that the bite-sufferer would look at the copper snake, and not at the heavens (21:8-9). How, then, did this system ensure their subjugation to God? Rav Chayim explained that the spiritual process referred to by the Mishna required the patient to contemplate the snake, to focus his attention on the snake's natural capacity to inflict fatal injury. What God wanted was for them to ponder the natural risk posed by snakes, but then "subjugate their hearts to their Father in heaven," to understand that God's power exceeds and can overturn that of the snake. They were to reinforce their awareness of the fact that the Almighty alone determines one's fate, and that no natural force is free from His control. Once their faith in God's unlimited power was firmly established, they were cured from the fatal snakebite.
If, indeed, it was this awareness that was necessary for Benei Yisrael to be spared from the effects of the snakes, we might conclude that it was the absence or perhaps erosion of this belief that brought on the dire situation in the first place. The Torah records that Benei Yisrael requested permission from the Edomite kingdom to pass through its territory to reach Eretz Yisrael, but the Edomites refused, forcing Benei Yisrael to retreat and circumvent Edom. The people became exasperated and complained, "Why have you brought us from Egypt to die in the wilderness – for there is no bread and no water, and we are fed up with this miserable food" (21:5). In light of the Nefesh Ha-chayim's remarks, we might explain that the people longed to once and for all conduct a life governed by natural laws. They no longer wanted to live off heavenly manna, depending solely on divine grace; instead, they wanted soil to cultivate and rainwater to use to produce bread. But the desert experience was necessary to impress upon Benei Yisrael the awareness of God's indispensable role in sustaining them. The memory of their miraculous survival in the wilderness was to maintain their sense of dependence on His favor and grace even when they begin to self-sufficiently develop a country by tapping the natural resources of the Land of Israel. When the people expressed their desire for a natural mode of life, this reflected a desire to free themselves from their dependence on God and bear full responsibility for their sustenance. The Almighty therefore found it necessary to remind them of His unlimited power over the elements. To this end, He had them stare at and contemplate the image of the snake, and then remind themselves that God's power exceeds and can even reverse the powers of venomous snakes.
Did Yiftach Believe in Human Sacrifice?
The story of Yiftach's vow is told in the eleventh chapter of Sefer Shoftim and is read as the haftara for Parashat Chukat. Before leaving to wage battle against the nation of Amon, Yiftach vows to God that should he return victorious, he will designate as an offering "the first that leaves the doors of my home to greet me" (Shoftim 11:31). Tragically, it is Yiftach's daughter who first greets him upon his triumphant return home from battle. (the commentators debate as to whether Yiftach actually brought his daughter as an offering, or subjected her to a life of celibacy.)
It is commonly understood that Yiftach made this vow under the assumption that an animal normally brought as a sacrifice – such as a sheep or goat – would be the first to greet him. This reading, however, leaves us wondering why he would make such an assumption. Furthermore, Yiftach specifies that he designates as an offering the first that "leaves the doors of my home," indicating that he refers to that which is normally in the home and comes out to greet him upon his return. It is hard to imagine that his family's sheep and cattle were kept inside the house; seemingly, he refers to human beings, presumably his family members.
Rav Yigal Ariel, in his Oz Va-anava (pp. 212-3), thus explains that Yiftach in fact had his family in mind when uttering this vow. In an attempt to exude piety and selfless devotion to God and to Am Yisrael, Yiftach proclaimed as he left for battle that he is prepared to sacrifice as an offering the first family member that greets him upon his return. This proclamation, however, according to Rav Ariel's understanding, was made disingenuously. Yiftach never had any intention of sacrificing a family member; he assumed that everybody would learn of his vow and thus ensure not to leave the home to greet him as he returned from battle. The vow was uttered purely as a tactical exhibition of piety, and not as a sincere but misplaced act of devotion. Tragically, Yiftach's daughter was unaware of her father's proclamation, and Yiftach felt unable or unwilling to seek the annulment of his vow.
Rav Moshe Hattin (http://vbm-torah.org/archive/shoftim65/09shoftim.htm) likewise suggested that Yiftach refers to a human being, rather than an animal, but develops a much different theory. The introductory verse to this section (Shoftim 11:6) tells of Benei Yisrael's abandonment of their spiritual heritage and embrace of numerous foreign modes of worship. And although they responded to the Amonite persecution by discarding their foreign deities (11:16), it is nevertheless likely that many values and mores of the surrounding nations were still part of their mindset and routine. Rav Hattin suggests that Yiftach actually intended all along to offer a human sacrifice – a ritual that was indeed common among the ancient pagans. He did not, however, intend that his "sacrifice" would be his daughter. He had assumed that a clan member, distant relative, servant or casual visitor would be the first to greet him upon his return from battle, and did not figure that it might be his daughter. Yiftach reacted with horror upon seeing his daughter because he had intended on designating as the human sacrifice some other individual, and not his own family member.
In any event, according to this theory, the story of Yiftach's vow demonstrates the extent to which pagan culture had become entrenched among Benei Yisrael – that even after their rejection of paganism, their leader still deemed it an act of piety and devotion to offer a human sacrifice.
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שירו לה' שיר חדש
כאשר אנו מתפללים בקבלת השבת את מזמור צ"ח, אין אחד מאיתנו שאינו מתפלל את המזמור הזה במלוא כוחו ומוחו, במלוא אמונתו, מילה במילה ופסוק בפסוק: "מזמור שירו לה' שיר חדש - כי נפלאות עשה!" (א) גם אם אין אנו שוכחים את ההיסטוריה של עמנו, גם אם אין לנו תשובות לכל מה שעבר ועובר על עמנו.
המזמור פונה אל כל אחד מאתנו, גם לסובלים וגם למלאי המכאובים בעם ה': שמע עמי, עשה זאת, עשו זאת כולכם: "שירו לה'" - גם אם קרה מה שקרה. זאת דורש מאיתנו הקב"ה וזה מה שה' עוזר לנו שנקיים: "שירו לה' שיר חדש!". גם אם הקודם נשבר, גם אם הקודם אינו נשכח, ואף פעם לא יישכח, אבל אתם עמי, עם ה': "שירו לה' שיר חדש! כי נפלאות עשה!".
העובדה שקיימים אנחנו, העובדה שאנו גוברים ומתגברים ואיננו נשמדים, והעובדה שלא נעלמנו: "כי נפלאות עשה" ריבונו של עולם שלנו, א-להי ישראל שהישועה שלו, לעמו זה, אחרת כבר מזמן היינו נשמדים. "הודיע ה' ישועתו" (ב) גם כאשר פגע בנו, גם כאשר הכאיב לנו, תמיד תמיד הודיע ה' ישועתו! גם כאשר הקב"ה, כביכול, מודה ומתוודה: "ופקדתי בשבט פשעם ובנגעים עוונם" (פ"ט, לג) הרי תיכף ומיד מוסיף הוא "לא אחלל בריתי!... אחת נשבעתי בקדשי... זרעו לעולם יהיה!" (שם, לה-לז) וזהו פסוקנו "הודיע ה' ישועתו".
נערך ע"י צוות אתר התנ"ך מתוך 'פרקי היום בתהלים' בהוצאת שילה ברכץ