Parshas Va'era - connecting Heaven to Earth

Sometimes, from the most inconspicuous places, great things emerge. An example is found in this week’s parsha.
The parsha begins the miraculous story of the Ten Plagues, which leads to the redemption of the Jewish People from Mitzrayim, their arrival at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, and their embarking upon their mission for the world. In this parsha, seven makkos are related, and in next week’s parsha, the remaining three.
Zeroing in on the makka called arov—wild beasts (according to R’ Yehudah in the Midrash, the most quoted opinion; R’ Nechemiah holds it was hornets and gnats)—we find something intriguing in verses 8:18 and 8:19. As Moshe warns Paro about the impending makka, the Torah describes how the Jewish People will be immune to it. In verse 18 it uses the expression “hifleisi” with respect to Goshen, where the Jewish People lived, and in verse 19 it says that Hashem will make a “pedus,” a distinction, between the Jewish People and the Mitzrayim. Both verses convey the general idea of Jewish immunity to the makka, but the repetition of different terms for what appears to be the same idea requires explanation.
The Ramban explains that the difference is as follows: hifleisi, an expression of pele—wonder—refers to the miraculous phenomenon that the wild beasts did not enter Goshen at all. Pedus, meaning redemption or removal, refers to a perhaps less obvious miracle: that any Jews who happened to be elsewhere in Mitzrayim were protected and escaped being attacked by the wild beasts.
Another understanding of pedus may be based on Rosh Hashanah 11a, which states that the slavery in Mitzrayim ended at the beginning of the month of Tishrei. The Mishnah in Eduyos teaches that the makkos lasted twelve months, and although there is dispute as to how the spread of the makkos unfolded throughout the year, some commentaries place the makka of arov in Tishrei (see Haggadah Shaarei Rachamim by Hacham Rahamim Churba-Cohen). Accordingly, the emphasis on pedus—redemption—may allude to the fact that with this makka, the actual enslavement of the Jewish People came to an end.
The Baal HaTurim, however, opens the door to a more spiritual, life-lesson-oriented understanding. He notes that the word pedus here is missing a vav, in contrast to the only two other places in Tanach where the word pedus is spelled with a vav: Tehillim 111:9 and 130:7. He explains that the distinction is that since this makka did not mark the final redemption of the Jewish People, it is missing a vav—hinting to something still lacking. Tehillim 111:9 refers to the completed redemption from Mitzrayim, which was now whole and therefore written in its full form, while Tehillim 130:7 refers to the ultimate future redemption, which certainly deserves a vav in its fullness.
The vav, we see, carries a message of hope, for it is always present when ultimate redemption is contemplated. The Sefer Ateres Paz notes that this is hinted at in the continuation of the pasuk itself, which says, “Tomorrow will be the sign.” On a pshat level, this refers to the makka, but the word used is “os,” which also means letter. Tomorrow—in the future—this letter will appear in its fullness.
In addition, we find that the vav is the very letter that Yaakov Avinu requested from Eliyahu as collateral to guarantee Eliyahu’s commitment to usher in the redemption.
What do we mean?
In Vayikra 26:42, the Torah says, “I will remember My covenant with Yaakov.” Yaakov is written there with an extra vav, and Rashi notes that this occurs in five places. Conversely, there are five places where Eliyahu’s name is missing a vav. Rashi explains that Yaakov took five vavs from Eliyahu as collateral, ensuring that he would fulfill his mission of ushering in the Geulah. Of course, these are esoteric ideas, since Eliyahu lived after Yaakov—although perhaps, given that Yaakov is said never to have died and to have become manifest in Eliyahu, it is in some sense a reference to himself. (As an aside, why did Yaakov request specifically five vavs? The Maharal explains that this alludes to the five fingers of the hand used in a handshake to seal a deal.) But once again, we see the central role the letter vav plays in redemption.
What is it about the vav that gives it such significance?
To understand the meaning of anything, we are taught to return to the very first place in the Torah where it appears. Where does the vav first appear? In the very first verse: “And Hashem created heaven “vav” earth.” Beyond simply meaning “and,” the vav reveals its deeper identity—to connect heaven and earth. The vav symbolizes the entire raison d’être of our lives: to bridge the gap between heaven and earth, to bring kedusha into the mundane, to sublimate the physical.
Accordingly, it is no coincidence that the vav is also the connecting letter between the upper heh and the lower heh of Hashem’s Name. Structurally, the vav is composed of a yud—representing absolute unity with Hashem—and a long downward line that draws that unity into the earthly realm.
Moreover, we are taught that the Messianic epoch first began to shine its light at the beginning of the sixth millennium. Many commentaries place this specifically around its dawn, which intriguingly corresponds to the year 1740, when the Baal Shem Tov appeared on the stage of Jewish history. Man, the bearer of the mission to bring holiness into the mundane, was created on the sixth day—the day that connects the mundane to the holiness of Shabbos.
What emerges is that from a small, inconspicuous omission of the letter vav in the word pedus, referring to redemption, a massive and powerful lesson unfolds: in order to experience redemption, we must embody the meaning of the vav—to connect ourselves to Shamayim and draw kedusha down into our physical lives. To elevate our food through brachos, to speak with refinement, to wear tallis and tefillin, to keep Shabbos, and to live as shomrei Torah and mitzvos.
Let us conclude with an inspiring story that captures this message as well:
The part of the river used as a mikveh for ritual immersion was situated high atop a steep hill on the outskirts of Premishlan. When the road leading up to it was slippery, people had to take the long way around the hill, as walking straight uphill was dangerous. Reb Meir, the Rebbe of Premishlan, always took the direct route, regardless of the state of the road, and was never known to stumble or slip.
One snowy day, when the icy mountain paths were especially hazardous, Reb Meir walked uphill to the river as usual. Two guests were staying in the area—sons of wealthy families—who had come under the influence of the Haskalah, or “Enlightenment,” movement. They did not believe in supernatural attainments, and when they saw Reb Meir striding uphill with sure steps as always, they convinced themselves that the road must not be dangerous at all.
To prove their theory, they waited until Reb Meir had begun immersing in the river, and then confidently set out up the icy hillside. After only a few steps on the treacherous path, they slipped and tumbled down, requiring medical attention. Once one of them had healed, he gathered the courage to approach the tzaddik and ask, “Why is it that no one else can negotiate the slippery road, while the Rebbe walks with sure steps and never stumbles?”
Reb Meir replied:
“If a man is connected above, he does not fall below. Meir is tied up on high, and that is why he can walk even a slippery hill with confidence.”
May we all be bound on High, and by living the meaning of the letter vav, draw kedusha and strength into our lives below.
Good Shabbos