Do we see the Vision?

We are again delighted to host a perceptive and provocative devar Torah on the week's parsha from Rabbi Paul Bloom. Thanks, Paul, for all your efforts--and for remembering us.

This devar Torah discusses an often-overlooked element of the Pesach Seder—the fifth cup of wine—and the profound lessons it holds for our lives. Our Sages teach us that the four cups of wine correspond to the four “expressions of redemption” found in Sefer Shemot (Exodus):

'לָכֵן אֱמֹר לְבָנֵי־ישְׂרָאֵל אֲנִי ה וְהוֹצֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם מִתַּחַת סַבְלת מִצְרִים וְהַצַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מַעֲבֹדָתָם וְגאַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בַּזְרוֹע נְטוּיָה וּבַשְׁפָטִים גדלים וְלָקַחְתִּי אֶתְכֶם לִי לְעָם וְהָייתי לָכֶם לָאלֹהִים וְיִדַעְתָּם כִּי אֲנִי ה' אֱלֹהֵיכֶם הַמוֹצִיא אֶתְכֶם מִתָּחַת סְבְלוֹת מִצְרִים

1. “I will take you out from under the burdens of Egypt,”
2. “I will save you from their bondage,”
3. “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and great judgments,”
4. “I will take you to Me as a people, and I will be your God.”

These four stages mark a transformative process—from physical liberation to spiritual redemption. Yet our tradition also alludes to a fifth expression, a culmination of the journey: entering the Promised Land and achieving our full potential as Hashem’s nation.

וְהֵבֵאתִ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֤ר נָשָׂ֙אתִי֙ אֶת־יָדִ֔י לָתֵ֣ת אֹתָ֔הּ לְאַבְרָהָ֥ם לְיִצְחָ֖ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֑ב וְנָתַתִּ֨י אֹתָ֥הּ לָכֶ֛ם מוֹרָשָׁ֖ה אֲנִ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃

I will bring you into the land which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I Hashem.”

וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר מֹשֶׁ֛ה כֵּ֖ן אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וְלֹ֤א שָֽׁמְעוּ֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה מִקֹּ֣צֶר ר֔וּחַ וּמֵעֲבֹדָ֖ה קָשָֽׁה׃

But when Moses told this to the Israelites, they would not listen to Moses, their spirits crushed by cruel bondage.

The question that the Commentators ask is what does, מִקֹּ֣צֶר ר֔וּחַ, shortness of spirit mean? The Ramban teaches that their inability to listen was not due to a lack of faith. They believed, but they were utterly exhausted—physically and spiritually crushed under the weight of slavery. The Midrash takes this further, explaining that Bnei Yisrael were so immersed in the culture of Mitzrayim—its paganism, its worldview—that they couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of Moshe’s message.

This is not just an ancient story; it’s a mirror for our lives today. Just as Bnei Yisrael struggled to reframe their identity and rise above their circumstances, we too often find ourselves trapped in modern forms of galut. Immersed in the distractions of secularism, materialism, and the relentless demands of daily life, we can lose sight of the spiritual messages calling to us.

A Wake-Up Call: The Ten Plagues

The ten plagues were not merely punishments for Egypt; they were a shock to awaken Bnei Yisrael. Each plague shattered illusions of Egypt’s supremacy, revealing Hashem’s power and presence. This was a necessary process to free not only their bodies but also their minds and souls from the “shortness of spirit” that clouded their vision. We, too, need moments that pull us out of the relentless cycle of work and worry. Without these interruptions, we risk losing perspective, becoming so consumed by immediate concerns that we neglect what truly matters.

Stephen Covey, in his famous book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, illustrates this with the metaphor of sharpening the saw. A man sawing tirelessly through a tree is told to pause and sharpen his saw, to which he replies, “I’m too busy sawing to stop.” This captures a profound truth: relentless activity without reflection leads to burnout and inefficiency.

Shabbat is one of our antidotes to this “shortness of spirit.” It is the time we step off the treadmill, reconnect with our inner selves, our families, and our Creator. On Shabbat, we pause to hear the voices of our loved ones, to study Torah, and to reflect on our purpose. It is in these moments of stillness that we regain clarity and strength.

The Fifth Expression: Choice and Destiny

The Sforno and Or HaChaim offer a fascinating insight into the fifth expression of redemption. They note that the first four stages of geulah were gifts from Hashem—unconditional and imposed upon Bnei Yisrael, primarily because B'nai Israel did not want to leave Egypt. The fifth stage, however, required their active choice. Entering the Promised Land, building a holy nation, and living with emunah were predicated on their willingness to rise to the challenge. And in fact, mo-one (except Joshua and Calev) who was over the age of 20 at the time they left Egypt ever entered Israel because of the Sin of the Spies.

This duality—between the gifts we are given and the choices we make—is central to our lives. Hashem bestows upon us countless blessings: our families, talents, and opportunities. But how we use these gifts—whether we dedicate them to a higher purpose or squander them—is up to us.

Lessons for Today

The story of Bnei Yisrael’s redemption is not just a historical narrative; it is a timeless message about human nature. Like our ancestors, we often become so overwhelmed by the “urgent”—the daily demands and challenges—that we lose sight of the “important.” If you ask a struggling businessman about his five-year vision, he might respond, “I’m just trying to get through this week!” This mindset is natural, but it is also limiting. True growth requires stepping back, refocusing, and embracing the larger vision.

Do the Jews of the Diaspora face similar challenges to those of Bnei Yisrael in Egypt? Are they caught up in the urgent while ignoring the important? Have they grown too comfortable with the materialism of the Diaspora, losing sight of Hashem’s vision for kibbutz galuyot (the ingathering of exiles) and returning to Israel? Will the miracles of the past 15 months serve as a wake-up call?

The fifth cup reminds us that, while Hashem provides the foundation, it is up to us to build upon it. It challenges us to differentiate between the wheat and the chaff, the urgent and the important, and to align our lives with the divine vision.

A Blessing

As we reflect on this parsha, may we find the strength to rise above the distractions and burdens that weigh us down. May we pause to sharpen the saw, to listen to the voices of Torah and those around us, and to embrace our role as Hashem’s partners in building a better world. Let us see the vision Hashem has given us and follow it with clarity and purpose.

Walking together: Vayeira 5785

 One of the more salient lessons that we derive from this week's Torah reading regarding Abraham and Isaac is the emphasis that the Torah places on the fact that they ascended the mountain of Moriah together. This is because continuity, the bond between generations, has been the hallmark of Jewish life throughout its long history. 

Every generation differs in many aspects from the generation that preceded it—and this is especially true regarding the generations of Jews who have lived over the past few centuries. Scientific discoveries, enormous social changes, technology and communication that was previously unimaginable, plus an entirely different set of social and economic values, have transformed the Jewish world in a radical fashion. It is much more difficult, if not sometimes impossible, for parents and children to walk together towards a common goal. 

The secularization of much of Eastern-European Jewry during the 19th and 20th centuries testifies to this fact. Even though different generations will always see matters in a different light, there has perhaps never been such a radical and almost dysfunctional separation of generations as we have undergone during this period. 

It is basically true that the generation of the 20^th Century also wanted to climb the mountain of Moriah, but they did not want to do so in the company of their elders. In discarding the preceding generation, its teachings and way of life, the new generation ascended many mountains, but they never climbed the right one. And much of Jewry today is stranded on strange peaks and at dangerous heights. 

The challenge of the continuity across thegenerations is an enormous one. No matter how hard each family may try, not one has a guarantee of 100% success in maintaining the great chain of Jewish tradition. In fact, in my opinion, the challenge and task of today's generation, to somehow remain connected and to retain their values and purpose in life, is far greater than when I was a child. 

Being able to walk together, facing the enormous challenges of modern life, is a rare blessing in our time. It is not merely a matter of education, of finding the right schools and raising children in a positive environment: it is even more importantly the development of familial pride, with its warmth and love that are important and necessary to achieve the goal of generational continuity. 

There is no magic bullet, no one-size-fits-all solution to this type of challenge. There is a famous metaphor attributed to one of the great Eastern European rabbis who said that we are all but ships traversing the sea to arrive at our final destinations. Every ship leaves a wake in its passing to mark where the safe passage exists. However, that wake soon disappears and every ship must make its own way across the sea of life. The same is true about binding the generations together. The attempt to do so must be constant and one should never despair. It can be achieved. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein