Post by Akiva on Apr 1, 2010 15:38:24 GMT -5
Near the beginning of Maggid, just after detailing how our ancestors were idol worshippers and Yaakov and his children came to Egypt, we make what appears to be a digression from the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim in order to thank God for keeping a promise to Avraham:
Two questions spring immediately to mind. First, what is this doing in the middle of the Haggadah? Sure, it's great that God kept his promise, but this is the first night of Pesach, when we're supposed to be engaged in Sippur Yetziat Mitzrayim. And yes, the event being referenced in the above verses is the Jews going down to Egypt, suffering, and leaving . . . but is this really the best way to engage in Sippur?
Second, what is the promise that we are thanking God for keeping? Is it that we left Egypt with great wealth? If so, why bother mentioning the first verse (that we would be enslaved)? More fundamentally, why is this being brought up now? If we were thanking God for taking us out with great wealth, then it would be more appropriate for us to finish telling the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim, and then, when we get up to discussing how we left Egypt, we could say "thank you, God, for keeping your promise." Instead, we say it now, immediately after reciting that Yaakov and family went down to Egypt. Why now?
I think the second question can only be answered by saying that we are also thanking God for keeping the promise in the first verse, not just the second - that is, not only the promise that we would leave with great wealth, but the promise that we would be strangers in a land not our own, and would be oppressed and enslaved in the first place. That explains why the first verse is mentioned (it's the relevant promise) and why we this is mentioned now (after a discussion of our descent to Egypt) rather than later (after a discussion of our ascent from Egypt) - because the promise was mainly about the descent, not the ascent.
Of course, this leaves the obvious question - why are we thanking God for this?
I think the answer to that question can be found in Lech Lecha, where God makes the promise in the first place. How does the promise come about?
Towards the end of Lech Lecha, just before the Bris Bain Hab'sarim, God tells Avraham that he will have a multitude of descendants, and that he will inherit Eretz Yisrael - promises that it seems God has made before. But this time, Avraham's reaction is strange. "How," he asks, "will I know that I will inherit it?"
And it is to that question that God responds "you shall know that your children will be strangers . . ." - a seeming non-sequitur.
Perhaps what the Ba'al Hahagadda is pointing us toward is this understanding of the exchange between Avraham and God:
For the first time, God tells Avraham that the land will be an "inheritence" for him. In the past, God said only that Avraham's children would possess the land - i.e. that his descendants would have ownership of the land. But the promise that the descendant's would hold the land as an inheritance from Avraham implies something more - that they would self-identify as "children of Avraham", and recognize their societal control over the land as a consequence of that identification.
And that isn't a normal thing. Go far enough down the generations, and many people of Abraham's time probably have innumerable descendants. But they don't all identify as "children of" that ancestor - in fact, most would never consider themselves relatives, despite the common ancestor. Think about it - how many of us consider ourselves the family of our great great grandparents? Our parents, obviously. Grandparents, typically. Rarely, people will feel a connection to great-grandparents. But 4 generations back? There's no connection.
And that, perhaps, is what triggered Avraham's question. Not "how will I know my descendants will possess the land", but "how can I know that my descendants will define themselves by their descent from me, so that the land could be called an 'inheritance' from me"? How will that be possible?
And to that, God answers: you shall surely know that they will descend to slavery . . .
They will experience a national trauma, a crucible that will forge them into a nation - they will be strangers in another land for generations, oppressed, forced to turn to each other rather than dispersing in all directions. And that is how it will be possible that Avraham's myriad descendants will, down through the generations, trace their lineage to him.
Which brings us back to the Haggada - here, as we tell of our descent into Egypt, we thank God for keeping his promise to Avraham that he would use the slavery as the crucible to forge us into a nation, which is what allows us to function as an Am Kadosh.
| Baruch shomer havtachaso l'yisrael, baruch hu . . . Blessed is He who keeps His promise to Israel, blessed be He! For the Holy One, blessed be He, thought out the end, in order to do as He had said to our father Abraham at the "Covenant between the Portions," as it is said: "And He said to Abraham, `You shall know that your seed will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, and they will enslave them and make them suffer, for four hundred years. And also, I will judge the nation whom they shall serve, and after that they will come out with great wealth.'" |
Two questions spring immediately to mind. First, what is this doing in the middle of the Haggadah? Sure, it's great that God kept his promise, but this is the first night of Pesach, when we're supposed to be engaged in Sippur Yetziat Mitzrayim. And yes, the event being referenced in the above verses is the Jews going down to Egypt, suffering, and leaving . . . but is this really the best way to engage in Sippur?
Second, what is the promise that we are thanking God for keeping? Is it that we left Egypt with great wealth? If so, why bother mentioning the first verse (that we would be enslaved)? More fundamentally, why is this being brought up now? If we were thanking God for taking us out with great wealth, then it would be more appropriate for us to finish telling the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim, and then, when we get up to discussing how we left Egypt, we could say "thank you, God, for keeping your promise." Instead, we say it now, immediately after reciting that Yaakov and family went down to Egypt. Why now?
I think the second question can only be answered by saying that we are also thanking God for keeping the promise in the first verse, not just the second - that is, not only the promise that we would leave with great wealth, but the promise that we would be strangers in a land not our own, and would be oppressed and enslaved in the first place. That explains why the first verse is mentioned (it's the relevant promise) and why we this is mentioned now (after a discussion of our descent to Egypt) rather than later (after a discussion of our ascent from Egypt) - because the promise was mainly about the descent, not the ascent.
Of course, this leaves the obvious question - why are we thanking God for this?
I think the answer to that question can be found in Lech Lecha, where God makes the promise in the first place. How does the promise come about?
Towards the end of Lech Lecha, just before the Bris Bain Hab'sarim, God tells Avraham that he will have a multitude of descendants, and that he will inherit Eretz Yisrael - promises that it seems God has made before. But this time, Avraham's reaction is strange. "How," he asks, "will I know that I will inherit it?"
And it is to that question that God responds "you shall know that your children will be strangers . . ." - a seeming non-sequitur.
Perhaps what the Ba'al Hahagadda is pointing us toward is this understanding of the exchange between Avraham and God:
For the first time, God tells Avraham that the land will be an "inheritence" for him. In the past, God said only that Avraham's children would possess the land - i.e. that his descendants would have ownership of the land. But the promise that the descendant's would hold the land as an inheritance from Avraham implies something more - that they would self-identify as "children of Avraham", and recognize their societal control over the land as a consequence of that identification.
And that isn't a normal thing. Go far enough down the generations, and many people of Abraham's time probably have innumerable descendants. But they don't all identify as "children of" that ancestor - in fact, most would never consider themselves relatives, despite the common ancestor. Think about it - how many of us consider ourselves the family of our great great grandparents? Our parents, obviously. Grandparents, typically. Rarely, people will feel a connection to great-grandparents. But 4 generations back? There's no connection.
And that, perhaps, is what triggered Avraham's question. Not "how will I know my descendants will possess the land", but "how can I know that my descendants will define themselves by their descent from me, so that the land could be called an 'inheritance' from me"? How will that be possible?
And to that, God answers: you shall surely know that they will descend to slavery . . .
They will experience a national trauma, a crucible that will forge them into a nation - they will be strangers in another land for generations, oppressed, forced to turn to each other rather than dispersing in all directions. And that is how it will be possible that Avraham's myriad descendants will, down through the generations, trace their lineage to him.
Which brings us back to the Haggada - here, as we tell of our descent into Egypt, we thank God for keeping his promise to Avraham that he would use the slavery as the crucible to forge us into a nation, which is what allows us to function as an Am Kadosh.
