the cedars of Lebanon or any other high place in order to teach the value of humility.

While each of these multiple, divergent explana-tions are interesting, it can be instructive to consider them with the contrast of Har Sinai in mind. We know that Har Sinai and the Sneh are connected to one another in a variety of places. [For example, see Sotah 5a, Sifra Nedava 1:2-3, Shemos Rabbah 2:5, Bemidbar Rabbah, Bem. 1:3, etc.] And this connection is for good reason! These are the two pri-mary revelations of Hashem that Moshe experiences, both involving fire. And not only that, but the names of the two locations – Sneh and Sinai – are very similar! It is no won-der, then, that they are might be connected to one another. For our purposes, some of the approaches above offer ways in which the Sneh and Har Sinai might be similar to one an-other, and some offer possible differences. The approaches that relate to the suffering and Galus of Am Yisrael would seem inapplicable to Har Sinai, which takes place once Am Yisrael has left Galus and has risen from their low level of Tumah. In that case, we can see Har Sinai as the foil to the Sneh – they are similar in that both are sources for Hashem’s revelation, but Har Sinai is a much higher, more majestic locus of revelation, which is appropriate given Am Yisrael’s Teshuva and the end of their suffering! On the other hand, the theme about Hashem choosing a lowly place for revelation out of humility certainly can be extended to Har Sinai. The Gemara in Sotah 5a makes just this point, saying that we should learn humility from Hashem, given the choice of the lowly Har Sinai. The concern about Avo-dah Zarah is also relevant – see Bereshis Rabbah, Vayechi 100, which says that Har Sinai was chosen because it was the only mountain that had not had Avodah Zarah wor-shiped on it previously (similar but not identical to the con-cern with the Sneh). Whether Har Sinai is a similar phe-nomenon to the Sneh or whether it diverges in significant ways, these Midrashim draw an important connection be-tween the two major revelations of Hashem to Moshe. May we be Zoche to internalize all of the messages of this won-derful Midrash!

The Importance of the Seneh Rabbi Shlomo Zuckier

(MTA ‘04, YC ‘11, RIETS ‘14) Associate Rabbi- Joseph Slifka Center for Jewish Life at Yale What does Hashem choose the Sneh, of all places, to self-reveal to Moshe? Why not select some other tree, or a different inanimate object, for that important revelation to Moshe that sets the Geulah in order? Mechilta deRashbi, in its very first discussion, of-fers several answers to this question. 1. Rashbi-The Sneh symbolizes the Galus of Bnei Yisrael in Egypt. Just like a bird cannot pass through a Sneh with-out getting severely damaged, Am Yisrael suffered greatly in its Galus in Egypt.

2. R’ Eliezer- The lowly Sneh symbolizes the low spiritual level to which Am Yisrael had descended while they were in Mitzrayim. Hashem therefore needs to descend to the Sneh, a first symbolic step for extricating them from this meager state.

3. R’ Yehoshua- Hashem chooses the lowly Sneh, as op-posed to speaking to Moshe from a more significant tree, or even from Shamayim, in order to demonstrate an important principle. Whenever Am Yisrael is in Galus, Hashem joins them, kavayachol, the Shechina descending into Galuy Mitz-rayim along with them. Thus, Hashem chooses the Sneh for self-revelation to Moshe, in order to indicate that, as Am Yisrael were suffering, Hashem was kavayachol in a compro-mised position, as well.

4. R’ Yose HaGelili- Since the Sneh is Tahor (presumably because it is Mechubar liKarka) it is impossible to be made into a worshiped Avodah Zarah item. Given the concern that people would worship this place of revelation, Hashem chose the Sneh, which could not become Tamei in that way.

5. R’ Elazar ben Arach [as understood by the Torah Shlei-mah]- Hashem specifically chose a short Sneh rather than

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The Burning Message of the Sineh

Dovid Tanner (‘18) וירא מלאך יקוק אליו בלבת אש מתוך הסנה וירא

והנה הסנה בער באש והסנה איננו אכל “And an angel of Hashem appeared to [Moshe] in a flame of fire from within the thorn bush, and behold! The thorn bush was burning with fire, but [it] was not being consumed.” (Exodus 3:2) Moshe’s first nivuah is famously given through the sineh, the imperishable bush. What is the significance of this image - why a burning bush?

Rashi quotes the Midrash Tanchuma which explains the import of the bush. Hashem wanted to show Moshe that He was with kilalyisrael in this hard time—“imo anochi bitsara”. This is why the passuk says Hashem called to Moshe “mitokh hasineh,” from within the prickly thorn bush that symbolizes our troubles. However there still is an unanswered question; why is the bush not con-sumed by flame?

Another answer to our original question is the fire symbolizes the fire of Torah. Many note the etymological similarity between the words “sineh” and “sinai”. They quote a midrash which equates the burning bush with the fire ac-companying the giving of the Aseres Hadibros on Har Sinai. According to this interpretation, Hashem is alluding to the future when kilal yisrael will become fulfilled as a nation obligated in the Torah. To explain why the bush is not con-sumed, however, we must look elsewhere.

The Rav Thinking Aloud on the Parshah quotes Rav Soloveitchik noting two miraculous aspects to the sineh, and a message we can learn from each. First, the passuk says re-garding the sineh “einenu ukol”, it was not being consumed – though the fire burned, no ash was produced and the bush remained intact. In the next passuk, Moshe was amazed be-cause “lo yivar hasineh.” “Yivar” is in pael form, not nifal; this indicates that the meaning is not simply that the bush was not consumed – but the bush was not doing the act of bier, or burning. Through this understanding, the second verse is not a reiteration of the first, rather a new phenome-non: The sineh is not catching fire at all! There was a fire in the center, but the bush itself did not catch fire. The fire did not spread, and this was an additional miracle.

The Rav explained the messages from these two nissim as follows. The bush symbolizes kilal yisrael. The fact the bush was not destroyed by the fire is Hashem’s promise – the Jewish People will forever live on and not be destroyed. The second aspect, that the fire burned only in the center of the bush but did not spread to its outer edges, was representing the personality of a Jew. Just as the thorn bush looks unaffected on the outside even though the inside is on fire, is also how a Jew may have a “cold and uninspired

demeanor,” but he always has “warmth, sensitivity, and love” hidden in his heart. In other words, the unobservant Jew looks like a plain thorn bush, but if one were to dig a little deeper, in the very center there is a fire burning that never goes out.

Rav Soloveitchik continues to note how it is wrong to exclude any Jew, even if he has a emotionless exterior as mentioned previously. Precisely because we know what lies in the center, we cannot isolate ourselves and give up on the unobservant Jew. Even though we cannot embrace his lifestyle, we must welcome him in hope of uncovering the beauty that lies within. Hashem needed to tell Moshe this message, not just so we could learn from it, but also to assure Moshe there is always warmth in kilal yisrael even after he saw the ugly sight of two Jews fighting.

One final explanation of the sineh discusses the dual nature of fire. Fire is destructive and dangerous, but it simultaneously radiates light and warmth with which can comfort people and use for cooking and other needs. We too sometimes feel the burning heat of exile and Hashem’s anger; we should focus on the dual nature of these flames. Unfortunately we can get burned sometimes, but we must also see the warmth, the “imo anochi bitsara.” May we merit the warmth radiating from Hashem’s presence and escape the destructive conflagration of exile with the building of the beis hamikdash.

Great Power Need Not Come from Great Responsibility

Ari Englander (‘ 17) In this week’s parsha, the Torah says:

לוי מבית איש וילך ויקח בת את לוי

“and a man went from the House of Levi, and he took a daughter of Levi.” The Gemara in Sotah (12b) explains that upon hearing Pharaoh’s decree to have all newborn males killed, Amram sent away his wife. In turn, because he was the leader of the generation, the rest of Bnei Yisrael followed in his example. However, his daughter Miria) pointed out to him that he was being more destructive than Pharaoh’s decree. Pharaoh was killing all of the boys, yet, by choos-ing to separate from his wife, he was preventing both boys and girls from being born. Therefore, the passuk states that Amram “went” and “took” his wife back. The Ramban, quoting the Ibn Ezra, says that Bnei Yisrael lived in many cities throughout Mitzreim, and

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Yocheved was in a different city than Amram, so he “went”—he physically walked—to her city to marry her. The Ramban then goes on to reject this pshat because this interpretation assumes that this side point was necessary for the passuk to mention, a diffuclt argument to make. this side point. The Ramban offers a different explanation, the lan-guage “he went,” is telling us that Amram did not concern himself with Pharaoh’s decree and he defiantly took a wife for himself and fathered children. The Ramban adds that whenever someone does something unique or exceptional, for example, the episode of Reuven moving his father’s bed, the language of “he went” is used. Another difficulty the Ramban poses is why the passuk does not identify the “man” or “daughter of Levi.” He answers that if the passuk were to mention Am-ram and Yocheved, it would have had to list their lineage up to Levi, and the Torah wanted to be brief. Perhaps, another reason why the passuk referred to Amram as “man” was to teach us an important lesson. The Torah is teaching us that greatness can come from any-where, that is, you don’t have to be the Amram, the Gadol Hador of your generation to produce a Moshe Rabbeinu. Nor do you have to originate from such heights to become a Moshe Rabbeinu. Rather, if you put in the effort and the dedication, you can achieve greatness from a simple “man.”

Shemot: Acquiring Ones Name Ben Tzion Zuckier (‘17)

In parshat Shemot, the Torah recounts the story of

Moshe killing and burying an Egyptian he witnessed strike a Jew. The next day, when attempting to interrupt the quar-rel between two Israelites, identified by Chazal as Datan and Aviram, Moshe is rebuffed with a toxic comment. He is told that since he killed an Egyptian, they do not need to heed his word. After Moshe heard they knew his actions and were going to inform the Pharaoh, he said "achein noda hadavar, behold the matter is known. (Exodus 2:14)" Rashi comments on the word "matter," and explains this to be the reason Bnei Yisrael were in galut in Egypt to begin with. Moshe realized the two aveirot responsible for the exile were quarreling and speaking slander – the two sins Datan and Aviram were en-gaged in.

The Chofetz Chaim in his work Shemirat Ha-lashon states that the opposite of the mitzvah of limud Torah is the sin of lashon hara. He explains that lashon hara is so severe because the tongue, an instrument for speaking

words of Torah, is used to speak negatively about another Jew.

However, there is still a very troubling quandary at hand – why was Moshe permitted to slay the Egyptian task-master? Moshe ostensibly acted in a very rash and anger filled way, striking down another human in cold blood; how could it be that the leader-to-be of the Jewish nation was such a seemingly horrid individual? In order to properly understand this dilemma, we must first insert ourselves into the life and situation of Moshe. He was brought up as an Egyptian prince in the house of the Pharaoh, yet was a Jew by birth. By the burn-ing bush Moshe asks himself the very profound existential question of “mi anokhi, who am I? (Exodus 3:11)” He was troubled by the duality and dichotomy within his personal-ity. Was he a favored Son of Egypt, or a hated Hebrew slave? Directly before he smote the Egyptian the Torah re-lates that “vayifen ko vokho, vayar ki ein ish, and he looked this way and that way and he saw there was no man. (Exodus 2:12)” The simple interpretation relates how Moshe checked for witnesses and when he found none, he killed the man, a common venture for any delinquent. However, Rabbi Mark Gottlieb relates a much deeper meaning. Moshe realized he was not a man. He was a con-flicted individual who stood for nothing in particular and thus decided to take a stand – he struck down the Egyptian who harassed the Israelite.

The deep empathy Moshe felt for his nation while witnessing this violent act created a deep connection which allowed him to achieve a clarity of self that eluded him until now. When he acted for what he felt was correct, two things happened simultaneously. Physically, he placed him-self against the Throne of Egypt, and spiritually, he slayed the Egyptian prince – “vayakh et haMitzri, and he smote the Egyptian. (Ibid)” He destroyed the Mitzri within himself, submerg-ing that part of his dual identity and forging himself as a Hebrew – preparing himself for his prophetic calling to emancipate his true brethren. May we all be zoche to internalize the message of this story and find within ourselves the strength to deflect from social mores and take a stand for what we feel is cor-rect. Additionally, we should all distance ourselves from the sins of Datan and Aviran and cease harmful speech and quar-rels, the aveirot which place us in exile. Through this, may we be able to escape our current exile and rebuild the Beit Hamikdash in a timely fashion.

שבת שלום!