Divrei Beshalach
Good and Evil
The Targum Yonason (Shir HaShirim 1:1) tells us that there are ten shiros, or prophetic songs. We would expect them to express the most sublime glories of spirituality and holiness. However, the Midrash (Shmos Rabbah 23:11) tells us that nine deal (to differing extents) with the fall and destruction of the wicked. The tenth, which will be sung at the End of Days, will be on a different level.
HaRav Shimshon Dovid Pincus zt”l asks, “What is so important about the destruction of the wicked that we must sing about it? There is a Yiddish saying, he says, which is translated as “It’s not enough that he (the rasha) is dead; why must you dance upon his grave?” There is so much good in this world for us to sing about – why are we putting all that aside to focus on the defeat of evil? What’s more, the Zohar (Beshalach 54a) promises us that if we say Shiras HaYam, the Song at the Sea, every day with kavanah, we will merit to say it in Olam HaBa. What is it about Shiras HaYam that gives it such power?
He begins his answer with a foundational concept. Everything in the physical world – rock, plant, animal, and human – has within it a spiritual force. In the nonhuman world, these forces serve only to give existence and life; they are utterly under Hashem’s domain. Humanity, however, is given an extra dimension, which includes a choice between good and evil. That decision is not just between doing good versus doing evil, but being good versus being evil!
Yeshaya (54:7) declared, “[I, Hashem, am the One] Who forms light and creates darkness; Who makes peace and creates evil; I am Hashem, Maker of all these.” Rav Pincus explains this posuk to mean that evil is just as real a force in this world as good; it all comes from Hashem. By choosing good deeds over evil deeds, a person can ensure that he becomes by essence a good person. On the other hand, should a person choose the opposite path, he actually becomes an evil person. Not “deranged,” not “a victim of society.” Evil.
Rav Pincus then takes this idea a giant step further. No one lives in a vacuum, he says; a person’s nature and deeds have profound effects upon this world and those above it. A good person has actually made himself into a conduit for bringing good into this world. One classic example is Avraham, whose myriad acts of chesed empowered Michael, the malach of Klal Israel, who is an expression of chesed in the upper worlds. If Avraham had died young, chas v’shalom, the worlds would have never been brightened by his chesed and its beneficial effects. Michael would be much weakened or even dead, and the universe would have slumbered in a Sodom-like selfish darkness.
On the other hand, an evil person has made himself into a veritable pipeline for bringing evil into this world. Who is the classic example of such a rasha? Pharaoh. If somehow, Pharaoh had not been so evil, the worlds, then and now, would be a better place for all of us. We would be learning Torah on an even higher level than we do now, and our tefillos and our acts of chesed would have an even greater impact on today’s world.
Now we can understand why Hashem did not just force Pharaoh to simply issue an emancipation proclamation and neatly release Israel from slavery. Rather, He first destroyed the evil of Mitzrayim, in order that we could rise up to become His nation. Not only were the Mitzri’im actively influencing us to turn away from Hashem; the evil that their very existence had brought into the world was stunting our growth, dragging us down to the lowest spiritual levels. Therefore, when we “dance upon Pharaoh’s grave” by reciting the Shiras HaYam, we are also celebrating our own Torah, our own yiras shamayim, for when Pharaoh and his evil army were destroyed, the world was cleansed, and we were freed to ascend.
This concept tells us that Shiras HaYam is no mere commemoration of the days of old. Rather, it has everything to do with our world today. Our thoughtful recitation of Shiras HaYam effectively drives out modern-day Pharaohs and the evil they cause, thus making us capable to accomplish in spirituality and merit Olam Haba, which is all spiritual.
Rav Pincus also points out a seeming contradiction. If, according to Yeshaya, we are given this choice between good and evil, then why does he later say (60:21), “Your people will all be righteous”? Says Rav Pincus: this second posuk contains an incredible promise from Hashem. No member of the Jewish nation will ever be allowed to become a conduit for evil. True, some may do great evil, but at the roots of even the most encrusted neshama lies a good essence, which can be rejuvenated. Even the worst Jew can come back. Hashem’s hand is always open.
An Army of Marching Fools
Chazal tell us that Pharaoh’s army did not merely consist of six hundred charioteers. With a few words and promises, Pharaoh mobilized his nation into a massive posse, hot in pursuit of our ancestors. (Shmos14:6)
After their utter destruction and defeat in the Ten Makos, why did the Mitzri people still mindlessly follow their obviously misguided leader? Rav Shalom Meir Wallach brings a mashal of the Chofetz Chaim that not only answers this question, but also sheds light upon its modern counterpart, the “isms” phenomenon. How could billions of supposedly rational human beings be hoodwinked into such silly doctrines as communism, ultranationalism, and the like?
Their crude wagons laden with produce, a group of peasants from the same town traveled together to the regional fair. After several successful selling days, they turned their empty wagons back home.
On the way, they stopped at an inn. Their money was burning a hole in their pockets, so they spent the night eating, drinking, eating, drinking, drinking, drinking . . . . Finally, they all fell asleep.
Outside, a light snow began to fall. It covered the road, and then stopped. Early the next morning, one peasant woke up. Shaking off his hangover, he hitched his sleepy, half-blind nag to his wagon and took off. As his horse clumped along, the morning chill began to bother him, so he pulled out a bottle and gulped down the last dregs of the previous night’s party. The temporary warmth, the clopping of the horse’s hooves, and the rhythmic swaying of the wagon (not to mention last night’s goings-on in the inn) combined to put him in a stupor, and he fell asleep again, slumped in his wagon.
The horse, sensing that its master no longer controlled it, began to look around for grass to eat. It spied a green patch some distance off the road and veered over to get its breakfast.
Meanwhile, another peasant woke up. Groggily staggering outside, he noticed the snow. “Oh no!” he thought, “The road is covered! How will I stay upon it?” Glancing down, he noticed hoof prints and wagon-wheel marks. “Aha!” he noted, “Someone has already left. He must know the way! I’ll follow him!” Off he went. At the same place the first peasant left the road, so did he.
A third now came out, saw two sets of tracks, figured, “They must know the way!” and followed them. A fourth, a fifth . . . .
Soon, the peasants had formed a wide-strung parade, over hill and over dale. Each one – except for the first, who still snored away -- was sure that the ones in front of him knew where they were going.
After some time, the first peasant’s horse noticed that the green patch was much further away than he had thought. Peering through his one good eye, he changed course, still looking for food.
Some time later, the first peasant’s horse and wagon came to a stop, right in front of the very inn where the peasants had stayed the night. One by one, the others also arrived, having been led by a hungry old horse in a huge circle that led . . . nowhere.
Says the Chofetz Chaim: the message of this moshel is expressed through a posuk in Yirmiya (16:19): “To You nations will come from the ends of the earth and say, ‘Our ancestors inherited lies.’” The Radak there says that the nations will declare that they had received every one of their false doctrines as a mesorah, generation to generation, until it could be traced back to one ancient fool.