Not Too Earthy (Noach #2)

Parshas Noach’s famous narrative is, obviously, the great flood that destroyed the world. As detailed as the narrative is (look at the measurements of the ark and the specification of the numbers of the animals), there are quite a number of pieces to the story that beg for questions. For instance, what actually was so special about Noach? Sure the text says straight out that he was a righteous man in his generation and a man who walked with God, but, to be honest, that doesn’t really give us much insight into what Noach did to be considered righteous and to walk with God. Another interesting question is why a flood? Being perfectly frank, couldn’t God have just clapped his anthropomorphic hands and made everything disappear?

Have you ever noticed that parshas Noach actually begins in parshas Bereishis? The text read for parshas Noach begins with the ninth pasuk of the sixth perek. Perhaps the sages divided it this way to encourage us to look backwards and gain a deeper understanding.

When studying the parshiot, it is very easy to gloss over the long, somewhat repetitive-feeling family trees. Father-son-father’s death, father-son-father’s death … repeat and repeat. Between the begetting and the begats (and of course the truly exciting parts of parshas Bereishis – creation, Adam and Chava, Cain and Hevel), the final portion of parshas Bereishis is easy to miss. And yet Noach’s birth actually has more written about it than just that he was begot: “When Lemach had lived 182 years, he begat a son. And he named him Noach, saying, ‘This one will provide us relief from our work and from the toil of our hands, out of the very soil which Hashem placed under a curse'” (Bereishis 5:28-29). It then states, after recounting Lemach’s years and death, that “when Noach lived 500 years, Noach begat Shem, Cham, and Yafet” (5:32).

Noach was born with a mission, at least according to his father. One could infer from this that Noach held himself aloof from his fellows because he believed that he could be more, that he could make a difference. Indeed, there is a very interesting commentary about the fact that all of the other fathers listed before him named one son and then it is written about them that they “begat sons and daughters.” Noach appears to have only had his three sons. Don Yitzchak Abarbanel says: “Had Noach been given many sons he would have been unable to keep a watchful eye on them so that they don’t mix with their contemporaries and emulate their corrupt ways. He would be unable to raise them in the discipline of self-restraint that was necessary in order to offset the indulgences of that generation.” 

But there is, perhaps, even more one can glean from Lemach’s statement upon naming his son Noach. The populace of the earth, the descendants of Adam and Chava, were struggling. They felt, on a daily basis, the traumatic effects of Adam’s curse. “Cursed be the ground because of you; By toil shall you eat of it all the days of your life. Thorns and thistles shall it sprout for you. But your food shall be the grasses of the field; By the sweat of your brow shall you get bread to eat, until you return to the ground— For from it you were taken. For dust you are, and to dust you shall return” (Bereishis 3:17-19).

Taking a step back, let us remember that Adam was created from the adama, the earth, and given a Divine spirit with the breath of God. According to tradition, until he ate from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad, his physical and spiritual sides cohabitated perfectly, so to speak. Once Adam and Chava ate from that fruit, their spiritual side was, one might say, suppressed by their physical side. Perhaps this was why Hashem punished Adam by cursing the earth, because now that the physical was his dominant aspect, Hashem did not want to make it too easy for Adam to allow his more natural – perhaps more animalistic – side to conquer his being all together.

Living in the wake of this punishment was difficult, and we can’t really imagine how difficult. One could speculate that perhaps the corruption of humankind was a result of “cursed be the ground because of you.” It was too hard. Life was too completely physical with its toil. Perhaps they lost any spiritual/moral compass because their spiritual side was suppressed and their physical side was disconnected and at odds with its source (the earth).

This is the significance of the flood. As noted in many places, water is often connected, metaphysically, to Torah, which is the apex of spiritual power in the world. God sent the rain…so much rain that the whole world flooded. What happens during the flood? The topsoil was washed away. The adama, the land, cursed by Hashem was cleansed by its immersion in Heavenly water. In washing away the effects of the trauma of Adam, Hashem preserved the one man and his family whom he knew could survive the transformation of the world because this was the relief he had been striving toward his whole life. This was the goal he had taught his sons and trained them to seek.

When Lemach named his son, his words were like a prayer. He knew that this son would be part of a generation that would not have seen Adam, not have been affected by understanding what they had lost. More than that, as the commentator Chizkuni points out: “Seeing that he had been born after the death of Adam, the curse decreed on earth as being effective during Adam’s lifetime could now be lifted.”

Many people assume that Noach’s name refers to comfort. However the Malbim points out that it can also be connected to the root of the verb for changing a mindset (one’s own or that of another). “The general concept of nechamah as a change of attitude is the clue to Lemach’s prayer … Lemach hoped and foresaw that his son Noach would work to inspire mankind – mired as they were into emptiness and depravity ten generations after the Creation – to turn their actions around. Lemach prayed that Noach would reverse the curse of the ground, a curse which resulted from the deterioration of people’s behavior.”

The words of Lemach at the birth of his son add a wealth of insight into our understanding of Noach. Noach’s father seems to have raised him to be less physically rooted than his peers, allowing his spiritual side a little more space. This freedom for his soul was, perhaps, the reason that he could “walk with God,” and that characteristic offered God the opportunity to “wash the earth,” for he knew that from Noach there might come the people who could bring back the equilibrium of body and soul.

Ten Generations (Noach #2)

At the end of parshas Bereishis, the Torah records the genealogical line from Adam to Noach. Adam (1) - Seth (2) – Enosh (3) – Kenan (4) – Mahalalel (5) – Jared (6) – Enoch (7) – Methusaleh (8) – Lamech (9) – and Noach (10). There were 10 generations between Adam and Noach. When you think about it in the context of over 5,000 years of human history, 10 generations is actually not such a big span of time. Indeed, for those who marry and procreate young, ten generations from now may be only a little over two hundred years.

This may seem like just a quaint and interesting idea…until one recalls that the sages state the “deadline” year for the arrival of Moshiach is the Hebrew year 6,000. One month ago, the Jewish New Year 5780 began. So that’s just 220 years left until 6,000 – approximately 10 generations!

Can the two generations at opposite ends of the arc of time be compared? That might be a bit of a terrifying thought given what everyone knows about Noach’s generation, that “God saw how great was man’s wickedness on earth and how every plan devised by his mind was nothing but wicked all the time” (Bereishis 6:5). There are many commentaries about what exactly was meant by their “wickedness” (ra’ah), although most of these are connected to verse 6:11 and the Torah’s statement: “The earth became corrupt before God, the earth was filled with lawlessness. God saw how corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth.”

Rashi explains that this corruption infers lewdness and idolatry and that lawlessness means robbery. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch says more clearly, “Shachas (corrupt) is the conception of corruption, not destruction. It is the overthrow of a good condition, and the impeding of progress, and the changing into the opposite of anything which was meant to thrive and prosper.…Chamas (lawlessness) is a wrong too petty to be caught by human justice but if committed continuously can gradually ruin your fellow-man.” Knowing that the world was full of corruption and lawlessness, one can better understand Rav Hirsch’s comment on verse 6:5’s use of the word ra’ah (wicked), to which he says: “In the word ra’ah lies the conception of ‘broken,’ in contrast to shalaim (complete) and tamim (whole)…. God had created the world and set Man to be his representative, His agent, on it. But, through what was happening, a ‘large break’ had been made in the harmony of the world.”

What did mankind break that it can be called ra’ah? To understand this, it is important to recognize that Hashem created the world with a balance of justice and mercy. He created humankind because He wanted to give to them, and He created them in His image so that they could connect to him through the shared capacity to give and to create. The wickedness that God saw was a subtle build up of the chamas, lawlessness. Don Yitzchak Abarbanel explains it beautifully:

A wicked person who has acquired a wicked trait, and has allowed it to permeate his character until it has become his second nature, will not see any wrong in his wicked behavior. On the contrary, in his eyes it will be normal, and he will pursue it, and will look with disdain at all the people who refuse to emulate his lifestyle. Furthermore, he will justify his behavior by finding rational excuses for it, in order to convince himself and others that it is the right way of life. Such is the progression of sin, once people develop the habit of sinning, they gradually lose their shame, and their immoral behavior becomes the accepted norm…On this type of behavior the Torah says, “the earth became corrupt before God,” meaning before God it was corrupt but not before the people, because they had lost all sense of right and wrong, and had sunk down so low in their sinful ways that this corruption seemed all but normal in their eyes.

Before contemplating whether the lawlessness of the dor hamabul (generation of the flood) has any reflection on our generation, it is interesting to also note that Nimrod, Noach’s great grandson (3 generations later) was responsible for the building of the Tower of Bavel. Bavel was an incredible moment for humanity, for all of the people were unified and working together – unfortunately they were doing so with the intention of going to war against God. In contemplating the inversion of the generations, it is a little startling that just this past week was the 50^th anniversary of the creation of the first iteration of the internet, which has unquestionably brought people together across innumerable international borders.

What the internet has also started to do is to break down societal standards of right and wrong. Some of those standards were twisted and harmful, but some of those standards were boundaries that have defined civilization from the beginning of time. This is not a declaration that the world is completely corrupt or that the internet is bad. But isn’t it interesting how our society is now driven by likes and popularity? If enough people share a lie over social media, that lie becomes truth. If enough people condone an act that is clearly unjust, somehow it is no longer considered wrong.

One could certainly ask the question: Can we go back? There is no foreseeable way to alter the course of modern technology. But we can recognize that we only have a limited expanse of time before Hashem will send Moshiach, and it is our actions that will determine whether the entry into the next stage of the world is gentle and calm or harsh and destructive.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

Hirsch, Rabbi Samsom Raphael. The Pentateuch: Volume V Deuteronomy. Translated by Isaac Levy, Judaica Press, LTD, 1999.

Abarbanel, Isaac. Abarbanel: Selected Commentaries on the Torah, Volume I Bereishis/Genesis. Translated and Annotated by Rabbi Israel Lazar, Self Published with CreateSpace, 2015.

Looking Past the Differences (Bereishis #1)

When talking about twins in the Torah, most peoples’ minds immediately jump many generations to Yaakov and Esav, which makes sense. They are the first identified twins in the Torah and the twins with the most “text.” According to Bereishis Rabbah 22, however, the very first twins in the world were actually Kayin and Hevel (Cain and Abel). In exploring who they were before the tragic fratricide, one might find a subtle but fascinating parallel between these sets of twins.

Their story really starts with their parents. Adam and Chava were, one might say quite literally, two sides of the same person. Adam “knew” Chava, the opposite side of himself, and from that union of two separated halves, Kayin and Hevel were immediately conceived and born on the same day. From the outset, at least according to their names and the information one can gather from their professions, Kayin and Hevel were strikingly different. Kayin, who was to become a farmer, was a man of the earth. Hevel, who was to become a shepherd, was a man of spirit. Each of the sons appears to have been the embodiment of one of the two aspects (earth and spirit) with which Hashem created the united Adam.

How do we see this? There is actually a hint to their natures hidden in their names. Kayin, kuf-yud-nun ihe, has letters that one could say are rooted into the ground. Kayin’s life, in all aspects, was very much rooted in the physical world both before and after the murder of his brother. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes: “Agriculture calls primarily for the expenditure of all one’s bodily strength and energies. … The soil, fertilised with his own sweat, is something which is precious to him, it contains part of his very self, it chains him, he becomes stationary, earthbound.”

Hevel, on the other hand, is composed primarily of “breathy” letters: hey-vet-lamed kcv. This is the same word used by King Solomon in Koheles (Ecclesiastes) when he claims that the pursuits of this world are empty vanity. Rav Hirsch points out that pastoral work is far less physical: “The occupation does not make such a demand on the expenditure of actual strength…and gives the mind opportunity for elevating thoughts of godliness and goodness.”

Had the family of Adam remained in Gan Eden, Kayin and Hevel would have had contrasting strengths that would have drawn them into a wonderful partnership. The Torah makes certain to tell us that “In the course of time,” (Bereshis 4:3) Kayin brought his offering to God from his produce. This happened after they were expelled from Gan Eden. Then Hevel followed suit with “the choicest of the firstlings of the flock. The Lord paid heed to Hevel and his offering, but to Kayin and his offering He paid no heed” (ibid. 4:4-5) … We all know what happened from there! In a world where the perfect balance of creation was misaligned by the eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, Kayin and Hevel were no longer “simpatico.”

Kayin, the man of the earth, looked around at the things with which he had been blessed and decided to thank God. After a day of rugged work, he chose an offering, perhaps thinking only of the basic desire to express his gratitude. Hevel, the shepherd, who spent his days looking after his sheep, contemplating his flock, contemplating their beauty and worth and the nature of life and creation, followed suit with an offering into which he brought more thought, more contemplation of the spiritual. Kayin could not understand what it was about Hevel’s offering that pleased God more, perhaps like a man of toil who cannot understand the necessity of philosophers and artists who seem not to produce anything tangible. Hevel, on the other hand, looked at the simple act of Kayin and, perhaps, thought that there was a way to bring out a more spiritual angle to this basic act of gratitude. It never occurred to him, with his mind wrapped in his own ways of thinking, that this would take away from Kayin.

Kayin and Hevel both had very definite ways of living in the world, of seeing the world, and of expressing themselves in the world. Had they still been in the Garden or had they worked together, their coordinated offerings might have been richly glorious and there would have been peace between them. In this way they were like Esav and Yaakov, the man of the field and the man of the tent. Both sets of twins brimmed with potential … had they only been able to see past their differences. Perhaps this difficulty in seeing the world from beyond one’s own personal perspective is part of the tragedy of Chava and Adam having eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

From the story of Kayin and Hevel, it is possible to find a lesson in working with those whose way of being in the world is different than our own rather than placing them in categories of “other,” of better or worse. This will lead to the ultimate gift that the Jewish people could offer to Hashem right now, the gift of unity.

1.      Hirsch, Rabbi Samsom Raphael. The Pentateuch: Volume V Deuteronomy. Translated by Isaac Levy, Judaica Press, LTD, 1999.

Being Happy with Zebulun and Issachar (Vzos Habracha #1)

One of the basic tenants upon which modern America is founded, at least according to the Declaration of Independence, is the endowment of all men, by God, with the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Perhaps there is much one can comment upon that the pursuit of happiness is given equal weight as life and liberty. This, however, is a Dvar Torah and not a political commentary, and yet it is interesting to look at the very contrasting view of the Torah. The pursuit of happiness is not a right according to Torah, but, as per the words of Rabbi Nachman of Bretzlav, being happy is a great mitzvah. What is the difference, and what does this have to do with Vzos Habracha, the final chapter in Sefer Devarim?

The difference between the right to the pursuit of happiness and the idea that being happy is a mitzvah is about intention and perspective. The former is attuned to the judgement of the individual, who determines what it is that makes him or her happy and puts that individual’s right to seek that happiness as a priority. The latter, however, provides guidance towards that which the sages might refer to as a rich man’s life, as it says in Pirkei Avot: “Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot” (Pirkei Avot 4:1). Don’t seek happiness, find how to be happy in what you have and where you are at.

The difference in this basic understanding of the role of happiness in life may be seen in the brachot Moshe gave to the tribes of Israel just before he passed away – particularly the blessing given to the Zebulun and Issachar: “Rejoice, O Zebulun, on your journeys, and Issachar, in your tents” (Devarim 33:18). In the era of diaspora, when we know not from which tribe each person hails (except for Leviim and Kohanim), the Jewish world is often divided into proto-types of Zebulun and Issachar. They are often referred to as earners and learners. Depending on the era and the community (and of course the individuals), being one or the other is often deemed either praise-worthy or deserving of condescension.

Quite obviously, neither of these attitudes is acceptable from a Torah perspective, and yet these attitudes exist. In some communities, those who work hard to earn a living and try to support Torah institutions, are subtly given the message of second-class citizenship. In such communities, children who chose to go out to work rather than dedicate themselves to learning full time are accepted but not praised. In other communities, a child declaring that he wishes to spend extra years in Yeshiva is discouraged and often pushed into a profession.

In his final words recorded in the Torah, Moshe offers an important message to every individual of Klal Yisrael: “S’mach!” – Rejoice! Be happy! Each individual should find their place and rejoice in it, for every individual can make a contribution to the overall well being of Klal Yisrael.

There is a fascinating Rashi, citing Sifrei, on the second verse of the blessing of Zebulun and Issachar, which says:

[“They invite their kin to the mountain, where they offer sacrifices of success. For they draw from the riches of the sea and the hidden hoards of the sand” (Devarim 33:19)] Through Zebulun’s trading, merchants of the world’s nations will come to his land, he living at the coast, and they will say, “Since we have taken so much trouble to reach here, let us go to Jerusalem and see what is the God of this people and what are His doings”. When they behold all Israel serving one God and eating one kind of food (only that which is permissible to them), they are astonished because as regards the other nations, the god of one is not as the god of another, and the food of one is not as the food of another, so that they will say, “There is no nation as worthy as this”, and they will therefore become proselytes to Judaism there, as it is said, “There shall they sacrifice sacrifices of righteousness.

In the modern era, when each Jew takes on the roles and responsibilities of all tribes (excluding, perhaps, Levi and Yehuda), this commentary takes on profound importance. It is a striking reminder that everything we do, from business to social interactions to our religious observances, should be done in a way to make other nations take positive note, to lead them to a desire to exclaim about the wonders of Klal Yisrael. What better way can this be achieved than by working hard to be happy in what we have and to show the world that we are in constant appreciation of all that Hashem has given us.

Let It Rain Words of Torah (Haazinu #2)

During this auspicious time of year, we are exposed to an abundance of drashot (sermons) and divrei Torah. In the world of social media, this translates to a host of video clips speeches as well. All in all, there is a great surge of words coming at us, and these words are important, for these are the words meant to inspire us to teshuva.

The majority of this week's parsha is what one might call Moshe's final sermon, although, in truth, the words of Haazinu are the words of the song Hashem taught to Moshe and Yehoshua to teach to Bnei Yisrael. The opening verses contain what one might say is an allegorical encouragement for giving Torah sermons. The parsha begins: "Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; Let the earth hear the words I utter! May my discourse come down as the rain, My speech distill as the dew, like showers on young growth, like downpours on the grass."

In these four phrases there is one common metaphor - forms of water. In fact, one could even say it is specifically water that comes from shemayim. Most of the time when one hears the comparison of Torah to water, to mayim chayim, one thinks of a river or a lake, a clean body of water thriving with life and necessary for life. But rain and dew are also forms of mayim chayim.

The Tzena Urena points out on this verse that the Midrash says: “Just as rain gives life to the entire world, so the Torah gives life to the entire world; just as dew brings joy to the people, so Torah brings joy to people.” The terms used in the first two phrases are matar and tal, just as we daven throughout the “rainy” season (in Israel) by adding “ten tal umatar" to our prayers. Tal and matar are physical blessings, so it is interesting that the second set of phrases use less familiar terms: saeerim and rvieevim. Saeerim, according to Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, could be connected to the word saeer, hair, perhaps referring to streams of rain so thick as to be visible. Riveevim, he translates as a downpour, based on the word's connection to the Hebrew word rov. The Tzena Urena explains on the word saeerim that the subtext was: “My words are like a storm wind which comes on the grass, as if it wishes to uproot it. In truth, this wind is beneficial to the grass and the crops for the wind makes it grow and strengthens it.”

Rain comes in many forms. Perhaps Moshe is telling the people, and the generations to come, that the words of Torah that he is about to impart - words that foretell hard times and teshuva – must also be seen as an over-arcing blessing. Rav Hirsch comments that Moshe wanted his words to be:

"Taking into and to the hearts of his people, and the soil of their minds and hearts which had so long remain hard had become softened and loosened, so that the seed of light and warm, of knowledge and life could come up and shoot forth, and that his promises, refreshing like the dew, would always provide the courage of his people and keep them up right in the hard times that lay before them, that both - the Torah and the Promises - would prove themselves purifying like storm-showers on the meadows and finally fructifying like a rich and plentiful fall of rain on vegetation."

Nothing in Torah is by chance, and it is not a coincidence that we read these words on the eve of Sukkot. Not only is Sukkot the time when we begin to daven for rain, and thus benefit from remembering that the bracha of rain comes in many forms, but it is the holiday during which we remind ourselves to be aware that our successes, both agricultural and otherwise, are blessings from Hashem. If we can keep that in mind throughout the year and remember to put our Avodas Hashem and His Torah first, then we can move towards the promised return written in the song of Haazinu.

Why the Little Ones? (Vayeilech #2)

In describing the mitzvah of hakahel (gathering all of the people to hear the Torah read aloud on the holiday of Sukkot once every seven years), Moshe instructs Bnei Yisrael: Gather the people -men, women, children, and the strangers in your communities - that they may hear and so learn to revere the Lord your God and to observe faithfully every word of this Teaching. Their children, too, who have not had the experience, shall hear and learn to revere the Lord your God as long as they live in the land that you are about to cross the Jordan to possess” (Devarim 31:12-13).

This is a good place to note how particularly inclusive the Torah verse is. It includes the men, the women, the children, and the strangers. Four unique parts of Klal Yisrael, each of which is integral. No part of the klal should be minimized.

Perhaps one might ask why the strangers are included, but from the perspective of the modern Jewish world in which our communities have been absorbing geirim and baalei teshuva, there is plenty of evidence of the myriad benefits of new people coming into the community. They bring inspiration and innovation to communities where people can easily fall into rote behaviors.

In the Talmud, Masechet Chagiga 3a, the Gemara asks about Devarim 31:12: “If men come to learn, and women come to hear, why do the little ones come?” The sages answer themselves: “In order [for God to] give a reward to those who bring them.”

In a way, it is a funny question. Realistically speaking, of course, if everyone was obligated to come to the gathering, didn’t they have to bring their little ones? There was no one to look after them! Then again, perhaps Moshe, in giving over God’s commandments, recognized that parents sometimes need a little extra encouragement to venture into a public event with their children or sometimes the public needs a reminder that little kids are people too! Or perhaps such thoughts of making a specific invitation to include small children is the result of the steadily growing attitude of the modern world that children are a lifestyle choice and often an inconvenience to those busy “adulting.” By now we have all seen the articles about families with children being evicted from airplanes or nursing mothers being shamed for feeding their little ones.

The truth is, the children are the ikker, the essence. They are the future. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsh commented on Devarim 31:13:

The children, who have not yet the understanding to be brought to the study and carrying out of the Torah by what they hear read out of the Torah at hakahel, are nevertheless impressed by their parents and the great concourse of people all listening attentively to the king in the pulpit, and this working on their childish minds and feelings brings them to the fear of God … the impression made by this great assembly of the whole nation to listen to the Torah being read was not without value for their future lives, even for these tiny tots.”

The Gemara in Chagiga tells us that the men were called to learn, the women to hear, and the little ones to bring reward to those who bring them. In truth, what greater reward do any Jewish parents have then knowing that they have successfully passed on their traditions to the next generations.

Perhaps you are noticing the Gemara’s specific delineation that the men come to learn and the women come to hear. In traditional Judaism, men and women have different roles in the world. However, there are some in the Orthodox world today who feel that the role of women is better kept from the public realm. Devarim 31:13 seems to be an excellent reminder that everyone, men and women both, need to attend hakahel. More than that, the public acknowledgement of women and their successes and struggles is critical for many of our young girls to grow into healthy and happy women who will pass on the Torah to their children.

Maintaining Torah from one generation to the next is a great concern for families today. There is a constant discussion about how to help keep children on the derech. Perhaps some insight can be gained from this interesting commentary of Rabbi Nassan Adler from Iturei Torah:

As everyone knows, little children disturb the religious service. They create confusion and prevent people from concentrating. Would it not have been better to leave them at home?...The Gemara answers that there is a great reward in store for those who bring them; a reward that far outweighs the drawbacks. The children’s excitement and the atmosphere of kedusha in the Beit Hamikdash will make an indelible imprint on the children’s consciousness and draw them closer to Hashem. Although, to a certain extent, Torah is neglected by the presence of little children, this is offset by the enormous pedagogical benefits that are derived from their attendance at this memorable event. … The lesson to be derived from this is that it is worthwhile giving up a degree of self-perfection for the benefit of your children’s education.

We don’t have Hakahel today, but we can make our homes, our Shabbas tables, and our places of worship into places reminiscent of the Beit Hamikdash. We can bring joy to our mitzvot observance and our learning so that our children will come to love Torah and mitzvot. The only way that Klal Yisrael can continue is by gathering ourselves together and using all of our strengths to strengthen the generations to come.

Bibliography

Hirsch, Rabbi Samsom Raphael. The Pentateuch: Volume V Deuteronomy. Translated by Isaac Levy, Judaica Press, LTD, 1999.

Furer, Dov. Torah Treasures: Selected Thoughts and Insights from the Classic Commentaries on the Parshah of the Week. Translated by Avraham Yaakov Finkel. C.I.S. Publishers and Distributors, 1993.