Vaera
In the portion of Vaera things have gone from bad to worse for the Israelite slaves, but God reassures Moses that the redemption will begin. We read about Moses' staff turning into a serpent and the first seven plagues.
Vaera - Seth Farber
Seth is the director of ITIM (www.itim.org.il), a Jerusalem-based organization that helps secular Israelis navigate the labyrinths of the Israeli rabbinate, and rabbi of Kehilat Netivot, a modern Orthodox synagogue in Raanana, Israel. He received his PhD from the Hebrew University and his wife Michelle and their five children are responsible for his sanity.
Were the ten plagues good for the Jews?
As the Exodus narrative unfolds and the Israelites move closer to redemption, it is clear that something has gone drastically wrong. The promise made to Moses was that the Exodus was to go smoothly. And yet, at the conclusion of Parshat Shmot, Moses is devastated, having been humiliated in Pharaoh's presence and in the eyes of his fellow Jews.
Redemption, both national and personal, is often seen as goal oriented. For example, we look at a former alcoholic and say: he or she has gone through a catharsis. But we don't consider what he went through, or even why.
Theoretically, at least from the biblical perspective, God could have brought the Jewish people out of Egypt on a magic carpet. Was there really a need for Moses to fail at first? Moreover, was there really a need for ten plagues? Could Jewish redemption only emerge out of pagan suffering?
While many commentators argue that the ten plagues were meant to teach Pharaoh or even the world a lesson in God's power, the biblical text makes it strikingly clear that the Exodus scheme contains a message for the Jewish people.
I would argue that this message is not merely to demonstrate God's might, but rather, a subtle (and effective) critique of some unpleasant moments in ancient Jewish history. Subsequent to Moses being flushed out of Pharaoh's presence (Exodus 5), he snaps at God saying, more or less "what have I done to deserve this?" God responds, "Now you shall see what I will do to Pharaoh, for with a mighty hand will I send them out, and with a mighty hand will I thrust them from the land." It is this verse that introduces our parsha, and, in fact, the ten plagues.
The succession of words, "send out" (root: sh.l.ch.) and thrust out (root: g.r.sh) only appears once prior to this section. When Sarah seeks to send out Hagar from her house, she asks Abraham to thrust her out (g.r.sh) (Genesis 21). Of course, Abraham, seeking to be kind to his wife and son, Ishmael, sends them away (sh.l.ch), providing them provisions for the desert. Similarly, the Hebrew phrase "strong hand" (Yad chazaka) mysteriously also finds its way into that episode. Wandering about the desert, Hagar abandons Ishmael, only to be met by a messenger of God who tells her "Hachaziki et yadech bo" (hold his hand strongly).
Upon reflection, the connection between the punishing Exodus and the Hagar narrative is clear. Abraham (or Sarah), after all, had enslaved an Egyptian woman, and chose to kick her out of his home into the desert in order to protect his domain. What a great irony that a few generations later, the tables would be turned and Abraham's descendants would be enslaved by the Egyptians. Perhaps the biblical narrative needed to amend this tragic moment in Abraham's career, where he (and Sarah) were unsympathetic to Hagar's plight. The Jewish people needed to know what it meant to be thrust out, or sent out. The magic carpet would have been insufficient.
But then why punish Pharaoh? Perhaps the Egyptians had to suffer for the mistake of their ancestor. Hagar refused to hold steadfastly to the hand of her child, at his most vulnerable moment. She refused to use a "yad chazaka". In a great moment of biblical irony, the bible stresses that this pathetic behaviour does not go unpunished. Her descendants will understand, all too well, the power of a strong hand.
For the modern reader, Parshat Vaera is painful. Either you say we believe in a vindictive God, or one who doesn't seem to keep his promises. But seen from the perspective of dramatic irony, the suffering of Jews and Egyptians alike is seen to promote a greater purpose: to teach us not to allow others to suffer no matter who or where they are.
Another Voice - David Hoffman
David is a barrister and musician and regular Limmudnik and volunteer, especially with Limmud Fest (co-chair in 2009) and Manchester Day Limmud (co-chair 2009, 2010) as well as organising Acoustic Cafe at Conference for the past few years.
Vaeira tells of the 10 Plagues, a terrible but momentous event in our story of exodus and freedom. As you will know from the Seder, we do not, as such, celebrate the 10 Plagues. We acknowledge their part in our freedom, but we also remember with sorrow the deaths and suffering of the Egyptians which paved the way for it.
Some years ago, I was asked to assist with a children’s presentation on the 10 Plagues, with musical content, and it was suggested to me that we do a song which someone had found setting this story to the tune of "She'll be coming round the Mountain". It seemed to me that a jaunty tune for the 10 Plagues was not in keeping with the way in which we generally consider these events, so I wrote a blues song instead which I hoped struck a slightly more mixed note.
This seemed to me to be important: it is something remarkable that the Jewish people, for all their suffering of persecution over the years, is encouraged not to glory in the suffering of others, even of our enemies, even where we benefit. It is one thing to give thanks for the defeat of our enemies, and those who directly attack us. It is something else to celebrate suffering in any form, and something unworthy of us.