What’s the Shoo For? (Parshas Ki Tetze #3)

Shiluach Hakan, shooing away the mother bird, is just one of the numerous mitzvot detailed in this week’s parsha, Parshas Ki Tetze. The mitzvah itself seems simple, if not oddly mundane: “If you come upon a bird’s nest in the road, on any tree, or on the ground, and it has fledglings or eggs, if the mother is sitting on the fledglings or the eggs, you shall not take the mother on the young. You shall send away the mother and [then] you may take the young for yourself, in order that it should be good for you and you shall lengthen your days” (Devarim 22:6-7).

Many people cite the mitzvah of shiluach hakan as an example of the Torah’s compassionate treatment of animals, but then why take the fledglings or the eggs in the first place? Would it not be more compassionate to just keep walking? Perhaps, however, in this mitzvah we are able to witness the Torah’s overall combination of practicality and compassion. One’s practical, more animalistic self, comes upon a nest and thinks about food, about taking the easy prey, the sitting hen, and perhaps her young ones too. It is food, after all, and one has to have food. One’s compassionate, more spiritual self, thinks about all creatures being part of Hashem’s creation and would, perhaps, forego the whole idea. But in this one peculiar mitzvah, Hashem illustrates a path of compromise: Listen to your body - if you see a nest and want the eggs, you are probably hungry – but heed your soul – think about what you are about to consume, that this is part of the great creation and there is a compassionate way of behaving.

Nachmanides does not agree with the idea that shiluach hakan is a mitzvah about kindness to animals: “...The reason for the proscription is to teach us the trait of mercy and that we not become cruel. Since cruelty spreads in the soul of a man, as it is known with butchers that slaughter large oxen and donkeys, that they are 'people of blood,' 'slaughterers of men' [and] very cruel. And because of this they said (Kiddushin 82a), 'The best of butchers are the partners of Amalek.' And behold, these commandments with animals and birds are not mercy upon them, but [rather] decrees upon us, to guide us and to teach us the good character traits...” Nechama Leibowitz clarifies that “Nahmanides refuses to entertain the notion that the sending away of the mother bird is dictated by considerations of cruelty to animals. The precept is governed by purely educational considerations to inculcate kindness and compassion in our dealings with one another (Studies in Devarim, 219).

Whether the mitzvah of shiluach hakan is meant to teach the importance of kindness to animals or to bear a lesson to us about treating one another properly, it is a bit of a strange mitzvah, particularly in the modern age. One might question how frequently it would actually happen that a person would be walking by the road, see a bird's nest, and think to take the bird's young. Of course, for many generations we were an agrarian society and we lived in a far more ecologically diverse area, but still, one would probably have to be pretty hungry to look at a random nest and think “meal!” The fact of the matter stands, however, by the understanding that the Torah is relevant in every time and every place, so there must be some other – deeper – way to understand the mitzvah of shiluach hakan.

If we are not talking about a real bird (although the actual bird scenario is one that does happen and should be literally applied), but rather the idea of a bird and its nest, then the lesson of compassion in our dealings with others is truly transferable. It is interesting to note that this week’s parsha begins with the words ki tetze, when you go out. And while the phrase is referring to the verse "When you go out to war against your enemies...", there is an indefiniteness to the use of the word ki, when. It is not going to happen to every one, but when it does, be prepared. Shiluach hakan is very much of a “when you go out” mitzvah. It is not something that will definitely happen, and it is not something that one can create a scenario to make happen. Indeed, the pasuk describing the mitzvah emphasizes that the nest would be something that one comes upon. So too, in our every day lives many of us will not be in a position to have to choose a combination of seeming cruelty to effectively be both practical and compassionate.

Knowing that the Torah very much believes that "words can kill," perhaps we have the opportunity to understand this mitzvah differently. It is all too easy in the desire to rebuke or castigate individuals to condemn entire groups of people But if one thinks of the larger community as the mother and the individuals as the fledglings, then perhaps we have a modern means of applying the lessons of intuitive compassion inherent in shiluach hakan.

Two Witnesses (Shofteim #2)

Reading through Parshas Shoftim, one might notice that the requirement of two witnesses in a court case was instructed in two separate places. It is described in Devarim 17:6-7 and 19:15.” The witness requirement – two appropriate people who not only saw an act happen but tried to prevent it by warning the perpetrator of the consequences of his actions - is a foundation point of the Jewish legal system. Its repetition in the parsha whose most famous pasuk is “Justice, Justice shall you pursue” (16:20) reinforces its importance.

Not living in a situation where the Torah legal system can be applied, one might wonder at what lessons can be taken from this concept of witnesses. Perhaps first and foremost is that the hoped for role of the witnesses is to prevent the transgression in the first place. This is the significance of being part of a community because when one is part of a community ones’ friends and neighbors will help one stay on the right path. More importantly, perhaps, is a lesson that one should not surround oneself with patsies who agree to one’s every action but that one should learn to heed naysayers as well, lest one come to be too arrogant to believe their own fallibility and ignore the warnings of misdeeds when it matters most.

Of course, this is based on the assumption that people want to stay on a good path, that crimes happen as a result of impulse and/or circumstance and not a specifically chosen desire to do evil. Hashem quite obviously understood that such people as these do exist, and that they may try to “play” the law; Thus the warning against the consequence of being a false witness: “If a man who testified is a false witness, if he has testified falsely against his fellow, you shall do to him as he schemed to do to his fellow. Thus you will sweep out evil from your midst” (19:18-19). Being part of a community, a good community, helps keep people from wicked ways, and using wicked ways to undermine the community’s system of justice cannot be permitted.

The great sages quoted in Pirkei Avot speak of the importance of being amongst others. Joshua ben P’rachia advices “Make for yourself a rav, acquire for yourself a companion, and judge all men favorably” (1:6), and the great Sage Hillel instructs: “Do not separate yourself from the community” (2:4). We live in a time when independence and individuality is heralded as a prime value, but the assertion of one’s individual rights must always be balanced by the needs of sustaining the greater community, which protects each of its individual members.

The Actions of Others (Eikev #3)

It would be lovely to live in a world where people did not judge one another, where the way one dresses, or the neighborhood one lives in, or the family into which one was born did not have any impact on what someone else thought of them. It would be wonderful if we lived in a world where people were patient enough to listen to the whole of a story, from all perspectives, before deciding who is right and who is wrong, or more drastically, who is righteous and who is wicked. Alas, until we enter the promised future of messianic times when the "wolf will dwell with the lamb" (Isaiah 11:6), we must focus on recognizing this predisposition to judgementalness and learning what purpose it can serve in ourselves. For this, we can turn to this week's parsha, Parshas Eikev

About to send B'nei Yisrael to conquer the promised land, Moshe warns the people: "And when the Lord your God has thrust them from your path say not to yourselves,'the Lord has enabled us to possess this land because of our virtues,' it is rather because of the wickedness of those nations who the Lord is dispossessing before you " (Devarim 9:4). The important part of this pasuk is not that the people of the land were wicked, but that the people of Klal Yisrael should not see the punishment - or the reward, for that matter - of others as a reflection on themselves. They were destroyed for their wickedness, therefore, we are righteous? No, quite the contrary. Seeing the consequences doled out to others should be a warning, a cause for questioning - if we are to have this land, what must we do to avoid such a fate?

Moshe spoke these words to Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness, but it can certainly apply to interpersonal interactions in any era. When someone acts in a way that upsets you, do not speak ill of them or berate them, rather take a few moments and assess whether you act in a similar way and if this is a character trait that you yourself can improve on. 

Interestingly, the next verse sounds almost verbatim to 9:4. "It is not because of your virtues and your rectitude that you will be able to possess their country; but it is because of their wickedness that the Lord your God is dispossessing those nations before you, and in order to fulfill the oath that the Lord made to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (9:5). No actions occur outside the vacuum of history and concurrent life. When politics do not go your way, recognize and acknowledge that the long term plan is very long and extremely well hidden in front of our faces. Someone might be elected today due to a cause that began a hundred years ago or for an effect in an as-yet-unknown future. When that person that cut you off speeds into traffic and get pulls over, do not take it as a time to gloat. Maybe he was late for a job interview or maybe his being pulled over saved him from an accident. The ticket is punishment for his actions not a reward for anything you did. Perhaps you merely witnessed these events as an opportunity for you to become a more conscientious driver. 

In case the message was missed, the text does it again! "Know, then, that it is not for any virtue of yours that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff necked people” (9:6). Because human nature likes to gloat, one should never settle on one’s high-horse and assume their own virtues - that their right is the only way. In fact, Moshe immediately reminds Bnei Yisrael just how prone to misdeeds they are when he says: “Remember, never forget, how you provoked the Lord your God to anger in the wilderness” (9:7). 

We are in a time of supreme judgementalness. Our society has become a hot-pot of assumptions about what other people are thinking, wanting, doing… Moshe’s triple warning toward self-reflection is thus particularly pertinent for us to contemplate. God will dole out the consequences as needed, our job is simply to work on being our best selves as ovdei Hashem. 

Statues (Va'Eschanan #3)

In this week's parsha, Parshas Va’eschanan, we read Moshe's recitation of the Aseres Hadibros, the Ten Commandments. Just as when they are first recorded in Sefer Shemos, hereto one cannot help but sense the majesty and import of these first fundamental mitzvot. While most of the Aseres Hadibros are easily understood well across the spectrum of time and space, the Second Commandment can seem a bit archaic to those of us in the 21st century: "You shall not make for yourself a sculptured image, any likeness of what is in the heavens above, or on the earth below, or in the waters beneath the earth" (Devarim 5:8). The implication of the prohibition is that this is connected to avodah zarah, idol worship, because the commandment continues: “You shall not bow down to them or serve them. For I, the Lord your God, am an impassioned God, visiting the guilt of the parents upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generations of those who reject Me, but showing kindness to the thousandth generation of those who love Me and keep My commandments” (5:9-10).

Upon first reading, one might easily scoff at the foolishness of making a statue for worship. It is easy to forget that we benefit from the prayers of the Anshei Knessesst Hagedola, who prayed that the urge for idol worship would be removed from the people. Deeming ourselves advanced and educated, we do not question that the statuary in our modern society are either artistic creations or the commissioned work of artisans designed to commemorate and/or communicate. 

Statues are powerless, obviously - and, yet, such a belief may be short-sighted. Rioters pulling down public statues are wrong for their brazen acts of destruction, for their lack of civil civic behaviour, and for their desire to ferment chaos and rewrite reality how they see it. However, perhaps their actions are a means of helping us realize that while we may not believe these statues are gods, we should not believe that graven images have no power.

The Aseres Hadibros is not the only place in Parshas Va’eschanan where the making of statues is prohibited. Moshe says to the people, "And you shall watch yourselves very well, for you did not see any images on the day that the Lord spoke to you at Horeb from the midst of the fire. Lest you become corrupt and make for yourselves a graven image, the representation of any form, the likeness of male or female" (4:15-16). - Here, Moshe is reminding the people that the greatest moment in their history cannot be encapsulated in one specific form. He is, in a way, instructing them that they cannot, with their mortal hands, capture the momentuous occasion of God giving them the Torah. It has already been recorded in its best form in the Torah itself. 

The perek continues with several similar prohibitions, such as not looking to the heavens and finding stars and celestrial objects to worship. One might easily question whether the prohibition of creating graven images was meant only for images which one intended to worship or includes images that are artistic. In truth this is a far larger topic, but there is room for leniency as long as, according to the Ba’al Ha’Turim’s understanding, one makes the form imperfect and incomplete (missing a finger, bust of a head, etc).

It is interesting to note that the prohibition of creating graven images is repeated one more time in this same perek. After telling them that he was to die, Moshe says: "Beware, lest you forget the covenant of the Lord your God, which He made with you, and make for yourselves a graven image, the likeness of anything, which the Lord your God has forbidden you” (4:23). This is not simply a repetition. This is significant. Moshe knows how much the people depend on him, how much faith they have put in him as a means of connecting to Hashem. He does not want a repeat of the cheit haegel.

But what if, one might ask, they just wanted to create something to memorialize him, a way to try to capture his personage for future generations? This is the question we can relate to, and it can be answered with another question - Can a statue capture a man in his full essence or fully articulate the values of a society? Essentially, the answer is no. At the time of their commissioning, most of the statue that are now at the heart of the controversy were created with the idea of capturing the essence of something society felt was important. Time changed, history was reinterpreted, a new generation decided that those values were wrong and these remnants of the past could and should be destroyed. 

Imagine if a statue of Moshe had been made. Beyond the risk, noted by many mefarshim as the reason we do not even know where he is buried, that it would come to be worshipped in its own right, such a statue would forever limit our ability to relate to him beyond that image. Our understanding of Moshe and his role in bringing us the Torah must be understandable for every generation, not a limited image. 

At the end of the Second Commandment, Hashem states: “I, the Lord your God, am an impassioned God, visiting the guilt of the parents upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generations of those who reject Me, but showing kindness to the thousandth generation of those who love Me and keep My commandments” (5:9-10). Ultimately, what is right and what is wrong in our times and in times past and in the future  is up to God to decide, for his understanding of time and place is truly limitless. 

How Generations Change (Devarim #3)

It is interesting to note that when Moshe begins his final address to Klal Yisrael, a review of all that they have experienced as a nation, he does not begin with leaving Egypt, crossing the Sea, or even receiving the Torah at Sinai. Instead, he begins with a listing of their journeys and the setting up of a system of civil courts. The only laws that appear to be repeated in Parshas Devarim are commandments meant to ensure impartiality in the judicial system. While the parsha speaks of several occurrences in the wilderness, the two most prominent seem to be the incident of the scouts and the land allocation of Reuvain, Gad, and half of Menashe. Thus it is worth wondering at Moshe’s choice of these the two main narratives for the opening parsha of Sefer Devarim.

Although both of these stories are recorded in Sefer Bamidar and read just a few weeks before Parshas Devarim, they occurred years - actually decades - apart. They are, in truth, opposites: the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. When the scouts returned from the Promised Land and put fear in the hearts of the nation, that was the end of the first era of Klal Yisrael’s journey. The raw energy of emergence, of change, of becoming a nation at Sinai, here proved itself unsustainable as the driving force of this nation. Even after all of the blatant miracles and God’s forgiveness after the Golden Calf, the people demonstrated an inherent inability to truly trust Hashem or believe in their own worthiness.

The generation that saw “explosive” miracles, that sang the great Shira at the Yam Suf, blunted their own spiritual fire. Certainly, part of this came from their having begun as slaves, and possibly some of it was because the actual impact of each of their experiences had been so majestically miraculous.

Moshe was able to grant the request of Reuvain and Gad because this generation was different from their fathers’ generation. They knew of the great and wonderous miracles, but the miracles in their own lives – while still spectacular to us today – were both more subtle and more constant.  When we today think about the generation of the wilderness, we think of how wonderous it must have been to have been close to active miracles, to have witnessed a cloud descending on the Tent of Meeting or experienced life fully provided for by Hashem (manna, water from Miriam’s well, ever-lasting clothing…). But for that generation, raised since their youth surrounded by these active miracles, it must have been difficult to even perceive them as miraculous – this was just life. Hashem was a tangible presence in their lives – providing cause and effect, consequences such as Korach being swallowed by the earth. And even though their life was “easy,” they were ready to go forward and put in the necessary work and effort.

The granting of the land in response to the request from Reuvain and Gad demonstrated the difference of this second generation to that of their elders. Their request was not a demand, as, it is now explained, had been the idea to send the scouts. Indeed, according to numerous commentators, when Moshe says: V’tikravoon eyli koolchem, and you gathered around me all of you, he is subtly describing how the generation that came from Egypt had forced the idea of the scouts upon him, how they were impatient and demanding. The second generation, however, was willing to put their own effort into building their towns and fighting beside their brethren. They represented how Klal Yisrael as a whole was ready to begin the last stage of their journey to enter the Promised Land – ready to fight and to work and, most importantly, to trust in Hashem.

Thousands of years later, we reside here in galus, and we yearn for redemption. We sigh and we hope and we wonder – and yes, I think it is a thought that crosses everyone’s mind once in a while – we wonder why we do not have such open miracles as those of our ancestors. We imagine how much easier it would be to have emunah shelaima – complete faith – if we just witnessed an open miracle or two. And we are not asking for Yam Suf; we would be satisfied with Miram’s well or heaven-sent manna. But perhaps Moshe opened his address this way to Klal Yisrael because he was not speaking only to the people before him, but to the generations upon generations to come. Open miracles are not the answer, they do not build a strong core of bitachon. In order to prepare for the conclusion of our own journey, we need to learn to accept the constant miracles that surround us with gratitude, put our trust in Hashem, and be ever-ready to work on moving forward.

A brief note of thanks and a dedication:

Parshas Devarim marks the anniversary of my writing Parsha posts. I have now completed two years, although I cannot say that I have managed every week in either year (thank you Corona!)

This Personal Parsha Prose was written on Friday, 3 Av 5780, the yahrtzeit of my Great-Grandfather Elias Gartel, l’ilyui neshama Eliyahu ben Yitzchak Halevi.

Underlying the Action (Matos)

The narrative of the Shevatim of Reuvain and Gad seeking land east of the Jordan River is fascinating in its many nuances. Indeed, one of the most popular divrei Torah on this section comments on the subtle way Moshe corrected the petitioners’ emphasis on their sheep to remind them of the importance of placing the needs of their families first.

Reading through this narrative, it is interesting to note that, in responding to their request, Moshe refers – somewhat lengthily - directly to the actions of the scouts. In fact, he lays out the story in cold hard facts, making certain that they understand that this was the cause of the death of a generation and their extensive time in the wilderness. He concludes by challenging them: "And now you, a breed of sinful men, have replaced your fathers, to add still further wrath against Israel. If you turn away from Him and He abandons them once more in the wilderness, you will bring calamity upon all this people" (32:15).

Jewish tradition seems to have a strong ideology against holding one's familial background against them - a convert is not to be asked about their background, baalei teshuva should not be inconsiderately reminded of their past lives - so is not it unfair for Moshe to make such a seemingly strong accusation?

One could certainly get into psycho-analyzing Moshe’s reaction. He is old and knows he is about to be "gathered unto his fathers," so the idea of anything keeping the people out of the Promised Land creates a particularly strong reaction from him. Indeed, he might even have felt quietly resentful of the actions that seemed to have determined that his death would be in the wilderness (whereas 40 years earlier he would have led them into the Promised Land).

The Reubenites and the Gadites hear his message and immediately change the presentation of their request to one that attaches them to the Promised Land and their fellow tribes by including themselves in the upcoming war. It is also revised to place their families ahead of their flocks. The plan is modified to include half of Menasha, and it is approved.

This incident has many potential lessons. For those of us living in these times, perhaps the most poignant is to remember how each action we take is about more than just ourselves and our personal needs. We have to always remember how our actions, be they individual or group, might affect the entire People of Israel. Reuven and Gad wanted the land, they saw how they could use the expanse of grazing land for their cattle and sheep. Theirs was a legitimate, purposeful desire, but they neglected to stop and think about how their request might be understood by the rest of the nation. Every day, we go out into the world as individuals. We strive to make a living, to run our homes and families, to accomplish our goals, and so it is very easy to think only of how our actions might affect ourselves or those immediately around us. The truth, however, is that we must constantly be asking ourselves about the greater impact of our actions. Are we influencing someone else in a negative way? Are we making a Kiddush Hashem? Might we be doing something that will cause a negative reaction for Klal Yisrael as a whole? Moshe recounted the story of the spies to remind Reuvain and Gad how the wrong attitude of a few became contagious and hurt the people as a whole, and the while their intended actions may seem innocuous, they needed to make certain that their attitude was properly aligned. It is a lesson that is pertinent to every generation.

Channelling Zealotry (Pinchus)

Every few years, the world seems to grow angry. Protests and fighting seem to increase. It would seem that now is the perfect time for the world to examine the parsha of Pinchas, which begins with a declaration straight from God that Pinchus’ actions, detailed at the end of the previous parsha, were righteous.  One might sum Pinchas up by saying: Once there was a man named Pinchas who slew two people and received the praise of God because he did so out of zealotry to defend God’s honor and the rightfulness of the Children of Israel. In this day and age, however, perhaps that narrative should include a line that says: Don’t try this at home!

Upon first reading the narrative of Pinchas, one comes away with a belief that Pinchas’s action, which was to throw a spear at Zimri and Cosbi in an act of acute immoral behavior, was accepted by all as praiseworthy. However, as noted by numerous commentators, the very fact that God had to “step forward,” so to speak, and pronounce Pinchas’ actions as right and proper is an indication that many people believed that he was culpable for murder, that he did wrong by slaying a prince (Zimri).  Certainly, Pinchas immediately explained his actions, and certainly there were many people who supported him and understood why he did what he did. The fact that God spoke up for him is a reminder of how precarious it is for anyone to assume that their actions are righteous, that their zealotry is pure. Only by God specifying that it was indeed true that Pinchas had intent only for God’s honor are we assured of this fact.

We live in an era without overt Divine intervention – meaning in ways such as Hashem speaking to us. We can only make assumptions of understanding how Hashem runs the world, and therefore we cannot even hope to be accurate by announcing that any particular behaviour is the reason for current situations. We many want to be like Pinchus, but we do not have the clarity of righteousness that Pinchus had. Therefore, we have to be careful in how we manage the zealotry of our anger. Of course, as members of a modern society we would never think of literally killing another person. Instead, we destroy them with words, with posts that cut apart their lives.

Pinchas was unique in that he was able to harness his zealotry, his fiery passion, to focus completely on God and honoring God. The honest truth is that most of the time people speak in righteous indignation, about any subject, there is a piece of them, maybe even a very, very small piece, that is speaking up for their own honor. Perhaps the small voice is to be recognized by the crowd of like-minded thinkers, or perhaps it is to be acknowledged for the cleverness of the remark or the astuteness of the observation, or perhaps even just to help shape the world into the way in which the speaker truly believes it is meant to be. But it is rare that the goal is be a continuation of God’s will, as was Pinchas’.

This does not mean that we should hide our beliefs or not stand up for what is right. There is actually an incredible juxtaposition in how to handle different situations when one reads forward in the parsha and comes to the narrative of the daughters of Tzlephchad. As the rules were being laid out for the division of the Land of Israel, somewhat based on the numbers accounted for in a new census, the daughters of Tzlephchad stepped forward and stated that as they had no brothers, they should, by right, inherit the portion that would have been their dead fathers. Moshe took their case to Hashem, who agreed with the five sisters. It is a segue into the laws of inheritance, but it also shows that sometimes passion that is harnessed into rational discussion can bring about change through more structured channels.

The daughters of Tzelaphchad presented a “landmark” case, shifting the laws of inheritance. One could say they took a chance of being rejected. One could argue that orderly channels are often clogged and unavailable. These points are true, in the modern world, and so what we must aim for is to find a middle ground. Hashem gave humankind the Torah, and He set the Jewish people with the task of being a light unto the nations. It is up to us to maintain those laws, to build a Torah society – but to do this we must learn to refrain from tainted zealotry and to include passionate righteousness in our quest to bring holiness to the world.