Ladies, although this is a weekly parashah (Torah portion) class, please allow me to make some introductory comments.
First of all, I want to thank our hostess, a charter member of our ladies’ class, Mrs. Lorraine Michon. She is well known. I consider her a very unique and exemplary woman in the community, and she is on a short list of great ladies. She is always at the forefront of everything that has to do with Kedushah (holiness).
This is a bittersweet event, because we are commemorating the loss of our dear husband, Jimmy, who was a good friend of mine and was loved by all the members of our community. He was a very, very, very special, happy man. He had a great marriage, and I was able to witness that when I lived here on East 4th. We were neighbors, and our families got very close.
Over the years, Jimmy himself advanced religiously. I think Lorraine deserves credit for pushing him. He was in synagogue every day and learned every day. He did all the right things. Although he had a lot of ailments, he always pulled through. But at the end, the angels want the good people too. We can’t always keep them for ourselves. They say he is in a better place. I do believe it, but that doesn’t console us, because we miss him. So he is good, but we feel bad. It is a testament to him and his wife.
Today we are here to memorialize Jimmy Gamliel Ben Bahia, and we are going to do that in two ways. The first way is to study Torah, which is the best way to make a tikkun (rectification) for anybody’s soul.
I guess it has come time for me to reveal the secret. I don’t talk about it too much, but in my opinion it is the crown jewel of our congregation, and maybe even of our community. A few years back, if you remember, there was a fire on Rosh Chodesh Nisan, and there was a great tragedy: seven sacrifices. You don’t hear that too often. I went to a big Rabbi and said, “What is this? What is this?” He told me, “This is a big tikkun. This is a big thing in Shamayim (Heaven), but you don’t have to worry. It won’t happen again.” I said, “Okay.” Then, a few years later, it happened again, just a few houses from me on East 14th. I happened to be away, but when I got back, I saw the damage, the devastation, the churban (destruction). I went back to the Rabbi and said, “It’s not going to happen again? It happened twice.” Then I came to the conclusion that both fires happened at night, when there was no Torah being studied in the community.
Torah is studied in our community in every synagogue from 5 a.m. until midnight, without a doubt. But there is a certain window when no Torah is being studied: from midnight until the morning. So I had an idea for the protection of the community, and for no other reason: to bring 18 Rabbis and convince them to stay up all night every night they Shavuot, and to stay up all night to read, learn, and make tikkun. They sit on the floor and cry for the Bet HaMikdash (Holy Temple). They do all these different services that most people don’t do. Then they study Kabbalah for a few hours, and they do it in our synagogue.
Initially, I told them that of course I wanted to pay them. They didn’t have to worry about that. Obviously, you can’t pay somebody 25 bucks to stay up all night; you have to pay them something that makes it worth their while. I promise you, none of these Rabbis in the Kollel Chatzot (midnight kollel) are wealthy. They are the poorest Rabbis you can find. Who is going to stay up all night if he doesn’t need the money or have anything else to do? Nonetheless, they are tzaddikim (righteous people).
I initially told them, “We just want you to do this for 10 months, and in the summer you can take off.” Then the Rosh Kollel told me, “You don’t need protection in the summer. You need more protection in the summer. Everybody goes away. You need protection.” I said, “I just wanted to give you guys a break. I feel bad keeping you up every single night. It’s a big sacrifice, because these married people have children, so they live on a different schedule. When everybody is going to sleep at night with their families, they are getting up and leaving their wives and children alone every night. So it’s a big, big sacrifice.”
We have been doing it for two or three years, I think. They learn every night. Even if you come tonight at two o’clock in the morning, you would think it was two o’clock in the afternoon. There are 18 Rabbis learning Torah very loudly.
When one of my children was in labor, we were in Deal. My daughter Sarah and I drove in from Deal in the middle of the night. It was summer, and I dropped Sanju at the hospital. Then I told her, “I’m going.” “Where are you going?” “It’s 2 o’clock in the morning. I want to spy on them. I want to check on them.” They didn’t know I was coming. In the middle of July or August, I walked in. There were the Rabbis, at 2 o’clock in the morning. They were all there, 18 Rabbis learning like nobody else’s business.
On Fridays we make a special tikkun called Tikkun HaShas (rectification of the Talmud). There’s a Kabbalist associated with it. We make a tikkun for all the donors. We’ll include today’s sponsors and put Lorraine on the list as well, along with everyone who sponsors and helps us pay for the proceeds. We pray for them. It’s a special tikkun, and I’m usually there every Friday morning making tikkun with them. I can’t stay up every night and have a day job.
We have specific rules. The Rabbis must go to the mikveh (ritual bath) before they come to learn every night. We have a mikveh across the street near the yeshiva, but in the new shul, that was one of the reasons we built the mikveh: so they can go downstairs and use it. They have to learn with purity. We also have other rules they have to follow. One is that they must have a day job, meaning a kollel or something. We don’t want Rabbis to stay up all night and sleep the whole day. What’s the difference? Then you made layla yom, yom layla (night day, day night); there’s no ma'o edu hakemin betaken etam.
We have five or six guidelines they have to follow. They go home at 5 or 6 o’clock in the morning, sleep a few hours, and then go. Nonetheless, it’s a great project. It’s the only one of its kind in Brooklyn, even among the Ashkenazim. They have Kollel Chatzot in, I think, Williamsburg or maybe Monroe. “Yeah, Monroe.” “Yeah.” But they don’t have one in Brooklyn. So, yes, there’s Meron, for sure. But we have one in Brooklyn, and we’re the only one. I don’t want to be the only one. I wish everybody would do it. I don’t want an exclusive. I don’t have a monopoly on Torah. Let everybody do it and copy us, and I’ll be the happiest guy.
Meanwhile, there’s no overhead on Kollel Chatzot. I’m actually the president, treasurer, and secretary. I pay the Rabbis every two weeks on Sunday, so this Sunday is payday. It’s very simple and not dramatic at all. I have the checkbook, write them checks, put them in an envelope, and give it to the Rosh Kollel. We don’t even have to pay for stamps. I use the ink in my pen, and I pay for the ink. That’s my donation. Whatever money comes in goes straight to the Rabbis. We don’t pay rent to the shul. The shul is the shul.
Once in a while, we realized there was an added benefit to Kollel Chatzot. I’ll tell you what it was. You can’t imagine how many times in the middle of the night people call me and say, “You know, Rabbi, my daughter is expecting or she’s giving birth. Could you let the Rabbis make a tefillah (prayer)?” That means they’re available. Who is available in the middle of the night to make a tefillah? Now we have Rabbis involved at night whenever there’s an issue. They text me, “Rabbi, this happened. Could you make…” So I call the Rosh Kollel: “Chacham, here’s what’s the matter. Put this guy on the list. Make a prayer for him.” At least it gives us the advantage of having Rabbis who can benefit us around the clock.
It’s called Kollel Chatzot. We’re very proud of it and of the Rabbis. These are very holy men, trust me when I tell you. They’re very humble and simple. We don’t find simple people anymore; everybody has become complicated. They just come and learn. They’re very limited materially. What should I tell you? They have no physical aspirations. Put it that way. Their aspirations are just to learn. To be honest, these are grown men, but they’re so humble that from time to time they send me letters, love letters: “Dear Rabbi, thank you so much for allowing us to learn all night. It’s such a zechut (merit) to be part of…” They don’t have to send me a thank-you letter, but they’re a very different kind of people.
In the new building, I want to have 36 Rabbis, 100 Rabbis. Go find 100 people who want to stay up all night. But I’m glad we found the 18.
Anyway, some of the big Rabbis of Israel came to visit. Eighteen is a good number. It’s a great number, and that’s why we picked it. Big Rabbis came from Israel, and we brought them to the kollel to give shiurim (lessons). Rabbi Atiyah came, and I asked one of the Rabbis, “Would the Rabbi like to give a shiur to the kollel?” He said, “Of course.” He asked, “What time?” He thought we had a day kollel. I said, “Is three in the morning okay?” “Three in the morning? What are you talking about?” Then he came and gave his shiur, and other Rabbis came as well.
I want to thank Lorraine for opening her house. It’s a great zechut for Jimmy, no doubt about that. Any tzedakah (charity) is great for the niftar (deceased person). One of the big zechuyot (merits) for the niftar is tzedakah, but tzedakah for Kollel Chatzot is special. And listen to how God does these things: today is the yahrzeit (anniversary of death) of Baba Sali, the great mekubal (Kabbalist). To have this gathering on a day when all the tzaddikim are coming together—we couldn’t have orchestrated it better. I’m glad we were able to publicize it for the first time outside the shul, right here in this house. Lorraine should be very proud. A lot of her friends came from far and beyond, not only the regulars in the class, but people from Deal and other places, to show her respect. It is well deserved.
I also want to thank everybody who sponsored these beautiful gifts and all the different snacks inside. It’s very nice. It means a lot to the Rabbis that people are concerned about them and want to help them. That’s the most important thing to us.
So, Chazak Baruch and Yedid to Rabbi Yedid. As a side point, if anybody ever needs a Yeshua (salvation), you see me every week. Give me a name and a prayer or something, and we’ll give it to the Rabbis. It’s our pleasure. We have to take care of the people close to us. Those who come to the shiurim are the closest to us, and therefore we’d like to reciprocate by helping you out.
All right, that’s the introduction. Now we’ll say some words on Parashat Bo. In the parashah, you see this concept written in a few parashiyot: Parashat Vayechi, Shemot, Va’era, and Bo. This is a concept that repeats itself over and over again, and I want you to learn it. It’s based on the Gemara. The Gemara says that we must show respect for Malchut (kingship), for a king, even if the king is not righteous and is not a tzaddik (righteous person) by any stretch of the imagination. The Torah says that anybody who comes in contact with a king must speak to him and treat him with the greatest respect.
I want to show you two sources where we learn this, because then I’m going to ask you a big question on this week’s parashah. Back in Parashat Vayechi, if you remember, Yosef was the king. Then he went to visit his father, Yaakov, who was sick. The pasuk (verse) says that when he came in to visit him, Yaakov strengthened himself and sat on the bed. Then Rashi says that he said, “Even though I’m your father and you’re my son, you’re a king, and therefore I have to show you respect.”
One of the sources is that even though he was Yaakov Avinu, he pushed himself to sit up, not out of favor for his son, but because his title was king. Then Rashi brings two more examples. I’d like to bring you the examples and show you how we learn this from Rashi.
Another proof is the story of Eliyahu. First, throughout the story, when Moshe goes to speak with him, he speaks with the utmost respect and is very careful not to say anything offensive. It’s a tightrope, because he’s actually telling him things like, “You can have lice all over your body tomorrow morning.” But he has to tell him with derech eretz, proper conduct. You know, he can’t—I don’t know how you do that, but that was his challenge.
Look, for example, in Parashat Shemot. I’ll give you an example in pasuk gimmel (verse three), in perek chet (chapter eight). The pasuk says, “Vayomeru Elohei ha-Ivrim, nikra aleinu, nelecha na derech sheloshet yamim ba-midbar (The God of the Hebrews has met with us; let us go a three-day journey into the wilderness).” We want to go for three days. That’s all he told Paro. Initially he only wanted to go for three days. It was a seminar. They wanted to bring sacrifices, because if Paro didn’t let them go, they would be plagued. Now Rashi says he didn’t mean, “We will be plagued.” He meant, “You will be plagued,” but he didn’t want to tell him that directly. So from here you see that Moshe had kavod, respect, for the melech (king) Paro. Paro understood what he meant, but Moshe didn’t want to tell him straight out, “If you don’t let us go, you’re going to be destroyed.” So he tells him, “We’re going to be destroyed.” He winks at him: “You know what we mean.” Everybody understands, but that is already kavod malchut (respect for kingship).
That’s the second proof. So we have the first proof from Yaakov, and the second from Moshe. Then he brings a third proof: “V’chen Eliyahu.” What does it say about Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet)? “Vayeshanes motnav (He girded his loins).” When he lived in the time of King Achav, it says that Eliyahu ran when Achav saw him walking alone. Eliyahu felt that it was not respectful to the king to walk alone. The king needed an entourage, so Eliyahu ran in front of him to give him one.
I once saw a beautiful explanation. Why does Rashi have to prove himself from three different places? Bring me proof from Yaakov to Yosef, then from Moshe to Paro, and then from Eliyahu to Achav. Why does he need three proofs? Bring me proof from Yaakov; I’m happy with one. Each case teaches me a bigger chidush. The first chidush is what? Even though Yaakov was his father, we normally have a din (law) of kibbud av va’em (honoring one’s parents). You might have thought that in the case of kibbud av va’em, the child has to respect the father, and not the other way around. Therefore, the pasuk says no: even in a father-son relationship, if the son is a king, there is kavod malchut.
The second chidush is that even if the king is a rasha merusha (utterly wicked), like Pharaoh, it doesn’t matter. We don’t measure the king’s righteousness. Kavod malchut is deserved because of the malchut, not because of his credentials or his merit, whether he is righteous or not.
But wait. Maybe that’s only if he’s a rasha goy (non-Jew), from whom you can’t really expect too much. But Achav was a Jew who was a rasha. A Jewish rasha is worse because the Jew was held to a higher expectation. Paro is a man of Zara. Who thought any better of Paro? Anybody think any better of Paro? But Achav was a Jew, so Achav acting that way could be much worse. Therefore, maybe I would have said, “A goy, yes, but a Jew who acts like a goy, maybe not.” That’s why he brings the proof from Eliyahu: even so, he showed him respect. You see how perfect Rashi is. He gives you all three madregot (levels). Rashi is not just bringing you three examples. He is bringing them in order, and each one is a bigger chidush than the next. Yes? Okay, good.
Once we have this proven, we can go to our parashah. To me, this is such a beautiful part of the parashah, and it is neglected. So it’s your lucky day, because we’re going to hear the part of the parashah that most people don’t comment on.
What happens here? The pasuk says—there were the plagues, the locusts and grasshoppers. We’ll talk about that another time. There was the darkness, the blackout. Another time. Now Paro is still stubborn. After all that, after nine plagues, he doesn’t want to let them go. So the pasuk says that Moshe Rabbeinu goes into the palace for one last time.
Now listen to this: “Vayechazek Hashem et lev Paro (Hashem hardened his heart).” “V’lo avah leshalcham (He was unwilling to send them).” Paro turns to Moshe and says, “Lech me’alai.” Wow, this is strong language. “Lech me’alai” means, “Get out of here.” “Lech me’alai.” I don’t blame him. Every time Moshe Rabbeinu comes in, it’s another one on us. So he’s telling him, “Enough. Lech me’alai.” But this is what he tells him: “Hishamer lecha (I’m warning you).” “Al tosif re'ot panai (Do not see my face again).” I’m warning you: I don’t want you to see me. I don’t want to see your face. I don’t want you to see my face anymore. “Al tosif re'ot panai.” Now he gives one warning: “Ki beyom re'otcha panai tamut (I’ll kill you).” Paro is threatening him: on the day that you see me, if you dare to disrespect my wishes, on the day you see me, “tamut”—I’ll kill you. Exactly.
What does Moshe Rabbeinu say? “I don’t want to see your ugly face anymore.” “I want to see your face”—you’re doing me a favor. Who’s doing me a favor? I don’t want to see your face. The first nine times, do you think I was dreaming about you? I don’t want to come back anyway. So he tells him, “As you say, I will not see you anymore.”
Now look at this. Before he leaves, he has to tell him one more message, because once he leaves, he can’t come back. This is going to be the last conversation, probably, that we see in the Torah between Moshe and Paro. After that, he says, “As you wish, I won’t talk to you anymore.” But “Vayomer Hashem el Moshe”—he gets a prophecy, and he tells them, “Go tell Paro.”
Hashem says—meaning, “Oh, that’s how you learned. I know that’s how you learned. You learned it simply means around chatzot (midnight). But all the Rabbis ask, ‘What do you mean, around chatzot? It wasn’t around; it was at chatzot.’” Rashi explains it according to the Gemara, but I want to explain it to you differently. By the way, this is what Orach HaMakadosh explains: the word “ka,” when you put it in front of a word, can work in either of two ways. It can mean “around,” like “ka,” or “ka” is called Kaf HaDimyon, which means like this night, like another night. It compares it to something else. “Ka chatzot halaylah”—like another chatzot. But, oh, you remember the other chatzot? So this night is going to be “ka chatzot,” like the other one. What’s the other one?
There was a famous chatzot laylah (midnight) well known in Jewish history. It happened on the 15th of Nisan, exactly the same night, many years before, with Avraham Avinu. Avraham Avinu alav hashalom (peace be upon him). It was World War one. There were four kings fighting five kings, and Abraham threw himself into the water to save Lot. On that night, at midnight on the 15th of Nisan, he went into the war and was able to bring down the five kings, even though he was alone—or some say he had a small army of 318 soldiers. With a small group, he was able to bring down five superpowers.
What does that show you? It shows you that the Jewish people don’t have to be militarized. They don’t have to have a formal army. As we say on Hanukkah (the Festival of Dedication), sometimes a small group can overpower a big group, and the weak can overpower the strong. So Moshe Rabbeinu—and this was well known; everybody knew it because those were five kings, and the whole world heard about it—tells Paro, “Like that chatzot when Abraham brought down the five kings, guess what? It’s going to happen again. Our small nation, without an army, is going to bring down the whole Egyptian empire.”
So he was telling him not “around chatzot,” but “like chatzot.” Like the well-known chatzot, and Paro knew the history. It was in all the books of records. He was saying, “Deja vu. It’s going to happen again, but this time not to the five kings; it’s going to happen to you.” Then he tells him that at midnight there will be Makat Bechorot (plague of the firstborn). As we know, all the firstborns in Egypt are going to come down, and God is going to come down on Mitzrayim (Egypt). He is going to identify the firstborn, and then the angel is going to come and kill them all.
I spoke very carefully just now. I know what you’re thinking. Look at the Orach HaMakadosh. I explained it carefully: Hashem identified them, and the angel actually killed them. I know it says that all the other makot (plagues) were done while God was in Heaven, but for this makah (plague) He came down, because He is the only one who knows who the first seed is. So the angels did the makah, but God came down to identify which one, because Borei Olam (Creator of the world) doesn’t kill. Killing only happens through a malach (angel), because God only does good; He doesn’t do bad. Side point. Anyway, the pasuk says, “Watch what happens.” Then there will be screaming in every Egyptian house, because there won’t be a house that is not a met (dead person).
Then he makes a prediction: “Moshe, all of the servants—all of your servants—are going to come to me, and they’re going to bow to me.” Look at this: to Moshe. And what are they going to say? “Tze ata vechol ha'am asher beraglecha (Go out, you and all the people following you).” The servants are going to say, “Leave.” “Tze ata,” and all your people. “Asher beraglecha”—“beraglecha” means that follow you, not your legs. “Tze ata vechol asher beraglecha,” all those that follow you, all your followers. That’s a different wording.
Then what does Moshe Rabbeinu say? “Only if you tell me to leave”—or, not you; when your servants come and bow to me and tell me to leave, you should know one thing. And then the pasuk says…
Now Moshe Rabbeinu walks away. He was angry. We’ll get to the anger in a minute. But you see something unbelievable here: even here, Moshe Rabbeinu has kavod malchut. Why? Because he said, “Your servants are going to come and bow to me and say, ‘Leave.’” What he really meant was, “You’re going to come.” Rashi says here, “We are doing called abadaka again.” You see why? Because we know Paro himself came down, and Paro came.
Now we get to the main event. This is very hard to understand. I don’t have a problem with Moshe Rabbeinu leaving. Exactly, he’s angry. Tzaddikim get angry. We know anger is clearly one of the worst middot, character traits. What happened to Moshe Rabbeinu? Why did he get angry? What happened—did somebody step on his foot? What happened to Moshe Rabbeinu all of a sudden?
Rashi deals with this, ladies. Everything is in Rashi. Rashi says, “I don’t want to see anymore.” So Moshe Rabbeinu—ladies, this needs to be understood. It sounds as if Moshe was offended, as if Paro said, “I don’t want to see you anymore.” We imagine that Moshe stormed out, slammed the door on Paro, and got angry. “Who does he think he is? He tells me to do what I do?” I cannot accept that interpretation, because Moshe is the most humble of all men.
Again, as I told you, it’s a blessing not to see Paro’s face. Why is Moshe angry? Should Moshe Rabbeinu be angry? First of all, it’s a question whether you want to look at the face of a rasha. Now he has no choice. Paro is saying, “Al tosif.” Moshe Rabbeinu: “Al tosif.” Beautiful. I’m very happy. “Al tosif.” I wish you had told me this a year ago, but now you’ve told me. You should have told him, “You’re a year too late.” But it sounds as if Moshe Rabbeinu is getting angry.
I’d like to present what I saw in some of the sefarim (religious books). There’s a sefer—I made a copy before I came. It quotes a sefer by a Rabbi and explains it like this. He says, “Beautiful. It’s a big chidush. I’m not going to say this is a chidush that I accept, but I must tell it to you.” He understands the pasuk as referring—not to Moshe. So you read the pasuk like this: who was angry? Paro. The pasuk doesn’t say he was angry; it just says—And why was Paro angry? Because he was frustrated already. Also, he was a bechor, you have to remember. So now here he comes again; now another one is coming after me. That’s a nice explanation. It’s not the pshat, plain meaning. I cannot tell you that’s the pshat. I have a hard time selling it, but that’s what he says.
But Ktav VehaKabbalah has a beautiful explanation worth your consideration. He says that since Moshe Rabbeinu always has to show kavod malchut, as long as he is dealing with Paro he has to show kavod malchut. Part of kavod malchut is this: when you leave a Bet Knesset (synagogue), you don’t turn your back to the Bet Knesset, to the heichal, the ark. You walk backward. Have you ever gone to the Kotel HaMa'aravi (Western Wall)? You see people walking backward when they leave the Kotel HaMa'aravi, like when they make Oseh Shalom. Why? Because the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, is there. It would be disrespectful to turn your back on the Shekhinah, so you step backward.
Every time Moshe Rabbeinu left Paro’s palace, the pasuk says, “Vayifen vayetze (He turned and went out).” “Vayifen” means lashon panim. You always take “vayifen” to mean that he turned. No, I’m learning it differently: “Vayifen,” lashon panim. His face was always facing Paro. “Vayifen”: he faced Paro, “vayetze.” Why? Because of kavod malchut. He didn’t want to show him his back. How do you say “back” in Hebrew? Achor, the back. Achor. Beautiful, very good.
Ktav VehaKabbalah says that this time, once Paro told him, “I don’t want to see your face anymore,” Moshe could no longer walk away like that. So it says, “Bachori af.” “Bachori af” means he turned—his face was facing the other way. Normally his face was facing the other way. That’s a beautiful explanation from Ktav VehaKabbalah, I must say. That’s a winner.
However, we have to be aware of what the Gemara says, and hold on to your seats. The Gemara is in Zevachim. I think I made a copy of the Gemara as well. This is the way you’re supposed to study the parashah: analyze the pesukim, because you’ll never really understand what happened unless you give yourself time to develop the stories. This is a major part of the story: Paro kicks him out—“I don’t want to see your face again”—and then Moshe Rabbeinu is angry. At least, it sounds like that.
Now we figured it out. He wasn’t angry; Paro was angry. Oh, he wasn’t angry at all; he just turned his back. But, ladies, we’re stuck, because we cannot deny what the Gemara says. The Gemara says in Zevachim, “Vayetzei me'im Paro bachori af, melamed she'sitaro vayetzei (He left Pharaoh in anger; this teaches that he slapped him and left).”
Do you know what a s'tirat lechi is? A s'tirat lechi. A s'tirat lechi. Oh, very good. We learned that when we were in Magen David. We had a big grandma in Hamdavit B'to. He used to warn us, and he would turn to us: “S'tirat lechi.” We didn’t know what it was. We thought it was a gift, give it to him now, until we got it. Once we got it, we knew it was something you didn’t want. S'tirat lechi. Lechi is a cheek. S'tirat lechi is a slap. So the Gemara says that, unbelievably, on the way out Moshe Rabbeinu was bachori af, and he turned to Paro. That’s what the Gemara says.
Why, why, why, why? Yes? This is an incredible Gemara. First of all, what happened to kavod malchut? That’s the question they all asked. “Where was the kavod malchut?” I just gave you all the knowledge. You cannot tell me it’s kavod malchut to smack the guy across the face. He’s the king of Egypt. And furthermore, what is he hitting him over now?
And I’d say even more: if you’re going to learn that Moshe Rabbeinu got angry, which is the simple explanation—even though I didn’t look at the article, but the article isn’t stronger, and he left Paro’s presence in a burning anger—the question is, Moshe was angry, obviously. We have a rule that says you’re not able to receive prophecy when you’re angry. You can receive prophecy only when you’re calm. Moshe Rabbeinu had just received prophecy from God.
We have to finesse this a little. We have to say that the pasuk is very precise. When did he get angry? As he was leaving. Then he turned on the anger. That means he had to control his anger until he finished the prophecy. So it seems Moshe Rabbeinu had been working on himself. He was angry from the time Paro said, “I don’t want to see your face anymore.” We’ll see why he was angry. But he had to control himself. That was on the tzaddikim. The tzaddikim control their middot. Anger doesn’t control Moshe; Moshe controls the anger.
So he controls it. Now he finishes the prophecy and walks out. He says, “Wait, I forgot something.” Comes back—who has what on the page? And one for good luck. One for good luck. Finish. That’s it. Of course he deserves it. I don’t know how he deserves it. That’s the Gemara.
By the way, ladies, it comes out in America that they say “full circle.” “Full circle” means the circle is completed. What was the first thing Moshe Rabbeinu did when he came down to Egypt, and the last thing he did in Egypt? He started—that’s the beginning of the story, and that’s the end of the story. That was his tikkun. Moshe Rabbeinu’s job is—he did it well. That’s the beginning of the book and the end of the book.
But now we need to understand what is going on here. The way we explained it, based on the interpretation of the great Gaon, Shimon Schwab, in the sefer Maayan Beit HaShoeivah, he said something beautiful. Paro is the king of Egypt. He cannot deny that. As long as he is the king of Egypt, Moshe Rabbeinu says, “Listen, you have to deal with him. You have to deal with respect. He’s the king. Listen, he’s rasha, he’s merusha, he doesn’t believe in God. You have to deal with the guy with white gloves.”
Do you know how difficult this was for Moshe Rabbeinu? Every time he goes in to Paro, Paro says, “Lo yadati et Hashem (I did not know Hashem).” If somebody said that to us, we would shake. Could you imagine Moshe Rabbeinu, the one you’re talking to? Moshe Rabbeinu is the closest one to Hashem. And Moshe Rabbeinu is not a coward. He is very powerful. If he needs to fight, he is able to fight angels. Moshe Rabbeinu is very powerful.
When Korach came along and spoke a little disrespectfully, what does Moshe Rabbeinu tell God? “Open the ground.” He should die, not a normal death, but a miserable death, like never happened before. When Moshe Rabbeinu hears somebody talking against God, he knows how to fix it very quickly. He knows how to fix it very quickly.
When the Jewish people were worshiping the Egel (Golden Calf), what did Moshe do? He took the Luchot (Tablets). When Moshe Rabbeinu sees something against God, he doesn’t say, “It’s okay, leave them alone.” The kana'i (zealot), exactly.
You know how difficult it was every time he went to Paro? Another word against God, and Paro knew it. Paro did it to provoke Moshe Rabbeinu. “I don’t know Hashem. Who is this Hashem who listens to his voice? I’ll let them go. Now tell your God I’m not letting them go.” What do you have to send the adults for? What do you have to send the children for? He was playing with Moshe Rabbeinu.
But Moshe Rabbeinu had a rule from God: kavod malchut. You have to deal with the guy. You know what kind of self-restraint Moshe Rabbeinu had? He restrained and controlled himself because he had to follow the halachah. If he didn’t have kavod malchut on his head, he would have taken Paro and strangled him a long time ago. He wasn’t scared of Paro. Moshe wasn’t scared of anybody. Moshe was scared of God. Chovot HaLevavot says that if you’re scared of God, you don’t have to be scared of anybody else. If you’re not scared of God, then you’re afraid of everybody. So Moshe Rabbeinu was afraid of God. He didn’t have to be afraid of anybody else.
By the way, in Paro’s palace there used to be lions in front of the palace. Who is going to go in front of lions? Not in a cage—in front of the palace. Why? So nobody could enter the palace. Moshe Rabbeinu comes in: “Baruch Haba.” They bow to him. But how did you get in there? Didn’t you see the lions? That’s what the lions do. You think I’m scared of a lion? He’s afraid of God. I’m not afraid of lions. Lions can do nothing. They cannot touch me. So it wasn’t that he wasn’t able; he was limited because God said kavod malchut.
But all of a sudden, at a certain point, Paro says, “It’s over. I have nothing to do with you anymore. I don’t want to see you anymore. The day that I see you, you will die. We have no connection anymore. Leave the palace.” At that point Moshe Rabbeinu understood that there was no more kavod malchut. This was God’s way of telling Moshe that Paro didn’t want to see him anymore. I only have to respect him when we have a dialogue, when we have something. Once he tells him, “Go away,” Moshe Rabbeinu says, “I’ve been waiting for a year for this moment.” The first second he got a chance to punish—off his chutzpah, the second he says, “That’s it, you don’t want to see me anymore? Perfect. Now this is for all the…” And he smacks him across the face. He wasn’t angry for himself; it wasn’t personal. He was angry because of Hashem. He was taking action: “I would have smacked you a year ago, but my hands were tied. I wasn’t able to touch you. Now that you tell me it’s over, you want nothing to do with me anymore? Beautiful.”
On the way out, there is no more king anymore. Moshe understood that once Paro pushed him out, Paro’s malchut was going to start to do it. This is what he says to him. I’ll read you some of Rabbi Schwab’s words, just so you hear the lashon, wording. I hope I’m not taking it out of context. He says, “And it is proven that Moshe Rabbeinu was not angry because of his own knowledge of Hashem. Anger was not from himself. But he was angry because of what Paro and HaKadosh Baruch Hu said. And because of what Hashem said to the Rabbis. And until the moment he knew that he would not add more tears to his face. Until that moment, he stopped his anger. He had to control his anger. And he had to fulfill the will of Hashem. Fulfill the will of God. Treat him nicely.”
However, even a second before he left, he tells him, “Your servants are going to come and bow to me.” Even at that moment, that’s his last conversation. As long as you’re talking to Paro, you have to speak respectfully. But once you finish your last conversation—and, by the way, his last words to Paro were respectful. He said, not “you’re going to bow down to me,” but “your servants.” That’s the end of the dibur, speech. Once the dibur is finished, God only told me that when I’m talking to Pharaoh, I have to speak respectfully. Once the dialogue is finished, now I can do whatever I want.
So Rabbi Schwab says, “I left. I left.” Now he made a protest against him—not personally. He wasn’t personally angry. It was the anger of God.
Now watch this. Based on this, we go further. What does he tell Paro before he leaves? He says that your servants are going to come down to me. What does that mean? They’re going to bow. This was always strange to me, because I understood it as bowing. I don’t keep bowing. Not in China. The point here is that they’re going to tell me, “Leave.” Do I care whether he bows or not? I can’t—as long as you tell me, say—but he says no. He has a beautiful explanation. They’re going to be so shocked, Paro and his servants, that they won’t be able to talk. Sometimes when you get scared, you lose your voice. You try to talk, but no voice comes out. There will be such a pachad, fear, that all they’ll do is come to Moshe and go like this. That’s the signal, meaning, “You’re the boss.” If I’m bowing to you, I’m submitting myself to you, so do whatever you want. You want to leave? Leave. They won’t even be able to say it aloud. That’s the story; that’s where he learns it.
But I saw an unbelievable interpretation by Shalom Schwadron, the Maggid (preacher) of Yerushalayim (Jerusalem). Shalom Schwadron says something beautiful. Actually, who came to bow in front of Moshe? Paro, as we know from the song the kids sing, “Paro in pajamas.” In the middle of the night, he came in his pajamas looking for Moshe, and he bowed down. What does it mean that he bowed down? Listen to what happened. Moshe told them, “And you’re going to tell me…” What does the pasuk have to add with the words “and you’re going to tell me to leave”? And what am I going to do after that? We’re going to leave? You’re going to tell me to leave, and we’re going to stay? Of course we’ve been waiting for 210 years.
Listen to how beautifully Rabbi Schwadron explains it. “You’re going to tell us to leave, and you know what we’re going to answer you? We’re going to tell you no, we’re not ready to leave. We’re not leaving till tomorrow.” What does that mean? If you’ve been waiting to go for 210 years and they tell you that you can get out of one Rubashkin, when they told him he could leave the jail, did he say, “No, I’m going to go tomorrow”? Tomorrow? Who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow? You run for your life.
Now, after 210 years of slavery, Pharaoh finally tells them, “Tze ata vechol ha'am asher beraglecha.” What does Moshe Rabbeinu say? “Yes, we’re going to leave. V'acharin. After. We’re going to go tomorrow.” This is a big chidush. Until this point, God was showing Pharaoh that He is in control of everything in the world. Dam (blood)—they thought the Nile was a god. Finished; the whole thing turns into dam, it’s fadaya. The ground, the celestial bodies, the animals, and everything else: everything was a lesson to Pharaoh that he was not in control.
But the only thing Pharaoh felt he controlled was being king. He thought he was the king. If you asked Paro, he would say, “Listen, because of me, the Jews are in Mitzrayim. When I decide to let them out, I have the key. I let them out.” God says, “Now we’re going to teach Paro a lesson. All these years he thought he was keeping us in Mitzrayim. He’s a puppet. He wasn’t keeping us. The proof is that he’s going to tell us to leave, expecting us to say, ‘Oh, thank you, Paro.’ And we’re going to tell him, ‘No, we’re not leaving. We’re not leaving when you tell us to leave. We’re going to leave when God tells us to leave, and that’s probably going to be tomorrow.’”
At that point Pharaoh realizes that all these years he wasn’t the king. He thought he was making all the moves. If he was making the moves, he had the key, right? “Go, leave.” And we tell Pharaoh, “What do you mean? You don’t have any right to tell us to leave. You thought we needed your permission? We don’t have your permission. You don’t have the key to tell us to leave. We’re going to leave when the One who has the key tells us, and who is that? God. We’re going mahar.”
So when Pharaoh goes back to Israel, what do they say? “They don’t want to leave. They don’t want to leave. You told them to leave, and they said, ‘I’m not in charge.’” What a demoralizing moment. And that’s why—listen to the beautiful explanation. All these years Pharaoh thought he was the king, but really, who was the king? Moshe. So on the way out, who bows to whom? Paro bows to Moshe. “All these years I thought I was in control, and I thought you were the miskeen coming in and trying to—now I realize you were in control. You got the kingdom from God. You were working for the king. You’re the king’s ambassador.” On the way out, Paro realizes he wasn’t in charge of anything. He bows to Moshe. Can you imagine that moment, when he bows to Moshe? The king of the world is basically saying, “He’s the king.” Rabotai, I’m nothing. And they tell me, “Yes, now you realize that we’re going tomorrow.”
Now, there’s a great Rabbi called Rabbeinu Bahya. Rabbeinu Bahya writes that if a lady is in labor and you can’t get in touch with Kollel Chatzot, let’s say he has a segulah that the baby will come out. Again, I’ll tell you: if a lady is expecting and in labor and the baby is struggling to come out, he says you read a certain pasuk, and if you read it with the proper kavanot, intentions, that I’m going to tell you now, that’s it, the baby will come out. What’s the pasuk? It is, “And your servants are going to come down to me and bow.” What are they going to say? “Say ata, say ata.” “Say ata” means—but this is talking to the baby now. So we have only in this pasuk the sigula. Obviously, it’s al pi haKabbalah (according to Kabbalah). I don’t know the kavanot, but I’ll tell you a little about them. He says that if you say this pasuk—and it happens a lot—I tell the ladies, when the husbands call me, “Rabbi, we need to say gula,” I tell them to read this pasuk: “Say ata, say ata.”
There was a famous story about the Satmar Rebbe. The Satmar Rebbe was reading Parashat Bo, Pichnai Miklav HaTargub. On Friday we read the parashah, and he was reading it. Somebody came to the Satmar Rebbe in the middle of the parashah because his wife was in labor. The Satmar Rebbe didn’t pay attention to him. He kept reading and reading and reading. All of a sudden, when he got to this pasuk, he looked up at the man and read the passage. The man said, “I got scared.” He ran out. Then somebody went back to the hospital. They said, “Unbelievable, the baby came out.” He said, “Tell me, when did the baby come out? What time exactly?” It was at the time the Satmar Rebbe was reading it. So he went back to the Rebbe. The Rebbe said, “I knew what you came for. I was waiting to get to the pasuk, and I had the command. The baby came out.”
Then the Satmar Rebbe said, “If you look at this pasuk, it’s very unique. Maybe there’s only one other like it in the Tanakh. Not in the Torah, but maybe in the Navi (Prophet) there is one.” What you have here is the same word written in three different forms: “Tze, ata”—that’s tze. “V'harichem, etze.” So you have tze, etze, and then it says v'yetze. V'yetze. So you have tze, etze, v'yetze. The Satmar Rebbe said that if you count the letters, tze is two letters. Etze is three letters. What’s that, five? Vayetze is four. That’s nine. Can they get the nine months of a normal pregnancy? Tze, etze, vayetze.
Then the Satmar Rebbe gave a bigger chidush: “Tze, etze, vayetze.” Now explain it like this. I’m telling you, it’s Perek Yud Alef (chapter eleven), pasuk 8. Chapter 11, chapter 11, pasuk 8. Ladies, time is short. I just finished with the Satmar Rebbe. He said, “How many days is a lady pregnant for?” 273, 271, 271. Is 270 days nine months? No. Go slow, go slow. It’s not Kabbalah. This is peshat. It’s nine months. Nine months. Nine times 30. Nine times 30 is 270. 270 is a complete baby, and on day 271 the baby comes out. Gematria, numerical value: herayon, pregnancy. Herayon has a gematria of 271. So the Rav said that’s why the pasuk says, “Tze.” Tze is a tzadi; tzadi is 90. Then it says “Etze,” another tzadi. This is why he had said there’s a third Sunday: three times 90 is 270. After 270, another baby will come back. So in the pasuk itself there’s a remez, hint, to 270 days of the baby. But now I’m going to explain the depth of what this pasuk is saying. I’ll say, “Have a good day,” and we’ll be on our way. Never count all the money, ladies.
The explanation is like this. The Gemara Ta'anit says that Hashem has certain keys, and He does not give these keys over to a shaliach (messenger). For example, the key of the rains, blame. The weatherman can never predict precisely when it’s going to rain. A lot of times they predict it and it doesn’t happen. Even though they have Doppler radar, all these machines, the plays, and all the technology, they can’t figure it out. That’s considered a key that only God has, and He doesn’t give it over to a shaliach.
There’s another key: the key of parnasa, livelihood. It says that parnasa is given directly, as it says that God opens His hands. There’s also the key of—as you know, when the techiyat hameitim, resurrection, will be, as it says in the pasuk, as we say. And the last thing is when a lady gives birth. Could you believe it? They cannot predict exactly when the baby is going to come out, which is stunning with all the medical breakthroughs and all the different things. The doctor says, “Go take a walk around the block. Come back,” and all of a sudden that was—“No, it’s going to be two days.” All of a sudden, boom, the baby comes out. You said two days. He’s the best doctor. They can’t predict it because of the mafteach, key, of chayah, a pregnant lady.
Ben Ish Chai says that’s why we call a key “mafteach.” “Ma” stands for matar, rain. The peh stands for parnasa. The taf stands for techiyat hameitim, and the chet stands for chayah. Chayah is a pregnant lady. That’s mafteach. Mafteach is the shit they bought, the four items, because these are the items that are only by God.
Now we understand, ladies. Watch. Watch. What happened? Paro thought he was holding the key. What does it mean? When the Jewish people came out of Mitzrayim, they considered it as if they had been born. The pasuk says, we were born. In Egypt, it was as if we were in the mother’s womb. It was a very, very painful experience. Then, all of a sudden, when we came out of Mitzrayim, we were born. A nation was born, just out of Mitzrayim. We came out of the terrible birth pains of the womb of Mitzrayim.
So, just as Paro used that statement to free us from the womb of Mitzrayim, when we came out, we were born as a nation. For every Jewish child, if you want him to be born and relieved from the restrictions, the constrictions of the womb, we say this pasuk. But the deeper point is this: who has the key to redeem children who are being born? Only God. That day, when Paro came along, he thought he was a doctor who knew when the child was going to be born. He came along and said, “Say…” Moshe Rabbeinu says, “No, no, no, no, no, no. That key is over here. You don’t have it, Paro. This is the birth of a nation. If we don’t know when the birth of an individual is going to happen, then certainly Kabbalah, the birth of the people. You think you’re such a chacham, wise person? So you’re going to tell us, ‘Say,’ because you’re ba'al ge'avah, arrogant. But when Hashem decides to open the womb of Yetziat Mitzrayim (Exodus from Egypt), then we’re going to come out.”
After he finished that, he turned to Mitzrayim and said, “This is for you,” and smacked him across the face, because now he didn’t have to show any respect anymore. Now he was saying, “You’re the zero, I’m the king, and you’re the eved, slave. You were actually working for me this whole time.”
That’s a great musar, moral lesson, that we learn here about the greatness of our master Moshe Rabbeinu. Look at the self-control he had to exercise—not to react for one year. But the first moment he had a chance to protest against Paro, he took advantage. And look also at all the beauty of HaKadosh Baruch Hu: these pesukim, verses, although they were written thousands of years ago, still have the same energy and power to bring us yeshua. It is my prayer that, in the zechut that we study these parashiyot properly, that we study them in iyun (in-depth study), there should be a new soul for our good friend Gamliel Ben-Bahir, and that there should be zechut for the people to protect us. The zechut of the Rabbis and all the chatzot should be a protection for our community. Amen.