Spring Forward

The second half of this week’s Parsha deals mainly with Yetzias Mitzrayim itself, as well as the Mitzvos and Tzivuyim that were given to Klal Yisroel immediately after the Geulah. After the the Mitzvah of Pidyon Haben, “Kadesh Li Kol Bechor”, there is short Passuk that seems to stand on its own: “HaYom Atem Yotzim B’Chodesh HaAviv.” Following this Passuk the Torah continues to discuss Mitzvos, speaking about Korban Pesach.

The most basic question to ask when we learn this Passuk is why the Torah has to remind us when the Geulah took place, especially as the exact date is not even noted—the Torah just tells us it was “BaChodesh HaAviv.”

Rashi answers this question by explaining that Hashem wished to point out a Chesed that he did for Bnei Yisroel in taking them out during the spring when the weather is neither to hot nor too cold, and there is no rainfall. This shows the love that Hakadosh Baruch Hu has for us as not only took us out of Mitzrayim, but did so in a time that would be most comfortable.

While the words of Rashi explain why the Torah mentions the fact that we were taken from Mitzrayim in the Chodesh HaAviv, we still must understand why this Passuk stands alone. The Passuk before says “Zechor Es HaYom HaZeh Asher Yatzasem MiMitzrayim”, and the Chizkuni says that this Passuk, which speaks of the Chodesh HaAviv, is tied to the earlier one. However, it would seem that month in of Yetzias Mitzrayim could have been included in that Passuk—from the fact that these words are separated, it would seem that the Toah wished to highlight this fact. We must understand why this is the case.

In addition, it seems that these words were not said only to those who actually left Mitzrayim, thereby personally experiencing the Chesed highlighted by Rashi, but were meant for us all.

The very next Passuk speaks about the Mitzvah of Korban Pesach for all generations, as opposed to the original Tzivuy of Korban Pesach which applied only in Mitzrayim. The Torah again refers to “Hachodesh HaZeh”, which seems connected to the previous Passuk which tells us that “Hachodesh Hazeh” was in fact the “Chodesh HaAviv”—indicating that we are to remember the reality of Aviv as we celebrate Pesach each year as well.

In fact the entire concept of Aviv seems to hold great importance, as the Passuk in Sefer Devarim tells us “Shamor Es Chodesh HaAviv,” that we are to “guard” or maintain the month of Aviv. This is the source for the concept of a Shana Me’uberes, in which an additional month of Adar is inserted into the calendar. Because the Torah instructs us to maintain the celebration of Pesach during the spring, when it seems that Pesach will come out too “early”, due to the difference between the solar and lunar calendars, an extra month is added so that Pesach comes out later in the year. This entire concept is only because of the concept of Aviv.

While it may be the case that the Torah wished for us to always remember the Chesed that Hashem did for us when he took us out of Mitzrayim, it really does seem that there is perhaps a deeper meaning which compels such a emphasis on the Chodesh HaAviv.

This notion is perhaps reinforced by a metrological reality that is pointed out by R’ Zalman Sorotzkin, in his Sefer HaDeah V’Hadibur. While it is true that the month of Nissan, which is during the spring, is an especially comfortable time to travel, due to the mild weather, the same is true of the month of Tishrei, especially in a climate such as the Midbar. If the advantage of Chodesh HaAviv is merely the weather, the Geulah could have taken place in the fall as well. Rather, it would seem that there is a specific reason that the spring season itself was chosen.

In order to understand the meaning and importance of the Chodesh HaAviv, however, it may be prudent to first have a better understanding of the first words of the Passuk: “HaYom Atem Yotzim.”

If we think about it, if the purpose of the PAssuk is to tell us that Hashem took us out at a time that would be pleasurable and easy for travel, why doesn’t the Torah alude to the fact that Hashem took us out? The words “Atem Yotzim” place the emphasis on Bnei Yisroel leaving, rather than He who actually took us out. Why is the Passuk worded in this way.

R’ Sorotzkin, in that same Drasha, explains that this highlights the difference between our concept of Cheirus and that of every other nation in the world. Most nations celebrate their independence by marking the time when an invading or occupying force was vanquished. The United States, for example, celebrates their victory over the British who were forced to return to their own land. Bnei Yisroel, on the other hand, celebrate their freedom from Mitzrayim by marking the day that we left their land.

Thought we were not in a land of our own, but were an almost nomadic nation, traveling through a vast desert, we considered ourselves free because we had broken away from the ways of Mitzrayim. True Cheirus, explains R’ Sorotzkin, is when we separate ourselves from the Umos HaOlam and their ways, an achievement which is marked by “Yetziah”, leaving. Therefore, the Passuk places the stress on the fact that we left, that we removed ourselves from the Tumah of Mitzrayim, and not on the fact that we were set free “HaYom Atem Yotzim”, this is the day on which we achieved separation from Mitzrayim and all that it represented, by removing ourselves.

Based on this, maybe we can understand the remainder of the Passuk, and the general concept of Aviv.

Though the most common translation of the word “Aviv” is “spring”, there are in fact a number of other ways to understand this words that seem to point to a common thread.

Rabbeinu Bechaya points out that Pesach falls out during the barley harvest, and the shaft of a barley stalk is referred to as the “Aviv”. The root of this word, he explains, is “Av” or father, because the actual grains of wheat come from this part of the plant.

In addition, Targum Yonnasan, in Parshas Vayikra, renders the word Aviv as “Mihavhev”, which seems to come from the same word as LiHavhev, which means to flicker.

Though these two meanings of the word Aviv may seem unrelated, they are in fact closely connected: they both refer to potential.

The shaft of a barley stalk is not very useful in and of itself—it can be used as straw at best. But it is vital to the crop, as the grains themselves come forth from the shaft. Similarly, a flickering fire may be seen as dying out or on its way to being extinguished, but if it is fanned it can grow and become a healthy flame once again.

This may be the message the Torah was giving us as we left Mitzrayim, and each year as we learn this Passuk.

On that day we had indeed left Mitzrayim, we had removed ourselves from the abject Tumah that the land represented and on that level we could celebrate the Cheirus indicated by the words “Hayom Atem Yotzim.”

But, the reality was that we were ill prepared for this Cheirus. The years and decades of Shibud Mitzrayim had taken not only a physical toll, but a spiritual one as well. Even those who were Zoche to leave Mitzrayim, indicating a certain level of spiritual health, were in dire straits. As a nation we were on the precipice—we had descended to the forty-ninth level of Tumah, just moments away from the abyss. There may certainly have been a bit of trepidation about the transition that awaited us: could we in fact make the leap from Avdei Pharoah to Avdei Hashem?

The Torah therefore reminds us that we had left Mitzrayim at the perfect time: The Chodesh HaAviv, a month that speaks to potential and future growth. Though the flames of Ruchnias may have been flickering, we had to know that they could easily be fanned. Our stalk, now seemingly bare, was ripe for the growth of a true bounty of Zechusim. The Chesed that Hashem did by taking us from Mitzrayim was not just one of physical comfort—we were taken out in a month that is rooted in the confidence to achieve growth in Ruchnias as well.

The message to us is clear: “Shamor Es Chodesh HaAviv:” we must always remember the secret of the Aviv. Our entire calendar is contorted in order to ensure that we celebrate Pesach in the spring, for this was the first lesson taught to us when we left Mitzrayim: that we had the potential to grow beyond our wildest dreams. We don’t have to wait for the Yom Tov itself to approach—the lesson of “Chodesh HaAviv” is applicable each day. If we keep in mind the potential that lies in each of us even the darkest, coldest night, can turn into the perfect spring day.