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JANUARY 13, 2022 | The Jewish Home OCTOBER 29, 2015 | The Jewish Home
From the Fire Parshas Beshalach
A Sorry Substitute By Rav Moshe Weinberger Adapted for publication by Binyomin Wolf
L
et us consider one reason Tu B’Shvat always occurs around the week of Parshas Beshalach, which is also called Shabbos Shira because that is when we read the song the Jewish people sung at the sea after it was split. Dovid HaMelech says in Tehillim (106:7), “And [the Jewish people] rebelled, v’yimaru, by the sea [and] in the Red Sea.” This translation of v’yimaru as “rebelled” follows Rashi, the Malbim, and the Metzudas Tziyon. Each one explains some way the Jewish people rebelled both “by the sea” and “in the Red Sea.” The problem is that the word v’yimaru usually does not mean “rebelled,” but instead means “exchanged” or “substituted.” We see this from that which the pasuk (Vayikra 27:10) says about a korban, “You shall neither exchange it nor substitute, yamir, it.” We also see this in the verse from Yigdal, “G-d will neither exchange nor substitute, yamir, His law.” What did the Jewish people substitute by the sea and in the sea? The Midrash (Shemos Rabah 24:1) explains each of the Jewish people’s exchanges: “‘By the sea,’ in that they did not want to descend [into the water.] ‘In the [Red] Sea,’ how did they exchange? When they descended into the sea, it was full of mud... Reuven would say to Shimon, ‘In Egypt, there was mud, and in the sea there is mud. In Egypt, there were mortar and bricks, and by the sea, there is mortar and mighty waters...’’ The complaints recounted by the Midrash are unfathomable. The Jewish people were, at that moment, experiencing the greatest miracle
ever to occur in the history of the world. They had, moments earlier, been saved from imminent death at the hands of the Egyptian hordes behind them and wild animals on either side. How could they possibly have said, “Meh. We walked in mud in Egypt, and we’re walking in mud now. How is this any better?” as they walked with the sea standing miraculously like walls on either side of them!? The Midrash is clearly highlighting for us a remarkable, but dark, aspect of human nature. A person can live through the greatest moment of his life but never lift his eyes off the floor. He can remain immersed in the lowest smallness, in the mud at his feet, even as he stands at the most uplifting time in his life. The Steipler Gaon, zt”l, related a story that took place when he was a bachur studying in the Bialystoker branch of the Nevardok yeshiva. One time, in 1914, he was about to return
to yeshiva. The father of another boy from his town asked the Steipler if he could deliver a letter to his son when he arrived in Bialystok. Of course, he agreed. The letter appeared to be very important, as the father had sealed it on all four sides. So the young Steipler placed the letter carefully in his jacket pocket before leaving for Bialystok. Unfortunately, the outbreak of World War I prevented him from being able to travel, but he resolved to deliver the letter to his friend whenever he found him. Approximately eight years after accepting the letter, the Steipler found his friend from yeshiva. At this point, the young man’s father had already passed away. The Steipler told him about the letter, and the young man was visibly moved. He began crying as he accepted the letter. He could not believe that he had the opportunity to receive one last message from his father from beyond the grave. Emotionally, the son began
to read what turned out to be his father’s last will and testament: “To my dear and precious son, when you return home from Bialystok, which has the best herring in the world, please do not forget to bring me some herring.” While obviously the father had no way of knowing that this would be his final message to his son. It is so sad when a person exchanges greatness with smallness. The Steipler commented that this father would go to face his judgment at the end of his life boasting that he had the privilege of being a man who spent his life in search of the perfect herring. Some Jewish people, as they crossed through the sea, substituted the greatness of the moment with a focus on the mud at their feet. Yet there were others, like the maidservant at the sea (Mechilta, Beshalach 3), who went another way. Even though she otherwise spent her days cleaning floors, she recognized the power of the moment and opened herself up to a prophecy greater than that which was revealed to the Navi Yechezkel. So many of us make these pathetic exchanges. I was once at a chasunah at which the two sets of in-laws began physically fighting with one another under the chuppah. And if I told you what they were fighting about, you would not know whether to laugh or cry. I was recently at a pidyon haben. How often does one attend a pidyon haben? Two or three times in his life? The zayde of the baby spent the whole time swiping endlessly on the screen of his phone. What more pathetic sight can there be than an old man trading the exalted moment of the pidyon haben
