Bo: Makas Choshech and Lo Ra’u Ish Es Achiv—Seeing and Caring for Another Jew

Transcript

This Torah class is brought to you by TorahAnytime.com. Hadneteilah, the parsha, the makah of choshech. Choshech was a time when four-fifths of Klal Yisrael were killed, were taken away. Like it says in the beginning of parshas Beshalach, Vechamushim alu Bnei Yisrael me'eretz Mitzrayim. Chamushim, echad me'chamishah. One of five left; four-fifths remained behind. Big number. It's a lot of people. Four-fifths of Klal Yisrael. Why did they die in makas choshech? So Rashi quotes from Chazal: The reshaim shelo ratzu latzeis. The reshaim who did not want to leave, they died in makas choshech. Why were they reshaim? What makes someone a rasha? If you look in Shulchan Aruch and the halacha, it's not that simple to be deemed, to be coined a rasha. You know, today we use the word very freely: Ah, he's a rasha. Not true, rabosai. Yidden are not reshaim. You have to do specific aveiros with specific intent from the stricter of the aveiros to become a rasha. Just because your neighbor cheppes you or bothers you. It has a nekamah rasha, even though we like to use it freely, ah, rasha, rasha. Nein, s'nisht azoi. It's not so, rabosai. As a matter of fact, we know in halacha it's not even permitted to call someone a rasha who isn't a rasha. You're not allowed to say it even. So what were these people in Mitzrayim that died during choshech, the reshaim? What made them reshaim? What? Doesn't say. Reshaim that did not want to leave. What made them reshaim? So I searched the Chazal, the Midrashim, to find where the Chazal already lead us to an understanding, a little bit of an understanding, why are they reshaim? What made them reshaim? And I found a Medrash in Bamidbar, Tes-vav, os yud-gimmel, if I'm not mistaken, that they were reshaim shema'asu b'Torah uvemilah. These were reshaim who were moyas. They decided that they don't want, they have no feelings, they disgusted, ma'asu b'Torah uvemilah. Torah? Where was the Torah in Mitzrayim? Eighty percent didn't want the milah? I don't know. That's a good question. Let's understand what Chazal are saying here. Ma'asu b'Torah uvemilah. Where was the Torah in Mitzrayim? So I was thinking to myself, since Mitzrayim leaving... The leaving of Mitzrayim was conditioned, ta'avdun es Elokim al hahar hazeh, that you will get the Torah. So Rashi understood that the not wanting to leave, and that's why Rashi says, shelo ratzu latzeis, means that they were me'asu baTorah. They're told that you'll get the Torah, and you don't want to leave, but you're going to get the Torah. That's a sign that you're not interested. Imagine if we come and say, like the Rambam says, Keser Torah is munachas l'chol mi sheyirtzeh, anybody who wants to come and pick it up and get it. It's free. There's no charge. There's no lines waiting for it. Anybody who wants can come and pick it up. Someone who doesn't come and pick it up, what does that tell me? Obviously not really interested in it, right? Because when it comes to things, when it comes to things which it is difficult to receive, people wait on lines for it. People go through difficulty to get it. So Torah, which is munachas b'keren zavis, maybe someone who doesn't come to pick it up...

to decide Sunday morning instead of coming to the shiur, and he'll go here, there, there, here, there, there. Maybe that's a sign that they don't care so much about the Torah. Maybe, chas v'shalom. I have two questions. You can't compare someone who doesn't come to a shiur because it's available to someone who didn't want to leave Mitzrayim. The pasuk clearly says, Zacharti lach chesed ne'urayich, ahavas kelulosayich, lechtech acharai bamidbar, b'eretz lo zeruah. So you see clearly that it was a chesed to go. It wasn't so simple to ask Jews to go into the midbar to leave Mitzrayim. Don't make it that if a person who didn't want to go to leave Mitzrayim to get the Torah is a rasha. Rasha. That means ma'asu. That means they didn't care about the Torah? No, they cared about the Torah, but they maybe had other issues. It's not so simple to leave. And you see that the Eibishter himself, the Ribono Shel Olam himself, looks at it as a chesed of Klal Yisrael to leave. You hear the question? So what's ma'asu? What does it mean, ma'asu? This means that you were mo'as. You know what the word ma'as means? Nim'as lahem. Ze nikra nim'as lahem Torah. What's ma'asu? Ma'asu, ma'asu b'Torah, what does it mean? And if it also means that they didn't want to leave, and that's why Rashi explains they didn't want to leave, right? Resha'im that didn't want to leave, and we're explaining because the Torah was going to be given to you, why don't you want to leave? How about the milah part? That's also because they didn't want to. That has nothing to do with wanting to leave. As a matter of fact, in the Midbar they didn't do milah. The other way around, in Mitzrayim they did milah. So this Rashi can't be coming from this Chazal that they were me'us in Torah and in milah, because clearly Rashi says they didn't want to leave. Leaving has nothing to do with the milah. Maybe it has to do with the Torah, maybe, which is still difficult to understand, but it definitely has nothing to do with the milah. So how are we to read the Rashi? The Rashi says that they were resha'im shelo ratzu latzeis. What does it mean, a rasha that doesn't want to leave? Why are they resha'im? What makes someone who doesn't want to leave a rasha? And someone could ask another question, halachically, if someone doesn't want to leave, he's chayav misah? He has to die because of that? A person who does avodah zarah, he has to die. A person who does giluy arayos, Shabbos. But a person who didn't want to leave Mitzrayim, which one of the taryag mitzvos is it that you make him say that you're chayav misah for it? Where is it? And the mefarshim ask this for a question: why were they chayav? Good, it's a bad thing to not want to leave Mitzrayim, granted. But that the punishment should be death, where does it say in the Torah that this is the punishment for this? So I searched more and I found an interesting Rosh. The Rosh on the Torah, the peirush on the Rosh has a question: why did dosan v'Aviram not die? They were resha'im. How did they survive it? So the Rosh answers that those that died were not reshaim for aveiros, but they were those that were misyayeshu min hageulah, which means that they felt hopeless. No, there's no geulah. It's never going to come, the redemption. Misyayeshu — they had yiush. So it's not that they did aveiros. We were looking to see what aveirah did they do that made them reshaim. The Rosh is mashma it can't be that it was aveiros, because if it was aveiros, then why did Doson and Aviram make it? Why did they survive? And the answer has nothing to do with aveiros. It has to do with not wanting to leave, like Rashi says, right? Misyayeshu — they felt that they lost hope in the geulah. So the first question is on this: is that really what Rashi says, lo ratzu latzeis, they didn't want to leave? It's not exactly the same thing as losing hope. Mita'esh is one thing, and lo ratzu latzeis is really something else. They just didn't want to leave. Second of all, and let's say they were misyayesh min hageulah, what do you want from them? What do you expect from them? You know what it is to grow up enslavement.

In Mitzrayim. I mean, what do you expect from people that lose hope? There was a reason why they lost hope. I'm saying, so what do you want from them? What do you want from people? I mean, what do you expect? You know, there's a rule called tinok shenishba, which means a little child that was nishba, which means he's captive. We say that people who don't know about Torah mitzvahs have a halacha of tinok shenishba, the child that is captive, so he doesn't know better. So we can't hold them responsible. The Chazon Ish goes as far as to say that this is even true in our times, because we don't have mochichim, we don't have anyone who can give proper mussar to guide the people properly. So people who do aveiros, we got to judge them favorably. That's for sure, for sure so, to the people in Mitzrayim who were nishba. They were actually tinok shenishba. They were actually the tinok shenishba. That's the story. They were tinokes children that were captive among the goyim since childhood. So of course they're patur. Of course they have to be dealt with and said that they're not responsible. So how could we take four-fifths of Klal Yisroel? How could we take four-fifths of Klal Yisroel and kill them and say, you know what, you're reshaim. You know what, and yisya'esh min hageulah. What do you want from them? What do you expect from them? What do you expect from people? Tinok shenishba. They're tinok shenishba. So I was thinking to myself. You know, Tinok shenishba is not after you see so many makos. A person who sees so many makos, so much, ah, you can't be called a tinok shenishba. After you saw Hashem, you know, makos bechayreis, you saw anivloi malach, the Eibishter himself. The Eibishter himself came down to do makos bechayreis. So if they saw, so if they saw the Eibishter himself, we can't come and say, you know what, it's not your fault. Of course it's your fault. People who see nothing, I hear. But people who saw Mitzrayim and all the miracles and the wonders, the hand of Hashem they saw clearly. Even Pari recognized that it was the hand of Hashem. So the Jews for sure can't come and say tinok shenishba. You know what the problem with this answer is? Hashem, HaKadosh Baruch Hu Himself says that the Bnei Yisrael are tinok shenishba. The Medrash says that Samael, the sar, the Satan, came down to Mitzrayim, and he started to be mekatrig. It's a Yalkut Shimoni in this week's parshas. He came down to be mekatrig, Halalu ovdei avodah zarah, they do avodah zarah. They do avodah zarah. So not only that Samael said, he went to the Yam Suf and he poisoned the Yam Suf against the Bnei Yisrael. We all know that the Yam Suf didn't want to split when the Bnei Yisrael came. Why? Because the Yam Suf claimed, they're ovdei avodah zarah. They do avodah zarah. Who gave the amsuf this idea? Who poisoned the amsuf against Samoel? The Medrash says Samoel came down and started to be mekatrig, Halalu ovdei avodah zarah. So the Medrash says, HaKadosh Baruch Hu calls Samoel over and says, Shoyteh atah. You're an idiot. You're telling me that the Bnei Yisrael do avodah zarah? Are you being dan shogeg k'meizid, ones k'ratzon? It's not their fault. They're shogeg, they're ones. Tiruf hadaas, bilbul hadaas. What do you expect from them? So you see clearly that HaKadosh Baruch Hu already paskened that the Bnei Yisrael have a din of what? Of tinok shenishba. It's not their fault. You see clearly that Hashem Himself says that they're tinok shenishba. So how could they die? Makas choshech, because they were reshaim. Doesn't make sense. Something doesn't fit here. When Samoel says that they're Halalu ovdei avodah zarah, the Ribbono Shel Olam says they're tinok shenishba. So what happened? How can they die? How come they died? And even more so, if they died during makas choshech, so how could it be that they came to Yam Suf, and by the Yam Suf, Halalu ovdei avodah zarah.

Here, but I thought they just—I thought they died during Choshech. So like the Rosh, it's good, because according to the Rosh, those that did Avodah Zarah didn't die. It's only those that didn't want to leave. It's only those that—but the ovdei Avodah Zarah remained alive. Dasan v'Aviram made it out. So according to the Rosh, it's not a question. How come the Yam Suf said they're ovdei Avodah Zarah if, truthfully, they died during Choshech? That's not a question. Why? Because according to the Rosh, those that did the aveiros didn't die. Who died during Choshech? Only those that were nitya'esh min hageulah. So according to the Rosh, it's not a question. But the first question is a question according to everybody. How could it be that it says that they were resha'im, nisya'ashu min hageulah? Tinok shenishba—what do you want from them? Tiru v'fatas, bilbul v'hatas. Look at the suffering they suffered in Mitzrayim. So why are they called resha'im to the point that they have to die in makas Choshech? This is a question that bothered me for many, many, many years. The sefer Yetziv Pisgam is a sefer from the Klausenberger Rebbe, zichrono tzaddik livrachah. It's his speeches, his drashos. He addresses this question, tinok shenishba, and he brings this medrash, and he says that according to halachah, they didn't have a din of tinok shenishba. Why? Tinok shenishba is only where you don't have a choice. You don't know because you don't know. But where you're given the choice to get out of the situation and to know— You can't come and say, tinok shenishba. He brings a Rambam, where the Rambam says that if a person is under a difficult regime from a government, and he does aveiros, it's not his fault, tinok shenishba, he's captured. But if he has a way out, if he was able to run away from that oppressive situation and he doesn't, then we don't give him the excuse of tinok shenishba. He has a way out. That's what the Rambam says in Hilchos De'os, Yesodei HaTorah, perek hei, halacha daled. So he says that's what Rashi means already. They were reshaim, but, but they were tinok shenishba, but lo ratzu latzeis. They didn't want to leave. So you had a chance to leave and not be a tinok shenishba. We're giving you an opportunity to realize the truth and learn and not be a tinok shenishba. So why don't you take the opportunity? Now you're not a tinok shenishba anymore, because lo ratzu latzeis, because they didn't want to leave. What do you mean? You can't sit in the situation and say, I'm excused. Can a person sit in the difficult situation and say, I'm excused? No. So that's what Rashi—he's taking the halacha and saying that's exactly what Rashi means. Not only it's not a question, but that's even the interpretation of Rashi, that Rashi says, lo ratzu latzeis. The point being, so you're not an ones anymore. You can't excuse yourself: I didn't know, I had no choice, it's not my fault. We're giving you a chance. We're giving you an opportunity to leave. We're giving you a chance to learn. We're giving you a chance not to be an ones. You don't take it. Now you can't excuse yourself, ones. So says the Kloizenberg Rebbe, zecher tzaddik livracha. It's an interesting interpretation of the Rashi. I would like to offer another interpretation based on Torah that my grandfather said in this Rashi. My grandfather explained something very interesting. He says that could be the reshaim that died was because they didn't want to leave knowing that a big part of Klal Yisrael must leave because they're suffering. When someone doesn't leave because he can survive it, but most couldn't survive it. For most of the people, this was treacherous to be in Mitzrayim. And the truth is, rabosai, it's an open Medrash. The Medrash asks, who were the people that died during choshech? So the Medrash says that the Ribono Shel Olam looked into the hearts of everyone, b'choker lev, and he realized that there were certain groups of people who had jobs in Mitzrayim to the kingdom and who had osher v'kavod. They had money and they had honor. There were those that were influentially rich. There was the higher class.

Mass of Jews who hadn't come for Mitzrayim at the end. So Rabbeinu Shalom says, You don't want to leave because of that? I'm going to kill you. My grandfather explains—he doesn't bring the Medrash, but he says this pshat, and I found that that's probably what the Medrash means. And you don't understand that for you it's good, but for your friend it's no good. Look at the poverty. Look at the suffering of your neighbors, which means you don't care. Then you're not Klal Yisrael. Klal Yisrael doesn't have a situation where I live comfortably, I don't care about the outside, my friends, my neighbors, that they're suffering in poverty, they're suffering in tzaros. I'm comfortable. I'm okay. You're not Klal Yisrael. That's not Klal Yisrael. And if you're not Klal Yisrael, then stay in Mitzrayim. Then be like the Mitzri. And that made him the rasha. That made him the rasha. So interprets my grandfather the pshat in the Rashi. The rasha is the person who could see his neighbor suffer under the yoke of poverty and social suffering or whatnot, and you feel, All right, I'm okay. I'm comfortable. I'm okay over here, to the point that you don't feel the need to leave Mitzrayim. That's called a rasha shelo ratzah latzeis. That means you're not really part of Klal Yisrael. What is Klal Yisrael? What does it mean to leave Mitzrayim? You know, it's interesting. Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe Rabbeinu, he didn't work in Mitzrayim. He didn't work in Mitzrayim. Moshe Rabbeinu used to come and go, and, right? Moshe's children, did they work? No. Do you know that when Moshe Rabbeinu wants to bring his children to Mitzrayim, it's either Aharon or Yisro. So Sha'al the Medrash, who told him the following: Don't take them. Al harishonim anu mitzta'arim. We are already suffering, meaning we are already in trouble of the people that are there. You want to add more people to the shibud, more people to the problem? Don't bring your children there. And he listens. He doesn't bring his children there. I have a question. They wouldn't have worked anyway. They wouldn't have worked anyway. What's the difference? They had immunity. What do they call that? A diplomatic immunity. The kids also. Like when they come here for the UN, they can do whatever they want, come and go and bring their children and their families, right? So the question is, if anyway, if anyway, they wouldn't work, so what does it mean, al harishonim anu mitzta'arim v'ata ba? You're adding. And the answer is because a Yid, even if he's not working, but just to be there and see that the other person is working, that's called shibud. That's called shibud, rabosai. Al harishonim anu mitzta'arim v'ata ba lhosif aleihem. We all know. That we have three matzos the night of Pesach. We break the middle matzah, levi. Why do we break the middle matzah, levi? Right, the top matzah is Kohen, the middle matzah is Levi, the third matzah is Yisrael, and the answer is: Levi, shibud, im anochi. You're also part of the shibud. We crack you, but he wasn't working. Yeah, he was working. To sit in Mitzrayim and see what he saw was just as if he would have worked. It's the same thing. Not paying attention to this, rabosai. You know what that means? Not paying attention to this means, rabosai, that you don't see. You live in the dark. You know, one of the parts of the makkas choshech was, Lo ra'u ish es achiv, v'lo kamu ish mitachtav. They didn't see each other. Ish es achiv. Now why does the pasuk use such a language? They didn't see ish es achiv. Just say they were blind. Just say blind. Why do you have to say lo ra'u? They didn't see ish es achiv, each man his brother. I mean, if someone is blind, can you imagine someone turns blind, we tell him, Oh, now you can't see your brother. You can't see anything. What does that have to do, lo ra'u ish es achiv? What does that have to do with seeing the brother? Why the lashon lo ra'u ish es achiv?

I'd like to answer this with something that my zeide explained in the Makas Choshech according to his pshat. He says that every makah was a double lesson. It was a double sicha, double sichas mussar. One was to the Mitzriim, that they should learn a lesson, and one was for Klal Yisrael to learn. It was to teach two lessons, one to the Mitzriim and one to us. Our lesson was, Lo ra'u ish es achiv. Those that died during Makas Choshech, why did they die? Because lo ra'u ish es achiv. They didn't see the brother. They didn't see the suffering. They didn't see the suffering of their neighbor. They didn't see the suffering of their brother. So the Torah teaches this lesson through the makah of lo ra'u ish es achiv. Understand where the Yid had to take a lesson, and that was the lesson that was needed in Makas Choshech, because that's real darkness. Possibly Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe Rabbeinu was born in such a way that his whole mahus, his whole entity, his whole metzius was to care about his brother. That's why it says, Vayar... Vayetze el echav, vayar b'sivlosam. He went out, and where did he go out from? From the comfort. He had tremendous comfort, Moshe Rabbeinu. He was okay financially, as they say, yet he left it all behind to go out to see his brother. That's ohr. Moshe Rabbeinu was born with a lot of light, it says. Lots of light. Moshe Rabbeinu was the Moshiach of Yisrael to care about ish es achiv. And the opposite were these people who were comfort, and they didn't want to give it up because of Klal Yisroel. That's choshech. The difference between Moshe Rabbeinu—Moshe is about light. What's the light? To see properly. You know, a person could see but still live in the dark, as they say. And a person could be blind and still see light. You know, when we talk about a blind person, what do we talk about him? Sagi nahor, a lot of light. Sagi. Sagi means a lot. Why? Because it's an expression of—sagi nahor means we say the opposite. We don't want to say it. We don't say the exactly blind; we say the opposite. The truth is, could be we're trying to say an unbelievable thing. Sight, maybe physically you don't have, but you could still be sagi nahor with a lot of light. Tanoim sometimes, tzaddikim sometimes are blind, but their blindness is a physical blindness. But the light—sagi is a lot. Sagi is a lot of light. It's not a contradiction. You hear, rabosai, that a person, a person can lose physical eyesight, yet not lose his real eyesight. Klal Yisroel is saying, you know, you could be seeing. The Mitzri lost his eyesight. How did he lose his eyesight? Because it was dark, which is a whole question, many more to discuss, that maybe choshech means literally blindness. Why wasn't it regular blindness? The Maharil Chaviv... Taka learns that they became physically blind. That's what happened. The Chasam Sofer addresses this Mari ben Chaviv, and the Chasam Sofer says it can't mean literally blind, because it says, Choshech afeilah, dark afeilah, thick. So it means that there was a thickness to the darkness. You take a look at the Torah. Temimah, it's famous. The Torah Temimah says it was a physical, because it was a cataract. He learns it was the cataract, and everybody yells, Why does he say such a pshat? The truth is, he wasn't the first one to say it. You see, for the Chasam Sofer, the Mari ben Chaviv, others said it before him, that it was actual blindness. L'maaseh, the Chasam Sofer says, No, he doesn't like the pshat. It wasn't that. It was darkness from the outside. Why taka? So what's taka pshat? Why did the Eibishter not make them physically blind? Why do you have to make a nes and make dark? Make them blind. We have by Sdom, isn't that what happened by Sdom? They all turned blind. So turn them all blind and finished. So the Chasam Sofer answers that the reason why they turned blind, they didn't turn blind because when you turn blind, scientifically all the other chushim, all the other senses become stronger. So the Ribono Shel Olam wanted a makah, a real makah, darkness, that they lost all their senses.

They couldn't move, they couldn't hear, they couldn't do anything. If they were turned blind, the other chushim would get stronger. I would like to give a different answer. This is the heilige Tzemach Tzedek's teretz. I would say a different teretz. I would say like this: The Torah was trying to teach them, what is blindness? Sometimes it's a physical blindness of the eye, and sometimes it's the matzav you live in. It's darkness, and therefore you can't see. Choshech is not about blindness of the eye. It's about black, dark, from the life that you're in. Around you is choshech, and therefore you don't see the person around you. A person could be blind two things: physical, and then a person could be spiritually blind. A person could live in darkness. His eyes are working, yeah, but what's around him is all darkness. It's all empty. It's all choshech afeilah. Chai bachoshech. That's what the lesson of makkas choshech was, and both to the Mitzri and to the Jew who didn't want to leave Mitzrayim. Ata chai bachoshech, you're living in darkness. My eyes are working. Of course your eyes are working. That's why you're happy with your house, and that's why you're happy with your job, and that's why you're happy with your money. Very happy, thrilled with your money. You're thrilled. Yeah, but you're living in darkness. What do you mean? I see perfect. One hundred, two hundred dollars, one thousand dollars, ten thousand. I see perfect. That's not called seeing. That's called living in darkness, that you see nothing. Like, ra'u ish es achiv. You don't see what's around you. You see nothing. You're living in choshech. You're living in darkness. This is the chiluk between ohr and choshech, meaning that Moshe Rabbeinu lives ohr. So he gives up his life of comfort to go out and see and help Klal Yisroel. Those at the end who didn't want to leave because of comfort, they're living in choshech. They're living in darkness. And so they were not fit to be part of Klal Yisroel, to leave. What is Klal Yisroel? You know, when we left Mitzrayim, we had a mitzvah called Korban Pesach. One of the tenets, the nekudas of Korban Pesach was, Kol adas Yisrael ya'asu oso, that the entire Klal Yisroel had to do the Korban Pesach. And the Gemara in Pesachim discusses, could it possibly be that all of Klal Yisroel brings one Korban Pesach? And the Gemara says yes. Yes. How could it be? And the answer is shlichus, that one Jew could do for another, it's as if he did it. Interesting. That's where we learn shlichus, here by Korban Pesach. You know what shlichus means? That you do it as if I did it. Shlucho shel adam kemoso. And this is before Matan Torah. By Matan Torah there was arvus. We came together, we accepted to be responsible one for the other. That's why it says, ki ish echad b'lev echad. By Matan Torah we came together and we said, I'm responsible for my neighbor, I'm responsible for my friend. Ki ish echad b'lev echad. I take responsibility for my friend. And so one person could do for another, because we took responsibility, says the Orach Chaim HaKadosh. But that was matan Torah. Here, even before matan Torah, we have halacha called shlichus. Why? And the answer is, kol adas Yisrael. Klal Yisrael has to unite now in order to leave Mitzrayim. The Korban Pesach was unification of Klal Yisrael to the point that we have chaburas. What's the inyan of chaburas? Groups to come together. Different groups have to join together and make up in advance that they'll be part of one group. Families eat together. Why are we eating families, mishpachos, neighbors? The Targum Yonason ben Uziel explains, and my grandfather brings this in the sefer as well, that mis'arvin mishpacha b'mishpacha. One of the things of kol adas Yisrael means that they had to become meshed together, different families, in order to create kol adas Yisrael. The sheichus, the connection, hey, you're there, I'm here, it couldn't work for kol adas Yisrael. In order to leave, they had to unite.

Klal Yisrael as a eidah, as one community, as one entity. And so, mishpachah u'mishpachah, we put together. Normally, families, each family's eat alone. We think it's like today, we have a barbecue, we invite your family and my family, and together we have a Sunday barbecue. We don't find that so much in the Torah. In the Torah, everybody lives, eat with your family. The idea of family was a korban Pesach concept, like the Targum explains, because we had to create a new thing called Kol Adas Yisrael, which was a precondition to leave. I want to tell you something interesting. Normally, there's something called korban ha-shutfin. Two partners come together for a korban. In order for that to happen, you need that each one should have at least one shaveh prutah, one penny's worth, so to speak. For lack of a better term, we'll use the word penny's worth, shaveh prutah in the korban, which means every person has to have an ownership in order to be in the korban of the shutfin, of the partners. Korban Pesach doesn't have that, because all of Klal Yisrael has one korban Pesach. It's possible. That's what the pasuk says: v'shachatu oso, one, Kol Adas Yisrael. So it could be it works with shlichus, yeah, but what do you do with the fact that everyone doesn't have one penny's worth? So how are you ba'alim on the korban? The Pachad Yitzchak asks this for a question, and the Chayei Adam. How are you the owner? You don't have a penny's worth of ownership there. And the answer, and I don't want to go into in great detail because it's a lomdish shaila, it's a halacha question, but what's nogea to the mussar of it. It's an interesting type of korban, korban Pesach, and that is that it's a korban tzibbur, yet a korban yachid. Well, korban tzibbur, we know that you can have one korban for all of Klal Yisrael because it's tzibbur. But here it's a korban yachid; it's each individual's korban Pesach. So the question is, each individual doesn't own a penny's worth? There's a new chiddush here, that this was a korban tzibbur, a korban yachid, which is like a korban tzibbur because that was the concept of korban Pesach, that Klal Yisrael should unite as one. So the new ba'alim, the owner, the yachid becomes the tzibbur as a whole. Each yachid, by being part of the whole, has created something called a korban tzibbur, because korban Pesach had to be creating a new entity called kol adas Yisrael. A goy doesn't have that. We don't, the goyim don't have this idea, this theme of kol adas. It's a concept, a yesod. It's only something which is possible by Klal Yisrael, created through the korban Pesach, that the yachid is the tzibbur and the tzibbur is the yachid, and together it creates a tzibbur full of yichudim, kol adas Yisrael. You know, the pasuk says that when they did the korban Pesach, each person with shecheino... Hakarov eilav. What does that mean? Shecheinai, hakarov eilav, the shachen that's close to him. Lafukei what? They exclude who? Shecheinai, his neighbor. So the Siforno asks this for a question, and the Siforno says maybe it's a goy. Shecheinai might be a goy. His neighbor could be a goy. Well, you make a korban pesach with him? Of course not, right? That's why the pasuk stresses, shecheinai, hakarov eilav, the Jew, because the goy is not karov, he's not close to you. So shecheinai, his neighbor, hakarov eilav. The Chasam Sofer says something very interesting. You know, we think neighbors, we happen to bought at the same time in the same place through the same real estate broker, right? Why are we a neighbor? Because the real estate broker sold me him and sold me, and therefore we're neighbors together. Says the Chasam Sofer that actually the reason why we're neighbors and the reason why friends are friends, because in Shamayim there's a kesher nafshi. There's a connection by the nefesh to the point that we have to do mitzvahs and Torah and learn Torah together. The reason why we join

Together as friends, chavrusas, neighbors, because we are connected above. You think a beis knesset means randomly people show up in a shul? No. There's something from above that's uniting these people, that they have to daven together. Shecheinai hakarov eilav. Your shachen is actually karov. He's connected to you like a relative. And that's why you make the Kaddish with him. It's brought down in the Brisker books that the Netziv said the following to Reb Simcha Zelig Kriger, the Brisker Dayan, when he got married. He married the daughter of the Baal Makri in the yeshiva in Volozhin, the one who calls out the tekios, is called the Baal Makri, tekiah, shevarim, he calls out. So Reb Simcha Zelig Kriger, the Brisker Dayan, married the daughter of the Baal Makri. And who was the Baal Tekiah? Reb Chaim Volozhin, I think he was the Baal Tekiah. So he told, says the Netziv to this Reb Simcha Zelig, You know what shidduch you're making? I want to tell you who your father-in-law is. Your father-in-law is the Baal Makri, and you should know, when you come to Shamayim you'll see the same scenario: Reb Chaim Volozhiner blowing shofar, and the Baal Makri, your father-in-law, standing there, because when people do mitzvahs in this world together. In unification, above it's the same. It remains that way on top too. He says, Kacha mikublani. This is a kabbalah that he received from his families, from his lineage, says the Netziv, that those that do mitzvahs together in this world, for example, a beis knesses, we will daven together in above. Sunday mornings we will be sitting in Shamayim together in this year. Yes. That's something, huh? Point. That's this work of the Cham Sofer, that it's not just random that we're here together doing a mitzvah, learning Torah together. There's a kesher nafshi, a connection from above. Shechinai hakarov eilav. It's not just Shechinah. It's Shechinai. Obviously that's karov anyway to him. There's a connection from above, kesher from the nefashos, that we have to do mitzvahs together, and so, Korban Pesach was to bring out that kesher, was to bring el hapoel, l'maaseh in this world, that kesher that we're supposed to do mitzvahs together, we do it through the Korban Pesach. Why? Because the Korban Pesach was to unite Klal Yisroel in its original form. It was to unite Klal Yisroel in its shoresh. It was to unite Klal Yisroel in its mekor, not just externally, but completely physically and spiritually. And that's why physically they ate together, to spiritually be together, Shechinai with the neighbors, hakarov eilav. Hear my voice. That's Am Yisrael, Klal Yisrael, and that's called yetzias Mitzrayim. This was needed in order to leave Mitzrayim. In order to leave Mitzrayim, we needed to be kol kahal adas Yisrael. And so the Korban Pesach was to achieve that. And it was set up in a way that it was meant to bring out this kol. It meant to establish and to solidify the kahal adas Yisrael united as one, united as one. And therefore families ate together, chaburos ate together. It's interesting. The pasuk tells us that Bnei Yisrael did as Moshe told them to do the Korban Pesach. Kein asu, they also did. Says Rashi, who's they also? Moshe and Aharon. That Moshe and Aharon also did the Korban Pesach. And the mefarshim ask, of course he did the Korban Pesach. It's a mitzvah. Why would they not do the Korban Pesach? The pasuk says clearly, kein asu, says Rashi, they also did. Why would I think they shouldn't do the Korban Pesach?

So there's many different answers given to this question. One answer, Reb Chaim Kanievsky says that Moshe and Aaron themselves did a Korban Pesach. They had a chaburah of Moshe and Aaron. That's what it means. Kein also Moshe and Aaron, they were two in the group. And what's the chiddush? The halacha is you don't take older people in the group. It's only older people. You know why? Because they can't eat that much. And so the korban won't be finished eating. You won't be able to finish eating the Korban Pesach. Moshe and Aaron, even though they were old, they were able to do it, says Reb Chaim Kanievsky. Why? He says because since they were strong, they were neviim. It says clearly Moshe was gibor, so he was able to eat up the whole Korban Pesach. That's Reb Chaim Kanievsky's pshat. Okay. Reb Moshe finds the Zecher Tzadik Livracha in the sefer, says a different pshat. He says that the chiddush is not that they did it because they had to do it anyway, but the chiddush is that that's how they taught it. The pasuk says that they were metzaveh, they commanded the Bnei Yisrael. How did they do that? Kein also, by doing it themselves. They taught by example. Taught by example. A lot of times a person gives a speech, he's not holding by it. Not holding by it. So therefore the person who hears it says, You got to show that you're also doing it. Kein also, they also did the same thing. So I never understood this. I mean, everything was that way. I mean, why only by Korban Pesach? Why only by Korban Pesach? Why only by Korban Pesach? But everything it should have said, Kein asu. Whatever Moshe told me, they did the same thing by example. And Reb Moshe zatzal gives a whole lesson from here that a person should always be mashpia, and wherever he goes, his actions should be a source of lesson for others. And he says that that's pshat, Lilmod u'lelamed. We ask Hashem every day we should learn and daven. A person—I'm sorry—learn and teach. You teach, who teaches? Not even; most people don't teach. He says, Lamed means teaching through example to others. They should learn from you. That's how the Rosh Yeshiva, Reb Moshe zatzal, explains Lilmod u'lelamed. But why here? So I want to say a pshat like this, rabosai. Many Rishonim question, maybe the pshat is Moshe and Aharon, they didn't have to bring a korban Pesach because they weren't in Mitzrayim. Maybe only those that were stuck in Mitzrayim have to bring a korban Pesach. Those that weren't stuck in Mitzrayim, they don't have to bring a korban Pesach, maybe. What is korban Pesach? Korban Pesach is, Mishchu u'kchu lachem, take the korban, avodah zarah, and you're not a part of the avodah zarah anymore, and you're going out. They were never part of avodah zarah. They were never part of the whole story. So then what's the chiddush? The chiddush is that he did it anyway. So why taka did they do it? Were they mitzuvim? If they were mitzuvah, so then again, what's the chiddush? I think the pshat is like this. You know, when a person lives through something, so when at the end, when he brings a korban, it's a whole different experience. It's a whole different experience. That's why the pasuk says, Bechipazon, na'alechem b'ragleichem. It wasn't only to do the korban; it was how the korban had to be eaten, as if you're waiting for the moment to get redeemed. Moshe and Aaron didn't have that because they could leave whenever they wanted. That's the pshat. Moshe and Aaron were able to leave whenever they wanted. So how do you expect them to eat the Korban Pesach? All this real pshat, rabosai. What is the way to eat the Korban Pesach? Standing with your feet, you're in a rush, holding your breath, ready to leave. You're a free person. Yeah, but Moshe and Aaron didn't have that issue. And the answer is, kein asu. They did the same thing as if they were Mitzrayim, ready to leave. And you know why? Because they felt the shibud just as if they were there. They're leaving by example too. The leading by example was that they were able to do the same thing with Klal Yisrael, showing Klal Yisrael, you see, look at me. Even though I'm not leaving. I left a long time. I can go and come whenever I want. I'm also part of the shibud. Imo anochi, I'm part of it. If the Jewish people are in shibud, that means me included. Even though I'm able to leave and I'm free technically, I don't have the whole...

Whole issue. That, that is not called freedom. That's called shibud, yeah? That's the chiddush of Keinos. You know, rabboisai, I want to tell you over two stories. My grandfather, zecher tzaddik livracha, when he came to America from Shanghai right after the war, he got a position, a very, very good position here in America to be a rosh yeshiva, the head of a very famous, good, established yeshiva, Ahavas Torah in the Bronx. Rabbi Yerucham Gorelick, who I think was the menahel, Reb Bick was the mashgiach. It was a fully established, really, you know, I'm saying, it was a school with a parnassah, they paid, you know. My grandfather didn't keep it long. He gave it up after a short while. In one of the letters that he writes to Reb Chaim Shmulevitz, who was at the time still in Shanghai, they were corresponding about getting visas and helping the people to get out of Shanghai, my grandfather writes that he's giving up the yeshiva. Why? He can't swallow that he comes home at night and he's secure in his financial—he has comfort of a job, knowing that most of his brethren, the rest of Klal Yisrael, is suffering still in the DP camps in Shanghai. Can't do it. Can't sleep at night. Can't do it. Can't do it. And therefore, he's giving up the position. He's going to put himself into vad hatzalah to try to get visas, to try to get visas to save, to help the rest of the people get out of the DP camps, to get out of Russia, to get out of Europe. This rabboisai is a person who could say a pshat like this, you see, because he lived like that. He understood what it means, choyshech, to not want to leave Mitzrayim based on your own comfort when you know that the other person is suffering. I understood that my grandfather didn't just write it in the sefer, but he was also what? Mekayem it by example. It's one thing to write it and talk about it and preach it, to show that I'm part of the shibud. But there's another thing, kein asu, to actually live that way and do it l'maaseh. And that's even more, that's special. To preach lofty ideals about caring for the other person, it's good. I'm not saying it's not bad, but it still doesn't come close to kein asu, to be able to live that way l'maaseh, to be able to give up the comfort of Paris home to go out to help his neighbor, by Yaarbasiv loisam. And Moshe was able to do that, therefore, kein asu. By the Korban Pesach, they were able to bring the Korban Pesach as if— They were in Mitzrayim as if they were leaving as well. And this is what my grandfather, I felt very much with my grandfather. He wrote it in the sefer, that that was the problem with the reshaim, imakas choshech, lo ratzu latzeis. But I saw that he actually lived by what the words he preached, and that he really gave up a position for it. My grandmother told me that after that, it was difficult years. There was no money in the house after that, but he gave it up. I can't say I have comfort, I'm okay, I close my eyes and I don't see what's going on in the rest of Klal Yisrael. I want to tell you how I applied. I was thinking all week to myself, but maybe I'm also guilty of the same thing. I'll preach it. Am I giving up my job? Am I giving up my house for others? I'm not doing it. So maybe I'm also guilty of not practicing what I preach. Maybe don't preach it. Maybe it's too much of a lofty idea. Maybe it's way above everyone's head, including mine. What am I bringing out points that aren't so realistic? To care so much. So I was thinking, you know, maybe something will come up where it's more realistic, something that we could, what do you call that, we could not only apply.

It could resonate with us, something that's really on our level. So the Ribono Shel Olam sent me Friday an interesting story, an interesting thing. I sent two of my boys to Brooklyn from Lakewood to my brother-in-law for Shabbos. The Lakewood bus leaves at ten to one from the Capital Hotel. On its way to Brooklyn, I guess, b'kfitzas haderech, within an hour, okay? I come there pretty much on time. I wasn't late. There were so many people waiting for that bus. My two children got the last two seats on the bus. Got the last two seats on the bus. They get on the bus, they got the seats. We get off, I get into the car, and then I look around and I realize there's about twenty people who didn't get on the bus. There's no room for them. So I started to think to myself, here's my opportunity to practice what I preach. You know when a normal person reacts and feels when, My kids got on, Baruch Hashem, my kids got the seat. Yeah, but how about those that didn't get the seat? And I said to myself, You know what? I'm not leaving till I feel that everybody got a place on the bus. And I waited and I waited and I waited, and I said, Ribono Shel Olam, I care. I care. Get everyone a place. I'm not gonna leave till everyone has a place. You feel, I got, right? How do you feel? I got for myself. I got my kids. Okay, and that's it, right? Not my business. My business is he didn't get on the bus. What's it my business, right? They brought another bus. The people got on the bus. Okay. All of a sudden, someone comes down from the bus and tells my son Yitzchak, You should know that the two seats that your brothers are in are very dangerous seats. Not physically, but ruchni. Because the people who are sitting next to them are two boys, kids at risk, and they're not no yiras Shamayim, there's no yiras Shamayim. It's bad influence, bad influence. I would be very scared to have my children sitting next to these two boys. I know them. It's not a good idea. The whole trip, you never know what they could poison the two kids with ideas. I'm thinking to myself, There's no room on the bus. There's no way you could play games with the buses. So I started to panic a little bit, and I said, You know what? I know my kids. They're pretty good. I'll also ask this guy to do me a favor. So I call my son on the phone. I said, Give me that person who was telling me all this, and I say to him, Listen, please help me. Make sure they don't talk. You be their monitor. Make sure. He tells me these words, Don't worry. I'll do my part, my job. You go and do your job by saying Tehillim. Say Tehillim. And I realized to myself, the Ribono Shel Olam is sending me a beautiful message, and that is, you know, we're connected as one family. He cared about my children's ruchniyus. He doesn't know who I am. He never heard of me. He sent me a message through my son Yitzchak. I called him up. You know what he said to me? I'll do my job. How is that his job? What kind of expression? It's his job to take care of my kids. And the answer is, that's called kol adas Yisrael. And my job was to daven. The Ribono Shel Olam, you care about someone else's children's, I'm going to have another Yid care about your children. Kol adas Yisrael yaasu. This is the lesson. Just because you have comfort and you made it on the bus, now I'm not telling you to give up your house for another guy. We're not holding there. I'm not telling you to give up your job for another guy. But the idea of, I have, but my friend doesn't have. It's not, don't look at that as security. That's called klal Yisrael. That's called kol adas Yisrael yaasu, and that's how we leave Mitzrayim, and that was the inyan of makkas choshech. You've just experienced another Torah class brought to you by TorahAnytime.com.