First Aid for Redemption

Redemption doesn’t begin with perfection—it begins with one meaningful act.

Quantity or Quality?

Doctors Without Borders is an organization of physicians who provide humanitarian aid in war zones and crisis areas. A few years ago, an ethical discussion arose regarding doctors who travel to volunteer in developing countries. The question was this: when a doctor arrives for only a few days and is faced with many patients in need, what is the right approach? Should the doctor fully treat the patient in front of him—doing everything possible until that patient is properly healed—and only then move on to the next one? Or should he stabilize the first patient and immediately move on, so he can help as many people as possible?

For example: a dentist arrives to treat children. The child sitting in front of him needs a root canal. But if he performs it, he won’t have time to treat other children. On the other hand, if he gives the child a simple filling, it’s not the ideal solution—but it allows him to help many more children who are suffering from toothaches.

The ethical question was whether the physician’s oath morally obligates him to treat the patient in front of him until full recovery—without concern for the next patient waiting outside in pain—or whether his responsibility is to provide minimal treatment in order to help the greatest number of people. In three words: quantity or quality.

A very similar dilemma exists for those involved in Jewish outreach. When encountering a group of Jews and trying to bring them closer to Judaism, the question arises: should one focus on a small group that wants full commitment—learning, praying, observing mitzvot completely—even if that means there will be no time left for broader audiences? Or should one reach out to larger groups and try to influence them to do just one or two mitzvot?

In the Jewish world today, there are organizations whose stated goal is to create fully observant Jews. In contrast, there are those who believe in every Jew—no matter how much or how little he observes—and therefore focus on ensuring that every Jew performs at least one mitzvah. And you probably already know who that refers to.

Two New Commandments

The resolution to this dilemma appears in this week’s Torah portion, Bo.

The Torah describes the very first Passover night in Egypt. On the first day of the month of Nissan, G-d commands Moses: each household must take a lamb on the tenth of the month, keep it until the fourteenth, and then slaughter it in the afternoon (Exodus 12).

This is the first time the Jewish people are commanded to bring the Passover sacrifice. From that moment on, for generations—whenever the Temple stood—the Jewish people brought the Passover offering every year on the fourteenth of Nissan.

What makes the Passover in Egypt unique, however, is that G-d commanded them that year to take the lamb four days before it was slaughtered. Already on the tenth of Nissan, they were to bring the animal into their homes and tie it to the leg of the bed for four full days. Only on the fourteenth of Nissan did they slaughter it and eat it at the Seder that night.

Why was this command given four days in advance? Why did the lamb have to be alive in the home, tied to the bed? What kind of experience was that—for the family, and even for the animal? Why not simply take it on the day of the sacrifice and slaughter it immediately? Rashi himself raises this question: why was the taking of the lamb advanced four days earlier here, something that was not required in later generations?

Here’s the reason:

When the prophet Ezekiel describes the Exodus, he explains that G-d wanted to redeem the Jewish people, but they were “naked and bare”—stripped of mitzvot. They had assimilated into Egyptian society. As the Midrash puts it, the Divine attribute of justice argued: “These worship idols, and those worship idols.” What was the difference between the Egyptians and the Israelites? Just like the Egyptians, the Israelites worshipped idols. The Egyptians were uncircumcised—and most Israelites in Egypt were as well.

They had no mitzvot that could justify redemption. There was nothing to hold onto—nothing that could pull them out of exile. 

In his commentary on the verse, Rashi brings up this issue, and explains that therefore G-d gave them two mitzvot: the blood of the Passover offering and the blood of circumcision, which they performed that very night. (Rashi to Exodus 12:6). G-d gave them two commandments, so that they would have merit, something concrete, through which they could be redeemed from Egypt.

First Aid for Redemption

However, the Rebbe asks a fundamental question (Likkutei Sichot, vol. 16, p. 111 and onward): if the Jewish people needed mitzvot in order to be redeemed, why were they given specifically two? If one mitzvah is enough, then one should suffice. And if more than one is needed, why stop at two? Why not give them the Ten Commandments—or all 613 mitzvot?

The Rebbe explains that these two mitzvot were chosen deliberately, because together they contain the formula for redemption. The command about the Passover Lamb was not given because G-d was concerned that the Jewish people should have a good steak to eat on the night of the Exodus. There was a far deeper purpose behind it.

The lamb was the primary idol of Egypt. As long as the Jewish people worshipped idols, they were no different from the Egyptians and had no claim to redemption. Therefore, the very first step had to be that they stop worshipping idolatry. How would that happen? By taking the Egyptian god and slaughtering it. That act would be the clearest declaration that they no longer believed in it.

And in order for this to be a genuine, internal transformation—not a symbolic gesture—the Jewish people were commanded to take the lamb into their homes and keep it there for four days. They had to live with it, see it, and slowly become accustomed to the idea that they were going to slaughter it. If everything had happened in a single day, the act might not have been deeply internalized.

People sometimes act impulsively and later regret it. That is why G-d commanded them to keep the lamb in their homes for four days—so they would have time to process what they were doing. Only then would the slaughter be a true and lasting statement.

As a result of the mitzvah of the Passover sacrifice, the Jewish people were required to fulfill a second, no less demanding mitzvah. The Torah states that only a circumcised Jew may eat from the Passover offering: “This is the statute of the Passover… no uncircumcised person may eat of it” (Exodus 12:43).

The reality was that most of the Jewish people in Egypt had not circumcised themselves. In order to participate in eating the Passover sacrifice, all of them had to undergo circumcision.

Circumcising an eight-day-old baby is not such a dramatic experience—and the baby isn’t exactly consulted. But for an adult to willingly choose circumcision, of his own free will, is a very different matter.

The Rebbe explains why these two mitzvot specifically were chosen. King David writes in Psalms: “Turn away from evil, and do good” (Psalms 34:15). In order to connect to G-d, the Jewish people first had to turn away from evil—to renounce the idolatry they had been involved in. Only then could they do good—actively connect to G-d.

The word brit—covenant—does not refer to the surgical act itself; that act is called milah. A brit means a bond, a connection formed between two distinct parties—like a marriage covenant or a treaty between nations. In order to connect to G-d, the Jewish people had to “enter into a covenant” with Him. That is why these two mitzvot were chosen.

What we learn from this is that when G-d wanted to redeem the Jewish people from Egypt, He did not give them all 613 mitzvot. Instead, He gave them emergency first aid. So that they would no longer be “naked and bare,” He clothed them with just two mitzvot—enough to begin redemption.

Which Mitzvah Will Bring the Redemption?

This idea applies just as much today. In order to take the Jewish people out of exile, every Jew needs to have at least one mitzvah through which he or she is worthy of redemption.

But which mitzvah is the most fitting one? It’s true that any mitzvah—no matter which—connects a Jew to G-d the moment it is fulfilled. And yet, there is one mitzvah that G-d commanded the Jewish people immediately, on that very morning after the Plague of the Firstborn, while they were still in Egypt.

That morning was chaos. Some people were busy fulfilling “and you shall empty Egypt,” borrowing silver, gold, and clothing from their neighbors. Others were baking matzah—“they baked the dough… unleavened cakes” (Exodus 12:39). Others were packing their belongings. Meanwhile, the Egyptians were pressuring them to leave immediately: “Egypt urged the people to hurry and send them out of the land” (Exodus 12:33).

In the middle of that frantic, pressured morning—right in the middle of all that upheaval—G-d gives the Jewish people the mitzvah of tefillin. As the final verse of the Torah portion states: “It shall be a sign upon your hand and a reminder between your eyes” (Exodus 13:16).

The Rebbe identified ten mitzvah campaigns through which Jews should be encouraged: mezuzah, Shabbat candles, charity, kosher food, family purity, a home filled with Jewish books, Jewish education, Torah study, love of a fellow Jew—and tefillin. But there is one mitzvah that is more closely associated with Chabad than any other: the tefillin campaign.

Wherever you go, a Chabad rabbi seems to be waiting with a pair of tefillin: at the Western Wall, in airports, or on the streets of Manhattan.

Perhaps we can suggest that beyond all the reasons the Rebbe gave, he chose this mitzvah specifically because it was the mitzvah the Jewish people were commanded just before leaving Egypt. Everyone had already circumcised themselves. The Passover sacrifice requires a Temple. So what was the first mitzvah that applied to every Jew and was commanded at the time of the Exodus? The mitzvah of tefillin.

And this mitzvah is connected to women as well. When a man puts on tefillin, a woman has a share in that mitzvah—just as men have a share in the Shabbat candles lit by women.

To merit the complete redemption and the coming of Moshiach, every Jew needs at least one mitzvah. In truth, any mitzvah will do. But tefillin are something special—this is the mitzvah we were given already in Egypt.