Parshas Re’eh – The Source of the Evyon

Shemita, the seventh year, is known as the year when the Promised Land is to lie fallow. Of equal significance, Shemita is the year in which all debts between Jews must be forgiven. This remission is described in Parshas Re’eh, in Devarim 15, where the word evyon is used six times. Evyon, which is translated as destitute (by Artscroll), is not a common term. The term usually used for someone in need is Oni.

 

The first use of Evyon in Devarim 15 is in the fourth pasuk, right after the Torah states that one may collect from a foreigner but not from one’s brethren (meaning fellow Jews). Devarim 15:4-5 states: “There shall be no destitute among you – since Hashem will bless you in the land that Hashem our God is giving to you as an inheritance; if only you heed Hashem your God and take care to keep all these mitzvos that I command you today.”

 

The last use of the word Evyon in Devarim 15 is in the eleventh pasuk, right after the Torah instructs the people not to hesitate to lend money to their fellow Israelites even if it is close to the Shemita year. Devarim 15:11 states: “For there will never cease to be destitute in your land, which is why I command you: open your hand to your poor and your destitute in your land.”

 

How is it possible that Verse 4 states that there will be no destitute and verse 11 states that there will always be destitute? The commentators (and I apologize for not noting which ones) describe the juxtaposition of verse 4 and 11 as the ideal and what will be reality. If Bnei Yisrael were to keep all of the mitzvos, as stated in pasuk 5, then the nation would have absolute balance and bracha. Alas, the chances that all of the generations would manage to live up to this ideal were predictably low. Therefore, Moshe reproves the people against their own human nature, warning them not to withhold help. “Rather, open your hand to him and lend whatever is sufficient to his need” (15:8). Giving with an open heart, Moshe assures the people, is the path to bracha.

 

There is little to question over the fact that giving with an open heart, without hesitation or worry over one’s own well-being, is a very difficult standard to achieve. It is a way of thinking, a way of being, that comes from deep felt bitachon, a complete trust in Hashem’s management of the world. That in itself could be the lesson of Devarim 15: 1-11, but…

 

It is interesting to investigate the use of this word evyon; perhaps all the more so because it is used in conjunction with the word oni in 15:11. Rashi, quoting Leviticus Rabbah 34:6, states that the term evyon “denotes one who longs for everything (because he lacks everything).” This is not just poor, not just needing a hand up. The evyon has nothing, and it is a very sad state of society when there are people who reach that level of destitution.

Rather than reading 15:4 and 15:11 as juxtapositions of the ideal and the realistic, perhaps these seemingly contradictory verses offer an important insight into the justness of Torah law. If Bnei Yisrael were to keep all of the mitzvos, then society should operate in a way that everyone’s basic needs are met. It isn’t just a bracha from Hashem. It is the very mechanism of the mitzvos bein adam l’chavero functioning properly. Neighbors should be looking after neighbors. People should be living v’ahata l’reicha kamocha. If they live in such a fashion, no one should slip through the cracks and reach rock bottom.

 

But while the Torah is perfect, people are not. When Bnei Yisrael does not live up to the Torah ideal, then there will be people in deep and dire need. When we help them, we are rectifying a situation that we ourselves have created.

 

Living an upstanding Jewish life requires constant perseverance in rejecting human natures more self-centered motivations, which stem from an instinct for survival but are excellent tools of the yetzer harah (evil inclination). It is not easy to give with a smile, without hesitation or suspicion. Hashem knows this. The Torah is giving us an ideal to strive for, and it is up to us to take the steps (large or small or even baby-steps) to achieve it.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

 

 

 

 

Parshas Eikev - Love-Eat-Pray

In Parshas Eikev there is an interesting repetition of the idea of eating and being satisfied that is located in Devarim 8:10 and 8:12. Although it is not so uncommon to find repetition in one section of the Torah, in this case the repetition is actually a juxtaposition of the right way to live life and the wrong way to live life. Verse 8:10, which states “And you will eat, and you will be satisfied, and you shall bless the Lord, your God, for the good land He has given you,” is the conclusion of the description of the experience of Hashem’s fatherly love, a love in which we are sometimes tested in order to help us grow strong and a love in which we are rewarded with a wonderful, fulfilling, and independent national life.

 

Devarim 8:12, on the other hand, is a warning. On its own it reads: “lest you eat and be satisfied, and build good houses and dwell therein.” A seeming bracha except for that word lest…Lest you “forget the Lord, your God, by not keeping His commandments, His ordinances, and His statutes, which I command you this day” (8:11), the previous pasuk.

 

The same idea of eating and being satisfied – an allusion to comfort and wealth – is transformed from an act that brings reward to an act that leads to destruction, and the biggest difference is the inclusion of the action of blessing, the active acknowledgement of Hashem. Devarim 8:7-10 describes living in a beautiful land of abundance. So does Devarim 8:12-13. The difference is that these latter verses are a warning against becoming haughty and forgetting all that Hashem did for us, in which case we risk being destroyed as Hashem destroyed the nations that came before us in the land.

 

How do we avoid the “lest”? How do we keep from becoming haughty? The key, we learn in Parshas Eikev, is love. It sounds a bit corny, but the term love (ahava) is used seven times in this weeks parsha. Sometimes it is Hashem’s love for Bnei Yisrael, as in 7:13: “And He will love you and bless you and multiply you; He will bless the fruit of your womb and the fruit of your soil, your grain, your wine, and your oil, the offspring of your cattle and the choice of your flocks, in the land which He swore to your forefathers to give you...”

 

Other times, however, later in the parsha, the word love is used in the language of commandment, in the language of instruction: “And now, O Israel, what does the Lord, your God, ask of you? Only to fear the Lord, your God, to walk in all His ways and to love Him, and to worship the Lord, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul” (10:12).

 

The question is frequently asked in relation to the first paragraph recited after Shema, the paragraph known as v’ahavta (Devarim 6:5-9), how can one be commanded to love? Love is an emotion. Love is a feeling. But Jewish tradition speaks of love as something we can build and control. Love is a feeling that is directly connected to acts of giving. The more one gives to another, the more one loves that other. In order to love Hashem, we must give to Hashem, which seems an impossible act.

 

How can Bnei Yisrael give anything to Hashem? He is the Almighty. It is an overwhelming concept, but it is achievable and the Torah explains how: “[Therefore] you shall love the Lord, your God, keep His charge, His statutes, His ordinances, and His commandments, all the days” (11:1).

 

Every time a mitzvah is performed, someone is loving Hashem. Every time one of the Torah commandments is observed, someone is loving Hashem. This is how Bnei Yisrael can give to God.

 

Another means of giving to Hashem is prayer – not the prayer itself, really, but the action of remembering and acknowledging all the Hashem does. “V’achalta, v’savata, U’VERACHTA - And you will eat, and you will be satisfied, and YOU SHALL BLESS the Lord” (8:10) is the source for the commandment to say Birkat Hamazon, the Grace After Meals. There is no more basic need than food. This seems an obvious point. But eating is actually quite complex. Eating fills far more than a sense of hunger. Eating meets a physical need, a psychological need, an emotional need, and a spiritual need. In this pasuk, eating represents all of our needs. When our needs – from the smallest to the largest – are met, we must remember to bless Hashem, to acknowledge Him as the wellspring of all that is in the world.

 

V'ahavta sounds like an easy mitzvah. It is not. It is in our nature to take our blessings for granted, to assume our own power and greatness. It is in our nature to hurry on to feed and satisfy our next need or desire. This is why v’ahavta and u’verachta are commandments.

 

Hashem loves us and wants us to live our lives in the best possible way. Our job is to remember that He has already given us the key to achieving that goal.

 

Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas

 

*Eat Pray Love was a book written in 2006 that was then made into a movie.

 

Parshas Va’eschanan – Because of Hashem’s Love

Va’eschanan el Hashem – “And I implored to Hashem…” Thus Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest prophet and teacher in Jewish history, states at the beginning of this week’s parsha when he reminds the people that he is going to die and will not lead them into the Promised Land.

 

Well, goodness! Let’s be honest…If Moshe’s pleading with Hashem didn’t work, what chance is there that my prayers will? We read about Moshe’s “crime” of striking the rock instead of speaking to it, and we (meaning an average, ordinary person) wonder how this could be considered such an unforgiveable error. The only real answer is that the world, Hashem’s world, is so much bigger than we can understand, and, in many ways, this is an undercurrent of this weeks parsha.

 

Parshas Va’eschanan’s first independent perek - since it starts with the last seven verses of perek gimmel – begins with Moshe’s warning to the people to “listen to the decrees and the ordinances that I teach you to perform, so that you may live, and you will come and possess the Land that Hashem, the God of your forefathers, gives you. You shall not add to the word that I command you, nor shall you subtract from it, to observe the commandments of Hashem your God, that I command you” (4:1-3). And again, the most honest reaction one might have is to wonder what might be wrong with enhancing one’s devotion, with adding laws to make society more zealous or remove a law for the sake of making the world more just. But the Torah tells us straight out that this is not something we are capable of, not even the most holy of us can cross the line of God’s commandments…

…because then we all do. Moshe’s repetitious reminder against creating a carved image of any type is followed immediately by the declaration that “When you beget children and grandchildren and will have been long in the Land, you will grow corrupt and make a carve image of anything, and you will do evil in the eyes of Hashem” (4:25).

 

The consequence of our betrayal shall be – has been - our scattering through the nations, our loss of “rank,” so to speak and, more significantly, our lack of connection. When we think that we can understand Hashem enough to create carved images or enough to transform His laws, that is when we become lost. That is when we must seek our way back to the basics so that the covenant can be revived.

 

Devarim 4:29 speaks of this process. It says: “From there you’all (to represent 2^nd person plural) will seek Hashem, your God, and you will find him if you’all search for him with all your heart and with all your soul.” This is a fascinating and revelatory pasuk. The actions that must be taken are stated in second person plural, but the other verbs and pronouns (including Hashem Elokecha) are second person singular. We as a people must come to understand what our laws and our role in the world mean, but each individual must find his/her own path within that law, they must find the path with their heart and their soul individually.

 

Moshe lists all the wonders and miracles and proofs of Bnei Yisrael’s unique relationship with Hashem, but all these miracles were done, Moshe explains, “in order for you [Bnei Yisrael] to know that Hashem, He is the God. There is none beside him” (4:35). And they were done for klal Yisrael, for Moshe, for the people who left Mitzrayim, and for the people gathered before him that day…all these miracles were done because “He loved your forefathers, and He chose his offspring after him…” (4:37).

 

Parshas Va’eschanan contains the most famous lines of the Torah, the most significant words in a Jew’s life: Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem, Echad…” (6:4). It also contains the commandment to “Love Hashem your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might…” (6:5).

 

We have trouble staying within the lines of our restrictions because we cannot be to Hashem as Hashem is to us. Hashem loves Bnei Yisrael because He “sees” in us the traits of spiritual passion and spiritual awareness that Avraham possessed. He gives to Bnei Yisrael unceasingly, with all His might. Hashem gives because He knows clearly the critical role we are meant to play in this world, and everything the happens to Bnei Yisrael – collectively and individually – is meant to help us connect to that role. We cannot ever match His love for us, His care for us. Hashem knows that. Hashem knows the limitations of being human. That is why He gave us these guidelines as set down in our Torah.

 

We were not chosen for our own merits. We were chosen because of Hashem’s love. Now we must put our efforts, all of our efforts, into returning that love - And Hashem tells us exactly how to do it: With all our heart, with all our soul and with all our might, by following the laws of His Torah.  

 

A Personal Reflection on Tisha B’Av night 5782

Tisha B’Av is always a struggle. How do I relate to this day, to the loss that reverberates through history but seems, at the same time, so very foreign to me. I can’t even imagine the miracles that were known to occur in the Beis Hamikdash. Indeed, I can’t imagine a place where bringing korbanos uplifted the people spiritually. I read about it – I write about it – and I daven daily that it should return, but I can honestly say I can’t actually conceive of it.

 

People do not like to talk about their spiritual challenges, not when you live in a frum community. We like to talk about spiritual topics and about problems in the frum world. We easily speak of the problems that we think everyone can related to like not being able to concentrate on davening or never having time to listen to shiur.

 

On Tisha B”Av, however, the real challenge is presented square in our face – at least for me.  I don’t relate. I only have the fraction of an idea of what it is I am supposed to relate too! I want to cry and yearn and feel my isolation from the Shechina, but I am not even really sure what I would feel if we were not cut off. I mean, the descriptions of it all are a little… awe-overwhelming, and I think I am being honest enough to say that the very human part of me that fears change, that likes the safety of the known and the surety of my achievements thus far (little as they may really be on the spiritual level), is scared of knowing what we have lost.

 

One of my children asked me why people watch videos about the Holocaust on Tisha B’Av. I explained that they help people stay in the somber mood, help them connect to the utter tragedy that is woven through our incredible history. The child noted that the destructions were not what we were supposed to be mourning, but rather we should be mourning our disconnect from Hashem. The child is wise; the child is young.

 

Most years I, too, need help finding the mood, and I probably will at some point tomorrow. But this year, as we headed into our day of mourning, I had other thoughts.  On Tisha B’Av we are mourning the fact that our spiritual home is broken, and I know now the pain of a home that is broken.  I know waking up and feeling loss, feeling sadness and pain and anger and the desperate desire to know how to put things right. I know the heartache of seeing my children have hurt that I cannot heal, that I cannot fix, even though it is the thing that I most wish for.  Is this, Hashem, how You feel?

 

My pain right now is … selfish. Selfish in that it is bound to me and my family. I can only imagine, Hashem, how much pain we have caused You. I can only being to think I understand the pain I should be feeling for the loss of our everything.

Being Bnei Yisrael means many things. One of my favorite understandings of the term Yisrael is  “He who wrestles with God.” In true honesty, right now, I am not wrestling with God… I am not yet on a level to even conceive of what that would feel like.

 

The pain of the day of Tisha B’Av is rooted in the crying out of Bnei Yisrael after the report of the spies. They were scared to go into Eretz Yisrael. They were scared to let go of the spiritual lives that they were living in the Wilderness, to be on their own and responsible for themselves even as Hashem promised them that He would be there with them.

 

They were scared to accept their independence with the Shechina among them, and I am scared of what that actual spiritual dependence might look and feel like. I live so deeply in the Olam Hazeh that I have to work to mourn, that I often need to find tools to help me maintain my mourning on this day.

 

The deep and difficult emotional tumult of my recent life has given me pause for thought. I now know what it means to feel bereft, to feel lost and empty and shattered… emotions I had never really experienced in the many years of my life.  As I sit here and listen to Eicha, I am becoming aware that the feeling of my personal life are, perhaps, a shadow of the feelings I should feel about the loss of Beis Hamikdash, about the loss of the ability to understand what it means to have the Shechina dwell among us.

 

And I feel like, perhaps, I can understand that Hashem “feels” a similar loss from the other side, that He wants to understand how we, His people, gave up on everything we built together.

 

Tonight is Tisha B’Av, the night and the day on which our people cry for ourselves, cry for what we have been through and cry for what we have lost.  I have a long, long way to go on my spiritual journey, on my path out of the wilderness that is truly full of thorns and bristles, to even think of standing on the precipice of a spiritual haven. But this year I feel, just a little more, like I understand how I should feel about all that we are missing.

Parshas Devarim - US

As a lover of language, there is something spectacular about the subtle flexibility of the Hebrew language. The addition of a letter at the beginning of a word can transform the meaning of the entire sentence, and the shift of a suffix alters the pronouns associated with the word. This subtle nuance of language can add a tremendous message to pasukim, and in Parshas Devarim, the pronoun that Moshe focuses on for the first time is, perhaps, the most important one that Bnei Yisrael must remember as they look at their past and head into their future.

 

Us… Our. These are powerful terms. These are terms that create a nation. These are terms that it would behoove us to remember today, as we begin Tisha B’Av (Shabbas, with the fast on the Sunday, the 10^th of Av). It is well-known that the destruction of the second Beis Hamikdash is attributed to the lack of unity among the Jewish people. The greater “Us” was shattered into us and us and us. It is, sadly, a rift that we have not yet healed – indeed, it has continued to splinter into ever greater discord as the generations proceed.

 

What is unique about the use of “Us/Our” in Parshas Devarim? Verse 1:6 states:  “Hashem, our God, spoke to us in Horeb saying…” If you just read the parsha, the wording feels so common, so un-noteworthy, that it does not make one pause and reflect – especially as it occurs so early in sefer. But, from what I can see, this terminology “our God” is actually rather uncommon in the Torah. The last time the term was used was in Sefer Shemos, and then only in the context of Moshe and Aaron speaking to Pharaoh.  It has not, until this point, been used to address the people.

 

In Shemos, Vayikra, and Bamidbar (Bereishis being a unique sefer), Moshe frequently reiterates to the Children of Israel – or is instructed to reiterate to them – the commandments of God. In these three sfarim, however, Moshe almost exclusively speaks in the second person. He speaks, consistently, to the Children of Israel and talks to them about “Hashem Elokeichem, the Lord your God.” And while he is addressing them as a whole through the second-person plural, it is, in syntax, distancing. It is a language that, if nothing else, segregates the speaker (Moshe) from the audience.

 

Moshe’s distance was necessary. Beyond the fact that he was set apart from the nation because of his unique and incredible level, because he was the only human given the opportunity to come that close to Hashem and to communicate with Him so directly, Moshe needed to speak tp the people this way in order to lead them and communicate Hashem’s words to them. As Bnei Yisrael wandered through the wilderness, Moshe needed to represent “din,” the rule of law.

 

As Sefer Devarim begins, however, Moshe’s job is coming to an end. Now that Moshe knows that the journey is winding down, that the people are ready, he begins his final address with a reminder that everything that has happened, everything that has been commanded, is for Klal Yisrael all together.

 

“The Lord our God spoke to us at Horeb (Sinia),” (Devarim 1:6). On a surface level, this phrase refers to a very specific event. When Hashem began to give the Torah at Sinai, He called out the first few of the Ten Commandments so that everyone could hear. But the people were struck with such awe, with such fear, that they begged Moshe to receive the commandments for them. “Let us not die, then, for this fearsome fire will consume us; if we hear the voice of Hashem our God any longer, we shall die” (Devarim 5:22).

 

Rhetorically, however, as the first words that Moshe speaks in Sefer Devarim, “our God, spoke to us” is a call for the nation to look at themselves as a we, as an us, as a people with far more to hold them together than to set them apart. And it does not matter if he reverts to the use of second-person plural when he reiterates events or repeats the mitzvos to remind them. In the opening words of his speech, Moshe has set the tone of unity. (And, one might note, Hashem Elokeinu, is used approximately 25 times in the sefer).

 

We live in a time where it seems even the fight for Jewish unity, so seemingly prominent in recent decades past, has been resignedly put to the side. We live in a time when we hope, and pray, and gently inquire, for Jews outside of the Orthodox realm, to maintain their Jewish identity and to pass it on to their children. And within the Orthodox realm, we live in an era when hashgafic details create cracks that our children use to pick one another apart on the school playgrounds. The Lord OUR God spoke to US! This is our God. This is our Torah. And we cannot properly move forward unless we start to actively think of ourselves – and not just talk about ourselves -  in this manner.

 

Tisha B’Av is here. We are, sadly once again, sitting down to cry about the destruction. We mourn the loss of the Beis Hamikdash, not the physical place but rather the ability to have the Shechina, the spirit of Hashem, dwell among US. All of the people stood at Horeb and heard Hashem’s words, those who would come to rebel, those who would run to bring a gift to the Mishkan, those who would come to complain and those who sought to move forward, those who come to sin and those who would suffer for the sin of others. It doesn’t matter. Our nation is not perfect, and we never were. But we are a nation and Hashem is OUR God.

 

May this be our last Tisha B”Av and May we see Klal Yisrael come together in love and unity.