Statues (Va'Eschanan #3)

In this week's parsha, Parshas Va’eschanan, we read Moshe's recitation of the Aseres Hadibros, the Ten Commandments. Just as when they are first recorded in Sefer Shemos, hereto one cannot help but sense the majesty and import of these first fundamental mitzvot. While most of the Aseres Hadibros are easily understood well across the spectrum of time and space, the Second Commandment can seem a bit archaic to those of us in the 21st century: "You shall not make for yourself a sculptured image, any likeness of what is in the heavens above, or on the earth below, or in the waters beneath the earth" (Devarim 5:8). The implication of the prohibition is that this is connected to avodah zarah, idol worship, because the commandment continues: “You shall not bow down to them or serve them. For I, the Lord your God, am an impassioned God, visiting the guilt of the parents upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generations of those who reject Me, but showing kindness to the thousandth generation of those who love Me and keep My commandments” (5:9-10).

Upon first reading, one might easily scoff at the foolishness of making a statue for worship. It is easy to forget that we benefit from the prayers of the Anshei Knessesst Hagedola, who prayed that the urge for idol worship would be removed from the people. Deeming ourselves advanced and educated, we do not question that the statuary in our modern society are either artistic creations or the commissioned work of artisans designed to commemorate and/or communicate. 

Statues are powerless, obviously - and, yet, such a belief may be short-sighted. Rioters pulling down public statues are wrong for their brazen acts of destruction, for their lack of civil civic behaviour, and for their desire to ferment chaos and rewrite reality how they see it. However, perhaps their actions are a means of helping us realize that while we may not believe these statues are gods, we should not believe that graven images have no power.

The Aseres Hadibros is not the only place in Parshas Va’eschanan where the making of statues is prohibited. Moshe says to the people, "And you shall watch yourselves very well, for you did not see any images on the day that the Lord spoke to you at Horeb from the midst of the fire. Lest you become corrupt and make for yourselves a graven image, the representation of any form, the likeness of male or female" (4:15-16). - Here, Moshe is reminding the people that the greatest moment in their history cannot be encapsulated in one specific form. He is, in a way, instructing them that they cannot, with their mortal hands, capture the momentuous occasion of God giving them the Torah. It has already been recorded in its best form in the Torah itself. 

The perek continues with several similar prohibitions, such as not looking to the heavens and finding stars and celestrial objects to worship. One might easily question whether the prohibition of creating graven images was meant only for images which one intended to worship or includes images that are artistic. In truth this is a far larger topic, but there is room for leniency as long as, according to the Ba’al Ha’Turim’s understanding, one makes the form imperfect and incomplete (missing a finger, bust of a head, etc).

It is interesting to note that the prohibition of creating graven images is repeated one more time in this same perek. After telling them that he was to die, Moshe says: "Beware, lest you forget the covenant of the Lord your God, which He made with you, and make for yourselves a graven image, the likeness of anything, which the Lord your God has forbidden you” (4:23). This is not simply a repetition. This is significant. Moshe knows how much the people depend on him, how much faith they have put in him as a means of connecting to Hashem. He does not want a repeat of the cheit haegel.

But what if, one might ask, they just wanted to create something to memorialize him, a way to try to capture his personage for future generations? This is the question we can relate to, and it can be answered with another question - Can a statue capture a man in his full essence or fully articulate the values of a society? Essentially, the answer is no. At the time of their commissioning, most of the statue that are now at the heart of the controversy were created with the idea of capturing the essence of something society felt was important. Time changed, history was reinterpreted, a new generation decided that those values were wrong and these remnants of the past could and should be destroyed. 

Imagine if a statue of Moshe had been made. Beyond the risk, noted by many mefarshim as the reason we do not even know where he is buried, that it would come to be worshipped in its own right, such a statue would forever limit our ability to relate to him beyond that image. Our understanding of Moshe and his role in bringing us the Torah must be understandable for every generation, not a limited image. 

At the end of the Second Commandment, Hashem states: “I, the Lord your God, am an impassioned God, visiting the guilt of the parents upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generations of those who reject Me, but showing kindness to the thousandth generation of those who love Me and keep My commandments” (5:9-10). Ultimately, what is right and what is wrong in our times and in times past and in the future  is up to God to decide, for his understanding of time and place is truly limitless. 

How Generations Change (Devarim #3)

It is interesting to note that when Moshe begins his final address to Klal Yisrael, a review of all that they have experienced as a nation, he does not begin with leaving Egypt, crossing the Sea, or even receiving the Torah at Sinai. Instead, he begins with a listing of their journeys and the setting up of a system of civil courts. The only laws that appear to be repeated in Parshas Devarim are commandments meant to ensure impartiality in the judicial system. While the parsha speaks of several occurrences in the wilderness, the two most prominent seem to be the incident of the scouts and the land allocation of Reuvain, Gad, and half of Menashe. Thus it is worth wondering at Moshe’s choice of these the two main narratives for the opening parsha of Sefer Devarim.

Although both of these stories are recorded in Sefer Bamidar and read just a few weeks before Parshas Devarim, they occurred years - actually decades - apart. They are, in truth, opposites: the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. When the scouts returned from the Promised Land and put fear in the hearts of the nation, that was the end of the first era of Klal Yisrael’s journey. The raw energy of emergence, of change, of becoming a nation at Sinai, here proved itself unsustainable as the driving force of this nation. Even after all of the blatant miracles and God’s forgiveness after the Golden Calf, the people demonstrated an inherent inability to truly trust Hashem or believe in their own worthiness.

The generation that saw “explosive” miracles, that sang the great Shira at the Yam Suf, blunted their own spiritual fire. Certainly, part of this came from their having begun as slaves, and possibly some of it was because the actual impact of each of their experiences had been so majestically miraculous.

Moshe was able to grant the request of Reuvain and Gad because this generation was different from their fathers’ generation. They knew of the great and wonderous miracles, but the miracles in their own lives – while still spectacular to us today – were both more subtle and more constant.  When we today think about the generation of the wilderness, we think of how wonderous it must have been to have been close to active miracles, to have witnessed a cloud descending on the Tent of Meeting or experienced life fully provided for by Hashem (manna, water from Miriam’s well, ever-lasting clothing…). But for that generation, raised since their youth surrounded by these active miracles, it must have been difficult to even perceive them as miraculous – this was just life. Hashem was a tangible presence in their lives – providing cause and effect, consequences such as Korach being swallowed by the earth. And even though their life was “easy,” they were ready to go forward and put in the necessary work and effort.

The granting of the land in response to the request from Reuvain and Gad demonstrated the difference of this second generation to that of their elders. Their request was not a demand, as, it is now explained, had been the idea to send the scouts. Indeed, according to numerous commentators, when Moshe says: V’tikravoon eyli koolchem, and you gathered around me all of you, he is subtly describing how the generation that came from Egypt had forced the idea of the scouts upon him, how they were impatient and demanding. The second generation, however, was willing to put their own effort into building their towns and fighting beside their brethren. They represented how Klal Yisrael as a whole was ready to begin the last stage of their journey to enter the Promised Land – ready to fight and to work and, most importantly, to trust in Hashem.

Thousands of years later, we reside here in galus, and we yearn for redemption. We sigh and we hope and we wonder – and yes, I think it is a thought that crosses everyone’s mind once in a while – we wonder why we do not have such open miracles as those of our ancestors. We imagine how much easier it would be to have emunah shelaima – complete faith – if we just witnessed an open miracle or two. And we are not asking for Yam Suf; we would be satisfied with Miram’s well or heaven-sent manna. But perhaps Moshe opened his address this way to Klal Yisrael because he was not speaking only to the people before him, but to the generations upon generations to come. Open miracles are not the answer, they do not build a strong core of bitachon. In order to prepare for the conclusion of our own journey, we need to learn to accept the constant miracles that surround us with gratitude, put our trust in Hashem, and be ever-ready to work on moving forward.

A brief note of thanks and a dedication:

Parshas Devarim marks the anniversary of my writing Parsha posts. I have now completed two years, although I cannot say that I have managed every week in either year (thank you Corona!)

This Personal Parsha Prose was written on Friday, 3 Av 5780, the yahrtzeit of my Great-Grandfather Elias Gartel, l’ilyui neshama Eliyahu ben Yitzchak Halevi.

Underlying the Action (Matos)

The narrative of the Shevatim of Reuvain and Gad seeking land east of the Jordan River is fascinating in its many nuances. Indeed, one of the most popular divrei Torah on this section comments on the subtle way Moshe corrected the petitioners’ emphasis on their sheep to remind them of the importance of placing the needs of their families first.

Reading through this narrative, it is interesting to note that, in responding to their request, Moshe refers – somewhat lengthily - directly to the actions of the scouts. In fact, he lays out the story in cold hard facts, making certain that they understand that this was the cause of the death of a generation and their extensive time in the wilderness. He concludes by challenging them: "And now you, a breed of sinful men, have replaced your fathers, to add still further wrath against Israel. If you turn away from Him and He abandons them once more in the wilderness, you will bring calamity upon all this people" (32:15).

Jewish tradition seems to have a strong ideology against holding one's familial background against them - a convert is not to be asked about their background, baalei teshuva should not be inconsiderately reminded of their past lives - so is not it unfair for Moshe to make such a seemingly strong accusation?

One could certainly get into psycho-analyzing Moshe’s reaction. He is old and knows he is about to be "gathered unto his fathers," so the idea of anything keeping the people out of the Promised Land creates a particularly strong reaction from him. Indeed, he might even have felt quietly resentful of the actions that seemed to have determined that his death would be in the wilderness (whereas 40 years earlier he would have led them into the Promised Land).

The Reubenites and the Gadites hear his message and immediately change the presentation of their request to one that attaches them to the Promised Land and their fellow tribes by including themselves in the upcoming war. It is also revised to place their families ahead of their flocks. The plan is modified to include half of Menasha, and it is approved.

This incident has many potential lessons. For those of us living in these times, perhaps the most poignant is to remember how each action we take is about more than just ourselves and our personal needs. We have to always remember how our actions, be they individual or group, might affect the entire People of Israel. Reuven and Gad wanted the land, they saw how they could use the expanse of grazing land for their cattle and sheep. Theirs was a legitimate, purposeful desire, but they neglected to stop and think about how their request might be understood by the rest of the nation. Every day, we go out into the world as individuals. We strive to make a living, to run our homes and families, to accomplish our goals, and so it is very easy to think only of how our actions might affect ourselves or those immediately around us. The truth, however, is that we must constantly be asking ourselves about the greater impact of our actions. Are we influencing someone else in a negative way? Are we making a Kiddush Hashem? Might we be doing something that will cause a negative reaction for Klal Yisrael as a whole? Moshe recounted the story of the spies to remind Reuvain and Gad how the wrong attitude of a few became contagious and hurt the people as a whole, and the while their intended actions may seem innocuous, they needed to make certain that their attitude was properly aligned. It is a lesson that is pertinent to every generation.

Channelling Zealotry (Pinchus)

Every few years, the world seems to grow angry. Protests and fighting seem to increase. It would seem that now is the perfect time for the world to examine the parsha of Pinchas, which begins with a declaration straight from God that Pinchus’ actions, detailed at the end of the previous parsha, were righteous.  One might sum Pinchas up by saying: Once there was a man named Pinchas who slew two people and received the praise of God because he did so out of zealotry to defend God’s honor and the rightfulness of the Children of Israel. In this day and age, however, perhaps that narrative should include a line that says: Don’t try this at home!

Upon first reading the narrative of Pinchas, one comes away with a belief that Pinchas’s action, which was to throw a spear at Zimri and Cosbi in an act of acute immoral behavior, was accepted by all as praiseworthy. However, as noted by numerous commentators, the very fact that God had to “step forward,” so to speak, and pronounce Pinchas’ actions as right and proper is an indication that many people believed that he was culpable for murder, that he did wrong by slaying a prince (Zimri).  Certainly, Pinchas immediately explained his actions, and certainly there were many people who supported him and understood why he did what he did. The fact that God spoke up for him is a reminder of how precarious it is for anyone to assume that their actions are righteous, that their zealotry is pure. Only by God specifying that it was indeed true that Pinchas had intent only for God’s honor are we assured of this fact.

We live in an era without overt Divine intervention – meaning in ways such as Hashem speaking to us. We can only make assumptions of understanding how Hashem runs the world, and therefore we cannot even hope to be accurate by announcing that any particular behaviour is the reason for current situations. We many want to be like Pinchus, but we do not have the clarity of righteousness that Pinchus had. Therefore, we have to be careful in how we manage the zealotry of our anger. Of course, as members of a modern society we would never think of literally killing another person. Instead, we destroy them with words, with posts that cut apart their lives.

Pinchas was unique in that he was able to harness his zealotry, his fiery passion, to focus completely on God and honoring God. The honest truth is that most of the time people speak in righteous indignation, about any subject, there is a piece of them, maybe even a very, very small piece, that is speaking up for their own honor. Perhaps the small voice is to be recognized by the crowd of like-minded thinkers, or perhaps it is to be acknowledged for the cleverness of the remark or the astuteness of the observation, or perhaps even just to help shape the world into the way in which the speaker truly believes it is meant to be. But it is rare that the goal is be a continuation of God’s will, as was Pinchas’.

This does not mean that we should hide our beliefs or not stand up for what is right. There is actually an incredible juxtaposition in how to handle different situations when one reads forward in the parsha and comes to the narrative of the daughters of Tzlephchad. As the rules were being laid out for the division of the Land of Israel, somewhat based on the numbers accounted for in a new census, the daughters of Tzlephchad stepped forward and stated that as they had no brothers, they should, by right, inherit the portion that would have been their dead fathers. Moshe took their case to Hashem, who agreed with the five sisters. It is a segue into the laws of inheritance, but it also shows that sometimes passion that is harnessed into rational discussion can bring about change through more structured channels.

The daughters of Tzelaphchad presented a “landmark” case, shifting the laws of inheritance. One could say they took a chance of being rejected. One could argue that orderly channels are often clogged and unavailable. These points are true, in the modern world, and so what we must aim for is to find a middle ground. Hashem gave humankind the Torah, and He set the Jewish people with the task of being a light unto the nations. It is up to us to maintain those laws, to build a Torah society – but to do this we must learn to refrain from tainted zealotry and to include passionate righteousness in our quest to bring holiness to the world.