Parshas Ha'azinu: Non-god and Non-people

It is a basic, Jewish theological tenet that the Torah contains everything that has or will happen to the Jewish people. Commentators often point out the odd double language in last week's parsha, hestair astaire panai - I will shortly hide my face - as an allusion to Purim, or the fact that the 25th word in the Torah is ohr, light, and the miracle of Chanukah occurred on the 25th of Kislev. All the more so, it is almost impossible to read the descriptions of Hashem's intended punishments for straying from our relationship with Him, recorded in multiple parshiot, and not see how it has come to pass. The Torah is more than a history book, it is a blue print of history.

Parshas Ha’azinu is almost completely a transcription of the song that Moshe wished the Jewish people to transmit to each of the coming generations. The song ends with redemption, with Hashem stepping in and destroying Israel's enemies. Before that, however, there is a great deal of rebuke-filled prophecy of the times when Bnei Yisrael will fail, will desert Hashem and go in foreign ways.

The Torah uses a wide variety of terms to describe the false gods that might lure Bnei Yisrael, such as asherah, pesel, matseva, elohim, and etc. However, in Parshas Ha’azinu, one finds a fascinating and unique set of terminology: “They provoked Me with a non-god, angered me with their vanities; so shall I provoke them with a non-people, with a vile/foolish nation shall I anger them” (Devarim 32:21). The unique language here is the “non-god,” in Hebrew b’lo-el, which is parralleled by the non-people, b’lo-am.

Perhaps this is the Torah's subtle reference to the Jewish dilemma of the 21st century. We are not being enticed by idolatry. The church is no longer trying to lure in unsuspecting Jews, as it did for many centuries. We are not being threatened with death to force us to convert. In our era, an era that would feel very foreign philosophically (since technologically this would be an obvious statement) to anyone transported from even the 19th century, we must survive something completely new. Bnei Yisrael must maintain our covenant with Hashem in a world that might invoke the “name of the Lord” but whose general idea of religion seems empty compared to era's past. We live in a generation that celebrates "b’lo-el."

And who shall provoke us in this era according to Ha’azinu? B’lo-am, a non-people, which some might say is becoming a definition of North American life where the very ideas of Jewish community, nationality, and unity are being pushed to the side for the rights of the individual. Rashi comments on the phrase “with a vile/foolish nation shall I anger them,” saying: “these are the ‘Minim,’ the heretics. So indeed, it states, (Psalms 14:1) ‘The heretic (נבל) hath said in his heart There is no God’ (Sifrei Devarim 320:10; Yevamot 63b).” And Sforno explained that it referred to a people “possessing neither their own language nor alphabet (Gittin 80)."

So much text in the Torah is dedicated to reminding Bnei Yisrael to stay away from idols or false gods that some might see the growing lack of religion among American youth as a blessing, the dissolution of a threat. But now we can see that this very situation is also warned about in the Torah, and what follows, the Divine retribution that is then described, is terrible. Fire, famine, and general disaster, because falling victim to a theology of b’lo-el is just as terrible as worshipping false gods.

It is commonly understood that we today stand in the shadows of the end of days. It is newly 5,782 on the Jewish calendar and the world as we know it is set, according to tradition, to last until the year 6,000. It is therefore, perhaps, not surprising that the description of the dangers of being enticed by a culture of b’lo-el and b’lo-am is found only here, at the penultimate parsha of the Torah. The song of Ha’azinu is the last thing that Moshe taught the Jewish people, after teaching them this song, he blesses the people and is gathered unto his fathers, as it says, and Joshua takes his place to lead the people forward. Ha’azinu is the song that Moshe wished the people to pass down for generations, so that we today could know that this too was foretold.

Our struggles, our downfalls, and our suffering are the result of cause and effect. Alas, we are victims of our own doing. Parshas Ha’azinu, however, gives us something more than hope. It assures us that while our downfalls may be harsh (ok horrible), Hashem is ready and waiting with our salvation.

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Dovid Chaim HaCohen ben Tzipora

Parsha Vayeilech: It Might Be My Fault

The human gift for rationalization is a common topic for divrei Torah during the month of Tishrei, during the weeks when the Children of Israel even today spend time in self reflection and teshuva (repentance). Rationalizing is one of the great tools of the yetzer hara (the evil inclination) in that it is the most natural path for convincing oneself that what is right is wrong and what is wrong is right, or even that something is not quite such a bad thing to do. It is a tool that goes hand in hand with shedding accountability, with an inclination to blame.

On a national level, these behaviors have been at the heart of our people’s greatest downfalls, and we were well and truly warned that this would be so. In Parshas Vayeilech, Hashem calls Moshe to the Tent of Meeting to begin the process of Moshe’s end. Hashem tells Moshe quite clearly that when he is gone, the people will go astray. Not only will they look to foreign gods, but Hashem forecasts that “they will forsake Me and break My covenant that I made with them. Then My anger will flare up against them, and I will abandon them and hide My countenance from them. They shall be easy prey, and many evils and troubles shall befall them. And they shall say on that day, ‘Surely it is because our God is not in our midst that these evils have befallen us’” (Devarim 31:16-17).

Reading this verse, one might be astounded at the chutzpah, at the very idea that they who turned aside from Hashem’s ways could then blame their woes on the absence of Hashem’s presence among them. But this is the yetzer hara. This is human nature’s self-defense mechanism protecting the psyche. No one likes to admit when they have caused their own misfortune.

It is interesting to note how wordy verse 17 is. There are 15 words before the people’s reaction (And they shall say…), which is longer than most single pasukim in the Torah. Here too is an allusion to this being more than a happenstance reaction. Hashem is showing the mechanism of the yetzer harah’s tools. Between “they will forsake Me and break My covenant that I made with them” and the people’s complaint of abandonment, there is a lengthy description of God’s reaction – lengthy in particular since the promise of His anger has been described before. Herein is the explanation of how we so easily externalize fault because if there is any delay in the cause and effect, then we often choose to be blind to the connection.

The end of verse 17 should really state “Surely it is because our God hid himself from us when we did not follow His ways that these evils have befallen us.” The lesson here is perfect for this time of year, for the Aseres Ymai Teshuva (the Ten Days of Repentance). How did our choices bring us to the point where we could or did do those transgressions for which we need to repent this year? There is no time like the present, when we are striving to recognize, confess, and repair our actions that have been cutting us off from our connection to the Divine, for us to really stop and determine our own role in the challenges that we face.

 

Elul 2021 - Learning from the Women of Rosh Hashana

 This year I dedicate my Dvar Torah to my amazing sisters, none of whom are biological but all of whom have given me so much helpful love and support.

 

In honor of these wonderful ladies, this Dvar Torah will focus on the women of Rosh Hashana. It is interesting to note that when the sages chose the portions of the Torah and the Neviim to be read on Rosh Hashana, the primary focus, specifically on the first day, is on women. The Haftarah of the first day, the story of Chana, is commonly discussed in its connection to the holiday, but if you ask most people what the Torah portion of Rosh Hashana is, the response is the Akeidah. However, the Akeidah is not read until the second day of the holiday and the first day is the narrative of Sarah and Hagar.

 

While there are many explanations of why these portions were chosen, what stood out to me was that in studying Sarah and Hagar and Chana and Penina, we discover a stunningly complex portrait of human emotions. This could be said about many places in the Torah, but the emotions in these portions contain important lessons to us as we face these auspicious days each year. Let us look at them each more closely:

                                 

Penina: As it is written in the text of Shmuel, Penina is a minor but greatly flowed character. She was Elkana’s other wife, who had proven herself quite fruitful (10 children) and who is noted for having taunted Chana “Moreover, her rival, to make her miserable, would taunt her that the LORD had closed her womb. This happened year after year: Every time she went up to the House of the Lord, the other would taunt her, so that she wept and would not eat” (Shmuel I 1:6-7). The Midrash tells us, based, perhaps, on the fact that the text highlights that she did this most when they went up to the House of the Lord, that Penina taunted Chana with the intention of pushing Chana to pray.

Regardless of her intentions, she caused Chana tremendous amount of pain. Eventually, the blessing (her 10 children) which she had wielded as a cudgel became the source of her sorrow as, also according to the Midrash, they perished parallel to Chana’s own growing family. It took the death of eight of her children for her to gather herself and seek out forgiveness from Chana, which she was immediately given.

Rosh Hashana is the Day of Judgement, but it is also the day on which we coronate the King of kings. We do so by acknowledging that God is omniscient and omnipresent, that God knows what each of us needs and when. Had Penina simply loved her children and appreciated her own blessings, rather that use her blessings as a way to taunt Chana, then no consequence would have ensued. Yes, she should have encouraged Chana to pray, but flaunting her own bounty was not the appropriate way to do so. Rather she should have separated the two actions, encouraged Chana to pray and loved her children to raise them up in the ways of Hashem. In this way she would have demonstrated her true gratitude to the King of kings.

Hagar: Hagar is one of the most complex characters in the Torah. It is easy to see her as bad because it is human nature seeks a villain to contrast our heroes, but the truth is never that simple. We are first introduced to Hagar when she is presented to Avram for a wife to bear children by Sarai. The Midrash tells us that she was from the royal court of Egypt and that she chose to be a handmaid to Sarai because she was aware of the uniqueness of Avram and Sarai. When she becomes pregnant immediately, the relationship of Hagar and Sarai devolves. She was rude and arrogant to Sarai, and Sarai was cruel to her. Eventually Hagar fled and was then sent back by an angel. She loses that baby but quickly becomes pregnant again, gives birth to Ishmael, and all seems fine for many years until they are sent away by Avraham at Sarah’s insistence. In the wilderness into which they wandered, Hagar gives up on her sick child, lays him by the well, and sits down to cry. While the Torah states that God hears the cries of the boy, He responds to Hagar and promises her that he will live and thrive.

Although some criticize Hagar for giving up on her son, for placing herself far from him when she expected him to die, this story also teaches us about tears. It is ok to cry. On Rosh Hashana, as we stand before the King of kings and we wish to beseech him for help, it is ok to cry. It is ok to ask. And when we ask, miracles can happen. This seems like an obvious message, but if many people are like me, this is far more challenging than it seems. In our culture today we are taught not to ask for help, to be strong and available to help others. But when things get tough… it is more than ok to cry.

Sarah: Sarah’s emotions throughout her long involvement with Hagar are quite fascinating. She must have had some level of trust and appreciation for her handmaid to choose her as a second wife for Avram, to choose her to be the one to have a child, and yet once Hagar is pregnant, it causes her a tremendous amount of pain. It was probably not just Hagar’s behavior, her loftiness, that led Sarai to afflict her, but a level of pain sourced from her own burning desire to have a child. The Torah makes is clear, however, Sarai treated Hagar so harshly that Hagar fled. Once she returned, however, we hear no more of the dynamics between the two women. When Sarah tells Avraham to send her and Yishamel away, it comes from a place of rational thought, the result of her observations of Yishmael’s behavior and not from animosity toward Hagar.

Rosh Hashana is the beginning of the Aseres Ymai Teshuva, the ten days of repentance. Studying Sarah’s behavior in regards to Hagar demonstrates how one can actually be successful in the hardest part of the act Teshuva, not repeating the same mistake. This might sound surprising since it appears that Sarah very much mistreats Hagar a second time, but the two stories only seem similar until one reads them closely. One can assume that Sarah never “warmed” back up to Hagar. One can only imagine a strained relationship. But Sarah does not appear to afflict her maid servant further after she returns and gives birth to Yishmael. She keeps them with the camp even after she has born her own child. As we enter the days of Teshuva we can learn from Sarah the simple message of you can do better.

 

Chana: There is not much to say about Chana and Rosh Hashana that has not already been written somewhere and so I will simply add here the words from the commentary of Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch that I found so powerful:

“Thus the picture of Hannah, enduring, wishing, hoping, self-examining, praying, comes before our mental eye on Rosh Hashana, and wishes to lead us out of the tangled turmoil of our lives thither where peace and tranquility beckons to us too. Accordingly, her words sound warningly (2:3) how God tests our real feelings, and “how each single deed is reckoned up by Him,” hence the importance and responsibility of every single person; and then refers, (verse 6) to the vicissitudes of the external circumstances of life and declares how it is always the same God of Love (Hashem) Who reveals Himself in every phase of fortune…”

In addition to teaching us how to pray and teaching us faith in the continued hopes that our prayers will be answered positively, Chana’s prayer reminds us that everything – EVERYTHING – comes from Hashem.

Last year we stood on the threshold of Rosh Hashana and the universal prayer seemed to be that the next year would be better. Alas, that same sentiment pervades today as in addition to the challenges of the Pandemic (different as they are in each location and every situation), the strife and struggle of the world seems only to be increasing. On a personal level, I look toward Rosh Hashana just a few hours away and I wonder what it is that I should daven for exactly… my own personal struggles – unexpected, unwanted, and, as yet, unappreciated – have left me grappling with a need to understand. But when I look to the women of Rosh Hashana, I see a path to help me forward – appreciate my blessings, let myself cry out my pain to Hashem, work hard to do better in my most challenging situations, and know that everything – the good, the bad, and the ugly – is part of Hashem’s plan.

I wish you all a Shana Tova. I cannot express enough my gratitude to Ruthie and Caryn for continuing this program year after year and my admiration for each woman in participating.

 

I will let you know later where I give tzedakah today.

 

Parshas Ki Tavo: Of Course You Need A Basket

Parshas Ki Tavo begins with the mitzvah of Bikkurim, the offering of the first fruits. It is not the first time that the mitzvah of Bikkurim is mentioned in the Torah, but it is the only section in which the ceremony is described in detail. The specifics - taking one’s first fruits of the Promised Land to the Kohein in the House of the Lord and reciting a special declaration – are generally well-known from the holiday of Shavuos and from the annual reading of the Bikkurim declaration as part of the text of the Haggadah. Familiar as the mitzvah may be, there is always something new to be found in the familiar words of the Torah…

The mitzvah of Bikkurim is introduced thus: “When you enter the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a heritage, and you possess it and settle in it, you shall take some of every first fruit of the soil, which you harvest from the land that the Lord your God is giving you, put it in a basket and go to the place where the Lord your God will choose to establish His name” (Devarim 26:1-2).

Bringing the first fruit of the harvest makes sense as an offering; it is almost instinctual. In fact, the very first offering to Hashem was an offering of produce brought by Kayin the son of Adam, who was a farmer (as opposed to Hevel, who was a shepherd). While the requirement of a fruit offering is logical, the wording of the pasuk itself is odd in that it in includes the instruction v’samta va’tene, and you shall place them in a basket. Once might assume, and perhaps it was so in practicality, that one would buy a nice basket in Jerusalem (or close to the designated spot before the Beis Hamikdash was complete). But the pasuk is rather straightforward – “You shall place it in the basket and [THEN] you shall go to the place.”

 The question here is why is it necessary to include an instruction to put the fruit in a basket? Since no one was walking to Jerusalem holding a collection of figs in their hands, it seems obvious that the fruit needs to be put in something. So here we learn that the Bikkurim are not just to be put in any vessel on hand, but specifically in a Tene.

This term, tene, is found 4 times in the chumash, and all of them are in Parshas Ki Tavo – twice in perek 26, in the direct commandment, and twice in perek 28, as part of the blessings and the curses and as an obvious reference to the harvested first fruits. It is therefore apparent that a tene is a rather unique basket. By definition, according to the sages, it was a fairly simply basket woven together from willow branches. Taking an esoteric turn, one might note the oddness of the shoresh (root of the word) Tes – Nun – Aleph, since words that start with Tes are uncommon, as are words that end with Aleph, and one might notice how these three letters are all firmly rooted to the ground, like a tree.*

The inclusion of the instruction to place the fruit in the tene tells us that there is significance to this act in and of itself. Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsh comments, based on Sifri, that by placing that bikkurim in a basket specifically created for this demonstrates that these fruits are to be transported elsewhere.  Rabbi Sholom Wineberg, based on the teaching of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (on Chabad.org), notes that the nature of the tene limits the amount of fruit that one can bring, which reflects  the Baal HaTurim’s discussion that since the numeric value of the letters of tene add up to 60, one should bring 1/60^th. Finally of interest here, Chizkuni comments that one adds dignity to carrying the fruit on the pilgrimage by carrying it in a special container.

 While the tene may have been intended as a simple basket of woven willow, the Mishne describes the ceremony thus: “The rich would bring their bikkurim in baskets overlaid with silver or gold, while the poor used wicker baskets of peeled willow-branches, and the baskets and the bikkurim were given to the priests” (Mishnayos Bikkurim 3:3). It starts with a simple basket made of willow in which to carry the fruit and then, in time, the baskets get fancier until eventually those who can (or think they can) are bringing baskets covered in silver and gold. Whether the intention was the honest desire to enhance the mitzvah or a more selfish urge of one-upmanship, the fancier baskets actually changed the ceremony, as described in Talmud Baba Kama 9a, where it notes that when the Kohanim were given the bikkurim of the wealthy, they returned their baskets to them, but when they received the baskets of the poor, these baskets were kept.

 One might go back to simple wordplay and note how similar in sound tene (Tes-Nun-Aleph) is to the command form of the word Give, Ten (Taf-Nun). The silver and gold overlay ultimately kept one from giving the entire offering to Hashem, since it says: “You shall go to the priest in charge at that time and say to him, ‘I acknowledge this day before the Lord your God that I have entered the land that the Lord swore to our fathers to assign us. The priest shall take the basket from your hand and set it down in front of the altar of the Lord your God” (Devarim 26:3-4). The Kohein is meant to take the basket too, but such an enhanced basket is no longer its pure natural element. It is less connected to the offering which it carries.

 As we approach the High Holidays, perhaps there is a lesson that we can take from the mitzvah of bikkurim and the history of this uniquely named basket. On the Yomim Noraim (the Days of Awe), we bring ourselves before Hashem. Now is not the time to overlay ourselves with silver and gold, either physically or spiritually. Enhance the Yom Tov by dressing nice, but not for a fashion show. Prepare yourself for the Yom HaDin (Day of Judgement) by coming forward honestly, not with your actions overlaid by pretty rationalizations.

 The mitzvah of Bikkurim is one which we can only complete in the Promised Land in the days when Hashem once again choose a place to establish His name (bimhera b’yameinu/speedily in our days!) But the lessons we can take from the mitzvah are with us every day.

 

*There is a fascinating discussion of the etymology of the word, perhaps it even being an Egyptian word, but Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein once could read here: https://ohr.edu/yhiy/article.php/8981?showobject=1

 

Parshas Ki Tetze: Taking One’s Own Measure

We are now halfway through the month of Elul, the month of preparation for the Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashana – head of the year – is, in truth, a misnomer that downplays the importance of the day. There are several “new years” on the Jewish calendar, but there is only one Yom HaDin, Day of Judgement, and it is for the Yom HaDin that we prepare throughout the month of Elul.

Preparing during Elul means different things to different people – hopefully more than just the cleaning, cooking, and shopping that the holiday season inspires. Some people begin the process of Cheshbon Hanefesh, of taking an accounting of their souls and reviewing their behavior over the course of the last year. Others focus on the future and begin to create lists of actions or character traits they wish to improve on in the year to come. There are, of course, those who stop to calculate how “good” or “bad” the year that past has been to them, and there are those who waste time worrying of who should be seeking them out to ask for Mechila (forgiveness).

Overall, though, the month of Elul is when Jews around the world focus on teshuva, repentance, and it is no surprise that one can find inspiration and direction on this process from the words of the parsha. This week is Parashas Ki Tetze, which covers a tremendous amount of halacha, listing most of the laws in a rapid-fire style and leaving deeper explanations for the Oral Torah.

Parashas Ki Tetze concludes with the commandment to remember the actions of Amalek, the nation who dared to attack the Israelites immediately after they exited the Yam Suf, theSea of Reeds and whom the Jewish people are commanded to destroy. One interesting aspect of the discussions of Amalek is that some commentators compare Amalek to the Yetzer Harah, the evil inclination, and see the commandments to annihilate Amalek as an injunction to constantly work against our natural desires that go against the moral fiber and the basic mitzvot of the Torah. It is no easy task, and it is a task in which every person must engage every single day.

Before the Torah speaks of Amalek, however, it addresses an important halachic situation that appears to be only randomly connected to remembering what Amalek did. In fact, it appears to be completely commercial in nature, and yet could, like the command to wipe out Amalek, be instructions for deeper moral fortitude: “You shall not keep in your pouch two different weights, one large and one small. You shall not keep in your house two different measures, one large and one small. You shall have a dull and honest weight, a full and honest measure, in order that your days will be prolonged on the land which the Lord your God gives you. For whoever does these things, whoever perpetrates such injustice, is an abomination to the Lord your God” (Devarim 25:13-16).

At face value there is absolutely no question that this section of the parsha is talking about fair commerce and making certain that there is not even a hint of dishonesty in one’s business. However, if one would find a theme in the preceding sections of Perek 25, it would be the avoidance of embarrassing another person. Indeed, the very first law, which is against adding any lashes to a flogging punishment, concludes “lest … your brother be degraded before your eyes” (25:2).

So how does a prohibition of uneven weights and measures connect to avoiding the embarrassment of another and the war against Amalek? And how does any of this tie into Elul?

One of the greatest challenges of human nature is judgementalism. On a developmental level it is necessary to study the behaviour of those around us and even to categorize behaviours as good and bad. But most often we go far beyond judging a behavior and judge other people as good and bad. Once we are busy weighing the actions of other people and measuring their value, then we must remember these pasukim (verses). How often do we live by a double standard – judging others for actions that we ourselves have, at other times, done? How easily do we criticize a neighbor or even a loved one for behaviors that in our own selves we excuse and rationalize? How common is it to publicly raise an eyebrow over someone else’s life only to close one’s door and act in the very same manner?

It is said that one of the reasons Amalek is considered evil is because they represent the belief in happenstance and chaos over the belief in Divine intervention. When we believe that we have the right… when we believe that we have the ability … to judge another person’s actions (especially when those actions have nothing to do with ourselves), then we too are, in a way, declaring a diminished belief in Hashem’s control of the world.

This brings us back to Elul. The Yom HaDin is fast approaching, and there is only one person whose behavior we must measure – our own selves. Do not worry about who needs to ask you for mechila, and do not judge them if they do not. Rather think about your own behavior, turn and evaluate your own year. Once your have put aside weighing the merits of others, you can focus on the greatest struggle of all (the one we avoid by focusing on others), and that is the constant work of overcoming the yetzer harah that impedes us from drawing closer to Hashem.

 

 

Parshas Shoftim: The Risk of SelfDelusion

The second perek of Parshas Shoftim appears to have four main topics of discussion. The first, and shortest, is the prohibition of bringing an animal with a blemish as an offering to Hashem. This one verse statement is followed by the instructions of how the discovery of a man or a woman who is serving avodah zarah should be handled, including a warning for the necessity of multiple witnesses for capital punishment. The third topic of Devarim 17 is what to do when there is a complicated dispute, which includes a firm reminder that if one comes to seek superior judgement, it cannot then be ignored. Finally, the perek reiterates the warning to the future kings of Israel against having too many horses, too many wives, or too much wealth, as well as the need for the king to write for himself two sifrei Torah. While the four topics seem randomly put together – perhaps, as if, in giving his final address, Moshe was moving to whatever topic came to mind – there is actually an overarching theme, and that theme is a warning against self-delusion. 

What does self-delusion have to do with the prohibition of bringing an offering with a blemish? This is actually quite obvious to anyone who has ever walked out of the house with a slight stain on their shirt and decided that if anyone noticed they would simply act as if it just happened or they had no idea it was there. Obviously, it is possible for someone to bring an offering without knowing there is a blemish, but that is not the case being discussed. The prohibition is against bringing an animal with a blemish, thus implying that one knew that the animal was inadequate. A person would only bring an unacceptable offering if one believed that it was not that important, that Hashem would understand, or if one only really cared that others saw one bringing an offering and not on the actual quality of one’s avodah. 

The case of the man or the woman who serves avodah zarah seems obvious at first since anyone who chooses idols or the worship of the son or moon or etc is deluding themselves by denying Hashem’s rulership. But actually, within this section is a far greater warning – the danger of bearing witness. Why do we not condemn a person based on a singular eye-witness account? Because the chance that the information has been distorted is too great. In all capital cases, including this one, those who are witnesses are also the one’s who begin the ultimate punishment. The man or the woman who worships avodah zarah has committed a terrible sin, but before one sets them on a path of execution, one must be one hundred percent certain lest their own actions lead them to the traumatic role of taking another’s life. 

In the third discussion, that of seeking higher judgement, there is, once again, a warning. Do not seek out judgement unless you truly want justice. If you are only out to win, to turn the law to your favor, then you set yourself up at great risk, for seeking a higher ruling and then ignoring it becomes a capital offense. 

The laws of the king complete this perek and, in truth, can be interpreted for every member of Bnei Yisrael. Power is the easiest path to self-delusion and corruption. Any person who attains power, and that can be interpreted differently by different people depending on their own life situations, can easily believe that their achievements are a statement of their inherent goodness or strength of character or intelligence. How often do we see famous people fall to misfortune because they believe that they can break the norms of society, that laws and mores do not apply to them? For this reason, the Torah speaks to the top-most persona in the Jewish nation, the king, and lays out openly the easiest ways for a man to be led astray and the best means to prevent it.

The Torah is a book of law and a theology of truth. In all matters of halacha and hashkafa, being honest about one’s intentions is paramount. Moshe, in his final recounting of the Torah, grouped these sections of law together because they all subtly highlight the very varied ways in which every person has the ability to delude themselves that they are acting with the best intention. One might think that bringing a sheep even with a little blemish is still bringing a sheep, but, in fact, it is rather the completion of the self-delusion that one is acting on the will of the Divine rather than basic human instincts. This simple example is the foundation of all of these subjects. No matter one's station, a person must stop themselves from being corrupted by selfish instinct and evaluate the true motives of their actions.

Parshas Ra’eh: The Deeper Purpose of Shamor

Being an observant Jew requires vigilance. It requires constant consideration of one’s actions and whether those actions reflect the standards of Jewish law and the spirit of Torah morality. One of the most commonly repeated words of command in the Torah is the term shamor, which is translated most frequently as either guard or observe. The most famous usage of the term shamor is the mitzvah of Shabbas, as part of the duality of shamor v’zachor, guard and remember, in which the lo ta’aseh, the prohibitions of Shabbat that enforce “rest” are the means of guarding the holy day while the positive actions fulfill the instruction of remembering it.

Devarim 12:28, in parshas Re’eh, has a different, and rather interesting, pairing of the word shamor: “Shmor v’shamata es kol hadevarim haeleh…Guard and you shall hear all these commandments that I command you in order that it will go well for you and your children after you forever, because you will do what is good and what is right in the eyes of Hashem your God.”  Some commentators connect this statement solely to the section in which it is contained, to the discussion of the permission to eat [kosher] meat freely, the prohibition against eating blood, and the reminder that any animals designated for sacrifice must be brought upon the altar. However, the fact that the pasuk refers to kol hadevarim haeleh and that the verse promises that “it will be good for you and your children after you forever because you will do what is good and what is right in the eyes of Hashem your God” lead many commentators to see this as a separate statement – independent and pertaining to both mitzvos and the way in which one leads one’s life. The goal of guarding and hearkening to the mitzvos is to lead a life in which one does hatov v’hayashar, what is good and what is right.

According to the Tur HaAruch, Moshe used shmor v’shamata because “he wanted to include matters which go beyond legislated mode of behavior and which fall under the category of ‘do what is fair and good,’ to go beyond what is demanded of them in order to demonstrate that they act in the spirit of the Torah voluntarily and not under compulsion and threat of penalty” (Sefaria commentary translations). In order to live properly, one must do more than observe the mitzvos, one must observe the mitzvos in order to “hear” the deeper ways of the law, in order to find the spirit of the law that leads one to a moral, upstanding life.

The Ramban hints at this idea as well, saying that the verse is talking about more than static laws: “He [Moshe] did not mention here the statutes and ordinances, nor His testimonies and His commandments, but said all those words in order to include in this observance the good and the right” (ibid). Indeed, Rashi is even more specific in what is being discussed in this pasuk when he explains that “Hatov, what is good, refers to action that is proper in the eyes of the Heavenly father, while hayashar, what is right, refers to an action that appears proper in the eyes of men” (ibid).

Let us step back a moment and reflect on shamor’s other famous pairing in order to gain a deeper understanding of how guarding leads to hearing and how they, together, lead to a good and upright life for all one’s generations. In the dual commandments of Shabbas, shamor v’zachor - guard and remember, zachor refers to all of the positive mitzvos of the day – to making kiddush and motzei, to lighting candles, and etc. These are the beautiful actions that fill our neshamos with joy, that are passed down from generation to generation with personal flourishes, but that also, all too often have faded away when not powered by shamor. Guarding the prohibitted actions of Shabbas can, from the outside, seem fussy and difficult. One must understand, however, that in order to remember Shabbas, we must observe it, guard it. In order to pass on the beautiful tradition of candles and kiddush, one must guard the entire day. 

So too is the pairing of shmor v’shamata. In order to live a life that is good and proper, and to pass it on to one’s children, one must begin by guarding/observing the mitzvos. In so doing, one will then come to “hear” them, to understand the impact that they have on one’s life and to connect with them on a deeper level. For instance the mitzvos discussed in Devarim 15, which review the laws of shemitah as it pertains to loans, also delves into how one should treat the poor. Knowing that the Torah says “Give to him readily and have no regrets when you do so, for in return the Lord your God will bless you in all your efforts and in all your undertakings” (15:10), one can move beyond the letter of the law of giving without hesitation to creating organizations that seek out ways in which to give and to improve the lives of those in need. One mitzva explored, heard, understood…leads to more. It leads to bigger and better. It leads to leading an upright life.

The Ohr HaChaim points out about Devarim 12:28: “Our verse may also remind a person who is in the habit of fulfilling a particular commandment and is fully aware of what it entails not to say that he does not need to study this commandment. Moshe tells us that study even of commandments which we fulfil as a matter of routine is a separate mitzvah and is not to be neglected” (Sefaria). Shmor v’shamata is both a philosophical and a practical mitzvah. Just as we must always guard/observe the mitzvos of the Torah, so too must we always be seeking to understand the mitzvos and their impact on us, as well as the importance of using the mitzvos to lead a life that is truly hatov v’hayashar, what is good and what is right.