Shemos - פרק ח׳

Kapital 8 begins with the words “Lamenatzeach Al HaGitis Mizmor L’Dovid” and is one of only three Perakim that are meant to be played on the instrument called the “Gitis”. Rashi explains that it was so called because it was made in “Gat”, where specifically talented craftsmen were found. As Radak explains at the beginning of Sefer Tehillim, when a Mizmor is said to have been composed for a particular Kli Zemer, it is because that instrument is particularly fitting to the message and meaning of the Perek. This indicates that this Perek is in some way represented by the Gitis, which comes from Gat.

Perhaps we can find this connection based on a Medrash Shochar Tov on the previous Perek: “Lamenatzeach Al HaGitis Zu Edom”. Rashi here cites the Medrash and explains that in Acharis HaYamim we will crush Edom much as a grape is crushed in the Gat, or wine press, and so Chazal connected this word, Gitis, to Edom. The overall theme of this Perek, as noted by Radak, is Shevach V’Hodaah to HKBH, but based on the Medrash and the explanation of Rashi, we can understand that these are the Shevachim that will be said L’Asid Lavo once Edom is crushed.

The Mizmor itself is written in very plain language, with overt expressions of Shevach: “Hashem Adonenu Mah Adir Shimcha B’Chol HaAretz”. Rashi explains that here we acknowledge that the Kochos of HKBH are greater than mere mortals can comprehend, and that the Shechina really belongs in Shamayim because we are not worthy of Hashra’as Hashechina in our midst. Nonetheless, “M’Pi Olilim V’Yonkim Yosadeta Oz”, HKBH rests his Shechina amongst us. Metzudos explains that the term “M’Pi Olilim V’Yonkim” refers to our feeble nature: our only inborn ability is the pursuit of our physical wellbeing. This highlights the Chesed involved in the Hashras HaShechina in the Mikdash.

The Perek continues, speaking about the ways in which we can recognize the greatness of Hashem: “Ki Ereh Shamecha Ma’aseh Etzbosecha Yarach V’Kochavim Asher Konanta.” The physical world, created by HKBH, is the greatest example of his Kochos and Gevuah. When we behold these sights, it brings to mind the ultimate truth: “Mah Enosh Ki Tzikerenu U’Ben Adam Ki Tifkidenu”. As Radak explains, these words are the counterpoint to the words with which the Perek began: “Mah Adir Shimcha B’Chol HaAretz”. We recognize our relative insignificance in comparison to HKBH or even the Tzeva Hashamayim, and offer our Shevach v’Hodaah that HKBH wishes to relate to us nonetheless.

The remainder of the Perek follows this thread, speaking about the role HKBH has crafted for mankind upon this earth, giving us control upon the animal kingdom: “Tzona V’Alafim Kulam V’Gam Bahamos Sadai”, as well as the creatures of the sky and water, “Tzipor Shamayim U’Digei Hayam”. Radak explains that while it might be expected that man has control over the beasts of the land, upon which he lives, the additional Shlita over birds and fish, which dwell in their spheres, is yet another example of the Chesed with which HKBH treats us.

The Perek concludes as it began, reminding us that despite our Shlita over the physical world, there is an ultimate Sholet: “Hashem Adoneinu Mah Adir Simcha B’Chol HaAretz”.

As we have seen, this Perek is one of dichotomy: we recognize that man is relatively insignificant as compared to the greatness of HKBH, and at the same time we speak about the outsized role that humans play in this world, by the grace of Hashem.

This identity is expressed in a very interesting terms in middle of the Perek: “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim V’Kavod V’Hadar T’Atrehu”. In His infinite Chesed, we have been elevated by HKBH to a point that we are only a little lower then the Malachim themselves. The truth is that it is a little difficult to understand these words: what does it mean to be Chaser M’At M’Elokim? It would seem that the human condition is a binary state, as is the Madreigah of a Malach: one is either a human or a Malach? How can we be just a bit less than a Malach?

Rashi seems to address this question, explaining that there are times at which humans play a role that is really beyond out normal bounds, affecting Teva, thus acting in the role of Malachaim. For example, Yehoshua was able to stop the sun from setting during Milchama, and also to dry up the Yarden so Bnei Yisroel could cross. Similarly, Moshe Rabbeinu was able to affect Krias Yam Suf, and Eliyahu HaNavi was Michayeh Mesim. In all these cases, a human being exceeded our normal Kochos, experiencing a reality of “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim”, if only for a moment.

While we can understand this Pshat in these words as Rashi explains it, there is another approach that can help us understand something about a person first introduced in this week’s Parsha: Moshe Rabbeinu.

There is a Medrash called Medrash Chaseiros V’Yesieros, which delves into the ways that various words are written in Tanach, particularly whether they are written Chasser—relying on Nikud in the place of letters such as Vav or Yud—or Malei—spelled out with all their letters and not relying on Nikud.

One section of the Medrash lists words that are always written one particular way, either Chasser or Malei, and explains why such is the case. Among these words is the name Moshe, first given in this weeks Parsha telling us: “Kol Moshe She’BiMikrah Chasser”. Never is the name Moshe spelled fully—It is always written Chasser, using a Cholam rather than a Vav.

The Medrash explains why this is true: the Passuk in Tehillim says “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim”, indicating that no man is complete. This was true in the case of Moshe Rabbienu as well, for as we know there are fifty Sharei Chachma, but Moshe was given only forty-nine. The Medrash than tells us which Shaar was hidden from Moshe Rabbeinu: Shaar Siyum Hasefer, which represents the ability to complete ones writing.

This Medrash allows us a new understanding in the words “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim”: no one person is given all the Sharei Chacham, and in this way as great as we are, we are still not Malachim, though we may get close. That said, we must understand one part of the Medrash a little better: what is the “Shaar Siyum Hasefer” that was withheld from Moshe Rabbeinu? Perhaps we can answer this question based on another Mamar Chazal.

The Gemara in Bava Basra speaks about who wrote each part of Tanach. There, the Gemara tells us that Yehoshua wrote Sefer Yehoshua, and eight Pessukim in the Torah. The Gemara continues, explaining that the last eight Pessukim, from the words “Vayamas Moshe” until the end of the Chumash, were written not by Moshe Rabbeinu but by Yehoshua. We can therefore suggest that this was the manifestation of Moshe’s inability to access the Shaar Siyum Hasefer: he did not finish writing the Torah.

While we can understand the Medrash based on the Gemarah, there are a number of questions that arise as a result.

First, if we are to understand that the words “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim” teach us that no one person will be Zoche to all fifty Sharei Chachma, as the Medrash suggests, why is this the one Shaar that was withheld from Moshe Rabeinu? Why was he not given the ability to write the last few words of the Torah, and finish that which he had begun?

Also, the Medrash says that each occurrence of the word Moshe—starting in this week’s Parsha and ending in Shemos—is written Chasser in order to allude to this aspect of his life. Why is this necessary? Why do we need to be reminded about the reality of “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim” each time the name of Moshe Rabbienu is mentioned? What does this teach us?

Before answering these questions we must also point out that idea that Yeshoshua wrote the final Pessukim of the Torah is only one opinion in the Gemara in Bava Basra. The Gemara brings the words of R’ Shimon who rejects the notion that Yehoshua wrote these Pessukim, instead teaching that these Pessukim were indeed written by Moshe but in a manner that differed from the rest of the Torah. R’ Shimon tells us that the Torah was written as follows: “HKBH Omer V’Moshe Omer V’Kosev”, Hashem would dictate the Passuk, and then Moshe would repeat it, then write it. For the final eight Pessukim, however, a different process unfolded: “HKBH Omer U’Moshe Kosev B’Dema”, the words were dictated by Hashem, and Moshe wrote them B’Dema, with tears.

If we understand that the final eight Pessukim of the Torah represent the “Shaar Siyum Hasefer” to which Moshe was not Zoche, in a Kiyum of the words “VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim”, it emerges that the fact that Moshe wrote these words B’Dema was akin to him not having written them at all. How can we understand this? Why did Moshe cry as he wrote these words, and why was this as if he had not written them at all, as indicated by the Medrash Chaseiros? This notion also compresses our earlier question: why is the name of Moshe Rabbeinu always written Chasser just to tell us that he would eventually write the final Pessukim of the Torah in tears?

The Tiferes Shlomo of Rodomsk, in a Mamar on Sukkos, uses this Gemara to illustrate an important point. The Zohar tells us “Man D’Ihu Rav Hu Zeir U’Man D’Ihu Zeir Hu Rav”, one who is great is small and visa versa. The Tiferes Shlomo explains that the ultimate sign of a person’s Madreiga is his Shiflus: the greater a person is, the less he makes of himself. This is the meaning of the Zohar: one who makes himself Rav, great, is actually Zeir, small, while one who makes himself Zeir is actually Rav.

This, explains the Radomsker, can be seen from Moshe Rabbinu, who is described by HKBH as the Avan Mikol Adam. Asks the Tiferes Shlomo: is this really the ultimate praise of Moshe Rabbeinu? Why is this the way that HKBH chose to extoll his greatest servant? Based on this idea we can understand these words, however: a persons greatness and Anivus are linked, and therefore the greatest Anav must also be the greatest person.

The final eight Pessukim of the Torah contain high praise of Moshe Rabbienu—they speak of the Mofsim he did and the fact that he spoke to Hahsem in a manner of “Panim El Panim”—and he did not wish to write them because of his Anivus. He had no choice, however, because HKBH was Mitzaveh him to do so, and so he did—but with tears, crying because he did not feel himself worthy of this praise. We see then, that the Pessukim that speak of the status of Moshe Rabbeinu as a “Rav” also illustrate his predilection to act as a “Zeir”, to the point that he was crying as he wrote them.

If we think about it, there is another difference between the rest of the Torah and the final eight Pessukim however: Moshe did not repeat these words before writing them as he always had. This too may have been due to his Anivus: normally, Moshe wished to internalize the Dvar Hahsem before committing it to writing, so he said the words first, only then taking quill to parchment. In the case of these final Pessuikim, however, he did no such thing—because of his Anivus, these words were almost anathema to him, and so he merely transcribed the words of Hahsem by rote, crying bitter tears as he did so.

Perhaps this is what it means that Moshe was not Zoche to the “Shaar Siyum Hasefer”: HKBH knew that Moshe would not want to write these Pessukim about himself, and so he was not granted the ability to finish the Sefer Torah, and write those final words as he had all the others. For these eight Pessukim he served merely as a scribe, copying over the words of Hahsem for posterity, but not allowing them to affect him.

As we learn about Moshe Rabbeinun, and various episodes in his life, it is important to remember the message of these words: the expression of VaTechasreihu M’At M’Elokim, the only way in which he was less than a Malach, was to allow Moshe Rabbeinu to achieve the level of Avinus for which he strove. This is why each time the name of Moshe Rabbienu is mentioned in the Torah it is Chasser, to remind us that he was the Rav seeking only to live as a Zeir.