עַתָּה שְׁלַח הָעֵז אֶת־מִקְנְךָ וְאֵת כׇּל־אֲשֶׁר לְךָ בַּשָּׂדֶה כׇּל־הָאָדָם וְהַבְּהֵמָה אֲשֶׁר־יִמָּצֵא בַשָּׂדֶה וְלֹא יֵאָסֵף הַבַּיְתָה וְיָרַד עֲלֵהֶם הַבָּרָד וָמֵתוּ׃
“Now, order your livestock and everything you have in the open brought under shelter; every man and beast that is found outside, not having been brought indoors, shall die when the hail (barad) comes down upon them!” (Shemos 9:19)
Zera Shimshon asks—based on the insights of mefarshim—about two specific plagues and the actions related to the animals. Firstly, why did Moshe command to bring the animals indoors before the plague of barad (hail), the seventh plague, and not before the plague of dever (epidemic), the fifth plague, considering that animals were affected in both instances?
Secondly, regarding the plague of shechin (boils) the Torah mentions animals being afflicted with boils, but this seems puzzling since during the earlier plague of dever, all the animals in the field were said to have died?! Rashi addresses this problem and explains that the animals affected by dever were those left in the field. Those brought indoors by individuals—who feared Hashem’s word—were spared from dever but were later afflicted with shechin. According to this, there is another question: If the Egyptians understood by themselves to shelter their animals from the plague of dever, why was it necessary for Moshe to specifically command them to do so before the plague of barad? Why wouldn’t they have done this by themselves, even without Moshe’s telling them?
These questions can be understood by first understanding two concepts:
The first concept is the Zohar’s interesting observation on the plagues of dever and barad. The Zohar points out something very interesting: dever and barad are spelled with the same letters—bais, daled and reish. The only difference between them is the order of the letters and the vais in the word “dever” turned into a beis in the word “barad.” The Zohar explains the reason for this is that dever, which is spelt with a “vais” and has softer sound than a “bais” implies that dever is milder than barad since the dever itself did not kill the wildlife, it only created a disease that made the animals sick and then they died by themselves. Barad, on the other hand, which is written with a “bais”—a harder sound, was a harsher plague in that it killed the animals directly and was also accompanied with loud noises. Since the Egyptians did not do teshuva after their animals were smitten mildly with dever, Hashem brought on them a more severe plague.
The second idea is from the Chovos Halevavos, who—when explaining the mitzvah of teshuva—writes that actions are motivated by perceived benefits. A person won’t do something if he doesn’t see some benefit in what he does. Thus, only after a person understands and believes that going through the teshuva process will bring positive outcomes, will he be willing to go through the whole teshuva process. If he doesn’t really believe that teshuva can help him and what he did cannot be healed, he will not go through the whole teshuva process.
This principle from Chovos Halevovos extends way beyond the context of teshuva. This can be seen in various aspects of life. For example, many people shy away from starting a fitness regime or a healthier diet if they doubt their ability to see it through or question the tangible benefits. Others might avoid pursuing a relationship—even if it seems like a promising shidduch—due to their thinking that the other individual will not be interested in them. And there are many people who don’t even go for a job interview because they are sure that they won’t be hired. People simply, “don’t plant in a field that won’t yield a harvest.”
Zera Shimshon explains that this is what happened in Mitzrayim. Concerning the dever plague, the Egyptians actively chose to bring their animals indoors, strongly believing that their actions would mitigate the effects of this comparatively mild plague. They had confidence that their intervention would be effective in protecting their livestock, so they did it. However, regarding the more intense barad plague, things were different. The Egyptians were reluctant to take similar action since they perceived any effort to safeguard their animals as pointless against such a severe and direct threat. This stark contrast in their attitudes necessitated Hashem’s instruction to Moshe—directing the Egyptians to shelter their animals—a directive they likely wouldn’t have followed on their own, due to their belief in its futility.
What has to still be understood is why did Hashem want to save the animals from destruction? It seems almost contradictory to the overarching objective of the plagues to bring about Egypt’s downfall. This irony is stark—the very act of guiding the Egyptians to save their livestock appears at odds with the intent of the plagues, which was to weaken and, ultimately, dismantle Egyptian power and resolve. Considering that the primary goal was the destruction of Mitzrayim, what was the reason behind this unexpected act of mercy and protection?
Zera Shimshon answers that saving the animals was not an act of chesed towards the Egyptians at all. On the contrary, the animals were saved in order to punish the Egyptians! Hashem wanted to make sure that the Egyptians would chase Bnei Yisroel when they crossed the Yam Suf, in order that the Egyptians warriors would drown. If the Egyptians did not have animals, they could not chase Bnei Yisroel and they wouldn’t have received the punishment they deserved. Paradoxically, the chesed towards the animals was really a punishment for the Egyptians!
Zera Shimshon’s insight—that Hashem’s guidance to the Egyptians to protect their animals was a prelude to their punishment at Yam Suf—aligns with the saying, “A puzzle in progress isn’t the picture.” This teaches us a profound lesson about life’s challenges and our perceptions. Often, we may encounter situations that seem negative or confusing—akin to a half-completed puzzle. However, just as a partially completed puzzle doesn’t reveal the full image, our immediate circumstances may not reflect the ultimate outcome or purpose. Internalizing this perspective can profoundly impact our lives, teaching us the value of patience in judging and trust in the face of adversity. Recognizing that every moment—whether seemingly good or bad—is part of a larger, divine plan can transform our approach to life’s trials, leading us to a deeper understanding and acceptance of our journeys.
(Adapted from parshas Vaera, derush 15)
This week’s dvar Torah is being sponsored in honor of the yahrtzeit of Rabbi Mordechai Zalman ben Baruch (28 Teves) by his son, Aharon. In the merit of people learning the divrei Torah of Zera Shimshon, his neshama should have an aliyah and he should merit to have a lichtige Gan Eden.
