Last week’s parashah concluded with the epochal exchange between Moshe and G‑d over the mystery of human suffering. Moshe protested, “My G‑d, why have You done evil to this people?”; and G‑d replied: “Now you shall see what I will do to Pharaoh; for with a strong hand shall he let them go, and with a strong hand shall he drive them out of his land.”
This week’s reading, Parashas Va’eira (“And I made Myself seen”), opens with a new communication from G‑d to Moshe, in which G‑d says: “I am G‑d (Y-H-V-H). I made Myself seen to Avraham, to Yitzchak, and to Yaakov, by the name of E-l Sha-dai, but by My name . . . I did not make Myself known to them.” G‑d then goes on to reiterate His promise to the Patriarchs to give the Land of Canaan to their descendants, evoking the “four expressions of redemption”: “I will bring you out; I will save you; I will redeem you; I will take you,” which chronicle the various stages of the redemption, culminating in Israel’s election as G‑d’s chosen people at Mount Sinai.
The commentaries see this Divine communication as the continuation of the exchange between G‑d and Moshe at the end of the previous parashah. G‑d’s mention of His relationship with the Patriarchs—Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov—is interpreted as a rebuke to Moshe. G‑d indicated to Moshe: “I regret the loss of those who have passed away and are no longer found. Many times I revealed Myself to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov; they did not question My ways, nor did they say to me, ‘What is Your name?’ You, on the other hand, asked from the start, ‘What is Your name?’ and now you are saying to Me, ‘You have not saved Your people!’” (Sanhedrin 111a). Rashi comments: “You questioned My ways; unlike Avraham, to whom I said, ‘Yitzchak shall be considered your seed’ and then I said to him, ‘Raise him up to Me as an offering’—and still, he did not question Me.”
G‑d also says: “By My name . . . I did not make Myself known to them.” This is understood by the commentaries as G‑d saying to Moshe: “I did not reveal My quintessential truth,” represented by the Divine name, to the Patriarchs; they knew Me only by the name E-l Sha-dai which represents a more limited manifestation of My being. They accepted that they could never comprehend My infinite, unknowable essence. You, on the other hand, to whom I have revealed My truth, question My ways (Rashi; Ramban).
This is how the opening verses of Va’eira are interpreted by the Midrash, Talmud, and Biblical commentaries. The Chassidic masters delve deeper into these verses, and find there more than a rebuke to Moshe: in G‑d’s words they also see an answer (of sorts) to Moshe’s question, and also a justification of his outcry.
The Pendulum Of Life
All life, say the Kabbalists, is characterized by a to-and-fro movement called ratzo v’shav (running forth and drawing back) or mati v’lo mati (reaching and retreating). The heart contracts and expands; the lungs exhale and inhale; the body sleeps, extinguishing its more elevated faculties (cohesive thought, sight, hearing, etc.) in order to rejuvenate its energies; the mind meditates, emptying itself of prior conceptions in order to receive fresh insight; the earth enters night and winter, enduring periods of darkness and hibernation in order to attain a new dawn or spring.
The same is also true of the flow of vitality from G‑d to His creation: this flow also pulsates, running forth and drawing back, reaching and retreating. And the more elevated the bestowal is, the more intense is the withdrawal to precede it. Thus, times of extraordinary illumination from Above are always preceded by periods of profound spiritual darkness.
Thus Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi explains G‑d’s words to Moshe regarding the difference in the quality of His relationship with the Patriarchs and His newly unveiled revelation of the Divine name. “To the Patriarchs,” G‑d says to Moshe, “I revealed Myself only as E-l Sha-dai, relating to them only via the constraints and limitations that define My investment within the created reality. But to you and your generation I shall reveal, for the very first time, the name that connotes My quintessential truth.” For the very purpose of the Exodus (as G‑d said to Moshe at the burning bush) is the revelation at Mount Sinai and the communication of G‑d’s Torah, which is the very embodiment of His wisdom and will.
“You ask why My people must suffer so terribly in their exile. You ask why My face is hidden, why I have seemingly withdrawn My providence over their lives. But this seeming withdrawal is an integral part of the tremendous revelation to come, which shall herald a new, unprecedented intimacy between man and G‑d.”
Indeed, adds the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the revelation of the Exodus and the concealment that preceded it are two faces of the same reality. In order for the People of Israel to relate to the quintessential truth of G‑d revealed at Sinai, they first had to unearth their own quintessential truth—which could manifest itself only in the nadir of their Egyptian galus.
“Truth” is that which is consistent and unchanging, the core reality of a thing that remains unaffected by all external circumstances. The quintessential truth of the Jewish soul is its loyalty and attachment to G‑d; but loyalty and attachment to G‑d under conditions of spiritual enlightenment and material prosperity cannot, in themselves, attest to this truth, as there is no indication that the relationship would endure under less ideal conditions. But when the Jewish soul perseveres in its loyalty and attachment to G‑d in the darkest hour of galus, it manifests the truth of its bond with G‑d, demonstrating that this loyalty and attachment is, in fact, the unalterable core of its being.
“I am Y-H-V-H,” said G‑d to Moshe. “I am in the process of revealing My quintessential self to you. But the only part of you that can apprehend this revelation is your own quintessential self. And your own quintessential self rises to the surface of your souls only under the terrible conditions of galus.”
Mind And Heart
The difference between Moshe and the Patriarchs is also explained by the Chassidic masters as deriving from the different places they occupy within the total “body” of Israel. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov are identified with the attributes of Love, Awe, and Harmony (Chesed, Gevurah, and Tiferes), while Moshe represents the attribute of Wisdom (Chochmah). Otherwise stated, the Patriarchs are the heart of the Jewish People, while Moshe is the mind.
Often, a person who calmly accepts the painful realities of life is described as “taking it philosophically,” while one who agonizes over his own or others’ troubles is seen as “being emotional.” Behind these categorizations is the notion that, in purely rational terms, the cause, or even need, for human suffering can be explained. On the other hand, goes this line of thinking, a person with a sensitive heart will not accept any rationalization of evil, however undeniable its logic.
The truth, says the Lubavitcher Rebbe, is the very opposite. Indeed, the difference between one who cannot reconcile himself to the existence of evil and suffering in G‑d’s world and one who can accept it is the difference between mind and heart; but it is the mind-driven person who incessantly questions and challenges the way things are, whereas it is the one with “heart” who can find it in himself to accept the most terrible of incomprehensibilities.
It is true that logical explanations for evil and suffering have been presented by a succession of philosophers and theologians. For example, it is proposed that suffering refines the human being, teaching him compassion and sensitivity. It has also been explained that there is no greater satisfaction than the overcoming of adversity and no greater pleasure than the conquest of pain. The philosophical mind can also appreciate that a person’s finest and most potent abilities are unleashed only under conditions of challenge and trial. Finally, there can be no denying the axiom that without a truly free choice between good and evil, nothing we do could possibly be of any significance.
These explanations are all valid, in their way; indeed, we have presented one such “explanation” in the first part of this article. But when they are approached from a purely rational standpoint, the mind of the believer will not be satisfied by any of them. Because, after all is said and done, after each of these explanations is examined and the questions that can be asked on them are posed and resolved, there remains one final question: Why must it be this way?
All these explanations, the mind will inevitably argue, are predicated upon our understanding of human and universal nature. But G‑d is the creator of nature and logic; He could have made the nature of things to be other than what they are. He could have made significant what logic dictates is of no significance. He could have created a reality in which there is gain without pain, in which the best in man could be realized without the threat and challenge of evil, and in which the highest peaks of life could be scaled without the momentum of its lowest descents.
This perfectly logical question has no logical answer. Thus, the mind of the believer will never accept the “necessity” for evil and pain.
The heart also perceives the pain—indeed, it senses it more deeply than the objective mind. But while the mind categorizes reality into compatible and non-compatible suppositions, the heart tolerates contradiction. Can you “prove” to a mother that her child is undeserving of her love? It’s not that she is blind to his deficiencies and transgressions; it’s simply that they are irrelevant to her love. Outrage and devotion, judgment and acceptance, pain and pleasure—a heart that loves has room for them all, simultaneously, in its warm embrace.
This, says the Rebbe, is the deeper significance of G‑d’s evocation of the unquestioning faith of the Patriarchs in His words to Moshe. “Moshe,” G‑d is saying, “you are the mind of My people—the mind that is the instrument for apprehending My truth and, with it, illuminating the world. You will even comprehend ‘higher’ aspects of My truth than did the Patriarchs. But as a ‘mind,’ you question My creation of evil and suffering, and can find no rationally satisfying answer. Yet you, too, are a child of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. You, too, have inherited from them the Jewish heart, the intrinsic bond with your G‑d that cannot be shaken by the most terrible of contradictions.”
Seeing Is Believing
Therein also lies the significance of the word va’eira—“and I made Myself seen”—with which G‑d describes His relationship with the Patriarchs, and which gives our parashah its name in the Torah.
There are many ways that a person may come to believe in a certain truth. He may hear of it from a reliable source, it may be proven to him logically, or he may see it himself. Yet there is an essential difference between the perception of sight and all other senses. The other senses are refutable—they merely prove something to the person; subsequent developments can undermine the initial conviction. But sight is absolute. The thing perceived may be denied by the entire world—it may be utterly illogical—but the person who has seen it knows it is true. He saw it.
Faith can exist on many levels—faith comparable to the conviction in something that is heard, for example, or faith as powerful as a logical fact. But the most powerful faith is faith on the level of sight. Faith as sight is absolute; the most blatant rational contradictions cannot shake it. The Patriarchs, the “heart of Israel,” saw G‑d. That is why their faith in Him was not shaken by even the most agonizing “contradictions.”
This also explains a puzzling passage in Rashi’s commentary on our parashah’s opening verse. On the words “I made Myself seen,” Rashi comments: “to the fathers.” But the verse itself says, “I had made Myself to be seen to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov . . . ,” and every schoolchild knows that Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov are the three fathers of the Jewish nation. What is Rashi telling us?
The Jewish people are suffering, and G‑d’s promises seem to only make things worse. To Moshe’s anguished words, G‑d replies, “Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov never lost faith; they saw Me.” Yet Moshe and his people are obviously not Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov—that’s why they reacted the way they did. So what is G‑d telling them?
Therefore Rashi explains: G‑d’s response to Moshe is that He “made Himself seen” to the fathers. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov are the progenitors of the Jewish people in every sense of the word. Just as a child inherits the physical and psychological characteristics of his parents, in the same way, each and every Jew inherits the qualities of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. Their every trait, experience, and achievement are stamped in our spiritual genes.
Because our fathers’ faith in G‑d was as absolute and unequivocal as sight, the potential for such faith exists within each and every one of us. No matter what our more external senses perceive, we can delve into our own selves for the inherent ability to see G‑d: to sense His commitment to us even in the “darkest” of times.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, zt’l; adapted by Yanki Tauber. Courtesy of Chabad.org. Find more Torah articles for the whole family at www.chabad.org/parshah.