Repetitive for a Reason (Shelach)

 There is an accepted idea that there are no wasted words in the Torah, which makes it rather interesting that twice in this week’s parsha, Parshas Shlach, the Torah literally repeats itself. Furthermore, these two repetitions appear to be at opposite ends of the narrated events, as if bookmarking the events and alerting us to the fact that we must learn from our ancestors’ actions.

The first repetition is at the opening of the parasha: “Send for yourselves men to scout the Land of Canaan, which I am giving to the Children of Israel; send one man one man from each of their ancestral tribes, each one a chieftain among them” (Bamidbar 13:2). Most translation don’t write “one man one man,” but the Hebrew text is written “eesh echad eesh echad.”

The second use of repeating language is as the episode of the scouts comes to a conclusion. Having undermined their own mission and with the entire gathering of the Children of Israel having panicked at their words, Hashem doles out His displeasure by condemning the entire generation to live out their lives in the Wilderness. “You shall bear your punishment for forty years, corresponding to the number of days – 40 days – that you scouted the land: a year for a day a year for a day. Thus you shall know what it means to thwart Me” (14:34). Once again, most English translations do not include the word repetition, but the Hebrew is written: “yom lshana yom lshana.”

Is there a connection to these two repetitions? Double language in the Torah is a means of stressing a point. What that point may be is one that we have to consider. 

The first repetition is “one man one man,” which reminds us that each person is unique. Hashem did not tell Moshe to round up random individuals, but rather to think through the choices of the unique individuals. Judaism has a very strong ideology of each person being singularly important in their own right and as part of the general community of the nation. This is part of the lesson of eesh echad eesh echad. Hashem was hoping that the men chosen to be scouts could each demonstrate their abilities to be their own man, so to speak. To not need to do as the crowd does. Two of the scouts, Yehoshua (Joshua) and Caleb, were men of such caliber. The lesson for us is that we do not have to go with the crowd, to be part of the multitude. This brings us to the second repetition, yom lshana. The root of the word shana, which means year, is the same root as the verb to change or to make different. When we are able to stay true to our essential selves, we can come to yom lshana, day for change. Whether that means making changes for ourselves, like self improvement projects, or making changes to affect the world as a whole, positive change can only come from understanding our own unique gifts.

Looking at the language of yom lashana, one could also find a similarly significant message. While the usage here is that the letter lamed is the preposition "for" (a day for a year), the word lashona by itself is connected to lashon – language – and thus to the lashon harah (wicked speech) that the scouts spoke about the Promised Land. When one brings this shift in meaning to the first repetition – eesh echad eesh echad, one man one man – one can see the lesson that each person is responsible for their own speech. A person can easily be carried away by a crowd speaking lashon harah, but that is not an acceptable excuse for speaking negatively or gossiping about someone. This was the case of the scouts, who, except for Yehoshua and Caleb, did not have the courage to raise their voice separately but followed the lead of the crowd.

Lessons on the importance of speech are always meaningful. The double down of the repetitive language in Parshas Shlach is a message that encourages us to be strong and know that if we can stay true to ourselves (and be a Kiddush Hashem through our own unique talents), we can use each day to make a positive change on the world.

Covid Shavuos Personal Reflections

----This piece is dedicated li’ilui neshama Yenta bas Yaakov haLevi, my aunt, who had no children of her own, whose Yahrtzeit is 5 Sivan.

It’s almost midnight here in Montreal on the last night of the counting of the omer. Since Pesach we have been counting the days and the weeks building up to the commemoration of Zman Matan Torah, the Giving of the Torah. It’s a time when Jews around the world focus on growth, get excited about their relationship with Hashem, and crown each day with the sephiros – the ten emanations of Hashem. And tonight, as I worked in the kitchen far into the night because it’s been too hot to cook during the day, I had a sense of sadness as I reflected on where I started out at the beginning of this Sefiras Haomer and where I am now. With all of the crazy things of our current life, I thought for certain that I would be tapped into the urgency of prayer, that I would take advantage of the different schedule to learn more, and that I would put my kochos, my strengths, towards personal growth. And here I am, seven full weeks later and I have honestly done none of that.

I know, I know…you can all send me a host of rationals. I have them all too. The kids have been home, and my kids start with the youngest up at 7 and the oldest going to bed after 11, and still needing or wanting my attention. It’s harder to concentrate with the different flow to the day. I have to cook, shop, entertain and educate.

But I stopped myself from this reflection of all the things I didn’t do, all the shiurim I saw posted that I didn’t even try to tune into, and all the moments of prayer that were wasted by distraction. Seven weeks later, over ten weeks out of school and life rhythm, and I may not be following my personal expectations for myself, but I have, without question, grown closer to Hashem and His Torah (not least by the fact that I literally have a Torah in my house right now for our new, beautiful – socially distanced – backyard minyan).

When I used to write Jewish Treats (JewishTreats.org), I used to dedicate this time of year to writing about the foundation steps of the mitzvots of the Torah: the Ten Commandments. And so, today’s confessional writing of Personal Parsha Prose is a connection to these mitzvot during this time of Covid 19 Shut Down.

1)      I am the Lord your God – From the very beginning of Covid 19, it struck me (as it did many) how shocking this was to the modern mindset of our ability to control the world. Let’s face it, even devout Jews who constantly think upon a more humble mindset and recognizing Hashem’s ultimate control of the world, believe in our “right” to go where we want to, to choose the process of our children’s education, and etc. Suddenly, everyone is far too aware that we don’t control anything. And yet, from the very beginning, whenever I spoke about the situation, from the most honest place in my heart, the only response that I had was: Hashem runs the world.

2)      You shall have no idols – The first two mitzvot are obviously deeply connected. Similar to the above, just as people around the world suddenly realized how little each person has control of their world, there has been a realization that the organizations in which we put such faith are “human,” so to speak. The WHO, which did make some mistakes, is run by people – they couldn’t possibly have foreseen all the ramifications of the growing pandemic. This long state of distancing has, perhaps, provided an opportunity for recognizing not only how Hashem run’s our individual lives, but how all the other people or groups or inanimate objects (like computers) in which we put our faith, are fallible as well.

3)      Do not make a false oath – It’s not quite taking the Lord’s name in vain, but being suddenly thrown into parenting 24/7 when I am used to all of my kids being out of the house during the day, I saw how easy it was to fall into the bad parenting habit of ultimatums and bribes. If you don’t clean up after yourself I will lock you in your room (just kidding, really!). Or, if you all get along for the afternoon, I will get you pizza and ice cream. But I think I have become better at watching what I say, not making false promises or threats, and, most importantly following through with the promises I do make.

4)      Sanctify the Sabbath – You would think that in a “never-ending” series of days with the kids home that we would come to dread Shabbat, our day without electronics to alleviate at least some of the constant need for entertainment. But the truth is, now more than ever, I have come to love Shabbat. Part of it is that they just can’t have the electronics, so I have a break from what feels like an endless struggle to balance too much time on the screen. But it is more than that. As our days have grown ever less distinct, Shabbat is wonderfully distinguished. I might also add that each week as it is “suddenly” Thursday again (and thus almost Shabbat) I wonder at how quickly the week, which held no particular promise of excitement, has flown by.

5)      Honor your mother and father – I would, of course, love to write at what a transformation I have seen in my children, but, you know, babysteps 😊  I do, however, feel that I have gotten better at my own Kibud Aim (my father, alas, is gone 18 years). My mom and I have never been the type to call each other every day, and I have to admit that there have been times when quite a large number of days will pass between us speaking. But over the course of Covid 19, I have tried to put calling her at the forefront of my mind. Of course, this is easy to do, because, thank God, my mom is an easy going, warm and wonderful.

6)      Do not murder – Honestly…heading into social distancing, I thought that being shut in together for weeks on end might end with murder in my household. And, again honestly, the first few weeks were hard. There were days when I had kids asking if they could move out because they couldn’t take each other anymore. But as the weeks have passed, we’ve all turned a corner, I think.  Certainly, there are days when they fight, but they are siblings and that’s to be expected.

7)      Do not commit adultery – I am going to take a wide swing here and go from a different angle. Just as I feared that my children would kill each other (or I them), I worried what Covid 19 would do to my Shalom Bayit. Like most couples in the 21^st century, my husband and I aren’t used to being together quite this much. And while we quibble over little things, I think these last few months have been a boon to our relationship.

8)      Do not steal – This is a funny commandment, actually. Not that stealing is funny, but the mepharshim explain that it actually is a prohibition about kidnapping. Feeling pretty low risk here where people are afraid to even go within 6 feet of each other!

9)      Do not bear false witness – Oh news media. I think I reflect what many people feel when I say that I wish the news media took more time before they presented information. So many “dire” news briefs have come and gone that it feels impossible to know what is true. Wear a mask, masks don’t help, masks protect others, masks increase problems…

10)   Do not covet your neighbor’s possessions – I am blessed. Of course, I have known this for a long time, but for me this has been driven home by Covid 19. Now, instead of looking or thinking about what others have or are doing, I am trying to be more conscientious of thinking about what I can do to help.

I hope you have enjoyed my rather lengthy piece this week. It’s more whimsical than I usually

publish here, and it’s blushingly honest. But I think it is important to find our own ways to make connections and to realize the amazing potential we have. I may not have managed to make the most of the last 49 days, but one of the most beautiful things I know is that personal growth is a goal for all times.

x

Time and Community (Behar)

This week’s Dvar Torah is about keeping track of time and the Torah’s overall goal of personal accountability. The Torah states: “You shall count off seven weeks of years…seven times seven years” (Vayikra 25:8). You shall count off - Is it odd that the instructions are so obscure? When I stopped and thought about it, I realized I would have expected the instruction to be more objective, something like: and it will be after seven weeks of years… But this makes one think about time. In the Torah, as noted by Rabbi Sacks pointed out, we have a lunar cycle (months) and a solar cycle (seasons) and then we have Shabbat, which is not attached to any celestial cycle. Shabbat is the seventh day, the day we count to from the end of one into the next. Day One is Sunday, Day Two is Monday, and etc and so forth.

The interesting thing about Shabbat is that it is up to us to count those days, to pay attention and remember what day it is. This is the heart of the hypothetical conversation of what does one do if one is not certain what day it is (if one is cut off from the community…the answer is, of course, ask your local Orthodox Rabbi).

When you think about it, there are actually quite a number of counting exercises in the Torah. We count for Shabbas. We count the Omer every year. We count the years til Shemittah. And we count for the Yoval.

To be quite honest, this can be challenging on one's own. However, much of the challenge is alleviated by living in a larger community that works together so that we can all keep track of our time-mitzvos. If I lose track of the Omer, I am surrounded by people I can ask. As Shemitta year approaches, I get announcements and updates.

Hashem expects us to be able to take responsibilities for ourselves, so he gives us responsibilities. But Hashem also knows that the best way for us to meet those responsibilities is as a team, a community, and, interestingly enough, He gives us guidelines for being a good team throughout Parshas Behar, the very parsha in which He instructs us of our longest counts (Shemitta and Yoval). Here are some of the significant pasukim in Parshas Behar:

1) “When you sell property to your neighbor, or buy any from your neighbor, you shall not wrong one another” (25:14).

2) “Do not wrong one another but fear your God: for I the Lord am your God” (25:17).

3) “If your kinsman, being in straits, comes under your authority, and you hold him as though a resident alien, let him live by your side. Do not extract from him advance or accrued interest, but fear your God. Let him live by your side as your kinsman” (25:35-36).

Our society is made up of a great swath of people. Some people are very on top of things, so to speak. They have no trouble keeping track of time or objects. Others are more, shall we say, broadly focused, but that same laxness in time keeping may make them easier among people. The point is, we are one nation, one people, one collective group, and Hashem helps us stay that way by reminding us that the land is our privilege and our responsibility, and the only way to keep the privilege of our land is by taking responsibility for its mitzvot which occurs when we, klal Yisrael, think of ourselves as a wonderfully single whole, a complete unit.

As we head into Behar-Bechukosai, let us remember that it is our bond as a community that is our strength and lets us continue to work hard to be present for one another.

Desecration and Curses (Emor)

 The final verses of Chapter 22 of Vayikra, at the heart of this week’s parashas Emor, seem, in some ways, to fold in upon themselves. “You shall not profane My holy name, that I may be sanctified in the midst of the Israelite people—I am the Lord who sanctifies you, Who brought you out of the land of Egypt to be your God, I the Lord” (Vayikra 22:32-33). It would seem obvious that in a place where God’s name was being profaned the ability to truly sanctify God’s name would be greatly hampered.

Vayikra 22:32, the commandment not to create a chillul Hashem, is one that is frequently discussed within the Jewish community. We try to be pointedly aware of when our behavior reflects badly on our people, and thus on God, and we teach our children to strive to be a Kiddush Hashem always. One might think that the latter should come first, that we would be instructed to strive to sanctify God’s name and, in this way, we will avoid profaning it. But Hashem knows human nature and that it is easier to prohibit bad behavior than to specifically encourage good behaviors. Think how many times parenting experts say that you should try to praise good behavior – like praising your children for not fighting – except that is actually a much harder task.

Indeed, God adds an extra incentive for this behavior, reminding the people that it is He who brought us out of slavery and, more importantly, that He sanctifies us. We must avoid chillul Hashem because we are sanctified constantly by our very existence outside of slavery, and our state of being constantly sanctified by Hashem and recognizing it is how Hashem is sanctified in the midst of the people. Our behavior must be a constant reflection of the fact that we are sanctified.

It is, however, also interesting to note that these verses are the conclusion of a perek of sacrificial dos and don’ts that are specifically directed to the kohanim: “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to Aaron and to his sons, that they shall separate themselves from the holy [sacrifices] of the children of Israel, which they sanctify to Me, so as not to desecrate My Holy Name” (22:1-2). And yet, it still has incredible implication for all of our people.

This chapter is followed by chapter 23, which is a complete listing of the festivals, of the ability of the Jewish people to sanctify time in honor of Hashem. Chapter 24, the final chapter of the parsha, begins with a discussion of the menorah and the showbreads, but then switches to the seemingly out of place story of the son of an Israelite woman (named Shulamit) and an Egyptian man. This son of an Israelite woman quarreled with an Israelite man, and the son of the Israelite woman ended up cursing God’s name. He was arrested and eventually stoned.

The Midrash and the commentaries provide the background to this story. The mother was a woman who was considered flirtatious and provocative. She was from the tribe of Dan, and, therefore, this man believed that he had a right to a place in that camp, but the Danites disagreed. They brought the argument to Moshe. When the court did not side in his favor, the son of the Israelite woman was so angry he cursed in God’s name.

Although certainly the man’s actions were his own, one cannot help but speculate what might have happened if he had been treated with more kindness by the Tribe of Dan (not to say that they were wrong, specifically). He should have been treated in a way that would have recognized his innate B’tzelem Elokim and connection to the Jewish people through his mother* – after all, along with all the Jews, he was protected from the plagues, traveled safely through the Sea of Reeds, received the Torah at Sinai, and survived by eating the miraculous manna in the Wilderness. All of these were Divine acts that kept him safe and sound – he could have come to be one who was able to sanctify Hashem’s name.

This is, of course, speculation. However, it brings us back to our more global understanding of avoiding chillul Hashem in order to allow kiddush Hashem (desecration/sanctification of God’s name). If we do not adhere to measures of kindness and moral behavior, we risk creating situations where God’s name is the opposite of sanctified. Everyday, within our homes and when in public, we have the opportunity, and sometimes the challenge, of these hand-in-hand mitzvot.

*As he was born prior to Mount Sinai and the giving of the Torah, he was subject to patrilineal descent rather than matralineal, which then became halacha.

Halfway Though the Year (Acharei Mos-Kedoshim)

 The beginning portion of the double Parsha Acharei Mos-Kedoshim presents the details of the Yom Kippur service. This discussion of Yom Kippur has only a scant mention of fasting (“afflicting oneself”) and refraining from work, but rather provides a detailed account of the actions required by the Kohein Gadol. For those not immediately familiar, this was the service most relate to for having two goats. One goat would be chosen by lot to be “for Hashem,” and the other would be cast off a mountain into the wilderness of Azazel. But the service itself was far more intricate. There were personal and communal sacrifices. The Kohein Gadol would enter the Holy of Holies, the only time of the year he could do so. He would bring burning incense into the covering of the Aron Kodesh. He would sprinkle the blood of different offerings onto the cover of the Aharon Kodesh, the Tent of meeting, and the altar. Clearly, there are many, many details – 27 verses of precise instructions.

The reading of Parshas Acharei Mos might actually have significant timing. In connection with the timeline of the Torah, these instructions are clearly listed as “And Hashem spoke to Moshe after the death of two sons of Aharon, who brought an {unauthorized} offering before Hashem and they died." Rashi makes it clear that the instructions that follow are so precise and detailed here because of the death of Aharon’s two sons. This is the when and the how one can come close to the Kedosh Kedoshim.

There is, however, something else to note about the timing. While of course we do not expect the Torah readings to align with the calendar, sometimes the way things “fall out” appear to be more than just coincidence. This parsha is read when we have months to go until the Yomim Noraim, but we are months past it as well.

Yom Kippur is a day of tremendous awe. Even still, after 2,000 years of exile, it is a day that makes a powerful impact on us. But human nature tends to let events, even those of great significance, fade from our memory. Many of us have faced small life-threatening incidents, like a car accident or even a terrifying tumble down the stairs. For the rest of the day we review the situation in our heads, catch our breath, and thank God that nothing really happened. The next day perhaps we drive a little more cautiously or look at the stairs a little more carefully. A week later, however, we are back to our old selves with only a fleeting thought to the powerful emotions that had enveloped us the week before.

We all try to keep the sense of kedusha and teshuva of Yom Kippur with us as we move through the year, and Hashem gave us the beautiful holiday of Sukkot to help as wrap those feeling in joy and simcha. But we are human, after all, and we move forward. On Pesach we are not focused on Teshuva, but rather on the magnificence of being Am Yisrael, and all that that means. Now, however, in the lengthy days of Iyar, halfway back to Tishrei, we come to parshas Acharei Mos-Kedoshim and a heady reminder of the importance of Teshuva and the significance of details in being holy. The parsha is a spiritual booster shot for the rest of the year.

Not Just a Burn (Tazria-Metzora)

 This week’s double parsha of Tazria-Mezora is, for most of us in the 21st century, rather hard to understand. Can our spiritual actions really cause us to become ill? We were all raised in the era of modern medicine – and while we know that stress and emotional strain can contribute to illness, most of us are comfortable with believing that the majority of illnesses are the result of a virus or a bacteria. In other words, we pretty much have all been raised on scientific medicine, which does not affect a person because of bad middos.

Vayikra 13, the second chapter contained in parshas Tazria, is a lengthy discourse of how to recognize a negah and how each type of case should be handled. On a general read, it can seem both detailed and repetitious. However, the variations, when looked at carefully, are both subtle and fascinating.

There is one particularly interesting verse, the start of a sub-chapter within the perek, that says: “When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn by fire, and the patch from the burn is a discoloration, either white streaked with red or white” (13:24). Up until now, the perek described strange marks upon the skin that, from a modern perspective, sound like dermatological ailments. The subgroup mentioned before the burn is a mark that remains after a boil, but even a boil could be thought of as a dermatological infection. A mark that remains after an area of the skin gets burned by fire, however, seems an odd contrast to naturally occurring ailments.

Perhaps the question one should ask is how the flesh was burned in the first place. One thought might be that this is a non-accusatory warning against a person trying to hide a negah. It is highly feasible to imagine that a person would not wish to go through the complicated process of checking a negah, which would be disruptive to life and perhaps to one’s reputation. In such a case, one might try to treat the blemish as we today treat a wart – by trying to burn it away. But the negah will remain because the spiritual healing has yet to be done.

The phrasing of Verse 13:24 might hold another subtle lesson for us. “When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn by fire…” Burns happen easily, and we assume that it is simply the result of carelessness. But in the world of Jewish thought, everything happens for a reason…hashgacha is an always active factor in our lives. Perhaps from the seemingly casual turn of phrase (“When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn”), there is a lesson that this incident may not be so casual. It is a reminder that nothing happens without a purpose and if one gets injured one should, perhaps, stop and assess one's spiritual actions as well as one's physical actions.

Vayikra in Lockdown (Vayikra)

Beyond the words "And Hashem called" or "And Hashem said," this week's parsha is completely without narrative. It is about karbanos, the offerings in the sanctuary. It is an incredibly detailed list of why a korben is brought, how it is brought, how one determines what needs to be brought, and what happens after it is brought. It is not the easiest parsha to just read, to say the least.

As we have seen so often repeated now in memes and tweets and posts, we all hope that, please Hasham, this bizzare twist in our lives is the gentle birthpangs of Moshiach. Perhaps we should really focus hard on these karbanos to understand what we will be able to do when the Third Temple stands once more in Jerusalem. But this is not the first time that the world has been in crisis and people have declared it “the moment;” alas, we are still here is galus. Therefore we must look to the parsha to teach us lessons for today as well as to learn the detailed laws of our past and our future.

Since we are not able to offer karbanos here in galus, what can we learn from Parshas Vayikra? The parsha describes five different categories of offerings, and then it discusses the variables of the sacrifices and the way in which they were offered. There was the Oleh - the elevation offering, the Mincha - the meal offering, the Shelamim - the peace offering, the Chatat - the sin offering, and the Asham - the guilt offering. Some of these offerings are voluntary, meaning one chooses to bring them. The ones that are mandatory, however, are, fascinatingly, connected to unintended transgressions or even the CONCERN that one might have unintentionally transgressed.

Sitting here, as I desperately seek a peaceful corner to grasp a few moments of my own, I think there is a lesson for all of us in lockdown. Whether the space we are in is large or small - the fact that we can’t leave is considerably challenging We need to constantly remind ourselves that most of the things that other people do that set us on edge are unintentional, and that the beautiful moments when we do a little more are voluntary. Shut in together, remembering these facts will help us appreciate each other a little more -- or at least maintain a level of shalom bayis. Now is a wonderful opportunity to work hard on not making our children karbanos, not sacrificing our shalom bayis for things our spouses don’t even know they are doing, and not offering up our own sanity. We must focus on gratitude and forgiveness.

On a more abstract note, it occurred to me that the word Vayikra (kuf reish aleph) is very close to Vayikarov (kuf reish beis), the words for calling and being close. The difference between how we need to treat each other during this time is hidden in the name of the parsha when we see our friends or neighbors we must be an aleph - a leading example, and we must call out to our friends and neighbors. We must not be “bad” bet, and come karov, close.

Wishing you all a healthy and inspirational Shabbas.