Parashat HaShavua - Bo
Why, after hundreds of years of slavery, would we care what the Egyptians thought of us on our way out? This week in parashat Bo, when Bnei Yisrael are on the verge of leaving Egypt, God instructs Moshe: “Say into the nation’s ears that each man should ask from his neighbor, and each woman from her neighbor, objects of silver and gold, and God will give the nation favor in the eyes of Egypt…” / דַּבֶּר־נָ֖א בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י הָעָ֑ם וְיִשְׁאֲל֞וּ אִ֣ישׁ מֵאֵ֣ת רֵעֵ֗הוּ וְאִשָּׁה֙ מֵאֵ֣ת רְעוּתָ֔הּ כְּלֵי־כֶ֖סֶף וּכְלֵ֥י זָהָֽב. וַיִּתֵּ֧ן יְהֹוָ֛ה אֶת־חֵ֥ן הָעָ֖ם בְּעֵינֵ֣י מִצְרָ֑יִם..” (Ex. 11:2-3) In fact, when God initially told Moshe how the Exodus would unfold, God said, “I will give this nation favor in the eyes of Egypt; and when go leave you will not go empty-handed / וְנָתַתִּ֛י אֶת־חֵ֥ן הָֽעָם־הַזֶּ֖ה בְּעֵינֵ֣י מִצְרָ֑יִם וְהָיָה֙ כִּ֣י תֵֽלֵכ֔וּן לֹ֥א תֵלְכ֖וּ רֵיקָֽם.” (Ex. 3:21) And, ultimately, we are told that this is how it plays out: “God gave the people favor in the eyes of Egypt, and let them have their request / וַֽיהֹוָ֞ה נָתַ֨ן אֶת־חֵ֥ן הָעָ֛ם בְּעֵינֵ֥י מִצְרַ֖יִם וַיַּשְׁאִל֑וּם.” (Ex. 12:36)
Why would we care if the Egyptians viewed us favorably as we left? Not only were they our vanquished oppressors, but in light of their character as a people, their judgment of others – whether positive or negative – would be dubious at best. An incredible answer to this question is offered by Nechama Leibowitz: the purpose of having Egypt view us favorably was “to diminish rancor and weaken feelings of vengeance, helping us to fulfill God’s command that ‘you shall not abhor an Egyptian because you were a stranger in his land / לֹֽא־תְתַעֵ֣ב מִצְרִ֔י כִּי־גֵ֖ר הָיִ֥יתָ בְאַרְצֽוֹ’” (Deut. 23:8). (Studies in Shemot p. 191) She derives this idea from the commentary of Benno Jacob, who explains that “since the Egyptians could not be expected to offer gifts of their own initiative, Israel was bidden to spur them to do it and say to them: Let us part friends and we’ll take with us a parting gift.” (p. 190) In other words, the concern here is less about what the Egyptians think of us and more about what we will think of them, and therefore how we will treat them.
This question of whether and how much to be concerned with the thoughts of our enemies reminds me of a passage we recite at the conclusion of our Amidah, taken from a prayer that Mar the son of Ravina offered after his: “To those who curse me let my soul be silent, and may my soul be like dust to all / וְלִמְקַלְּלַי נַפְשִׁי תִדּוֹם, וְנַפְשִׁי כֶּעָפָר לַכֹּל תִּהְיֶה.” (Bavli Berachot 17a) Why would we stay silent, as though to accept the curse as true, or worse, accept its fulfillment as our fate? And why would we want to be “like dust” to anyone, let alone our enemies? The Maharsha (Poland 1555-1631) in Chidushei Agadot seems to view these as strategies for self-preservation: don’t respond (“be silent”) – ״שנפשי תדום מלהשיב להם״, and hope to not be noticed or cursed further (“like dust”) – ״שלא יחושו עלי כלל אלא שאהיה נחשב בעיניהם כעפר ולא יקללו אותי.” Tosafot, however, offers a more positive spin regarding the second part: “just as dust never ceases to exist, may it be God’s will that my descendants never cease to exist, as God says, ‘your descendants will be like the dust of the earth’ / מה עפר אינו מקבל כליה לעולם, כן יהי רצון שזרעי לא יכלה לעולם, כמו שהוא אומר ׳וְהָיָ֤ה זַרְעֲךָ֙ כַּֽעֲפַ֣ר הָאָ֔רֶץ׳.” This hews more closely to what was discussed above regarding Egypt, because it reflects a sense of self that transcends and endures beyond a particular moment of suffering at the hands of an enemy.
And then there is Rabbi Nachman of Breslav, whose interpretation is most similar to Benno Jacob and Nechama Leibowitz:
“When a person is in a dispute, one should not position oneself opposite those who hate and say ‘I will do to him what he did to me,’ because it gives the one who hates what they want, to God forbid see in a person what he wants to see in him. Rather, it is appropriate to give them the benefit of the doubt, and do them all good graciously; then “my soul will be like dust to everyone,” like the dust everyone walks on, and it provides all good things: food and drink, gold and silver and precious stones – everything is from dust. In the same way, even though they disagree with him and seek his harm, even so he will do all good towards them.
כשיש מחלוקת על האדם, אין לעמוד עצמו כנגד השונאים לומר כמו שעושה לי כן אעשה לו כנגדו, כי זה גורם שהשונא יבא למבוקשו, לראות בו ח"ו מה שהוא רוצה לראות בו, רק אדרבא ראוי לדון אותם לכף זכות, ולעשות להם כל הטובות בחינות ״ונפשי כעפר לכל תהיה,״ כמו העפר שהכל דשין עליה, והיא נותנת להם כל הטובות אכילה ושתיה וזהב וכסף ואבנים טובות, הכל היה מן העפר. כמו כן אף על פי שהם חולקים עליו ומבקשים רעתו, אעפ"כ יעשה להם כל הטובות.
While the seeming self-deprecation and deference – even subjugation – here feels inappropriate to me, I still hear helpful echoes of what Jacob and Leibowitz suggest is the purpose of the favor that God causes the Egyptians to show us: that we should not react to and treat our enemies in a way that reflects poorly on us, that causes us to act in a way that is inconsistent with our essential values.
And yet: at a time when we are currently engaged in such a bitter and painful struggle with many truly horrible enemies, it is especially difficult for me to fathom the voices in our tradition that expect so much of us in how we relate to our enemies. One is reminded here of the midrash, ritualized on Pesach by the wine we spill from our kiddush cups, where God scolds the angels for wanting to sing when the Egyptians meet their demise at the Reed Sea. (Bavli Megillah 10b/Sanhedrin 39b) And we are taught, “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice; and when he stumbles, your heart should not celebrate / בִּנְפֹ֣ל אֽוֹיִבְךָ אַל־תִּשְׂמָ֑ח וּ֜בִכָּשְׁל֗וֹ אַל־יָגֵ֥ל לִבֶּֽךָ.” (Prov. 24:17) But within that same book of Tanach we also are taught: “When it goes well with the righteous, the city rejoices; and when the wicked perish, there is song / בְּט֣וּב צַ֖דִּיקִים תַּעֲלֹ֣ץ קִרְיָ֑ה וּבַאֲבֹ֖ד רְשָׁעִ֣ים רִנָּֽה.” (Prov. 11:10) So which precept are we meant to follow, and when?
To me, the difference seems to be between how we are being told to act and what we ask from God and the world. At the same time that we are not meant to rejoice or celebrate at the defeat of our enemies, we still pray for the righteous to prevail, and that when it goes well for them there is much rejoicing; and that the songs that are enabled, sung and heard most often by God and throughout the world no longer be laments, but rather inspired by the cessation of evil in our lives and in the world around us.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Jack Nahmod
Middle School Judaic Studies Head
Rabbinic Advisor
