Nehar Deah

Shemot

The Mystery of the Meeting at the Inn

Many traditions exist as a backdrop to the biblical narrative, some of which are already lost to us. The Bible itself mentions the existence of writings that we no longer have: “Therefore it is said in the Book of the Wars of Hashem …” (Bereishit 21:14), “… is this not written in the Book of Yashar …” (Yehoshua 10:13) and other similar examples and there is no doubt that many orally transmitted sources have also fallen into the depths of forgetfulness. Therefore, when we encounter a story which is vague, we can uncover its full meaning by researching the nature of the traditions that exist as its background. It seems then that this is what we must do with the story of the fateful meeting in our parasha: “And it came to pass by the way at the inn, that Hashem met him, and wished to kill him. Then Zipporah took a stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and threw it at his feet, and said, ‘Surely you are a bloody husband to me.’ So he let him go; then she said, ‘A bloody husband thou art, because of the circumcision’” (Shemot 4:24-26).

In order to understand it’s meaning, we need to examine the wider context of the story: When Hashem reveals himself to Moses at the burning bush, He commands Moses to return to Egypt in order to take the Children of Israel out of the land. In order to carry out this mission, Hashem gives him detailed instructions: what to say to the Children of Israel, what to say to Pharaoh and what signs and wonders to use in order to gain the trust of those listening. After some deliberation, Moses accepts this mission, leaves his father-in-law who lives in the Land of Midian and starts traveling with his wife and children along the way to the Land of Egypt. Suddenly, without any prior warning, we read of the obscure and frightening meeting at the inn.

The key to understanding the mystery of the meeting at the inn lies in the phrase “wished to kill him”. We can summarize the topic in three or four simple questions: Who asked (from whom) to kill whom and why? The Midrash obviously finds wide scope for its requirements and suggests two possible solutions to the story: According to one, Hashem wished to kill Moses and according to the other, the angel of Hashem wished to kill Moses’ son (Babylonian Talmud, Nedarim, 31a-32b; Midrash Shemot Rabbah 5:8, and others). Despite this, all the Midrashim agree on the reason for the anger: Moses was negligent in the matter of circumcising his son – the sources disagree as whether this was Gershom his oldest or rather Eliezer – and as such he or his son were deserving of punishment. This explanation fits well with the continuation of the story: Tzippora solves the problem by circumcising her son and as a result: “So he let him go”. The words of the Midrash seem simple and reasonable as a purely technical commentary, but in the religious context, that of the relationship between Hashem and Moses, it raises certain serious questions: Taking into consideration the situation of Moses, was the sin of not circumcising his son really that serious? Indeed, the children of Israel wandered in the desert for 40 years uncircumcised, without hearing any criticism for this and without being punished, and only after they entered the land did Hashem give them the commandment of circumcision. Of this we find written in the Book of Joshua (5:2-8): “At that time Hashem said to Joshua, Make yourself stone knives, and circumcise again the children of Israel … but all the people that were born in the wilderness by the way as they came out of Egypt, had not been circumcised … them Joshua circumcised”.

Additionally, even if as a result of the Midrash we suppose that Moses was punished for negligence in performing the important commandment of circumcision, because he hastily left to fulfill Hashem’s command, would it not have been appropriate for him to have been spoken to directly, given some form of caution or warning before the punishment? In other words, the explanation of the Midrash evidently depicts a zealous and revengeful God. Are we to accept this approach of the Midrash as the only acceptable solution? It seems that we can offer a completely different solution, albeit slightly original and revolutionary, to this mysterious incident of the meeting at the inn. In order to do this we must look carefully at the hidden tensions between the characters of the forefathers, beginning with Abraham, and the character of Moses. This tension is expressed in a number of places and we will mention only a few of these, some which contrast the characters and some which emphasize more the similarities between them. Hashem reveals himself both to the forefathers and to Moses, but the revelation to Moses is described as being on a higher level: “And I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, by the name of God Almighty, but by my name Hashem was I not known to them” (Shemot 6:3). In the early stages of their lives, Moses and Jacob have a similar biography: both leave the land they were born in, migrate to a strange land, meet their future wives next to a well, there display their physical strength (Bereishit 29:2-11; Shemot 2:16-22) and return to their homeland after working for many years as shepherds. Abraham is told of the slavery in Egypt at the “Covenant between the Pieces” (Bereishit chapter 15) and the end of the slavery is revealed to Moses at the burning bush (Shemot chapter 3). In the biographies of Abraham and Moses, the Torah dedicates much space to the deliberations and arguments, a type of face to face dialogue, between them and Hashem, far more space then given to any other characters. Also, there is one religious incident, which seems unique to Abraham: the trial of the Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac). Is it really true that there is no other similar story in what is told of Moses?

If we return to the meeting at the inn, we find that it is written there: “And Moses took his wife and his sons and rode them on a donkey” (Shemot 4:20). This wording reminds us of the journey to the Akeida: “And Abraham woke up early in the morning and saddled his donkey and took two of his young men with him and Isaac his son” (Bereishit 22:3). The associative connection to the Akeida, in which we have a commandment to kill a son, is further strengthened in our parasha when Hashem says to Moses, immediately before the meeting at the inn: “And you shall say to Pharaoh, ‘This says the Hashem, Israel is my firstborn son and I say to you, Let my son go, that he may serve me: and if you refuse to let him go, behold, I will kill your firstborn son” (Shemot 4:22-23).

It seems we can offer an answer to the question of the meeting at the inn: Who asked who to kill who and why? It seems we can answer that at the basis of the words “wished to kill him” and at the basis of the whole story lies a demand from Hashem to Moses that he kill his son, similarly to what Abraham was commanded to do in the story of the Akeida. Tzippora quickly tries to find an alternative or an atonement offering and she cuts off the foreskin of her son, like the ram which is raised as a sacrifice instead of Isaac. Let us say, according to this interpretation, the Bible wishes to hide in our parasha, an ancient tradition of an Akeida type trial which Moses was also made to go through.

Why must Moses undergo a trial specifically at this moment, before he goes down to Egypt? It seems that we can offer an explanation to this. Hashem sends Moses on mission that involves endangering the lives of the Children of Israel. This mission to Pharaoh may be interpreted by the Egyptians as a rebellion and this could result in harsh punishment, which is what actually happened. If you are prepared to endanger the firstborn of Israel, because of your faith in me, says Hashem to Moses at the inn, let us first see if you are prepared to sacrifice you oldest son which you love.

It seems that after more than two thousand years of written commentary on the Bible, we still have not uncovered all its secrets and each generation is still permitted to and must, contend with the messages and traditions of the Bible, including those which are only very briefly hinted at.

Professor Shmuel Avigdor (Muli) Ben-Sasson
Department of Experimental Medicine and Cancer Research

Literature of the Sages – Midrash Shemot Rabbah

Our reading of the book of Bereishit was accompanied for most of the way by one of the greatest collections of homiletic tradition on Bereishit: Midrash Bereishit Rabbah. Now that we begin our study of the book of Shemot, it is logical that we regularly turn to Midrash Shemot Rabbah (for commentary on the term “Rabbah” see our commentary on Parashat Bereishit). Midrash Shemot Rabbah is made up of two completely separate parts: the first part (portions 1 – 15 [on the first 10 chapters of the Book of Shemot]) deals with the verses in order and brings for the majority of them, a large volume of wide ranging homiletical material and it does not seem that the editor had any criteria for selection, other than collecting as many homiletical traditions as possible. The second half of the Midrash (Chapters 15-52) deals only with selected verses from the Book of Shemot and it brings for each of them homiletical traditions focusing on specifically defined topics. The verses dealt with in this half of the Midrash were not chosen randomly; these are the first verses of the Torah reading portions according to the ancient custom of the Land of Israel whereby the Torah was read in a slow and flexible cycle of approximately three years. It is reasonable to suggest that preachers and teachers traditionally dealt mainly with the verse that opened the Torah reading and the editor of the Midrash collected as many as he could of these and compiled them into a single structure.

There is therefore a clear difference between the two halves of Midrash Shemot Rabbah with respect to their methods of collecting homiletical traditions, but there is also a noticeable difference in terms of language and even reliability of the sources they had available to them. On the basis of these and other facts, researchers theorize that the first half of Midrash Shemot Rabbah was written in the 9th century CE, while the second half precedes it and is generally dated in the 6th or 7th century. It is not clear who combined the two halves and when they did this.

We will bring only one example of the great wealth concealed in Midrash Shemot Rabbah. When the Midrash deals with what happened to Moses at the inn - “And it came to pass by the way at the inn, that Hashem met him, and wished to kill him” (Shemot 4:24) – it determines that it was the angel of Hashem who tried to kill Moses. (As an aside: “the angel of Hashem” is the wording used in the Greek Septuagint and in the translation of Onkelos the Aramean!) The angel did this because Moses, instead of circumcising his young son, Eliezer, first dealt with things relating to resting that night in the inn (Midrash Shemot Rabbah 5:8). The Midrash concludes by saying: “Circumcision is beloved as Moses our Teacher was not suspended for even an hour”, in other words – the punishment for the delay in performing the circumcision was not delayed for even an hours, but came rapidly and even Moses’ righteousness was of not avail to him at that time. In this way the importance of circumcision and the necessity not to even slightly delay its performance are emphasized, an emphasis that has great importance in times when there were decrees forbidding it or in times of Judeo-Christian controversy, since, as is known, Christianity abolished this commandment.

Custom – The Customs of Circumcision

Many different customs have become part of the circumcision ritual through the years, some common to all ethnic groups and some belonging specifically to one ethnic group. Here we will mention two of these: the custom of guarding over the newborn the night before the circumcision ceremony, a custom known to many Jewish communities, and the custom off the “wimple”, which was unique to German Jews.

(A) Evidence of a custom to not sleep on the night before the circumcision exists already from the 14th century. According to this evidence, it was customary to gather at the home of the mother, in order to protect the child from dangers awaiting him, such as harassment by Satan or other dangerous supernatural forces. R’ Aharon HaCohen, in his book “Orchot Chaim” (France, 14th century), describes the gatherings in the following words: “And on the eighth night [the night before the circumcision] in every place we play [musical instrument] and play games there”. The music and games mentioned had, it seems, a double purpose. On one hand, the Satan and other dangerous forces were frightened away from the mother and child by the noise; on the other hand it helped the family stay awake the whole night in order to guard over the baby. Through the ages, the character of this “Leil Shimurim” (Night of Guarding) changed. In the 17th century, in Ancona in Italy, for example, they tried to tone down the character of these celebrations by the ruling that refreshments would be served only to the women, but when it became apparent to the Rabbis after a few years that the community could not uphold this decree, the ruling was abolished. In the 18th century the Rabbi of the community in Rome, Rabbi Chaim Korkas, decided to prevent the eighth night celebration which he described with the words: “Everyone increases in praises and flirtatious songs and their faces are like flames, involved in frivolous things and jests, young lads and old men, women and children”. In order to do this R’ Korkas established a “Chabura”, a consistent group of people from the community whose intent was “to guard in the home of the young newborn boy in order to raise the joy of Torah”, in other words, to learn Torah in the home of the newborn in order to prevent the wild behavior. Rabbis serving in other cities in those times also worked to decrease the popularity of these folk superstitions and practices connected to the night before the circumcision. In order to do this they publicized various books in which they gathered stories from the Talmud or other words of Torah suitable to the concentration abilities of those who remained awake late into the night (“Divrei HaBrit” [Words of the Covenant] in Venice, “Shomer HaBrit” [Guardian of the Covenant] in Amsterdam). In this way Leil HaShimurim changed in character during the 18th century from a night of celebrations and performances to a night of Torah study. This custom is still kept today among certain groups.

(B) Another custom connected to circumcision appeared at the beginning of the 16th century in Germany. After the circumcision ceremony the women – the mother or another family member – would take the diaper which was used during the circumcision, wash it, cut it into strips and connect these together into one long strip. This strip was called the “wimple” (=headscarf). Onto this wimple they embroidered the name of the newborn, his date of birth and words of blessing, for example “may he grow to Torah, the marriage canopy and good deeds”. The decorated diaper would be brought to the synagogue the first time the child visited there, a month after his birth, at half a year old, at a year or five years, according to the unique custom of each congregation. The wimple was used in the synagogue as a cover for the Torah scroll. When the child reached the age of responsibility for keeping the commandments, they would wrap the Torah scroll that he read from, with the wimple made for him thirteen years previously. Thus the wimple emphasized the connection between the ceremony of circumcision, when the boy enters the world of Judaism, and the ceremony of Bar Mitzvah, where the boy accepts upon himself its commandments.