Vayishlach - the Art of Diplomacy

 

After over twenty years of absence, the decision has finally ripened in Yaakov, and he is preparing to leave his father in law’s home in Padan Aram and move back to resettle in the Land that G-d has promised him and his posterity. During the years that he was living with Laban, Yaakov flourished, built a strong family, amassed wealth, and many assets. Now, he is ready to legitimize his status as primogeniture and fulfill his calling as a son of the Covenant.

That major step, however, is cloaked with distress and much concern for him. There is still one issue that needs resolving, his strained relationship with his estranged brother, Esav, who vowed to kill him for having stolen his birthright. As much as Yaakov is looking forward to meeting his brother, the fear that Esav might launch a war against him hovers over his head. He does not want to kill, nor does he want to be killed.

Yaakov who is determined to go ahead and meet Esav, elects to use a three-pronged approach. The first step he takes is in the form of appeasement. He sends Esav gifts of cattle and flocks and instructs his messengers to tell Esav that: “it is a present sent unto my lord, even unto Esav; and behold, he also is behind us.” (Bresheet 32:19). Furthermore, in verse 21, Yaakov expounds and adds to his message, “Moreover, behold, thy servant Yaakov is behind us. ‘For he said: ‘I will appease him with the present that goeth before me, and afterward I will see his face, peradventure he will accept me.” It could not be more obvious that Yaakov’s hand is stretched out for Peace.

The second plan that Yaakov conceives of will be echoed many centuries later in the immortal words of the Roman Military expert, Vegetius, “Si vis, para bellum” (If you want Peace, prepare for war). While aiming for peace, Yaakov is preparing for the possible eventuality of a war with his brother. “And he divided the people that was with him and the flocks and the herds, and the camels, into two camps. And he said: ‘If Esav come to one camp, and smite it, then the camp which is left shall escape.” (32:8-9). Yaakov is splitting his household into two camps to ensure that, at least some do survive if a war does break out.

Finally, as a true son of the Covenant, Yaakov puts his trust in G-d through prayer. He reminds Him of His promise to watch over him and multiply his seed. (32:10-13).

When Esav and Yaakov eventually meet, both brothers seem to have transformed, through character development, into mature men who have learned to respect each other and put family before everything else. They part ways in peace and continue with the course of their lives.

The Midrash explains that the conflict between the brothers started already in their mother’s wombs (Bresheet 25:2). It was over the inheritance and control of the two worlds, this world, the corporal one, and the world to come, the spiritual world.

The Mahara”l of Prague dwells on this issue in his book, “Netzach Yisrael” (The Eternity of Yisrael). He claims that Yaakov was born with the inherent tendency towards the world to come, while Esav’s natural inclination is towards the physical world. The latter came into the world a fully physically developed newborn (with hair). Yaakov came out holding Esav’s heel. He, apparently, needed Esav’s support and was dependent on him. Esav’s descendants, the Mahara”l explains, feel at home in this world and reside in peace, alongside it. They have a stronghold in it which allows them to determine where war and peace should nest.

Unlike Esav, the core and the role of Yaakov and Am Yisrael (the children of Yaakov whose name changes to Yisrael, later, in this Parashah), continues the Mahara"l  is spiritual. Their task is to improve the world and build the House of the Lord. It is, therefore, only a matter of courtesy to seek permission from Esav, the one who controls the corporeal, earthly world prior to entering to make changes in it.

Even though G-d promised the Land to Yaakov and his future generations, Yaakov still seeks Esav’s consent and permission to enter it, as reflected in this his week’s Parashah. Yaakov’s future generations will, likewise, need the approval and the back of Esav’s offspring, concludes the Mahara”l.

This, as it turns out, is, indeed, the case through our Jewish history. Each time our People wish to pursue our yearning desire to leave the diaspora to join the Family of Nations, we seek the approval of the representatives of Esav.

The next time we encounter such an effort is when Am Yisrael leaves Egypt and is about to enter Eretz Yisrael, the Land that was promised to them. In that instance, they seek permission from Edom (named after Esav).

Similarly, after the Babylonian exile, Cyrus, the Persian King, issued his renowned Declaration. It granted and authorized the right of the Jews to return to Zion and build the Second Temple.

In modern times, we detect the same course. Did not Herzl, the founder of Political Zionism, bounce from one world leader to another, from the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire to the Kaiser, king of Prussia to seek permission from a great power to support his idea to establish a Jewish Homeland? Did not Chaim Weitzman approach Lord Balfour with the same request, an encounter that produced the Balfour Declaration and later, the San Remo Accord which decreed the rights of Jews to build their National Home in Eretz Yisrael, their ancestral Homeland?

Yes, that is our forefathers’ legacy to us. What a great privilege it is to be part of a nation, a culture that abides by international laws, engages in the art of diplomacy in a manner that dignifies not merely its members but also displays respect and courtesy towards those who are in power, in a mere effort to seek approval for what has already been rightfully ours.

Shabbat Shalom Fellow Jews and Am Yisrael and a wonderful weekend to all.

Primogeniture

 

One of the topics of this week’s parashah, “Toledot,” addresses is the rights of the Firstborn. In the Tanach, as was the case in the ancient Levant, those rights referred only to first born males.

“Primogeniture” is the Latin term that describes such practices. It reflects the right, by law or custom, of the firstborn male child to inherit the family estate, in preference to their siblings.

Some of the stories in the book of Bresheet surround the status of the Firstborn. We read about Cain and Abel competing over G-d’s approval of their respective sacrifices. We follow Sarah’s worries over Avraham’s inheritance, doing all that is in her power to ensure that it will go to her son Yitzchak rather than to Yishmael, his eldest son from Hagar. In this week’s Parashah, we encounter the struggle between Yaakov and his older brother, Esav, over the Birthright and the blessings of Yitzchak, their father.

In all three of the above examples, it seems that the Torah rejects the practice of primogeniture, which was prevalent in ancient times in the region, favours the younger sons and elects to endow them with that right. What, one may ask, is the purpose of such a, rather revolutionary, step?

In the first account, the decision was made by G-d. He chose Abel’s sacrifice over that of Cain.

In the case of Isaac and Yishmael, however, that preference of the former is embedded in the legal norms of that era, as reflected in the Hammurabi Code of Law, and which pertain to the inheritance rights of the son of a maid/slave, the status of Yishmael, Hagar’s son. That is this issue which is at the core of Sarah’s concern.

Article 170 of the Code states that if a man’s main wife bore his children as did his maid, the father shall bequeath all he owns to the children from his main wife, during his life. If the father passes away without declaring his rightful inheritors, his assets will be divided between all offspring regardless of who their mother was. Hagar was never the legal wife of Avraham. Sarah was. Hagar was a maid and a servant who bore a son to Avraham when Sarah thought that she was barren. Yishmael, though the eldest, was never the legal heir of Avraham. Sarah was his wife and Yitzchak, the younger son, was the legal heir.

In order to understand the choice of Yaakov over Esav, it is important to add that the term primogeniture, sometimes, also entails succession to power and office and not merely rights to tangible possessions. In other words, the Firstborn right can be onerous, demanding and carry responsibilities - a dutiful task suited for only a few selected ones. In early times, the Firstborn would substitute the father and was honoured accordingly. In ancient Egypt, for instance, Firstborns were revered and worshipped like gods. Hence the significance of the tenth plague, the plague of the Firstborn since according to our sages when G-d avenges upon a nation, He initially avenges upon its gods.

It is indeed true that when Yaakov asserts “I am Esav, your Firstborn,” (Bresheet 27:19) he not only lies, but he also commits fratricide and condemns Esav to oblivion both as a human being and his rights to inheritance as well.

Several Jewish commentators offer various justifications for Yaakov’s lie. Isaac Abrabanel, for instance, suggests that Yaakov lamented to Esav that the latter was never around the house, always roaming in the fields and not fulfilling his duties as the Firstborn while he, Yaakov, had to attend to their sick father, feed him and Esav when the latter returned from his hunting. According to Abrabanel, Yaakov went even further to suggest to Esav that if he were not ready to assume that role, he would gladly take his place and feed him as should the eldest brother address the needs of the younger one. Esav, explains Abrabanel, pondered in his heart and decided that he was better off relinquishing those duties. Yaakov took them upon himself and promptly offered Esav bread and lentil soup, as would the Firstborn do to his younger sibling.

Rabbi Shmuel Ben Meir (Rashba”m) provides a different rationale. According to him, Esav was willingly renouncing his Firstborn right claiming that his hunting activities often put him in harm’s way. Therefore, he reckoned, there was no point in him waiting for his father to die to qualify for that right.

Finally, Rabbi Sacks, who bases his interpretation on Rashi, suggests that as much as Esav tried to deceive Yitzchak, the latter “was not deceived as to the nature of his elder son. He knew what he was and what he was not. He knew he was a man of the field, a hunter, a mercurial in temperament, a man who could easily give way to violence, quickly aroused to anger, but equally quickly, capable of being distracted and forgetting. He also knew,” concludes Rabbi Sacks that Esav “was not the child to continue the Covenant.”

It is, therefore, not by accident that Yitzchak preferred Yaakov over Esav.

This week’s Parashah teaches us that leadership should not necessarily be granted to the Firstborn son but rather to the best one.

Shabbat Shalom

Vayera – A Lesson in Hospitality, Manners, and Personal Relationships

 

This week’s Parashah, “Vayera” recounts two stories. The first stresses Avraham’s humanness and kindness which is rewarded by the blessed promise of eternity. The second shares the tale of the wickedness and evil acts of the people of Sedom and Amorah followed by their punishment.

I elected to dwell on the first part which, I feel, has not been accentuated enough. I did it in the hope that its message and lesson will emanate and continue to fill our universe with every blessing.

The opening scene of the Parashah describes Avraham sitting at the entrance to his tent when G-d appears to him. The text mentions that it was an especially hot day. The purpose of G-d’s visit or what is being discussed is not mentioned. Some commentators suggest that G-d is performing the Mitzvah of “Bikur Cholim” (visiting the sick) to check on Avraham’s recovery after he had circumcised himself at the advanced age of ninety-nine (Chapter 17).

Suddenly, Avraham notices three men standing at a distance as if deliberating which way to turn. Avraham does not yet know that they are messengers (mala’chim) of G-d, nor does he know the purpose of their visit. To him, they are nothing but three strangers who seem stranded and lost. Nevertheless, despite his age, his, still, delicate physical condition, and the heat, he runs towards them, bows down, invites them into his tent and offers them food, drink, and respite.

Avraham’s words in Chapter 18 verse 3 “If I have found favour in your eyes, my Lord, do not pass your servant by,” can be interpreted, according to Rashi, in two ways.

The first, and most important, can be viewed as Avraham’s speaking to G-d with the intent of showing his respect to Him. G-d’s visit should be of top priority and attended to first. After all, it is not everyday one gets bestowed with such a great honour and such a privilege. To neglect G-d and attend to unfamiliar people would be rude and show lack of mannerism on the part of Avraham. He, therefore, excuses himself and apologizes to G-d before attending to the strangers.

There is, however, another angle of looking at this verse. This one points at Avraham’s hospitality and generosity. Avraham is almost begging the strangers to be his guests and enter his modest abode where he and Sarah welcome them warmly and affectionately. While Sarah is preparing and baking bread, the Torah tells us that Avraham “ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it. He then,” the account continues to share with us, “brought some curds and milk… and set these before them.” (18:7-8).

Moreover, as we are told, “While they ate,” Avraham, “stood near them under the tree. Now, do not Avraham’s conduct and attitude display the epitome of kindness?

But it is not only towards G-d and strangers that Avraham and Sarah show respect and thoughtfulness. They also demonstrate it towards each other, as the Parashah continues to unveil to us.

When the messengers ask to see Sarah to announce to her that she will bear a son in a year’s time, Sarah, who “was listening at the entrance of the tent, which was behind him…….laughed to herself as she thought, ‘After I am worn out and my lord is old, will I now have this pleasure?’” (18:10,12).

Evidently, Sarah did not know that G-d had already shared this news with Avraham earlier. In Chapter 17, G-d tells Avraham, “I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her.” (Verse 16). Upon hearing that, “Avraham fell face down; he laughed and said to himself, ‘will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety?’” (Verse 17).

Both Avraham and Sarah respond by first describing themselves as old and worn out and only then mention that their respective spouses endure a similar existence. They assume responsibility for their condition first and do not point a blaming finger at the other, an instinctive trap that so many of us fall into easily. What a blessed connection and bond they share. What a wonderful example for a marital relationship, or for that matter, any relationship.

May we all continue to be blessed through Avraham, the father of many nations and Sarah, the mother of Am Yisrael our Jewish People.

Shavua tov, fellow Jews and a great week to all.

A Memorable Dream

 

               “A good dream is a good gift.” – Reuven Alcalay

               “Dreams do not die if they bloomed once in your soul.” – Jacob Fichman

All of us dream, at least once in our lifetime.

Some remember their dreams, others forget. There are those who visualize the same dream repeatedly and there are those whose dreams are etched on their brains. Such dreams can be either haunting or comforting.

The one I am about to share with you belongs to the latter group.

My late father passed away in 1994. As I have mentioned more than once, he was a very constitutive figure in my life.

A Shoah survivor, who came out of the abyss, my father was what I would call a “Tzdik” (a righteous man). He never drifted from his faith in G-d. Every Shabbat, after coming back from the synagogue, instead of resting, he taught me G-d’s Torah and the wise words of our Jewish elders.

During the week, my father, who owned a small butcher shop, would get up at the crack of dawn, harness his horse to his cart, take chickens to the slaughterhouse and ensure that they are all ready and prepared by the time he opened his shop.

That, however, never stopped him from acquiescing to my request to stay with me a little longer on days that I had tests, review and go over the material with me, to ensure that I am ready for them. I drew so much comfort from his support and invigorating patience.

On Fridays, he would keep his shop open, albeit not for profit. Friday was a charity day. All that was left over from the week went to those who needed to prepare a Shabbat meal yet could not afford to pay.

Following a fall which left him debilitated, he spent his last days on this earth in a hospital. He was in his 90’s.

When the call bearing the sad news of his passing away arrived, I drove like a mad woman to the hospital. His body was still warm when I kissed his forehead and whispered to him, “Dad, G-d has prepared a special place for you next to His Throne of Glory.” I could swear he was smiling at me, for a split second.

Fast forward to September 1996.

I was then on my way to New Zealand. I briefly fell asleep on the plane. That is when the most awe-inspiring dream occurred.

In it, I saw my father. He was all skin and bones and naked, save for an ivory-coloured piece of cloth covering his groin. He was standing on stairs ascending to an unknown place and facing me who was at the bottom of them. His weak body was so fragile that he was supporting himself, with his right hand, on a rail that was connected to nowhere. He slowly raised his left hand, and waved goodbye to me.

Suddenly, from behind him, a very bright light glared, flashing brightly and powerfully. It blinded me. It also woke me up from my reverie.

I was calm, and I was happy. Somehow, I knew that my father had finally reached that special place which G-d prepares and reserves for the selected ones only.

Rest in Peace, abba.

My first grandson, may he live a long life, is named after you. Your legacy will always stay with us.

Shabbat Shalom

Ha'azinu, Moshe's Farewell Poem

 

                   “The story of the Hebrew Bible as a whole…..is of a progressive withdrawal of divine intervention and the transfer of responsibility to human beings.” – Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

In this week’s Parasha, Ha’azinu, Devarim (Deuteronomy) 32, Am Yisrael are about to enter the Promised Land. The desert era is nearing its end, and Moshe is at death’s door. From now on, they are on their own. Moshe knows them well. He has experienced their impatience, faithlessness, and dependence on him and, of course, on G-d. For forty years of wandering in the desert, they have been provided with food and water. For forty years their complaints were heard and addressed while they repeatedly demanded to return to Egypt when they lost trust in G-d.

Moshe, like any great leader, the magnificent teacher that he has been to them, is, naturally, worried about what lies ahead, a new land with unique and very different circumstances than what they have been used to.

These concerns prompt him to compose his final speech in the form of poetry which he delivers poignantly, reminding Am Yisrael of their unending Covenant with G-d. In a passionate fashion he enlists the heaven and earth as his eternal witnesses, hoping to provide Am Yisrael with the essential means to complete that hard, yet very important journey upon which they are about to embark.

There are two vital concepts which Moshe’s poem stresses. The first is the importance of memory. The second is what Rabbi Sacks refers to in the quote above as “G-d’s call to responsibility.” Retrospection is a crucial phase which should precede and eventually lead to accountability.

Moshe reminds Am Yisrael of the eminence of G-d and what He has done for His People. “Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations; ask thy father, and he will declare unto thee, thine elders, and they will tell you” (32:7). He urges them to recall G-d’s dedication to them, “As an eagle that stirreh up her nest, hovereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her pinions” (32:11). “Is He not thy father that hath gotten thee? Hath He not made thee, and established thee?” (32:6)

And this is where accountability enters the equation. Rabbi Sacks echoes Moshe’s words, “G-d is our father,” says Sacks, “He made us and established us. But parents,” he adds, “cannot live their children lives.” At some stage, the umbilical cord that connects them to their parents needs to be cut off and they need to learn to live on their own. As Rabbi Sacks further suggests, when that time comes, parents “can only show them, by instruction and love, how to live.”

What, then, is a better way, than the Torah, to instruct Am Yisrael how to live a rewarding life?

Before he steers Am Yisrael to the Torah as the source of instruction and guidance, Moshe admonishes and warns them against expressing any future ingratitude to G-d in return for all the good He has done for them. “But Yeshurun [poetic name for Yisrael] waxed fat, and kicked—thou didst wax fat, thou didst grow thick, thou didst become gross—and he forsook G-d who made him and contemned the Rock of his salvation” (32:15).

After a long sequence of the words and terms of the Covenant, reproof, encouragement and blessing, Moshe concludes his words and directs Am Yisrael towards the Torah, its laws and moral code, all of which were given to them, not for G-d’s sake but for their sake. The Torah is the way to enjoy a good and long life, he reminds them. Following its guidelines will help them in shaping their own destiny and ensure that they remain free, the fundamental desire of every human being.

“But with freedom comes responsibility,” concludes Rabbi Sacks.

And that is the ultimate message of Moshe’s final song.

May we all savour the gift of Life and enjoy a meaningful, productive, and fulfilling life in the coming year and always.

 

“We Shall Ascribe Holiness to This Day”

 

The titular quote is derived from a Hebrew Piyyut (liturgical poem), “Unetaneh Tokef,” recited by Jews on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

As a child, I remember joining my father to attend Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services. I also recall the tears rolling down my father’s cheeks when this prayer was recited. It was then that I began to grasp its solemn meaning and magnitude.

In it, Judgement Day is described in a succinct and powerful way. The depiction of G-d, the ultimate judge, sitting on His bench examining our deeds and ruling on our fate for the coming year, sends shivers through the body and soul of the faithful.

Though some suggest that the piyyut was written before the tenth century C.E., others attribute it to Rabbi Amnon of Mainz (11^th century).

According to the account, Rabbi Amnon was urged by the bishop of Mainz to convert to Christianity. He requested to be given three days to consider the bishop’s offer. Soon thereafter, Rabbi Amnon regretted not having refused the proposal for apostacy promptly and did not appear at the bishop’s place on the agreed time.

When he was finally brought, against his will, in front of the bishop, Rabbi Amnon requested that his tongue be cut out for not refusing to convert instantly. Instead, his limbs, which did not bring him on the set time, were chopped.

When he was brought to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, he asked to pray and at that time composed the piyyut.

Despite the intense message of this prayer, G-d is still described as the merciful judge who recognizes the weaknesses of human beings. The poem juxtaposes the ephemeral nature of our existence as opposed to G-d’s perpetuity. Unlike G-d who has “no limit to His years,” “no end to” His years and “no measure to the hosts of” His “glory,” we, humans, are “like dry grass, a withered flower,” a “passing shadow and a vanishing cloud.”

G-d, the benevolent, understands the fragility of humans and as the piyyut suggests does provide us with hope and allows us to avert the harsh decree of the penalty of death. He, as always, gives us another chance.

According to our wise sages, three things can avert G-d’s ruling, “prayer, charity and repentance.” (Bresheet Rabba 42:12). All three, according to Rabbi Yudan, in the name of Rabbi Elazar, are mentioned in one verse, “When My people, who bear My name, humble themselves, pray [prayer], and seek My ways [charity] and turn from their evil ways [repentance], I will hear in My heavenly abode and forgive their sins and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles, 7:14).

May we have a good year, Am Yisrael and fellow Jews, a year of repentance, abundant with good deeds, forgiveness, and the healing of our fractured Jewish Homeland.

Mitzvot, a Code for a Better Tomorrow

 

“If you are not a better person tomorrow than you are today, what need have you for a tomorrow?” – Rabbe Nachman of Breslov

This week’s Parasha, “Ki Tetze” contains the largest number of Mitzvot in all the five books that compose the Torah. In contrast to last week’s parashah which addressed the appointment of public officials and their duties, this one focuses on private matters of individual, familial and neighbourly nature.

Rabbi Saadiah Gaon, (“Book of Beliefs and Opinions,” Chapter 3) divides the Mitzvot into two kinds. The first are the intellectual kind. These are the ones we can understand rationally and see the benefit of following them or abstaining from performing the ones we are prohibited because we recognize their denigrating or disparaging nature.

The second kind are a G-dly decree and are beyond the grasp of humans. Rambam elaborates on that and adds that these are the kind of Mitzvot that only G-d, in His infinite wisdom, can discern. We, humans, unlike Him, are limited and lack, in our mental faculties, the ability to see their rationale and reason (Ramabam, “A Guide to the Perplexed,” part 3, chapters 21-28).

 The Mitzvot that are listed in this Parashah belong to the former kind. They cover a wide range of our lives as Jews and as members of humanity and are aimed at ensuring the proper functioning of society and keeping it whole and continuous.

The Parashah is situated in the middle of the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) and for a reason. It stresses what happened prior to it and what is about to happen in the future after Moshe is gone.  The Mitzvot are the elixir of Jewish Life. They are the axis of Jewish continuity. They define our past and are a guarantee to our future by providing us the tools and the guidelines to living and leading a more meaningful life. The Mitzvot and the Halachah are the key to understanding our Jewish essence as human beings. They provide an important foundation for a better as well as a rewarding tomorrow that is ingrained in them.

The first Mitzvah that the Parashah addresses is how to conduct oneself during war. According to Chaza”l, the enemy it refers to is not necessarily a national or physical enemy such as our Jewish People faces on a daily basis. It can also refer to the ongoing internal struggles that rage within us every day.

 The point raised by Chaza”l is reinforced by the fact that “Ki Tetze” is a Parashah that is read in the month of Elul, the last month of the Jewish year. During that month, we are expected to examine our conduct, resolve internal conflicts and assess how they are integrated in our general existence as human beings and our eternal Jewish chronicle.

Another Mitzvah, one I, personally, was unfailingly raised on and one I to adhere to is mentioned in verses 14-15: “Thou shalt not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren, or of thy strangers that are in thy land within thy gates. In the same day thou shalt give him his hire, neither shall the sun go down upon it; for he is poor, and setteth his heart upon it: lest he cry against thee unto the Lord and it be sin in thee.”

The moral obligation to pay promptly for labour performed was hammered into my brain since early childhood. “When, for instance,” my mother used to say, “you give a shoemaker a shoe to be repaired, while working on your shoe, he is already planning what he would do with the money you will pay him.” That is the logic behind such a very important decree.

There, as I stated in the past, are rewards and benefits to following the Mitzvot.

The Book of Mishlei (Proverbs), for instance, where the Mistvot are referred to as “your father’s instructions and your mother’s teaching” (1:8), likens them, in several verses, to jewels. In 1:9, it describes them as “For they shall be an ornament of grace to your head and chains around your neck.” These words of wisdom add elegance and beauty to the one who internalizes and follows them. In Mishlei 4:8-9, the wisdom and understanding of the Torah and the Mitzvot passed on to us by our parents, “will be a garland to grace your head and present you with a glorious crown.” They will add speldour and grandour to the wisdom that man learns throughout life. In the words of Rabbi Pinchas Bar Chama, “Wherever you go, the Mitzvot will follow you.” (Devarim Raba, 6).

The greatest and most important reward of the Mitzvot, however, is that the wisdom instilled in them will paint present and future life, for those who adhere to them, as more meaningful and fulfilling.

What is more important than a satisfying life? Could there be a better recipe for a long, gratifying life to all, especially the followers of a tradition which, above all, sanctifies Life, commands us to “Choose Life” and hang on to the “Tree of Life?”

May the promise of an improved world and a better tomorrow continue to emanate from those who follow the Mitzvot and those whose life they touch.

The Fire that Hardens the Egg, Melts the Butter

 

People who read my articles, occasionally, write to me asking about the level of my piety and Jewish observance.

Though I am not an observant Jew in the traditional sense of the word, I do believe, and very deeply, in G-d. I try to understand His wisdom, His teachings and accordingly live up to the role I have been destined to fulfill.

As I am sitting here, trying to grasp the enormity and the underlying messages of G-d in this week’s Torah portion, “Ki Tetze,” which I was first introduced to as a child, through my father’s teachings, I am yet again, thankful to have been born into such a great culture padded with so much insight and enlightenment. Its depth and wisdom are flabbergasting. The more I delve into it, the more I am left in awe.

It so happens that, in recent days, I have also been listening and watching a video where the mother of one of my childhood friends unfolds her horrific ordeals and misfortunes during the Shoah. She also shares experiences from her childhood where she was raised in a home steeped in Jewish tradition and customs and a staunch belief in G-d.

Auschwitz, unfortunately, "cured" her from her faith in G-d. That cursed place is where, for her, G-d existed no more.

That awareness, naturally, affected and determined the extent of Jewish education that my friend received at home. It was minimal if any, at all.

Like her mother, though, my late father had also been a survivor of the Nazi inferno.

Unlike her, however, and despite witnessing the horrible death of both his parents (burnt in the synagogue, along with other "useless" beings), as well as the untimely death of other family members, my father never lost faith in G-d. His motto was "G-d giveth and G-d taketh, may G-d's name be blessed." Somehow, I felt that the older he got, the stronger became his trust in G-d.

How else could my father, part of the remnant of the big fire, express his gratitude for his survival, for moving with my mother and brother to Eretz Yisrael, raising a family and living a long rewarding life?

Both my friend’s mother and my father were scorched by the same fire. They both came out of that experience different people, each with their own conclusions, resolutions, and world view. One melted, the other hardened. It is not my place to say which is which. I will leave it to each reader to decide that, should they wish.

Having said that, it is important to emphasize that one cannot and should never judge people for their decisions and choices. Each person holds life stories woven intricately which, jointly, make up the tapestry of their essence.  Each responds accordingly and reacts differently to similar experiences.

What I can and will continue to do is be obliged to my earthly father and the choices he had made, choices that had defined his Jewish substance which left its footprints on my core. Likewise, I will, forever, be beholden to my Heavenly father for that which I have and for that which I do not have. Both molded me and defined the terrain and the course of my physical and spiritual journeys through life.

 

Judaism and Monarchy

 

Upon entering Eretz Yisrael, Am Yisrael is instructed to “be sure to appoint over you a king the Lord your God chooses. He must be from among your fellow Yisraelites. Do not place a foreigner over you, one who is not an Yisraelite,” Devarim (Deuteronomy) 17:15.

This decree by G-d seems inconsistent with Shmuel’s displeasure and rejection of the demands of Am Yisrael to anoint a king over them when they challenge him “We want a king over us. Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go before us and fight out battles,” 1 Shmuel 8:19-21.

What seems to be the basis for this appeal to Shmuel, by Am Yisrael, is their apparent desire to be “like all the other nations.” In fact, that is the only form of ruling they had been exposed to before, both as former slaves and as a young nation. The long list of Pharaohs’ dynasties is what had been ingrained in their minds through the hundreds of years they had served as slaves in Egypt. Later, the terrain of their journey to Eretz Yisrael was mottled with kingdoms. That was the practice of governance throughout the ancient middle east. That is the only kind of authority Am Yisrael was familiar with. Their plea to Shmuel is merely to be no different than their neighbours. They had not yet mastered the idea of an invisible G-d, the king of kings, one that is both omnipotent and omnipresent.

G-d, in His wisdom, had anticipated the request or rather demand posed to Shmuel. G-d realized that it was forthcoming. There was, therefore, a need to prepare and forewarn Am Yisrael towards such an eventuality. This week’s parashah is establishing the model.

To ensure that the king does not abuse his power, there are restrictions appended to such an appointment. The parameters of such a designation, its boundaries and limitations follow the decree and are dictated in this week’s parashah (Devarim 17:16-17).

There are three restrictions imposed on the monarchy that Devarim sets up. The first is military and armament. “The king, moreover, must not acquire great numbers of horses for himself or make the people return to Egypt to get more of them, for the Lord has told you, “You are not to go back that way again.” Egypt, evidently, bred horses from the latter part of the 18^th dynasty and had the finest and most well-trained horses. In addition to pulling the king’s chariots, horses were deployed during wars. Having them in one’s arsenal was essential. G-d was concerned that in trying to upgrade his means of transportation and his military, the king may want to attain them from Egypt.

Such a necessity may force the Yisraelites to become dependent on Egypt, their former slave masters. That would defeat to whole purpose of God’s deliverance and the Exodus from Egypt. Though G-d has not forbidden Am Yisrael to build an army, its survival should depend primarily on their trust in G-d and not in human beings (especially those who had tormented them, as did Egypt), who can turn against them any time. Verse 16 states the prohibition to engage with Egypt very clearly, “You are not to go back there again.” Egypt, where kings were considered gods, is not only the enemy of the ancient Yisraelites, but also the enemy of G-d.

The second realm where a king may have much influence is in the diplomatic one. That parameter is expressed in the prohibition “He must not take many wives, or his heart will be led astray.” (Devarim 17:17).

The practice of marrying many wives was very common in ancient societies. Most of the royal courts included a harem which served as the dwelling place of the ruler’s wives, his concubines, their female attendants, and eunuchs, their guards. In many instances, kings added wives for the purpose of forging, reinforcing political alliances and securing political power through intermarriage between royal families. Moreover, in many harems, wives tried to maneuver themselves and their sons to secure high positions for them. This command serves to ensure that the king does not focus his attention on keeping his wives to safeguard his political pacts rather than attending to the needs of G-d’s People and His commandments.

The third delineated limitation is fiscal. Earthly kings may feel that they can exempt themselves from the laws that they create for their people. The temptation to amass their personal fortune is alluring to anyone who is in a position of power. The Yisraelite king is commanded to accumulate wealth for his nation and the benefit of his subjects only.

One very striking obligation that rests with the king is the one described in verses 18-19:
“When he takes the throne of his kingdom, he is to write for himself on a scroll a copy of this law, taken from that of the Levitical priests.  It is to be with him, and he is to read it all the days of his life so that he may learn to revere the Lord his G-d and follow carefully all the words of this law and these decrees.” Upon ascending the throne, the first command that the king is required conform to is obtain the original Torah scrolls that are in the custody of the priests and copy that document himself, word for word. He is then to keep it close by his side wherever he is.

The emphasis on the importance of the king copying the Torah by himself contains much wisdom. As any teacher knows, it has a pedagogical value. Through the act of copying, the king will come to a better understanding of G-d’s laws, enhance his adherence to them and serve as a role model to his people.

The law in Devarim, while sanctioning the appointment of a king, is designed to preserve the notion that G-d is the ultimate king of Am Yisrael. The human king is merely His representative on earth who is entrusted with the basic role of inspiring his subordinates to become closer to G-d, the King of the universe. In the words of the Talmud, “Royalty on earth reflects royalty in Heaven,” (Berochot 58a).

Shavua tov

 

Judaism and Scholarship

 

“Who is wise? He who learns from every person.”- Rabbi Ben Zoma (Pirkei Avot 4:1).

Learning and Education have always been a prime value in Judaism. Likewise, it was the fabric of my upbringing. “Study and Educate yourself,” my late mother repeatedly told me, quoting her own father’s words, “your scholarship is the only property no one will ever be able to take from you.”

The cultural centrality of learning was always part of my home environment. Since my late father was an observant Jew, Shabbat, and Holy Days, relieved from mundane duties, were dedicated to studying, furthering my Jewish education and knowledge. Every erev Shabbat or festive meal involved learning and had to have a Dvar Torah which included a verse from scriptures or the sages and structured in the form of question and answer. Occasionally, they laced with some funny stories or some anecdotes Those were some of the most memorable and precious moments.

The Mishnah, (Avot 3.3), goes as far as saying that a table where no Dvar Torah is shared is akin to eating from “the sacrifices of the dead.” Contrarily, a table where Dvar Torah is shared is comparable to G-d’s own table.

Scholarship and the empowerment of knowledge is also part of the three letter acronym that compose the word, Chabad (In Hebrewחב"ד  ). The abbreviation stands for the three forms of knowledge, Chochma – wisdom, Binah – comprehension and Da’at – knowledge.

Studying and learning are the source of knowledge. In many ancient societies and institutions such as in Mesopotamia, ancient Egypt, where writing involved many complicated symbols, these two were limited to the scribal class. That, according to Lord, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, resulted in “a hierarchical society,” where “only an elite will ever know how to read and write. They are the knowledge class,” concludes Sacks. In such societies, the burden of preserving and transferring knowledge, clearly, rested on a select few. Sacks also suggests that “the intervention of the alphabet was the birth of the possibility of universal literacy and the beginning of the end of hierarchical societies.

And this is where the ancient Yisraelites differ from other Peoples of antiquity. They had an advantage. According to Professor Douglas Petrovich, “the world’s oldest alphabet was actually an early form of Hebrew.” Petrovich uses “Numerous examples of inscriptions that not only pointed to Hebrew as the first alphabet, but also validate(s) the biblical account of the Israelites in Egypt.” (https://www.ancient-hebrew.org/alphabet/new-discoveries.htm).   Mastering the skills of writing and reading certainly made the task of learning and increasing literacy easier and more accessible to many.

The Jewish culture has always cherished learning and stressed the importance of passing it on from one generation to the next. Our sages could not emphasize enough the importance of learning. Every Jew is compelled to study, each according to their ability and skills and establish a fixed time to study Torah (M. Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Torah Study, Ch.1).

Already in the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy), 6:4, Am Yisrael is instructed to recite the Shema, the monotheistic dogma of the Jewish faith. Moreover, in Devarim 6:7, we were commanded to teach it to the young ones, day, and night, wherever they are, at home or on the road, “You shall teach them diligently to your children and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.” The duty to pursue learning was a never-ending one.

Torah is more than what we know as the “Five Books of Moses.” The foundation texts in the Jewish culture include the entire Tanach and the Talmud, compiled between the first and seventh centuries. The Talmud is comprised of the oral tradition as well as debates, commentaries and insights of the sages aimed at helping us perceive and discern G-d’s teachings and how to apply them in our daily lives.

Noting the importance and above all the imperative of Torah study, the Babylonian Talmud went as far as saying that “the study of Torah is equal to all the other commandments,” (Shabbat 127a).

It is essential to mention that Torah study is not limited to a specific age. When Rabban Gamliel declared “Provide yourself a teacher,” it was with the intention that one should continue the learning process through one’s life, under the guidance of a teacher regardless of age or social standing (Pirkei Avot 1:16).

The duty of studying the Torah is also reinforced in Joshua 1:8, “This Book of Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it.”

There are rewards attached to such an undertaking, as the last part of the verse states, “For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.” The Midrash even argues that Torah can be compared to water. Just as our physical subsistence depends on water, our very spiritual, moral, and educational growth begins and ends with Torah.

Furthermore, according to Rabbi Meir, “anyone who involves himself in Torah for its own sake merits many things, and, moreover, the entire world is worthwhile for his sake.” (Pirkei Avot 6:1).

Although this article merely scratches the surface of the vast subject of Judaism and scholarship, one should not be surprised when Benjamin Nathans (Nathans B. Beyond the Pale: The Jewish encounter with Late Imperial Russia. Berkeley: University of California Press; 2002. Pp.111-13) infers that literacy rates and levels have generally been higher in Jewish communities than those of other groups among whom Jews dwelled.

Shavua tov to all fellow Jews. May it be a week of joy, abundant health, saturated with learning and growth.

"The Fewest of All Peoples"

 

“The LORD did not set His love upon you, nor choose you, because ye were more in number than any people--for ye were the fewest of all peoples,” Devarim 7:7.

This verse, as the Torah cites, states that one of the reasons, if not the main one, as to why G-d elected Am Yisrael, gave them the Torah and declared them to be to be His “first born son,” which in Biblical times bore great significance, especially in matters of inheritance.  In a way, it is our smallness, so it seems, that has defined our essence.

In addition to providing the reason for choosing Am Yisrael, the verse is also a prediction, a form of prophecy. Judging by Jewish history, our tiny size is how it has always been and how, so it seems, it was always meant to be, and I doubt that there is a person who would not recognize the reality that Jews are indeed but a small sliver of humanity, a mere speck among the nations.

Before anyone jumps at me and claims that such “choseness” implies some kind of elitism, a religious or “racial superiority” (Mordechai M. Kaplan, Judaism as a Civilization), let me suggest that nothing could be further from the truth. Such an assertion would go against any of the highest ethical values and ideals prescribed by the Torah, which, according to tradition, is the word of G-d. Furthermore, lest some feel superior and conclude that since Yisrael was singled out, others were rejected, the prophet Amos, in an effort to curtail such arrogance, declared, “Concerning the whole family that I brought up from the land of Egypt: You alone have I singled out of all the families of the earth—That is why I will call you to account for all your inequities,” (Amos 3:2).

In my last article, I mentioned the Midrash which explains that G-d peddled the Torah among other nations that existed at that time. As the Midrash further states, they all refused. When He reached Am Yisrael, they responded unanimously, “we shall abide, and we shall listen,” (Shemot 24:3).

Israel Zangvill explains the matter of “choseness” most aptly. According to him, “It is not so much a matter of the chosen People as the choosing People.” This suggests a process of reciprocity. There are strings attached to the “choseness.”

The most important one is invariably linked to a telos, more precisely, a spiritual vocation.

According to Yehezkel Kaufmann, the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah perceived G-d’s choice of Am Yisrael as a means to a final end. The choice, which includes Torah, Shabbat, Mitzvot, sanctity of Life and service to G-d is for the purpose of teaching monotheism, removing idolatry, suppressing human arrogance, ending wars, violence, greed lust and building a better world for all humanity. This is clearly expressed in the directive mentioned in Vayikra (Leviticus) 19:2, “You shall be holy, for I the Lord, your G-d, am holy.” Prior to that, in Shemot 19:2, G-d instructs Moshe to speak to Am Yisrael and tell them: “you shall be to me a kingdom of priests.”

Our wise sages interpreted these two verses to mean, “You must consider yourselves part of the King’s retinue and emulate Him. Just as He is compassionate and merciful, so shall you be.” [Sifra (ed. Weiss), p. 86b]. This is the core of reciprocal holiness. Piety and becoming “G-d - like” requires the chosen to engage in imitatio dei.

Another reason for our minuteness being such an important factor in defining our Divine role rests in the message delivered by the annals of history.

Being so small in numbers, our Jewish People should have, according to laws of logic, history, and nature, disappeared either through persecution or assimilation. Our ongoing presence is a miracle. The fact that we have not only survived all the harsh onslaughts, past and present, but that we have also thrived, impacted, and contributed to world civilization is a living testimony to the existence of G-d and His Divine promise to Jews, in particular, and mankind, in general.

Shavua tov, Am Yisrael and a wonderful week to all.

The Ten Commandments

 

A bird’s eye view of the Torah will reveal to us that there are two sets of the Ten Commandments. One can be found in the Book of Shemot (Exodus), chapter 20, rendering the original version delivered by G-d to Moshe. The other, in the Book of Devarim (Deuteronomy), chapter 5, is where Moshe reviews the Torah and stresses its centrality and the centrality of the Ten Commandments in the life of Am Yisrael.

A closer look at the two texts will show some differences between their versions.

It is important to note that these differences are not merely semantical. Some have very practical implications. For instance, in the Book of Shemot, it states, “Remember the Shabbat.” In Devarim, however, we are required to keep, to observe the Shabbat and abstain from performing certain chores and tasks which may interfere with our rest, the main goal of Shabbat.

Likewise, the tenth commandment, in Shemot, instructs us not to “covet” that which is not ours and not engage in any act to obtain it. In Devarim, Moshe adds the word “desire,” which in addition forbids us from even, covertly, entertaining the thought.

Naturally, one may ask, if Moshe closely and accurately repeats the words of G-d, how did these differences emerge?

Some of them have specific explanations such as the well-known explanation of Chaza”l which states “remember and observe were required in one commandment.” (Babylonian Talmud, Shavuot Tractate, Leaf C, Page B). According to Chaza”l, at Mount Sinai, G-d said both words, miraculously, at once. Chaza”l further add that in documenting the Commandments in the Torah, one of each was selected each time.

Another explanation is given in the Midrash where it states that the two versions are in accordance with the two sets of the tablets that were given to Am Yisrael. The one appearing in Shemot is the one written on the original tablets which Moshe shattered after the sin of the Golden Calf, whereas the one in Devarim is the one carved on the second set given to Moshe when he went back to Mount Sinai to ask forgiveness for Am Yisrael.

Several years ago, I wrote an article where I suggested that the Torah and the Ten Commandments are a manual which is composed of two parts. One part is that which contains the Mitzvot for Am Yisrael only. The other is the moral code it preaches which is both for Am Yisrael and the world.

There is a Midrash that supports my assertion. That Midrash tells us that prior to Mount Sinai, G-d offered the Torah to all nations, and they rejected it, until He reached Am Yisrael who embraced it. On that basis, one may surmise that the original account of the Ten Commandments, in the Book of Shemot, was created for non-Jewish recipients, the nations to whom G-d proposed the Torah first, while the Devarim version was meant for Am Yisrael and Jews only.

This might explain why in Shemot, the commandment regarding Shabbat is to “remember” the Shabbat and in Deuteronomy, the requirement is to “observe” it. Additionally, in the Book of Shemot, the reason given for the requirement to remember the Shabbat is the creation of the world in six days whereas in Devarim, comes, instead, the story of the Exodus from Egypt which is pertinent to Am Yisrael only.

Another reason for the difference, I believe, lies with the fact that forty years have passed between the two versions. During that time, Am Yisrael which started its desert journey as former slaves, has matured, and possibly also become riper and readier to internalize G-d’s message and lesson. Moshe, the great teacher must have grasped it. He probably recognized that the lesson taught on Mount Sinai needed to be processed, and certain parts of it, perhaps, needed stressing, more than other ones, and, thus, edited some of the commandments in order to help facilitate the implementation and execution of the Mitzvot.

Whatever the reason for the differences between the two mentioned versions, one fact remains clear. Moshe understood that any lesson, especially one as important as that of the Torah, needs to be repeated and reinstructed or else no learning will be accomplished.

Shabbat Shalom to you, fellow Jews and Am Yisrael and a meaningful weekend to all

 

The Eighth Day

 

                                                                 “And it came to pass on the eight day, that Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel…”

This week’s Parashah (Torah portion) is called “Shmini” (The Eight), Leviticus 9:1 through 11:47. It addresses various topics. Among them, it relates the tragedy that befell Aharon’s two sons.

 The issue I wish to address in this article is the one concerning the consecration of the Mishkan (God’s dwelling place).

The seven days in which Moshe performed all the necessary tasks preparing for the consecration of the Mishkan are over. On the eighth day, he summons Aharon and his two sons to, officially, pass on to them the scepter of priesthood.

I want to share with you, dear readers, a different perspective on this subject, one that the titular name evoked in me.

Years ago, I saw a French movie called “The Eighth Day.” It unfolds the story of a professional man, named Harry who becomes a workaholic. The money he earns affords him the pursuit of many materialistic gratifications. Harry drives a nice car. He buys a spacious and beautiful house full of precious items. Unfortunately, it is devoid of warmth or inviolability. It is just a house, not a home.  His family nucleus begins to disintegrate. His wife leaves him taking their two daughters and he becomes a recluse and very unhappy.

It is at one of his most difficult moments that Harry meets and befriends Georges, a young down syndrome man. Georges becomes his spiritual director. He guides Harry through a healing process. He helps him slow down and teaches him the importance of appreciating the natural world around us. Eventually, Harry reunites with his family and they live happily ever after.

Unfortunately, as is the case with most down syndrome victims, Georges dies at a young age. As the angels are carrying his soul to heaven, the narrator recounts the story of the creation in Genesis day by day. “And on the Sabbath, G-d rested,” he tells us, “looked at his world and thought ‘what is missing in my world?’ So,” the narrator concludes, “on the eight day, He created Georges.”

The eighth day, mentioned in this Parashah, derives its name, “Shmini,” from the very first verse which states: “And it came to pass on the eight day, that Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel…” On this day, The Mishkan is consecrated.

Unlike the narrative presented in the movie that I mentioned above, on the Seventh Day of creation, when G-d rested, he had already known what was missing in His world. He had already known what had to occur on the Eight Day. For six days He had been working on creating a world for us, humans, a perfect dwelling place, a world to satisfy our physical needs and existence. G-d, in his wisdom, did not want us to end up like Harry in the story above. He knew that the physical universe He had created was just a house. It needed to become a Home, a place that would include a spiritual dimension, righteousness and morality, a place where we, its dwellers, would be blessed with an appreciation for the gifts of life bestowed upon us by Him.

What was, therefore, needed to be formed on “The Eight Day” was a dwelling place for G-d, among us. It would have been the missing piece, the one that would make His creation complete.

 Naturally, some may argue that G-d, the omnipotent, could have, himself, created “the Eight Day” merely by speaking, just as he had done on the previous six days. Why, then, didn’t He?

In order to answer this question, let me take you back to the Book of Shemot (Exodus), more specifically Chapter 25 verse 8, where G-d tells Moses, “Then have them make a sanctuary for me, and I will dwell among them.” The task of building a dwelling place for G-d, not only amidst them but in them, in their heart, is upon Am Yisrael. ( I refer you to an article I wrote on the subject last year: https://wingnsonawildflight.blogspot.com/2020/02/terumah-building-tabernacle-within-us.html)
Only then would the world be the Home that G-d had intended it to become for us and through us, for humanity.

"The Eight Day" in G-d’s plan, therefore, is the day on which the Tabernacle, which Bezalel, who was blessed with the wisdom of the heart designed and which Am Yisrael together contributed to and jointly built. It is the day in which the spiritual universe, which G-d had planned for us to built for ourselves, bonded and merged into one with the physical world that He had set up in Genesis.

 It is our duty to ensure that the Eighth Day and what it stands for remains an inseparable part of the rest of the week. We need to preserve it as G-d had intended it to be, not just a “house” but a “home,” as well. It is the only means to heal and restore that which has become, in the words of the late Lord Rabbi Sacks, “a fractured world.”

Shavua tov