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A heartfelt mazel tov to my sister, Shani Diner, her husband Rabbi Ari Diner, and their entire family on the birth of a baby girl!!

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S.A.L.T. - PARASHAT YITRO

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            The opening section of Parashat Yitro tells of the arrival of Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, at the Israelite camp at Sinai from Midyan.  Moshe tells Yitro about all of Benei Yisrael’s travails and the miracles God performed on their behalf.  The Torah describes Yitro’s response to this information with the enigmatic word “va-yichad” (18:9).

            Rashi offers two different explanations for this term.  First, he suggests that “va-yichad” means “rejoice,” presumably associating this word with the familiar term “chedva” (exuberance).  Rashi then cites the view of Shemuel, recorded in the Gemara (Sanhedrin 94a), that “va-yichad” describes Yitro’s distress upon hearing of the calamity visited upon the Egyptians.  Shemuel associates this word with the term “chidudin” (“prickles”), and thus explains that Yitro shuddered and felt pained when he learned of what had happened to his former countrymen.  (Shemuel appears to assume that Yitro had formerly lived in Egypt, as indicated by the famous Midrashic account of Yitro serving as an advisor to Pharaoh – Sanhedrin 106).

            While it is common for Rashi to offer differing interpretations of a word or verse, the contrast between his two approaches to the word “va-yichad” is striking.  Essentially, Rashi here describes two opposite experiences – joy and horror.  These aren’t simply two different definitions of a word; they are two diametrically opposed theories regarding Yitro’s reaction to the news of Egypt’s downfall.

            In truth, it is quite possible that both interpretations are correct – that Yitro experienced both joy and sorrow upon hearing of what happened to the Egyptians.  Intellectually, having embraced monotheism and joined Benei Yisrael’s ranks, he rejoiced over the triumph of justice and the fall of the cruel Egyptian empire.  Emotionally, however, he still felt attached to his native homeland.  He had not yet reached the point of complete emotional dissociation from Egypt.

            Rav Asher Brander develops this possibility that Yitro simultaneously experienced both elation and grief upon hearing of Egypt’s downfall:

In that great chasm between head and the heart lies the crux of the religious struggle. It is one thing to know, quite another to feel and do. The battle of veyadata hayom vahasheivosa el levavecha, knowing today and returning it to the heart, requires bridging the longest eighteen inches known to man – the distance between head and heart.

Rashi’s two approaches are reconciled. Human beings are complex. Was Yisro happy with the downfall of the Egyptians, the cradle of civilization and his old neighborhood? Surely. He knew it was truth…

But, oh did it hurt.

It is not easy to hear the destruction of one’s personal cradle. The head and the heart were in different places. That was Yisro’s psychological reality. Rashi’s first approach speaks to Yisro’s head, the second to his heart.

Rashi’s two explanations thus perhaps reflect the tension that all conscientious people experience between the mind and the heart, between the intellect and the emotions.  Yitro resolved to leave his pagan past and join Benei Yisrael, but he had yet to fully detach himself emotionally.  This ongoing struggle expressed itself in his simultaneous, conflicting reactions to the news of Egypt’s downfall.

Sunday

            The fourth of the Ten Commandments which God proclaimed at Mount Sinai is the command of Shabbat: “Zakhor et yom ha-Shabbat le-kadesho” (“Remember the Shabbat day, to make it sacred” – 20:8).  The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (106a) points to this verse as the Biblical source of the obligation of kiddush, to declare the sanctity of Shabbat over a cup of wine when Shabbat begins.  Several Rishonim accept the straightforward implication of the Gemara that reciting kiddush over a cup of wine on Shabbat constitutes a Torah obligation.  The Rambam (Hilkhot Shabbat 29:6), however, maintained that the recitation of the text constitutes a Biblical obligation, but the requirement to recite the text over a cup of wine was enacted by the Sages.  This is the view accepted by many Acharonim.

            The Sages also enacted an additional kiddush recitation on Shabbat morning, which is commonly referred to with the term “kiddusha rabba.”  The Rishonim appear to debate the issue of how closely this kiddush relates to the Biblical obligation of kiddush on the night of Shabbat.  The Rambam (Hilkhot Shabbat 29:10) rules that it is forbidden to eat on Shabbat morning before reciting kiddush, just as one may not eat on Friday night after Shabbat begins until he recites kiddush.  The Ra’avad, however, vehemently argues, going so far as to say that if the Rambam arrived at this ruling based on his own reasoning (as opposed to a halakhic source), then “he has never held a worse rationale than this in his life.”  The Ra’avad notes that once a person recited kiddush when Shabbat began on Friday night, then there is no reason to forbid eating on Shabbat morning before reciting kiddush.  This is also the position taken by Maharam Halawa in his commentary to Masekhet Pesachim (106a).

            This debate likely reflects two different perspectives on the nature of the Shabbat morning kiddush (as developed by Rav Yonason Sacks.  The Rambam, it appears, understood the Shabbat morning kiddush as a “kiddush mi-de’Rabbanan,” a recitation which the Sages enacted and modeled after the Friday night kiddush.  They extended the Biblical obligation to declare the sanctity of Shabbat when Shabbat begins to include a similar ritual on Shabbat morning, as well.  For this reason, the detailed requirements relevant to the Shabbat morning kiddush correspond to those that apply to the Biblical Friday night kiddush.  The Ra’avad, by contrast, likely viewed the Shabbat morning kiddush as something entirely different.  In his view, the Sages simply required enhancing the meal on Shabbat day by including a cup of wine.  The absence of a special kiddush text at the Shabbat morning kiddush (notwithstanding the common custom to recite Shabbat-related verses) indicates that this obligation does not constitute an actual “kiddush.”  The Sages required drinking a cup of wine, not “making kiddush.”  Hence, the laws that apply to the Friday night kiddush do not apply on Shabbat morning.

            These different perspectives may themselves stem from a more general issue concerning the nature of the Torah obligation of kiddush.  The Rambam, in his discussion of this mitzva, explains the kiddush declaration as a verbal acknowledgment of the distinctiveness of this day.  He writes that we recite kiddush at the onset of Shabbat and havdala at the end of Shabbat for the purpose of announcing that the interim period is fundamentally distinct from the time before and after it.  This perspective on kiddush allows for the possibility of extending the obligation to a kiddush recitation on Shabbat morning.  The Sages felt it appropriate to make such a declaration even in the middle of Shabbat, in order to reinforce our awareness of the special quality of this day.

            The Ramban, however, in his commentary to Parashat Yitro (20:7), explains that we recite kiddush when Shabbat begins in order to take part in the actual consecration of this day.  Just as the Sanhedrin declares the jubilee year “sacred” through a formal proclamation when it begins, similarly, we make the day of Shabbat sacred through our kiddush declaration.  As Shabbat begins, we designate it as a holy day by announcing its status of sanctity.  According to this perspective – and especially in light of the model of the yovel year, which the Ramban mentions – it becomes more difficult to draw an association between the nighttime and daytime kiddush recitations.  The Biblical kiddush on Friday night serves to proclaim the subsequent period as a period of holiness, and there seems to be no purpose served by making such a proclamation once Shabbat is well underway.  According to this view, then, it seems more likely that the Shabbat morning kiddush is something much different, simply an enhancement of the Shabbat experience, and not a rabbinic extension of the Biblical kiddush.  According to the Rambam’s view, however, that the Friday night kiddush serves as a verbal acknowledgment of the uniqueness of Shabbat, we can entertain the possibility of extending this obligation to Shabbat morning, for the purpose of reinforcing our awareness of this uniqueness.

Monday

            The opening section of Parashat Yitro tells of the arrival of Yitro – Moshe’s father-in-law – to the Israelite camp.  The first verse relates that Yitro was driven to join Benei Yisrael upon hearing of the recent miraculous events that had transpired: “Yitro…heard all that God did for Moshe and for His nation, Israel, that the Lord took Israel from Egypt.”  Surprisingly, however, when Yitro arrives, Moshe brings Yitro into his tent and then tells him of these miracles: “Moshe told his father-in-law all that the Lord did to Pharaoh and to Egypt on account of Israel…” (18:8).  The obvious question arises, why did Moshe describe to Yitro the events that he had already heard?  And why did Yitro not interrupt Moshe and say, “Yes, my son-in-law, I’ve heard all about it – and this is precisely why I am here!”  Why did Yitro sit and listen to Moshe describe the events of which he had heard and on account of which he decided to come to Benei Yisrael?

            One possible answer (as discussed by Rabbi Eli Mansour at http://dailyhalacha.com/WeeklyParasha.asp?PageIndex=4&ParashaClipID=288) is that Moshe related the events to Yitro from a different perspective, and with a different point of focus.  In reference to Moshe’s conversation with Yitro, the Torah adds a clause that does not appear in the parasha’s first verse which tells of the news that Yitro had heard before his arrival: “…all the troubles that confronted them along the way, and how God saved them.”  This phrase may perhaps shed light on the purpose of Moshe’s conversation with Yitro after his arrival.  Yitro read the “headlines”; he heard the widely-circulated reports of the dramatic, miraculous downfall of the Egyptian Empire, how a sea suddenly split to rescue Benei Yisrael, how a slave nation defeated the well-trained forces of Amalek, and how the two million homeless refugees traversed the arid desert of Midbar Sin and survived.  But Yitro had not heard of the less rosy details of Benei Yisrael’s experiences.  Nobody in Midyan reported about the people’s charge against Moshe at the shores of the sea, “Is it because of the lack of graves in Egypt that you took us to die in the wilderness?” (14:11)  Yitro did not hear of those anxious moments in Refidim when Moshe literally feared that the people would kill him when they had no water (“od me’at u-skaluni” – 17:4).  In short, the news of the miraculous salvation spread throughout the region, but it is unlikely that anybody heard of the numerous travails and complex crises that sprang up along the way.

            In speaking with Yitro, Moshe wanted to ensure that his father-in-law did not harbor any utopian illusions about being part of Am Yisrael.  Certainly, God’s treasured nation earns a special degree of divine assistance and protection.  But we also have our share of “kol ha-tela’a asher metza’atam ba-derekh,” difficult problems and dilemmas, stressful moments, periods of uncertainty, situations of anxiety and fear.

            If, indeed, this was the underlying purpose of Moshe’s conversation with Yitro, then it conveys an important lesson relevant to education and outreach.  Certainly, we believe and teach that Torah life brings a person a sense of meaning, purpose and direction, as well as a share in the collective blessings promised to Am Yisrael.  But we must avoid giving misleading and mistaken impressions about life as a Torah observant Jew.  Halacha requires a Beit Din to warn prospective converts about the hardships that accompany Jewish life; they must ensure that a convert does not embark on this process with the mistaken assumption that everything will be smooth and easy once he becomes a Jew.  Similarly, when we “market” the Torah to our children or to those considering embracing a Torah lifestyle, we must ensure to present an honest, realistic picture, to show the beauty and meaningfulness of Torah life without harboring false, unrealistic expectations.

Tuesday

            The Torah in Parashat Yitro tells of the event of Ma’amad Har Sinai – God’s revelation to Benei Yisrael at Sinai – and the Ten Commandments which He pronounced to them during that event.  A brief glance at the text of the Ten Commandments reveals that they are formulated in the singular form.  This should not surprise us, as many commands throughout the Torah are formulated in the singular form, despite the fact that they quite obviously are directed toward all Benei Yisrael.  Surprisingly, however, the Midrash, in a famous passage (Shemot Rabba 43:5), tells that Moshe pointed to the formulation of the Ten Commandments as a basis for excusing Benei Yisrael for the sin of the golden calf.  According to the Midrash, Moshe pleaded to God, “Master of the world!  This is what You said at Sinai: ‘Anokhi Hashem Elokekha’ – it does not say, ‘Elokeikhem’ [in the plural form].  Wasn’t it said [only] to me?”

            The obvious question arises, did Moshe honestly believe that the command of “I am the Lord your God,” which (according to the Rambam and others) establishes the fundamental belief in God, was not given to the entire nation?  For that matter, could he have really thought that any of the Ten Commandments were not directed to all Am Yisrael?  How did he try to absolve Benei Yisrael of liability by advancing the claim that the Torah’s commands applied only to him?  If anything, such a claim seemed only to reinforce God’s conclusion in response to the golden calf, that the nation should be destroyed and a new nation should be formed from Moshe (“ve-e’eseh otekha le-goi gadol” – Shemot 32:10).  How might we understand the Midrash’s comment?

            Rav Chayim Yaakov Goldwicht zt”l (Yekara De-chayim, pp. 72-73) explained that the Midrash did not consider the commandments binding only upon Moshe, but rather saw them as directed to the single, organic entity of Kelal Yisrael.  Rashi (to 19:2) famously cites Chazal’s description of Benei Yisrael as encamping at Sinai to receive the Torah “ke-ish echad be-leiv echad” – “as one person with one heart.”  The singular formulation of the commandments reflected the melding of all members of the nation into a single unit, that they were receiving God’s commands as one person, unified in their shared desire to serve their Creator.  Moshe’s claim was that this organic entity of Kenesset Yisrael did not transgress during the incident of the golden calf.  The worshippers of the calf separated themselves from this entity, and this is what enabled them to sin.  The command of “Anokhi Hashem Elokekha” was given to the “ish echad” which was embodied and represented by Moshe himself – and this “person” did not sin.  The sin was committed by members who detached themselves from this “ish echad,” but not by the “ish echad.”

            Rav Goldwicht cited in this context the Gemara’s comment in Masekhet Sanhedrin (63a) that Benei Yisrael at the time of the golden calf actually sought to worship many gods.  What this means, Rav Goldwicht explained, is that the violators were not unified even among themselves – each had a different intent in fashioning and worshipping the calf.  This underscores the fact that Benei Yisrael committed this act as individuals, not as part of a single, organic group.  They acted as representatives of only themselves, and not as members of Kenesset Yisrael.  The essence of Am Yisrael thus remained spiritually intact.

            This is the meaning of Moshe’s defense.  Rav Goldwicht compared Moshe’s argument to the distinction between a man who angrily destroys his home, and a man who angrily leaves his home.  The former has nowhere to return even if he experiences a change of heart, whereas the latter can still restore his family life by returning to his home and starting anew.  Moshe claimed that through the worship of the calf, Benei Yisrael abandoned the house, but did not tear it down.  In a moment of confusion and desperation, they temporarily dissociated themselves from the entity that stood at Sinai and heard, “Anokhi Hashem Elokekha.”  That entity of Kelal Yisrael remains intact, and through the process of teshuva, the former members of that entity can once again become current members.  Teshuva (literally, “return”) means returning not only to God, but to Kelal Yisrael, to the abstract, eternal entity that is forever bound to its roots at Mount Sinai.  We return to the Almighty by returning to our nation, by identifying fully with the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, by becoming part of that “ish echad” that stood at Sinai and declared his unwavering allegiance to the Almighty.

Wednesday

            Toward the end of Masekhet Berakhot (63), the Gemara records the series of brief speeches that were delivered by several sages on the occasion of the establishment of the yeshiva in Yavneh.  Rabbi Nechemya, in his address, discussed a verse from Sefer Shemuel I (15:6) regarding the Keni tribe, which is commonly identified as the descendants of Yitro.  Before launching his military strike against the Amalekites, King Shaul sent a message to the Kenites, who lived among or near Amalek, warning them of the impending attack and urging them to leave.  In his message to the Keni, Shaul explained why he and Benei Yisrael wanted to spare them: “you performed kindness for all the Israelites when they left Egypt.”

            Rabbi Nechemya commented, “If this [is the reward for] Yitro, who brought Moshe near only for his own honor, then all the more so [this is true of] one who hosts a Torah scholar in his home, gives him food and drink, and shares his possessions with him.”  Yitro’s kindness toward Moshe earned immense reward that saved the lives of his descendants, and Rabbi Nechemya pointed to this reward as an indication of the great value of offering financial assistance to scholars so they can devote themselves to Torah learning.

            To what act of kindness did Shaul refer when he spoke of the kindness the Kenites’ progenitor performed “for all the Israelites”?

            Rashi, in his commentary to the Gemara, explains this reference by citing a verse from Parashat Yitro, where the Torah describes Yitro’s arrival at the Israelite camp at Mount Sinai: “Moshe, Aharon and all the elders of Israel came to eat with Moshe’s father-in-law before God” (18:12).

            The implication of Rashi’s comments is that Yitro hosted the feast, and Moshe, Aharon and the elders came as his guests, and this is the act of kindness to which Shaul referred.  As the Maharsha notes, however, the narrative appears to indicate that to the contrary, Yitro was the guest of Benei Yisrael, and the nation’s leaders hosted him.  Indeed, Rashi, in his commentary to the aforementioned verse, writes (based on the Mekhilta) that Moshe stood and served the meal while Yitro sat and enjoyed.  This certainly suggests that Moshe and Aharon – as the nation’s representatives – hosted Yitro.  This episode, then, cannot be the act of kindness to which Shaul referred in his message to the Kenites.  The Maharsha therefore claims that Shaul referred not to Yitro’s arrival at Sinai, but rather to Moshe’s arrival at Midyan, many years earlier, when he was forced to flee from Egypt.  Yitro graciously invited and welcomed Moshe – a penniless fugitive – into his home, gave him his daughter’s hand in marriage, and employed him as a shepherd (2:20-3:1).  It was this display of kindness for which Yitro was rewarded through Shaul’s sensitivity to his descendants prior to the assault on Amalek.

            Later commentators challenged the Maharsha’s interpretation, noting that Shaul spoke of the kindness that was performed “to all the Israelites,” and not specifically to Moshe.  The Maharsha addressed this question, and suggested that as Moshe ultimately emerged as the savior of Benei Yisrael, Yitro’s kindness toward Moshe effectively amounted to kindness toward the entire nation.  It should be noted, however, that Shaul described the kindness as having been performed “ba-alotam mi-Mitzrayim” – when Benei Yisrael left Egypt, whereas Yitro’s kindness to Moshe was performed earlier, when Moshe was in Midyan.

            Rav Soloveitchik (as cited in Rav Herschel Schachter’s Nefesh Ha-Rav, pp. 284-5) defended Rashi’s approach to explaining the Gemara’s comment.  He noted that the feast that Yitro attended together with the leaders of Benei Yisrael involved the offering of sacrifices: “Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, brought a burnt-offering and zevachim to God, and Moshe, Aharon, and all the elders of Israel came to eat…”  The term “zevach” generally denotes a shelamim sacrifice, which is unique in that the individual offering sacrifices receives rights to the majority of the sacrificial meat.  Yitro brought shelamim sacrifices, and invited the leaders of Benei Yisrael to join in his sacrificial feast as the nation’s representatives.  While it is true that Moshe served the meal, Rav Soloveitchik explained that this was done to demonstrate that God – as represented by Moshe – is always the true “host” of any celebration.  But the food was supplied by Yitro, in the form of sacrificial offerings, and he invited Moshe, Aharon and the other leaders to partake of his feast.  This, indeed, was an act of kindness for which Yitro and his descendants were rewarded.

Thursday

            Yesterday, we noted the verse in Parashat Yitro that briefly describes the feast that was held when Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, arrived at the Israelite camp: “Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, took a burnt offering and feast offerings for God, and Moshe, Aharon, and all the elders of Israel came to eat together with Moshe’s father-in-law before God” (18:12).

            The Gemara, toward the end of Masekhet Berakhot (64a), derives from this verse the principle that “whoever enjoys a meal where a Torah scholar is present is as though he enjoys the radiance of the Shekhina.”  The verse speaks of the participants of the feast eating “before God,” even though there was no outward revelation of the divine presence at this occasion.  The Gemara therefore concludes that since the people ate in the presence of Moshe, they are considered to have eaten in the presence of the Almighty, thus establishing that one who participates in a meal where a Torah scholar is present is considered as basking in “the radiance of the Shekhina.”

            This comment, of course, raises several questions, most obviously, and perhaps most importantly, what exactly it means to be considered as “enjoying the radiance of the Shekhina.”  Moreover, why should a person receive such credit simply because he takes part in a meal together with a Torah scholar?

            Rav Soloveitchik (as cited in Rav Herschel Schachter’s Nefesh Ha-Rav, p. 285) suggested that the explanation of the Gemara’s comment can be found in its formulation in describing one who takes part in a meal with a Torah scholar: “ha-neheneh mi-se’uda she-talmid chakham sharui be-tokho.”  The Gemara speaks of a meal where a Torah scholar is “sharui,” a term which implies something stronger than mere presence.  Rav Soloveitchik claimed that this word relates to the term “mishrat anavim” (Bamidbar 6:3), which the Gemara (Pesachim 43b and elsewhere) explains as referring to food that was soaked in, and has thus absorbed, wine.  An event in which a Torah scholar is “sharui” is one which “absorbs” his presence.  The Gemara speaks of an event that revolves around the talmid chakham such that all the participants are affected and impacted by his presence.

            Chazal equated such an experience with that of “neheneh mi-ziv ha-Shekhina,” basking in the radiance of the divine presence.  One stands in God’s presence not by withdrawing from earthly pursuits, but rather by infusing those pursuits with spiritual meaning.  The Gemara here specifically pointed to a feast as the context where one can aspire to experience “ziv ha-Shekhina.”  Through the observance of Halakha and conducting oneself according to the values and goals of the Torah while engaging in an otherwise mundane activity such as eating, a person lives in the presence of the Shekhina.  Godliness is not reserved for the intrinsically spiritual spheres of life; quite to the contrary, it means lending a spiritual, sacred quality to everything one does, and bringing the Shekhina into his or her every area of engagement.

Friday

            The fourth of the Ten Commandments is the mitzva to “remember the day of Shabbat,” which Chazal (Pesachim 106a and elsewhere) cite as the Biblical source for the obligation of kiddush.  The Rambam, in Hilkhot Shabbat (chapter 29), famously rules that the Biblical obligation requires simply making a verbal declaration about the sanctity and singularity of Shabbat.  The requirement to make this declaration over a cup of wine, according to the Rambam, was enacted by Chazal and is not included in the Torah obligation of kiddush.

            The Magen Avraham (271:1), in one of the more famous passages in his work, concludes on the basis of the Rambam’s position that one essentially fulfills the Torah obligation of kiddush by reciting the arvit prayer on Friday night.  In this prayer we speak about the uniqueness and designation of Shabbat, thereby satisfying the Biblical requirement of a verbal declaration.  By the time one arrives home for kiddush, he bears only the additional, rabbinically-mandated obligation to make a verbal declaration over a cup of wine.  On this basis, the Magen Avraham sought to explain the ruling cited in the name of Rabbenu Tam that a person who does not have wine does not recite kiddush.  Why, the Magen Avraham asked, should a person not recite the kiddush text to fulfill the Biblical obligation, even if he is unable to fulfill the rabbinic requirement to recite kiddush over a cup of wine?  Evidently, since the Biblical obligation is satisfied with the recitation of arvit, there is nothing gained by reciting kiddush if one does not have wine.

            Rabbi Akiva Eiger (in his chiddushim to the Shulchan Arukh) draws proof to the Magen Avraham’s theory from the fact that Halakha does not require reciting kiddush when Shabbat falls on Yom Kippur.  According to the Rambam’s view, that the Biblical requirement entails only a verbal declaration, and not a cup of wine, the observance of a fast should not affect the Torah obligation of kiddush in any way.  Even if we cannot drink wine on Yom Kippur, there should be no reason not to recite kiddush.  The fact that Halakha does not require reciting kiddush on Friday night in such a case might prove that this obligation is fulfilled through the arvit service, in which we mention Shabbat and thus satisfy the Biblical requirement of kiddush, as the Magen Avraham asserted.

            The Minchat Chinukh (31:5), however, among other later writers, questioned the Magen Avraham’s ruling in light of the Gemara’s comment in Masekhet Pesachim (117b) that one must make mention of the Exodus in the kiddush recitation.  The Gemara establishes this requirement on the basis of a gezeira shava (an association implied by a shared word).  The Torah uses the word “zakhor” (“remember”) in reference to the mitzva of kiddush, and the related term “tizkor” appears in the context of the Exodus (Devarim 16:3), alluding to the fact that one must remember – or, more accurately, make mention of – the Exodus as part of kiddush.  Now the amida prayer on Friday night indeed speaks about Shabbat, but it makes no mention of the Exodus.  How, then, could the Magen Avraham claim that one fulfills the Torah obligation of kiddush through the recitation of arvit, if no mention is made of the Exodus in that prayer?  (It should be noted that the text of the Friday night amida prayer recorded in the Kolbo actually includes mention of the Exodus, but this is not the commonly accepted text.)

            On the basis of this objection, the Mitzpeh Eitan (Berakhot 51b) and others rejected the Magen Avraham’s ruling, and concluded that one does not, in fact, fulfill the Biblical requirement of kiddush by reciting the Friday night arvit prayer.  The Mitzpeh Eitan sought to thereby resolve the famous question of how a husband can recite kiddush on Friday night on behalf of his wife, if she had not recited arvit and therefore has yet to fulfill the Torah requirement of kiddush.  If the husband is required to recite kiddush only on the level of rabbinic enactment, as he has fulfilled the Torah obligation through arvit, then, seemingly, he cannot recite kiddush for his wife, who is obligated on the higher level of Torah law.  This question immediately vanishes once we reject the assumption that one fulfills the Torah obligation of kiddush by reciting arvit.

            Others, however, defend the Magen Avraham’s ruling.   One theory (cited in the name of the work Minchat Pitim) is that we do, in fact, mention the Exodus during the arvit prayer – before the amida, in the final verse of shema and in the section immediately following shema.  Although this mention of the Exodus is not in the immediate context of the discussion of Shabbat in the amida prayer, the two sections of the service are recited in close enough proximity to satisfy the requirement of mentioning the Exodus in the context of kiddush.  Thus, one indeed fulfills the Torah obligation of declaring the sanctity of Shabbat – and mentioning the Exodus – through the recitation of the arvit service.

            Another possible answer (suggested by the Binyan Shelomo, 21, and others) is that the Biblical obligation of kiddush does not require mentioning the Exodus.  Although the Gemara cites a Biblical source for the requirement to mention the Exodus, it possibly referred to an asmakhta – an allusion in the Torah to a law enacted by Chazal.  Therefore, the Magen Avraham is indeed correct in asserting that one fulfills the Torah obligation of kiddush by reciting arvit, since mentioning the Exodus is not included in the Torah obligation.

(Based on Rav Chayim Shlomo Abraham’s Devar Torah, Parashat Yitro)