Parshas Haazinu – Israel’s Impact on the World

Dedicated to a Refuah Shelaima for Chaya Sofya Sara bas Mera, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Tova bas Perel, Binyamin ben Simcha, and Betzalel Tzvi ben Chaya Yocheved.

Parshas Haazinu, this week’s parsha, is not an easy read. Comprised almost entirely of song, it is Biblical poetry, which requires far deeper levels of interpretation to understand the inferences and references. The song of Haazinu was sung by Moshe to the people and reveals the past and the future. It is terrible to hear of the calamities that have, and will continue to, befall us while Hashem’s face is hidden, and comforting to know that all of it balances out with the ultimate redemption that is to come.

Interestingly, the first historical reference that Moshe makes is to the Dor Haflaga, the generation of the Migdal Bavel, the Tower of Babel:

“When the Most High gave nations their lot, when He separated the sons of man, He set up the boundaries of peoples according to the number of the children of Israel. Because the Lord's portion is His people Yaakov, the lot of His inheritance” (32:8-9).

Those familiar with Bereishis might be scratching their heads and contemplating whether they have ever noticed a specific connection to the Tower of Bavel and Bnei Yisrael, and didn’t that take place well before Avraham? Actually, according to the Midrashic calculations, Avraham was 48 years old when Migdal Bavel occurred. He was all ready well on his path of promoting a recognition that there could only be one Creator and Ruler of the Universe.

Migdal Bavel, when the people (led by Nimrod) built a tower to go to war against God, was a declaration of humanity’s intent not to recognize the Ultimate Omnipotence. They inherently knew Hashem was in charge, or else they would not have thought to fight Him. The people took freewill to the extreme and wanted to be free to believe and worship in their idols, which were dependent on humankind, unlike Hashem.

When Hashem struck down the people of the Tower and separated them into nations (linguistically), He could have chosen to make Avraham the greatest nation physically. He could have divided them into small enough subsets that it was guaranteed that Avraham’s descendants would rise above them in power and might. But Haazinu informs us that “He set up the boundaries of peoples according to the number of the children of Israel.”

We often puzzle over the seemingly shrinking population of Klal Yisrael. Our numbers grow but our percentage to the world population is, and has always been, shockingly small. And this makes our impact tremendous.

Some people say this idea and then bring up our vast number of thinkers, scientists, artists, and politicians. The bizarre number of Jewish Noble Prize winners is a frequently stated fact. But the tremendous impact is none of those. The tremendous impact of our consistently small community is spiritual. Through all of the ups and downs our people experience, this is what Hashem needs us to remember. Everything in history became proscribed by the actions of klal Yisrael. “He set up the boundaries of peoples” refers not simply to physical boundaries or linguistic differences, but to the entire development of humanity. Everything is affected by the state of our nation.

This Shabbas is Shabbas Shuva, the Shabbas that falls during the Aseres Ymei Teshuva. Yom Kippur is Sunday night. Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement, and while we often and naturally focus on our personal atonement, it is significant to remember that the Yomim Noarayim affect the entire world. Every nation – and every person – stands in judgement on Rosh Hashana. The very world stands in judgement! And that process continues through on Yom Kippur.

This seemingly simple verse in Parshas Haazinu is a reminder that the boundaries of the peoples are set according to Bnei Yisrael. Our tefilos have the power to change the world, because Hashem set our people aside to be his inheritance.

I want to wish you all a Gmar Chasima Tova, May you individually, and may the entire nation, be sealed in the Book of Good, and may our prayers help heal the world.

Rosh Hashana: Lessons from Hagar

On most Jewish holidays, the Torah portion that is read is the section of the Torah that commands the celebration of the holiday or provides details of its observance. On Rosh Hashana, however, we read the Torah portion that culminates in the Akeidah, the near sacrifice of Yitzchak. The reasoning for this Torah reading seems obvious – the horn of the ram that was offered up on lieu of Yitzchak is the proto-shofar. Even more interesting than the fact that a narrative from Bereishis is the Torah portion rather than a more rule focused text is the fact that the parsha is divided between the two days of the chag and we only actually read about the Akeidah on the second day of Rosh Hashana. The Torah reading of the first day begins with the birth of Yitzchak, but a large portion of the text relays the story of the banishment of Hagar and Yishmael. When considering the weight of the day, it seems odd that this is what we are reading about.

I’ve thought a lot about Hagar. She is a fascinating personality in the Torah. In many ways, she is the quintessential other. She isn’t an evil enemy out to destroy the Jewish people. She isn’t a greedy oppressor. She might have continued to worship avodah zara, but it isn’t a distinguishing feature of her persona, even in the midrashim. She does not fit into the world Avraham and Sarah are trying to build, a world where there can be a true relationship with Hashem, but it is not from a lack of wanting.

Perhaps the most important action in Hagar’s story in the context of Rosh Hashana is the description of Hagar crying out to Hashem… and Hashem responding. The Torah shows us someone who is clearly not a tzadekes, someone who is not focused on kedusha or chesed, that is able to turn to Hashem in a moment of pain and connect.

Hagar is one of the most complex characters in the Torah. Don’t laugh…think about it. According to the Midrash, she was a princess who joined Avraham and Sarah in Egypt as a handmaid because she saw how significant they were spiritually; she wanted to be part of their mission, but she could never escape her background. She couldn’t break free of who she was and what she knew – but, at least from how I understand it, she really did try. She wanted to be the one to give Avraham an heir, but her pettiness tainted her and brought her low. She loved, she hated, she desired, she admired…

It seems to me that it would not be such a stretch to say that when Hagar wept for her dying child, she was really weeping for herself. She was weeping for everything that she had thrown away – not lost but thrown away. She had come to Avraham and Sarah’s tents with so much potential, so much intention… and all the little dramas of life had cast her off her path. And when she cried over this loss of direction, Hashem spoke to her and told her that He had heard her child’s cry and that that child would be made into a great nation.

Rosh Hashana is the new year for all people, and so it is appropriate that we are reminded that all people are btzelem Elokim and that we have the ability to learn and to grow from all people. Reading the narrative of Hagar’s banishment isn’t just a necessary interlude to get to the Akeidah, rather it is a powerful lesson unto itself. Hagar’s tears at how far she has fallen from the path she sought can remind us of how painful it is to go off track, of how we have the opportunity to readjust. More importantly, Hagar’s tears remind us that if we feel we cannot do it alone, we should turn to Hashem; we should cry out. Our tears are never in vain for all of us have toldos – that which comes after us. In Hagar’s case, it was the promise of the good to come in her future generations (the more literal translation of toldos). For many of us, it might be the blessing Hashem intends to extend to our future actions, to the potential for good that can follow even after we feel we have missed our mark.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a ksiva v’chasima tova and that the year ahead should be one in which we all have clarity and bitachon, and we reach our potential, and the world is full of simcha and bracha.

Nitzvaim-Vayelech: Thought for this time of year

Every Elul, I participate in a phenomenal group of women who share divrei Torah throughout the month (and into Tishrei, until Yom Kippur). This is my piece this year, which tied in to the parsha:

This week’s parsha is a double parsha that is known by the name of Nitzavim-Vayelech, And they stood-And he went. The two parshios have fascinatingly different tones of voice. The first parsha, Nitzavim, is deep and heavy and frightful. Moshe declares to the people: “You are all standing here today…”to enter the covenant before continuing on to reiterate the horrible fate that awaits Bnei Yisrael should they go astray. Vayelech, on the other hand, has a much gentler tone as Moshe speaks in the first person, inducting Yehoshua and comforting the nation that even if they fall, Hashem will uphold His covenant.

There are, it would seem, two primary approaches to the month of Elul. (1) Watch out! Elul is coming, and so it is time to tremble at the awe of the upcoming days. There are countless descriptions of the great fear and trepidation the greatest of our leaders feel at this time. But then there is (2) the Elul of Ani l’dodi v’dodi li – I am to my beloved and my beloved is mine – when we are constantly reminded that “The King is in the field” and that Hashem wants us to approach Him and to bring Him our personal requests.

So which is it? Am I supposed to be worried and fearful and scared of being judged? Or am I supposed to be joyful about the opportunity of getting closer to Hashem? Fear and Love don’t feel like emotions that one can embrace at the same time. And neither is easy; both paths are incredibly difficult. Most of us have moments of true awe, an honest feeling of tension at the idea of being judged. But we don’t really live with it. There’s too much going on. And the same can be true for living with the constant energy for seeking out Hashem in the field. I desire to seek out my relationship with Hashem all the time but reality puts me at about 4%, if I am being generous.

The double parshios of this Shabbas remind us that these two perspectives on Elul, on life really, can and do exist side by side. “Nitzavim – And they stood” is a parsha that evokes trembling. It starts with the declaration of the eternity of the covenant, describes the depth of anger against anyone turning against Torah, and concludes with the imperative to choose life. This is the awesomeness of Hashem. As we enter Elul and move into Tishrei, we are standing in a spot to perceive the greater picture, to understand that as members of Bnei Yisrael, we are part of something much bigger and far grander than our own simple lives, but that we have deep and specific responsibilities.

“Vayelech – And he went” is a softer parsha. It is a parsha of encouragement presented in the first person. It is a parsha that reminds us of Ani l’dodi v’dodi li. Because there is in it an inference of second chances and new opportunities. Giving second chances is the essence of belovedness.

I have always preferred to focus on the Ani l’dodi, the seeking out a relationship, figuring out how to crown Hashem anew in my life. I avoid the fear and trembling – not because I don’t think it is important but because I don’t know how to even get close to it, let alone achieve it. But in putting together my thoughts for this dvar Torah, I have come to see how the two are really one. A relationship requires work and attention and responsibility. The fear - the trembling -- is not fear of punishment but rather the fear of disappointing Hashem because “I am to my Beloved as my beloved is to me. “ And because I fear disappointing Hashem, I must seek Him out in the field and enhance the relationship by reminding myself that Hashem wants to do for me and all I need to do is reach out.

Good Shabbas

And Shana Tova if I don’t get time to post.

Parshas Ki Tavo – Curses to Grow By

Modern conversations about religion often focus on the question of what a person gets from having faith. Security, responsibility, a sense of belonging, etc. are all within the range of answers that those studying religion from the outside hypothesize as the source for humanity’s drive toward belief. These inquiries are often paralleled to an assumption that one’s beliefs are meant to make one happy, and happiness is very important to the 21^st century mindset.

 In reality, however, the Torah is not meant to make sure that you, the individual, are living the happiest life you can. Hashem cares that you, the individual, are living life to your utmost potential. It’s not about living your best life but living life as best you can.

 There is a fascinating section of this week’s parsha, Parshas Ki Tavo, that seems to speak to how differently the Torah’s life philosophy is to modern day philosophy. It says: “And Moshe commanded the people on that same day, saying: ‘These shall stand upon Mount Gerisim to bless the people when you have crossed the Jordan: Shimon and Levi and Yehudah and Yissachar and Yoseph and Binyamin. And these shall stand upon Mount Ebal on the curse: Reuvain and Gad and Asher and Zevulan, Dan and Naftali” (27:11-13).

 Based on these verses, it would seem the Torah was about to introduce the recitation of a list of blessings. Instead, it dives right into the Leviim announcing the curses: “Cursed be the man that makes a graven or molten image, an abomination of God…and all the people shall lift up their voices and say: Amein” (27:15).

 Why does the Torah immediately proceed with punishment, with curses? Why doesn’t it say: “Blessed is the man who remains faithful to Hashem in all ways”? Why doesn’t the Torah bless the person who respects his parents, maintains boundaries, helps the blind man not to stumble, and so forth?

 Have you ever heard the popular parenting lectures that stress praising a child for not misbehaving? It is sometimes included under positive re-enforcement. And it’s lovely…in theory. But as a parent, it’s hard to think that one should say “Good job for not smacking your brother today!” because we expect our children to know not to smack each other.

 Living a Torah life is about constraining oneself away from behaviors that are inherently anti-social – not meaning behaviors that make you hard to be around, but behaviors that are damaging to society. The false gods of celebrity and power, so potent in this day and age, have created a society in which everyone feels that they get to define the rules, that everyone’s truth is equal. The Torah announces: “Cursed be he who insults his father or his mother,” and we see, all around us, a society that played with diminishing respect for parents (Hi Bob and Sally!) and now faces a dilemma in which any voice of authority is viewed as optional. Children demand of their parents, and the parents fold…Parents blame the schools, and no one is remembering that the act of respecting is meant to come from the child.

 The Torah was given to Moshe to give to the Bnei Yisrael not as the rule book for when we live in the ideal world but rather for the time before that. Hashem instructs Moshe to instruct the Jewish people before they go into the Promised Land and to present these words of Cursed be the Man as the formula for reminding Bnei Yisrael of the expectations upon them. In listing these verbal curses, however, Hashem is presenting a potent message: You know what the right thing to do is, and in doing it the blessings come naturally. Act in such an ill-befitting manner and be cursed.

 We may not see the constant praise, the reward --- the blessing, for living the way we are supposed to, but we must always be aware that for creating a broken social norm, we shall surely be cursed.

 Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas