This week's parsha is Parshat Ki Teitze, a Parsha literally about "Going Out."
The parsha includes a wide ranging selection of commandments and scholars look to unravel the common thread -and message.
One powerful message can certainly be found in the obligation known as hashavat aveidah, which happens when a sheep goes out/wanders off. The text reads:
"You shall not see your brother's ox or his sheep go astray [nidahim], and hide yourself from them: you should surely return them (the hebrew has a double language/emphasis -hasheiv t'ashiveim) to your brother. If your brother is not near you and you do not know him, then gather it inside your house, and it should remain with you until your brother asks after it, and you return it to him. So shall you do for his donkey, so shall you do for his garment, and so shall you do for any lost article of your brother that he has lost, and you have found: you may not hide yourself." (Deuteronomy 22:1-3)
This technical and seemingly limited law reflects several important ideas, as understood by Chazal.
First, we're talking about the need to put oneself out. Go out of your physical space and leave your emotional comfort zone. You need to chase after a walking --or more likely, running -- animal, catch it, and store it. You need to do this even if you don't know the owner and, probably right around the time you are sure the owner will never come a'calling, if he or she does, you need to graciously give up the animal. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? According to the Midrash, IF THE SAME ANIMAL runs away again, you need to chase it and return it -again. And again. 4 or 5 times. That is what is expected of you.
In explaining the rationale, the Torah uses a powerful expression: you may not hide yourself. You can't shirk your responsibility. That is the second idea. This phrase anticipates the words which Mordechai will tell Esther HaMalkah in the Purim story: "Al tidami binafsheich lihamaleit bais hamelech" -do not think you can escape your fate, hiding out in the royal palace.
The ending of Mordechai's phrase also whispers to us: "...ki im hachareish tacharishi baeis hazos revach vihatzalah yaamod layehudim mimakom acher viat uveis avich toveidu umi yodeia im laeis kazoos higaat lamalchus" -For if you persist in keeping silent at a time like this, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from another place, while you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows if precisely for such an occasion you were brought to be queen.” It's both a carrot and stick approach. You are special; this may very well be the role you were meant to carry out. But at the same time, God has a Plan B, and so if you don't live up to your obligation, others will be fine, the world will be OK -- but you will have lost out on the/your chance to do good.
There's a third message for us, on both a symbolic and literal level. This neighbor, the one for whom you must inconvenience yourself -who is this neighbor to you? "If your brother is not near you" -that's both a geographical description and a description of your relationship. Your neighbor is either literally, as the verse continues, someone "you do not know" or, perhaps just as common, someone you know but from whom you are estranged. Either way, he is not "close."
But on another level he is close. He is not a neighbor -that was imprecise. He is described as "your brother"; whether you know him or not, whether you have seen him before or not, whether you like him or not. It is a relationship that stretches the outer bounds of family(1), but is demanded by our common Father, Avinu Shebashamayim.
Making this leap brings us to our fourth message: Rabbi Moshe Alsheikh has a fascinating reading of verse 1 and the double language used. We'll repeat the verse. It says:
"You shall not see your brother's ox or his sheep go astray and hide yourself from them: you should surely return them (the hebrew has a double language/emphasis -hasheiv t'ashiveim) to your brother."
In Ha'aretz, Rabbi Benjamin Lau cites the Alsheikh and expounds on this explanation:
"Alsheikh suggests another reading of "hashev teshivam l'ahikha": 'Hashev refers to the initial instance of returning the stray animal; teshivam refers to all subsequent occasions. The first time we return the animal, we do so because the Torah commands it; later on, we return the animal because we want to, because we fervently desire to carry out God's wishes. When we obey this commandment the first time, our hearts are uplifted so that we will obey it again ... The commandment will be so firmly rooted in us and we will be so well versed in it, that we will be unable to look the other way when we see a lost item belonging to our neighbor.'
According to this pedagogical approach, human nature can be changed when we internalize new habits: When we abandon "I" and focus on "you" the first time, for example, we do so because we have been commanded - because the Torah imposes its teachings upon us. A new habit turns what has been imposed on us into something that we freely desire for ourselves. Thus, 'Thou mayest not hide thyself' must be read: 'You will not want to hide yourself, or look the other way.' "
There's a fifth and final thought, found in Or HaChaim. Given that the Jewish people are often compared to sheep, Or HaChaim understands this law metaphorically. If you are lucky enough to be close to God, then sharing that knowledge with others is not only natural, but something God asks you to do: Return them to their sheperd. We're not talking about forced conversions or roving rabbis with sign up sheets -what we are saying is: take responsibility for your broader family. Share your knowledge, hopes and dreams. What I find most beautiful about this law and about these verses is the interplay between man and God. When we teach people about God, part of what we are teaching is how much God asks us to look after each other. All of the explanations above are complementary. Religion at its best needs to make us better, better as people and better TO people.
*****************************
End Notes
(1) At the start of this piece, I mentioned that commentators look to find a unified theme for this parsha. According to Rabbi Yitz Etshalom, as quoted on Project Genesis site, that theme is family and so this makes an interesting extension/footnote to that theme. In Rabbi Etzshalom's words:
There is, however, a theme which ties most of the Parashah together and which is a likely candidate to follow the themes of R'eh and Shof'tim.
"A subject which occupies a major part of our Parashah is marriage, divorce and related issues (e.g. adultery, rape, levirate marriage ["Yibbum"] etc.). Although there seem to be some exceptions to this generalization, the Mitzvot in our Parashah are focused around issues of family. We have moved from a definition of the national polity - both in mission and in constitution (R'eh) to the national government (Shof'tim) to the micro-unit upon which the success (or failure) of the national endeavor rests - the family."
(2) This echoes the famous line from high holidays where God as our sheperd counts each Jew
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Shemini: Becoming Kosher
What we say is important. How we say it is perhaps even more important.
The 11th chapter of Leviticus (Vayikra) describes the laws of kashrut.
The laws of Kashrut provide a lesson not only about what goes into our mouths, but about what comes out of our mouths as well.
Let's look at the laws, and then see a beautiful observation made by chazal.
(Verse 4)"But this is what you may not eat from among those that bring up their cud or that have split hooves: the camel, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split; it is unclean (tamei) to you; (Verse 5) and the hyrax, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split; it is unclean (tamei) to you; (Verse 6) and the hare, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split; it is unclean (tamei) to you; (Verse 7) and the pig, for its hoof is split and its hoof is completely separated, but it does not chew its cud; it is unclean to you. (Verse 8) You may not eat of their flesh nor may you touch their carcass; they are unclean to you.
In Kol Torah, on verse 4, Rabbi Munk shares a touching thought. Let's quote the paragraph verbatim and then analyze it.
"But this is what you may not eat. See the commentary to Genesis 7:8 regarding the sensitive manner in which the Torah designates non-kosher animals. In that context, they are referred to as animals that are not clean [ainenah t'horah] rather than as unclean animals [t'meim]. This is cited in the Talmud (Pesachim 3a) as an example of how crude or vulgar language should be avoided. Throughout the present chapter, however, the term tamei, unclean, is frequently used. A clear statement of the law demands categorical language, free of the slightest equivocation. Nevertheless, notes R' Yehudah, in listing the non-kosher animals, the Torah makes a point of first stating the one "kosher" characteristic that each animal does posess [for example, the camel who chews his cud]. The other characteristic, connected with contamination, is relegated to second place (Bamidbar Rabbah 19)."
If we would break down Rabbi Munk's commentary, it would look something like this.
Nice Idea: In Genesis, we go out of our way to avoid calling any animal "unclean/tamei"-even ones that aren't kosher. Based on this, the Rabbis stress the importance of watching what we say [in my words: if we can't even call a pig treif, shouldn't we be extremely careful not to call people treif?]
Question: If so, how come in our parsha, Leviticus 11:4-8, we do in fact use the word unclean/tamei? Doesn't that negate the whole lesson we learned?
Answer: There's a balance. Values sometimes come into conflict. We don't want to "name call" or "label" anyone, but our competing goal is to ensure that people know they can't eat these animals. As a result, the need for clarity partially trumps our preference for using more delicate language --and we hope we can rely on Genesis to teach the other lesson.
Added punch line: please note that even here, we still choose our words carefully, at least in their order. We first list an animal's kosher trait, and only then list the feature that ultimately makes the unimal unclean.
It's like saying to parents, "Always start by pointing out what's good about your child, before proceeding to tell them those things they need to work on fixing."
I love the commentary for so mnay reasons, not least of all for the difference between what we do in Genesis and in Leviticus.
That's real world. Beautiful lessons and ideas need to be balanced by pragamatic concerns. Abstractions must be melded to fit sticky situations. One day, one value is stressed, the next day, another.
What's key is a commitment to keeping all values alive, and in this case these values have tremendous application to our lives.
Be careful about what you say, and how you say it. Be both gentle and firm, clear and vague, as the situation demands.
The comedian Elon Gold has a hysterical routine.
Elon says that growing up he was always confused by the phrase "Modern Orthodox." Is it modern, is it orthodox, how do the pieces fit together? And then he figured it out: the word modern (in the phrase Modern Orthodox) really means...(drum roll) "not very." It's not nice to describe someone as not very Orthodox, so we use the word "modern" instead. (1)
Elon's follow up is brilliant. It would be great if we were able to use this nicer way of describing things in other areas. Let's say you were setting up a girl.
"She's great, smart, kind, funny" says the shadchan.
"What does she look like?" asks the boy.
"She's modern pretty.
Of course it's just a joke, and of course people focus too much on looks, especially where women are concerned.
But as with so many jokes it gets at a truth -- in this case, actually it's a truth we don't focus on enough.
Do we even try to find the nicer ways of saying things? Are we as careful about what comes out of our mouths as we are about what goes in? Are our comments kosher?
How much time and effort do we spend trying to phrase things so as not to give offense? Is it as much as we spend being offended when someone else hurts our feelings with what they say?
Recently, and justifiably, there has been a push to ensure that kosher certification guarantess not only that the animal is kosher, but that the workers are treated well. We have the opportunity to certify ourselves, to watch and weigh our words, to ensure that our speech is holy and pure.
Clean speech is about so much more than not "cursing." It is about making sure we comfort and inspire, instead of tearing others down. Sometimes it is about keeping an open mind and a closed mouth. Ultimately, it is about using your mind and mouth together, for good, so that, as our Parsha concludes (2) "you shall become holy....For I am Hashem Who elevates you from the land of Egypt to be a God to you; you shall be holy, for I am holy." (Vayikra 11:45-46)
--------------------
1) It's comedy of course, and not meant as a serious critique. I am happy to repeat it because if anything I consider myself closest to modern or centrist orthodoxy.
2) There are only 2 verses which follow before the end of Parshat Shemini
The 11th chapter of Leviticus (Vayikra) describes the laws of kashrut.
The laws of Kashrut provide a lesson not only about what goes into our mouths, but about what comes out of our mouths as well.
Let's look at the laws, and then see a beautiful observation made by chazal.
(Verse 4)"But this is what you may not eat from among those that bring up their cud or that have split hooves: the camel, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split; it is unclean (tamei) to you; (Verse 5) and the hyrax, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split; it is unclean (tamei) to you; (Verse 6) and the hare, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split; it is unclean (tamei) to you; (Verse 7) and the pig, for its hoof is split and its hoof is completely separated, but it does not chew its cud; it is unclean to you. (Verse 8) You may not eat of their flesh nor may you touch their carcass; they are unclean to you.
In Kol Torah, on verse 4, Rabbi Munk shares a touching thought. Let's quote the paragraph verbatim and then analyze it.
"But this is what you may not eat. See the commentary to Genesis 7:8 regarding the sensitive manner in which the Torah designates non-kosher animals. In that context, they are referred to as animals that are not clean [ainenah t'horah] rather than as unclean animals [t'meim]. This is cited in the Talmud (Pesachim 3a) as an example of how crude or vulgar language should be avoided. Throughout the present chapter, however, the term tamei, unclean, is frequently used. A clear statement of the law demands categorical language, free of the slightest equivocation. Nevertheless, notes R' Yehudah, in listing the non-kosher animals, the Torah makes a point of first stating the one "kosher" characteristic that each animal does posess [for example, the camel who chews his cud]. The other characteristic, connected with contamination, is relegated to second place (Bamidbar Rabbah 19)."
If we would break down Rabbi Munk's commentary, it would look something like this.
Nice Idea: In Genesis, we go out of our way to avoid calling any animal "unclean/tamei"-even ones that aren't kosher. Based on this, the Rabbis stress the importance of watching what we say [in my words: if we can't even call a pig treif, shouldn't we be extremely careful not to call people treif?]
Question: If so, how come in our parsha, Leviticus 11:4-8, we do in fact use the word unclean/tamei? Doesn't that negate the whole lesson we learned?
Answer: There's a balance. Values sometimes come into conflict. We don't want to "name call" or "label" anyone, but our competing goal is to ensure that people know they can't eat these animals. As a result, the need for clarity partially trumps our preference for using more delicate language --and we hope we can rely on Genesis to teach the other lesson.
Added punch line: please note that even here, we still choose our words carefully, at least in their order. We first list an animal's kosher trait, and only then list the feature that ultimately makes the unimal unclean.
It's like saying to parents, "Always start by pointing out what's good about your child, before proceeding to tell them those things they need to work on fixing."
I love the commentary for so mnay reasons, not least of all for the difference between what we do in Genesis and in Leviticus.
That's real world. Beautiful lessons and ideas need to be balanced by pragamatic concerns. Abstractions must be melded to fit sticky situations. One day, one value is stressed, the next day, another.
What's key is a commitment to keeping all values alive, and in this case these values have tremendous application to our lives.
Be careful about what you say, and how you say it. Be both gentle and firm, clear and vague, as the situation demands.
The comedian Elon Gold has a hysterical routine.
Elon says that growing up he was always confused by the phrase "Modern Orthodox." Is it modern, is it orthodox, how do the pieces fit together? And then he figured it out: the word modern (in the phrase Modern Orthodox) really means...(drum roll) "not very." It's not nice to describe someone as not very Orthodox, so we use the word "modern" instead. (1)
Elon's follow up is brilliant. It would be great if we were able to use this nicer way of describing things in other areas. Let's say you were setting up a girl.
"She's great, smart, kind, funny" says the shadchan.
"What does she look like?" asks the boy.
"She's modern pretty.
Of course it's just a joke, and of course people focus too much on looks, especially where women are concerned.
But as with so many jokes it gets at a truth -- in this case, actually it's a truth we don't focus on enough.
Do we even try to find the nicer ways of saying things? Are we as careful about what comes out of our mouths as we are about what goes in? Are our comments kosher?
How much time and effort do we spend trying to phrase things so as not to give offense? Is it as much as we spend being offended when someone else hurts our feelings with what they say?
Recently, and justifiably, there has been a push to ensure that kosher certification guarantess not only that the animal is kosher, but that the workers are treated well. We have the opportunity to certify ourselves, to watch and weigh our words, to ensure that our speech is holy and pure.
Clean speech is about so much more than not "cursing." It is about making sure we comfort and inspire, instead of tearing others down. Sometimes it is about keeping an open mind and a closed mouth. Ultimately, it is about using your mind and mouth together, for good, so that, as our Parsha concludes (2) "you shall become holy....For I am Hashem Who elevates you from the land of Egypt to be a God to you; you shall be holy, for I am holy." (Vayikra 11:45-46)
--------------------
1) It's comedy of course, and not meant as a serious critique. I am happy to repeat it because if anything I consider myself closest to modern or centrist orthodoxy.
2) There are only 2 verses which follow before the end of Parshat Shemini
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Shemini: A Call to Appreciation
The Torah is an inspiring document.
Flip through its pages and you will be amazed, perhaps even intimidated by its heroes and heroines.
Abraham finds God, and is willing to argue with that same God when Abraham's moral conviction demands that he do so.
Isaac, according to most accounts, is an accepting participant in his own binding --willing to have his own life be taken if God wills it so.
Jacob leaves everything and risks everything to receive God's blessing, and become father of the Jewish nation.
Moses' parents perceive his holiness, and violate Pharoah's order by keeping him alive, risking their own deaths - or worse.
Approaching a massive sea, with the Egyptians in hot pursuit, Nachshon courageously jumps in - until the water splits as promised.
We read of great men and women who displayed great feats, faith, and fortitude.
But that's not what I want to discuss today.
There's a surprising yin to this yang which is also present in the Torah -and equally instructive for us.
The Torah is full of stories where we metaphorically trip while walking on stage to accept our diploma.
We read of mess-ups, missteps and mishaps, usually coming at seminal moments in our history.
In these clutch times, three-seconds-left-on-the-clock, we're-behind-by-one-point kind of times -- we "choke."
We disappoint God, each other, and ourselves.
Blame it On Adam. Or Eve.
Yom Kippur, we believe, is the day that Adam and Eve sinned. It is also the day they were created.
Think about the implicaton: the first couple, created by no less a parent than God, only lasts about an hour or two before sinning and getting kicked out of the Garden of Eden.
And in Parshat Shemini, we learn of another major faux pas.
As the nation gets ready to inaugurate God's Home, as Aaron and his family are officially stepping into the roles and rights of priesthood, at this very moment there is a pretty big blunder.
We can only speculate as to the exact nature of their sin -and theories and explanations abound - but we know that whatever they did, it was severe enough to earn them the death penalty.
It was their big moment, it was all of our big night --and they blew it.
But, beyond its value as a cautionary tale ("Don't drink and daven, or...) this tale, like its sister story in B'reishit, can also be inspiring.
The story speaks to human frailty and fallibility -- and that can be more liberating than limiting. Don't beat yourself up; Do the most you can --and recognize that at the end of the day, success is often in God's hands.
Greater people than you hae failed, but lesser people have also succeeded. Stay the course and don't be discouraged.
That is the personal message, but there is a communal one as well. It's obvious, but so hard to remember that here as elsewhere the Torah reminds us.
Let's call it the "Cut A Person A break, Wont'cha" Line of reasoning.
If Adam and Eve can make such a mess of things, if even Aaron's sons can err, and on such a scale, then when our friends, family or co-workers make mistakes of their own, can't we "lose" some of our indignant surprise and "gain" some understanding and sympathy?
Flip through its pages and you will be amazed, perhaps even intimidated by its heroes and heroines.
Abraham finds God, and is willing to argue with that same God when Abraham's moral conviction demands that he do so.
Isaac, according to most accounts, is an accepting participant in his own binding --willing to have his own life be taken if God wills it so.
Jacob leaves everything and risks everything to receive God's blessing, and become father of the Jewish nation.
Moses' parents perceive his holiness, and violate Pharoah's order by keeping him alive, risking their own deaths - or worse.
Approaching a massive sea, with the Egyptians in hot pursuit, Nachshon courageously jumps in - until the water splits as promised.
We read of great men and women who displayed great feats, faith, and fortitude.
But that's not what I want to discuss today.
There's a surprising yin to this yang which is also present in the Torah -and equally instructive for us.
The Torah is full of stories where we metaphorically trip while walking on stage to accept our diploma.
We read of mess-ups, missteps and mishaps, usually coming at seminal moments in our history.
In these clutch times, three-seconds-left-on-the-clock, we're-behind-by-one-point kind of times -- we "choke."
We disappoint God, each other, and ourselves.
Blame it On Adam. Or Eve.
Yom Kippur, we believe, is the day that Adam and Eve sinned. It is also the day they were created.
Think about the implicaton: the first couple, created by no less a parent than God, only lasts about an hour or two before sinning and getting kicked out of the Garden of Eden.
And in Parshat Shemini, we learn of another major faux pas.
As the nation gets ready to inaugurate God's Home, as Aaron and his family are officially stepping into the roles and rights of priesthood, at this very moment there is a pretty big blunder.
We can only speculate as to the exact nature of their sin -and theories and explanations abound - but we know that whatever they did, it was severe enough to earn them the death penalty.
It was their big moment, it was all of our big night --and they blew it.
But, beyond its value as a cautionary tale ("Don't drink and daven, or...) this tale, like its sister story in B'reishit, can also be inspiring.
The story speaks to human frailty and fallibility -- and that can be more liberating than limiting. Don't beat yourself up; Do the most you can --and recognize that at the end of the day, success is often in God's hands.
Greater people than you hae failed, but lesser people have also succeeded. Stay the course and don't be discouraged.
That is the personal message, but there is a communal one as well. It's obvious, but so hard to remember that here as elsewhere the Torah reminds us.
Let's call it the "Cut A Person A break, Wont'cha" Line of reasoning.
If Adam and Eve can make such a mess of things, if even Aaron's sons can err, and on such a scale, then when our friends, family or co-workers make mistakes of their own, can't we "lose" some of our indignant surprise and "gain" some understanding and sympathy?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Parshat Beshalach: Getting (Inter) Personal
The following d'var torah is by Zev Goldberg, printed in The Jewish Center's bulletin under the title, Of Decrees and Ordinances
----------
The story of the Jewish people's encampment in Marah is as short as it is enigmatic, and commentators throughout the ages have struggled to piece together the fractured elements of its narrative. After sweetening the bitter waters of Marah, the Torah records, "There He established for [the nation] a decree (chok) and an ordinance (mishpat), and there He tested them". However, the Torah omits the details regarding the nature of these decrees and ordinances. Similarly, the Torah informs us that the Jewish people were tested, but lends no information about what the test had been.
Rashi, based on the statement of the Talmud (Sanhedrin 56b) writes that at Marah, God gave the Jewish people three mitzvot -Shabbat, Parah Adumah (the red heifer used for purification rituals) and the laws of judges.
The Ramban challenges Rashi's understanding. If the Jewish people received these three mitzvot there, why does the Torah omit their crucial details? The Ramban stengthens his question by pointing to Parshat Bo, which is replete with intricate details regarding the mitzvah of sanctifying the new moon and of bringing the korban pesach. (1) Obviously, if the Jewish people received three fundamental mitzvot, the specifics regarding their proper performance would have been listed. Accordingly, the Ramban adopts a different understanding. Chok and Mishpat refer to a separate set of laws given to the Jewish people when they entered into the desert. Starting out as a fledgling nation of recently freed slaves, the Jews required instruction on acting like a proper and civilized nation. The Ramban writes that the set of laws included the laws of loving one's neighbor, modesty, respecting elders, fair business dealings and other commandments relating to interpersonal relationships.
It is noteworthy that, according to the Ramban, laws governing interpersonal relationships serve as a pre-requisite to the Jewish people's acceptance of the Torah. As the Midrash states, Derekh Eretz Kadmah LaTorah -ethical standards precede Torah learning. Perhaps this is the meaning of the verse that says "There He tested them." If the Jewish people in the desert could demonstrate their ability to operate as a fair and respectful society, they would prove themselves worthy of receiving the Torah.
1) The passover sacrifice
----------
The story of the Jewish people's encampment in Marah is as short as it is enigmatic, and commentators throughout the ages have struggled to piece together the fractured elements of its narrative. After sweetening the bitter waters of Marah, the Torah records, "There He established for [the nation] a decree (chok) and an ordinance (mishpat), and there He tested them". However, the Torah omits the details regarding the nature of these decrees and ordinances. Similarly, the Torah informs us that the Jewish people were tested, but lends no information about what the test had been.
Rashi, based on the statement of the Talmud (Sanhedrin 56b) writes that at Marah, God gave the Jewish people three mitzvot -Shabbat, Parah Adumah (the red heifer used for purification rituals) and the laws of judges.
The Ramban challenges Rashi's understanding. If the Jewish people received these three mitzvot there, why does the Torah omit their crucial details? The Ramban stengthens his question by pointing to Parshat Bo, which is replete with intricate details regarding the mitzvah of sanctifying the new moon and of bringing the korban pesach. (1) Obviously, if the Jewish people received three fundamental mitzvot, the specifics regarding their proper performance would have been listed. Accordingly, the Ramban adopts a different understanding. Chok and Mishpat refer to a separate set of laws given to the Jewish people when they entered into the desert. Starting out as a fledgling nation of recently freed slaves, the Jews required instruction on acting like a proper and civilized nation. The Ramban writes that the set of laws included the laws of loving one's neighbor, modesty, respecting elders, fair business dealings and other commandments relating to interpersonal relationships.
It is noteworthy that, according to the Ramban, laws governing interpersonal relationships serve as a pre-requisite to the Jewish people's acceptance of the Torah. As the Midrash states, Derekh Eretz Kadmah LaTorah -ethical standards precede Torah learning. Perhaps this is the meaning of the verse that says "There He tested them." If the Jewish people in the desert could demonstrate their ability to operate as a fair and respectful society, they would prove themselves worthy of receiving the Torah.
1) The passover sacrifice
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