If Mom (Bechukosai)

What do the words “mom” and “if” have in common? Not much in the English language, but in Hebrew they are written with the same two letters: Aleph and Mem. The connection of Eem (if) and Eim (mom) is a wonderful lesson in both parenting and hashgafa (Jewish thought).

Parashat Bechukosai begins, for the first 10 verses, by describing the amazing, successful society that Israel will have if they live by the laws (and spirit of the laws) of the Torah. But the tone changes starting with verse 26:14, and the Torah begins listing the dreadful consequences that will arrive if they do not.

Reading the punishments has striking correlation to the historical reality that is seemingly predicted in the Torah: exiled from the land, beaten down by the other nations, suffering under hardship…. Throughout most of time, as was once a common phrase, it wasn’t easy to be a Jew.

But verse 26:14 begins with the word “v’eem – and if.” God is Omniscient. He knows everything that is going to happen and the verse might rightly have said “kee lo tishm’oo – when you will not listen to me.” God knows Klal Yisrael’s weaknesses, and there had been plenty of demonstrations of it immediately following the exodus from Egypt and throughout the journey through the Wilderness.

God saw the Jewish people’s potential to do the right thing. If He spoke to the Children of Israel with the language of a given, with the prediction of their fall, then it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Throughout the parsha, as the consequences escalate, the language is continually that of “and if you didn’t listen to the above,” because at each level, Hashem believes that the Children of Israel have the ability to correct themselves, to do teshuva.

This is the connection of eem and eim, if and mother. A mother, by nature, loves her child unconditionally and constantly expects to see them succeed. Parenting requires discipline, but at each level of discipline a parent believes that the child will overcome their urge and will choose to do the right thing.

God loves the Jewish people and so God offers them a warning of what will come if they stray from the path of the Torah, but that warning is laced with the hope that these things will not come to pass.

Raise Up (Behar)

In the commentaries of the Me’am Loez it is written: “When your brother becomes impoverished and loses the ability to support himself in the community, you must come to his aid. Help him survive, whether he is a proselyte or a native” (25:35).  There is an important phrase in discussing how we are to help other people: “to which he is accustomed.” This is the standard to which one should help support another person. This means that a person who is used to dressing nicely should have access to nice clothes, as an example. The basis of this idea is that it protects the honor of the person, that they are not demeaned or degraded because of their trying circumstances.

Helping the poor is a value in most civil societies. Every major North American city has shelters where the poor can find a bed, a warm shower, and something to eat. And there are many people who participate in programs to help the poor with a sincere heart, but....

It is very important in the context of Jewish law that one is honest with one’s intentions. For instance, do I write this dvar Torah to get lots of likes and attention and praise, or do I write it out of a sincere desire to write divrei Torah? The intentions behind my actions matter. This verse seems to make it clear In that one should come to the aid of one who has become impoverished not because you pity him, not because you want to be praised for doing so, but because you need to look at him “as your brother.” Look at him not as a separate entity but as your brother, a fellow tzelem Elokim, creature in the image of God.

Another interesting point that Rashi brings down is that this verse is actually an injunction: “Do not leave him by himself so that he comes down in the world until he finally falls altogether when it will be difficult to give him a lift, but uphold him from the very moment of the failure of his means.” We can’t live in this world oblivious to others. We should not be so wrapped up in ourselves that we miss the beginning of our brother’s fall, but, hopefully, we catch him before he reaches dire straits.

The parsha may be talking about financial matters, but the idea of catching a fellow before he falls is applicable to many things. A person can struggle in many areas of life. Be aware of your friends and neighbors, look at them as you look at yourself, and reach out to them before they need to reach out to you - and that can start with a simple smile, a pleasant hello, or a sincere inquiry into their welfare.

The Source of Blasphemy (Emor)

Because we live in an era in which almost nothing is held sacred, the term blasphemer seems somewhat archaic. Ok, honestly, when I hear the word blasphemer, I hear it in upper case, a word shouted out by an angry looking old man with a long finger pointing at someone else. But in Hebrew, the blasphemer is ham’kaelel, he who makes light - and in the Torah, blasphemy is nothing to take lightly!

At the end of this week’s parsha, the Torah relates how the son of an Israelite woman, whose father was an Egyptian, fought with an Israelite man. The first man then blasphemed with the name of God and made a mockery of that which was holy. He was taken into custody “to clarify for themselves through Hashem” (24:10-12).

Hashem told them to take him outside of the camp, for the witnesses of his blaspheme to put their hands on his head, and for the entire assembly to stone him. “Any man who will blaspheme his God shall bear his sin; and one who pronounces blasphemously the Name of Hashem shall be put to death, the entire assembly shall surely stone him; proselyte and native alike, when he blasphemes the Name, he shall be put to death” (24:15-16).  Seven pasukim later, it is recorded that Moses told this to Children of Israel, and they took him out and stoned him and “the Children of Israel did as Hashem had commanded” (23-24).

In between God’s instructions and the conclusion with action, Hashem lists off a number of crimes and consequences. If a man mortally wounds any human, then his life is forfeit. If a man kills an animal, then he must make restitution. If a man wounds another person than, “so shall be done to him...just as he will have inflicted a wound on a person, so shall be inflicted upon him (financially)” (20). And then a reiteration “One who strikes an animal shall make restitution, and one who strikes a person shall be put to death. There shall be one law for you, it shall be for the proselyte and native alike, for I, Hashem, am your God” (21-22).

Why are verses 17-22, the list of actions and consequences, included? Should God have just told Moshe what the punishment for blaspheme was, and that’s it since that was the question on the table? And why is it mentioned twice in this chapter that the ruling is the same for the proselyte and the native alike?

The issue of the proselyte and native is interesting because it makes one question just who this man was who blasphemed. He was, after all the son of an Israelite woman. However, according to the mepharshim, until matan Torah Jewish lineage was patriarchal. It only became matriarchal after matan Torah and this man was born before the Israelites came to Mount Sinai. Some are then of the opinion that everyone at Mount Sinai accepted Hashem and His Torah and so this man was like a proselyte. Hashem was making certain that it was clear that it did not matter what this man’s lineage was, for he had blasphemed God’s name.

The people were now learning that blasphemy, which can seem benign, is a capital crime. The list of actions and consequences that follow could, perhaps, be understood as God adding in a reminder that no man can take judgement into his own hands. If one hears someone blaspheme, one cannot just smite the blasphemer because that would be murder. The mention of restitution for an injured animal is a distinction between the punishment for murdering a man verses the consequence of killing an animal. And here, too, one cannot make excuses based on the other person’s lineage. Hashem makes no distinction.

A zealous person hearing another make a mockery of Hashem and the Torah might struggle with a desire to react. Blasphemy, unless done in a very public manner, could be hard to prove. The Chatam Sofer notes that “by using the term v’nasah cheto, he shall bear his sin (24:15), the Torah is implying that Hashem will deliberately bear (i.e. hold back from punishing) the sin of the blasphemer for a while but will eventually punish him. Contrary to the blasphemer’s assertion - which mocked many sacred aspects of Torah - that if Hashem could, He would have stricken me down immediately, the Torah assures us of his eventual punishment.”

Another interesting commentary quoted the Meshech Chachma: “Generally, when a person ridicules something, he poisons the minds of those present, turning them against the thing he is deriding. However, the present verse (...and the people of Israel did as Hashem had commanded Moshe) testifies that the blasphemer’s words had no effect at all on Israel...”

The blasphemer was unsuccessful in influencing those around him. But in reading this section of the parsha, one could, perhaps, feel some compassion for him. Rashi explains this man’s story (citing the Midrash): The fight, according to the Midrash, occurred when the son of the Israelite woman, whose father was Egyptian, set up his tent in the camp of his mother’s tribe, Dan. An Israelite man from the tribe of Dan told him that since the ruling was to set up their tents according to the tribe of their father, he had no place there. They took their dispute to Moshe’s court, and the ruling went against the son of the Israelite woman. Angry at the way he felt he had been unfairly treated, the man blasphemed with the name of God.

There was a comment in the Artscroll Stone Chumash commentaries after its citation of Rashi’s rendition of the Midrash, “The Torah mentions the fight because if they had argued rationally, they would not have come to blows; had they merely disputed, there would have been no blasphemy.” While it is true that his blasphemy did not affect anyone else’s belief in Hashem or His Torah, one can hope that it caused a great deal of self-reflection. How did this man who had witnessed the exodus from Egypt and the giving of the Torah and all the other miracles of the midbar come to make a mockery of Hashem?...because he was pushed away because of his background.

The lesson we can draw from it is that the best way each of us can guard the holiness of Hashem is by being aware of the feelings of other people.

Can I be Holy? (Kedoshim)

“Holy” is one of those words. Although it is the most common translation for the word kadosh, it is a word that has the flavor of a different belief system – like the words heaven, hell, bible, and angel. Holy as a word has an implication of something wonderous, something untouchable, something inaccessible. While some things kadosh are meant to be definitively separate (such as the kadosh hakadoshim – the holy of holies), this week’s parsha, kadoshim, makes it clear that being holy is meant to be something that the Children of Israel should strive for, and, therefore, it must be something that is attainable to achieve.

“Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: Speak to the Children of Israel, and say to them: You shall be holy, for holy am I, Hashem, your God” (19:1-2). It is so simple, that it is profound. It is so clear, that it leaves you wanting to delve in further. And yet, as straight forward as this language seems to be, it leaves a question: is God commanding us in a way to act, or is the Torah stating a fact that the Children of Israel became holy because of the very fact that they accepted Hashem as their God? Or perhaps it is a combination of both – because Bnei Yisrael is holy, they must act holy.

Being holy sounds like a lofty, spiritual journey, but the verses of Kedoshim are actually a series of definitive, specific mitzvot. Of all the verses in Chapter 19, here is the first few mitzvot listed after the directive to be holy: “Every man, your father and mother shall you revere, and my sabbaths shall you observe – I am Hashem, your God. Do not turn to idols, and molton gods you shall not make for yourselves – I am Hashem, your God” (3-4).  Although it is not perfect reverse symmetry, it is interesting how, immediately after introducing the injunction to be holy, the mitzvot listed are basically the first five of the Ten commandments (although swearing falsely isn’t mentioned until 19:11). Perhaps it’s like a signpost to guide Bnei Yisrael – the mitzvot listed in Kadoshim are specific but the foundation of everything are the aseret hadibrot.

Rabbi Chaim MiVolozhin (from Parparos Latorah, cited in Torah Treasures*) has a fascinating commentary regarding the opening verses of the parsha. He notes how each of the first verses ends with “I am Hashem your God,” and explains: “There is a good reason for this, for three verses reflect three distinctly different categories among the Jewish people.” He then goes on to explain that verse 2 (“You shall be holy, for holy am I) addresses “the pious and God-fearing people who meticulously observe all mitzvot, whether big or small.” It is an assurance that they should continue living righteous lives and will “merit the nearness of Hashem.” Verse 3, says Rabbi Chaim MiVolozhin, is “directed at the average Jew who properly observes the major mitzvot, such as honoring one’s father and mother and observing the Shabbos…As a reward for fulfilling the prominent mitzvot you will be enveloped by the Divine Presence.”  The verse that reinforces the prohibition against false gods and molton images is directed at Jews “whose attachment to Judaism is very tenuous, calling out to them…Although you abandoned the path of the Torah and the mitzvos don’t sever the thin thread that still binds you to your people. Don’t renounce the faith of your fathers. Thereby, you too will remain an inseparable unit of the nation of God.”

Rabbi Chaim’s words are very comforting to me, to be honest. When I think of my own obligation to fulfill the commandment to “be holy,” I am vastly overwhelmed. I look around and I see women and men in my community who are filled with a level of Emunah that I can only yearn for and whose dedication to living a life wholly dedicated to Torah leaves me both in awe and, a bit, in fear. But I am who I am, and this commentary gives me room to accept myself and have room to look forward.

In a way, it all comes back to the question of whether “You shall be holy” is a command or a promise, but perhaps it is a combination of both. The opening verses of Parshat Kedoshim remind me that my job is to work hard on tapping into the innate holiness I have just from being part of the nation who declared Hashem our God and to take that holy energy and grow in my emulation of Hashem.

*Furer, Dov. Torah Treasures: Selected Thoughts and Insights from the Classic Commentaries of the Parsha of the Week.  C.I.S. International, 1993.

Two Goats and Bchol Dor Va'Dor (Acharei Mos)

Acharei Mos, after the deaths…It is sadly too easy to connect the name of this week’s parsha to the tragic events that occurred in California on the last day of Pesach 5779. Truth be told, upon hearing the news on Saturday night – and also seeing the obtusely anti-Semitic political cartoon printed by the International Edition of The New York Times – the words of the Haggadah, Bchol Dor Va’Dor, felt ominously pressing. Just a week earlier, as we read these words declaring how in every generation our enemies have tried to destroy us, there were discussions about how we were indeed witnessing an escalation in anti-Semitism in the world.

The parsha’s title words, Acharei Mos, actually act more as a way of placing the next dialogue in the timeline, since the text immediately launches into Hashem’s instructions for the sacred service of Yom Kippur. Aaron, or the Kohein Gadol of the time, would purify himself and klal Yisrael before being brought two goats, one for a sin offering and one to be cast off the mountain into the Wilderness of Azazel. Interestingly, this ritual is most likely the source for the term scapegoat, a term that has haunted the Jewish people throughout history, one that we can easily see gaining ground in today’s divisive society.

The goats of Yom Kippur or, more precisely, the concept of Azazel, have always been intriguing. Two equal goats are blindly chosen. One’s “fate” is to be immediately offered as a sin offering, immediately sanctified. The other’s fate is to “stand alive before God to be an atonement on it to send it to Azazel to the wilderness” (16:10). The second goat stands and waits for the sin offering to be concluded before the high priest lays hands on it and confesses the transgressions of the Israelites. The goat is then “sent” into the wilderness. (According to tradition, it is pushed off a mountain/cliff and, if it survives, is left to wander in the wilderness.)

There are many, many commentaries on Azazel and the goats of Yom Kippur. One particular one discussed how the second goat must imagine himself to be the luckier goat, since he sees that the other goat is immediately slaughtered. In truth, however, if he survives the casting off, he will have to survive without a caretaker – in summary, a much harsher fate. In the end, perhaps the fact that both goats are meant to die that day gives significance to everything that happens to them before that. Their living, however brief, is the lesson we can learn from them – one is a vessel for the sanctification of Hashem and the other is a vessel for bearing witness to the collective transgressions of Klal Yisrael.

So what do the goats of Yom Kippur have to do with Bchol Dor Va’Dor on a week that reflects Acharei Mos? Anti-Semitism is on the rise. It’s just a fact that we have to accept and deal with. Around the world, people are asking why. Perhaps there really is no answer except that the Jewish people have a special role in the world and one negative effect of having that role and not living up to it is that, as God ordained, we are hated by the nations.*  In the end, there are two paths ahead of each Jew: 1) Be like the first goat –be a sanctification and embrace Jewish living, 2) Be like the second goat - think that we can survive cast off into the Wilderness, a drift from our purpose, the deviation from our national goal hanging upon our heads.

It is an imperfect metaphor. Both goats are sacrifices and our obvious desire is for the Jewish people to live and thrive. The point of the metaphor, however, is that they die either sanctified or adrift. We see a generation – really a series of generations – who have almost no connection to their Jewish heritage. We see Jews supporting movements that certainly don’t have the best interest of the Jewish people in their sites. We see Jews who cut Judaism down to its bare bones so that it can fit the morality of a foreign culture. After the terrible tragedies in Pittsburgh and now California – as well as the increasing reports of vandalism, desecrations, and out-right anti-Semitism, it is time to remember Bchol Dor Va’Dor is real and that our biggest weapon is staying strong in our convictions about living a Jewish life. This is how we ensure that the dorot, the generations to come, will host a Pesach seder, will celebrate Shabbat, and will see the next Holy Temple rise.

*Please note that the use of the term nations implies a much broader concept. There is absolutely no assumption upon the relationships of individual people.

Mindful of the Meat

Parshat Acharei Mos is a like a sandwich. On one end, there is the description of the Yom Kippur service and the ceremony of the scapegoat, and, at the other, there are the prohibitions of immoral relationships. Tucked in the middle is chapter 17, which states that anyone who slaughters a field animal and does not bring it to the Tent of Meeting will have a blood guilt, and anyone who offers a burnt offering and doesn't bring it to the Tent of Meeting will suffer karait. The chapter also includes a reinforcement of the prohibitions of consuming blood and of eating "what has died or has been torn by beasts" (17:15).

Imagine if (or perhaps better, when) the modern world meets the ancient world - hosting a barbeque would require a trip to the Temple to get your meat properly shechted with the necessary parts going to the altar. There is, herein, the obvious question: did people go vegetarian if they lived far from the Temple? That's a different discussion, but the basic answer is no because the difficulty of the distance was recognized by halachic authorities. 

The chapter (in verse 7) goes further to explain that the rule of bringing the animals to the Tent of Meeting would stop people from making offerings to demons in the field. Judaism believes in demons but not in making offerings to them. It is hard to relate to the concept of demons in the field, to be honest, but following the holiday of Pesach and all that meat over the holiday, this is a good time to connect it to the context of mindful eating. Every time a person desired to take the life of an animal for personal use, they had to take the animal to the priests. They had to consecrate it and give some of it to the Divine service. These rules were another decisive reminder to the Jewish people that we are a spiritual nation, primed to remember the Divine in all of our acts and especially in our most animalistic acts. 

We have no Mishkan or Temple today, but we do have brachot. May these thoughts on these pasukim be inspiration for making more mindful basic brachot before eating. Saying brachot before one eats is such a simple thing to do, and yet it is one that many people (for sure, me) tends to rush or mumble or do without thinking. If the Children of Israel could bring their cattle and sheep to the Tent of Meeting before preparing their food, the extra second it takes to properly pronounce the blessings is the least that we can do.