Parshas Vayeira: Lesson in the Long Plot

 

 Parshas Vayera is over-flowing with ideas to talk about, many of which could be shockingly personal. This is hard to understand if you read the parsha on a superficial level. Afterall, how many of us can relate to angels visiting, cities being destroyed, family members being told to leave, or being asked to sacrifice one’s child. And that’s not even all of it! For all the rather drastic moments of the parsha, however, there are dynamics that each of us relate to in our own lives. Not all moments in the Torah are relatable – I certainly have never quite understood the Bris Bein Habaturim at the end of last week’s parsha – but underlying the entire Sefer Bereishis is the reminder that life is complicated; it has many ups and downs, even for those who had direct interaction with Hashem, perhaps all the more so for them. Life is not meant to be flat and easy, although in the challenging moments we often wish it were.

 This week’s parsha once again (connected to last week’s writing) finds Avraham faced with the dilemma of needing to part from a family member. When Avraham told Lot to separate from him because he was unable to live up to the moral standards that Avraham viewed, it seems practical and justified. First of all, Lot is a grown man. Secondly, Lot is going away to a good situation (well, at least for the moment).

 When Sarah presents a similar situation to him, having a member of the household who seems unable to live up to the moral standards of the household, who is running wild and being blatantly belligerent, the situation isn’t so simple. Avraham cannot see the flaws in Yishmael as he did in Lot. He has to wait for Hashem to tell him that Sarah is seeing the world more accurately than he is.

 Of course, you say – this makes total sense since Yishmael is his son. Lot was only his nephew. Except Lot wasn’t “only” his nephew. At that point, Lot had been like a son to him and his presumed heir. More significantly, and sometimes overlooked, is that Lot was Sarah’s brother, so they were twice connected.

 It is, perhaps, interesting to follow the line of this narrative. Avraham splits with Lot. Lot moves to Sodom. Lot is kidnapped and needs to be rescued in a war. He is returned, by Avraham, to Sodom. Lot’s life is then completely overturned (pun intended) when Hashem destroys the valley of Sodom and Amorah. Lot ends up stranded in a cave with his two daughters and, well, you know the rest of that story. It is several years after this that Avraham is faced with the question of sending Yishmael away. Perhaps, beyond his difficulty seeing the true nature of Yishmael’s behavior, Avraham also suffered from a sense that had he not sent Lot away, Lot’s life would have turned out differently.

 When Avraham does accept that Sarah is right – you know, with a little help from Hashem – it is still not an easy thing for him to do. And unlike the story of Lot, Yishmael’s departure does not come quickly to an easy life. The boy nearly dies on the journey away.

 At the end of Parshas Vayera, Avraham must once more make a decision to part from a relative. There is, in a way, an escalation. He decided Lot needed to separate from him – good start, bad end. Sarah, and Hashem, informed him that he needed to send Yishmael away – bad start, decent end, but more on that in a moment. Finally, Hashem commands Avraham to bring Yitzchak and fully part from him by offering him to Hashem.

 The commandment to bring Yitzchak is huge, and Avraham doesn’t flinch. He was certainly hesitant to send Yishmael away from his tents, which is far less drastic sounding than bringing Yitzchak for a sacrifice. But just as Avraham’s hesitation at Yishmael had, perhaps, a remnant of trauma at the fate that befell Lot, his lack of hesitation at bringing Yitzchak is because he has seen what became of Yishamel. According to the Midrash, Yishmael – referred to in this part of the parsha as the Naar, the youth – returned to his father’s household, returned to his father’s ways. A good ending, an unexpected outcome.

 It may seem a silly analogy on the outside. According to Avraham’s understanding of what Hashem wished him to do, there was no long-term good outcome. This was giving up his beloved son. But between Lot and Yishmael, Avraham had learned to understand that partings are part of life and that partings give each person the opportunity to fulfill (or fail at) their tafkid. Lot could have done Teshuva and returned, but he stuck to Sodom even when he knew their wicked ways. Yishmael did teshuva and returned to the path of Avraham.

It’s almost 10:30 now, and did most of this off-the-cuff this morning, so forgive me if it doesn’t make sense. Now, I must end. The take-away:

No person can know or understand where each step in life is going to take them.

Lech Lecha: Lifted Up Eyes

 “Lift up your eyes” is not a particularly uncommon phrase in the Torah, but perhaps this week we may find a beautiful idea of how Hashem brings to us midah kneged midah.

 

This week’s parsha includes the well-known incident of the parting of ways between Avram and his nephew Lot. Avram has been the patriarch of their small family of travellers, and Avram was the reason that they acquired the wealth and fame that they did. Lot went along for all of it and revelled in the family’s success. Avram’s flocks grew, and Lot’s flock grew. As Lot’s wealth increased, however, he forgot that what he had was not from his own merit, butthat he had benefitted from his relationship with Avram. It seems, based on what we know of Lot’s behavior, that he grew arrogant.

 

According to the Midrash, Lot allowed his shepherds to let his sheep go unmuzzled, to graze where they would. He acted as if he owned the land because he took it upon himself that he would be Avram’s heir.

 

Lot’s behavior was worthy of rebuke, but instead, Avram showed him respect and kindness. Rather than come to him and tell him that he was doing something wrong, which, by that point, Lot would not have heard (since he had already rationalized his actions), Avram spoke to him with utmost respect. He looked at the younger man and told him to choose his path. Avram’s telling him to choose to the left and he would go right or to the right and he would go left has the subtle implication that Avram understood that he could not influence Lot any further into choosing to follow a righteous path. Lot would have to choose that for himself.

 

Then Lot lifted up his eye, as it says in Bereishis 13:10, and “chose for himself” as it says in 13:11. He chose “kol kikar hayarden.” He didn’t choose a settlement; he chose all of the plain of the valley of the Yarden. When Lot lifts up his eyes, he does not have humility; rather, he has his true nature – avarice.

 

Avram had no requirement to give Lot free reign on where he would settle, but he wanted to treat Lot with dignity and respect. Perhaps, one could wonder, he hoped rather that Lot would wish to stay with him and would offer to amend his ways.

 

Four pasukim later, after Lot has departed for Sodom, Hashem calls to Avram and instructs him to follow in the course of action of his nephew. Hashem tells Avram to lift up his eyes and see the land. The situation, as we see, is very different. Hashem is here, in 13:14, telling Avram that everything that he sees – tzaphona v’negva v’kadma v’yama – north, south, east, and west, would be his. Hashem’s use of the phrase that just described Lot’s action, however, could be understood as an allusion to the way Avram interacted with Lot.

 

Hashem had many reasons for singling out Avram. One of them, perhaps, was the fact that Avram was able to treat Lot with such dignity. Lot disappointed Avram (who had thought, at one point, that Lot might be his heir) in not being able to live to Avram’s standards. When Avram saw that it was no longer appropriate for Lot to dwell within his camp, however, he did not hesitate to let him choose the place he would settle, to let him take from what Avram could have seen as land that was promised to him. In return for his incredible bein adam l’chavero, Hashem gently and lovingly reminded Avram that, no matter what, all of this land was the Promised Land.

 

We often have times when we know that someone behaves in a way we disagree with, when we feel we need give them tochacha. We are reminded here that how we treat that person is just as important, if not more important, than the guidance we wish to give them. Hashem did not draw Avram aside and remind him of His promise as a reward for sending Lot away since he could not live righteously, but the language of the Torah here signals the importance of Avram’s constantly keeping in mind the dignity of another. It is a lesson that never goes to waste!

Parshas Noah: Unique and Distinct

 Parshas Noah: Unique and Distinct

 We humans share the earth with a plethora of other life, and one of the most complicated questions modern society has had to resolve is how we view our role in the grand spectrum of earthly life. In Parshas Noah, Noah and his family are given the job of preserving the animals, of taking two – or seven – of each species and making certain that they survive the great flood. This, of course, fulfilled Hashem’s original dictate: “Hashem blessed them and Hashem said to them, ‘Be fertile and increase, fill the earth and master it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and all the living things that creep on earth.’” (Bereishis 1:28).

 While this pasuk is often translated as “rule over,” the wording of dominion allows for a broader understanding, one in which we humans are caretakers. This means that we have a constant and grave responsibility to think about how we treat the environment, about how interact with all types of life forms.

 One could say that Noah fulfilled this role in a way no other ever accomplished. He literally had the responsibility of saving the lives of every non-marine animal on the planet, so he certainly was their caretaker Except, Noah didn’t think of it on his own; he did it as a direct command from Hashem.

 Of course, if one is a true animal lover, one might worry about all the rest of the animals – the ones that perished in the flood. But there are commentaries that talk about the way the animals became corrupted by the behavior of humankind, and this, it is said, is why they were destroyed – in the same way as humankind, with only a choice set preserved for the next stage of the earth.

 The next stage of the earth…after the flood, when Noah and his wife and their sons and daughters-in-law emerged from the ark, was not only a moment of the earth’s rebirth, but a time when the dynamic of human and animal life shifted.

 Bereishis 9 says: “Hashem blessed Noah and his sons, and said to them, ‘Be fertile and increase, and fill the earth.’” – Note the same language – “The fear and the dread of you shall be upon all the animals of the earth and upon all the birds of the sky—everything with which the earth is astir—and upon all the fish of the sea; they are given into your hand” (9:1-2). The question that seems immediately apparent is why does Hashem now introduce a dynamic in which the animals shall have fear and dread of humans?

 The easy answer is that in the next verse, 9:3, the right to eat flesh is introduced. Let’s pause, however, and remember that the order of the verses has its own significance. Hashem shifted the dynamic between animal and man and then gave man the right to eat meat. We can assume that one thing is tied to the other, but the truth is that Hashem could have given humans the right to eat meat and still left animals with a passive response to mankind. Why then did Hashem separate humanity in such a way from the rest of the living creatures on earth?

 Perhaps the world fell into violence as it did because humanity at the time was unable to distinguish themselves from the animals, because they saw their role as rulers or caretakes as one that left them confused by the distinctions. While Adam was created at the same time as the animals, Adam’s creation was completely different. Adam, the first human – and all humans after – were a synthesis of heaven and earth, of the spiritual and the physical. Perhaps the generations before the flood were unable to understand the expectations of that synthesis. Perhaps they were too in touch with their animal side. And then, after all that time in the ark, living together with the animals, Hashem made it clear throughout the world that there is, indeed, a difference.  Just because we are meant to take care of the wildlife of the planet does not mean we are to be the wildlife of the planet.

 It’s wonderful if you love animals – or if you have an animal that you specifically have a connection to. But, you are human. You are unique and distinct amongst all that Hashem Created.

 Wishing you all a beatufiful Shabbas.

 

 

 

 

Parshas Beirishis: A Lesson from Kayin

It is often discussed how Sefer Bereishis is a historical map for the Jewish people, how everything that occurred to our ancestors repeats through history. That leaves a question. What lessons do we learn from Parshas Bereishis? If you’re laughing because the answer appears to be beyond counting, that is certainly legitimate. We learn about the creation of the world, about mankind’s need to pray, about our responsibility to take care of the world, and etc.

 

One thing we most certainly learn from the very beginning of the Torah, from the very beginning of humanity, is that people make mistakes – some small and some tremendous. But that is a lesson for all of humanity; what is the lesson for Klal Yisrael?

 

One might, interestingly enough, look to Kayin for a lesson that can offer great chizuk to Bnei Yisrael. Cain, as he is called in English, has an infamous reputation. He murdered his brother in the heat of jealousy – which of course is a wonderful narrative to pull apart for its intricacies of human nature. Let us, however, look at the consequence of his actions.

 

Hashem says to Kayin: “And now, you are cursed even more than the ground, which opened its mouth to take your brother's blood from your hand. When you till the soil, it will not continue to give its strength to you; you shall be a wanderer and an exile in the land” (Bereishis 4:11-12).

 

This curse is a terrible thing, and all the more so when you remember that while Hevel had been a shepherd, Kayin had been a farmer. He lost everything, including his identity. Nevertheless, it is hard to be sympathetic to a murderer, even if we empathize with some of the emotions that drove him to act; his conscious decision to strike his brother down refutes that sympathy.

 

It is Kayin’s reaction to his punishment, however,  that holds the important lesson for Bnei Yisrael.

 

“And Kayin said to the Lord, ‘My iniquity is too great to bear? Behold You have driven me today off the face of the earth, and I shall be hidden from before You, and I will be a wanderer and an exile in the land, and it will be that whoever finds me will kill me’” (13-14).

Kayin is concerned about the how he will survive in the world, but first and foremost he is concerned about his relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. He recognizes in Hashem’s punishment something that Hashem had not explicitly stated. Hashem never said that Kayin was banished from Hashem’s presence, but Kayin understood that Hashem had designed the earth to nourish mankind. He remembered that the world had not grown anything until his father, Adam, had prayed for rain, and that rain set the growth in motion. Kayin knew that the need to labor was the consequence of Adam and Chava’s eating of the fruit – but also that Adam’s labor brought him and all his descendants an appreciation for the blessings Hashem gave. Now he would be separated from those blessings, a step removed.

 

Hashem’s response is to declare “‘Therefore, whoever kills Kayin, vengeance will be wrought upon him sevenfold," and the Lord placed a mark on Kayin that no one who find him slay him” (4:14).

 

What is the lesson here? Of course, we know that it is never too late to call out to Hashem; it’s never too late to do teshuva. But on a larger scale, we, Bnei Yisrael, are in a similar position. We have sinned – sinned to such an extent that we have been exiled. We know that Hashem has hidden His face from us and that the nations turn an unkind eye towards us, revile us, and seek to do us ill knowing, on a metaphysical level, that Hashem has turned his face away.

 

However, when we call out as Kayin did – putting the perspective first and foremost on our relationship with Hashem rather than on our worldly situation, Hashem provides the protection we need.

 

I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Yom Kippur: The Goat at the End

I want to start off by saying how impressed I was with so many of the divrei Torahs this year. Due to time constraints, I put them into word docs each week and printed them off to read on Shabbas, so I apologize for not having the wherewithal after to go back and send regards/thoughts/compliments.

It’s hard to think of what to write for Yom Kippur. There is so much to say and yet so much has already been said. Also, many of us don’t have time to sit down and read a long Dvar Torah right now. Erev Yom Kippur, at least in my household, has always ended up being a bizarrely busy day. (So what are you all cooking for the seuda, anyway?!?) And here I go, already making excuses for why my preparation was, perhaps, a little shoddy…here I go using my household as my scapegoat.

Ok, that’s, perhaps, a flexible definition of the idea of a scapegoat, but what better time than Yom Kippur to discuss this puzzling and mysterious ritual. To the 21^st century ear, it sounds highly...archaic, especially when one looks at the mepharshim that explain Azazel as a demon…

The fact of the matter is that the entire ritual is one that commentators in almost every generation have had to strive to understand. Not only is there debate over what the term Azazel means, but the actual fate of the goat is argued. Some sources describe the goat being thrown from a cliff in such a way that it was torn apart by the time it was halfway down the mountain (described by Rabbi Eliyahu Munk* as having a stone tied to its horn so that it was walloped after it was shoved off the cliff). On the other hand, there are sources that describe the goat being released into a bleak wilderness where it would slowly die from lack of food and water.  Whether you are disturbed by the idea of sending a sacrifice to a demon (or a representative of the satan) or by the seemingly blatant tzar baalei chaim, the fact of the matter remains that the ceremony of the two goats is an integral aspect of Yom Kippur.

 To briefly address the idea of Azazel as a who rather than a place, the following idea is from ravkooktorah.org: The abstract knowledge that evil also has a purpose in the world must be acknowledged in some fashion in our service of God. This acknowledgment occurs in the elevated service of Yom Kippur. In practical ethics, however, there is no place for this knowledge. Heaven forbid that evil should be considered good, or that the wicked should be considered righteous. Therefore, the goat for Azazel was sent to a desolate, barren place — a place uninhabited by people. Human society must be based on a just way of life, led by aspirations of holiness and purity. (Gold from the Land of Israel, pp. 200-201. Adapted from Olat Re’iyah vol. II p. 357; Shemonah Kevatzim IV:91, V:193)

 Our aspirations are toward holiness and purity, so it is important for us to wrap our 21^st century brains around this significant ritual. What were we doing with these goats?

 Let’s review the basics. Two goats, as alike in appearance as possible, were brought before the Kohen Gadol. Lots were drawn to determine which fate belonged to which goat. One goat was taken and offered as a korban. The other goat was then burdened, so to speak, with the sins of klal Yisrael and sent off to Azazel. Here’s another strange bit. What does it mean that the sins of Klal Yisrael were placed on the goat?

 Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks notes that Sin and guilt offerings are familiar features of the Torah and a normal part of the service of the Temple. The service of Yom Kippur was different in one salient respect: in every other case, the sin was confessed over the animal that was sacrificed. On Yom Kippur, the High Priest confessed the sins of the people over the animal that was not sacrificed, the scapegoat that was sent away, “carrying on it all their iniquities” (Lev. 16:21-22).

 Here is another question… this part of the avodah of Yom Kippur occurred around midday, when already the people were already afflicting themselves as commanded by the Torah to bring kapara, so wasn’t the personal acts of devotion enough?

 There are, perhaps, two ways of looking at these questions. Rabbi Sacks presents an interesting idea: Yom Kippur deals not only with our sins as individuals. It also confronts our sins as a community bound by mutual responsibility. It deals, in other words, with the social as well as the personal dimension of wrongdoing. Yom Kippur is about shame as well as guilt. Hence there has to be purification (the removal of the stain) as well as atonement…Shame cannot be removed by forgiveness. The victim of our crime may have forgiven us, but we still feel defiled by the knowledge that our name has been disgraced, our reputation harmed, our standing damaged. We still feel the stigma, the dishonour, the degradation. That is why an immensely powerful and dramatic ceremony had to take place during which people could feel and symbolically see their sins carried away to the desert…”

 But perhaps there are also the personal sins involved. Let’s be honest, as Yom Kippur approaches we all try our hardest to do honest teshuva but are aware that it is probable that the aveiros we need to ask mechila for are ones that we don’t actually remember. To that end, we casually walk around and approach people we know and ask for blanket mechila – you know, for anything I might have done to hurt you. Here we are on Yom Kippur seeking out mechila and kapara and we aren’t even sure for what. Perhaps, and this is my own humble thought and not sourced, perhaps these were the types of sins “collected” by the Kohen Gadol and placed upon the goat.

 This little goat has a lot to bear but let us look at one more facet of the scapegoat. In his essay “On the Phenomenon of the Scapegoat for Azazel” in The Just Still Live by His Faith, Rabbi Eliyahu Munk notes that “All those Israelites who repent their sins out of love of G-d do not need the scapegoat to carry their sins at all.” This was a fascinating point to read as it echoed the ideas spoken of by Rabbi Aryeh Kerzener (Agudah Yisrael of Montreal) in his Shabbas Shuva Shiur. The gemara in Yuma 86 states that repentance from love of Hashem converts sins into merit – this is a high madrega! What other repentance is there? Repentance from fear. These sins, according to Rabbi Munk “are only being squashed…therefore the impurity created by such sins returns to its origin, but does not vanish from the universe.”

 The sins we atone for out of fear go from deliberate to b’shogag, by accident, and thus can be placed on the goat because their burden of guilt has been lessoned. There is, however, still guilt, still a sense of something that Hashem will want to punish us for, and thus creating only more Yiras Hashem. Yiras Hashem is good. It’s important. But Hashem wants our true Ahava. Hashem does not want us to repent because we want to be forgiven so we will not be punished. Hashem wants us to come to the point where our teshuva is truly for the purpose of coming closer to Him, because we love Him so much that we do not want to have anything that distances us from Him. Hashem is taking them away from us, ritually, with great finality so that, perhaps – ideally, we can see the path forward to pure Ahavas Hasham.

 I would love to go further into the thoughts shared by Rabbi Kerzner on the significant interchange of mitzvos and aveiros (he discussed how sometimes we don’t even realize that our mitzvos can also be aveiros), but this is now running long and we all have much to accomplish today.

 To conclude, let me ask all who know me for mechila for anything I might have done 😊.

In all seriousness, however, let us hope that we are soon in the time when we have true clarity on this ritual, but when the ritual is no longer needed or our understanding of Hashem is so clear and present that all of our actions are based on our ahavas Hashem. Until that time, let us look upon all of the mysteries of Yom Kippur, and Jewish life in general, with a recognition that there is always far more depth in Hashem’s perception then in ours.

 

Gmar Chasima Tova to all of you.

 

Parshas Haazinu- Reflections on the Moment In-Between

This Shabbas is Parshas Haazinu. It is also Shabbas Shuva. It is the closest Shabbas can be to Yom Kippur, which could cause some people a bit of stress but shouldn’t. After all, how wonderful is it that between the Day of Rest when we, ideally (cough cough), focus on our spirituality and the Day of Atonement -  we are not challenged by mundane days of work, when we might be distracted from what is most important right now.

This Shabbas Shuva, we read the parsha of Haazinu, which is a very unique parsha in that it is understood to be one long song. That song is both of the past, relaying the dynamic history of Bnei Yisrael, and for the future, full of prediction and foretelling. That duality of past and future is particularly significant for the days of teshuva. When we don’t own our past, we lose hold of our unique identity, we lose hold of the treasures that we have – our Torah, our land, our nationhood. We must never forget our past – because when we even start to ignore our past, our future starts to slip away.

The fact that we read this parsha here in the midst of the days of Awe (although sometimes just after) is significant because of what stands between the dual nature of the song of Haazinu. Between the past and the future, there is the present, the here and now…the today.

One doesn’t necessarily think about Yom Kippur as being about “today.” After all, it’s the day on which we stand before Hashem and ask Him to grant us atonement for that which we have done in the past. And, although we should be doing so just so we have done right in the ways of Hashem, most of us are hoping that our atonement will “pad” our future year to come, that we will be granted bracha and hatzlacha. However, the most important element of Yom Kippur is the Yom, the day, the specific annual time when we have the necessary spiritual alignment. 

So what does that have to do with Haazinu. The word is most often translated as “Listen.” This, however, isn't the usual listen, which generally comes from Shema (to hear). Haazinu is better translated with the archaic sounding “Give Ear.” It has a far greater immediacy to it than lishmoa, to listen. Lishmoa is an internal process, a slower process, a sinking in. Haazinu is a moment to be seized, to be acted upon, to burst forth… like song. At the same time, it is almost deliberate - “Give ear” implies turning one’s focus and paying particular attention. 

Over the next three days we must “Give Ear” to where we are. We must focus in on our actions here, on our teshuva now - and in so doing, we tie together the past and the future. This is the essence of the singularity of the day of Yom Kippur. Yesterday you were, perhaps, besmirched by your actions. Tomorrow you may be bowled over by forces beyond your control. On Yom Kippur, you will be between past and future, and this is something we can remind ourselves through the unique attribute of Haazinu, a song of the past predicting the future. 

May it be Hashem’s will that the very near future redeems us and brings about complete revelation. May your tefilos on Yom Kippur bring you a kapara you can truly feel, and may this Shabbas be a Shabbas of blessing for all of the Shabbasim to come. 

Parshas Nitzavim-Vayelech: Here

Why are we here? This is not the philosophical, existential question…This is the question of galus. Jews have been asking themselves this question in one form or another throughout this exceedingly long galus. Sometimes we ask this question with the intonation of why have we been made to live in a place of suffering and oppression. Sometimes it’s the question of why we haven’t taken the necessary steps of returning to our promised home. Whichever the question, the answer is never simple, and that fact reflects the fact that being part of the Jewish people has never been simple.  

This question, however, is as essential to Jewish identity as our understanding of what it means to be part of Bnei Yisrael. It is alluded to the renaming of Yaakov to Yisrael and the interpretation of that name as “He who wrestles with Gd.” Our destiny was never a straight line.

In this week’s parsha, Parshas Nitzavim-Vayelech, there is the famous declaration of “Lo b’shamayim hee,” the statement that the Torah is not in Heaven, and Bnei Yisrael, who have yet again here accepted the yoke of Torah, cannot make an excuse that the Torah is inaccessible to them. Our forefathers earned the privilege of Torah, earned the essence of the mamleches kohanim (kingdom of priests) that we are to become, and, by this very fact, they, and we, are the keepers of Torah. It is up to us to make Torah alive in this world. Torah is ours to possess here and now.

What is interesting is that the next pasukim, Devarim 30:13-14, continue: “Nor is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us and fetch it for us, to tell [it] to us, so that we can fulfill it?’ Rather, [this] thing is very close to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can fulfill it.”

For a nation in the desert about to enter the Promised Land, this statement must have seemed odd. What sea were they being warned of looking across? Perhaps if it had been said “Nor is it across the Midbar, the desert” there would be a clear allusion to Har Sinai. After all, they did just travel for years from that place; they know how grueling that journey can be. If one thinks of it as a reference to the Sea of Reeds, then this also does not really make sense. Bnei Yisrael was forced to cross the Yam Suf because they were trapped by the Mitzrim. One does not need to cross the Yam Suf to get from Israel to Egypt.

“Across the Sea”, which some commentators understand as an allusion to the Atlantic Ocean while others think it is the Mediterranean, could, in its own way, be understood as an important vastness to the greatness of the exile to come.

There are, of course, multiple places in the Torah where Hashem warns the people that they will not hold on to the land, just as they will not hold on to their dedication to Hashem’s ways. It must have been difficult for the people on the precipice of entering Eretz Yisrael to understand - after all, with the Shechina dwelling in the Promised Land among the people, why would they even consider the question of worrying about the law being that far away?

Predictions - which is, of course, the wrong word for the utterances of Hashem – can be comforting. Knowing that the behavior is not unexpected is not an excuse, but it can be a comfort. We all watch others make strong resolutions about what they will or won’t do and then predictably miss their targets. The same is true for Bnei Yisrael.

Our history is recorded in our past as that which will inevitably come to be. Indeed, Hashem even tells Moshe, in this week’s parsha, “For I know what plans they are devising even now, before I bring them into the land that I promised on oath” (Devarim 31:21). Bnei Yisrael’s path to the promised land has never been easy – not in the days of the avos or Moshe and not in the days of the shoftim and naviim, when we struggled against Canaanites and Pilishtim and more, and not in the modern era.

Why are we here? Some people will turn this question into an accusation – why are you there? – for those who still dwell in chutz l’aretz. The answer, however, is throughout the parsha. We have not yet stopped chasing after other deities – not, perhaps, you or you or you – but we as a people have not yet learned to settle ourselves, our whole selves, into our role and our mission. Therefore, we are all in galus, and we are all striving for the great teshuva that will return the Shechina to its dwelling place and our nation to its rightful glory.

NMay it come speedily in our days!

 

 

Parshas Ki Tavo: A Stated Relationship

 Elul… It’s a complicated time of year. Here in the 21^st century, most of us are very busy getting ready or jumping into the start of the school year – whether with our families or as teachers. Cities and communities around the northern hemisphere have a different pace, and in the great duality in which we live, it is not difficult to lose sight of Elul.

 “Ani l’dodi, v dodi li” – I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me. These powerful words of Shlomo Hamelech, one noted anagram of Elul, seem like a sweet, perhaps gentle, reminder of the relationship we are meant to have with Hashem. But, the truth is that the idea of a relationship with Hashem, of being Hashem’s beloved and making certain that Hashem is your beloved, is, dare I say it, challenging. Do God and I even speak the same language? I am needy, and Hashem is…everything! I make requests, and Hashem sends me what is best – even if I can’t understand it. Yet, having a relationship with Hashem is FUNDAMENTAL to being Jewish.

 Interestingly, this idea is reflected in this week’s parsha, Parshas Ki Tavo. The third aliyah of the parsha is just 4 pasukim long:

“(16)This day, the Lord, your God, is commanding you to fulfill these statutes and ordinances, and you will observe and fulfill them with all your heart and with all your soul. (17) You have selected the Lord this day, to be your God, and to walk in His ways, and to observe His statutes, His commandments and His ordinances, and to obey Him. (18) And the Lord has selected you this day to be His treasured people, as He spoke to you, and so that you shall observe all His commandments, (19) and to make you supreme, above all the nations that He made, [so that you will have] praise, a [distinguished] name and glory; and so that you will be a holy people to the Lord, your God, as He spoke.” (Devarim 26:16-19).

 The middle two verses note that “You” have selected Hashem and Hashem has selected “You.” There is a mutual choice, a two-sided desire to look toward the other – put in layman’s terms. That is the essence of a relationship – two sides seeking each other out. In this case, however, that interwoven relationship carries over into pasuk 19, when Hashem elevates the nation so that they can be holy. This shift, this elevation, is necessary in order for them to fulfil their role in the world.

 But let us look more closely at the wording in these verses. In this translation, which is from the Chabad website, verses 17 and 18 use the term “selected,” but the Hebrew is actually far more interesting: Heh’emarta and Heh’emritech. This is not the typical root for the word “Chose” (a synonym of selected), which is bachar. Rather, it is a derivative of the word “Speak” – Amar. It is, according to Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsh, a unique usage of the word in the Hiphil form, and it “can mean nothing else than to cause somebody else to say something.”

 When translated thus, Rav Hirsh understood the pasukim to say: “You have brought it about, you have caused it to be said that He must be your God; and God has caused it to be said that you must be an עם סגולה to Him That is to say Israel’s solemn promise to God and God’s pledged Word to Israel has not remained, so to say, a private matter, it has become internationally known, a fact engraved in the mind of the world. Henceforth one designates God as ‘the God of the Jews’, and Israel as ‘the People of God’” (Translation from Sefaria).

 This section of Ki Tavo was isolated into its own aliyah, perhaps, because within itself there is such an important message. We must, of course, be constantly aware of our individual relationship with Hashem, but we must also be aware that our collective relationship with Hashem – as a united nation since the verses do have a singular grammatic structure – is not just between us and our God. It’s public. It has influence. It is beyond our selves.

 When we celebrate our relationship with Hashem in Elul, we are moving forward toward the ultimate goal of crowning Hashem King on Rosh Hashana. We are coming to the place where we announce, where we loudly proclaim, Hashem is king, and in so doing we cause ourselves to be proclaimed, again, as His people.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas and a meaningful Elul.

Parshas Shoftim: Don’t Jump to Conclusions

 Parshas Shoftim: Don’t Jump to Conclusions

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Yehudis bas Leah, Yona Yaakova bas Mina, Chana Zelda bat Gittel Yita, Mindel Batsheva bat Nechama Zelda, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, and Yaakov ben Esther Malka.

 Information – it is the currency of the age of the internet, and it’s something we all need to be incredibly careful with. It would be fair to say that now, more than ever, we can see how easily disinformation spreads into misinformation. For those unclear in the distinction, disinformation is deliberate, while misinformation unintentionally spreads falsehood or distortions. The corruption of information is happening currently on several global levels, but it is also constantly happening within our everyday societies. But it isn’t a new phenomena.

In this week’s parsha, Moshe warns the people against those who go to worship the deities of the people in the land, who would follow false gods or worship celestial bodies. These people, we learn in Devarim 17:5,are to be stoned to death. Stoning is particularly horrible death.

Of the many sins that are out there, serving avodah zara is in a category of its own. It is a betrayal of Hashem and everything the Jewish community is meant to stand for, and it damages the fabric of the community. However, it is also an act that often lacks concrete proof. Yes, the Torah here talks about offering an animal, but in Devarim yud-bet (12) the Torah records that the people may cook meat away from the Mishkan. How do I keep my Sunday barbeque from being mistaken as an offering? – ha ha. While that may be said with a humorous tone, we know from history, and from current times, how easily facts can be twisted and how readily one might come to do so against an “enemy.” Of this, Jewish law is very aware, and so Devarim 17:4 –  “and this is reported to you, and you hear it, and you investigate it thoroughly; and it is found to be true because the evidence agrees, establishing that this abomination has been committed in Israel;”

We don’t just take a report at face value. We don’t take the first word of someone coming and accusing. We hear it; we listen to the details to understand if there is weight to the words. One could, perhaps, add, that the hearing includes weighing the tone in which the accusation is made, understanding the nuances of neighbors. We receive the report and hear it, and we “investigate it thoroughly.”

The Torah is, as we mentioned, talking about avodah zarah, but the fact is that Devarim 17:4 is a pasuk that can stand alone and tells us how to live in this world. When you hear something about a neighbor, when you suspect something about a situation, or when you are told details about …well, in truth, about just about anything… it is your responsibility to investigate it fully. Don’t believe reports of evil, for reports can be distorted – even witnesses can be distorted, as we understand from Moshe’s exhortation here that there must be at least 2 witnesses for guilt to be established. This ensures some level of veracity and objectivity and that the report does not come from some sort of vendetta or ill will.

We have just entered the month of Elul, and there is less than a month until the great day of annual judgement comes. Now we must turn these ideas upon ourselves. As we approach the Yomim Noaraim, we begin to reflect upon our actions in the year that has passed – and often the things we declare and despair of are things we made great in our own mind. Now, at this auspicious time of the year, we report on ourselves to ourselves, and then we must take the opportunity to hear, to really listen, to our tainas (minor grudges) and transgressions. Now, here in the month of Elul, we must examine ourselves thoroughly, for good or for ill.

True cheshbon hanefesh, a self-accounting, requires this level of inquiry. The process of teshuva is not meant to be one of self-flagellation, of punishing oneself and making one feel like a terrible human being. The process of cheshbon hanefesh is meant to make us see the ways in which we need to improve. Teshuva, repentance, is incomplete unless it includes some level of change, even a small one, that will be a barrier to repeating the same aveira. One cannot complete this process if one is busy raking themselves over the coals, so to speak.

May this little Torah give you a zest for the needed work of Elul, and may you remember that just as one witness is not enough, you are not witness enough to condemn yourself. May we all merit to be successful in our teshuva, one step at a time. 

Good Shabbas

 

Parshas Eikev: Don’t Keep It One Sided

This week’s parsha, Parshas Eikev, like much of Devarim, presents Moshe telling Bnei Yisrael about the connection of their actions and their settlement in the Promised Land. Indeed, it opens: “If you will heed these ordinances and safeguard and perform them, Hashem, your God, will keep the covenant for you, as well as the kindness that He swore to your forefathers. He will love you, bless you, and multiply you. He will bless the fruit of your womb; 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 that He swore to your forefathers to give you” (Devarim 7:12-13).

Among the numerous places in the parsha where Moshe emphasizes this dynamic, there is an interesting word - chashak. In Devarim 10:15, Moshe says: “Only(yet) to your forefathers chashak Hashem, to love for them, and He chose their descendants after them; and he chose their seed – you(pl) – from all of the people, like this day.”  If you notice that the translation of chashak was skipped that is because it appears to be a word that does not truly translate. One source has it as “Hashem was drawn out,” while another source says that Hashem “desired.” A third source translates chashak as “had a delight.” The Rav Hirsh translation (1966) is “find pleasure,” although that is the translation of the German translation.

None of these translations truly change the tone of the pasuk, and yet it makes one wonder what might be significant about this word. To explore that question, one must see in what other contexts the word is used.

Moshe used chashak in a similar context in Devarim 7:7, when he told Bnei Yisrael: “It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that Hashem grew attached to you and chose you—indeed, you are the smallest of peoples.” Then, as in this week’s pasuk, he goes on to tell them that Hashem was drawn to them, “because He would keep the oath which He swore unto your fathers” (7:8). … There is an implication of Hashem loving Bnei Yisrael in a way that is not completely of His own volition. (Don’t stress, that is meant in a completely anthropomorphic way!) There is a sense that Hashem has resigned Himself to His love for us for the sake of our forefathers.

 

In fact, that sub-text is oddly supported by other places where this word is used:

Devarim 21:11 – “and you see among the captives a beautiful woman and - v’chashaktah - you desire her, you may take [her] for yourself as a wife.”

Bereishis 34:8 – “And Hamor spoke with them, saying, ‘My son Shechem his soul – chashaka - has a liking for your daughter. Please give her to him for a wife.’”

 

Strange, is it not? But let us think about it a little deeper. In both the story of Dina and the case of the aishes yafat to’ar, there is an implication that the love, the desire, is one directional. That it is almost out of their control. That’s important. That’s what Moshe needs Bnei Yisrael to understand - not the lack of control but the one-directionality of it.

When Moshe tells Bnei Yisrael in both places in Devarim that Hashem loves them, us, because of our forefathers, he is not just telling us that we have not earned Hashem’s love. That message comes out pretty loud and clear. He is telling us that the love of Hashem for us, and even for our forefathers, is something as yet unreciprocated.

In us, as in our forefathers, Hashem does see something special, something unique. When Avraham Avinu recognized Hashem’s oneness, he ignited the existing spark of Divinity that rests in all who are Btzelem Elokim, and Bnei Yisrael will forever radiate that light ignited by Avraham… That light, that power to see the Divine in the world and bring it out, is our beauty. Our charm is our ability to have a relationship with Hashem – but it is nothing more than charm and beauty if we do not do the work. A relationship cannot be formed if it is one sided.

The Torah is the path to meeting Hashem’s desire for us. It isn’t enough to just say “I love Hashem.” That is a superficial declaration. Rather, Hashem provided us with the mitzvos so we could come close to Him, so we could see and reflect His beauty.

Having looked at the word chashak from Devarim 10:15, we have, perhaps, another layer of understanding of the next pasuk: “You must therefore circumcise the foreskin of your heart and cease being stiff-necked” (10:16). Let go of the idea that you have somehow already merited Hashem’s love. You haven’t, but you can. And that is the message we can take from Devarim 10:15 - know that what Hashem wants most of all is for us to reciprocate His chashak.

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

 

 

 

Parsha Va’Eschanan: It’s What You Don’t See

Parsha Va’Eschanan: It’s What You Don’t See

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Yehudis bas Leah, Yona Yaakova bas Mina, Chana Zelda bat Gittel Yita, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, and Yaakov ben Esther Malka.

Parshas Va’Eschanan is always read on Shabbas Nachamu, the Shabbas after Tisha B’Av. It is the parsha that extols the connection of Hashem and Bnei Yisrael, which should reflect the deeper experience of Tisha B’Av. This is the time when we see Hashem in our pain, when we recognize that our tragedies are a reflection of our distance from Him, and that it is up to us to work on bringing ourselves closer so that Hashem can remove the cloud of hester panim, of His hiding Himself away.

If we are honest with ourselves, we understand that the distance we experience today – the distance from Hashem and the distance from our own inner spirituality – is our own fault. Humanity has such a great desire to assert its independence and to challenge the status quote that we often break away from our spiritual core in our attempt to grasp it. We want proof of God and proof of our neshama because that is, many wrongfully believe, the only way we can understand the Divine. Somewhere deep within us, we have this notion that if we could just “see” the Divine then all of our problems would be solved, but, really, the solution lies in NOT seeing Hashem.

Parshas Vaeschanan contains one of the core prayers of Jewish life: Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad. HEAR o’ Israel Hashem is our God, Hashem is One. Not See – Hear. The act of seeing is rooted in the physical. If I can see it, I don’t have to have faith since I have evidence. I don’t have to do any internal work to accept and understand.  Hearing, on the other hand, is an internal process. Sound enters our ears, so to speak, and reverberates throughout our being. They say that the eyes are windows to the soul, but you don’t enter through a window. The entry doors, then, are the ears – for they are responsible for hearing, for listening.

Moshe understood the human desire for something physical. Afterall, he remembered the first generation’s reaction to his delayed return from Har Sinai, how they demanded that Aaron create the Golden Calf because they feared that they had lost Moshe, their physically visible connection to Hashem. And so Moshe says to the people gathered at the border of the Promised Land: “For your souls’ sakes, therefore, be most careful—since you saw no shape when Hashem spoke to you at Horeb out of the fire—” (Devarim 4:15) and reminds them of all the prohibitions of creating forms of avodah zarah. This is Moshe warning the people that they will never be able to make Hashem concrete because, as they experienced, He is so much vaster than the visible world.

Rabbeinu Bahya explains this pasuk as a statement of truth: “Seeing that you know clearly that you did not see any phenomenon, image, at the time when Hashem revealed Himself, you must take care in the future never to make such a likeness…”  (Translation from Sefaria). You must take care in the future not to believe that there can ever be such a likeness. A physical likeness of Hashem would be limiting, and Hashem is limitless.

There is an interesting thing about the idea of hester panim, about the hidden face of Hashem. Panim is a plural word, always. Why? There are many responses to this question, but one such answer might be that a face is a reflection. People see in one another’s face mirrors of themselves. When we smile at someone, they most often smile back. When we like someone, they become beautiful. Our neshamos are reflections of Hashem. When Hashem hid His face from us, it also meant we lost something of ourselves, and that something, perhaps, is an understanding of our strength as spiritual creations.

Noting how Devarim 4:15 refers to guarding nefshoseichem, your souls, Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsh draws attention back to the interconnectedness of the soul to the Divine. The emuna that we inherited from Avraham Avinu is not something one can assess in one’s physical DNA. There’s no chromosome. It’s a “mutation” so to speak, in one’s spiritual DNA. It’s a link through that which cannot be seen or touched. This, according to Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsh, can be learned from this pasuk:

“…Besides God, there is only one other being of whose individual reality and personal existence, although invisible and unable to be realised by any of our physical senses, each one of us bears within himself the direct certainty of conviction, and that is our soul, our נפש. It is that, therefore, which reflecting back on oneself makes one comprehend the real existence of something which is invisible and intangible, and by the certainty of the conviction of one’s own self comprehend the conviction of the existence of God. As sure as we are of the existence of our own self so are we of the existence of God.” (translation from Sefaria)

The self of spirituality exists on a plane that we cannot see and we cannot touch. The questioning of God leaves us with the question of how we each are who we are because “nature vs nurture” and gene predictions still can’t explain the whole. But if you are very quiet and you listen, you can start to understand that the very nature of humankind, the very nature of the world itself, is all one and that one is Hashem. This is the truth that we will see – yes, see – in the time of Beis Hamikdash, bmheira biyameinu.

I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.

 

Parshas Devarim: Fire and Cloud

 Sefer Devarim begins with Moshe’s recounting of the journey of Bnei Yisrael after they received the Torah. It is interesting, however, that in the first perek of his recounting Moshe deliberates on two points: the creation of the system of judges and the reaction of the people during the reports of the scouts. The question, of course, is why these two items are so specifically detailed, and the answer might very well be because they demonstrate the contentious nature of Bnei Yisrael.

 Sefer Devarim is understood to be both a review of the people’s history and a prophecy of all that will come to Israel. Integral to that future would be both our structured community order and, unfortunately, our penchant for questioning Hashem and getting ourselves in trouble. This latter trait, alas, has seen us, time and again, in the cross-hairs of Hashem’s ire, at a point where Hashem finds it necessary to bring forth all of the dire warnings we have been given in order to remind us of the role we accepted at Sinai.

 When you look at Devarim as prophecy, the following pasukim stand out as having an interesting opportunity for interpretation:

 “Yet for all that, you have no faith in the Hashem your God, who goes before you on your journeys—to scout the place where you are to encamp—in fire by night and in cloud by day, in order to guide you on the route you are to follow. Upon hearing your loud complaint, Hashem became angry and vowed: Not one of those involved, this evil generation, shall see the good land that I swore to give to your fathers—" (Devarim 1:32-35).

 Moshe is speaking of a very specific incident and yet perhaps it could be understood as more. The place we are to encamp is our ultimate destination, the time when we achieve the status of a goy Kadosh and a mamleches kohanim. To reach that role, we must be able to truly recognize our dynamic relationship with Hashem. Sadly, however, like our ancestors, we often lack faith in Hashem and the future because we fail to recognize the fire by night or the cloud in the day; we fail to understand Hashem’s constant guidance as referenced by the fire and the cloud.

 The fire in the night represents – perhaps - those times that might be labeled difficult - in truth, tragic. Fire is hot and dangerous. Fire burns away the fringes. But think of a forest fire, a necessary act of nature so that the forest can grow back stronger and fresher. When we “have no faith in Hashem,” we fail to see that these challenges serve a purpose. It allows us to grow stronger.

 The cloud by day represents the good times, the times of success – the times when the Jewish people flourish and thrive – the day. Why then, you might ask, “a cloud”? In the good times, Hashem is also obscured. He hides behind a cloud so that we do not see Him directly; and He does so with good purpose. Hashem needs Bnei Yisrael to follow His path with absolute bechira, free will, and so He hides Himself away. But we, in our stubborn, human existence, fail to see beyond the cloud.

 Thus it is that Moshe’s words in Devarim 1:32-33 describe the future – our present – in which the Jewish people (and yes this means both frum people and not frum people) lack in emuna. That lack, that inability to hold on to our faith in God (although, thank God, there are many exceptions) leads to the delay in the ultimate redemption, and thus reflecting Devarim 1:35: “Not one of those involved, this evil generation, shall see the good land that I swore to give to your fathers—”

 It’s hard, if you pay attention to what is going on in the world, not to find correlations. Hashem gave us the opportunity to return to the Promised Land, but now, as our enemies grow bolder – as lies permeate the news with the conviction of fact – there are Jews themselves that are digging a hole for our people. We have, Baruch Hashem, many Kalevs and Yehoshuas, many people who understand the incredible nature of Eretz Yisrael and the relationship of Bnei Yisrael with Hashem. But there are far too many around the world who believe the lies about themselves – and it is both terrifying and depressing to watch because all of our history is already laid out for us if we look in the Torah.

 Right now, we seem to be approaching “night” and the fire seems to be getting hotter for Jews around the world. if there is one way to turn back the tidal wave of anti-Semitism, it is right here: Emuna. Belief – beyond belief. Not only must we embrace and strengthen our emunah, but we must use our emuna to fulfill the Torah.

 (Please note, it is clear in the Torah that the pillar of fire and the cloud were matters of Divine protection. This Dar Torah is just looking at them metaphorically in light of the world today.)

 MAZAL TOV! Parshas Devarim is the anniversary of these Divrei Torah, the first of which “Eleh Devarim”, was published in 5778 (2018).  Here is the link – https://cthedawn.blogspot.com/2018/07/these-are-words.html - and it is terribly sad how similar the message is – and to think how far that date was from October 7^th and the world we live in now!

 May Hashem Moshiach bmherya biyamenu. Have a beautiful Shabbas, which is a taste of the world to come.

Parshas Matos -Masai: Defiantly in Plain View

In this week’s Parsha, Parshas Matos Masai, the thirty-third chapter of Sefer Vayikra provides a repetitively phrased detailing of the travelling of Bnei Yisrael. They traveled here. They travelled there. They travelled here. They travelled there, and so forth and so on.

Not surprisingly, the great list of journeying begins in Mitzrayim: “They set out from Ramses in the first month…” However, rather than just recording the journey, as is done for most of the rest of the perek, the Torah includes some extra details: “It was on the morrow of the Pesach offering that Bnei Yisrael started out defiantly, in plain view of all the Egyptians. And the Egyptians were burstory. We all known the joke about Jewish hoying the dead that Hashem had struck down among them – every first born – whereby Hashem executed judgement on their gods” (Vayikra 33:3-4).

These details are fascinating because, if you think about it, these two brief, dare I say poetic, verses stated a truth about Jewish history. The Mitzrim are the protype of our oppressors throughout hilidays– they came to kill us, we won, let’s eat… well, except for the eating part. Remember, almost all of our great enemies are gone from the world, but we are still here.

One of the hardest truths for we as people to understand is that every great oppression that we as a nation faced was purposeful. Let’s take a biblical step back to Bereishis. The oppression of Bnei Yisrael in Mitzrayim was not a twist of fate; it was divinely orchestrated. The Mitzrim, on a celestial level, were given a Divine role to help shape the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov by pressuring them – as promised to Avraham at the Bris Bein Habaturim. And the common question is: If Hashem told Avraham that the people would be oppressed, why were the Mitzrim punished in such a devastating way. The answer: they took it too far. And, really, it’s all there in the Torah.

If you think back to Shemos, the enslavement of the Israelites began with what could be seen as a logical concern. They were worried about a minority population taking power. Slavery seems like a terrible and drastic measure to us, but not 100% impossible to understand. This logical concern was the permitted oppression – the oppression that Hashem foretold to Avraham during the bris bein habaturim. However, Pharoah and his Egyptians found more and more reasons to be paranoid of the Jews. When Pharoah started ordering babies killed, this no longer had anything to do with the oppression Hashem needed Bnei Yisrael to go through. This was when they took the power Hashem had given them and abused it, and this is the reason that the Mitzrim eventually suffered so drastically that they could barely acknowledge Bnei Yisrael were leaving (as noted in our quoted pasukim, Vayikra 33:3-4).

In an era like the one that appears to be unfolding before us now, the world keeps trying to point to a legitimate reason for their hatred. They point to Israel but attack all Jews because, really, anti-Semitism is the super-natural vehicle pushing Bnei Yisrael in the direction of redemption. And in such an era, we cannot lose sight of these verses: “…Bnei Yisrael started out defiantly, in plain view of all the Egyptians. And the Egyptians were burying the dead that Hashem had struck down among them…” It is an incredible reminder. This too shall pass, and we shall remove ourselves from our enemies in their clear view, but they will be too busy picking up the pieces to be able to witness the Divine hand.

Those who have chosen to go beyond reason and logic in their hatred of the Jewish people will be struck down, and we, who have held fast to our faith, will walk out defiantly and in plain view.

Am Yisrael Chai and Shabbat Shalom.

 

Parshas Pinchas: Do You Stand Out

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Yona Yaakova bas Mina, Chana Zelda bat Gittel Yita, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, and Yaakov ben Esther Malka.

 

The immediate thought when one sees a title like “Do You Stand Out” for Parshas Pinchas is that it is an obvious grab at a Dvar Torah. The parsha opens with Hashem publicly commending Pinchas for standing up for His honor. Pinchas’ actions, as the commentaries relay, could, with just a slight variance of moment, with a slight shift in intent, have been a crime. However, because his intentions were correct and his actions were done in just the right way, because his only thought was for Hashem, Pinchas became a Cohen with his brothers and Klal Yisrael learned what purposeful zealotry was.

 

Pinchas, however, is not the only one who stands out in this parsha. One could almost call it a motif. For instance, here too is where five women -  Machlah, No’ah, Choglah, Milkah, and Tirtzah – distinguish themselves in the Torah.  It is often mentioned how rare women are named in the Torah (although the genealogical recounting in Parshas Pinchas pauses, so to speak, to callout both Serach and Yocheved), and that reflects the true greatness of these 5 women because being named in the Torah with details – outside of a genealogical listing – represents significant action.

 

 Again, like Pinchas’ zealotry, this is a popular topic for divrei Torah. These women didn’t let convention stop them from approaching Moshe and asking for the right to inherit. And, again, like Pinchas, one can imagine that their actions when they first approached Moshe raised some eyebrows.

 

It is not just the fact that these were five women who approached Moshe – although that is not without its significance – it is the fact that they requested a change to Torah that had been delivered to them. It is interesting to note that there are only two examples (although I could be wrong) of Moshe being approached to change the law after it has been given. One is the request that led to Pesach Sheni, and the other is the request of the tribe Reuven and Gad to stay on the far side of Yarden. Having the courage to make a case for themselves is significant – all the more so, as with Tzelaphchad’s daughters and the men who asked for Pesach Sheni, when it is done l’shem shemayim.

 

Their actions could, perhaps, be interpreted as acts of quiet zealotry.  While Pinchas had only moments to act, Tzelaphchad’s daughters received the law, processed it, and refused to accept that their family branch would be cut off from their inheritance in the Land of Israel. That last bit is the important part. The daughters’ concern was for a portion of the Promised Land, not gold or jewels or wealth. Their concern was to have their father’s household be equal in its elevation.

 

This parsha contains the public acknowledgement of greatness of one other person: Yehoshua. Like Pinchas, Yehoshua’s significant actions are not recounted in this parsha. However, when Hashem tells Moshe that he will not enter the Promised Land and Moshe requests that Hashem appoint a leader, Hashem tells Moshe to take Yehoshua bin Nun, “asher ruach bo” – who has a spirit in him.

 

What does the spirit mean? One idea is that it refers to the midrash of the yud added to his name before he entered the land of Canaan with the other scouts, how Moshe subtly changed his name to give him extra spiritual strength in the journey to come. This extra experience changes him and leads him to grow into the person best able to succeed Moshe.

 

The fact is that the congregation did turn against them during the reporting of the spies, but they held their ground. And afterwards, they could have been looked at with aspersion for having brought havoc upon the people by contesting the majority. But that didn’t stop them.  In a piece on Parshas Shelach, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacs notes that having the ability to stand apart was not difficult for Calev as he had the natural spiritual courage inherited through his descendance from Yehuda. Yehoshua, however, had no such support. He had to work for it. In fact, Moshe even recognized that when he changed his name from Hoshua to Yehoshua. The name change, according to Rabbi Sacs, tells us something important. “Anyone who has experienced a name change has been inducted into a growth mindset.” That stayed with him, and Hashem here recognizes his significance.

 

Pinchas, Tzelaphchad’s daughters, and Yehoshua were all honored in the Torah because their actions, which could have been misconstrued or caused them to be derided by Klal Yisrael, were of pure intent. They are praised because they stood up for Hashem.

 

It should, however, be noted, that the parsha also expands itself when it lists the names of Dasan and Aviram as the sons of Nemuel of the tribe of Reuven  (as well as Kozbi, the seductive Midianitess – not to leave out a wicked woman). Dasan and Aviram stood up for the wrong thing. They, the commentaries say, were the actual instigators more-so than Korach, and their deeds are repeated here. They stood up for the wrong thing and are so castigated.

 

Most people will not have the opportunity in their lives to stand out the way Pinchas, Tzelaphchad’s daughters, and Yehoshua did. Nevertheless, they are people we can – and must – use as role models. We must look to Pinchas to remember that it is important to call out what is wrong, but to do so in the proper way. We must look to Machlah, No’ah, Choglah, Milkah, and Tirtzah to know that it is important to ask questions within the law because the Torah is a living law. We must look to Yehoshua to not stop at one great act but to ride forward on our spiritual strengths. Most of us may never rise to such true greatness, but we still need to find our own ways to stand out.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas

Parshas Chukat Balak: Unseen But Very Present

Let me start this week’s parasha piece of with a question: Do you feel puzzled, on some level, by the current surge in anti-semitism? Does it leave you, as it does me, with a desire to ask what exactly is going on in the universe? If you have any access to social media, you are too well versed in the irrational avalanche that is cascading against us.

 

Here’s the thing about the world that is so fascinatingly brought out by this week’s parasha. What you think you know is going on in the world is only a particle of truth of what is going on in the world. Let me explain with a detour… Are you familiar with the not so trivial trivia question of which parsha does not contain the name of Moshe? The correct answer is Tetzaveh, but Parshas Balak comes awfully close. Moshe is mentioned in this Parsha (when not paired with Chukas) only 4 times, and those in Perek 25, which recounts the events after Balaam tried to curse Bnei Yisrael.

 

Perhaps you think I did not explain my declaration concerning our complete ignorance of what is going on in the world. Well, in the entire three perakim that describe Bilaam’s hiring and his attempts to curse Bnei Yisrael, the term Israel is only mentioned 12 times – out of 81 verses (in 3 chapters). And each of those times is explaining either the view point of Bilaam or are part of his cursed blessings.

 

What is missing in this entire section of the Torah is any indication of what Bnei Yisrael was experiencing at the time. Imagine, our forefathers were just pleasantly encamped, and, somewhere high above them, there is a powerful man shouting that which was meant to be a curse upon them. Imagine, our forefathers were going about their daily lives collecting manna, and, on a not-so-distant mountain, brachos – blessings – are being rained down upon them. And all the while they have no clue – zip, zero, nadda. There is no line in the Torah such as: “And Bnei Yisrael looked up from their tents and heard the words of Balaam,” Or …”saw their enemy above them.” Or even, in anyway knew who Balak or Balaam actually were at that point. There is no pasuk that speaks of Moshe trying to stop Balaam or asking Bnei Yisrael to daven that his words be reversed.

 

Parshas Balak reflects a truth of the world. There is SO much more happening around us that we don’t see, so what we do see must always be understood as limited.

Interestingly, one question that has been asked is why Balak was panicking. From a geopolitical standpoint, one could argue that he was panicking because Bnei Yisrael had just defeated the Emorites and the Bashonites, which is true - but the entire fighting came about as defensive action after the Israelites asked for permission to cross through their lands. Balak, however, is Moav, and Hashem had no intention of Moav being displaced. But all these events take place before Bnei Yisrael even get there. Balak’s narrative starts off with him and his people being in a panic over the Israelites – who haven’t done anything to them.

 

Propaganda. False rumors. Fear mongering…. Panick and attack…and beyond all that are the orchestrations of Hashem. Sometimes, such as in Parshas Balak, our people come away unscathed (although real damage occurs in the aftermath), Other times, we face tremendous challenges, and we go through a terrible and difficult period of suffering and then growth. At all times, however, there is far more going on then we see. Above us, beyond us, away from us… curses are turned into blessings.

 

So may we see it soon.

 

I wish you all a good Shabbas

Parshas Korach: Overcoming and Elevating, a Lesson for Humans

 

Parshas Korach: Overcoming and Elevating, a Lesson for Humans

Here is a question on Parshas Korach…

The story of Korach begins like this: “Korach son of Yitzhar son of Kehat son of Levi took himself aside, together with Dathan and Aviram sons of Eli’av, and On son of Pelet, descendants of Reuben. They confronted Moshe together with 250 men from the Israelites, including the princes of the community, summoned for the meeting, and other men of repute. They assembled against Moshe and Aaron. They said to them, ‘You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire community—all of them—are holy, and God is in their midst. Why do you raise yourselves above God’s assembly?’” (Bamidbar 16:1-3)

 

Two hundred and fifty men…That’s not Korach and a few neighbors on the block. That’s not a spontaneous reaction. That’s planning. That’s setting about and shmoozing to encourage and enflame. So why doesn’t the Torah relay Korach’s actions of creating this small mob? Then again, one could also ask: Why doesn’t the Torah straight out say what the Midrash tells us, that Korach was jealous, that he wanted to be elevated the way his cousins (Moshe and Aaron) were?

 

Obviously, these are rhetorical questions because the Torah is full of narratives whose motivations are obscure. Just look at how ambiguously Yaakov’s interactions with Esav are described. But let’s explore one idea… We know from the end actions that Korach was full of negative feelings about the choice of leaders. We know, from the Midrash, that his discontent was stirred and enhanced by his wife. We know, from the first pasuk, that he joined himself with Dasan and Aviram, who were already marked as malcontents. He didn’t, one can assume, speak only to the 250 people who agreed with him; we can assume that there were people he talked to who disagreed … He was probably walking around fuming from within for several days before he steps forth into the parsha.

 

So what? Well, one thing about the Torah is that, in so many ways, it affirms being human. It recognizes that we have negative feelings and it gives room for them. He’s not punished for the before. The question is what do we do with those feelings. Do we find a way to understand the situation from a new angle, find a way to fix a problem, find away to take on a new role and perspective, or do we, ya know, lead a rebellion.

 

The very suddenness of Korach’s rebellion has allusion to its insipient nature. We know Korach was sneaking around because there is no statement of a grumbling started among the people of Israel. There is just Korach and Dasan and Aviram bringing 250 men to confront Moshe and Aaron. All his work was kept in the dark recesses so as not to draw attention. If it feels secretive, it probably isn’t wholesome.

 

Now, you may ask an obvious question. How is one to know if their complaint is legitimate? We see in history that sometimes change is necessary, and that undercurrent gatherings like Korach’s are powerful forces of change. … the fact is that Korach’s choice of bringing a group with complaint to Moshe could be seen as him making a legitimate move.

 

The turnkey phrase is the last line of the third verse  “Why do you raise yourselves above God’s assembly?” Korach wasn’t asking why Moshe and Aaron merited their positions; he is asking why they raised themselves above. He is revealing a lack of bitachon that Hashem runs the world even in minutia, that Hashem structured Klal Yisrael this way. He is making it personal – raise yourselves up, indeed!

 

And perhaps we should address the other side of that coin of humanity, which is Moshe’s initial reaction because, really, if you think about it, it is an incredibly strange reaction. He fell on his face before them and called on Hashem to judge the truth.

 

The most normal reaction would anger… despair… both normal. And really, probably most normal… incredulity. Moshe had every reason to turn around and laugh at what they said, or to sarcastically question their sanity. Moshe would have every right to have gone off on a mad tirade about taking too much upon himself when he faced down Pharoah or led the nation through the sea or was the one who went up to Har Sinai when all the rest of Bnei Yisrael were too afraid. Instead, Moshe took everything that they said to heart, and he took them seriously.

 

Perhaps you are right now thinking that Moshe DID get mad. You’re right.. but only later, only after Dasan and Aviram blatantly and rudely refuse to meet with him and, instead, accused him of bad leadership and even verbally spit at him in Pasuk 16:14 by saying “Even if you gouge out the eyes of those men, we will not go up.” Only then does he get angry.

 

But after the group first comes to him, Moshe really stops and worries and asks Hashem to make a judgement, because unlike their accusations, Moshe assumes that there is a possibility of truth to their accusation.

 

This piece is going to wind down ineloquently… there are lots of lessons one can take from the Parsha of Korach, but perhaps one of the most important one is that in ourselves and in others, we must recognize (as Hashem does throughout the Torah) how utterly human each of us is. You may have feelings of jealousy; you’re human. You may have moments of insecurity; you’re human. When those feelings and moments come, accept your humanity but look to Hashem for guidance, cling to the Torah for a way to overcome and elevate.

 

 

 

Parshas Shelach: The Juxtaposition of Intention

 This week’s parsha, Parshas Shelach, contains one of the most well-known stories of Bnei Yisrael in the desert – the story of the spies. Actually, I prefer the term scouts, so I will use that henceforth because it is more accurate as to what their initial endeavor was meant to be.  They were checking out the land that they were going to conquer…and then it became more of the conceptual idea of spies because from the perception of 10 of the scouts, they were now spying on enemies.

 

The story of the meraglim covers a large portion of the parsha and takes most of the attention. Following the scouting and spying, following the crying of the nation, and following the disastrous decision of a large group of Israelites to try to enter the promised land after all of that, the Torah reverts to laws, and in the sixth aliyah there is an interesting set of pasukim: “If you-all unwittingly fail to observe any one of the commandments that Hashem has declared to Moshe—anything that Hashem has enjoined upon you-all through Moshe—from the day that Hashem gave the commandment and on through the ages. If this was done unwittingly, through the inadvertence of the community, the whole community shall present …. The whole Israelite community and the stranger residing among them shall be forgiven, for it happened to the entire people through error” (Vayikra 15:23-24, 26).

 

When you realize how close this is to the narrative of the scout – separated, really, only by the command to separate challah… food of thought for another time… it makes us look back and think about the significance of unwitting actions.

 

Let’s look back at the meraglim. These men were chosen because of who they were. They were leaders, great men. Surely those men did not go with the intention of creating problems or rejecting Hashem’s plan, THAT would have been mentioned in the Torah, one would surmise. They got to the promised land, panicked, and returned to then publicly mislead Bnei Yisrael about Eretz Canaan.

 

They did something that had terrible consequences, but they, most likely, started off with good intentions. One of the most critical and fascinating aspects of Jewish life is how significant intention is. Not always, but often, one’s intention can shape, on a spiritual level, the effectiveness of one’s actions.  This is important because, if you hadn’t noticed, most of us are pretty darn human. Humans mess up all the time, make mistakes all the time, but Hashem knows that; He expects that.  Most of the time our mistakes are harmless, but sometimes they are massive. And, in truth, even when it comes to mistakes, intention matters.

 

The mefarshim actually explain these verse, 15:23 on, as referring to idolatry – when the whole group goes astray on idolatry. Basically, if you, you know, accidentally start worshiping false gods…which, to you and me of the 21^st century, sounds rather ridiculous. Religious actions, one would think, should be very intentional thing given that they are centered on devotion. Let’s go back to the meraglim…

 

The meraglim were great men. Each man was a leader of his tribe. They were devout. They wanted to serve Hashem -- And they went wrong. Should not this idea have applied to them? Did they really expect to infect all of Bnei Yisrael with doubt? One hopes not, but they also didn’t stop when they were corrected. And they also weren’t the whole community, since Yehoshua and Calev were trying, in vain, to defend Eretz Yisrael. They had warning even as they were leading the klal astray, and they, the 10 leaders, ignored it.

 

The meraglim were not evil men of ill intent. They set out with honest goals, then, unwittingly, took the wrong message from everything they saw and refused to be reminded of the wonders that Hashem does. Had they listened to Yehoshua and Calev…well, the story would be different then, wouldn’t it. For now, let us just take this as a reminder that even with the best intentions one can go astray, but once one goes astray, all is not lost if one realizes the error of his ways.

 

Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas… and really hoping I made sense!