Parshas Nitzavim-Vayelech: 21st Century Wood and Stone

There is something extraordinarily profound about the opening of this week’s Parsha, Parshas Nitzavim-Vayelech. Unlike many parshios that start with Vayomer or Vayidaber or a few common phrases, this week’s parsha begins with words to which we must take heed. Atem – You all, Nitzavim – are standing, Hayom -this day, Coolchem – all of you, Lifnei Hashem – in front of Hashem.

 

It's powerful, yes because we are on the cusp of the Yomim Noarayim, on the days when we stand before the Sovereign Judge and ask that He see us with favor. But it is also powerful because it specifies “All of you” and “This day.” The unity that we all so frequently pontificate about is something necessary everyday, and Devarim 29:9 immediately reminds us of the tremendous power of our unity.

 

The opening of the parsha goes on to express who is included in “all of you”: men, women, and children; Jews by birth and “Jews by choice”; and those who seem, in some eyes, to be the lowest level of society. Every descendant – physical and spiritual - of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov is included in coolchem because everyone of these neshamos understands the trials and tribulations that took us out of Mitzrayim, out of the narrow straits of the world, and separated us from the nations. Then the Torah reminds us “And you saw their abominations and their repugnant idols of wood and stone, silver and gold which were with them” (29:16).  

 

It is a strange pasuk – which might be why it is a fairly well-known one. And where once we understood this pasuk to refer to those who worshiped idols – which were a threat to our nation in the days before the Anshei Knesses Hagadola davened for the removal of the taiva for avodah zara - it came to be understood as a reference to Christianity and Islam – wood or the cross and stone for the Black Stone of Mecca.

 

Just as the commentators understanding of the idols of wood and stone, silver and gold passed the test of time as the Western World was dominated by the other Abrahamic religions, so too we can look at our world today – a world in which religion seems to bear a political role far beyond belief systems – and recognize the necessary warning of abominations.

 

As the US Presidential election approaches, Jews in the country with the second largest Jewish population* in the world need to decide for whom to vote, and the choice – at least from my perspective – seems impossible. The country has polarized to the right and to the left. To the left is stone. The stone is a cold heart that finds it difficult to acknowledge the atrocities committed on October 7^th or to sympathize with Jewish students harassed on their college campuses. To the left are people who have embraced the rallying cries of the anti-Israel protesters and don’t even understand the murderous meaning of “From the river to the sea.” To the left is the delusion of safety among people who claim to have no bias but who have been empowering anti-Semitism for years.

 

To the right is wood. To the right are people who speak with fiery rhetoric about protecting Israel’s right to exist, but who, more and more, have been open to embracing men and women with deeply troubling beliefs. To the right are people who sound trust-worthy but whose values, historically, lean toward defining Jews as other.

 

The idols of wood and stone are still with us today, still luring us into trouble. The antidote to those troubles, however, has already been stated. “You are all standing this day before the Lord, your God…” (Devarim 29:9). Hayom – this day – tells us that this pasuk is important in every era. Coolchem – all of you – tells us, once again, about our most powerful weapon, which is Jewish unity. Our weapon is Nitzavim, which means to stand in an upright position.

 

Obviously, it is important to vote in the national election - That is one’s right and duty as a citizen. But as a Jew, it is most important that we stand together, stand proud of who we are, and, most significantly, remember that we stood before Hashem and we continue to stand before Hashem.

 

In a few more days, it will be Rosh Hashana (when we will literally be standing all day…lol) 5785. I think it is fair to say that 5784 was a year in which Hashem made it clear that our place, the place of the Jewish people, is neither to the right nor the left. Our place is outside of politics because our job is to remember and uphold our covenant with Hashem.

 

May this Shabbas be restful and the upcoming Rosh Hashana usher in a new year that sees victory and peace.

 

*possibly the first by a few thousand different according to the Jewish Virtual Library

Parshas Ki Tavo – The Important of Being Good

 As an English teacher, I often ask students to take a large concept and break it down to its most simplified form. Parshas Ki Tavo is, therefore, rather fascinating in its structure in that Bnei Yisrael are first presented with what could be considered a skeleton list of behaviors to be avoided lest one be cursed followed by an extremely detailed composition describing life when blessed by Hashem verses life when cursed by Hashem.

 

The skeletal list of curses, which one expects from the text to be paired with a similar list of blessings but is not, are fascinating. They do not mention any of the halachos that we most associate with living a Torah life, and they do not mention anything about the avodah, although the mishkan and its actions have taken up a large percentage of the Torah thus far. In fact, of all the curses listed, only one could be considered bein adom l’makom – and that one prohibits the making of idols and setting them up in secret, which is a very specified avodah zara.

 

In other words, Hashem is not saying to curse the person who does not keep Shabbas or who eats non-kosher food or who violates the holidays, even though these topics are related numerous times in the Torah. But one who violates basic human decency, that is whom one should curse, and the actions for which one shall be cursed are oddly specific: insulting one’s parents, moving a landmark, misdirecting a blind person, taking a bribe to be a false witness, and etc. Taken as a whole, however, they create broad brush strokes of decency.

 

The only one of the curses that is not hyper-focused, so to speak, is the concluding “Cursed be whoever will not uphold the terms of this Torah and observe them.—And all the people shall say, Amen” (Devarim 27:26). The debate, which one can even say is ongoing as rabbis today prepare divrei Torah, is whether this refers to the just completed list to which it belongs or to the Torah in its entirety. But that is a mute point for now.

 

There is one other subtle unifying factor of these curses. They are all private acts, things that might be done when – or because – there are no witnesses.

 

The curses and the blessings are to be recited just before Bnei Yisrael enter the Promised Land. This warning of the temptations that might follow, the lure of selfish violations of decency, is declared just before Bnei Yisrael are going to leave the safety of Hashem’s palpable presence. These curses are a mother or father telling their newly adult child not to overspend on their credit card. It might not seem problematic and it’s so easy to do, but the repercussions for the future are serious.

 

The curses of transgressors of decency may be directed at entering the Land of Canaan in Parshas Ki Tavo, but the curses are a warning no matter where one lives. And the temptations are far greater in gulus than when Bnei Yisrael lived in the spiritually infused Promised Land, where the recognition of Torah and Hashem was ever-present. So here we are, 2 long millennia in exile constantly encountering a world in which the mores of society are ever changing. Ours, however, should not. Gulus is a world in which Hashem’s face is hidden, in which we struggle to feel the spiritual around us, but the necessity of being a good person – of not doing ill to another even when one thinks they cannot be caught – never goes away.

 

I wish you all a good Shabbas.

 

Parshas Ki Tezei – All for One or One for All

In America, every person is entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness – a philosophical statement of rights, if nothing else. It sounds lovely, and it does appear to be the heart of western society today. The question for a Dvar Torah, however, is what does that have to do with Torah. Do these values line up with Jewish values? Let’s look at them in reverse order and see how they compare to the mitzvos of Parshas Ki Tezei, or at least some of them.

 

The pursuit of happiness is an abstract concept. One assumes that it was not meant to mean that every person should put themselves and their specific wants as first priority, but it does seem that this is how society has devolved in the decades that have passed. The halachos of the Torah in this week’s parsha, however, emphasize that the pursuit of happiness takes second priority to the “pursuit” of a harmonious community. Thus we have the commandment, and the detailed rules expanded upon in the Torah she’baal peh, of returning a lost object (Devarim 22:1-3) and, similarly, the halachos of helping even an enemy if his oxen have fallen on the road. We put others first.

 

The right to liberty is defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as the quality or state of being free; the power to do as one pleases, the freedom from physical restraint, and the freedom from arbitrary or despotic control. Is this different than the Pursuit of Happiness? Happiness is stating that how I  feel matters more than other people. Liberty means that my choices need to be without constraint. But in this week’s parsha, we learn about the laws of Yibum – the law by which a man must marry the widow of his brother if his brother died without children. There are, of course, halachos to exempt oneself, but the idea remains a firm part of Torah. A person does not necessarily have liberty in a Torah world. Even the most intimate aspects of a person’s life are constraint by law.

 

The right to life seems like an incredibly basic entitlement. And, in truth, most of Western Civilization is built on a Judeo-Christian foundation that places tremendous importance on life. But stating that one has a right to life implies that one has a right to no-life, that one can throw one’s life away or choose not to live. There is no right to life in the Torah; there is a responsibility to life. We see this in Parshas Ki Tezei in Devarim 22:8: “When you build a new house, then you shall make a parapet around your roof, that you shall not bring blood upon your house, if any man fall from there.”

 

It is a person’s responsibility to protect life – even on a roof-top upon which they never choose to tread. This verse, this one simple verse, reflects the identity of Klal Yisrael. Why are the numbers so disparate in the current war? Because it is built into us to know that we must protect life, that life is precious, and that life is not a right but a responsibility. Sadly, in the State of Israel, one must not only build parapets around rooftops but safe rooms and bunkers. The government invests in such evolved protection because every life matters.

 

Western civilization has taken the American Founding Fathers’ call to the right for Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness to its extreme, and, as a result, we’ve lost far too many Jews to attrition and assimilation. The evolution of Western society has allowed Jews an unprecedented opportunity to live peacefully in our gulus, to feel like we can be both who we are religiously and still be part of our host nation. And that is fine – I myself am a proud American and a proud Canadian – as long as being a Jew is what shapes our moral outlook.

 

Parshas Ki Tezei could be read as a list of rules, a review of halacha learned throughout the wandering in the Wilderness. Within that list, however, we see the true dignity of Torah: return a lost object; unload a beast lying under its burden; do not leave out a stumbling block; pay your workers’ wages on time; do not charge one’s brother interest nor hold on to the collateral of a borrower over night if it is something that they might need; not to have inaccurate scales; and etc. The parsha also talks about war, about bringing home a captured woman as a wife (how to treat her so that the truth of the relationship might be revealed and as a warning against the dangers that may come from such a union) and about remembering Amalek, who thought us a weak nation.

 

In this time period, when the shadows of the world continue to grow and the anti-Semitism long buried in the veneer of Western Civilization continues to be revealed, remember that this is who we are – a nation that values each person, their life and their dignity, because each life is essential to who we all are and not just because we want to make certain that our own happiness is guaranteed.

Parshas Shoftim - Relating to Kingship.

 As school years begin across the northern hemisphere, millions of children are sitting in their classrooms, looking at their teachers, and asking, “Why do we have to learn this?” It was even noted at a recent teacher training conference that this question can be hard to answer specifically for a history teacher. Kids don’t generally resonate with “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” Nevertheless, the truth of this statement is highlighted in the current global climate when leadership in so many countries is shifting. Many people were in denial over the possible return of nationalism, and, equally, it still astonishes many that countries could choose to follow the path of Communism that failed so gloriously in the USSR.

What, you might be wondering, does this have to do with the parsha, parshas Shoftim? Shoftim has a wealth of fascinating subsections and verses that could, indeed, be connected to our current situation – some literally and some more figuratively - but in a world rocked by leadership debates it seemed pertinent that we are reminded of the Torah’s dictates on a Jewish king. It is famously known that the Torah prohibits kings of Israel from owning too many horses or marrying too many wives. It is also common knowledge that each king is obligated to write two Torah scrolls, and the reason for this is “so that his heart will not be haughty over his brothers, and so that he will not turn away from the commandment, either to the right or to the left, in order that he may prolong [his] days in his kingdom, he and his sons, among Israel” (Devarim 17:20).

Devarim 17:20 may be speaking of the ancient kings, of the men who reigned in the days of the Beis Hamikdash, and of royalty when all of klal Yisrael understood the Divinity of Torah. But the instructions in the Torah are often those which most resonate throughout time and regardless of place. Now we look at our world today and we have to wonder. “…so that his heart will not be haughty.”

Is there a politician today about whom one can say they are not haughty? Is there a “world leader” for whom it isn’t apparent that they are always going to put themselves first, to adjust the rules as they need them? Sadly, not really. And this is not a statement about any one particular party or figure; this is all of them.

Except now we are in Elul. Now we are in a time when we are meant to focus on Kingship – as it is said: “The King is in the field.” Now is the time to approach Hashem and supplicate Him even as we draw close, spiritually, and remember His awesomeness.

The verses on choosing a human king are separated out as their own aliyah (sheini). The message is important. Human leaders are, by nature, easily led to think themselves godlike in their power, untouchable by the world. (As an aside, haven’t you ever wondered when a politician gets caught in a public scandal how someone who lives under constant press coverage could believe they could have a secret life?) Once upon a time we thought that if we got rid of absolute monarchies, we would solve the problem of leaders who were led astray by arrogance, by wealth, or by their own frivolous whims, and so we moved to democracies hoping that these leaders would always remember to whom they were responsible. But anyone who must face election cycle after election cycle inevitably must build up their ego and must cater to special parties. This is history. History shows us how human leadership is… human.

In the closing days of Av, all of Klal Yisrael was devastated by the news of the monstrous execution of six of the hostages. It rocked our world. They were so close to freedom after suffering so long. For all these months we prayed for their lives, and Hashem said yes. For all these months we prayed for their freedom, and then Hashem said no. And we don’t really understand. We want to understand why such a terrible thing has occurred, but we never will because we are humans, because we see the world and see our slice of history, our specific story. We won’t be able to understand, but we look toward the leadership and are reminded that they seemingly put their own specific agendas first. But they are human, they cannot see the bigger picture.

It is Elul. The King is in the field. The King of kings knows the good and the bad and everything in between. He knows how much this hurt our nation, but He also knows the why that we may never understand.

Coming into Elul with this tragedy on our heads may have us perplexed. We davened so hard for these hostages, and Hashem said no. What do we do now? Now we turn to Hashem and we recognize His answer, and then we daven that their deaths will not be in vain, that we will, perhaps, be able to see a sliver of the bigger picture soon. We turn to the King of kings, and we declare how we accept His far broader perspective of the world, but nevertheless, we ask for what we need, what we want, and what we hope for. We daven, we request, we supplicate… yes, we have many words for ways we address Hashem … but we never forget that Hashem is the King.

It’s been a long week of reflection. May this Shabbas bring us a sense of comfort and peace, and May Hashem send Moshiach soon so that we can truly, truly understand.

 

Good Shabbas

 

Parshas Ra’eh: Two Interpretations But Not really

For thousands of years, the Jewish people have prided themselves on being unique, on following a different path, on having a mission. In order to, please Hashem soon, fulfill our ultimate goal of being a mamleches kohanim, a nation of priests – a nation that leads the world in matters of spirituality and holiness (and thus ethics) - we need to hold ourselves to different standards; and that is often really very hard. Living in galus, the imperfect state of the world, has forced us to be surrounded and, thus, influenced by nations and peoples who have different goals. It is up to us to navigate that path between.

 

In this week’s parsha, Parshas Ra’eh, there is a seemingly short and simple pasuk that could easily be overlooked as a simple wrap up to the subject being discussed but is far more impactful than might be realized. Pasuk 12:4 states: “Lo ta’asoon ken la’Hashem E-lo-kay’chem. Do not do thus to Hashem your Gd.” The pasuk follows instructions to Bnei Yisrael that upon entering the Promised Land they should make certain to destroy all the places where the other nations had worshipped false gods. Indeed, the pasuk before says: “And you shall tear down their altars, smash their monuments, burn their asherim with fire, cut down the graven images of their gods, and destroy their name from that place.”

 

The preceding pasuk, however, is exactly what makes this pasuk so curious. It seems as if the Torah is telling Bnei Yisrael not to tear down or destroy anything that is part of the avodah to Hashem, but that seems like an obvious statement. The entire focus of the Torah is getting to the Promised Land to fulfill the ultimate means of serving Hashem, so who would even think to tear down Hashem. That would seem to fall under prohibitions against blasphemy and rebellion and the like.

 

Perhaps it is this conundrum that has led a great number of wise scholars to interpret this pasuk as meaning that one should not worship Hashem in any way that is similar to the worship of Avodah Zara. It isn’t as simple as don’t carve images or designate holy trees. Taking Jewish worship and shaping it to reflect modern standards is a slippery slope. Just look at where the introduction of an organ led… And it is tempting. Seeing outsiders in the throes of their own faith could very well lead one to wanting to bring that passion or joy to Jewish prayer. If you’ve ever seen gospel, it is full of energy and joy that is aimed at God. But it is not for us. We can be inspired by that to inflect more energy and joy into our own avodah, but we should not transform our avodah to mimic theirs.

 

Don’t worship like the others and don’t destroy the places or vehicles of avodas Hashem - one verse with two very different understandings, and yet they are both relevant comments on life in our modern day galus. These two instructive interpretations merge in that much of popular culture seems to thrive on erasing religion. For thousands of years of history, one could not have imagined a world where so much secularism reigned. Jews avoided the ways of worship of other nations – to the point that it is common to avoid even giving directions using a church as a landmark – but now we must be wary of the penchant for the world around us to diminish, if not erase all together, the Creator of the Universe.

 

There is one more powerful aspect to this verse: “Lo ta’asoon ken la’Hashem E-lo-kay’chem. Do not do thus to Hashem your Gd.” The power is in our hands. Hashem instructed us on how to connect to Him, and He commanded us what to do or not do according to His “Creator’s Manuel,” His omniscient view of all things. The word La’asot, as in ta’asoon, means to do or make. It is a powerful word that implies just how much bechira, free will, each of us has. Hashem gave us control over our relationship with Him, because, ultimately, that is the only way we will be able to fulfill our role as a mamleches kohanim.

 

I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas, a good start to the new school year, and an upcoming chodesh tov.

Parshas VaEschanan: Thinking About What is Coming

This past week was…intense. Not a few people went into last Shabbas wondering if this week would see unthinkable disaster or, perhaps, ever-yearned for salvation. With Iran threatening to attack and reports insinuating that they would do so on Tisha B’Av, the Jewish world held its breath. And life continued forward as before. And many wondered, even as they were grateful for the lack of attack, why or when – and even why we keep cutting to the edge of a new era but are unable to get there.

 

There are many interesting aspects to this week’s parsha, Parshas Vaeschanan, that could speak to the situation in which we are living. In particular, it is interesting to look at the second half of perek hey (5), starting at pasuk 20, which is the beginning of the fifth aliyah. In the parek, Moshe is describing the reaction of Bnei Yisrael to hearing Hashem at Har Sinai, at the giving of the Aseres Hadibros.

 

“And it was, when you heard the voice from the midst of the darkness, and the mountain was burning with fire, that you approached me, all the heads of your tribes and your elders. And you said, ‘Behold, the Lord, our God, has shown us His glory and His greatness, and we heard His voice from the midst of the fire; we saw this day that God speaks with man, yet [man] remains alive. So now, why should we die? For this great fire will consume us; if we continue to hear the voice of the Lord, our God, anymore, we will die. For who is there of all flesh, who heard the voice of the living God speaking from the midst of the fire, as we have, and lived? You approach, and hear all that the Lord, our God, will say, and you speak to us all that the Lord, our God, will speak to you, and we will hear and do’” (Devarim 5:20-24).

 

In other words, the people stood at Sinai, saw the thunder, heard the lightening, listened to Hashem’s voice, and grew terribly afraid. They knew that they were receiving something sublime, that they were experiencing a moment that would take them to another level of existence – and they backed away from it. They feared it. They asked Moshe to intervene for them.

 

The Rambam listed 13 tenets of Jewish faith, the Ani Maamins, and one of those is “I believe with complete faith in the coming of Moshiach, and although he may tarry, nevertheless, I wait every day for him to come.” Waiting – yearning – planning – pining for Moshiach. This is what a Yid does.

 

But, to say something controversial…

 

It is part of the human condition to fear change.  It is natural to be afraid of the unknown. And as much as we all may express our emunah, true emunah and bitachon is incredibly difficult to achieve. Over the past few weeks, the question of what to daven for has been a conundrum. If one davens that this is Moshiach coming, does that mean one does not daven for peace and stability. And if one davens that the enemy backs down, is that buying more time until global decisions necessary for spiritual change are made?

 

Bnei Yisrael at Har Sinai were at an inconceivable level of spiritual awareness, and their fear drove them to make space between themselves and the Divine. Have we grown past that? Can we? Ani Maamin b’emunah shelaima bviyas Hamashiach…but is that enough? Believing Moshiach is coming, wanting Moshiach to come, preparing for Moshiach –  but will we be able to embrace Moshiach when he comes?

 

This week’s parsha is named Va’eschanan, which means “And I entreated.”  This week’s Shabbas, however, is known as Shabbas Nachamu, after the opening words of the Haftarah, which mean “Console, console My people," says your God” (Yeshiyahu 40:1).  There is a tremendous lesson of bitachon in the two names associated with this Shabbas. When one takes it upon themselves to truly beseech Hashem, to reach out and entreat Him for help – whether that be asking Hashem to send Moshiach or asking Hashem to help one get to the level of emunah to fulfill the ani maamins – then one will be able to witness Nachamu, the consolation and comforting of our nation.

 

May we achieve this soon.

Good Shabbas

 

Parshas Devarim: These are the words of Moshe – [This is] the vision of Isaiah

 Without question, Jews around the world are “holding our breath” this Shabbas. For many of us, we do not remember a Nine Days that felt so rife with threat – and we in the diaspora are experiencing only a small sliver of that tension.  Some may be asking “How did we get here?”, while others are pondering “How can the situation be saved?”

 

This Shabbas is known as Shabbas Chazon, which technically translates into the Shabbas of vision but receives the name because chazon, vision, is the first word of the Haftara, the opening lines of Sefer Yishayahu (Isaiah). Shabbas Chazon is always the Shabbas right bfore Tisha B’Av, and it is also always Parshas Devarim. Within that duality lie responses to both questions.

 

How did we get here? Parshas Devarim begins with Moshe reviewing the actions of Bnei Yisrael throughout their sojourn in the Wilderness. Most significantly, however, Moshe focuses on the appointment of the spies who so thoroughly led the nation astray. And it is only here, in Devarim, that we learn the subtle details of how Moshe felt about their request to spy out the land and how troubled he was by their lack of bitachon. Here it is that we are reminded that had we, meaning the whole of klal Yisrael, not cried out in self-pity that Hashem was leading us to our destruction, all of history would have been different. We are reminded of how often Klal Yisrael can be its own worst enemy.

 

How did we get here? Hashem makes it clear in Yishiyahu’s vision that all of our trials and tribulations stem from our own behaviour. We bring upon ourselves destruction because we did not learn from our mistakes, because we allowed our society to become selfish and sinful. More importantly, even as we practiced perfect sacrifices and orderly rituals, it is clear from Yishayahu’s words that we lost the ikker, the heart, of the Torah – which is about creating a true and just society.

 

How did we get here? Ritual and ceremony, and even prayer, mean little without actual bitachon. Without bitachon, we cannot set up a just society because we work under the pretense that we control the outcome and so our instincts for self-preservation kick in. Alas, as pointed out in Shaar Habitachon (I believe), the ways of Hashem are such that when mankind believes in a force other than Hashem – be that an idol or money or people or self – Hashem leaves them in their delusion.

 

Parshas Devarim wraps up with the assignment of land to Reuven, Gad, and half of Menashe on the far side of the Yarden. This is significant because it reminds us of an important aspect of bitachon, which is knowing that we are in a relationship with Hashem, that Hashem listens to our opinions and desires as well.

How can the situation be saved? Loftily stated – by creating a society built on bitachon. This doesn’t mean religiosity, but rather “Learn to do good. Devote yourselves to justice; Aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; Defend the cause of the widow” (Yishayahu 1:17). One can build a truly just society only when one truly comprehends that Hashem runs the world for the good of all and that we are each only tools for His will to be carried out.

 

Of course, life, and faith and individuality are far more complicated than just saying trust Hashem, and true bitachon is an exceptionally hard feat – made even harder by a host society that asserts its rights to self-expression and self-fulfillment above all else. Most of us are self aware enough to know that we as individuals are not in positions to shape national policy – or often even community behaviour. What we can shape is ourselves.

 

Will Iran attack? Might Hezbollah go rogue? Are our synagogues safe? We must daven that this evil will pass, but we can’t just daven in a vacuum. We have to do our hishtadlus by incorporating acts that lead to just-ness and by building our bitachon.

 

Shabbat Shalom.