Active Faith (Lech Lecha #3)

One interesting understandings of the name Yisrael is as He Who Wrestles with God. As the Torah clearly states, the Children of Israel are a stiff-necked people; we wrestle with God because basic, blind faith is not the foundation of our relationship with the Divine. The thirteen principles of faith, as enumerated by Maimonides, are referred to as Ani Ma’amin, which is usually translated as “I

believe.” But the grammar is a little awkward. On OU.org (from 2006), there is a definition of the term ma’amin that states that translating it as believe or one who believes is inaccurate because “the grammatical form is ‘hepheil,’ the ‘causative,’ rather than ‘pa’al,’ the ‘active,’ indicating a more pro-active verb. In other words, believing in something of a spiritual nature, requires an effort of the mind and the imagination of the individual, and is not merely a passive ‘act.’”

It may seem strange to speak of Yisrael, the name given to Yaakov after he wrestled with a Divine messenger, in a dvar Torah of Parshas Lech Lecha. Perhaps, however, it is the perfect spot, for does not any journey of achieving active belief begin with lech lecha – go for yourself. More than that, within the parsha and the journey of Avram, we see that even the greatest of believers has questions and seeks assurance.

In five separate instances in Parshas Lech Lecha, Hashem speaks to Avram and reassures him. The first appearance is the command of lech lecha, go for yourself. This was Hashem’s first direct communication with Avram. His second is shortly thereafter, when Avram and family arrive in Canaan and Hashem declares that “to your seed I will give this land” (12:7). These two promises are necessary since they are, in a way, explanatory of why Avram should make this journey and to confirm that this is the land he will inherit.

But when Avram finds his promised land suffering a dire famine, Hashem doesn't speak to him or offer a reassurance. Avram didn't need it. He was on a journey. There was no questioning from Avram because he was actively moving forward. He went to Egypt, and, for his hishtadlus (effort), he eventually saw the necessity of going to Egypt, to acquire wealth and to demonstrate Hashem’s direct protection of his family.

After such a dramatic journey to Egypt and back, it seems, then, particularly interesting that it is only after the departure of Lot that Hashem felt the need to repeat His promise. After Avram sends Lot away, Hashem immediately speaks to him of inheritance and ownership of the land, commanding him to “walk the land, to its length and to its breadth,” (13:17).

The first time Avram separates from Lot, Hashem knows Avram will benefit from reassurance. After all, Lot had been with him on his entire journey thus far. The second time they separate, after Avram intervenes in the war between the kings, rescues his nephew, and sends Lot away again, Avram steps forward to question his childlessness. “O Lord God, what will You give me since I am going childless, and the steward of my household is Eliezer of Damascus?...Behold, You have given me no seed, and behold, one of my household will inherit me” (15:3-4). Avram trusts Hashem, but he is willing to question Him. His question is a request for clarity, for seeing the path forward. For this, Hashem instructs him in the Bris Bein Ha’baturim, the Covenant of the Parts, and provides him with a prophetic testimony of the future.

It is interesting that Hashem does not feel a need to reiterate his promise to Avram for another 13 years. Perhaps because Avram was seeing how his wish for a son when it is fulfilled in Avram’s time frame is not the path set out by God. Avram’s oldest son is Ishmael, the son of Hagar. For 13 years, Avram must have struggled to understand how this child – willful, devious, and so oppositional to Avram’s journey – could be his heir. Avram must have wondered how Hashem could fulfill his promise of a child and made that child so not right for journey ahead. But Hashem needed Avram to see and to understand so that he could accept Hashem’s request and requirement of bris milah. His watching Ishmael prepared him for the physical covenant made through his body that was necessary for Yitzchak to be born, for the spiritual DNA to pass from parent to child. This too was the moment when he developed past his own wants to one who could fully understand that he needed to heed Hashem’s desires for him. This understanding was critical for the coming test of the Akeida.

Lech Lecha is a parsha of emuna. Most of us have grown up reading it in awe of Avram’s seemingly blind faith to leave his home and everything familiar. But it was never blind faith. It was always about being ma’amin, an active and engaged believer. And from here we can learn how it is through being a ma’amin that we develop a true relationship with Hashem.

This dvar Torah is dedicated to a refuah shelaima for: Binyamin Yisrael ben Chanita, Dovid Chaim ben Tzipora, Melech Chaim ben Bella, and Chaim Yehoshua ben Frumit.

What Clean Means (Noah #3)

Life is precious - all life. This might be a strange statement with which to start a Dvar Torah on parshas Noah, the parsha in which Hashem destroys all life save for Noah, his family, and all the animals he brought with him into the Ark. However, in an era where people are once again clamoring about distinctions being both good and bad, perhaps we can find a new insight into the role of the Jewish people.

Of all the stories in the Torah, Noah is one of the most familiar. It has been absorbed, shared, and retold by the common culture. And yet it is interesting to note that in almost every depiction - whether artistic, toy, or comical - there is more focus on the animals arriving two by two than on the actual details given in the Torah that necessitate some animals boarding the teva in seven pairs. The confusion is easy to understand. First of all, it is much easier to envision two of every animal rather than trying to understand how the Ark could contain two of each animal and then some. Just picture six additional sets of oxen, not to mention twelve more giraffes. More seriously, however, the two by two depiction is most probably because Hashem first declares: "And of all that lives, of all flesh, you shall take two of each into the Ark. To keep alive with you; they shall be male and female. From birds of every kind, cattle of every kind, every kind of creeping thing on the Earth, two of each shall come to you to stay alive" (6:18 - 19).

It is only four verses later, into the next chapter and after Noah has completed the Ark., that Hashem tells him: Of every clean animal you shall take seven pairs, males and their mates, and of every animal that is not clean, two, a male and its mate; of the birds of the sky also, seven pairs, male and female, to keep seed alive upon all the Earth " (7:2-3).

The most intriguing thing about these verses is that Hashem does not, here, specify what He means when He tells Noah "of every clean animal." Later in the Torah, after Bnei Yisrael has been established, we learn about the requirement of chewing the cud and split hooves and about which animals to be careful not to mistake for acceptable, but not here. Here is just a vague instruction. Rashi says that in these verses there is proof that Noah knew the Torah. Other commentators postulate that Noah came to his own correct conclusion of which animals were clean based on whether the animals were faithful to their species in their mating. Interestingly, Nachmonides suggests that "From each of them came two - a male and female - of their own accord. Noah additionally brought six pairs of the clean animals. Those [two] animals that came to be saved came of their own accord, but as for those that were needed as offerings, [Noah] exerted himself in the performance of the commandment [to take them in]."

This commentary hints at the secondary discussion of the question as to why Noah needed more clean animals than regular animals. At this time, humankind was still forbidden from eating meat, so the goal here could not have been a permissible food source. Rather it is understood by most of the commentators that the instructions to bring seven pairs of clean animals into the Ark was in order to provide a supply of acceptable offerings after they exited the Teva. The concept of clean and unclean animals may have been mysterious to Noah - as, indeed, one might even say about the need for a diet with such distinctions remains mysterious today since it is a chok (a halacha/law that has no common sense explanation) - but there are some particular characteristics that do appear common among, although not exclusive to, the kosher animals. For instance, the fact that kosher animals are neither hunters nor scavengers.

Within his larger commentary, Chizkuni makes an interesting statement: “Seeing that due to the fact that these species (clean animals) would [one day] be allowed as food, the dangers that unless there were multiple pairs of them in the Ark, they might die out, make it plausible that the Torah ordered him to take seven pairs of each. Even though certain other unclean mammals serve as food for the gentiles, such as pigs, etc, the fact that these give birth to multiple young made it unlikely that they would die out even if only a single pair of them would be taken into the Ark…. ‘take for yourself;’ seven males and seven females each, so as to diminish the chances that they would die out” (translation from Sefaria).

This seemed an interesting thought in that while there are plenty of wild animals that give birth to only one or two offspring at a time (like elephants), many of the unclean creatures have surprising rates of reproduction. No kosher animals produce their young in litters or broods, and so Hashem took action to make certain of their survival.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch comments on the term habehaima hatahara, the clean animal, that "tahar is related to tzahar, the transparent, the particles of which are homogeneous, and allow rays of light to pass through them. So that tahar is receptive, that which allows God’s rays to pass through, offers no resistance to them."

There is an integral aspect of the so-called clean animals that makes them tahor, that makes them more receptive to the Divinity in the world, which is why they were acceptable as offerings and, eventually, designated as food for the nation that chose an active relationship with Hashem.

Rav Hirsch concludes his commentary, however, by explaining that the commandment for additional animals doesn’t have such a mundane purpose. Why are these animals designated as clean, or pure, he explains that the command to take "seven pairs of the clean animals, was given to Noah with an eye to his future offerings, or for the future requirements for food in accordance with the laws of God, or out of consideration of both factors, in any case we can understand why this command is introduced with the name Hashem. Simply for the purpose of the preservation of the animal world in general there would be no reason for taking more than three times more of the clean animals. The ‘purity’ of animals only exists in connection with the purposes of the education of humankind which the name Hashem represents.”

These ruminations on the animals declared clean and the animals declared unclean have a shadow of a thought about the world population in general and the Jewish people. The concept of being a nation singled out is often misunderstood. It does not make us better; it means that we are expected to live up to a higher purpose. Hashem provided the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov with special rules and a different task from the rest of the nations because they opened themselves up to be receptacles of Hashem’s gifts, like the tahor animals. And like the clean animals taken in as extras on the ark, the Jewish people have been willing to sacrifice themselves to bring Hashem into the world. But while the extra clean animals are wanted and needed, this does not mean that Hashem’s love for the whole is any less, for Hashem made it clear first and foremost that “of all that lives, of all flesh, you shall take two of each into the Ark.”

*Tahor is most often translated as either clean or pure, neither of which is an accurate definition.

Seeing God (Bereishis #2)

 Bereishis: Seeing Good

When the time came for the Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the World, to make the first human being, the ministering angels made themselves into competing counsels. Some of them said, ‘don’t create humans,’ and the others said, ‘create them.’ The angel of chesed (kindness) said, ‘create them, for they will do acts of loving kindness.’ Then the angel of emes (truth) said, ‘do not create them, for they will be full of lies.’ The angel of tzedek (righteousness) said, ‘create them, for they will establish justice.’ The angel of shalom (peace) said, ‘do not create them, for they will be in constant strife!’ What did the Ribono Shel Olam, do, but grab up emes and hurl it to the earth. Whereupon the ministering angels said before the Ribono Shel Olam, ‘Ruler of all worlds, what have You done? Why have You so chastised the chief of your court? Let emes arise again from the earth’ (Bereshit Rabba, 8:8).

The Zera Shimshon, as recorded by Rabbi Nachman Seltzer, explains that “the Ribono shel Olam listened to what emes was saying. When it was time to create man, He threw emes down to earth, forcing it to play a role in a world whose default setting is one of compromise, and which desperately needs truth to balance the scale so the compromises bring it close to truth and ultimate justice” (page 46).

Truth was cast to earth, and yet we are all aware of how difficult a time humankind has both with sticking to the whole truth and with discerning when people are or are not telling the truth. Indeed, this seems even more so the case in recent times, when rather than participate in conversation, many feel justified in shouting their opinions rather than researching facts. And even when facts are known they are used as justifications for one point of view over another rather than as information upon which a person can use their own free will and critical thinking. Indeed, a little more of that necessary spirit of compromise would be greatly beneficial.

While things feel more desperate today, one could look at history and suggest that this is simply the way of the world. Humanity has always struggled with balance and compromise. God cast truth to the earth, but truth itself was hidden in the world. More importantly, the ability to see absolute truth – to understand the greater picture from all perspectives – remained purely in the hands of the Ribono shel Olam. This is perhaps reflected in the first chapter of Bereishis, when it is written on the first day: “And God saw that the light was good. And God separated between the light and the darkness” (1:4).

We see here, in the very first steps of creation, the seeming necessity of division, of having two sides to contrast against one another. Could there be light if there was not darkness? Rabbi Yonason Eibeschutz, quoted in Sefer Talelei Oros:

Observes that normally good qualities are recognized in contrast to their opposites. For instance, if we see a good person and an evil person we recognize the goodness of the first by contrasting it with the evil of the second. Therefore, the order of the verse should have been reversed. The recognition of the goodness of the light would come as a result of its contrast to darkness. However, this limited vision only applies to human beings. God knows the value of everything in absolute terms.

Humankind can only choose what they believe is good based on what they believe is bad. But being able to look at the integral essence and know something is good is a quality reserved for the Divine. This is how the world needs to be if it is not to be torn apart by division. Free will demands that we have to shape our morality, even within the parameters guided by Torah, just as Free Will necessitates the lack of open miracles so that we might retain the ability to make choices.

It is easy, of course, to sit here and write a reminder to all that humankind’s hold on truth is fluid. We like to make much of being on the right side, of the us versus them, which leads, unfortunately, into a thought pattern of good verses evil. But rather than focusing on the division, or on claiming to be the light – the good and true - perhaps we need to spend more time thinking about how our world thrives on differences.

There is a phrase that has become quite common in the media and in public discourse: “My Truth.” No phrase brings to mind so quickly the fact that humans are incapable of pure objectivity. We always have an agenda of some level or another. And in a world where truth is so heavily influenced by perspective, it is especially important to remember that the ultimate decision of what is good is in the hands of Hashem.

Haazinu - Every Moment, Every Word

Parshas Haazinu is a difficult parsha about which to write. It is one perak (chapter) of 52 verses, almost all of which are written as a poetic song, a song that contains much of the same theme of punishment and redemption for the nation that has been described in the last few parshios. This song is written and taught to Bnei Yisrael as Hashem commanded Moshe at the end of Vayelech. "And now write for yourselves this song and teach it to Bnei Yisrael. Place it in their mouth in order that this song will be for Me as a witness for Bnei Yisrael" (Devarim 31:19). 

Many great Torah scholars comment that "this song" refers to the whole Torah, while others say it is a reference to Haazinu only. This is not a conflict. Haazinu is the Torah's finale, to borrow a term from Broadway. It is the final song meant to bring everything before it to a fulfilling conclusion and, hopefully, to remain as a tune in one's head. Obviously, this is a lehavdil connection, a droll way of making a point. For Bnei Yisrael to learn Haazinu, to be taught this specific shira by Moshe, was a way for him to emphasize to them the significance of the whole Torah. 

As Moshe finishes teaching Haazinu to the people, he says to them: "Set your hearts to all of the words which I bear witness for you this day, so that you may instruct your children to observe to do all the words of this Torah. For it is not an empty thing for you, for it is your life, and through this thing, you will lengthen your days upon the land to which you are crossing over the Jordan to possess it" (32:46 - 47). Coming so close after the shira of Haazinu, these verses are easy to overlook, but they hold a message of great importance. You cannot memorize the entire Torah, so let this final song echo in your minds and remind you constantly of the Torah, to do all of its words - for none of this is meaningless to you. 

In one part of his commentary on verse 32:47, Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes an important concept that is the foundation of Jewish life and Torah scholarship: "In the whole Torah there is no word in which you, i.e. your whole existence and your purposes, is not included in it. No single word of the Torah is indifferent to you. In every one you can find important truths which have a bearing on your whole life." And so we study it, year after year. In just two weeks, on Simchas Torah, we will start the Torah reading cycle all over again, and we will continue to find revelations in it that we just did not see last year, or ideas and guidance that had never been needed before.

Necham Leibowitz, in her Studies in Devarim: Haazinu 5, explains a beautiful thought by the Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin):

The Netziv points here to the essential quality of poetry as it condensation and compressed nature and its allusiveness. This 19th century Talmudist, steeped in Rabbinic law, expresses, in his own language, the distinctions between prose and verse that have been defined for us, today, in technical terminology by modern literary critics and students of semantics. Poetry is essentially symbolic, and requires constant reading over, in order to taste its full significance. It has many levels of meaning.

From a writing point of view, the Torah has an incredible array of styles - flowing narrative, sketched prose, terse commandments, and, of course, direct poetry and songs. Each of these "styles" may speak more to one person or another, but, as Ms. Leibowitz continues: 

The lesson contained in these concluding verses of the Torah is the importance of each detail. There is nothing superfluous in the Torah and no sliding scale of values between its different portions. This seemingly most insignificant and prosaic detail hidden in the folds of a story is of equal importance to its philosophy and fundamental laws. All goes under the name of "Torah." If we can find no significance in a particular detail, if it is "a vain thing," then the fault is ours and due to our lack of understanding, our failure to labour to discover its meaning.

Even the transitions of the sections of the Torah have meaning and significance. In fact, it interesting to note that after the powerful words of verse 32:47, the parsha concludes with Hashem instructing Moshe to ascend to Mount Nebo to see the land and then finish his life "because you betrayed me in the midst of Bnei Yisrael at the waters of meribah" (32:51). At the waters of meribah, Moshe heard Hashem's instructions to talk to the rock but struck it instead; Moshe chose not to listen to the specific words, but to act from his own instinct. He wants his people not to make the same mistakes. In verse 32:47, this is what he is warning Bnei Yisrael against. This song, this Torah, the words of Hashem, are not empty - they are everything. They are what will entitle you to this land. 

They say that the Bible is the most read books in the world (although Harry Potter may be catching up - just kidding!). A person who has no faith may not understand why that is, but for Jews of every time, these words connect. Even when we do not understand their meaning, they resonate in our neshamos, our souls. This brings to mind Rabbi Shimshon Rephael Hirsch's other explanations of verse 32:47, in which we see a powerful encapsulation of the significance of Torah to ourselves in all times: "This testifying exhortation for you to understand and keep the Torah is not a speech which does not concern your whole existence and purposes, it contains your whole existence." 

We are in a period between the Day of Judgement and the Day of Atonement, the Shabbas on which we are meant to be focused on teshuva, repentance. Think about Moshe’s words, about his warning that none of this should be “empty” to you. The basic understanding that Torah is life needs to be the driving force of our actions. At the very least, we should be challenging ourselves to reach for that as a goal. When we do proper teshuva we are acknowledging that we understand exactly how critical Torah is to our lives. 

ROSH HASHANA 5781: Sacrifice for Family

As of Rosh Hashana, our family of seven will have been secluded together for 10 days. In the spring, when everyone was in their homes, it was different. It was easier. In this current situation and leading up to the Day of Judgement, it becomes almost natural to question what Hashem wants. I can't listen to a shiur. I can't open a sefer. Indeed, between wake up calls and endless rounds of dishes and cooking, I can only get this writing done by blackmailing my children for quiet time - and even then it's a struggle. If there is a message to take from quarantine, I think it is (even as I struggle to fulfill it) that I need to focus on my job, which is my family. They are my gift, and they are my test. They are my joy, and they are my sorrow - on an hourly basis! 

Every year there are women around the world who struggle with the duality of their lives during this time when all around is the anticipation of the beautiful davening that is to come. During the Yamei Noraim, they long for the days of spiritual infusion through heartfelt, communal tefilos, while also recognizing that they need to stay home to ensure the well-being of their family. This year, for many of us, even the choice of that to duality has been removed, but the emotional struggle remains. 

It is interesting to realize that this question is not new and that, like so many other things, this is addressed by our sages through their choice of the Torah that we read on Rosh Hashana. If I were to ask you to tell me, without pausing to think, what that portion is, most people would not struggle to respond: the akeida, the offering of Yitzchok. But the truth is that the Torah reading of Rosh Hashana starts long before Hashem calls upon Avraham to bring up his son. It begins with Yitzchak’s birth, and it is all about the joys and challenges of parenthood. From the celebrations of life and the early milestones that are pure joy, it introduces the more complicated sides of being a parent. Parenting means choices, sometimes choices that are so difficult they tear you apart - as in the story of YIshmael and Hagar. We might know that Avraham is making the right decision to send Yishmael away, but one cannot ignore how painful a decision it was for him (“The matter greatly distressed Avraham regarding his son "- Bereishis 21:11) or miss the fact that he set out to do as much as he could for the boy (waking early and preparing sustenance himself for Yishmael and Hagar - 12:14). One could jokingly say that the entire second half of Vayeira might well be titled "Parenting is Hard." 

The narrative of the akeida is not told from the perspective of Yitzchak, because it wasn't about him. It’s about Avraham the father. One might see in the akeida a type of bildungsroman, a reverse coming of age story, if you will. According to the midrash, Yitzchak was in his late thirties when the akeida took place. In the biblical narrative, he was a baby, then he was a toddler (weaned), and then he was a tormented little brother … his next appearance in the Torah is when he is being lead by his father to an unknown location. There has never been an expression of Yitzchok developing a personal relationship with Hashem - until the akeida, until his father shows him that for God we must be ready to sacrifice that which is most precious to us. Obviously, this is not meant to mean we should all be ready to sacrifice our children. Rather, I am pointing out that often times doing what is best for our children, for their development spiritually, requires sacrifice from ourselves. The narrative of the akeida, however, shows us Avraham making these sacrifices with seemingly total calm and acceptance - not even a melodramatic murmur or a sigh of a martyr. 

My spirituality, my need to go to shul or to listen to shiurim in the days before the chag, are not significant compared to my children's need of my presence. (If you can do it all properly, yasher koach!)

As they approached the mountain, Yitzchak finally speaks, and the midrash tells us that he then understands that he is meant to be the sacrifice. This is the moment of YItzchak’s entering spiritual adulthood. After the akeida, his relationship with Hashem is his own separate relationship. And at the end of the akeida, we understand that Hashem never intended for Avraham to sacrifice his son. This is not just from the malach stopping him In the final crucial moments, but when one looks back at the initial request one sees that Hashem asked Avraham to being his son up to him, l’alot, but never uses specific words for an actual offering. Avraham’s misunderstanding, however, was the ultimate goal because it was his opportunity to demonstrate spiritual sacrifice. 

When my children are grown and they return to me to celebrate Yom Tov as adults with their own personal relationships with Hashem, my current actions that feel like a sacrifice now will seem as if they were nothing. And being locked up in quarantine for Rosh Hashana will just be a story we all enjoy when we sit and reminisce.

I wish you all a Shana Tova u’metuka, full of health and joy.

 

Lessons From The Year To Come 2020 (Nitzavim-Vayelech 2020)

This year, we will not blow the shofar on the first of Tishrei. This year, we will fast on a Friday. This year, we will make certain to finish our Purim Seudah early. And this year, we will not burn our chametz on erev Yom Tov. For the last six months we have worried and made jokes about the state of 2020, but now we are looking ahead and we realize that next year really will be different. Rosh Hashana the First Day is on Shabbat. The tenth of Teves is on a Friday, as is Purim. The first seder is Saturday night.

Each of these small calendar changes, when thought of on their own, seem odd and perhaps a bit of a nuisance. They may even make you uncomfortable. What is Rosh Hashana without shofar? How can we fast on a Friday? Indeed, how does one make a great Purim Seuda on a Friday? (Hint: Brunch, for those who, like me, love fancy breakfast foods!)

When we step back and look at the calendar as a whole, we realize that it is an amazing thing, especially in the wake of Covid. First the structure of our daily lives was “shaken,” and now, by the brilliant nature of our calendar, our Jewish sense of time has also been undermined.

Perhaps more significant is the fact that this double shake up affects all of Klal Yisrael, a fact that brings to mind the beginning of this week’s parsha, Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech: “You are all standing this day before the Lord your God, the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers, every man of Israel, your young children, your women, and your convert who is within your camp…in order to establish you this day as His people, and that He will be your God, as He spoke to you, and as He swore to your forefathers, to Avraham, to Yitzchak, and to Yaakov” (Devarim 29:9-12). As we well know, the scare of the pandemic affected everyone, rich and poor, powerful and simple. So too, every Jew, no matter where they live, will have to take a moment and think as they prepare to observe 5781’s calendar.

When Moshe spoke those words to Bnei Yisrael, both he and they were facing the future, so to speak. They all knew that his death was imminent. For the Children of Israel, this meant that they needed to be resolved to be brave and move ahead. But while Moshe’s Hayom, this day, may have meant that specific day on the edge of the Promised Land, the recording of hayom in the Torah reminds us that every pasuk of the Torah is eternal. Every pasuk has meaning in every generation, and every day we have to look and understand its implications for our life.

This day, this hayom, now in 2020, the effects of Covid are making an impact on the lives of Jews in every country. All around us, people are speaking about living with a “new normal.” No one really knows what that means, so we do not think about what comes next. We look to the future and picture life as we would like it to be…crowded shuls filled with uplifting tefillos, sukkot filled with joyful guests, and our children attending school without rules and fear. And here we come to Rosh Hashana to look at our upcoming year and see one irregularity after another.

When the world first shut done and we all participated in the peculiar preparations for Pesach, I thought perhaps the time had come…that Moshiach was coming softly and somewhat gently (without a frightening precursor war of Gag Umagog). Pesach came and went, though, and we all settled into new routines. But the new routines kept changing, and we kept receiving different memos on policy, and we realized that the very idea of these expectations must be changed.

It’s Elul, and if there is one message I can concoct between this month of cheshbon hanefesh and teshuva and our lives in 2020 with a crazy 5781 calendar, it is that we Jews should recognize that change, that something different, is an opportunity. A new year is a new slate, a new chance to grow and reach our individual potential. As the world around us shouts that we must live our lives by a “new normal,” perhaps the message is not, after all, about masks and social distancing, but about ourselves. We must remember a different hayom (this day) from Parshat Nitzavim: “Behold, I have set before you this day life and good, death and evil” (Devarim 30:15). What stronger allusion to Rosh Hashana can their be?

Every Rosh Hashana is momentous. This year, however, with the world discomfited by a global pandemic and civil unrest, we have to seize the opportunity to bring out our holy light and shine.

How do we do so? It’s a great question, and one that our nation has struggled with throughout the generations. Perhaps, for right now, we need to remember the repeated words of Parshat Vayelech: “Chazka v’emetzBe strong and courageous!” Don’t take Covid-19 lightly but contemplate the potential messages of this modern-day plague and the beginning of strange new year.

When It's Ours (Ki Tavo #3)

"Yet to this day the Lord has not given you a mind to understand or eyes to see or ears to hear .... " (Devarim 29:3). This seemingly simple verse is tucked away at the far end of Parsha Ki Tavo, easily missed after reading the heavy words of the Bikkurim declaration, the list of actions worthy of being cursed, and the terrifying description of the path away from Torah and Hashem. In context, these are words of gentle tochacha, as Moshe wonders at how those who had witnessed so many miracles and wonders could still harbor doubts and complaints. And yet, at the same time, this verse is comforting. From our ages old vantage point, our people have borne witness to everything that was promised and everything that was forewarned. We have seen, as well, just how challenged each generation, and each individual, is to be all that Hasherm hopes for us to become. Devarim 29:3 tells us that this too is Divine. 

Parshas Ki Tavo contains some of the most terrifying and heart-wrenching words in the Torah. After 15 verses describing an idyllic life should Bnei Yisrael "obey the Lord your God, to observe faithfully all his commandments" (28:1), the next 53 verses describe the nightmare of going into gulus - nightmares we have seen come true throughout history. Knowing that we can see the actual unfolding of those curses, one must wonder how it is possible for us to continually make the same mistakes. And there in 29:3 is a hint of the answer: that our ability to understand, to see, and to hear the Divine messages that resonate all around us comes from Hashem. 

One could, of course, take this theory, brush their hands off, and declare life solved - they will take on Torah and mitzvos when Hashem makes them ready. That person, however, is missing the more important meaning, which is that this is part of the process of coming to devakus, to clinging to Hashem.  Perhaps there is significance to the fact that this parsha is read in the month of Elul. Right here in pasuk 29:3, there is a rallying cry for teshuva, tefila, and tzedaka. Open your eyes to the needs of others around you - tzedaka. As you daven, listen to your words and try to understand them - tefila. Make connections to other people properly, with empathy and understanding of how they approach the world - teshuva (repairing your relationships bein adam l’chavero). These actions are critical for the neshama to connect to Hashem, and they prepare one, in incremental steps, to receive the ultimate gift from Hashem, which is being able to understand how to be a proper eved to Him. 

On this pasuk, 29:3, Rashi's commentary says In:

I have heard that on the day when Moses gave the Book of the Law to the sons of Levi, as it is written, (Deuteronomy 31:9) “And he gave it to the priests the sons of Levi”, all Israel came before Moses and said to him: Teacher Moses, we, too, stood at Sinai and accepted the Torah, and it was given to us; why, then, do you give the people of your tribe control over it, that they may tomorrow say to us, “Not to you was it given, but to us was it given”? Moses rejoiced at this matter and in reference to this he said to them, (Deuteronomy 27:9) “This day have you become the people [of the Lord thy God]”, meaning, Only this day have I come to understand that you are attached to and have a desire for the Omnipresent.

Only when Bnei Yisrael stood up to take hold of their birthright, stood up to claim it with joy and passion, was Hashem able to complete the process that began at Yetziat Mitzrayim.

Parshas Ki Tavo begins with the required statement recited by one who brings an offering of Bikkurim, first fruits. It is the famous lines of the Passover Haggadah that begin: "An Aramean sought to destroy my forefather…” and continues to summarize going to Egypt and the oppression that followed until Hashem rescued Bnei Yisrael and brought them to the Promised Land. Why recite this history every year? Because every generation, and within that every individual, is on its own unique journey to reach a point where Hashem grants them a mind to understand, eyes to see, and ears to hear - where Hashem helps them claim Torah and Jewish life in their hearts. 

Our communities today are filled with men and women who stepped forward and chose Torah, but it is a process that must happen throughout one’s lifetime. More importantly, it is a process that we must teach to our children, so that they can reach the promised future of the Torah because they have been blessed with understanding, and because they make the active choice to claim it as their own.