Rabbi Mordechai WilligSeparation

In Parshas HaChodesh, the emphasis on the home is remarkable. A lamb is taken for each household (Shemos 12:3). The blood is placed at the entrance of the house (12:7) and serves as a sign on the house so that Hashem will pass over it (12:13). Subsequently, Moshe commands not to leave the entrance of the house (12:22) and promises that Hashem will not permit the destroyer to enter the home (12:23).

The Be'er Yosef explains that the home represents separation. He cites the Yalkut Shimoni (Va'Eschanan 828) which compares the Exodus to a birth. Hashem took a nation from amidst (mikerev) a nation (Devarim 4:34), as one takes a newborn from the innards of its mother (see Vayikra 1:9; Rashi Bereshis 18:12). Moreover, the two nations were similar, both uncircumcised and sporting identical provocative hairstyles.

Birth is impossible unless the fetus begins to separate from its mother's womb. As long as Am Yisroel worshiped idols and were uncircumcised, the birth, i.e. the Exodus, could not take place. Therefore Hashem commanded that they circumcise and stop worshiping idols (Rashi Shemos 12:6).

The final step in this critical separation was the Korban Pesach. The slaughter of the lamb, the Egyptian deity, would uproot any vestige of this idolatry from the hearts of Am Yisroel. No Egyptian could eat it (Shemos 12:43), and the blood near the door would deter entry into the home in which it was eaten. The prohibition to leave the home prevented any contact or conversation with the Egyptians on that night.

Eating together brings people's hearts close to one another (Sanhedrin 103b). Our eating the lamb together with our families and neighbors helped to establish us as a nation and separate us from the Egyptians who could not eat it with us. This separation made the birth of the Exodus possible.

Our distinctiveness included maintaining our own names and language (Vayikra Rabba 32:5). The need for distinctive names and language subsequent to matan Torah, when the many mitzvos of the Torah distinguish us, is questionable (see Igros Moshe O.C. 4:66). However, adopting the customs of the nations which have immoral overtones, such as the aforementioned non-Jewish hairstyles, is prohibited (Vayikra 18:3, see Shulchan Aruch Y.D. 178:1). Theaters and stadiums which exhibit lewd or violent entertainment are likewise prohibited (Rashi).

The temptations of the street are particularly dangerous in advanced societies, such as Egypt of then and western culture today. The openness of western society and its ostensible acceptance of Jews as equals have entrapped millions of our brothers and sisters since the Enlightenment. Intermarriage, assimilation, and wholesale abandonment of Judaism continue unabated.

Even observant Jews face new and insidious challenges. The Torah home, the fortress of our nation since Egypt, is more vulnerable and permeable than ever. The twin nemeses of post-modernism and feminism have wreaked havoc with our traditional family and communal structure. This latest zeitgeist often coexists initially with Torah observance, only to undermine religious fervor, and even basic practice, in relatively short order. This painful phenomenon is most pronounced, ironically, in the Holy Land.

These dangers have reached all segments of Orthodoxy, but are most prevalent among modernists who adopt not only the latest technology but also society's newest mores. One can hardly raise a new generation of Torah Jews with today's rampant nonjudgmentalism. A Jewish home whose walls have been penetrated by an ever increasing array of electronics, featuring uncensored entertainment and unlimited communication, is hardly a bastion of faith.

Today, as then, we are a nation within a nation, enmeshed and similar, as our forefathers were in Egypt. Our redemption, and indeed our survival, requires a measure of separation, now as then. The Jewish home and community must learn and internalize the eternal lesson of Parshas HaChodesh.