Parshas Ki Tova – Words that Express Relationship.

Parshas Ki Tavo is, when taken as a whole, a complex parsha. It starts with the mitzvah of bikkurim and includes the tithes, the creation of stones inscribed with law, and the curses and blessings that were to be declared upon entering the land. The vast majority of the pasukim in the parsha, however, are the Tochacha, the terrible consequences that will happen if the people stray from the right path.

 

Within all that, there is an interesting set of verses that seems, at the outset, to be not so interesting: “You have affirmed this day that Hashem is your God, in whose ways you will walk, whose laws and commandments and rules you will observe, and whom you will obey. And Hashem has affirmed this day that you are, as promised, God’s treasured people who shall observe all the divine commandments” (26:17-18).

 

As incredibly important as these ideas are, they have been stated numerous times throughout the Torah. This leads to the question of what is unique in this inclusion. The answer lies in one of my favorite subjects (just ask my students!) – word choice and grammar. In Hebrew, pasuk 17 declares: Es Hashem he-e-marta hayom lihiyot l’cha l’-l-okim, and pasuk 18 states: V’Hashem he-emeercha hayom lihiyot lo l’am segula.  The two pasukim are mirrors in their language. More than that, however, Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch notes that aleph – mem – reish “in the Hiphil only occurs here (17) and in the following verse (18). In that form it can mean nothing else than to cause somebody else to say something.”

 

Rav Hirsch translates the pasukim as “‘You have brought it about, you have caused it to be said that He must be your God; and God has caused it to be said that you must be an am segula to Him.’  That is to say Israel’s solemn promise to God and God’s pledged Word to Israel has not remained, so to say, a private matter, it has become internationally know, a fact engraved in the mind of the world.”

 

The wording of these two pasukim has intrigued commentators throughout history.  In the sefer Lessons from Targum Onkelos (Vol II), Rabbi Yehoshua Dovid Portowicz explores the translation of these two words by Onkelos, since he used the word chativa in place of he-ehmar. Chativa seems to be a unique word that each commentator understands differently. Rashi, however, explains Onkelos’ word choice as “praise and importance,” although he himself understood the words of he-eh-mar to mean “separated” or “divided.” This separation, according to this understanding, is not between God and Bnei Yisrael, but rather separating Hashem from false deities and Klal Yisrael from the nations of the world.    

The word he-eh-mar comes from the root aleph mem reish, which is the root of the word emor, to say. More than that, Emor is the root of the verb by which Hashem created the world. Once again, we are reminded that words have power, that words make things happen.

 

Rabbi Portowicz does not actually translate the word chativa itself in his analysis of the Onkeles, but rather explores the fact that so many commentators understood it to be a reflection of something that was created. Quite beautifully, the Aruch (Natan ben Yechiel) teaches “in the name of Rav Hai Gaon: “chativah” means  “a special picture.” The lashon he-eh-marta and he-eh-meercha comes from “wool” sewn onto a garment in the form of a picture or letters to decorate it. This indicates something recognizable that there is nothing like it; there is no Gd like Hashem, and there is no nation like Yisrael. The Aruch [says] ‘You made Me one chativah in Olam Hazeh; I will make you one chativah in Olam Haba.’ Hashem will reward us in Olam Haba, middah k’neged middah for being special in Olam Hazeh.”

 

This is reflected powerfully in one of the understandings of the Ohr Hachaim on pasuk 18: “Still another thought which may be concealed in our verse is that Hashem, the attribute of Mercy, will participate in judgment of the Jewish people. While it is true that G'd judges everyone and every nation according to their just deserts, i.e. lihiyot l’cha l’-l-okim, in your case, G'd the merciful will cause the Israelites to say (to acknowledge) that His judgment is fair, i.e. they will bless the Lord even when they experience what appears to them to be a harsh judgment” (Sefaria).

 

These are powerful words to hear before the parsha dives into the devastating Tochacha. Here in the parsha in which we read the dramatically devastating punishments that will befall our nation, we also receive the incredibly important reminder that our relationship with Hashem was forged in the wilderness. He will always be our God; we will always be His nation. The relationship is inseverable.

 

Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas and hoping we all have time to contemplate that what we do with this special relationship is a constantly shifting dynamic. How much we claim Hashem through tefilos and mitzvos and basic ahavas and yiras Hashem is a measure for how much the world can respect us as the Am Segula.

 

Parshas Ki Tetze: We Make Choices

Parshas Ki Teitzei is one of those parshios that discusses a wide variety of mitzvos, and very few of them link together in any way other than that they are commandments we must uphold. Some of the mitzvos appear to be chukim, laws that we cannot understand. Indeed, this parsha includes the mitzvah of shooing away the mother bird, a mitzvah of definite action who purpose is rather mysterious and spiritual.  Other mitzvos, however, are exceedingly practical. For example, it includes both the commandment to maintain a hygienic army camp and the prohibition of withholding or delaying wages from a worker.

 

Included in these mitzvos are several pasukim dealing with the very serious issue of not fulfilling one’s vow. “When you make a vow to Hashem your G-d, do not put off fulfilling it, for Hashem your God will require it of you, and you will have incurred guilt; whereas you incur no guilt if you refrain from vowing. You must fulfill what has crossed your lips and perform what you have voluntarily vowed to Hashem your God, having made the promise with your own mouth” (Dvarim 23:22-24).

 

Making a vow – which can be as simple as stating “I promise to…” -  is incredibly powerful. Each of us, every human being, is btzelem E-lo-kim, made in the image of G-d, and Hashem created the world by speaking. What we say matters…but what about what we do not say.

 

Dvarim 23:23 is a fascinating sub-statement: “Whereas you incur no guilt if you refrain from vowing.” If you don’t vow, you won’t get punished for not fulfilling your vow. That seems a fairly obvious statement, but for all of its simplicity, it is actually a rather powerful reminder. Each of us has control over our words. Each of us has control over our actions.

 

If you don’t want to risk breaking your word, then be careful how you give those words. Indeed, in Sukkah 46b, the sages quote Rabbi Zeira: “A person should not promise to give a child something and then not give it.” His reasoning there is that the child may learn to lie, but underneath is the same foundation – our words matter even in situations where we don’t think they are such a big deal, like promising a child a cookie. That concept then expands to the idea that if you don’t want to risk breaking a Torah commandment, do not put yourself deliberately into a situation where you will come to do so.

 

Most of us are not tzadikim. Most of us find ourselves in situations here or there where we must make an active choice against our personal desires in order to maintain our commitment to being ovdei Hashem. Sometimes, being totally honest, we put ourselves in those situations. Devarim 23:23 is a soft, subtle reminder that we have the power to choose where our actions might lead.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

 

Parshas Shoftim: Seige

 

Dedicated to the refuah shelaima of Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sara bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana.

 

One of the discoveries I made when I began studying Torah as an adult was that war was not something contradictory to Torah - that it is something which the Torah actually commands of us, at appropriate times. To be honest, I remember the first time I truly paid attention to the final chapters of Megilas Esther and realized just how many people were killed and I was truly taken aback. War, it seems, is a human condition that Hashem does not expect people will live without.

 

Why this is so is, perhaps, an impossible question to answer. And there are many life-realities that are discussed in the Torah that we today find difficult to swallow – such as the fact that slavery is not only not prohibited but is regulated within Torah law. It is the tendency of every generation, of course, to believe that they have reached the pinnacle of civilized thought, that they know better then those who came before them, and that they will be able to live differently then the “barbaric” ways of former generations.

 

If only that were so. And if only the world did not see, time and time again, that the Torah’s dictates and boundaries are astonishingly prescient of the needs of the Jewish people

 

War is the subject of the final aliyah of Parshas Shoftim, and it is disturbingly appropriate for the final weeks of 5785. Devarim 20, verses 10-21, discuss some of the most direct laws of warfare. Before attacking a city not within the area which Hashem specifically instructed Bnei Yisrael to conquer, the Israelite army must offer terms of peace. If they do not accept peace and subjugation, the Israelite army should lay siege. In foreign towns, the innocents (women and children) were to be allowed to live, while in the cities of the land, total conquest was warranted “lest they lead you into doing all the abhorrent things that they have done for their gods and you stand guilty before Hashem your God.”  The section concludes with the law not to cut down fruit trees when besieging a city, but trees that do not produce fruit might be cut down.

 

It seems unnecessary to point out the relevance of the laws of siege to current history. However, we might need to remember that the goal of siege is for there to be less warfare and more surrender, and today we have both siege and warfare.

 

Perhaps though, the most important part of Parshas Shoftim is that which comes before the last aliyah, in the first 10 verses of Perek 20. Before the Israelite army goes to war, they are to be addressed by a kohein, who shall say: “Hear, O Israel! You are about to join battle with your enemy. Let not your courage falter. Do not be in fear, or in panic, or in dread of them. For it is Hashem your God who marches with you to do battle for you against your enemy, to bring you victory.” He then calls forth those who can be exempted from armed service, allowing those who are afraid or lacking in faith, to slip away.

 

The first section of Perek 20 drives home several important points. Critical to how we behave is remembering our relationship with Hashem. Our strength comes from our belief in Hashem. Additionally, not forgetting that bein adam l’chavero is almost always as important as bein adam l’Makom, and whether a comrade fights alongside or goes home to his freshly planted vineyard, he is still part of the nation.

 

Here in the month of Elul, as we reflect on that which is important heading into the Days of Awe, we can remember that Am Yisrael’s strength – no matter whether in Israel or in chutz l’aretz – is putting Hashem first in our vision and respecting our brethren.

 

Wishing you a good Shabbas.

 

 

Parshas Eikev: Emunah Now

 It seems to be that this year there has been a surge in the publication of works on Emuna, on faith, and Bitachon, trust in Hashem. The works, both old and new, line display tables of the Jewish bookstores, and it is impossible not to recognize the tremendous need that Jews today feel for connecting to our True Source.

 The topic of emunah in the 21^st century can be complicated. Those of us raised in the mixture of western society know that emunah means far more than faith or belief, even as we live surrounded by a society in which faith and belief are the end goals of religion. Indeed, even in the most recent of movements of wokeism, what you believe is what defines truth. That is not emunah.

 Emunah takes work. That work is defined almost succinctly by Devarim 10:12: “And now, Israel, what does Hashem your God ask from you all, just that you fear with awe Hashem your God to walk in His path and to love Him and to serve Hashem your God with all your heart and with all your soul.” Neither Moshe nor the Torah define this as Emuna, but our tradition teaches us that true emunah and bitachon (faith and trust) in Hashem means knowing that all that Hashem does is for the good and therefore trying to do everything in the way that Hashem wants.

 If the Torah makes clear what we need to do to serve Hashem, why do we need so many books on emunah? Perhaps part of that answer comes from our very human desire to ignore the idea that Hashem created and runs the world on a concept of consequences, on cause and effect. Hashem controls every aspect of the universe (as the parsha also notes: Behold, the heavens to their uttermost reaches belong to your God Hashem, the earth and all that is on it!) but He set that universe up to specific parameters and then set even more specific parameters for the Jewish people.

 This week’s parsha, which talks so much about what Bnei Yisrael must do and feel, is parshas Eikev. which opens: “And it will be the consequence if you obey these rules and observe them carefully, your God Hashem will maintain faithfully for you the covenant made on oath with your fathers” (7:12). Eikev, consequence, that which comes from an action… this is how Hashem created the world. The world has consequences. Emunah has consequences. In the Shaar Habitachon it is pointed out that if a person is determined to believe in the power of money or avodah zarah or even himself, then Hashem allows him to live life with that delusion, allows him to experience the consequence of that false faith.

 When one lives with emunah and bitachon, however, the consequences result not in a demonstration of wealth and glory but in the symbiotic relationship in which a person truly  lives to love and serve Hashem and therefore feels the constant wealth of Hashem’s blessing.

 We today publish so many books on emunah because in the age of technology and in an era of hedonism, those consequences are harder and harder to witness. We live in a time where things seem to be going so very wrong and yet understanding how it is wrong is a critical part of emunah and bitachon. Even in the darkest moments, Bnei Yisrael must hold fast to the fact that “Yet it was to your ancestors that Hashem was drawn out of love for them, so that you, their lineal descendants, were chosen from among all peoples—as is now the case” (10:15).

 This Shabbas, or whenever you can throughout your days, take a moment and think about that most critical relationship. Start with gratitude, with the recognition of what Hashem has provided, and take the steps to let your emunah grow. (There are probably several books I might suggest!)

 We are all works in progress on emuna and bitachon. It’s a journey; it’s work – But it’s worth it.

 Wishing you an uplifting Shabbas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Parshas Va’eschanan: Moshe’s Message Even Today

This Shabbas is known as Shabbas Nachamu after the opening words of the Haftarah, which is a message of comfort after the disheartening observance of Tisha B’Av. Shabbas Nachamu always coincides with the reading of Parshas Va’etchanan, a parsha whose second aliyah is particularly apt for this time of year as it is an emotional roller coaster that is both frightening and comforting at the same time.

 

Va’etchanan continues Moshe’s parting words to Bnei Yisrael, and one can see within his words his deep love for the people he has led. The second aliyah, which is Devarim 4:5-40, begins with a statement of the greatness of Klal Yisrael – a statement that is meant to be an eternal warning and inspiration: “See, I have imparted to you laws and rules, as my God Hashem has commanded me, for you to abide by in the land that you are about to enter and occupy. Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, ‘Surely, that great nation is a wise and discerning people’” (Devarim 4:5-6)

 

The chukim and mishpatim of Bnei Yisrael were Divinely unique in their path to set the nation on track both civilly, morally, and spiritually. The laws were designed to address bein adam l’chavero, bein adam l’atzmo, and bein adam l’Makom. And the laws were given to help Bnei Yisrael become a unique example that people would wish to emulate.

 

Moshe needed the people to know that it is a path of greatness and that it is a path that requires great effort: “But take utmost care and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not forget the things that you saw with your own eyes and so that they do not fade from your mind as long as you live. And make them known to your children and to your children’s children” (4:9).

 

These verses may seem like a continuation of previous admonishments in the Torah, but they are unique because these are not Hashem’s words, these are Moshe’s. The verses within this section of the parsha weave between “I”s and “You”s. When Moshe is telling the people what they should and should not do, it is not a rebuke but a testament of his love for them, his love that came at a tremendous personal cost.

 

“Now Hashem was angry with me on your account and swore that I should not cross the Jordan and enter the good land that your God Hashem is assigning you as a heritage” (4:21). Moshe hurts, emotionally, because he cannot enter the land with the people. But this is not Moshe complaining. This is Moshe trying to make certain that the people before him and the generations to come receive the most important message. Hashem keeps His word, always. Indeed, numerous commentaries discuss why, at the opening of the parsha and here, Moshe claims his punishment is “on your account.”

As summarized on Aish.com: “The Ohr HaChaim takes this same approach to its inescapable conclusion: Had Moshe entered the Land, the Temple would have been built – and could never have been destroyed; such was the spiritual power of Moshe. Had the Jews sinned despite this spiritual center, God would have destroyed the people, while the building [the temple] would have remained standing, intact and unscathed. God did not allow Moshe to enter the Land so that He could take out his "anger" on the building, on the stone and mortar of the Beit haMikdash, rather than on the people who had transgressed. The people would be exiled, not annihilated. Thus, Moshe rightly explains, his own punishment was ‘for your sakes.’”

 

Moshe’s punishment is “on your account” looking forward, not backward. And looking forward, Moshe knows: “When you have children and grandchildren, and are long-established in the land, and you become corrupt and make a sculpted image, the likeness of anything, and do evil in the eyes of God, your God, provoking Him to anger. I call heaven and earth this day to witness against you that you shall soon perish from the land that you are crossing the Jordan to possess; you shall not long endure in it but shall be utterly wiped out from it” (4:25-26).

 

Note the use of the personal pronoun “I.” This is Moshe speaking. This is not Moshe conveying Hashem’s words, but Moshe passionately telling the people that he knows that they will go down wrong paths. He knows because he loves them enough to know that they are not yet where they need to be and he is willing to tell them. It is a statement not a rebuke.

 

Indeed, it is not for no reason that the first five verses of the perek – part of the first aliyah – describe the death of those who sinned and fell to idolatry and immorality at Baal Peor. If even those in the generation of the Midbar could be waylaid… future generations must gird themselves with the knowledge Moshe was imparting that day. The most significant part of which was that even as they falter they must know:

 “But if you search there, you will find your God Hashem, if only you seek with all your heart and soul— when you are in distress because all these things have befallen you and, in the end, return to and obey your God Hashem. For your God Hashem is a compassionate God, who will not fail you nor let you perish; [God] will not forget the covenant made on oath with your fathers.  You have but to inquire about bygone ages that came before you, ever since God created humankind on earth, from one end of heaven to the other: has anything as grand as this ever happened, or has its like ever been known?” (4:29-32)

 

There are so many traps in the world to lead us off our path both as individuals and as a nation. Moshe specifically warns about idolatry because idolatry is cutting ourselves off from our relationship with Hashem, from the deeply personal connection that Moshe is telling us we have. This is why he states: “For your own sake, therefore, be most careful—since you saw no shape when Hashem spoke to you at Horeb out of the fire” (4:15).

 

Parshas Va’etchanan is a parsha that resonates with relatability even in our time. We are no longer in an era of idolatry. We don’t think of statues or stars as divine beings. We do, however, chase after ideas and -isms, unseen idealizations that are equally man made. Hashem may not have appeared in a visible shape, but His presence at Har Sinai was unquestionable. These isms speak of justice and righteousness, but within them is human pretext.

 

More and more we are seeing Jews around the world realizing that something is wrong, that something isn’t working. Those others to whom they turned for guidance still see us as part of a different nation, still want us to earn the title of “great nation is a wise and discerning people,” which Moshe here points out can only be achieved but observing the laws faithfully.

 

It is no small task, but it is a task that Moshe, our greatest teacher, knew every generation would be up for. It is a task – perhaps the task- that must balance our fight for the physical land that we love.

Parshas Devarim – No One Wants War

 

Parshas Devarim – No One Wants War

 

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Parshas Devarim begins Moshe’s presentation of the events that transpired to the Jewish people and the travels they made. It may see strange since that which he describes in the second half of the parsha took place within the last few years, but it is objectively difficult to understand the significance of the times one is living through. Moshe is, therefore, reframing the events – the wars and interactions with the nearest neighbors of the Promised Land – to strengthen the faith of the people before him and to clarify history for the generations to follow.

 

Given that Bnei Yisrael have not yet entered the Promised Land, there is an impressive amount of conquest that occurs in Parshas Devarim. Specifically, Moshe goes into great detail about the wars with the Amorites and the Bashonites, specifically about how powerful they were and how they resided in the lands of giants. Indeed, Moshe even states that the bed of Og, King of Bashan, was “nine cubits long and four cubits wide according to the cubit of the man” (Devarim 3:11). While the detailing of these tremendous victories may have been an excellent pep talk before entering the Promised Land, anyone reading the parsha cannot fail to note that these nations were wiped out completely, “At that time we captured all his towns, and we doomed every town—men, women, and children —leaving no survivor” (2:34). And there is no denying, from a 21^st century perspective, that this is shocking turn of events. It is so shocking a statement that it is easy to forget that Bnei Yisrael did not attack the Amorites, but, rather, they requested safe passage. The response was a full out attack, and the results were as stated above.

 

Bnei Yisrael was not then, nor is it now, a bellicose nation. There is no instance in the Torah before they arrive at the Land of Israel where Bnei Yisrael specifically set out to conquer land. In fact, Hashem was very specific with them about not attacking land that He had promised to other nations such as Edom, Amon, and Moav. It was only once the Amorites and Bashanites attacked that Hashem gave the enemy “into their hands.” And it was only once these nations had been defeated that it was determined to be acceptable for two tribes, upon their own request, to settle there. What Parshas Devarim makes clear is that Bnei Yisrael had one goal, and that was the land that had been promised to and surveyed by Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.

 

Underlying everything that is occurring in Parshas Devarim is the idea of the Divine promise of land. It is a foundational belief of Judaism that Hashem owns the world and determines the specific lands of the nations. Thus, the area of Har (Mount) Seir is specified for Edom and etc..

 

It is nearly impossible to come to Parshas Devarim for a second time during Israel’s current state of war and not use this as an opportunity to make grave political statements about the situation. There is no desire for the atrocities of war – in the wars above and in future wars, utter destruction only came at the command of Hashem. War in the Torah has a goal, and that goal – except for the directives against Amalek – is twofold the protection of the people (thus the Midianites, Amorites, and etc) and settlement of the Promised Land. And even in the wars of conquest yet to come, there were instructions on the means of avoiding utter cruelty.

 

The current situation is incredibly complex. War is a terrible thing, and it is always most cruel and devastating to the one’s least involved in the war itself. We do not have, today, a Divine voice telling us how to finish this war, and so we are left in the human quagmire. What we do know is that defending ourselves to our full strength against one who attacks us is as well-documented in Jewish tradition as the preciousness of the Promised Land.

 

This Shabbas is Shabbas Chazon, the Shabbas preceding, immediately in this year’s case, the observance of Tisha B’Av. On Tisha B’Av, we mourn the loss of the Beis Hamikdash – we mourn the fact that we have to fight for our homeland. We mourn that fact that not only are we at war with another nation, but that that war is a source of battle among ourselves, and divisiveness within ourselves led to the destruction of Bayis Sheini. On Tisha B’Av, we mourn the fact that what we are truly missing in our lives, due to our own foibles, is that clear and precise guidance from Hashem. Beyond peace, beyond returning to our homeland, beyond anything else – this is our greatest sorrow.

 

May this be the last of our years of mourning.

Parshas Matos-Masai: Lessons in Communication

 Warning: This Dvar Torah may upset people with strong feminist views.

 Parshas Matos-Masai begins with a topic that, on first read, might seem troubling to a modern-day woman. After one verse (30:3) stating that a man who makes a vow is required to uphold that vow, the Torah goes into a rather detailed explanation of the vows of women and, some might say, how easily those vows can be nullified.

 Bamidbar 30:4 begins with basic terminology: v’eesha ki tidor neder – If a woman makes a vow… but the first example is quickly explained to be a woman still living in her father’s house for reason of her youth. This woman, living in her father’s house, can make a vow or a self-imposed obligation and must keep it…unless her father objects (30:6) that day. If she has taken it upon herself while single and then gets married, her new husband can nullify that vow (30:9). Verses 11-17 describe the similar rules that apply to a married woman making a vow or a self-imposed obligation but in more detail, details that offer us great insight into the importance of communication in marriage.

 The husband of a woman who makes a vow has the ability to nullify the vow of his wife, but only if he does so within the day of hearing of her vow. This, it should be pointed out, is an interesting use of language. The nullification does not have to occur on the day the vow was made, but rather on the day that her husband learns of the vow. She is not, it appears, under an obligation to tell her husband about her vow, which allows her time to lay down the foundations for him to understand her actions so that when he does learn of them, he will not object.

 The Torah is then very explicit: “If her husband offers no objection from that day to the next, he has upheld all the vows or obligations she has assumed: he has upheld them by offering no objection on the day he found out” (30:15).

 The Torah goes to great length stressing that the husband has one day to object to the vow or self-imposed obligation. If he objects two weeks later, or even two days later, he shall bear the guilt for every time his wife does something contrary to her vow or obligation.

 The Torah wants marriage and family to succeed. It recognizes a dynamic in the pairing of male and female for him to seek a sense of being respect and her to seek affection and “protection” (yes, this is a broad generalization and a far more complicated discussion). The husband is given the role of head of the house because he needs that respect. That role does not mean he is greater/she is lesser. It is practical in that, until most recent history, a man’s role was to be protector and provider. He needed a strong sense of importance to do his job well, a sense of others depending on him. This need has not changed, even in the world of white-collar jobs and two income families. Torah philosophy consistently defines the masculine as the giver, and the giver thrives on being needed and respected for his efforts.

 The feminine, on the other hand, is the receiver and thus the one who feels fulfilled by being given to. These definitions create the dynamic brought to fruition in halacha for a “Head of the Household.” This dynamic is precisely the issue at play in the question of vows, and the unstated solution to a sense of restriction is communication.

 It is easy to see the subject in these pasukim as seconding women, except that there are some very specific words that show it is not about women per se but about a woman’s place in her family. The first halacha stated above is for a woman living in her father’s household due to her youth. This may set off concern to the modern-day reader, but the actuality is clarified in the Shulchan Aruch: “After six months of adulthood (physical maturity as defined by halacha), she is fully independent, and the father no longer has authority over her vows” (Shulchan Aruch Yoreh De'ah 234:1). One could see the time when the father can restrict her vows as the tumultuous time period of early adolescence, which to many parents might make sense.

 Bamidbar 30:10, set in-between the young bride whose husband nullifies vows she made in her youth and the vows of a wife, states: “The vow of a widow or of a divorced woman, however, whatever she has imposed on herself, shall be binding upon her” (30:10). They are the same category as a woman not living under her father’s household.

 A woman is not seen as less capable or less reliable than a man in determining her future. Rather, the Torah is here recognizing that the role of Baal HaBayit (Head of the House) is given to the man. He is set as the captain of the ship so that he may best fulfill his role of giver, as protector and provider. To maintain this dynamic, the Torah restricts ways in which a woman might undermine her husband but, at the same time, limits the ways in which a man might manipulate his wife. And this leaves us at a critical juncture in which reading deeper provides a valuable lesson. If a wife wants to make a vow that will affect the household (and that covers most things since each member of a household is a cog in its functioning), she should discuss it with the head of that household. If a husband does not like changes made by his wife by having taken a vow, he cannot just nullify it once it has been accepted; rather, he must speak to her in order that she agrees to nullify it for herself.

 And, thus, we come to the age old lesson on the importance of communication.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.  

 

 

 

 

Parshas Pinchas – The Power of Standing Up

 Dedicated to a Refuah Shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Parshas Pinchas is a parsha that focuses on bravery and heroism, on stepping forward in order to ensure that the correct path is followed. The greatest heroics in Parshas Pinchas, however, are not the remembrance of Pinchas’ act of casting his spear at the unabashed Zimri and Cosbi. Rather, the greatest act of bravery came from Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza.

 

The story of the daughters of Tzelafchad is well-known. They requested of Moshe that they inherit their father’s portion in the upcoming allotments of the Promised Land. Moshe asked Hashem what to do. Hashem not only stated that the sisters were correct but set out the laws of inheritance to include daughters when there is no male heir. 

 

The sages note that these women were “wise, they are interpreters [of verses], and they are righteous. [That] they are wise [can be seen from the fact] that they spoke in accordance with the moment, (they presented their case at an auspicious time). As Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzḥak says: Tradition teaches that Moshe our teacher was sitting and interpreting in the Torah portion about men whose married brothers had died childless, as it is stated: “If brothers dwell together, [and one of them dies…]” (Bava Batra 119b:).

 

Bamidbar Rabbah 21:11 states: “What was their wisdom? It is that they spoke at that moment when Moshe was engaged in the portion of the inheritances: ‘To these the land shall be distributed’ (Bamidbar 26:53). They said to him: If we are like a son, let us inherit. If not, let our mother be subject to levirate marriage.” If a woman who bore a daughter did not need to go into a levirate marriage, then one could understand that a daughter had rights to inheritance like a son when there is no son.

 

Their claim was not a fancy or a whim but a complex aspect of halacha. Their goal was similar to the goal of the levirate Marriage – that the name of their family would not be lost to history.

 

We don’t often think of something like a legal assertion as being heroic, but what happened with the daughters of Tzelaphchad was as brave as that which happened with Pinchas. Pinchas knew the law and carried out that law by killing Zimri (and Cosbi). The daughters of Tzelaphchad knew the law and stood up to declare that it need to be enforced. 

 

They did something incredibly difficult and brave. They stood up and spoke out for themselves. 

 

This may not seem like such a brave thing, but it is something which should not be dismissed. The other recorded times in the Torah when someone approached Moshe with a challenge or a request things didn’t turn out so well (the spies, Korach, the complainers). The Or HaChaim notes that the Zohar in Parshas Balak comments that the daughters confronted Moshe with others around because they were worried that he would hold a bias against them. He writes: “Why would [women] who have been described as righteous by the Talmud assume that Moshe had hatred in his heart against them or their late father? … It is possible that they were afraid that just as with the people who had complained in Parshat Beha-a-lotcha, as well as the spies who had forfeited their inheritance in the land because they had raised their voices against Moshe and against G'd, Moshe would rule similarly against them on account of the sin of their late father” (Or HaChaim on Numbers 27:2:3).

 

The real bravery was not overcoming their fear of bias, however. Rather it was that these women saw that the law needed to be clarified and they did not leave it for someone else to speak up. Whether we like to discuss it or not, approaching the assembly and appealing to Moshe was entering the realm of the man’s world. In the Jewish world, halacha and its discernment is very much in the man’s realm. They didn’t let that stop them. They knew what their rights were, and they didn’t fall back to thinking of themselves as just helpless maidens or insignificant women. They stood up and put halacha first.

 

Little is known about the individual sisters. However, Hebrewversity .com had this interesting understanding of their names:

“Machla – like the Hebrew verb ‘Le-Cholel’ - which means ‘to move’ (and ‘to dance’ in Modern Hebrew). Noha -like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Nua’ - which means ‘to move’ as well. Choglah  – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Chug’ – which means ‘to circle.’ Milcah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Lechet’ - which means ‘to walk.’ And Tirzah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Rutz’ – which means ‘to run.’

As you probably noticed they ALL have something to do with the concept of ‘moving’ naturally but in Hebrew ALL of these verbs are also connected to the concept of ‘initiating’ or simply ‘be active’ and that was precisely what the daughters of Zelophehad symbolized. (Hebrewversity .com)

 

The daughters of Tzelaphchad  - Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza – moved Klal Yisrael. They refused to be complacent when they knew of a wrong that needed to be righted. They longed to move forward and have their descendants flourish uniquely among the burgeoning nation. And so they took action and Hashem said Kain- yes.

 

May we all have the strength to stand up when it is right and to present our needs calmly and respectfully and may our actions move us and all of Klal Yisrael ever forward. 

Parshas Balak: The Real Evil

 Parshas Balak is, perhaps, the most narratively oriented parsha in Sefer Bamidbar. There are no sections of law nor any descriptions of ritual acts. There is the story of how Bilaam tried to curse the Jews, and, really, that is all.

 The story of Bilaam’s attempt to curse the Jews reverberates throughout history, just as the blessings that came out of his mouth continue to inspire and empower us. As with all of Torah, parshas Balak helps us understand the world a little better – and in this case that means learning more about the insidious nature of our enemies, of the people who hate Bnei Yisrael without even really knowing Bnei Yisrael.

 While reading Parshas Balak, it might be easy to assume the primary enemy of Israel is Bilaam. As wicked as he was, and as desirous as he was to curse Bnei Yisrael, Bilaam was a tool, a weapon…a proxy. Bilaam was the face of evil, but he was in his position because of a puppet master – Balak.

 Balak ben Tzipor’s name is mentioned over and over again in the Parsha, but mostly as he responds to Bilaam. Balak isn’t interesting. He doesn’t actively negotiate, he doesn’t talk to his she-donkey, and he doesn’t speak to Hashem. Nevertheless, the actual enemy  - the one who outrightly seeks to malign the Jews - is Balak ben Tzipor.

 In the year 5785/2025, we can all too well relate the idea of a hidden evil that works through proxies. Money is power. Balak used his wealth to entice Bilaam into action; Iran used their wealth to supply their proxies with weapons. And it didn’t matter how many times God said no or that the proxies were defeated, the enemy does not stop.

 Balak ben Tzipor is not introduced as the king of Moav. This information is only revealed in pasuk daled (4). Rather, the Parsha begins “Balak son of Tzipor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites. Moab became terrified of the people, for they were numerous…” (Bamidbar 22:2-3). There is a man, and there is a people. The man saw that the Amorites had been defeated, and he chose to ignore the fact that the Amorites were the ones who attacked. Bnei Yisrael asked only for safe passage. They were attacked and then they were victorious, and to Balak that was not normal since the Amorites had been powerful enough to overtake parts of Moab. Balak the man saw that this small, wandering nation had defeated Sichon, and he inflamed his nation to fear.

 Balak ben Tzipor was afraid of Bnei Yisrael because he understood that this was beyond natural. Balak was, according to the Midrash, a sorcerer in his own right. Indeed, from his name it is deduced that his magic was connected to birds (Tzipor). Interestingly, in some cases of Biblical word play, it is acceptable to look at a word with a tzadi and read it as a samech, in which case tzipor (bird) becomes sipor – story.  Such a name transformation explains, perhaps, Bamidbar 22:4: “Moab said to the elders of Midian, ‘Now this assembly will devour everything around us, as the work-bull devours the greens of the field.’ Balak son of Tzipor was king of Moab at that time.” But Bnei Yisrael had not gathered on their border with the intention of attacking. They wanted safe passage. Neverthless, Balak ben Tzipor a man with no great strength, was afraid and built a story about these people.

 Balak fed his people a story, which increased their fear: “Moab dreaded the Israelites” (22:3). The Moabites took that fear and brought the story forward such that now the Israelites become devourers… and by the time Balak has sent his messengers to Bilaam, the Israelites are “a people that came out of Egypt; it hides the earth from view, and it is settled next to me” (22:5).

 According to this message, the Children of Israel seemed so numerous that they covered the world. No hyperbole there? The Torah states in 22:1, at the end of last week’s patsha, “The Israelites journeyed and camped in the plains of Moab, across the Jordan River from Jericho.”  They camped; they did not settle. They were on the plains, not covering all of the earth.

 Today, the Jewish population of the world today is 15.7 million out of 8 billion, and still there are rumors and tales that Jews control the world and are everywhere. Our enemy has, in the last 30 years, learned to weave tales and twist truth so that the goal of trying to destroy the Jewish people can continue. The enemy, like Balak, is willing to give away a fortune and to cultivate proxies, and even to bring in weapons of true destruction. In Balak’s case, Bilaam, was that weapon. Bilaam had the spiritual energy comparable to Moshe, so had his curses succeeded, had the real iron dome of Divine will, not interceded, the Jewish people would have been decimated.

 The narrative of Parshas Balak can seem mystical and mysterious and beyond 21^st century standards of what is normal (the talking donkey and all that), but in fact, it is all too familiar a narrative.  We must, therefore, take special care to notice what happens after Bilaam stops attacking the Israelites, for that is where we failed. When Bilaam stopped attacking the Israelites, he suggested taking down Bnei Yisrael on a moral level, which led to the terrible acts at Baal Peor. As we fight our enemies today, let us not forget who we are and what we stand for both during and after the battles that must be won.

 I wish you alla  beautiful and peace filled Shabbas.

Parshas Chukas: Chizuk in Chukas

The Jewish nation has spent the last nearly two years in a high state of alert and war. Those in Israel have experienced what we in the diaspora cannot imagine, and we in the diaspora have tasted much that we had assumed had been expiated by western idealism (snort). Needless to say, perspectives have shifted.

Throughout all of this, we persevere, and now we have come again to a parsha that is laden with history. Parshas Chukas is most famous for its focus on the red heifer. However, other than teaching us, directly, about the importance of observing chukos, laws for which we have no rationale, this parsha contains a fascinating reminder of the national journey and how rarely it was smooth. Taken together, the second section of Parshas Chukas draws a global picture of the challenge of being a nation dedicated to maintaining emunah and bitachon.

Following the precise directions for the service of the red heifer, the parsha records a series of short but detailed events.  Miriam dies, and with her death, the source of water disappears. This brings the first complaints. The cry of the people is answered with a miracle as Moshe and Aaron bring water from the rock. This is followed by their interaction with the Edomites, who are left in peace even after they were inhospitable.

Let us pause and take that apart:

The people were disheartened by the loss of one of their spiritual leaders. They saw the physical effect her death had on their world, and they were shaken. They were unable to see a way to bring back something attached to someone on such a spiritual high; they were unable to envision that they could strive toward such collective merit. They received a miracle, but that miracle came at a price in which they learn that even their greatest can make a mistake. This was followed by a confrontation with an enemy who did not show them respect and from whom they turned away and avoided. And while they went around Edom because Hashem commanded them not to fight with Edom due to their relationship, it felt, perhaps, as if they were avoiding defeat. Certainly, one can imagine, their rerouting around Edom felt like a disheartening delay.

The Torah then continues with Aaron’s less shocking death (less shocking because Hashem prepared the nation that he would be gathered to his fathers). He transfers his office to his son, but his loss is devastating to the people, as was Miriam’s. Shortly thereafter, they are involved in a skirmish with a group whom the Midrash explains were Amalekits dressed as Canaanites. These soldiers of the king of Arad manage to take captive(s) but are then defeated. Regardless of this victory, however, the people complain once again about their lack of provisions – more specifically about their boredom with the manna. The consequence of this complaint – snakes - is also resolved with a miracle, that of Moshe’s snake-enhanced staff that ends the plague per Hashem’s word.

Seen together, we once again see how the loss of a great leader, the trauma that loss causes to the people, is not just on the metaphysical realm, where a channel to holiness has closed, but on the morale of the people as a whole. The first sign of this shift is, interestingly, in the language used to describe the skirmish with the men of the king of Arad:

“Then Israel made a vow to Hashem and said, ‘If You deliver this people into our hand, we will proscribe their towns.’ Hashem heeded Israel’s plea and delivered up the Canaanites; and they and their cities were proscribed. So that place was named Hormah” (Bamidbar 21:2-3).

Why are they making a vow to Hashem, and why one worded like a bargain? Why are they ignoring who they are and the fact that Hashem has promised to be with them. The answer is, perhaps, that they no longer felt certain. They were recovering from the mortality of those who seemed like pillars of existence to them.

When there is a lack of morale, when people are stuck in a “why us” mindframe, there is often a waning of emuna and bitachon. When there is a lack of morale, the people complain: “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water” (Bamidbar 21:5). When there is a lack of emuna and bitachon, the problem goes deeper: “and we have come to loathe this miserable food” (ibid.).

The plague of poisonous snakes that followed was not because they complained of physical discomfort, of being hungry and thirsty. Hashem had heard this complaint before. The plague of poisonous snakes was direct result of the viper of despair that they had allowed to grow within their midst from the death of Aaron.

National tragedies, complaints, wars, and miracles – a rather startling combination repeated twice, repeated throughout history. Alas, within all that is occurring in the third decade of the 21^st century (or the 9^th decade of the 58^th century, depending on the calendar), it seems that Parshas Chukas has great resonance. The question is how we hear it? History may repeat itself, but our response in each repetition is what becomes significant. It is up to us to avoid “vipers of despair,” and to reach for new opportunities to develop a connection to Hashem.

 

Parshas Shelach: Finding Bitachon

The parsha of Shelach is one that reverberates through history. It is, as is commonly known, the source of Tisha B’av, as the day that the Jews cried out their fear of entering the Promised Land was the 9th of Av; and, alas, throughout history, Hashem has given us reasons to feel true sorrow on that day.

Parshas Shelach is a parsha from which one can mine deep hashgafic questions and delve into the relationship of Klal Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael. This year, however, it seems almost cavalier to discuss the situation in Eretz Yisrael, as if it is minimalizing the events taking place, chas v’shalom. However, not noting the important connections to this week’s parsha would, perhaps, be obscuring an opportunity to work on ourselves as individuals and as a nation.

One of the most frequently spoken of lessons from Parshas Shelach is one of distorted reality and the power of language. The scouts returned and described what they saw in such a way as to disparage the land and make it seem as if a terrible fate awaited them. And the nation believed them… and cried… and were punished. We often wonder how this could have happened - how leaders of the shevatim could have forgotten everything Hashem had done for them and seen such a negative space. 

The sin of the scouts has been writ large in 5785. It hasn’t been just our enemies who have vilified klal Yisrael, but our own fellow Jews who have joined rallies that distort reality and spread lies, that repeat old tropes of anti-Semitism in a new light. What started as a sliver of negative voices persisted and grew throughout the last almost 2 years, and it has an effect. Doubt begets doubt; people are drawn to a negative world view and a sense of doom - just look at the news. 

Noticing the effect of these voices, however, is a reminder to Klal Yisrael that our view of the world - of world events and of personal events - should be filtered with the lens of bitachon. 

One of the primary concepts that are drawn from Parshas Shelach is the importance of understanding emunah and bitachon. On the verge of entering the Promised Land, the people asked Moshe if they could send men to scout out the land. They spoke of their motive as a need to know what they would be facing, as a lacking in themselves, but they were projecting. They were not doubting their abilities; they were doubting the divine promise. Their emunah was strong; they did not doubt Hashem as the ultimate power. What was lacking was their bitachon, their belief that Hashem intercedes for them in the common actions of mankind. Bnei Yisrael could believe in miracles, especially after they had lived through so many wondrously- miraculous situations, but they had trouble believing in the continued manifestation of that help. They looked at the world from their perspective only and neglected to remember the basic bitachon. What we perceive as miracles are simply larger demonstrations of what Hashem does every moment of every day of every life. 

This is all too relatable to 5785. In truth, this lesson is relatable in all times - not just in crisis. It is all too common to believe in Hashem and to believe in His guidance of the world, while, at the same time, not truly trusting what the future will bring. Bitachon in its highest practice is understanding that Hashem will make the best future for you (whether it is what you want or not does not always reconcile). We try to view the world as if it is in our control, but far, far greater guidance is always at play.

The world at large wants to believe that they have control, that they have power. They want to attribute their successes to themselves alone (and their defeats, of course, to someone else). Those who have joined the ranks of Hamas supporters, who chant terrible slogans and look the other way, deliberately, at acts of violent anti-Semitism believe the reality they are looking for rather than the reality of Hashem’s world. The scouts came back and reported that the land devoured its inhabitants when, as the Midrash details, Hashem caused illness in the land so that the Cananites would be preoccupied while the scouts were wandering the land. The scouts wanted to have a reason to avoid entering the Promised Land. They were afraid of what the next step in life would be.

It’s possible, even probable, that they themselves did not understand their underlying fears and motivations. We often neglect to analyze our own drives. And it is possible, even probable, that the biggest fear they had was living bitachon. 

Bitachon is the heartbeat of Jewish faith. Accepting that everything Hashem does is for the good is easy in words and much more challenging in thought and action. Recognizing that we must put in effort even as Hashem controls all outcomes is almost contrary to human nature… but that is the work that we all strive to do on ourselves. That is the essence of living Torah. 

The world right now is in a crossroad of upheaval. It feels like so many facets are out of control and misaligned. None of that is by chance. None of that is human doing alone. The lesson we can take from Parshas Shelach is that it is the responsibility of Klal Yisrael, of the nation who has benefitted and continues to benefit, from so many miracles, to look beyond the surface and find the reality of Divine will in our lives. 

I speak this lesson of bitachon to myself as I remind myself that when it is the right time, Hashem will fit all the pieces together for us to be able to bring Shevi home. For now, however, I hope that she can see the miracles involved when Israel is at war.

May this Shabbas be one that brings blessing and peace and hatzlacha to the world and to Klal Yisrael in particular.  

Parshas Behalosecha: The Path was Always Meant to be Hard

 Parshas Behalosecha: The Path was Always Meant to be Hard

 Dedicated with tefilos for the safety of klal Yisrael in this tenuous time, and to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 Do you know what happened on the 20^th of Iyar, the second month of the year when you count from Passover. Before you invest time trying to remember all your high school classes or to rack your brain thinking of a holiday that falls on the 20^th of Iyar, know that it is a date with a rare status. It is in the Torah, but it is not a chag.

 The 20^th of Iyar was the day the Jews left Horev, left the base camp around Har Sinai. It was a big deal. They weren’t leaving Har Sinai with the intent to go wander in the Midbar for 38 more years. They were heading for the Promised Land.

 What is interesting is that the Torah provides us with such a specific date. One might think that it was something we would continue to note, that there would be some spiritual resonance as we see on so many other specific dates. Wasn’t Hashem assembling us and setting us in motion an indication that we were ready?

 Bnei Yisrael probably thought so. They probably thought they had resolved their issues.  I mean, look at the time frame: They had been at Har Sinai almost an entire year, and that can feel like a long time. True, a little over forty days after they arrived they had undone themselves with the Chait Haegel, but there had been repercussions – deaths – and there had been heartfelt teshuva. Moshe had returned again to the mountaintop for another forty days, and thus the first 100 days (roughly, obviously) had passed.

 To a human being, one year (and we see this is less) can feel like an incredibly long period of time. And while research may suggest that it takes two months to form or break a habit, changing deeper personal issues, such as addiction, requires a much longer commitment. Bnei Yisrael’s habits had changed. They seemed more present and capable on the externals because they were more focused on the right actions and goals, but deep down they had not truly repaired their weaknesses. Bnei Yisrael only looked ready on the surface. From the very chapter where we are set in motion, we see the fading of our spiritual resilience. Hardly had the nation set out then the complaints began. Most famously, from this week’s parsha, is the demand for meat. There was literally food falling from the sky and a raucous group of people wanted to know where the McDs was, so to speak.

 So why did we go? Why did Hashem begin the journey since, surely, He understood Bnei Yisrael’s true state? Perhaps the answer is that the journey had to start. Ready or not here I come, as we all say in childhood. You can’t grow if you stay in the same place. You have to take the journey in order to get to the destination. You have to fight your own inclinations in order to really change.

 Moshe, a man, was frustrated and distraught by the continual complaints and weaknesses of Bnei Yisrael, as we see in Bamidbar 11:11-15

Moses said to God, “Why have You treated me, Your servant, so badly? Why have I not found favor in Your regard, that You place the burden of this entire people upon me? Did I conceive this entire people? Did I give birth to them, that You say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom, as a nursing woman carries a suckling,’ to the land You promised their forefathers? Where can I get meat to give all these people? For they are crying to me, saying, ‘Give us meat to eat.’ I cannot carry the responsibility of this entire people alone, for it is too hard for me. If this is the way You want to treat me, please kill me first, if I have found favor in Your regard, so that I not see my evil.”

Hashem’s anger, perhaps, was not at their actions but at the frustration at the fact that so many of them were not doing the necessary internal work that was necessary. He did not care that they wanted meat; He cared that they thought He could not provide it. He cared that they could not see beyond the immediate and the physical when the going got tough – and it wasn’t that tough.

 Thus Hashem declared “Is there a limit to Hashem’s power? You shall soon see whether what I have said happens to you or not!” (11:23). Those words, powerful in the situation at hand, are even more powerful over the resonance of world history. Life, individual and national, was never going to be easy. The need and desire for easy was not how Hashem designed the world. Easy does not lead to appreciation or connection or growth. It leads to apathy.

 Anyone who expects life to be easy has not read the Torah with open eyes. Hashem never promised Bnei Yisrael a walk in the park. It is interesting to note that we see this even in the previous perek when Hashem commands the fashioning of the two silver trumpets and explains that they are to be sounded to bring the people to assemble or to commence the movement of the camp. Then, however, Hashem added that

“If you go to war in your land against an adversary who attacks you, you must blow a teru’ah with the trumpets and be remembered favorably before God, your God, and thus be saved from your enemies. On your joyous days, on your festivals, and on your new-moon celebrations, you must blow a teki’ah on the trumpets, over your ascent-offerings and your peace-promoting feast-offerings, and it will be a remembrance before your God; I am God, your God” (10:9-10).

 There will be war. There will be struggle. But there will be feasts and festivals and joy. This is life. This is the only path to growth, and we, Bnei Yisrael, each have our individual journeys through which we develop our spiritual muscles, and our journey as a nation.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas and hatzlacha on your path of growth.

Parshas Bamidbar: Organizing Ourselves for Society

 Do you get the sense that the world is “messy” right now? Like there was a period, perhaps even less than a decade ago, when it felt like the world was starting to come together as a cohesive-ish unit (okay, barring Israel and the Divinely ordained disconnect), but now everything seems to be breaking down? Certainly, there is a sense from the news (which, of course, loves to poke and enflame problems) that law and order has dissolved in Western Society.

 

This week, we are brought back to Sefer Bamidbar. In English, this sefer is known as the Book of Numbers because it opens with a counting of Bnei Yisrael. The beginning of Sefer Bamidbar is about something incredibly important on a more global scale. The first parsha of Sefer Bamidar is about order.  This week’s parsha not only covers Moshe taking a census (because knowing how many people one has is important), but also appointing tribal leaders, providing placement instructions for each tribe during encampment, and organizing the specific jobs for maintaining the Mishkan.

 

These events, this parsha, is placed in time, according to the Chabad.org source, one month after the inauguration of the Mishkan and several weeks before the Jews will depart from Mount Sinai…” At Har Sinai, our nation was forged into a unit. We received the Torah, and that was wonderful, but we couldn’t move forward in living a full Torah life until we put into place the necessary systems to do so.

 

In just a few days, we will celebrate Shavuos, that holiday the commemorates and celebrates receiving the Torah on Har Sinai. The Torah is a blueprint for living, for fulfilling our spiritual tafkid (purpose). Many mitzvos put order to the spiritual world, but here Hashem made certain that we put order to the physical world of our people as well.

 

It is often said that the politics swings like a pendulum. A leader takes things too far to the left, and the right swoops in to correct. In far too many situations, the swing of that pendulum is extreme. Chaos on the left; Suffocation on the right – And most people, really, just wanting to live in the moderate middle (or a little the right or a little to the left). From Parshas Bamidbar we are reminded that for society to move forward, we must stop and take stock of who we are, organize ourselves for our strengths, choose good leaders, and only then can we begin to move forward.

 

This was short, sweet -  I hope- and probably a little chaotic, but I hope it gave you a sense of connection to the parsha and the times we live in. I wish you all a good Shabbas and a Good Yom Tov.

Parshas Behar-Bechukosai: Be a Mentch

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Sharon bas Shoshana, and Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah

 

Bein adam l’chavero, the mitzvos between one person and another, are the bedrock of civilization. More than that, these Torah’s mitzvos are – to be blunt – fascinating in their constant application to every aspect of life.

 

This week’s parsha, Behar-Bechukosai starts with the laws of Shmittah, during which the Jewish nation demonstrates their deep trust in Hashem and their Divinely imposed respect for the land. It then moves on to the laws of the years of Yuval, Jubilee, and through that discusses the many limitations of selling property in the Holy Land. Basically, in summary, one can really only lease land on a pro-rated scale as it must revert to its original portioning at the coming of the Yuval.

 

Through these discussions of real estate, however, comes the very significant commandment of Al Tonu Eish Et Ahav – you must not cheat one man to another.

 

From here come the laws connected to Onaas Devarim, using words to hurt another. These laws cover such subtle issues as misleading a salesman that you might have the intention to buy something when, in all honesty, you are simply price comparing. You cannot give a fellow Jew the impression that you are going to give them business on false pretext. That, of course, is just one example. The unfortunate “opportunities” for onaas devarim are…multitudinous, almost as vast as the opportunities for lashon harah and rechilus, and the primary reason for this is that most of us have an incredibly difficult time being truly mindful of our speech and actions.

 

The idea of “vexing” – of causing hardship or wrongness – is so important that it is mentioned twice in the same perek, which seems a little odd. In pasuk 14, it says: “When you sell property to your neighbor, or buy any from your neighbor, you shall not wrong one another.” Three pasukim later, in verse 17, it states: “Do not wrong one another, but fear your God; for I Hashem am your God.” This verse uses different language than Pasuk 14. It uses Lo instead of Al. Both are Hebrew words, and both share a basic word meaning foundation (indeed, they are both composed of only an aleph and a lamed), but they are subtly different.

 

In the first verse, it is an immediate command – Al Tonu – Thou shalt not. When you are in the middle of your land deal, when you are thinking about how much profit you can make or what corners can be cut, there is a mandate upon you to think of what is being done to the other person.  

 

In the second verse is Pasuk 17: “Do not wrong one another,” Lo Tonu puts that onus on the person to prepare to avoid ways of hurting others. The first verse could lead one to mistakenly think that this injunction against “wronging” is only connected to business, to real estate specifically, but Pasuk 17 comes to make certain it is clear that it is remembered throughout all aspects of life.

This might leave the question of why there are two pasukim when the second covers it all. This goes back to the subtle difference between al and lo. Al is a reminder in the moment, when an “impossible-to-resist” opportunity is sitting in front of you and you know you can make a clear profit, but that profit will be to the excessive cost to your fellow. That is when you must remember that our goal in life is to emulate Hashem, to do good in the world…not to make the most profit.

 

In the plethora of laws that are laid down in the Torah, simple statements like “Do not wrong one another” are easy to pass over. We read it and almost shrug in our conviction that this is not something that we do anyway. But in our day to day lives, amid the constant navigation of family, friends, community, and business, it is easy to focus on ourselves and our needs. We need to prepare ourselves to not be the type of person who would wrong another and also be prepared to stop ourselves when our needs or our wants push forward against those of another to the point that we might forget our fellowship with them.

 

It is significant to note that the next pasuk says: “You must carry out My rules and safeguard My ordinances and perform them. You will then live on the land securely.” The laws set down in the Torah that seem to be about land or business or rule of law are guidelines and shields to the most important laws that underline the Torah world: Think about the other person. Do not put yourself first. Be a mentch.

 

I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Acharei Mos – Kedoshim: Embrace Life

Dedicated to a refuah sheima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta and Sharon bas Shoshana.

This week’s parsha is Parshas Acharei Mos Kedushim. It is well known that this double parsha has an incredible number of mitvos in it. Many of these mitzvos make perfect sense to us, such as revering our parents and not swearing falsely. Others need a little more explanation. Like most things in the Torah, however, taking a deeper look at these mitzvos, reading the parsha from a different angle – so to speak, provides a new perspective on the world.

 

One law that does not appear to need explanation is “Anyone among the Israelites, or among the strangers residing in Israel, who gives any offspring to Molech, shall be put to death; the people of the land shall pelt the person with stones…” (Vayikra 20:2). Molech was the deity figure of a cultish religion in the region of Israel. The followers of Molech practiced child sacrifice; they sent their children into the flames.

 

It is fair to say that it is inconceivable to us today that someone would sacrifice a child, that people would join a cult that specifically required one to burn a child to death. Children are the future.

 

Actually, Jewish tradition is intriguingly bi-lateral: On the one hand, we believe that our elders and those who came before us are closer to Torah and are to be given absolute respect. As it says, also in this week’s parsha: “You shall rise before the aged and show deference to the old; you shall fear your God: I am Hashem” (Leviticus 19:32).

 

On the other hand…Well, don’t get in the way of a Jewish mother… so many of our halachos are focused on teaching our children and preparing them for the future. Every child is a bracha, a gift from Hashem, so how is it possible that anyone would be tempted to join a cult that glorifies killing children?

 

The answer is zealotry. Misdirected zealotry turns people into monsters. The Torah has made clear that Hashem wants people to celebrate life, not death. And we see this distinction even in modern times. Think of the famous Golda Meir quote: “We will only have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.” Far too many young people have died in the last year and a half conflict, and we – as a nation – grieve every death, even as our enemies embrace it.

 

Zealotry leads one to embrace a death cult; perhaps such drive stems from an insatiable desire to prove one’s fervor, to demonstrate one’s righteousness. Perhaps it is a drive that comes from wanting to experience a tangible sacrifice, something one can always hold on to and announce how loyal one is, what one was willing to sacrifice. Yet, as we learned in the recent parshios and as is vaguely referenced in the title Acharei Mos, Hashem does not want uncalled for offerings.

 

What happens when one “wakes up” from zealotry, when one calms and looks to move forward in life. If one acted like a zealot but followed one’s own council, then the next step might be regret. If one acted like a zealot and offered one’s child to the powerless false god of Molech, then one might feel anguished over the possibility destroyed.

 

And now, if you think about it, it makes sense that the 4 pasukim in Vayikra 20 that are stressing the prohibilion against Molech are followed immediately by, “And if any person turns to ghosts and familiar spirits and goes astray after them, I will set My face against that person, whom I will cut off from among the people” (20:6). We often find connections between side-by-side passukim, so how does turning to ghosts and familiars connect to Molech? Perhaps this pasuk is alluding to causing death and regretting it. Perhaps these two verses are set against each other because when the mania of zealotry comes down, one may be so bereft as to seek out the dead.

 

Interestingly, Vayikra 20:6 is not the only place in the parsha where ghosts are mentioned. Just before the Torah enjoins us to rise before the aged, as quoted before, there is a verse that is oddly similar to Vayikra 20:6. Vayikra 19:31 reads: “Do not turn to ghosts and do not inquire of familiar spirits, to be defiled by them: I Hashem am your God.”

 

The two passukim are remarkably similar. The earlier verse, however, commands one not to consult ghosts or familiars, while the later verse fiercely describes the consequences of doing so. The warning, verse 19:31, precedes the injunction to honor the aged. Together, these two verse could be understood with the message of “Stop looking to those who have passed, to the generations no longer accessible, and see the treasure you have before you in the men and women of age and wisdom.” The verse of consequence, when paired with the warnings against Molech that precede it, is, perhaps, a cautioning from Hashem that their actions are not reversible. Sacrifice is sacrifice.

 

When you put these two topic pairings together, you come up with one definitive fact (other than ghosts are a no-no). Judaism is about life and living. We value life; we value the potential of life in all children, and we value the experience of life in those who have lived longest. The parsha of Kedoshim is a parsha dedicated to being holy - and the way to be holy is to truly live.

Parshas Tazria/Metzorah: Not a Random Interruption

Parshas Tazria/Metzorah: Not a Random Interruption

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Last week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, is weighed down by the distressing details of the death of Aaron’s two sons. While these deaths are dealt with completely in that parsha, it is interesting to note that the parsha we read next week is “Acharei Mot, After the Deaths.” It is not the fact that Nadav and Avihu’s deaths were significant enough to mark a time connection that is particularly interesting, but rather it is the fact that Shemini and Acharei Mot are separated by two parshios (that are generally read as one). Perhaps, there is something to be learned from these two parshios breaking the narrative of the deaths and the divine instruction that follows thereafter.

 

The first of these parshios is Tazria, and the primary subject matter of Tazria is the diagnosis and “treatment” of tzaraas. In reading the biblical description of the disease, it seems almost strange that this was consistently translated simply as leprosy since there are so many permutations of the ailment. More importantly, tzaraas is not a medical condition; it is a unique spiritual malady with an underlying pathogen that is actually a disease of the tongue - lashon harah (Though, to be fair and honest, there are other aveiros that are connected to tzaraas as well). The treatment for tzaraas is isolation and repentance, because this is how one begins to repair - to whatever extent it is repairable - the discord sown by lashon harah.

 

Parshas Metzora, the second parsha, continues the topic of the resolution of tzaaras and also discusses the transference of the marks of tzaraas from a person to an inanimate object and how to deal with it.  One of the correlations of tzaraas and lashon hara is the factor of pride, of ego. Lashon Harah most often stems from our need to feel more significant than someone else, or, said more succinctly, to put others down. 

 

So now back to the original question. Why does the narrative of the inauguration of the Mishkan, the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, and the aftermath commandments of Hashem have tzaraas interrupting it? Perhaps it has to do with Hashem knowing how humanity works. Here in the Torah is a story that is ripe for the picking for lashon harah. These men were struck down in front of the entire congregation. Everyone witnessed their ‘sinning.’ Everyone witnessed their consequence. Public information, right?

 

Wrong. Discussing what happened to Nadav and Avihu is important because we are meant to use every part of Torah to grow, spiritually. Speculating on salacious details because they are interesting or they are relatable, however, is no longer l’toeles. Let’s be honest with ourselves, there are a wide range of Torah based suggestion to what Nadav and Avihu did that day… and there is a reason that the most widely remembered is that they were drunk.

 

Tazria-Metzora is followed by Parshas Acharei Mot, which begins: “Gd spoke to Moshe after the death of Aaron’s two sons, when, having drawn near to Gd, they died. Gd said to Moshe: ‘Speak to your brother Aaron, and tell him that he must not come whenever he wishes into the Sanctuary beyond the partition Curtain…’”

 

After the completion of the inauguration, Hashem provides Aaron with instructions on proper etiquette in the Mishkan. The Torah demonstrates learning from what happened without hashing it out to pieces.

 

If you think about it, the placement of Tazria-Metzora – parshios in which the dangers of lashon hara is a constant theme - in the middle of the story of Nadav and Avihu is brilliant. There are few other such places in the Torah where there is wrong-doing and consequence, and yet, respect for the righteousness of those who received the consequence all at once. The sages have made many postulations as to what Aaron’s sons were punished for, and those discussions were l’toeles, to provide guidance for Bnei Yisrael. But how easy is it to descend into that which is not l’toeles when speaking about them possibly being drunk, or etc? But how easy is it to descend into that which is not l’toeles when speaking about anyone?

 

This sequence of parshios certainly reminds us of the complexities of life. What one sees on the outside is not necessarily what is truly involved. A person covered 100% from head to toe with a skin affliction, who would appear to be the loudest billboard for his own guilt of something, is not a metzorah. Life is not always how it looks, so don’t speculate on the lives of others.

 

Life is a constant path through other people’s actions. We can choose to watch them and judged them and make assumptions about them, or we can choose to accept that Hashem is the king and the ultimate judge. 

Parshas Shemini: Death with Meaning

This week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, contains one of the most unsettling narratives in the Torah: The death of Aaron’s sons. The parsha describes the activities of the inauguration of the Mishkan on the eighth day after its completion. In the middle of the long inauguration service, Aaron’s sons, “Nadav and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Hashem foreign fire, which had not been enjoined upon them.” (Vayikara 10:1). Their motivation is examined and discussed by the sages and throughout the commentaries of all ages. There are those who condemn them for levity or intoxication, and there are those who focus on their misplaced inspiration. Whatever the reason for their bringing an offering that had not been required, the result was the same: “And fire came forth from Hashem and consumed them; thus they died before Hashem”(10:2).

It is obvious why this story is upsetting. Aaron’s sons died - publicly, dramatically, and in the middle of the most auspicious ceremony Klal Yisrael had endeavored upon. Even more discomforting for many people is the fact that Aaron and his two remaining sons could not stop the inauguration and absorb their shock. They had to go forward and complete the inauguration before reacting to the loss of their immediate family members, which is odd in itself because in Jewish tradition the death of an immediate relative puts one in a state of limbo until the burial of the body as soon as possible. 

Jewish tradition has one of the most comprehensive and compassionate rituals of mourning. From the period of aninus, when a person is not required in mitzvos until the burial of the dead and official start of mourning, through the staggered stages of shiva, shloshim and the annual yahrtzeit, the mourning is guided. While these practices seem to be primarily for the emotional benefit of the immediate family, they are understood to benefit the neshama as well. 

Surely, Nadav and Abihu had not erred to such a level that their deaths should be ignored. Surely, their father and brothers felt the pain of loss that is at the heart of the state of aninus. 

Beyond the fact that Aaron, Elazar, and Itamar were in the middle of invoking kedusha into Mishkan, there was something unique about Nadav and Abihu’s passing. Let us look again at the final phrase of 10:2 - “vayamootu lphnei Hashem - and they died before Hashem”(10:2).

Hashem sent a fire that consumed them, which is a pretty definite statement of their being killed. Why does it need to state that they “died before Hashem,” which is not common phraseology at all?

This question is mulled over by many commentators, as is what it meant exactly that they were consumed. For instance, Chizkuni notes:

וימותו לפני ה, “They died in the presence of the Lord. [This is an unusual expression. Are we not all, at any given moment, “in the Presence” of the Lord?] Rabbi Eliezer says this expression teaches that they did not die until having left the sacred precincts and being in the antechamber where Levites were permitted. We have proof of this from verse 4 where the cousins of these brothers, by the names of Mishael and Eltzafan were charge with removing their bodies from there for burial. But why did the Torah say that they died before the Lord (i.e. inside the Tabernacle)? Perhaps they did die there but later an angel pushed the bodies outside to where the Levites were permitted. Rabbi Akiva on the other hand said that they did die inside the Tabernacle. Since they were still wearing their garments which had not been burned by the heavenly fire, their cousins hooked their spears into the outer garments and dragged them until they were outside the sacred parts of the Tabernacle.

 

This is a very practical exploration of the language, but there is a spiritual side as well.  Nadav and Abihu were killed because they acted of their own accord. They brought incense when it wasn’t specifically called for during a very detailed inauguration. Their intention was to honor Hashem, to celebrate Hashem. There was no intention of disrespect or mockery or even vanity. They truly wished to draw closer to Hashem, as is understood by the majority of the commentaries. 

During the inauguration of the mishkan, it was incredibly important, however, that the nation not be shown a hefker observance, an anarchy of emotional reaction of set structure. The Mishkan, the place of ultimate holiness and service to Hashem, had to be respected completely, and on this first day of usage, the point needed to be driven home that their “inspiration” did not negate rules and order. 

On the other hand, their death was, perhaps, an embrace of Hashem. As Rabbeinu Bahya notes ”…The kind of death described here by the words ‘in the presence of the Lord’ means that their body and soul underwent a ‘surgical’ separation, the fire entering their bodies through their nostrils separating soul from body. We must be careful not to understand the verse as saying that their souls were burned, i.e. that they lost their claim to the hereafter. If that were so the words, “by those very close to Me I become sanctified,” which Moses told Aaron in G’d’s name, would not make any sense. Why should the souls of people G’d describes as close to Him be destroyed, burned?”

As humans, as survivors, as the ones who are left behind after a death, we have a hard time seeing the positive for the neshama. We are focussed on what we have lost. Protecting life is the ultimate goal - the primary instinct is, afterall, the survival instinct - because only in life can our neshama grow and flourish. The more our neshama can grow here in Olam Hazeh, the more it will be able to receive the Divine presence in Olam HaBah, and so we focus on the potential of life without, usually, remembering that death also frees the neshama from its battle, or better competition, with the goof, with one’s physical needs and desires. 

When reading parashas Shemini, our immediate reaction is based on our mindset of death as a complete negative. Perhaps, however, from the words that tell us that Nadav and Abihu died before Hashem we are reminded that death is the doorway to a higher plane of existence (when we are ready, ad mesh v’esrim for each of you who reads this!)

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas.