The last editorial of our esteemed editor, Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz, titled “The Art of Holding On,” elicited a footnote from me. In a powerful chizuk discourse, he taught us how to spot rays of light in the darkness and to “embrace [hardships] as opportunities.” However, his earlier paragraphs raised a troublesome question. When Moshe Rabbeinu delivered one of his first prophesies from Hashem, which was full of hope and good news, Klal Yisroel did not seem to react in kind. The posuk tells us, “Velo shomu el Moshe mikotzer ruach umei’avodah kasha — The people did not listen to Moshe because of shortness of spirit and crushing labor” (Shemos 6:9). Rabbi Lipschutz depicts eloquently how “they wanted to hear him but they couldn’t…it [was] impossible for them to hear.”

I remembered a series of maamarim from my rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner (now printed in Maamorei Pachad Yitzchok, Pesach 6:9; 98:1). In these presentations, the rosh yeshiva added something that could help us immeasurably to “hold on” and maintain hope in our apparently somber and ominous surroundings. He raises the question, along with the Ohr Somayach (Hilchos Chometz Umatzah 7:4) and many others, about why the structure of the Haggadah Shel Pesach revolves around drashos on the parsha of bikkurim in the Torah. Many wonder why the Haggadah would choose this text rather than the multitude of available pesukim from Sefer Shemos that directly describe Yetzias Mitzrayim.

Rav Hutner’s answer is that “even after the exodus from Egypt, there was one last obligation on our part to be fulfilled. That was the fact that we had not listened to Moshe. It would seem that this had never been rectified.” In the second of these maamorim, Rav Hutner added that it is inconceivable that Hashem’s words to Klal Yisroel through Moshe Rabbeinu were, chas veshalom, ineffectual and fruitless. The rosh yeshiva teaches us two answers to this dual question. First of all, as he notes, there is a rule that “a person doesn’t totally understand something his master has taught for forty years” (Rashi, Devorim 29:6, from Avodah Zarah 5b). Rashi understands this to refer to Klal Yisroel, since 40 years after Yetzias Mitzrayim and Mattan Torah, we began to understand things Hashem had said 40 years before. The rosh yeshiva adds that “this is an antidote against the despair when we hear something that we know is important but ‘we just don’t get it.’ Chazal are promising us that the kotzer ruach will wear off and we will eventually ‘get it.’”

The bikkurim connection is that although Klal Yisroel did not initially accept the totality of the fifth of the redemption promises, “veheiveisi — I shall bring you to the land,” they will later realize its truth. When they bring the bikkurim of the new land, they will declare with a full throat, “He brought us to this place… And now, behold! I have brought the first fruit of the ground” (Devorim 26:9-10). This is the requiting of our earlier failure to listen or even hear Hashem’s words. But it also illuminates how Hashem’s own words were never in vain, only temporarily unanswered but appreciated later on. That is why the author of the immortal Haggadah formulated so much of our gratitude to Hashem from the speech given by the farmer when he presents his basket of new fruit to the kohein, as the representative of the Creator. At that point, he is not only expressing gratitude for his own harvest, but in effect he becomes a spokesman for all of Klal Yisroel throughout history. Thus, the Haggadah, in which we do finally thank Hashem for adjusting and reducing the time of our bondage (chishav es hakeitz) and for the fact that we have begun to see the larger picture, finds its appropriate roots in the farmer’s joyous statement of gratitude.

According to the Noda B’Yehudah (Nodah B’Yehuda Al HaTorah, Va’eira, page 174), this concept goes to the heart of why the Yom Tov commemorating Yetzias Mitzrayim is called Pesach. He quotes the Medrash (Shir Hashirim Rabbah 2:1) that when Moshe Rabbeinu brought us those wonderful tidings that we would soon be redeemed, we asked a realistic question. “But Moshe Rabbeinu, how can this be? Isn’t it true that Hashem has already declared that we would be slaves for 400 years? We have only been here for 210.” Moshe Rabbeinu acknowledged the point, but responded that “now that Hashem has decided to redeem you, he does not gaze at any calculations. ‘The voice of my Beloved! Behold, it came suddenly to redeem me, as if leaping over mountains, skipping over hills.”’ In other words, as even the secular world has recognized the term for millennia, G-d decided to skip over any time-limitations and other reckonings and just bring us out of slavery.

We can certainly apply this to our current state of concern and worry. We may be unworthy; perhaps we should do more. But as soon as Hashem wants to bring the geulah sheleimah, no force in the world will be able to withstand Him. As we have mentioned here before, the novi (Micha 7:15) promised that “As in the days when you left Egypt I will show it wonders.” Chazal interpret this to mean that the geulah sheleimah will also come with great wonders, miracles and, presumably, even when we have somewhat despaired of ever seeing it. This is not to say that we should lose hope. On the contrary, our mitzvah is to truly believe and even expect the geulah. But if we become disheartened, we have the word of Hashem Himself and Moshe Rabbeinu that we shouldn’t worry about things like odds, human predictions or political patterns. In the face of Hashem’s promises and ability, all else is empty and frivolous.

The Imrei Emes (Va’eira, page 24) also enforces our hopes and aspirations for redemption from another perspective. He notes that after Klal Yisroel could not fully absorb and internalize Moshe Rabbeinu’s wonderful news, Hashem presented a list of the “heads of their father’s houses” (6:14). The Gerrer Rebbe explains that when we identified with the gedolei Yisroel, our spirits were renewed and we became capable of believing and recognizing the coming geulah. I must confess that I didn’t understand these words of the Gerrer Rebbe until I discovered the following amazing story in the Haggadah of Rav Avrohom Pam, rosh yeshiva of Yeshiva Torah Vodaas (Mareh Kohein, page 55).

As usual, Rav Pam teaches us to give everyone — in this case, Moshe Rabbeinu and all of Klal Yisroel — the benefit of the doubt. He writes, “Moshe Rabbeinu blamed himself for Klal Yisroel’s apparent inability to believe in the coming geulah. He felt that he had failed in his primary mission, which was to inspire Klal Yisroel to believe and trust the words of Hashem through his prophesy. This, he said, is similar to a story that was once told by Rav Elchonon Wasserman. A certain barber in his city had insisted on keeping his store open late on Fridays, when he was being mechallel Shabbos. Rav Elchonon paid him a visit, attempting to change his mind, but was unsuccessful. This bothered him tremendously and, on one occasion, the Chofetz Chaim came to consult with him about another subject. When Rav Elchonon related his distress over this situation, the Chofetz Chaim paid his own visit to the errant barber. Soon the shop was closed every Friday. Rav Elchonon used to conclude from this incident that “we see that there are no longer any people other than giants such as the Chofetz Chaim who are capable of giving chastisement.”

However, there is an even more important punch line to the story. Rav Pam relates that a certain Orthodox rabbi, who at the time lived in Savannah, Georgia, was trying to persuade his congregation to begin keeping Shabbos properly. He told them one Shabbos about another story with the Chofetz Chaim. In this case, it was actually a bochur in Radin who was caught smoking on Shabbos. When they told the Chofetz Chaim of the incident, he asked that the boy be brought to him. Again, the magic seemed to work and the boy was soon a shomer Shabbos. The rabbi concluded that he had no idea what the Chofetz Chaim had said, but that something indeed seemed to work.

At that moment, a man in the shul stood up, admitting, “I can tell you all who that boy was. It was me. I will tell you exactly what happened. He grabbed me by my hand and looked me in the eye. All he could get out of his throat was a deep sigh: ‘Oy Shabbos, Shabbos.’ I have lived in this city for sixty years and I have never once desecrated Shabbos ever since. The words of the Chofetz Chaim are still echoing in my ears.’”

Rav Pam continued with another incident, concerning the principal of the Be’er Hagolah girls’ division who was trying to stop the intermarriage of one of her students, a Russian girl. She went to the house, intending to explain to her why she shouldn’t do this sin, but before she could utter a sound, she began to wail and cried for a long time. The girl finally responded, “You don’t have to say anything. I will not marry him.” And she didn’t.

And so Rav Pam concluded, “Indeed, Moshe Rabbeinu thought that it was he who was lacking in the proper language or words of persuasion. This is what Rashi meant when he wrote that Hashem told Moshe that he should treat Klal Yisroel gingerly and have compassion for their horrific situation. Perhaps that should be our role at this time as well. We should be giving chizuk to every Jew, speaking softly, not angrily, but with words of comfort and consolation, reinforcing the teaching that although we are in darkness, the light of dawn is ever closer. As our editor said, just hold on. Moshiach is on his way.