The Episode of the Blasphemer

 

                              

In Parashat Emor Vayikra (Leviticus), 21:1-24:23, we are told about a son of an “Yisraelite woman” and “Egyptian man” who quarrelled with an Yisraelite man (24:10). Torah continues and shares with us that “The son of the Yisraelite woman pronounced the name of G-d, cursing Him... His mother’s name was Shelomit bat Divri of the tribe of Dan” (24:11-12).

The sinner is detained and upon G-d’s directive, he is put to death by stoning

Following the event, G-d speaks to Moshe and orders him, “You must speak to Bnei Yisrael, saying: ‘Any man who curses his G-d must bear his sin. One who pronounces the proper name of G-d while cursing it must be put to death. The entire community will stone him to death. Whether he is a convert or a native Yisraelite, if he pronounces the Divine Name as part of his curse, he must be put to death” (24:15-16).

Who is this “blasphemer” whose name is not mentioned other than his being the son of an “Yisraelite woman and the son of an Egyptian man?” What was the dispute about? Why did he curse G-d?

This story, as it seems, is one case where Jewish sages diverged on how “dramatically” they read the account.

Rash”i, for instance, brings a Midrashic explanation with a few key ideas. He draws his interpretation from Midrash Tanchuma and Vayikra Rabbah. Using these sources, Rash”i focuses on why the Torah emphasizes the man’s mixed parentage. Midrash Vayikra Rabbah (32:3), offers that the “Egyptian father” is the same Egyptian who was killed by Moshe in Shemot (Exodus) 2:12, after the latter witnessed him beating a Hebrew man. According to Midrash Tanchuma (Emor 24), that Egyptian disguised himself as Datan, the husband of Shelomit bat Divri, entered her room when Datan was absent and assaulted her. The child born from that union is the blasphemer in our Parashah.

Rash”i further explains that this man tried to “pitch his tent” among the tribe of Dan, his mother’s tribe. Unfortunately for him, tribal identity followed the father’s line. The court, therefore, ruled against him. Out of frustration, anger and humiliation, Rash”i asserts, he escalated from a personal dispute to blasphemy.

Unlike Rash”i, Ramba”n and Ibn Ezra do not lean on the Midrashic approach. Rather, they read the story in a straightforward manner. For them the key issue is legal identity and do not see any need for a backstory drama or link the event to a morally tainted origin story that happened in Egypt. Like Rash”i, they believe that the blasphemy is the result of social dislocation and legal rejection.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks reads the episode quite differently from the classical commentators mentioned above. Though like Rash”i and Ramba”n, Sacks notes that the Torah’s detailing of the man’s parentage is unusual. Unlike Rashi, he doesn’t focus on who his father was and unlike Ramba”n, he doesn’t center on the legal technicality of tribal placement. Rather, Sacks dwells on what the story says about identity, belonging and speech. For Sacks, the episode reflects human and social tension.

Rabbi Sacks takes it further, psychologically. In his view, the sinner lived with a fractured and unresolved identity, torn between two worlds. On the one hand, he was inside the camp yet not fully accepted. In a way, Sacks uses the Midrashic backstory to frame a modern psychological and social lesson about the dangers of exclusion and humiliation and how the anger and frustration they create can lead to desecration of the most sacred, in this case, the Divine Name.

Sacks believes that “One law shall be for you, for the stranger as for the native” (24:22) tells us about the kind of society the Torah is trying to build. He points to this verse, as the Torah’s own concluding lesson on the event, one that demands equal justice even for those whose origins make them social outcasts.

When Impatience and Spiritual Insecurity Take Over

 

                                   Exodus 32:1-35, illustration from a Bible card published in 1901 by the Providence Lithograph Company 

    "Faith is not certainty; it is the courage to live with uncertainty." – Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

Last week’s Parashah, Ki Tisa covers chapters 30:11 through 34:35, in the Book of Shemot (Exodus). It narrates one of the most dramatic and troubling, yet constitutive, moments in Am Yisrael’s history. I am referring to the episode of The Golden Calf which occurs shortly after the revelation at Mount Sinai.

 Fearing that Moshe may not comeback after his ascent to Mount Sinai, Am Yisrael demands that Aaron, his brother, erect a tangible image that would "go before them.“  The affair provokes a severe crisis between Am Yisrael and G-d, threatening the Covenant they entered with Him, merely a short time earlier. Enraged by this idolatry, Moshe breaks the two stone tablets engraved with the ten commandments, destroys the idol, and punishes the people.

Our sages have grappled with the meaning of this sin, what prompted it and the lessons one may draw from it. Many see it not merely as an act of idolatry but as a psychological and spiritual crisis when Am Yisrael felt abandoned, as expressed in verse 32:1 where the Torah emphasizes the anxiety of Am Yisrael when they believe that Moshe is not going to return,  “When the People saw that Moshe delayed his coming down from the mountain.... For this man Moshe....who brought us up from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.”

Rash"i, more so than other commentators, tends to present the sin of the Golden Calf with a dose of sympathy and frequently stresses the circumstances and confusion that led to it. Though Rash"i does not excuse the gravity of the sin, he reads this verse as describing a crisis of patience. He explains that the Yisraelites expected Moshe to return after forty days but miscounted the days. In his commentary on this verse, Rash"i states that the people included the day Moshe ascended Mount Sinai, while the correct count began the following day causing fear and panic. 

Rash"i cites a related passage inTalmud Shabbat 89a which describes how Satan created the illusion that Moshe died, thus intensifying the People’s fear and impatience. It is important to note, at this point, that in Judaism, Satan refers to the Prosecutor in the Heavenly Court who functions as a prosecuting attorney, testing that faithfulness is genuine, as is the case in the Book of Job. Midrash Tanchuma (Ki Tisa 19) takes this test even farther when it describes how Satan creates a physical, magical illusion of the calf to lead them astray. This symbolic midrash proposes that Am Yisrael’s doubt and confusion were emotionally manipulated causing them to lose patience.

Rash"i further suggests that the People were utterly dependent on Moshe and interprets their request of “make us gods that will go before us,” as seeking a replacement for Moshe as a leader, not a replacement for G-d. Their reference to Moshe as “This man....” signals a moment of psychological distancing and their inability to sustain faith without a mediator between them and G-d.

Like Rash"i, Ramba"n also dwells on the emotional context.  He asserts that since the Yisraelites have only recently left Egypt, after hundreds of years of slavery, their faith is still fragile and is still influenced by Egyptian culture with its visible religious symbols. When Moshe did not return as they expected, their insecurity pushed them to seek something tangible.

However, while Rash"i focuses mostly on the circumstances that led to the sin, Ramba"n analyzes its theological implications. According to him, the Yisraelites did not wish to replace G-d. They intended to replace Moshe with a substitute leader who would mediate between them and G-d, as did Moshe. Through his broader theory of the origin of idolatry, Ramba"n asserts that people who believe in G-d often introduce intermediaries to make divine worship more tangible (Ramba"n Commentary on Torah, Exodus 32:1). This interpretation shows Am Yisrael’s spiritual insecurity and inability to maintain faith without a physical mediator. Mostly, it points out that the nascent Nation, has not yet internalized faith and that when the mediator disappears, faith collapses into insecurity.

The Golden Calf narrative is often understood not only as a prohibition against idolatry but also as a profound exploration of faith, leadership, and the challenges of maintaining trust in an invisible G-d. The story therefore serves as a timeless cautionary lesson about the dangers of substituting immediate comfort for enduring faith. In every generation, the challenge remains the same: whether to succumb to the allure of the “golden calf” in its various forms, or to remain steadfast in the covenantal values and spiritual trust that define the Jewish tradition.

With your permission, dear readers, I would like to conclude with the thoughtful words of my learned friend, Sara Marciano. She draws a compelling analogy between the biblical episode of the Golden Calf and the challenges facing modern-day Yisrael. Marciano suggests that certain sectors of the Israeli elite have amassed considerable power while, in her view, continuing to worship the "golden calf” and embrace values that distance us from our Jewish roots and from our eternal covenant with G-d. “It is worth reflecting carefully,” she writes, “on whether one should continue to bow before the "golden calf," thus aligning with the darker side of history and ultimately being shattered by it, or instead, rise with valour and oppose it.”

I choose the latter. What about you?

Shavua tov and blessings to all.

Yaakov and the Birthright: Deception or Destiny?

 

"And the boys grew; and Esav was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and Yaakov was a quiet man, dwelling in tents" Bresheet 25:27

Birthright (bechorah) in the Ancient Near East, the setting for our Parashah, was very important, socially, legally, economically, and religiously.  One of the privileges of the first born, as stated in legal texts and documents such as the Hammurabi Code (18th century BCE, laws 170-171) or the Nuzi Tablets (Hurrian culture, 15th century BCE), state that the firstborn son typically received a larger share of the inheritance, often a double portion. This was meant to maintain the family estate and ensure stability. Bechorah also meant assuming responsibility and family continuity. In some of the Ancient Near Eastern cultures, it meant a sacred status. Moreover, in most of these societies, the birthright was fixed by birth, and could not easily be sold, traded or taken away.

Understanding this background helps explain why the story of Esav and Yaakov in Toledot, in the context of Bechorah, is so dramatic.

A bird’s eye view of the bechorah episode, in the Parashah, shows that it is driven by acts of trickery, most notably Rivkah’s scheme to have Yaakov receive the patriarchal blessing meant for Esav, which Yitzchak grants due to his blindness. Several specific verses in Toledot clearly hint at, describe, or imply Yaakov’s deception of Yitzchak (and by extension Esav). 

The initiation of Rivkah’s plan of deception is evidenced in Bresheet 27: 6-10. There, Rivkah tells Yaakov, “I heard your father speaking to Esav… Now, my son, do as I command you.” 

Yaakov hesitates because Esav is hairy and he is smooth, “Perhaps my father will feel me, and I shall seem to him as a deceiver.” The verse explicitly uses the word, מתעתע (metaatea, “a deceiver”), acknowledging the deceptive plan. Yaakov fears being caught. 

Rivkah takes responsibility for the guilt when she responds by saying, “Upon me be your curse, my son” (27:13). Naturally, Rivkah understands the morally dangerous nature of the scheme. She disguises Yaakov, “She put the garments of Esav… on Yaakov… and placed the goat skins on his hands" (Bresheet 27:15-16).

However the most explicit hint of deception and statement of impersonation can be found in the following exchanges:

Yitzchak : “Who are you, my son?”

Yaakov : “I am Esav, your firstborn” (Bresheet 27:18-19).

Despite his condition (old age and blindness), Yitzchak gets suspicious. “How did you find it [the prey] so quickly?” he asks. Yaakov invokes G-d: “because the Lord your G-d caused it to happen,” to which Yitzchak responds, “The voice is the voice of Yaakov, but the hands are the hands of Esav” (Bresheet 27:20-22).

While Yaakov’s actions are debatable and raise a theological and ethical problem, especially in light of his eventual emergence as the father of the twelve tribes of Am Yisrael, there seems to be a silver lining in this narrative, as Rabbi Joel Mosbacher suggests. “The Torah,” he asserts, “is full of complex characters. You would think that in a sacred text, the personages would be perfect and morally pure-but the people in the Torah are far from that…. We see ourselves in their strengths and foibles, flaws and humanness. If they were perfect," concludes Mosbacher, “we could hold them as paragons but not relate to them. A parent can relate to Yitzchak and Rivkah. A sibling can relate to Yaakov and Esav. They are very human characters.” Personally, I am happy to see that our forefather was human just like us. At the same time, though, I could not fathom them engaging in illicit deeds.

This tension and the need to reconcile Yaakov’s righteousness with his deception has been discussed for over 2000 years. Jewish sages did not see Yaakov as “stealing” the Bechorah in the simple moral sense. Instead, they offered several explanations, legal, moral and spiritual, that show why Yaakov’s actions were justified or at least not a sin in the conventional sense. Here are some of these approaches.

Ramba”n and Rash”i, for instance, suggest that the verse “The older shall serve the younger,” (Bresheet 25:23) implies a Divine prophecy which Rivkah received and thus know that Yakkov is the chosen heir. According to them, Rivkah’s plan ensures that G-d’s will was fulfilled. She is planning the consummation of G-d’s plan. 

Chaza”l offer another explanation to the move by Rivkah and Yaakov. They  emphasize that since “Esav despised the birthright,” (Bresheet 25:34), treated it lightly, sold it of his free will and was unworthy of it. Midrash Tanchuma and Bava Batra 16b (which lists Esav’s sins on the day he sold his Birthright) describe Esav as impulsive, spiritually uninterested and engaging in immoral behaviour. Thus, according to them, Yaakov did not steal. He simply valued what Esav scorned.

Rash”i takes his defense of Yaakov one step further. His assertion is that Esav misrepresents himself to Yitzchak. Rash”i bases it on his interpretation of Bresheet 25:28, specifically on the Hebrew phrase “tzayid befiv” which literally means “game in his mouth” (referring to Esav’s hunting, trapping skills). Rash”i construes it as Esav using speech to manipulate Yitzchak.

It seems that to justify Yaakov and protect the moral standing of a patriarch, most sages elevate Esav’s guilt. Their portrayal of Esav provides a moral framework in which Yaakov’s act is not a betrayal but a correction of a long-standing deception.

Unlike the above-mentioned Jewish scholars, Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks does not focus on Esav’s demerits.  He takes a more psychological and ethical approach, showing how the story reflects deep truths about identity, destiny and family. Sacks asserts that Yaakov is not naturally deceptive. He notes that he is gentle, studious and responsible. His mother, Sacks believes, forces him to act like Esav to get a blessing that ironically was meant for his own true self, “This is the story," concludes Sacks, “of a young man forced to wear someone else’s clothes, hiding his true identity.” This is not theft. It is a crisis of identity.

Sacks, along with other commentators stress that the blessing Yaakov receives by deception is the material blessing. The Covenantal blessing, the Avrahamic promise, one that is meant for him is given openly, with full awareness, by Yitzchak later (Bresheet 28:3-4).

The blessing, as all sages agree, is not a personal prize. It is meant for the future of the Jewish People and the fulfillment of the covenant. Esav, as the text shows us, does not value it which leads us to the inevitable conclusion that the blessing was rightfully Yaakov’s and what he does is rightfully reclaiming what is already his. In the words of Sacks, “A birthright cannot be stolen from someone who does not value it.”

Covenantal Accountability and Free Will

 

 

              “It is not with you alone that I am making this sworn covenant,   but with whoever is standing here with us today before the Lord our G-d, and with whoever is not here with us today” (Deuteronomy 29:13-14).

              “Life and death I have set before you, blessing and curse. And you shall choose life.” (Deuteronomy 30:19)

  

On his final day, Moshe gathers Am Yisrael for the purpose of renewing their Brit (Covenant) with G-d. The name of the parashah, “Nitzavin,” hints at the solemnity of the occasion. “Nitzav” means “standing” in Hebrew. However, as commentators like Rash”i and Sforno suggest, it means more than just “standing.” It carries the sense of standing firmly, uprightly, with presence, and resolve to honour this important milestone in Jewish history

Parashat Nitzavim includes some of the most fundamental principles of the Jewish faith. This essay will focus on two of them.

The first stresses collective accountability, as the words “whoever is not with us today,” in the first quote above (Deuteronomy 29:13-14) alludes to. The Torah, it tells us, applies to every Jew at all times and is binding on every Jew even those not born yet. All members of Am Yisrael are original covenant partners. In other words, Our Covenant with G-d is not just historical but eternal.

“The phrase, ‘whoever is not here,’ explains Lord Rabbi Sacks, “cannot refer to Yisraelites alive at the time who happened to be somewhere else……since the entire nation was assembled there. Moshe can only mean ‘generations not yet born’…..By agreeing to be G-d’s People,” concludes Sacks, “subject to G-d’s laws, our ancestors obligated us all.”

Midrash Tanchuma (Nitzavim 3) and Talmud (Shavuot 39a) interpret the phrase, which has been central in Jewish thought, “all Jewish souls, past, present, and future, were spiritually present.” 

Ramba”n (Nachmanides) goes even further and asserts that this phrase also includes gerim (further converts to Judaism). Even those who would one day join Yisrael were foreseen and included (proving that Torah’s reach is beyond biological descent).

Sforno highlights the  responsibility and solidarity facet of our Jewish faith suggesting that the covenant is binding on every individual because Yisrael functions as a community where all are responsible for one another.

What these verses establish is that Judaism is a timeless, transgenerational commitment.

The second paramount principle of the parashah that this article wishes to address is Free Will. It is reflected in the second verse above (Deuteronomy 30:19).  There, Moshe, in a stirring declaration, calls upon the People to “choose life,” a declaration that is often cited as the clearest statement of human Free Will.

It seems that at the heart of Parashat Nitzavim lies a profound tension between destiny and free will. It stems from the paradox it echoes. On the one hand, how can unborn generations be forced into a covenant that they never chose, if individuals truly have free will? On the other hand, if a nation as a whole is accountable for each member’s conduct, does that diminish the individual’s authority?

This tension did not escape Jewish thinkers and commentators who were trying to reconcile the two conflicting themes.

Ramba”n and Abrabanel teach us that just as any child is born into a family without choosing it, so too, every Jew is born into the Covenant. The Covenant in their view is a national identity contract which defines our Peoplehood. Ramba”m (Hilchot Teshuvah 5) stresses that though the Covenant is permanent, every human being is fully free to choose obedience or disobedience. How one lives in that Covenant is left to each person’s free choice.

Midrash (Shabbat 88a) contends that though the Covenant binds us objectively, every generation must subjectively re-embrace it by choice.

Modern Jewish thinkers also address this tension between the binding covenant and free choice in Nitzavim.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903-1993) distinguishes between Covenant of Fate (Brit Goral) which “coerced”  future generations into a Covenant of Fate since they were born into it and Covenant of Destiny (Brit Yi’ud) in which every individual must freely choose to live out the covenant of destiny (Kol Dodi Dofek...The Lonely Man of Faith).

In Covenant and Conversation on Nitzavim, Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explains that Covenant is not tyranny but rather a partnership. G-d gives people freedom to choose how to respond, including the possibility of failure, exile and redemption. For Sacks, the phrase “choose life” demonstrates that while we inherit the Covenant, its fulfillment depends on moral freedom.

Rav Kook (1865-1935) asserts that the eternal Covenant means that every Jew, even if they reject it consciously, retains a spark of connection. The manner in which that spark of connection is expressed is left to the individual’s free will.

The lesson that Parashat Nitzavim teaches us is that the Covenant is inescapable as collective identity. Every Jew past, present or future is born into it. However, within that, it points out that every person retains absolute Free Will in how to live, respond, or rebel. The Covenant gives the framework, Free Will determines the journey.

"Mishneh Torah" (Deuteronomy) - Ethics Precede Historical Narratives

 

“Deuteronomy is in essence a programme for the creation of a moral society in which righteousness is the responsibility of all.” - Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

Last week’s Parashah, Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19, was Ki Teize (“When you go out to war….”). Ramba"m (Maimonides) notes that it is an extraordinarily mitzvah-rich parashah. It lists around 76 out of the 613 Torah commandments thus marking the Torah’s central practical section. It covers diverse topics including laws of war, family laws, interpersonal ethics, civil and commercial regulations as well as agricultural laws.

This week’s Parashah, Ki Tavo (“When you enter the land…”), begins with two mitzvot (Bikkurim and the declaration over tithes) that serve as culmination rituals, celebrating the conclusion of Torah life in the Land.

In his book “Deuteronomy 1-11,” the Yisraeli Biblical scholar, Moshe Weinfeld comments that both the Greek appellation of the book, deuteronomion and the Hebrew appellation "Mishneh Torah" means “repeated law” or “second law” and alludes to the fact that Deuteronomy is a (revised) repetition of a large part of the law and history of the Tetrateuch (the first four books). Unlike Genesis, Exodus, Numbers and Joshua  which narrate Yisrael’s journey and events, Deuteronomy retells history selectively. According to him, Deuteronomy is the “national constitution" defining the covenantal relationship and governing principles.

Earlier Torah books, as many of us have witnessed, chronicle events, consecutively and as they happen: the story of creation, the patriarchal stories, Exodus and Numbers, Sinai and wilderness wanderings. Though Mosaic speeches appear in them, the former are generally embedded in the larger historical narrative.

Ramba”n (1194-1270) similarly asserts that Moshe’s purpose in “Mishneh Torah” (Deuteronomy) was not to recount history but rather empahsize the laws of ethics and those laws that will be relevant once Am Yisrael settles the Land.

Abrabanel (1437-1508) agrees with Ramba"n. He stresses that unlike the earlier Torah books, Deuteronomy is Moshe’s farewell address. His purpose, therefore, is not retelling history but exhortation which is aimed at stirring the people to ethical awareness before his death. The echoing of past events such as the spies, the Golden Calf, the wars with Sihon and Og is didactic. It is not used for historical reasons. Their recitation is used as ethical lessons with the goal of teaching Am Yisrael what happens when they fail to trust G-d and what blessings follow obedience. 

A number of modern Biblical scholars such as Nahum Sarna, Daniel J. Elazar, Jeffrey Tigay and others frame Deuteronomy as closer to a “Covenantal Constitution,” a book of law, a fundamental charter for Yisrael’s political, social and religious life (and other Biblically rooted constitutional traditions) rather than a historical chronicle. In other words, they believe that Deuteronomy’s narrative is often just the framework for moral and covenantal teaching. 

Dear readers, at this point, a little confession is begging to be made. When I sat down to write this essay, the titular name was not my intended topic. The decision to approach the issue, from the angle that was introduced above, ripened when I delved deeper into the text of the last two parashot, Ki Teize and Ki Tavo, successively, beyond the mere desire to refresh my memory of the text.

On the surface, the names of these two parashot suggest that Ki Tavo (“When you enter the Land….”) should logically and chronologically come before parashat Ki Teitze (“When you go out to war…”) since one would assume that Am Yisrael must first “enter” the Land before they need to “go out to war” to defend it.

It was then that I decided to embark on the ride which produced this essay. Evidently, the sequence of these two parashot has engaged the attention of Biblical commentators.

Many of them suggest that the Torah deliberately places Ki Teize before Ki Tavo. They base it on the fact that since Ki Teize is a mitzvah-packed parashah, it was necessary to list them before Am Yisrael settles in the Land.

Rabbi Obadia Sforno (1475-1550), for instance, notes that Am Yisrael would have to face battle immediately upon entry to the Land, both defensive and offensive. The laws of war, as mentioned in Ki Teize, would be needed before the “settling rituals” of Ki Tavo. He further asserts that Ki Teize is a natural continuation from Parashat Shoftim, where the Torah describes how judges and officers must guide Yisrael’s conduct in war.

Ohr Ha'Chayim has an interesting commentary about parashat Ki Teize. According to him, the battle is not just military but a lifelong war against the yetzer hara (evil inclination).Only after the inner ethical and spiritual struggles are addressed can the people truly “enter the Land” in a covenantal sense.

Rash”i and Ramba”n point out that, in Deuteronomy, Moshe is re-telling events selectively and not necessarily in a chronological order. His emphasis is on ethical lessons, not pure history.

Midrash Tanchuma also stresses that Deuteronomy’s repeated phrasing (“Take heed,” “Remember,” “Do not forget”) shows the priority of ethics and faithfulness over historical facts.

Earlier Torah books (Genesis-Numbers), as we have learned, contain a lot of narrative: the patriarch, the Exodus, the wilderness journeys with laws interwoven into the story. Deuteronomy, on the other hand, retells history intermittently and uses it mainly as a teaching tool for forming an ethical and just society under G-d’s sovereignty. Whereas the Tetrateuch focuses on what happened in the past, Deuteronomy has its eyes on the future and emphasizes what should be done. Shabbat Shalom