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.

Shivah – Paying Homage to The Living, Not the Dead

 

Special thanks go to Roger Froikin for his assistance and advice.

Many of us have heard the Hebrew term “Shivah” (seven) which is the first stage of mourning in Jewish tradition. The others include, the first thirty (“Shloshim”) days counting from the burial and the one-year period from the day of death.

 Shivah is the course of the seven days (or less if interrupted by a Holy Day or Shabbat) following the burial of a family member. This custom had existed even before the giving of Torah and can be traced to Bresheet 50:10 where Yoseph declared seven days of mourning following the death of Ya’akov, his father.  The Jerusalem Talmud states that it is an enactment of Moshe, “just as Moshe enacted seven days of rejoicing after marriage, so, too, he enacted seven days of mourning (shivah).” (Jerusalem Talmud, Ketubot 1:1)

Unfortunately, some, especially some of our fellow Jews, as I found out, merely a few days ago, are vaguely familiar with or understand, the depth of the concept and its purpose.

A dear friend shared with me that when her late father passed away, it was her mother’s wish that they refrain from sitting Shivah following his burial. Naturally, I raised my eyebrows and before I was able to utter a word, she added, “It is ok, we, immensely, respected him, anyway.”

As a staunch believer in practicing liberties, especially Freedom of choice, I elected to remain silent. I was, however, deeply disturbed by her lack of knowledge and comprehension of the intent of such a practice.

It is important to note that once the Shivah begins, it is the mourners who become the focus of attention. Naturally, these are not easy days. The grief of the loss of a dear one is heart wrenching, emotionally and physically draining and takes a toll on the ones close to the deceased. It is during such times that the community is there to support them, help them and comfort them.

In Judaism, it is a Mitzvah to visit friends and relatives who are sitting Shivah. A Mitzvah is not merely a “good deed.” It is not something one is supposed to do just because Torah tells us to do. It is an act that is intended to do good to its performer. Supporting a relative, a friend or an acquaintance who is in need is a sign of true friendship.

Comforting the mourner, however, does not mean distracting them from the misfortune that they had been through. Being surrounded with visitors who through talking and speaking about the loved one they lost provides the mourners with soothing help and assistance in the healing process and the reconciliation with reality.

Most importantly, The practice of Shivah is aimed at aiding to restore and support a healthy psychological response to mourning and loss. This period serves as a distraction from the negative emotions of the mourning stage that the remaining family members must endure. It removes them from the regular daily duties and responsibilities of life.

Judaism is not the only faith that adheres to such a practice. Other peoples and other cultures have evolved similar effective means of dealing with the loss of loved ones.

There is plenty of research conducted in the last seventy years which links such a practice with good post-loss mental health, social adjustment, and job effectiveness.

So, we should continue to respect the dead, honour them, pay them homage, and continue to act in accordance with the lessons they have taught us in love.

But we need to remember that the custom of “Shivah” is for us, The Living, more than it is for them, the dead.

Shavua tov to all. May we all be blessed with abundant health and a long life.

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.

 

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

 

Usurpation

 

Dear friends,

While writing this article, I was debating with myself, wondering how, in a world overflowing with Political Correctness, it might be perceived. I felt, however, that my message needed to be shared.
I turned to my dear friend, Roger Froikin, who not only backed me on that but also helped by providing some historical perspective to the issue along with some facts in support of my argument.
Thank you Roger!

Those of you who know me are probably already aware of two principles or fundamentals that are the pillars of fire which guide me along my life’s path. The first, an axiom as far as I am concerned, the undeniable and innate right of Freedom of Choice be it religious, idealistic, economic, sexual or any other forasmuch as it does not encroach or infringe on that of others.

The second one, one I have voiced, on more than one occasion, is my stance against appropriation or usurpation (and thank you, Linda Olmert, for teaching me this term) of that which is unique and dear to one group or another such as flags or other distinctive emblems. I have expressed my displeasure with those who usurp symbols that define us as Jews and are ours only. I have quoted my dear friend Mohammad Kabiya, a Yisraeli Arab who expresses similar views when pro-Palestinian westerner activists, who have no personal or familial connections to the Arab world, wear a Kafiyah, a unique symbol to the Arabic culture, while advocating their cause.

Today, these two principles solidified when I realized that the LGTB flag not only uses the colours of the rainbow, but they also appear on it in the same order. I grasped it while looking at some baby outfits that had this image printed on them. While I saw the LGTB flag in that image, others perceived it as the impression of a rainbow.

On the one hand, as I stated above, under Freedom of Choice the LTGB movement has, just like any other group or faction, a right to define itself and practice its preferences. Like any other group, it has the right to select symbols or colours that it believes delineate its beliefs and are unique to it.

On the other hand, though, just as words have meaning that is best kept clear so we can better understand one another today and across generations, symbols – flags, religious items, or objects to which we have assigned meaning, need to convey that meaning clearly, to communicate their original intent for today and across time as well.

And herein is where my dilemma rests.

The Rainbow of colours, universally, across cultures and across time, has stood for hope, new beginnings, and promise. Already in the Torah, in the story of Noah, the rainbow was selected to signify a fresh start, a new era, and an optimistic outlook for a better future for humanity.

In the USA, at one point, Jesse Jackson adopted the rainbow symbol for his organization. His purpose was to indicate and convey hope in a nation of peoples of all colours and backgrounds as sort of an expression of the American “E Pluribus Unum” (one from many), the motto proposed by John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson, for the Great American Seal of the United States by John Adams, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson in 1776, suggesting that everyone was equal and part of one new nation.

More recently, I feel, the image of the rainbow has been usurped, yet again, not to be that symbol of hope for all, nor that symbol of diversity in union that Jesse Jackson promoted. It has become a politicized symbol of one group’s agenda,  a tool for political propaganda to which dissent is disallowed.  

I do not mind that the LGTB movement selected the same hues as those of the rainbow. They are bright, beautiful, and cheerful.  The rainbow is a widespread symbol which belongs to each member of humanity.  It should not, in my view, be exclusively associated as the symbol of one specific group or another, and surely not used as a political statement on a child's clothing.  This, I feel, is a usurpation at its purest forms.

Unfortunately, these days, we are witnessing similar trends and efforts to wipe away history and replace it with ideology. Words are changed in meaning. Symbols are discarded or reassigned for political purposes, all in the name of dogma and creed.  Communication is hampered, not facilitated, across generations.  Lenin spoke of doing this in the interests of socialism.  Mao went further saying that the past is gone.  The Taliban blew up statues they claimed were offensive, destroying ancient artifacts, and banning history and literature and even education for girls.  

The rainbow, a universal, and Biblical symbol of hope that belongs to every one of us should not be allowed to be reduced to a political game.

What next, then?  Can or should we expect that the next fashionable movement which comes along to play on the emotions of people will, likewise, use the rainbow, a motif that is, undeniably, affiliated with and belongs to us all, for its own purposes?

A Miracle called "The Jewish People"

 

“Every day, many a miracle happens to the sons of Israel. Were it not for G-d’s miracles, we should -Heaven forbid! – have perished long ago” – Yonatan Eibschutz

“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein

Our long and eventful Jewish history is without doubt a testimonial to the first quote. Channukah, but one example, is always reminiscent of G-d’s marvels, past and present. Our entire Jewish existence, I believe, is a unique phenomenon. Each Jew, irrelevant of whether they regard themselves as such or not, is a miracle.

Some Jews, unfortunately, fail to see their lives as such. They are the ones Einstein is referring to in the former part of his quote. Others, like myself, live our lives as Jews “as though everything is a miracle,” as though each and every one of us is a wonder on their own.

Before anyone jumps at me and accuses me of arrogance or practicing some form of  “Jewish elitism,” let me explain.

As many of my readers know, both my parents were Shoah survivors. To have come out of the abyss, from the netherworld, to have survived its infernal fires, to have been reborn, gather the shambles of one’s life and build a bigger better temple, raise a family and rebuild trust in a vile world is miraculous. That, coupled with resuming to live one’s life as though “everything is a miracle,” eventually turns one into a miracle.

The fabric of our Jewish history is woven with many such astounding stories. “Miracle” is our Jewish middle name.

Much to my dismay, though, some fellow Jews continue to regard our existence as the first part of Einstein’s words suggest. “We were always meant to be a small nation,” told me a Jewish acquaintance once when I bemoaned that we are losing too many Jews to assimilation. According to her, there is nothing miraculous about our two thousand years of enduring, persecution, pogroms, discrimination and forced conversion. These were, if I follow her logic, merely some milestones to ensure that we fulfilled our destiny to remain a small nation. What a slap in the face of our Jewish heritage such a view is. In her perspective, so it seems, we are just like everyone else, just a nation among the nations with no unusual history, no unique set of beliefs and no Torah. She is, of course, entitled to hold that belief.

I, however, refuse to prescribe to that kind of a notion. I believe in miracles.

I consider my parents’ survival and the survival of many of our Jewish brothers and sisters through hard and dangerous times, a miracle. Moreover, to have been born to a miracle, by default, makes one a miracle. I am a daughter of two miracles. Hence, my birth, my gift of Life is, itself, a miracle.

Furthermore, I hold the view that a miracle should never be wasted. To preserve one’s life as a miracle, one needs to recreate miracles, spend their time on this earth, strive relentlessly and act constantly in a way that would keep the miracle going.

In the words of our wise Talmud, “Hope for a miracle but don’t depend on one.” (Megillah 7b)

In other words, miracles do not just happen. One should never depend on them.

In my words, one should keep the faith, never give up and create a fertile ground for miracles to transpire. That, too, as our few millennia old Jewish history, has proven, is attainable .

May this Channukah season be full of miracles and every blessing to all

G-d, Parents and Children

 

Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish New Year. On that day are all supposed to be in a festive mood, dress in white and, of course, blow the Shofar (ram’s horn).

What many do not know is that, on Rosh Hashanah, we skip the magnificent Torah portion, “Ha’azinu” in Devarim (Deuteronomy) 32. Instead, we read from Parashat “Vayera” in Bresheet (Genesis).

Vayera, which is read, in parts, over the two days of Rosh Hashana, narrates the birth of Yitzchak, the son of Avraham and Sarah, the banishment of Hagar and her son, Yishmael, and ends with the binding of Yitzchak.

G-d, as we learn from it, remembers His promise to Sarah and blesses her and Avraham with a son, Yitzchak who is circumcised at the age of eight days.  Sarah, who is concerned about the future of her son demands that Avraham banish Hagar, her maid, along with, Yishmael, who Avraham sired. “Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not be heir with my son Isaac,” she tells Avraham in Bresheet 21:10. Avraham does not like it but listens to G-d who commands him to obey to Sarah. Avraham acquiesces and Hagar and her son end up in the desert and are, later, saved by an angel of G-d.

Many, myself included, have difficulties with this narrative. Although G-d stands behind Sarah’s decision, banishment into the desert is, still, a harsh verdict, particularly one that is executed by a parent, in this case Avraham.

Without underestimating or belittling the suffering of Hagar and Yishmael, which resulted from Avraham’s move, it is important to look at this episode in the context of practices in the ancient world where our narrative takes place. I am referring, particularly, to those pertaining to the inheritance rights of the son of a maid/slave in the circumstances of our story. These, as we learn, seem to be Sarah’s main concerns.

Rabbi Elchanan Samet suggests that for that purpose, we turn to the Hammurabi Code of Law which reflects the social and legal norms of that period, at least in Mesopotamia.

Article 170 of this Code states that if a man’s main wife bore his children and so 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 the rightful inheritors, his assets will be divided equally between all of his 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, Yishmael, to Avraham when Sarah thought that she was barren.  Yishmael was never the legal heir of Avraham.  Now that Sarah has her son, she is the Lady of the house and wishes to secure her son’s future and ensure that he is the sole inheritor. Avraham is old, and Sarah, the worried mother, wishes him to affix it while he is alive. Banishing Hagar is removing last hurdle that stands between her and her goal.

Nevertheless, should Hagar and Yishmael be “cast out” after all those years?

Avraham does not really “cast” her out. In chapter 21 verse 14, the Torah tells us that Avraham “sent her away.” There is a softening of the verb “cast” by replacing it with the verb “send” which, in a way, mirrors Avraham’s sentiments and the nature of his actions. In Biblical context sending away generally means releasing or letting go. The same verb “send,” incidentally, is also used in the Torah pertaining to the releasing of slaves. Might it be possible that this is what the case is here?

I turn, again, to the Hammurabi Code. Article 171 of it does address an issue similar to the one discussed here. According to it, if, while he is alive, the father does not will anything to his offspring from his maids or mistresses, then they will receive nothing. Following his death, the release of the maid and her children will be secured, and the children of the main wife will not turn them into slaves.

Since Avraham has already decreed that Yitzchak is his sole successor, we would expect that Hagar and Yishmael  will be freed, accordingly. In the act of “sending them away” Avraham is, as it seems, in accordance with the customs as practiced in his world, the ancient world. As far as “the desert” scene is concerned, let us not forget that entire land of Canaan was  a desolate wilderness in those days.

On the second day of Rosh Hashanah, we read the account of the binding of Yitzchak. It tells us that G-d commands Avraham to sacrifice his son, Yitzchak, to Him.

Sacrificing the first-born son to Molech, an Amonite deity worshipped also in Canaan, was common practice in ancient times. The Torah strongly condemns and forbids such a act. Avraham, again, as in the case of Hagar, accepts the verdict without protesting or questioning it. It is clear from the text (Chapter 22:1) that G-d was testing Avraham and the extent of his dedication to Him. Still, why did G-d choose that specific experience to put to the test Avraham’s devotion to Him?

It seems that G-d’s directive was not aimed to see whether Avraham was ready to slaughter his son. As mentioned above, in the context of the times, the practice was common and everyone sacrificing their son to Molech would have done it willingly.

The underlying cause for that stems from the deepest levels of Avraham’s faith in G-d. Throughout the exchanges between G-d and Avraham, G-d repeatedly promises Avraham that he will have great and powerful posterity. If Yitzchak dies, those promises will never be kept.

In my view, it is not only Avraham that is put to the test. In Avraham’s eyes, it is also G-d that is being assessed. Yet, he never complains, never questions, or protests the decree.

His unconditional faith in G-d, regardless of whether G-d keeps His promise to him or not, is what Avraham is put on trial for in this episode. Avraham did not fail and was blessed for it. Just as he was about to put the knife to Yitzchak’s throat, an angel called Avraham from heaven telling him to stop. A ram appeared in the bushes nearby and was sacrificed to G-d instead of Yitzchak. That is the reason we use a ram’s horn to make the Shofar.

The lesson of this Parashah is clear. Life is going to present us with many challenges and rattling experiences where we will need to make hard choices. As long as we, old and young, parents and children adhere to our belief in G-d, choose Life, do Justice and practice Hope, we shall always prevail.

May we all have a great year padded with abundant health and only good news.

Three Mountains, Two Different Ceremonies

This week’s Parasha, “Ki Tavo,” opens with two Mitzvot which are practiced in Eretz Yisrael only. Both are connected to the Land.

The first is the directive to bring the First Fruits of the Land to the Temple in Yerushalayim as a sacrificial gift.

The second is the mandate to observe a ritual dedicated to blessings and curses that are associated with the Mitzvot. It is to be performed immediately upon entering the Promised Land.

Most of Moshe’s words, in this Parasha, are reminiscent of his ongoing reminder of the importance of keeping the Mitzvot and the rewards and punishments that are attached to them. This idea is already echoed in his words earlier in Deuteronomy 11:26 where he says, “I am setting before you today the blessing and the curse”.  

Towards that end, Moshe designates two mountains in Eretz Yisrael. One is Eyval, “The Mountain of Curse,” the other is Grizim, “The Mountain of Blessing.” Moshe then outlines before Am Yisrael the exact details of the “The Blessing and the Curse” ceremony, in which they are all requited to physically partake.

The first part in that rite, which Moshe decrees in the name of G-d, is to take place on Mount Eyval. There, Am Yisrael is required to write the words of the Torah on big whitewashed stones.

Following that, the tribes are divided into two groups. Shimon, Levi, Yehudah, Issaschar, Yosef and Binyamin will stand on Mount Eyval. Reuven, Gad, Asher, Zevulun, Dan and Naftali will position themselves on Mount Grizim.

The Levites and the Kohanim will remain in the valley between the two Mountains. When they sanctify the People through the blessings, they shall turn to Mount Grizim, the Mountain of Blessing. When the curses are recited, they will turn to Moun Eyval. At the end of each, the People shall respond by saying “Amen.”

For me and perhaps for some of the readers, these events are reminiscent of another, very impressive, memorable, and most important milestone in our People’s history, the receiving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. The only obvious difference though is that in this case, we are dealing with two mountains instead of just one, as was the case there.

Is this really the only difference between the two events?

Not at all.

When Am Yisrael received the Torah, they had just recently been released from slavery. They were still confused by their sudden liberty, mesmerized and scared by the spectacular scene of the “thunder and lightning… and the “sound of the trumpet.” (Exodus 20:14) Few, if any, did understand the importance, the meaning and the gravity of the contract they had entered with G-d when they said: “we shall do, and we shall hear.”  (Exodus 24:7).

Moreover, until the decree to write the Torah on the stones on top of Mount Eyval Eyval, the Torah had been passed orally. As slaves who had just come out of Egypt, the Yisraelites did not know how to read or write, let alone understand the Torah when it was given to them at Sinai. Forty years of wandering in the desert, however, were expected to have rectified it. The former slaves can no longer only see, hear, and speak, they can also write. This is the first time, Am Yisrael, the People itself, every member of it, will have partaken in the task of recording the Torah in a written form.

As studies show, writing down anything is not only the more effective way to acquire, understand and assimilate new information, it also makes us remember as well as master it better.

The second and not less important difference is that unlike the event on Mount Sinai, where Moshe was the only one on the Mountain while the People were camping in the valley below, this time, it is Am Yisrael that is on a mountain and their leaders are situated below. Here, they are active participants in an event which amounts to reaffirmation of the contract that they made with G-d at Sinai, an experience which will surely leave its footprints on their essence.  

A third and very important difference is that, unlike the occasion of Mount Sinai which occurred in a foreign land and which may have faded from the memory of many members of Am Yisrael, Mount Eyval and Mount Grizim are here in Eretz Yisrael, their new and Home. They will serve as a visual, moral agent and an eternal reminder of the Covenant we entered with G-d at Mount Sinai.

Lastly and most importantly is how Am Yisrael responds in both ceremonies. At Mount Sinai, unlike here, Am Yisrael automatically responded “We shall do and hear,” to the decree of Mitzvot even though they may not have fully understood them and the weight they carry.

Here, however, Am Yisrael is directed to say “Amen” which is recited following the reading of the list of curses and blessings by the Kohanim and the Levites.  The Hebrew word, “Amen,”  which many translate as “so be it,” shares the same root with the words, trust, belief and faith.

That points to a huge leap from what we witnessed at Sinai. Since then, when Am Yisrael was at its infancy, our People have matured. Forty years of wandering in the desert, it seems, have equipped them with the right tools and are expected to understand G-d’s message, learn to assume responsibility, have better judgement, trust G-d, believe and have faith in Him.

Wishing all of you, Shavua tov and a great year ahead of us, a year of understanding cushioned with faith and trust in G-d and our leadership.

Amen!  🇮🇱🇮🇱🥰🇮🇱🇮🇱

Shabbat Nachamu

Shabbat Nachamu is the name of the first Shabbat after the Ninth of Av, which according to tradition, is when both Temples were destroyed. Its name is taken from Isiah 40:1, “Comfort, Comfort my People says your G-d,” which is the first verse of this week’s Haftarah

This Shabbat officially ends the three weeks of mourning which culminate with the fast of the ninth of Av. Its Parasha  aims at offering solace and consolation for the suffering our People endured as a result of their transgressions that preceded the destruction of the Temples.

I believe I first remember it being mentioned when I was seven years old. Though I am certain that “Shabbat Nachamu” had been mentioned many times before, it was only when I reached that age that I finally grasped their profound meaning.

For my parents and many other Jews, Shabbat Nachamu was the day on which they were liberated from the Nazi Death Machine. It ended the darkest chapter in our Jewish history.

Each time I heard them, and there were many, they scorched my Jewish essence forming yet another painful scar that refuses to heal.

As symbolic as the liberation of my parents and my unborn older brother which occurred on this Shabbat may be, I kept pondering on the reasons that brought about the destruction, Churban, which, incidentally, is what the Shoah is referred to in Yiddish, that befell them and their generation. What sins could my two wonderful parents have committed to have brought such a punishment upon them? What crimes could my young little cousins have possibly carried out before they perished in Ponar, I ask, as the waves of grief refuse to subside. I try to find some logic, some order, in the chain of “cause and effect,” in the great world that G-d once created for us.

Alas, no matter what, the answers evade me.

Instead of resuming to torment my soul, I have decided to focus on the future and the lessons that we could apply  towards it, lessons which our Jewish history has been trying so desperately to teach us.

As we are approaching the end of the period that is referred to as “between the straits” (bein hametsarim), the three weeks of mourning over the tragedies that befell our People over two thousand years ago, I look around me. I observe our People, “The People of the Book,” the ones who were destined to be “A Light unto the Nations,” their practice of our cherished values, or rather their lack thereof, I keep asking, have Jews learned anything from our sanguineous history?

We are still exercising vain hatred and continue to intensify that already deep divide among us, while our enemies continue to weave their web of design to destroy us. We adopt foreign customs, we name our children after foreign deities and worship the golden calf.

Am Yisrael and fellow Jews, time to wake up and look inside ourselves. This is where we shall find the answers to the why and the what that has befallen us.  Let us practice that which we gifted the world. It is time to shed off all masks and be true to ourselves first.

Let us console, support each other and unite during these hard and trying times. Let us defy all odds, pursue justice, and continue to live up to that which we are commanded to do and “Choose Life.” We owe it to ourselves  and to our future generations.

Better days are ahead of us and despite and in spite of it all, the People of Eternity is here to stay, in our Jewish Homeland, in Eretz Yisrael.

Am Yisrael Chai

Shavuot - An Ode to G-d

This article was written by Tal Gilad in Hebrew and translated into English by Bat-Zion Susskind-Sacks.

Disclaimer: the essay below represents the point of view of the writer only. It is not intended to offend anyone or aimed at entering debates over one’s religious beliefs or scientific point of view. He solely expresses his thoughts. Nothing more. Thank you.

Shavuot, the Holy Day on which the Torah was given to Am Yisrael, is here.

True, every religious belief or faith needs to be respected. I trust, however, that over one issue there is no dispute, Judaism is the source for the other widely practiced faiths – Christianity and Islam. At school they taught us that the uniqueness of Judaism is that it is the first monotheistic faith. They also explained to us the difference between the belief in one god and that in many gods. I feel that this is missing the core of the issue.

It was also said about Akhenaten that he was a monotheist since he believed that the sun is the only god. New studies raise the possibility that he was merely “substituting” the previous sun god without rescinding the others, or that he only diminished their significance. It not that crucial. The bottom line is that it is no big deal to believe in one god instead of a few. OK, one works alone, the other delegates, what difference does it make?

The wisdom and distinctiveness of Judaism, especially its earlier debut is that Judaism is a giant leap in the  perception of G-d, not only is He One and Only, He has no shape, He is all-powerful and infinite and the G-d of all of us. I stress, of ALL. He chose Am Yisrael, but He is also the G-d of all nations, including the enemies of Yisrael. Whether they choose to believe in him or nor, is their preference.

This stems from the understanding that one god cannot be restricted. The moment he is your god only, he becomes something terribly forceful. In other words, if you build a tower which reaches the heavens or if you train at the gym long enough or bring in the air force, you will be stronger than him.

If he has a shape, he is limited. If there is something that preceded him, as was the case with the Greek gods, he is limited.

Hence, one cannot utter His name, since the moment you give Him one, you limit Him to words and letters. He must, therefore, be omnipotent, He is everything, omnipresent and invariably everywhere, our G-d in Heaven and Earth.

Incidentally, it does not matter whether the world has been existing for 13 billion years or six thousand years. Both are numbers that enable us to quantify a concept that we cannot grasp since it is perpetual. Just as one says “god” to introduce a word to something self-explanatory, a notion which cannot be articulated, so one names a number in order to clench on to something. Just as the decree that north is up, and south is down. Why? Just because. I have swerved a bit. That is a different subject altogether, but in fact, still related.

With all due respect and sincerely, I am not belittling or lessening the significance and stature of Christianity and Islam.  On the contrary, they spread the belief in one god and thus contributed their share in raising the whole of mankind to a higher spiritual level. But the basic perceptions about the essence of G-d originate in Judaism. The rest are a product of the original and thy do not deny it. It is not a problem to construct a wagon. The problem is to invent the wheel since it forces one to exit the thinking mode to which they were used. The inventor is also the one who understands their invention and knows all the stages that led  them to that understanding, as opposed to someone who received it ready-made and applies to it all that they know and are familiar with in their world. Jesus was a Jew and probably never considered himself a god. His followers, however, conceived the idea of the holy trinity, partly in order to make their faith more accessible and more concrete. Therefore, observant Jews do not enter a church. In their eyes, the holy trinity is a form of idolatry. After all, how can one divide that which is infinite, formless, and baffling into three? Which three?

One can, of course, find numerous hints and aspects of “accessibility” in our writings starting  the creation of the world where G-d, allegedly, says something or rests on the seventh day since he was tired, through “let us create a man in our image” and more, there was a need for visualization. But the <<basic>> notion in Judaism is that “G-d is One,” stressing the principle that there cannot be more than one that is endless and everything. Nothing could be more than endless and all. This is the central principle in Judaism and if one does not accept it, one does not understand its essence. After all, it is inconceivable that Moshe would come down from Mount Sinai and say, “OK, the golden calf is also a god,” merely to keep everyone happy and quiet.

“We shall do, and we shall hear,” which Am Yisrael took upon itself upon receiving the Torah, is also derived from this sentiment. After all, that “all” cannot give anything bad, impossible. He will not negate the universe and everything He created, just like as in the “know it all” question, “can G-d create a stone that He cannot lift?” Funny. Can the heavyweight lifting world champion raise and hold in the air the chair that he is sitting on? No. The contradiction is not in the answer but in the question.

The Ten Commandments are ten basic principles for living in the company of human beings, that which distinguishes between humans and animals. Their essence is Empathy. The wise Hillel summarized it “do not do unto others that which is hateful to you, the rest is commentary, go and learn.” Empathy is civilization, give and take, karma, flow of energy, call it whatever you wish. Has G-d given them directly to Moshe in a wrathful baritone voice? What difference does it make?

The funny thing is that in the desperate efforts to find a meaning to that which has none, researchers raised the hypothesis that there was no need for the world to be created, it has always existed (even Aristo claims that), which means that they believe that there is something primordial which has no creator, is infinite, has no shape and no size, that everything in it is conducted with a fixed and balanced amount of energy which cannot be subtracted by one tiny bit or else all will be chaotic.

In simple words, it is not G-d, but G-d. I reached the conclusion that just as the various religious leaders, astral physicists reach a certain point where they themselves do not understand their theories and move on to esoteric terms. And if one questions them, they define that person as ignorant and mindless.

So, here is another unique aspect of Judaism. We shall do and we shall hear. We accept our inability to understand. It is always great to learn and widen one’s horizons and it is not a shame to accept that there are issues which are beyond our understanding. This, also, has wisdom and spiritual eminence.