The Spirituality of Seeing

 

“Open your eyes — the Divine is right here, in front of you.” The Kotzker Rebbe

“See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse.” (Deuteronomy 11:26)

Parashat “Ekev,” of two weeks ago astressed the importance of hearing and listening,

as evidenced by the repetitive use of the verb “shema” (hear, listen). In Last week's Parashah,

“Re’eh,” (see), Moshe is urging the Yisraelites to choose between blessing and curse,

"see" the consequences of loyalty or disobedienc to G-d while emphasizing the significance

of seeing as a mode of recognizing G-d in our daily choices.

Am Yisrael, as both Rash”i and Ramba”n suggest, is called here, not just to hear but to see clearly the moral alternatives before them. Re’eh is an order to open one’s eyes, perceive clearly and choose blessing over curse. Ramba”n empahsizes that “seeing,” in this context, is not just with the eyes, but with the mind’s eye - an act of deep spiritual awareness. It emphasizes perception, awareness and a conscious choice.

Rash”i further points out that the verse begins with the singular “Re’eh” (see) but continues with the plural “lifneichem” (before you [plural]). Rash”i reads Re’eh as a deeply personal summons: “See this as if it is directed to you alone, yet know that your choices shape the fate of all Israel.” In other words, Rash”i asserts that though it teaches each individual to see and understand, the consequences apply to the whole community. It encompasses both personal and collective responsibility.

Sforno suggests that the Torah could have said “Shema” (hear), as it does in Shema Yisrael (“Hear, oh Yisrael”). Instead, it chooses the word “Re’eh” suggesting not merely passive listening but active vision without distortion - a responsibility to look ahead, recognize consequences, and internalize Torah values.

Ramba”n also offers a different interpretation for the choice of “Re’eh” rather than “Shema”.  He explains that whereas to hear something is indirect and can, thus, be doubted, to see something is direct and undeniable.

The decree “Re’eh”  brings to mind the occasion of receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. There, we are told that Am Yisrael “saw the sounds” (Exodus 20:15) which Jewish scholars found to be a most striking and paradoxical image. 

Rash”i, for instance, citing Mekhilta de-Rabbi Yishmael explains that the People saw what is normally heard. That experience was so powerful and overwhelming that the boundaries between the senses collapsed. That, in turn, caused their spiritual perception to be elevated to the level that they could apprehend Divine communication with absolute clarity.

For Hasidic thinkers such as Sfat Emet, “seeing,” as opposed to “hearing” symbolizes the transformation of faith (emunah, usually associated with hearing) into knowledge (da’at, associated with seeing).

Lord Rabbi Sacks also addresses the theme of “hearing” vs. “seeing.” In his commentary on the Parashah, Sacks states, “On the face of it, Moshe is appealing to the eye, not the ear. However, if we examine the role of sight in Judaism, we discover something strange. Often, when the Torah seems to be using a verb or metaphor for sight, it is actually referring to something not seen at all but rather heard. To reinforce his point, Sacks cites two examples from the Tana”ch, mainly the prophets, one from Isaiah, the other from Jeremiah.

Isaiah 1:2 opens, “The vision concerning Judah and Jerusalem that Isaiah son of Amos saw during the reigns of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah: Hear, O Heavens! Listen, O earth.” As Sacks correctly states, the verse contains no visual imagery. “What Isaiah ‘sees’ is a call, sounds, speech, a proclamation, not a sight or scene or symbol.” The key verbs are “hearing” and “listening,” in the opening verses of the book of Isaiah. In Jeremiah, 1:11-12, claims Sacks, the prophet  “‘sees’ but G-d teaches him to listen.”

My article on parashat “Ekev” highlighted the importance of hearing and listening. I shared Sacks’s brilliant commentary on the motif of what he coined the “Spirituality of Listening.”  I firmly believe that it is appropriate to name one of the themes of last week’s parasha as  “The Spirituality of Seeing.” 

“Re’eh” is about cultivating a vision- personal, ethical, and divine. It extends to transcending the mundane in our lives to actively looking and seeing G-d in the world and in others, fostering a clear vision of truth and goodness, and cultivating a deeper connection to the Divine, all in order to witness the profound spiritual reality of a blessing and a curse.

Kedoshim - The Equality of Holiness

 

“Speak to the Whole Yisraelite Community. Say: ‘Be holy, for I am holy; I, the Lord your G-d,’” Leviticus 19:1-2

 

These verses which open Kedoshim, this week’s Torah portion, convey an unequivocal directive which states that all members of Am Yisrael belong to the level of holiness. Every member of the community can equally reach it, if only they wish.

“What we witness here asserts Rabbi Sacks, ZT”L, is the radical democratization of holiness. Priesthood, in the ancient world, was not exclusive to Am Yisrael, as the Torah shares with us on several occasions. Whereas in other societies, it was reserved to the elite, in this parashah, according to Sacks, “for the first time, we find a code of holiness directed to the People as a whole.” Religion is no longer hierarchical as was prevalent in the idolatrous ancient world.

The designation of Am Yisrael as a “holy nation” was mentioned by G-d already in Exodus 19:5-6. There He says, “And now, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, then you will be a special possession among the peoples, even among all earth.”  In Kedoshim, however, that proclamation has become an order. Each member of the community is formally sanctioned and commanded to “be holy,” to fulfill the vocation that G-d destined for them in Exodus.

What follows this directive is a long list of laws and rituals which include some of those chronicled in the Ten Commandments. These, naturally, are aimed at guiding and helping every Yisraelite live a life of holiness.

Our sages differ on the course of reaching “holiness.”  While Ramba”m and Rash”i believe that it can be achieved only by performing the mitzvot (commandments), Ramba”n asserts that it can be obtained by abstaining from an opulent way of life. According to Ohr Ha’Chaim, the only way to attain it is through enduring harsh experiences. Whatever the means all three sources (and many others) suggest, they are all based on the same premise of “holiness” that is expected of Am Yisrael.

Rebbi Berel Wein offers a different perspective at viewing this parashah. According to him,  “Kedoshim is not exclusively meant to represent holiness in the common usage of the word.” Those who are well versed in the Hebrew language would know that the root K,D,SH could also suggest dedication or devotion, in this case, to G-d and to the covenant that was entered between Him and Am Yisrael at Mount Sinai.

As our sages point out, some of the mitzvot which constitute that covenant are what Rabbi Sacks terms as “chok, ‘a statute,’ often understood as a law that has no reason, or at least none that we can understand.”  Adhering to and performing such commandments is a confirmation of our devotion and ongoing faith in G-d. “This is a cardinal principle in the relationship between G-d and us,” explains Rabbi Mendi Kaminker. “We must perform Mitzvot out of devotion and obedience to G-d even if we do not grasp them because this is His will.” He further elaborates that when it comes to mitzvot which we do understand, we should not observe merely because we know their underlying reason, but rather aspire to reach the G-dly, the holy component which is above our rationale.

 

Rabbi Berel Wein further suggests that in G-d’s relations with Am Yisrael, His dedication and devotion is reciprocal. “The Lord, Himself,” proposes Wein, “so to speak, describes His own Being as being not only holy but also being dedicated - dedicated to fulfill His Will,” to educate the world and teach His values system and code of ethics, “through the People of Yisrael, their behavior, events and destiny.”

Chaz”l, also comment on these verses. Their interpretation stems from the words, “for I am holy: I, the Lord, your G-d.” Since the purpose of performing the mitzvot, they believe, is to purge and sanctify us, we, in turn, sanctify G-d. What Chaza”l are teaching us is that, apparently, G-d’s holiness depends on that of Am Yisrael (Torat Ha’Kohanim Kedoshim, 1).

Whichever way we understand these verses, they all lead, in my view, to the conclusion and the lesson that is derived from Rabbi Sacks’s lucid essay on the parashah. His commentary brings to light the revolutionary notion that holiness is not reserved to a selected few, as was the custom in the ancient world. Each member of Am Yisrael, not only has the potential to be holy but, also, has the duty to strive to achieve holiness. As representatives of the one and only G-d, their holiness will directly affect the presence of His level of holiness in the world.

Is Being a Stiff-Necked People Bad?

 

   

“And G-d said to Moses, I have seen this people and indeed it is a stiff-necked people!” Exodus 32:9

There are a few themes in last week’s Parashah, “Ki Tisa.” One of them dwells on the grave and calamitous episode of the “golden calf.” In His rage at Am Yisrael, G-d promises to punish it for this sordid affair. “Now therefore,” He tells Moshe, “let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them, and I may consume them. And I will make of you a great nation” (Exodus 32:10). Am Yisrael, according to G-d, clings to idolatry and are not ready to commit themselves to the covenant they entered with G-d.

Moshe tries to soothe G-d’s anger and pleads with Him to forgive Am Yisrael. “Lord,” he said, “if I have found favour in your eyes, then let the Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, forgive our wickedness and our sin and take us as your inheritance" (Exodus 34:8-9).

Rabbi Sacks, ZT”L, suggests that Moshe’s words may sound somewhat odd. Moshe cites as a reason for G-d remaining with the Yisraelites the very trait that G-d had previously given for wishing to abandon them.

 In other words, in both quotes, the term “stiff-necked” is used to portray Am Yisrael. In both, this quality is used as an excuse for two opposing goals. How is it possible that Moshe raises specifically the stubbornness of the Yisraelites, their obstinacy as a rationale for the resumption of G-d’s presence in their midst?

Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, also known as the “Piasetzno Rabbi” (1889-1943) was, likewise, bewildered by the same issue. He offers his own understanding of the use of the term. In his view, being “stiff-necked” is one of the greatest qualities one could possess. In his view, anyone who is not “stiff-necked” is fickle and insecure. …No one knows what the outcome might be when, G-d forbid, that person will not be able to withstand a calamitous trial (which relates to the decision to abandon the Jewish faith). On the other hand, per the Piasetzno Rabbi, the stiff-necked individual is an honest person. If that person decides to worship G-d, one can rest assure that he would adhere to his decision. The more "stiff-necked" he is, the more likely he will withstand that same trial (Aish Kodesh, Parashat Noah).

Being “stiff-necked” means being stubborn. It also means being dedicated and committed to a certain cause. To be “stiff-necked” means that one can meet their obligations and duties against all odds. When the pressure rises and the burden gets heavier, one can rely on a stiff-necked person to do what he is expected to do.

On the other hand, as the Piasetzno Rabbi contends, one who is not “stiff-necked” is like a leaf blown away in the wind. One day, he says that he will be by your side, but what will happen, asks the Rabbi, if on the following day, he faces hardships that he himself cannot handle? Moshe’s argument, asserts the Rabbi, was as thus: “Yes, Am Yisrael is a stiff-necked nation. They stubbornly cling to idolatry. However, you, G-d should know that when they fully commit themselves to you, they will never leave you. Their commitment to the Covenant is absolute.” In other words, explains Zecharia Robof, in his article, “A Stiff-Necked Nation in Times of Crisis,” no matter how much the Children of Yisrael suffer, their stubbornness means that they will never give up on their love for you. Now, they are “stiff-necked” in their rebelliousness, but the day will come when they will be, likewise, “stiff-necked” in their loyalty. The gentiles will order them to convert, but they will refuse. They will suffer humiliations, persecutions and torture because of their beliefs, yet they will continue to adhere to the Covenant that their forefathers undertook with G-d..

Am Yisrael and the Jewish People, as history has shown, has, on more than one occasion, reverted to the old ways of their ancestors in the Sinai desert. Yet as hard as it has been for them to withstand the temptation of idolatry and the absence of a physical image of G-d, it has been just as hard, if not harder, for them to forsake their ancestral Covenant with G-d. In the words of R.Isaac ben Redifa who said them in the name of R.Ami, “you might think that this [“stiff-necked”] is a negative attribute, but in fact, it is praiseworthy, for it means: ‘Either be a Jew or prepare to be hanged’” (Beitza 25b;Shemot Rabbah 42:9).

Jewish survival throughout history, despite the catastrophes that befell our People, is the result of two important factors. One is our insistence to maintain our “stiff-necked” attribute when it comes to the desire of nations, by way of pogroms, crusades, Inquisition or any other attempt to annihilate our faith. The second is the everlasting promise that has accompanied Am Yisrael on our journey through the ages, “The Eternal of Yisrael shall never lie.”

Ner Tamid (Perpetual Light)

 

                                      “Command the Yisraelites to bring you clear oil of pressed olives for the                                             illumination of the perpetual light.”  - Exodus 27:2

Throughout history and across cultures, the notion of Light is one of the most universal and central symbols. Unlike darkness, which is associated with evil, suffering and the unknown, Light, conveys goodness, hope and spirituality.

The concept of Light runs like a golden thread in Judaism, its tradition and commandments and captures an immense role and significance in our Jewish culture. It is almost impossible to fathom Judaism without the notion of Light and candles which are used for various functions such as holy days celebrations and as commemoration and other special occasions.

G-d’s directive regarding Ner Tamid, above, was given to Moshe as part of the commandment to construct the Tabernacle, the portable earthly dwelling of G-d which was used by Am Yisrael throughout their wanderings in the desert until the conquest of Canaan. The instructions to assemble the Tabernacle such as its measurements, listing the vessels and their roles, the garb of the priests or the performance of the rituals, also include detailed guidelines surrounding the precepts and affiliated role and purpose of Ner Tamid (Leviticus 6:5-6).

Upon the erection of Solomon’s Temple, all rituals and religious duties, including those surrounding Ner Tamid, were relocated and placed in it. After the destruction of the Temple, the tradition of Ner Tamid was shifted to the synagogue where it is placed in front of Aron haKodesh, Ark of the Holy, where the Torah scrolls are kept.

The theme of Light can be spotted in various places along our Tana”ch and symbolizes different quality. For instance, the term is an important component of the constitutive and well-known idiomatic phrases concerning our calling as a People. Our destiny to be a “Light unto the Nations” is proclaimed by the prophet Isaiah (42:6). The role that G-d has fated for us, as a “Nation of Priests,” according to Isaiah, was to represent Him to the world by our meritorious lifestyle and by becoming a beau ideal to humanity.

For King Solomon, though, Light symbolizes the Spirit of Man as he suggests in Proverbs 20:27: “The human spirit is the lamp of G-d that sheds light on one’s inmost being.” For others, such as Erica Brown, the light of the Ner Tamid is a reminder of “the flame that burned but did not consume the burning bush where Moses received his calling.” (“The perpetual flame: Thoughts on Parashat Tzav”. The Torah Leadership, March 30, 2023).

The absence of Light, on the other hand, is used as a form of punishment, in our Jewish scriptures. In the Babylonian Talmud, Megillah tractate, for instance, Rabbi Yosi (1st century) quotes one of the curses that Moshe warned Am Yisrael against, lest they move away from their Covenant with G-d, “At midday you will grope about like a blind person in the dark” (Deuteronomy 28:29). In its literal meaning, this curse denotes that even at noon, when it is expected to be light, darkness shall prevail.

Rabbi Yossi, however, recounts the following story which helps us understand this verse differently and in a more positive, uplifting and optimistic manner. As he was leaving the prayer house, one evening, shares with us Rabbi Yosi, he met a blind man. The blind man held a burning torch which spread a bright light.

Rather surprised, Rabbi Yosi stopped and asked the man for the purpose of holding the torch. After all, if the man is blind, then day and night should look the same as far as his blindness was concerned.

The blind man explained that so long as he was holding the burning torch, people could see him and save him from getting hurt. The torch, asserted the blind and wise man, was not to show him the way, but rather to ensure that others noticed him and came to his rescue. For him the burning flame of the torch provided Faith and Trust. It was a holy fire.

It is this kind of “holy fires” that Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ZT”L is referring to in his column in The Times, “Somehow faith outlives every attempt to destroy it. Its symbol is not the fierce fire that burned synagogues and sacred scrolls and murdered lives. It is the fragile flame we, together with our children and grandchildren, light in our homes, singing G-d’s story, sustained by our hope.” (“The Flame of Faith that has Survived all Tyranny,” The Times, December 19, 2008).

May the Perpetual Light of the Ner Tamid continue to shine over us all and point us in the right direction where we can bind with our fellow men and women and, together, continue to bask in the glory of Hope and Wisdom that it spreads for the benefit of us all.

 

Happy Purim, dear Am Yisrael 

Sukkot and Pesach -Two Facets of Jewish Epistemology

 

    

Pesach represents the love of G-d for his people. Sukkot represents the love of the people                                                                               for G-d." - Rabbi Jonathan Sacks ZT"L

  

Many years ago, I was watching an episode of “The People’s Court” with the late Judge Wapner. It was about a lawsuit presented by a person who lived on Malibu beach. His issue was with his Jewish neighbour who decided to erect a “hut,” during this time of year. The “hut,” he claimed, blocked his view of the ocean.

In his ruling, Judge Wapner gave the defendant one week to remove the “hut.” Everyone was satisfied with his decision.

Naturally, being Jewish, Judge Wapner knew the reason for erecting the “hut.” He knew that the suspicious “hut” is called a “Sukkah.” Having been raised in an orthodox home, he was aware of the commandment calling upon us, Jews, “Speak to the people of Israel, On the fifteenth day of this seventh month and for seven days is the Feast of Booths (Sukkot) to the Lord.” (Vayikra-Leviticus 23:34).

Now that we know the commandment, let us take it one step further and provide the reason for celebrating the Holy Day. The answer is provided in Vayikra 23:43,

“So your descendants will know that I had the Israelites live in temporary thatched huts when I brought them out of Egypt. I am the Lord your G-d.”

Clearly, Sukkot, just like Pesach, commemorates the Exodus from Egypt. As the Torah tells us, throughout the wanderings in the desert, Am Yisrael was living in huts or sukkot.

Some believe that since both Pesach and Sukkot commemorate the same event, the Exodus from Egypt, they should be celebrated at the same time.  After all, it could be much more pleasant to have a Seder outdoors, in the Sukkah, during Springtime when Pesach occurs, than in the Fall when Sukkot takes place.

The question as to why Sukkot is observed separately and why it was set to take place at this time of year, Fall, engaged many Jewish scholars.

Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, also known as “Baal Haturim,” explains that during the spring and summertime, many people tend to sit under an awning or in a shade to protect themselves against the rays of the sun. Had we built Sukkot during Pesach, we would not have been able to discern as to whether we sit there for the sole purpose of performing a Mitzvah or merely for our own pleasure. However, when the rain starts and people generally seek cover in the comforts of their homes, we elect to go out and sit in the Sukkah to demonstrate that we perform G-d’s commandment.

The Vilna Gaon offers another explanation. He believes that that Sukkot is the time when the clouds of reverence returned to wrap Am Yisrael after they were removed subsequent to the sin of the Golden Calf.  The Gaon asserts that soon after his descent from Mount Sinai, Moshe decreed the building of the Mishkan. Upon commencement of its construction, there was reconciliation between G-d and Am Yisrael and the clouds returned. The Holy Day of Sukkot was solemnized to commemorate that moment in our history.

In my opinion, there is an educational component in separating Pesach and Sukkot on the Hebrew calendar. As mentioned above, a golden thread runs through these Holy Days. On both, Torah charges that we should stress the importance of teaching our children and our future generations the significance of freedom from the house of bondage. On Pesach, we are commanded, “And you shall tell your son in that day,” (Shemot, Exodus 13:8-9). A similar decree, as we saw above, is given regarding Sukkot, “So your descendants will know…” A lesson of such immense prominence needs to be reinforced and repeated lest we forget it.  Spacing its review every seven months, which is the span of time between the two Holy Days, is one way to ensure its absorption and retention.  

 The late Rabbi Sacks, quoting Rabbi Akiva, offers yet another explanation as to why Sukkot is celebrated in the Harvest time. According to him, the answer lies in the prophecy of Jeremiah who states,

“Israel is holy to G-d,

The first fruit of His harvest.” (Jeremiah2:2)

Just as during Sukkot,  “the Israelites celebrated their harvest,” states Sacks, “so G-d celebrates His – a people who, whatever else their failings, have stayed loyal to heaven’s call for longer, and through a more arduous set of journeys, than any other people on earth.”

Hoping and praying for better days.

Am Yisrael Chai 💖

Kohelet - the Embodiment of Intellectual Courage

 

     “Intellectual courage is the quality that allows one to believe in one’s judgment in the face of disappointment and widespread skepticism. Intellectual courage is even rarer than physical courage.” - John Charles Polanyi, Nobel Prize Laureate in Chemistry 1986

Jews, the world over, are celebrating the Holy Day of Sukkot. This festivity is a milestone in our Jewish year for more than one reason.

First and foremost, Sukkot is one of the several links in the chain of events which commemorate the Exodus from Egypt, from slavery into freedom, a momentous event, in our Jewish history. “Live in sukkot [temporary shelters] for seven days: All native-born Yisralites are to live in sukkot: so, your descendants will know that I had the Yisraelites live in sukkot when I brought them out of Egypt. I am the Lord your G-d” (Leviticus, 23: 42-43).

Sukkot also marks the completion of a 52-week-old yearly cycle of reading the Torah portions and the commencement of a new one. It concludes with Simchat Torah which is characterized by Jews dancing with the Torah, our Tree of Life.

Another special custom that takes place on this Holy Day is one when on the Shabbat that occurs during the intermediary days of Sukkot (Chol Hamo’ed), we read one of the greatest books ever written, Kohelet (Ecclesiastes).

Kohelet belongs to the group of books entitled “The Books of Wisdom” in our Tanach. According to tradition, the book is attributed to King Solomon and was written by him at an old age. Its name, Kohelet, stems from the same Hebrew root as the word “congregation,” or “to congregate.” Scholars explain that Solomon was called "Kohelet" because Solomon “congregated congregations in Yisrael” – gathered the People and taught them Torah as is expected of a king.

The wisdom of Kohelet has engaged many philosophers, thinkers, and writers such as Maimonides, Kierkegaard, Tolstoy, professor Leibovitch, my most favourite Rabbi, Lord Jonathan Sacks ZT”L and many others over the years, and for a good reason.

It is not my intention to delve into the complexities of the book and the intensity of the insights that Kohelet embraces. I doubt I ever could grasp the degree the author’s intellectual courage nor the tragic meaning of his sentiments. Neither could this space ever accommodate all the book’s intricacies.

I would like, however, to dwell on a few points.

Kohelet focuses on one important issue: the meaning and purpose of life, a question that has preoccupied humanity for a long time. It is not just another philosophical book with a methodical doctrine. Its conclusions do not flow in a linear manner. Moreover, in most cases, it does not bother to justify its claims. It merely states them and in a rather pessimistic way which is summed up in the second verse of the book, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”

Kohelet, a man in his twilight days stresses the pointlessness, the absurdity, and the temporality of everything. He feels that now, at an old age, not only can he say whatever is on his mind in an open and intellectually courageous way, it is his duty in the pursuit of truth. In the words of Milan Kundera, old age awards “a greater degree of freedom;…… only in old age can one ignore the opinion of the herd, the opinion of the public, and the opinion of the future.”

Professors Ya’akov Klein and Michael Fox describe Kohelet as a hard book to penetrate. They portray its views as “often strange and even contradictory.” Its flow of reasoning is winds from subject to subject back and forth without a clear structure that could guide the reader in deciphering them.

The intensity with which Kohelet expresses its view about human tragedy, its uncompromising pursuit of the truth as its author sees it and his unusual poetic ability to express himself, even in parts which the average reader is unable to comprehend them are, according to these two, what makes this book one of the greatest pieces of world literature.

Why then, do we read Kohelet on Sukkot?

One angle of looking at this book of wisdom is through the inevitable perception that everything in life is transitory. On Sukkot, we dwell in temporary, fragile structures which mirror our existence. “Our lives,” states Rabbi Sacks in his interpretation of Kohelet, “are a mere microsecond in the history of the universe. The cosmos,” suggests Sacks, “lasts forever while we, living, breathing mortals are a mere fleeting breath. Kohelet,” explains Sacks, “is obsessed by this because it threatens to rob life of any certainty. We will never live to see the long-term results of our endeavours.”

How, then, are we to find meaning in life, the core of Kohelet’s concern?

According to Sacks, “Kohelet eventually finds it not in happiness but in joy – because joy lives not in thoughts of tomorrow, but in the grateful acceptance of today. We are here; we are alive; we are among others who share our sense of jubilation.” 

That is, indeed, the ensuing message which ends every one of Kohelet's deliberations on the purpose of life. They culminate with an entreaty to rejoice. His conclusion is unequivocal and clear, "However many years anyone may live, let them rejoice in them." (Kohelet 11:8). 

May we all enjoy a Healthy and Happy Sukkot, fellow Jews and a jubilant and rewarding life to all, this time of year and always. 

Note:

Yours truly has also engaged in studying “Kohelet.” When completing my undergraduate degree at the University of California San Diego, I wrote a paper comparing its perspective with that of Buddhism. My paper was entitled “Ecclesiastes and Buddhism, Two Facets of Human Epistemology.”

 

 

 

"B’Shalach,” Denotation vs. Connotation

 

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” –Mark Twain

On several occasions, I have lectured and written about the challenges that translation poses. Through translation, we are exposed not only to different languages, but also to the lifestyle, customs, and world view of those who speak those languages. Such “cultural exchanges,” through their creators prompted people like George Steiner to say: “without translation, we would live in districts that border silence.” The same tone emanates from Anthony Borgess who maintains that “Translation is not a matter of words only; it is a matter of making intelligent a whole culture.”

This brings me to this week’s Parashah, B’Shalach. It gets its name from the verse that opens it “VaYehi B’Shalach Par’o et ha’am” Shemot (Exodus) 13:17. The English translation of the verse states: “When Pharaoh let the People go…”

The Hebrew verse and its English translation, I believe, do not convey the same message. Their incongruity is an example of the difference between “denotation,” the literal definition of the word and “connotation” which is an idea or feeling that the word evokes aside from its literal definition. The translation, in my view, misses a very important aspect of the history of our Jewish culture.

The Hebrew word, “shalach,” literally means “sent.” Yes, it also means “release.” However, the translation into “let go” is, in the words of Twain, not “the right word,” it is, rather, “the almost right word.” Had the Torah wanted to tell us that Pharaoh ‘Let” the people go, it could have used a different Hebrew word such as “"תן which means precisely “let” or “allow” and which expresses the same notion as the English translation purports.

There is a reason, in my view, that the Torah uses the word “shalach”. It is a major component of the story of the Exodus and plays a big role in forming the essence of what has later become Am Yisrael. In fact, the choice of that specific word has engaged many Biblical scholars over the centuries.

Ohr HaChaim (Rabbi Moshe ben Atar 1696-1743) not only wonders about the choice of that word. He also goes one step further and poses the following question, “why did the Torah use “when Pharoah sent” rather than “when G-d took us out of Egypt?”

The root, “shalach,” is used each time Moshe turned to Pharaoh in a plea to release the people. G-d, according to Ohr Ha’Chayim, wanted to teach Pharoah a lesson. He wished to coerce Pharaoh into releasing and sending away the people against his will, if merely to avenge for the latter’s boldness and audacious statement: “who is the Lord that I should obey him and send Yisrael’ I do not know the Lord nor shall I send Yisrael” (5:2). Furthermore, G-d delivered on his promise to Moshe to not only bring Pharoah to release the people but to banish them, drive them out: “Then the Lord said to Moshe, I will bring one more plague on Pharoah and on Egypt. After that, he will send you from here and when he does, he will drive you out completely” (11:1). And that is what indeed happened. Following the plagues that G-d brought upon Egypt, Pharoah eventually caved in and, at the right moment, called Moshe and Aharon in the middle of the night, begged and urged them to hasten their departure, take the people, get out of Egypt and go worship G-d (12:31).

Ohr Ha’Chayim also notes that, according to the Mekhilta*, throughout the negotiations with Pharoah, Moshe keeps asking him to send, liberate his people, “Shalach et Ami,” which is of paramount importance. The Exodus must have Pharoah’s stamp of approval. Hence the first verse of this Parashah, “When Pharoah sent the people,” comes to tell us that the people left Egypt with permission and lawfully. In fact, all of Egypt implored them to leave: “The Egyptians urged the people to hurry and leave the country. ‘For otherwise,’ they said, ‘we will all die!’” (12:33).

The message of this Parashah is that the people did not leave clandestinely, under the cloak of darkness. They left in broad daylight along with their livestock and other possessions.  Moreover, in 14:5, the Egyptians themselves later admit that they sanctioned the Exodus which is added proof that the people did not run away or leave without prior approval. It is of prime importance to G-d that every human being recognizes that Pharoah and the Egyptians sent the people out of their free will.

Rash”i further elaborates on the choice of the word “shalach.” According to him, the use of the word suggests that Pharoah sent his officials to escort the people to ensure that they return to Egypt after three days (14:5). Rash”i claims that these officials were nothing but “איקטורין” (actors, imposters, even spies). That is what “Erev Rav,” (multitudes) mentioned in 12:38, he explains, means. They were Pharoah’s emissaries disguised as the Children of Yisrael. Their task, suggests Rash”i, was to incite, confuse and cause the latter to sin and eventually return to Egypt.

That, however, is a subject for another article, dear readers.

Shabbat Shalom Am Yisrael and fellow Jews and a wonderful weekend to all

 *A rule of scriptural exegesis in Judaism, attributed to any several authors.

 

The Gift Called Freedom

 

“The Exodus from Egypt occurs in every human being, in every era, in every year and in every day.”    –                                                 Rabbi Nachman of Breslov

 

The concept of Freedom is the central theme in this week’s Parashah, Bo. It tells us that the tenth plague was the last straw that brought about Pharoah’s change of heart and forced him to agree to free the Yisraelites and let them leave Egypt.

Lest they forget the enormity and importance of the experience of that moment in our history, G-d commands Moshe to set up a calendar based on the monthly rebirth of the moon and commemorate the event we have all come to know as Pesach (Passover), “This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you” (Shemot 12:2). Later in the Parashah, G-d commands Moshe to ensure that Pesach always occurs in the Spring, “On this day in the month of Aviv (Spring), you have been set free” (13:4).  Launching and adhering to the calendar is the first mitzvah that Am Yisrael is commanded.

The significance of that Mitzvah is twofold.

The first is related to the concept of time. Time is of essence in our lives. As anyone who has ever been enslaved or deprived of freedom would know, one of the indications of such a state is the inability to control time. The momentous component of time is embedded in this Mitzvah, which comprises of the two verses, above, in which G-d commands Moshe to set up, for Am Yisrael, not just a lunar calendar but to combine it with a solar one (Spring, like the other seasons, are determined by the sun). Since, as we all know, the lunar and solar differ in the number of days, they require synchronization. I refer the reader to an article I wrote on this subject several years ago https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/in-israel-keep-the-gregorian-calendar-but-bring-back-to-wider-use-the-hebrew-calendar-and-reinstate-some-of-our-jewish-pride/ .

The  second important aspect of this Mitzvah is the obligation to remember and remind ourselves that we were, once, slaves in Mitzrayim (Egypt). Now that we are liberated, we are required to evoke the belief that it should remain the backbone of every society. It is our duty, as members of humanity, to ensure that the celebration of Freedom remains the inherent right of every human being, all the time.

Hasidism explains that Mitzrayim (Egypt) stems from the same root as Meitzar which means “a narrow place, a place of confinement.” Yetziat Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt, when Am Yisrael broke the shackles of slavery, is a colossal event (regardless of whether it is a subject of debate among scholars) in world’s history.

As testimony to the scale of that event, I direct the readers to the opening words of the Ten Commandments, which include the most universal moral code. They state:

“I am the Lord, your G-d, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.” (Shemot 20:2).

Rabbi Yehudah Halevi asked Rabbi Yehudah Ibn Ezra, “Why did G-d say, ‘I am the Lord G-d who took you out of Egypt and not I am the Lord your G-d who created the Heaven and Earth?’ which is a much more consequential act than the Exodus?” Ibn Ezra’s response, we are told, was that the virtue of Freedom from bondage is just as significant as the creation of the world, if not more.

G-d expands on the Mitzvah of commemorating the Exodus from Egypt and directs Moshe to command Am Yisrael to observe it, for seven days, each year by removing all leaven from their homes and eating Matzah.

Most importantly, Am Yisrael is charged with the duty to tell the story of their redemption, their liberation from the house of bondage to their children “And thou shalt tell thy son in that day, It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt.” (13:8).

Chaza”l go one step further and state : “In every generation, a person is obligated to regard himself as if he personally left Egypt” (Pesachim 10:5). In line with that directive, some families, symbolically re-enact the Exodus by carrying a small bag and passing it around the table so that each participant can take part in that ritual.

I believe it was Rabbi Sacks ZT”L who best expresses how Jews and Am Yisrael staunchly conform to that Mitzvah when he says: “The Jewish festival of Freedom is the oldest continuously observed religious ritual in the world. Across the centuries, Passover has never lost its power to inspire the imagination of successive generations of Jews with its annually re-enacted drama of slavery and liberation.”

Though the Exodus from Egypt is associated with the Jewish People only, slavery, unfortunately, in different forms still plagues our world. Freedom is, on many occasions, taken for granted. When that happens, it is lost. “The battle for freedom,” tells us Rabbi Sacks, “must continue to be fought and is never finally won.”

Shabbat Shalom Am Yisrael and fellow Jews and a blessed weekend to all.