Parashas Shemos: Pay Attention to Hashem’s Message

Topics

• The Burning Sneh and Moshe Rabbeinu’s Turning to See
• Hashem Calls Only After Moshe Turns
• The Question on the Extra Stages
• The Meaning of Asurah Na
• The Second Opinion in the Midrash
• The Sforno and the Physical Wonder of the Sneh
• The Salamander and the Burning Bush
• A Lesson to Be Understood
• Listening to What Is in Front of Us
• The Kli Yakar on “Asurah Na”
• Yetzias Mitzrayim and Seeing the Details
• The 250 Makkos and Shovavim
• Asarah B’Teves and the Direction of the Days
• Avelus on Shabbos and a Taanis Chalom
• Shovavim and Strength
• “Nasan Einav V’Libo”
• Paying Attention to What One Sees
• “Vayeitzei el Echav”
• A Simple Example of Attention
• Seeing and Knowing the Chofetz Chaim
• The Mitzvah of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim
• Yehudah and Yosef: Words That Enter the Ear
• The Brisker Rav’s Pshat
• The Beis HaLevi’s Approach
• Hergish HaLeiv: Understanding Beyond the Words
• The Chafetz Chaim and the Judge
• My Grandfather and the Delegation to Albany
• The Meeting with the Governor
• The Lesson of Vayishma Yisro
• A Transition to Yetzias Mitzrayim
• What Happened and What Really Happened
• The Depth of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim
• Rav Atlas and the Haggados
• Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim Speaks to Each Person
• The Ash Thrown Toward Shamayim
• A Pesach Story Repeated at Home
• Yetzias Mitzrayim Beyond the Rules of Nature
• Everyday Life as Yetzias Mitzrayim
• One More Lesson
• Kriyas Yam Suf, Bitachon, and Paying Attention
• Emunah and Bitachon
• Seeing Kriyas Yam Suf in Daily Life
• The Heart Pulls Toward Kedushah

Transcript

## The Burning Sneh and Moshe Rabbeinu’s Turning to See

This week’s parshah is Parshas Shemos. At the beginning of the parshah, we have the episode in which Moshe Rabbeinu comes across the *sneh*, the burning bush. It is a phenomenon: the *sneh* is burning, but it is not being destroyed. It is not being consumed, although it should have been.

The pasuk tells us: “Vayeira malach Hashem eilav belabas eish mitoch hasneh.” Moshe Rabbeinu sees this. What does he see that catches his attention? “Vayar, vehinei hasneh bo’er ba’eish, vehasneh einenu ukal.” The *sneh* is burning in the fire, and the *sneh* is not being consumed.

So it already caught his eye. It caught his attention; something interesting drew him. “Vayomer Moshe, asurah na ve’ereh es hamareh hagadol hazeh, madua lo yivar hasneh.” Moshe says: Let me turn aside and see this great sight, why the *sneh* is not burning up.

Lichorah, the pasuk already says that this is what he saw: “Vayar, vehinei hasneh bo’er ba’eish, vehasneh einenu ukal.” How far was he? It was obviously within a distance where he could see it. Yet Moshe says, “Asurah na”—I need to turn, I need to go toward the *sneh*—“ve’ereh,” and I will see “hamareh hagadol hazeh, madua lo yivar hasneh.” But he was already seeing it. He wanted to examine it more closely.

## Hashem Calls Only After Moshe Turns

If you take a look, the pasuk continues: “Vayar Hashem ki sar lir’os.” Hashem saw that he turned to look. “Vayikra eilav Elokim mitoch hasneh.” Hashem calls out to him: “Moshe, Moshe,” and he says, “Hineini.”

All the mefarshim point out that from the pasuk it seems that had Moshe not turned to look, to examine the *sneh*, he would not have received this nevuah. The malach appeared, and the Eibishter was sending a message; then, “Vayar Hashem ki sar,” and “Vayikra eilav Elokim.” The Eibishter Himself called him. The Eibishter speaks to him and gives him the entire future mission, to go down to Mitzrayim. And this was because “Vayar Hashem ki sar lir’os.”

It is clear in the pasuk that had Moshe not moved toward the *sneh* to examine it, he would not have received this. Why not?

## The Question on the Extra Stages

It could have been a very simple story: the *sneh* is burning, and the Eibishter calls to him from the *sneh*. But there is a lot more happening. First, he sees the *sneh*. Then Moshe says, “Let me go toward the *sneh*. Asurah na—let me go toward the *sneh*—ve’ereh, and I shall look at this great sight.” He needs to turn toward it and examine it. Then Hashem saw that he turned to the *sneh*, and only then, “Vayikra eilav.”

It could have been much simpler: the *sneh* was burning, and “Vayikra Hashem eilav mitoch hasneh.” Moshe sees it, then he says “asurah na,” that he has to go toward the *sneh*. But does “asurah na” mean to go toward the *sneh*? Maybe it means the opposite—that he will go away from the *sneh*. One can turn toward, and one can turn away from.

# The Meaning of *Asurah Na*

The Kli Yakar learns that “*asurah na*” means that Moshe went away from the *sneh*. That is how the Kli Yakar understands it: not, “Let me go toward the *sneh*,” but, “Let me turn away from the *sneh*.” So we do not even know exactly what happened.

Now, what was this “*asurah na*”? Was he far away, with good vision, and therefore he went closer to look at it?

One opinion in the Midrash says: how far did Moshe go toward the *sneh*? Five steps. He took five steps toward the *sneh*. That is the big deal? I know Moshe Rabbeinu was very tall, and his steps were large, gigantic steps, but still, it is not much. Let us say he did it with the *chumra* that some people have, that when they step back after Shemoneh Esrei they take another two steps. So maybe it was a distance; I do not know.

# The Second Opinion in the Midrash

What about the second *man d’amar*? The second *man d’amar* says that he merely turned his head. “*Asurah na*” does not have to mean feet walking toward it. “*Asurah na*” means, “I will turn my head toward it.” He saw it, and he turned his head in order to see. That is the *lashon* of the Midrash: he just turned his head. His head was facing one way, and he turned it a little bit.

What is the big deal? What was it? Do you hear the question? It is three *pesukim* in our *heilige* Torah. What is it about? It could have said: the *sneh* was burning, Hashem called to him from the *sneh*, and he saw it. But then the Torah says, “*Asurah na*,” and I am not even sure what that means. According to one *peshat* in the Midrash, it barely means anything: he just turned his head. And the *pasuk* says that Hashem saw that he turned his head. Because of this? He did something special. What did he do? What is the *pshat* in the Midrash?

# The Sforno and the Physical Wonder of the *Sneh*

Before I tell you a Sforno, let me read you a Sforno. It is a very nice, classic Sforno.

The Sforno learns that what caught Moshe’s eye was not something *ruchnius*, but something physical. He looked at the *sneh* and said, “I do not understand. How could it be that a *sneh* is on fire and it does not get consumed?”

So what is “*asurah na*”? “*Asurah na*” means: let me go check it out, to touch it. Why? The Gemara in Chagigah tells us that there is a special type of oil, salamander oil. The Gemara in Chagigah 27a says that a salamander comes from fire. You ever notice that a salamander usually has a red color? It comes from fire.

Rashi explains what it means that it comes from fire. I do not know if science today believes that salamanders come from fire, but in the Gemara and in Chazal, I believe it. It is a *chayah nivres min ha’eish*, when a fire burns in one place for seven years continuously.

# The Salamander and the Burning Bush

When you keep a fire burning for seven straight years, that is how a salamander is created. If you want to make a salamander in your backyard, you would have to maintain a fire for seven straight years, and then you would have it. What is the special quality, the scientific quality, that it has? Fire has no *shlitah* over it. What is it? It is an animal, a type of lizard. It is a salamander.

The Toldos Yitzchak says that Moshe Rabbeinu thought that perhaps the reason the bush was not being consumed was because it had salamander oil on it.

You know what this means. At a big party, sometimes they bring out a lunch, and there is fire—like a bonfire, though not a real fire. They put a little alcohol, create a flame, and it does not really consume anything. People put fire in their mouths, and it goes out right away. Moshe Rabbeinu was checking: maybe this was salamander oil, and therefore the fire was not consuming the bush. So he went to check it with his hands, to touch it.

The Midrash says “להביט,” to look, but I understand that it means more than that; he wanted to put his fingers on it. The Ribono Shel Olam told him, “וירא ה׳ כי סר לראות, ויאמר אל תקרב הלום”—do not go near it. It is not a physical phenomenon; it is a *ruchniyus* phenomenon. Do not touch it. “אל תקרב הלום.”

# A Lesson to Be Understood

There is a beautiful Seforno that learns that Moshe’s approach was not to touch it, and it was not about a physical matter.

On “אסורה נא,” Rashi says, “אסורה מכאן להתקרב”—I will turn aside from here to come closer. The Seforno says: What did Moshe want? “אתבונן”—let me think into it. Let me concentrate; let me understand what this is.

Moshe Rabbeinu, as every Yid should be, when he sees something, is supposed to be *misbonen*: What is going on here? There is a lesson. It is teaching me something. Everything in life is there to teach us something. Everything around us has a *pshat*; things do not just happen.

“אתבונן”—let me go and think. What is the lesson? What is it teaching? When something is different, when something is strange, when something does not make sense: “אתבונן.” Let me see what the lesson is.

Chazal tell us that there was a tremendous lesson. What was the lesson? Klal Yisrael is like the bush, and all the fires of the world cannot extinguish it. All the fires in the world will not extinguish this bush.

Moshe Rabbeinu understood that if there is something physical that does not make sense, it must have a *pshat*. It is teaching me something; it is telling me something. There is a lesson. “אתבונן”—let me learn what it means.

The baalei mussar say that, ממילא, “וירא ה׳ כי סר לראות”—Hashem saw that he turned to look, that he went to understand. ממילא, Hashem said: I will give him the answer.

In every situation in life, when a person wants to understand the message, and he is *misbonen*, Hashem says: I will give you the answer; I will give you the lesson and the message. If you do not care...

## Listening to What Is in Front of Us

A person can live his whole life that way. Everything around him can be calling out to him: “Yehudi, ta’aseh teshuvah. Yehudi, do what is right. Yehudi, I am talking to you.”

We always discuss the Ribbono Shel Olam: “Why does He not come and give me guidance, teach me a lesson, talk to me?” The answer, of course, is: What do you expect? That He should come to your front door, knock, and say, “Shalom Aleichem”? He does talk to you. But do you listen?

Why are we not listening? Because we are not taking what is in front of us as a lesson. Hashem talks to us from within the *sneh*, but it depends on “ki sar liros.” At first it was a *malach*: “Vayeira malach Hashem eilav.” A *malach* is a messenger. The Eibershter sends many messengers to talk to us. When we are “sar liros,” when we turn aside to see, then we get a direct explanation of what the message is supposed to be.

What did Moshe Rabbeinu do? “Asurah na.” What did he do already? Not much. It could have been five steps. According to another *pshat* in the Midrash, he turned his head. It takes no more than a conscious decision to pay attention.

A person goes through life, just going and going, and does not stop for a second. Stop. Today I would not even tell you that you have to turn your head; just stop. Stop for a second and ask: What is happening here? What happened to me in life? Hashem is talking to me. Hashem is telling me, “Do this, do that.” You have to look into it. Otherwise, you can go through the whole world and not notice.

So it is not much: five steps. And even if five steps seems like a lot, then he turned his head. It was a conscious effort not to keep going and going. “I turn my head to watch.”

## The Kli Yakar on “Asurah Na”

I want to tell you something interesting. The Kli Yakar says *pshat* in “Asurah na ve’ereh”—“I will turn aside and see.” How do you turn away and look? It sounds strange. If you want to look, should you not go closer?

The Kli Yakar says that Moshe Rabbeinu understood something about life: sometimes, when you are too close, you do not see. You have to take a step back. It is the same point from a different perspective. Sometimes we need to be *misbonein*, to go close and look at the small, fine details. And sometimes we need to step back and see the entire picture.

## Yetzias Mitzrayim and Seeing the Details

Hashem talks to us. That is the lesson: “Vayar Hashem ki sar liros.”

Yetzias Mitzrayim had tremendous lessons. There are people who could read Yetzias Mitzrayim as we do today and say, “That is a nice story. That is a beautiful story.” But the truth is that the story is in the detail.

Let me ask you a question. The ten *makkos* that we had in Mitzrayim—the pasuk tells us about the chiyuv of Yetzias Mitzrayim, and we speak about those *makkos* in depth. But the truth is, how many *makkos* did we have at the Yam? Many, many more. Many more. You say in the Haggadah, in Mitzrayim...

## The 250 Makkos and Shovavim

According to one opinion, there were 250. Could you tell me what they were? Two hundred and fifty—unbelievable. The nissim, the makkos—what is the answer to the kashya? There were 250 makkos there.

I want to show you something interesting. I know that Shovavim is a big thing among the Sephardim, and it is a big thing among the Chassidim. But why is Shovavim now, at this point? What does Shovavim have to do with these parshiyos?

I saw a very interesting Reb Yerucham. Reb Yerucham says it is not so much about the parshiyos; it is about the time of year.

It is the yemei hageshamim, the days of rain and snow, blizzard, gevurah, storm. It is a stormy time, a time of gevurah. We need to take a lesson from the environment around us. The Eibershter is saying: in these days, you have to be strong.

In inyanei arayos, it takes tremendous gevurah, tremendous strength. We find that Yosef in Mitzrayim was very strong in inyanei arayos. It took tremendous strength to overcome. It takes gevurah.

Reb Yerucham says that the environment around us is giving us mussar. It is unbelievable. Did you understand what I just said? When you go outside, you see it. Unfortunately, we live in a very warm society. Before anyone raises the claim of global warming, I am not going to get into it—whether there is global warming or not, I do not know. But one thing is certain: blizzards, storms, cold—this is gevurah, strength. You have to be strong to go out in the cold. The mussar from the environment is that we should be strong.

The world speaks to a Yid and tells him: this is a time of gevurah.

## Asarah B’Teves and the Direction of the Days

I do not know if you remember, but last week we mentioned that Asarah B’Teves is a fast when the days are starting to get longer. The Yaavetz says that Shivah Asar B’Tammuz, Tishah B’Av, and Tzom Gedaliah occur when the days are getting shorter and shorter.

The Yaavetz points out the difference. We spoke last week that Tzom Gedaliah, Shivah Asar B’Tammuz, and Tishah B’Av are about a tekufah of the past: the Beis Hamikdash. We lost the Beis Hamikdash. It is the end of the era of the Beis Hamikdash, and we mourn it. It is the end, a decline.

Asarah B’Teves, as we spoke from the Chasam Sofer, is about the future. On Asarah B’Teves they are dan: Will we have a Tishah B’Av, or will Tishah B’Av be a Yom Tov because we will have the Beis Hamikdash? That is how the Chasam Sofer explains it, and he explains that this is the reason we would fast on Asarah B’Teves even on Shabbos.

## Avelus on Shabbos and a Taanis Chalom

Because it is not about the past; it is about the future. I spoke about this last week. It is like a **taanis chalom**. You fast a taanis chalom on Shabbos. Why? Because you want to be **mevatel the gezeirah**; it should be good. So that can be done even on Shabbos.

Regular **aveilus** is about a past loss. Is there aveilus on Shabbos? No. But on **Asarah B’Teves** we fast. Why? Because it is not only about the past, what we lost, but about the future that we hope to make better.

The sun rises. It is the beginning of the **tekufah**, when the sun is rising. The surroundings around us speak to us. Every day in the calendar, and every moment that we live in this world, the **Eibishter** speaks to us through the **beriah**.

## Shovavim and Strength

Rav Yerucham is telling us about **Shovavim**. What is Shovavim? Shovavim is **avodah**. You have to be strong.

I want to show you something very interesting, Rabbosai. Moshe Rabbeinu was in the house of Paroh, and all of a sudden it says, **“Vayeitzei el echav”**—he went out to his brothers. **“Vayar b’sivlosam”**—he saw their burdens.

Tell me, how did he know that they were his brothers? “Vayeitzei el echav”—he went out to his brothers. How did he know he was Jewish?

It could be that his mother sang lullabies to him. Jewish mothers used to sing their children to sleep; maybe he heard those beautiful lullabies, and Moshe Rabbeinu grew up with that. Maybe that is how he knew. But I never found it anywhere in Chazal. I always wondered: how come Chazal do not say it? I cannot say I am a baki in every Midrash, but I looked and I cannot find it.

“Vayeitzei el echav”—how did he know? How did he know that he was a Jewish person?

## “Nasan Einav V’Libo”

If you take a look, Rashi says, **“Nasan einav v’libo lihiyos meitzar aleihem”**—he placed his eyes and his heart to be distressed over them. “Vayar b’sivlosam”—he saw their pain.

“Nasan einav v’libo”—what does that mean? What do we gain from the fact that he put in his eyes and his heart? He saw, and he felt. What does “libo” mean?

There is a Midrash that says he spoke to them words of encouragement, and he told them how much he loved them. He told them, “Halavai, I wish I would have died instead of you. If the choice were that you live and I take your place, I would take your place and die for you.”

So it could be that “libo” means this: it is one thing to go out, but if you do not do anything, what do you have? Maybe “einav” means he placed his eyes—he looked to see how he could help. And “libo” means he gave them his heart.

Maybe the pasuk is telling us not only passively what he felt, but that he did something. He gave his eyes.

A lot of people sit at home and hear that someone is sick. What do they say? “Nebach, refuah sheleimah.” But the choleh does not have much from that.

I always speak about how people see signs in shul: “Daven for this person.” What are they moved by? “Ah, I feel bad.” Feeling bad is good.

# Paying Attention to What One Sees

What did Klal Yisrael have from it? In order to do something, **“nasan einav”**—you have to put your eyes toward it, to see whether you can help. **“Libo”**—you put your heart into it. You spring into action: *nasan einav*, perhaps there is something to do.

But I will tell you another pshat. **“Nasan einav v’libo lihiyos meitzar aleihem.”** For Moshe Rabbeinu to feel the pain, he was not naturally attuned to it. He grew up in a palace. So how was he able to identify with the pain of his brothers?

The answer is that he watched. He allowed his heart, by itself, to feel what it had to feel.

A Yid has within himself tremendous *hargashos*, tremendous natural feelings. But because we do not stop and pay attention, because we are not *misbonen* in what we feel and what we see around us, we miss it. We lose it. We are not *tofeis*; we do not understand things.

## “Vayeitzei el Echav”

**“Vayeitzei el echav”**—something was drawing him, and that is what he realized. Was it a conscious decision? The answer is no. **“Vayeitzei”**—he went out. He was being drawn. **“Vayeitzei el echav”**—he was being drawn.

A person can see, but his eyes are not watching. A person can see, but his eyes are not watching. A person can be involved, but his heart is not feeling. You need to be *nosan*; you have to pay attention.

The difference between a life in which a person is growing, taking in all the *ruchniyus* and being attuned to what is around him, and a life in which he is not, is how much attention he pays. There is a lot around you, but you have to pay attention to it.

## A Simple Example of Attention

I am going to repeat this in a minute, but before I repeat it, I want to give you one way to see it in a simple form. Ready?

**“Vayeitzei”**—where are you going? Where are you going?

That is the whole *shmuess*. It is not enough to be here; you have to pay attention. Do you know how many people are sitting here? But if you do not pay attention, you will not walk away understanding much.

You wanted a *halachah l’maaseh*, with an example? This is the best example.

## Seeing and Knowing the Chofetz Chaim

My grandfather, *zatzal*, once said that the best vort he heard about the Chofetz Chaim, his rebbi, he heard from Reb Simcha Wasserman, the son of Reb Elchanan. Reb Simcha Wasserman once said that many people ask him, “Did you see the Chofetz Chaim? Did you know the Chofetz Chaim?”

He would answer, “Those are two very different questions. Saw? Yes, yes. I saw. Many saw. Many saw, but few knew.”

There is a very big difference between seeing and knowing. Seeing and knowing. A person can see an entire life, but what did he know from it? What did he gain? What did he internalize? That is the right word: what did he internalize from all of it?

A person can see, but only if he gives his eyes the ability to focus. The heart has to focus.

# The Mitzvah of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim

A person can see something, and it still does not move him.

I want to tell you something interesting, something that will help you understand. What is the mitzvah of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim? “L’maan tesaper b’oznei vincha u’ven bincha.” Tell me, why does the pasuk say “b’oznei,” in the ears? Where else would you tell a story—to his nose, to his eyes? Where else would you tell it?

It is the same idea. Now the whole shiur fits together. “L’maan tesaper b’oznei vincha”—it has to enter the ear. A father can sit at the Seder on the night of Pesach and talk and talk and talk, but it may not go anywhere. The mitzvah is that it should go into the ear.

# Yehudah and Yosef: Words That Enter the Ear

Yehudah taught me this lesson. Which Yehudah? Not Yehudah this one or that one—Yehudah from the Shevatim.

When Yehudah wanted Yosef to hear him, what did he say? “Yedaber na avdecha davar b’oznei adoni.” What does “b’oznei adoni” mean?

First of all, do you know how loudly Yehudah was speaking? The Midrash says that when Yehudah cried out, all of Mitzrayim shook. So what was the problem? Did Yosef turn off his hearing aid and Yehudah had to tell him to turn it back on? What does it mean that he wanted to speak “in his ears”?

The answer is that there are two kinds of hearing. There is hearing the sound of the words, but that is not enough. “B’oznei” means that the words must enter directly. Rashi says it clearly: “Yikansu devarai b’oznecha”—I want my words to enter your ear.

But why would they not enter his ear? If Yehudah is speaking directly to him, what more is needed?

# The Brisker Rav’s Pshat

I want to tell you a beautiful pshat from the heilige Brisker Rav.

The Brisker Rav asked: Yehudah had been speaking the whole time through a meturgeman, an interpreter. How did he even know that Yosef understood his language? As far as Yehudah knew, Yosef did not know the language. So why did he say, “Let me speak directly to him”? What made him think Yosef would understand?

The answer is everything we have been speaking about. The Brisker Rav says that Yehudah was not relying on the words themselves. It was not about the words. He wanted to speak with emotion. He wanted Yosef to see him, to pick up and understand—not the words, but what was behind the words: the heart.

That is what Yehudah was thinking. The words, the speech, were not having an effect. “I keep talking and talking, and it is not entering.”

# The Beis HaLevi’s Approach

The Beis HaLevi learns it very simply. He says that Yehudah wanted to speak without the meturgeman because he thought perhaps the interpreter was distorting the message. If Yosef was not understanding simple things, maybe the problem was the meturgeman. Let us remove the meturgeman and speak directly.

That is the Beis HaLevi’s approach. Take away the meturgeman; maybe he is the problem. I will speak directly.

It makes sense. Everything I say that makes sense, and suddenly it gets worse. So maybe the meturgeman—

## Hergish HaLeiv: Understanding Beyond the Words

He is saying one thing, and I do not know what is being said. I say, “Good morning,” and he is saying, “Go jump in the lake.” What do I know what the meturgeman is saying?

But the Brisker Rav sang even after that. How did he expect Yisroel to understand the language? According to the way it was set up, you needed a meturgeman, because Yisroel needed translation. So what did he think?

The answer is that there is something called **hergish haleiv**. It is deeper than words.

I could talk to you from today until tomorrow, but you will not understand if the heart is not picking it up, if the heart is not trying to pay attention to what is being said. If you do not pay attention to the words, you can walk away repeating the words and not understand anything.

## The Chafetz Chaim and the Judge

There is a story with the heilige Chafetz Chaim, and this is really where people speak about this idea. He had to give testimony for one of the talmidim in the yeshiva, because they had accused him of being a spy. Of course, he was not a spy; it was an alilah, a libel.

The Chafetz Chaim came and began to speak on behalf of the bachur, saying that he was a good boy. The lawyer wanted to translate it. The judge said, “It is not necessary. I got it. I understand.” The Chafetz Chaim was speaking Yiddish, and the lawyer wanted to translate it into Russian so that the judge would understand. The judge said, “It is okay. I understand.”

It is not only the words. A person can see things in front of him all day long, but he has to see what is behind them. His heart has to want to understand what is in front of him. Otherwise, the lawyer can speak beautifully and eloquently from today until tomorrow, and that will not convince the judge.

## My Grandfather and the Delegation to Albany

In modern-day history, so to speak, I have told you many times the story about my grandfather, **zecher tzaddik livrachah**. I heard the story from Rabbi Schoenfeld, one of the rabbanim here in the neighborhood, Rabbi Schoenfeld Senior.

In the early 1950s, there were Sunday blue laws, and if a person did not come in on Shabbos, he could lose his job. It was a big **nisayon** for them not to work on Shabbos.

They tried to make a **mishlachas**, an organized group, to go to Albany and meet with the governor, to convince him that Jews should not have to work on Shabbos. They were **matzliach**. These were called the blue laws. A person could not be fired because he would not work on Shabbos. Contrary to what people tell you—over the years I have heard people say, “I have to work on Shabbos”—no, you do not. You do not have to work. It is not true. You do not have to work on Shabbos.

The group was going to Albany to have a meeting, an appearance—I cannot find the exact English word—with the governor. My grandfather headed this group, this **mishlachas**, this organization, for a full year.

Right before they were supposed to travel to Albany, my grandfather turned to Rabbi Schoenfeld and said, “Who is going to take me? Who is going to drive me to Albany? How am I going to get there?”

Rabbi Schoenfeld told me directly, “I said to your zeide, ‘Walkin, you do not have to go. You do not even speak English. What would be the point of your going? You do not speak the language. The few words that you say—what would be the point?’”

To this my grandfather answered, “It is my baby. I took care of this. It is my little project, my child. I have to go.”

So Rabbi Schoenfeld said, “All right, he wants to go. He is right.” He arranged a ride. But it became much more complicated, because right before they went in to have the meeting...

# The Meeting with the Governor

When the governor turned to Rabbi Schoenfeld, he asked, “Un ver geit redn?” Who is going to be the first speaker?

Rabbi Schoenfeld answered, “We will start with a rabbi, and then a lawyer, and then a rabbi, and then a lawyer.”

Yehuda said, “Un ven gei ich redn? When am I going to speak? I want to speak first. I want to be the first speaker.”

Rabbi Schoenfeld said that his feet turned to jelly. Those were the words he used: his feet turned to jelly. He was thinking to himself, “A whole year down the tube. You do not speak English. You have one shot at it. Can you imagine if the first thing the governor hears is Yiddish? If he starts, they will send us out, and that will be it.”

My grandfather would not take no for an answer. “I am going to speak.”

Rabbi Schoenfeld said it was unbelievable. What was he supposed to do?

My grandfather got up and, in perfect Yiddish, began to speak, and speak, and cry, and cry. The governor turned around and said, “Rabbi, don’t cry. I understand. We are going to work on it. We are going to work on it.”

I can tell you what the speech was, because it was printed in the Albany newspaper, translated from Yiddish into English. My grandfather said: America believes in human rights. The rights of a human being are so strong that they apply not only to the individual’s soul, but even to his body. When a person passes away, there is respect for the body. A soldier will not leave his friend in combat when he has been shot, when he has been killed. You have to protect him. I do not know if in World War II they had those same rules, but usually in war, and certainly when they bring back a soldier’s body, it is done with honors. And it is only a body. So the soul, for sure, has human rights. You should respect the rights of humanity, of the human being.

Shabbos is the soul of the Jewish people. That is what Yehuda said. Since Shabbos is the soul, you have to respect it and give us the human right to be able to keep Shabbos.

But all of this was said in Yiddish, with tears. The governor was moved by it.

Rabbi Schoenfeld told me that when they left, Yehuda, who had a good sense of humor, turned to him and said, “You see? I knew exactly what to say. I knew exactly what to say.” Rabbi Schoenfeld told me that he had a great sense of humor. He gave him a pat, as if to say, “You see? I knew exactly what to say.”

# The Lesson of Vayishma Yisro

What was the point of the story? A person can talk and talk, but if the listener is not able to understand and accept what he is reading and hearing, if it does not enter him, he has nothing from it.

The Baalei Mussar explain this by Yisro. The question is: the Torah says clearly what he heard, so what is the chiddush of “Vayishma Yisro”? What is the answer?

The answer is that it was not just the general hearing that everyone hears when they read. What did he hear? The details, what was behind and between the lines. That moved him, spoke to his heart, and made him come.

To move people, it is not about what you say. To move people, you have to connect with them so that they understand, accept, and are able to be misbonen and learn something from it.

All of life is that way. If you are not sensitive to it, you will not learn from it.

# A Transition to Yetzias Mitzrayim

I want to show you something interesting. We spoke about Yetzias Mitzrayim. What is Yetzias Mitzrayim? Do you know?

## What Happened and What Really Happened

From what the pasuk tells, from the way the story is reported, to what really happened, there can be almost no sheייכות, almost no connection. There is a very famous saying: someone experiences a situation, and a day or two later he reads about it in the newspaper, and it has nothing to do with what happened. We read only the newspaper, so we think, “This is what happened.” But the person to whom it actually happened says, “What?” Why? Because the newspaper gets it only from the outside. The details are not seen. But the person who experiences it knows all the details.

The Rambam writes—do you remember the lashon of the Rambam? Look it up afterward. What is the mitzvah of sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim? What is “eir’u”? What is “hayu”? That is a good question. The Rambam tells us what sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim is. What is “eir’u v’hayu”? The teretz is very simple: “Eir’u” is what happened; “hayu” is what really happened.

In every story there are two stories. There is what the eyes see externally, and then there is the story behind the story. There is the depth. There is perhaps even the ruchniyus’dige chelek of every story.

## The Depth of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim

You have to tell the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim. Mitzrayim fills us in about so many different things. You think the story of Mitzrayim—which we are going to read now in the parshiyos, Shemos, Va’eira, Bo—is only what you see in front of you? There is so much.

I will give two examples. You have to understand: we could sit and read these parshiyos from today until tomorrow. From today until tomorrow. Did you ever think about how many Haggados have been written?

## Rav Atlas and the Haggados

My rebbe, Rav Shuster shlita, told me a very interesting story. He told me that Rav Elchanan Wasserman had a father-in-law, Rav Atlas. He was a great gaon, a great talmid chacham. Of course, he was not as famous as Rav Elchanan, but Rav Elchanan quotes him in his sefarim all the time. He was a great person, Rav Atlas.

There was once an asifas rabbonim, and Rav Atlas was present. Each rav got up and said, “Let us make this takanah; let us make this innovation; let us do this thing, that thing.” Rav Atlas got up and said, “I want to be matzia that we should not print any more Haggados.”

Everyone looked at him. “Are you joking? Everyone is speaking about making shemiras halashon, about not talking in the synagogue. We have such good ideas. And this is what you suggest? You are joking with us? We should not print Haggados?”

So he said, “Let me tell you.” He was trying to give them a lesson. He said, “From everything I heard here tonight, from all the different ideas, good things could come from them. But you never know the flip side. Maybe it is a mistake. Maybe it is not a good thing. Maybe something bad will be the totza’ah. It is tricky. Everything is a question: will it work, will it not work? But from this, nothing bad could come out.”

He was giving them a lesson through the Haggados.

## Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim Speaks to Each Person

And you know what it is? The Rambam says that every person has to speak about Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim *kefi tzachut leshono*. I want you to look this up also. That is the lashon of the Rambam: *kefi tzachut leshono*, according to his language.

Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim speaks to everyone individually. Everyone has his own lessons that need to be learned from Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim. That is why we have so many Haggados. You understand now the world of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim? It spoke about so many different lessons to so many different people throughout the generations. *Lefi tzachut leshono* means every person according to his language. It speaks to them. That is why we have so many Haggados, so many lessons.

## The Ash Thrown Toward Shamayim

Let me point out two beautiful lessons, and then we will end. Okay? Good? Maskim?

Moshe Rabbeinu was told to take ash, grind it, and throw it up toward Shamayim, and that brought shechin, a tremendous makkah. Could you tell me what the connection is between these two things? Hashem wants to make a miracle, so He needs Moshe to throw it up? Right? No, the olam is not interested in that. He could do it without anything, right? Hashem created the world.

It is a great question. What is this hocus-pocus, this heebie-jeebie? What do you need it for? Sorry that I am using the terminology; I am trying to wake up the olam a little bit. What do we need the hocus-pocus for? He took ash, he ground it, and he threw it up into the sky.

Rav Yerucham, the Mashgiach, asked this question. Why did he have to do this?

And the answer is: just as you understand that it has nothing to do with the other, that is why he did it. Just as you understand that the ash Moshe threw up has no natural connection to the makkah that came, that is exactly why Hashem wanted it—to show you that one has nothing to do with the other. It is all nissim v’niflaos.

A person in life thinks: I do this, I have parnassah. I do this, I have a house. But one has nothing to do with the other. If, for your ruchniyus, it is good for you to have this amount of parnassah and this house, then Hashem will give it to you. All you have to do is what is required of you, and you will receive it. But a person thinks: I will go, I will make, I will do, I will stand, I will say.

Yetzias Mitzrayim teaches us through life experience. The Jews had to learn and experience this in Mitzrayim. How did the makkah come? The last guy in shul went into his kitchen, took out a little cumin—you are into cumin—and a little turmeric, right? Anyone from India knows turmeric. He ground it and threw it into the sky. You think he got upset? That brought shechin la’aretz?

## A Pesach Story Repeated at Home

I will tell you a story that I say all the time, because in my house, every Pesach, they say this over. *Chok v’lo ya’avor*. Certain things in my home became part of Pesach: say it, we say over the story.

My grandfather used to say it, and my father used to say it after him, that there was once a boy who used to go to Sunday school. His father, unfortunately, was not religious, but he wanted his child to have a Jewish Krias HaTorah for his bar mitzvah, that he should be able to read the Torah portion for his bar mitzvah, so he sent him to Sunday school.

The father could not make a Pesach Seder; he did not know anything. So he sent him to the grandfather in Florida. The grandfather in Florida would make Pesach with him. He comes to the Seder.

## Yetzias Mitzrayim Beyond the Rules of Nature

A grandfather once asked his grandson, “Chaim, tell me, what did you learn in Sunday school about Yetzias Mitzrayim?”

He said, “Grandpa, I learned that there was a great evil dictator, like Hitler. His name was Pharaoh; he was the Hitler of his time. He took the Jews, rounded them up, put them into ghettos, and forced them to do labor—until a big general came, Moshe, like Eisenhower. Moshe came with his ability to wage war, and he waged war against Pharaoh. Every week he sent another Scud missile, and they bombed them out, until finally the Jews were able to run to the desert. Then, by the ocean, they were stuck, so Moshe took an atomic bomb and threw it on the Egyptian people. That was it; the war was over.”

The grandfather was horrified. “This is what they teach you in Sunday school?”

The child answered, “Grandpa, if I told it to you the way they really taught it to me, you would think I’m crazy, my teacher is crazy, and my father is crazy for sending me to school. Bugs, sores, fireballs, grasshoppers, frogs—you would think I’m completely insane. I told it to you the way you know it. I cleaned it up a little.”

We have become used to the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim, but what is Yetzias Mitzrayim telling us? There are no rules of *teva*. That is the beauty of the story. The story is teaching that it was not bombs, and it was not an atomic bomb. It was something beyond the normal framework entirely, something that had nothing to do with *teva*. Hashem said, and it happened. Hashem said it would happen, and it happened. That is it.

The same way there is no natural connection between soot from a furnace and *shechin*—*piach kivshan*, thrown into the air, and it produces boils—so too the makkos taught lessons that had to be learned from them.

## Everyday Life as Yetzias Mitzrayim

Everyday life is like a Yetzias Mitzrayim. We say *Az Yashir* every single day. In halachah it is brought down that whoever says *Az Yashir* with simchah every day is forgiven for all his aveiros. It is a tremendous halachah brought in the Mishnah Berurah.

What is *Az Yashir*? A person is supposed to envision himself as if he was at Krias Yam Suf. The answer is: “*B’chol dor vador chayav adam liros es atzmo k’ilu hu yatza miMitzrayim*.” Do you think the story of Krias Yam Suf was only history? Every day, a person goes through Krias Yam Suf in other forms.

We have to pay attention to the Krias Yam Suf that Hashem provides for us every day. The Gemara says that parnassah is like Krias Yam Suf, and a zivug is like Krias Yam Suf. Pay attention: it is like Krias Yam Suf, and the miracles that happen are like the miracles of Krias Yam Suf.

It is eternal, and it has to be internal. When you say *Az Yashir*, think of yourself there. Take the lessons around you from Krias Yam Suf. Understand that we all go through that same scenario.

## One More Lesson

I just want to end, as I said, with one more lesson. There was something unique about Krias Yam Suf, as the Gra brings from the Mechilta...

# Kriyas Yam Suf, Bitachon, and Paying Attention

We brought up and learned that the ocean split and we went through. Chazal teach that, in fact, we kept walking in the ocean, and as we walked, it split in front of us. We took another step and it split; another step and it split; another step and it split. We learned from this that a person had to go into the water, and only then did it split. Why?

## Emunah and Bitachon

Yetzias Mitzrayim was Emunah. All the sefarim teach that it was Emunah. What is Emunah? Emunah means that Hashem runs the world. Kriyas Yam Suf was Bitachon. We had to show that we trust.

In Mitzrayim we did nothing. Hashem did everything for us—miracles; it had nothing to do with us. Bitachon is how we respond to Emunah. When we have Emunah, now we need to have Bitachon. Bitachon means we have to jump into the water, trusting Hashem.

You know how Bitachon works? It is a test every moment. A person cannot say, “I was masig the madreigah of Bitachon.” Every moment he is going to be tested again. Every moment of the day brings a new nisayon, a new test in Bitachon that he has to overcome. That is the Kriyas Yam Suf of years past, and it is also the Kriyas Yam Suf in every person’s daily life.

## Seeing Kriyas Yam Suf in Daily Life

You have to pay attention to what is around you. You will see the ocean split in front of you, but you have to pay attention to it.

Could you imagine a person coming in after a full day and saying, “You do not know what happened to me today. You have no idea. I went through the Red Sea. You know how I went through it? I went through the Red Sea; I was like a fish. I jumped in, and I came through.” You would lock him up, right? You would tell him, “Obviously, you had a hard day’s work, and you need a little medication.”

No. Every person, when he looks around him, sees geulah, sees redemption, sees Hashem there, sees Kriyas Yam Suf. You have to pay attention, and then Hashem will show you Kriyas Yam Suf and Yetzias Mitzrayim. Pay attention, pay attention, pay attention.

## The Heart Pulls Toward Kedushah

Your heart will draw you. Rabbi Yerucham speaks many times about how, in ruchniyus, the heart pulls a person in a certain direction. He brings a proof from Yaakov and Esav: they were mifarkes latzeis. One was jumping toward the yeshiva, and the other was jumping toward avodah zarah.

Rabbi Yerucham asks: when does the yetzer hara begin? It is a big question. Is it only when a person is born? “La’pesach chatas roveitz” would seem, simply, to mean when one is born. It is a discussion, one of the famous discussions. So what was Esav jumping for?

The answer is that Esav was not kadosh; he was tamei. Tumah attracts tumah, and kedushah attracts kedushah. That is how Rabbi Yerucham explains it. Yaakov was jumping toward kedushah.

Every Jew, every Yid, his heart pulls him toward kedushah. His heart pulls him to see HaKadosh Baruch Hu everywhere, with his eyes and with his heart. You have to pay attention to it. You have to let your heart go where it is supposed to go, and then you will see HaKadosh Baruch Hu in every step and in everything you do.