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

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!  🇮🇱🇮🇱🥰🇮🇱🇮🇱

Judaism and Personal Responsibility

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

As we enter the Jewish New Year, I spend much time pondering the purpose of the High Holy Days and their significance in our Jewish Ethics. Reflection upon and taking personal responsibility for our deeds, conduct and mistakes is, in my view, mainly what these days are about.

The premise that underlines these available courses of action in our Jewish tradition rests in the human conditions. As humans, we are destined to err and make mistakes. At the same time, however, we are given the opportunity to address them, correct them and learn from our experiences in order to become more accomplished human beings and help make our world a better place.

Our Torah and Jewish literature give us the tools to make this happen. They guide us along this complex path where on the one hand, free choice is in the realm of G-d alone and where our actions are pre-destines while, on the other, humans are expected to know Good from Evil.

The Tanach, as we know, is the story of G-d and His interactions with humans and their choices between Right and Wrong. In numerous instances, it shows us that despite the omnipotence and omnipresence of G-d in our life, humans are given the ability to distinguish between the two and make the right decisions.

The first verse that points to that is in Genesis 1:26 “And G-d created man in His image.” The image that the verse refers to is not a physical one since we do not know what G-d looks like. Rather, the text hints to some attributes that humans share with G-d, one of which is the ability to distinguish between Good and Evil. This is further reinforced in Genesis 3:22 following the eating of the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, where G-d states: “Verily, this human being is unique, that he has his own mind to choose between good and evil.”

Indeed, without free will there would be no purpose to life. That is what G-d decreed to us. Free will gives a meaning to our life. It affects those around us and the world we live in.

With Free Will comes Accountability for one’s deeds and assumption of Personal Responsibility. What cements these three is Emotional Intelligence and Maturity.

Emotional Intelligence and mature conduct is another attribute of G-d’s image which Jewish Literature and Jewish sages expect to find in us.

In Judaism, no one gets punished nor dies for our sins and transgressions. We each must come to terms with our actions and bear their consequences, good AND bad. No learning, no improvement would or ever could take place if someone else takes the blame and endures punishment for our misdeeds.

Hence the numerous repetitions throughout the Tanach of the importance of each Jew doing good and be the recipient of the rewards associated with it as opposed to the punishment that follows the election to do evil.

The solemn period AKA, the Ten Days of Awe, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, each year is, therefore, of great significance for Jews. It gives us a chance to repent, evaluate, improve and above all pave our path to G-d’s ultimate commandment to “Choose Life”:

“This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you Life and Death, blessings and curses. Now choose Life, so that you and your children may live.” (Deuteronomy 30:19)

This commandment is cited, rightfully, justly and most appropriately so, in the Torah portion that precedes Rosh Hashanah. It is a great reminder for us, Jews, that we are given the chance to make that commandment a reality and ensure that in the words of Rabbe Nachman of Breslov, we each are “a better person tomorrow….than today.”

Wishing Jews, the world over, Shanah Tova, a year of good deeds and abstention from evil, a year of Choosing Life.

Torah and Haftarah linked through the Wisdom of our Sages

Anyone who is slightly familiar with Torah (The first 5 books of Moses) knows that it is divided into 52 weekly portions. These portions are read on Shabbat at the synagogue.

However, it is not the only part that is read from the Tanach on Shabbat. Jews also read a section from the other part of the Tanach, namely, the prophets, after the weekly reading of the Torah portion. It is called Haftarah. Haftarah is also read on certain holidays. We should add that only selected passages from the Prophets make it into the Haftarah.

The word, ,הפטרה Haftarah, comes from the Hebrew root פטר, meaning “take leave,” “conclude.” The practice of reading the Haftarah probably started by 100 C.E. although the Talmud mentions that a Haftarah was read in the presence of Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus. Hyrcanus lived in 70 C.E.

The Haftarah section was selected because it relates to the Torah portion of that week. In many cases, the connection is obvious. In others, it is hinted and is contingent on a word or two. It is also important to note that, unlike the Torah, which is read from a handwritten scroll, the Haftarah is read from a printed book.

What were the origins of the practice of reading the Haftarah?

There are a few explanations to it. The most common one, however, is the one suggested by Chabad and other scholars.

According to them, it started around 168 B.C.E. when the Jews were under the rule of the infamous king Antiochus IV (the one we know from the Channukah story). Antiochus decreed that Jews were not allowed to observe Shabbat, perform Brit Milah (circumcision) and study the Torah which, as stated above, includes only the five Books of Moses. No such decree was issued against reading the other parts of the Tanach.

Jewish brilliance and an unrelenting urge for survival by our Sages instituted that a section of the prophets be read instead, a section that included an idea which was related to the Torah portion of that week.

The practice, evidently, resumed even after it became safe again to read from the Torah.

 In his article dwelling on this subject, Rabbi Peretz Rodman teaches us that “The Babylonian Talmud (Megillah 29b) suggests that a Haftarah should “resemble” the Torah reading of the day. The Haftarah is, in fact, usually linked to a theme or genre from the Torah reading. For example, on the week when the Torah reading features the song sung by the Yisraelites when they witnessed the parting of the Red Sea at the exodus (Exodus 15), the Haftarah includes the Song of Deborah sung in response to the military victory of the Chieftain Deborah and her commanding general, Barak (Judges 5).” Rabbi Rodman brings other examples as support to his claim.

What such a practice boils down to is that Torah is more than the words on parchment.  Torah means “instruction”. And in their wisdom, our Sages, made an addition, the Haftarah, to illuminate, the “instruction”, so that we would better understand the lessons.

While our Sages at one point in history, seeing Jews scattered and being concerned about the consequences of dispersion, allowed the translation of the Torah, they made it very clear that the only authentic version was the Hebrew language one.  That tradition was extended to the writings of the Prophets and the rest of the core library of Jewish tradition.  They understood how translation under the influence of cultural environments could lead to misinterpretation, dilution and distortions of meaning.  The role of the Haftorah, then, became more important as a tool to reinforce the lessons of Torah, to guide our people to seek and grasp the original meaning, important for Jewish cultural survival.

Today, we appreciate the validity of the somewhat prophetic concern of our sages.  We see other religions taking our Jewish literature, translating it, losing up to 30% of meaning, interpreting it in terms of their own cultural outlooks and beliefs, distorting it in doing so. They attach their own source from THEIR gospel to “compliment” the Torah and its related Haftarah, as one can clearly see here, https://torahclub.ffoz.org/torah-portions/exodus/beshalach/, even though their citation has nothing to do with the original sources.

Furthermore, and that is the real issue, we see Jews accepting these non-Hebraic and non-Jewish interpretations as if they are authentic, in some faulty almost desperate effort to find commonality, to see and define Judaism and Jewish culture in terms of currently fashionable cultural trends. Zionism, for instance, becomes, 20^th Century Jewish national liberation and no longer a 3400-year yearning for what is uniquely Jewish while Judaism itself becomes just another belief, another “church of the land” sharing some ill-defined universal values, rather than a special, unique, humane, ethic culture. 

So, as our Sages knew, perhaps it is time to go back to the lessons, to the instruction, to the Torah and the Haftarah, reinforcing one another,  teaching us, in the original language, what we are, what we need to be, to be the “light unto the nations”  in a world that seems to be losing all moral standards.


This article was written jointly by Roger Froikin and Bat-Zion Susskind

Our Resilient Jewish Spirit

This Shabbat is another special day on the Hebrew Calendar. It is שבת נחמו Shabbat Nachamu. 

Shabbat Nachamu ("Shabbath of comfort/ing) takes its name from the Haftarah from the Book of Isaiah 40:1-26. It is called by this name because of the Haftarah’s opening words,נחמו נחמו עמי " “ : Be comforted, be comforted my People.”  It speaks of comforting the Jewish people for their suffering. It the first of seven Haftarot of consolation leading up to the holiday of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

For me, this National milestone also bears a personal significance. It was on Shabbat Nachamu that my parents were liberated from the Nazi camps, seventy two years ago.

Growing up in the shadow of the Shoah, that is the date my parents always mentioned when asked about their liberation. Some found it strange. Why? You may ask.

Most people would remember and mark the Gregorian Calendar date as their anniversary of such an important event in their lives. Strangely enough, I never knew it by any other date other than “Shabbat Nachamu.” I doubt my parents ever remembered or at least did know the Gregorian date at some stage. Now, more than ever, I find it odd that they never remembered their Hebrew birth date, yet remembered the Hebrew date of their rescue from the inferno. That oddity is woven with bright coloured threads that send shivers through my spine each time that I stop to think about it.

It is only this year that I finally realized the significance or the symbolism of this date.

Firstly, for Jews to remember, observe and commemorate Jewish holidays and events, while being inmates of death camps in a hostile environment that tried to erase every connection to their essence as Jews, is commendable. As the years go by, I learn and read more and more stories of how some Jews risked their lives during those years to hang on to every possible shred of Jewish tradition. That is truly inspiring.

Clinging to their wonderful tradition, the customs, the celebrations at least through remembering them, infused in them the hope for better days and the firm belief that the “Eternal of Yisrael shall Never Lie.” What a fountain of optimism and courage it must have unfrozen in them. Their resilience was second to none.

Moreover, in Yiddish, the lingua franca of most European Jews upon whom the Shoah was brought, this disastrous event in Jewish history has come to be known as “Der Churben” דער חורבן  (The Destruction). This is the same name that was given by Jews to the destruction of both Temples, which according to tradition were both destroyed on Tisha B’Av, the ninth of the Hebrew month of Av,  חורבן בית המקדש (the Destruction of the Temple).

How appropriate, then, that the Liberation of these Jews, who did all they could to cling to their Judaism, took place on the very day we console Am Yisrael on all of its sufferings.

And the parallel between their survival and that of Am Yisrael goes further than that. Like Am Yisrael, my parents and many other Jews were liberated to see the resurrection and the fulfillment of Jewish prophecy. They came out of the Abyss, collected the broken pieces of their shattered lives and built a bigger and stronger tabernacle out of it in Eretz Yisrael.

May Am Yisrael continue to thrive on our Promised Land and make our Jewish Homeland go from strength to strength for ever and ever.

Amen!

Giving Credit

“Failure to accord credit to anyone for what he may have done is a great weakness in any man.”  - William Howard Taft

Without diminishing the importance of Taft’s wise words, allow me to add that failure to render credit is a weakness not only in any man but in any nation as well. It is the essence of humility, individual and national.

As a Jew, I am proud to belong to a tradition, to a heritage that has shared much with world civilization. What makes me ever more proud of it is that it never fails to give credit where and when credit is due.

This week’s Parasha (Torah portion) is a great example of it. It is entitled “Yitro,” (Jethro in Greek). Yitro is a non- Yisraelite who later becomes Moshe’s (Moses) father in law. He is a dedicated father and family man and is the governing leader of the tribes of Midian, to where Moses escapes from Egypt as a young refugee. After rescuing his daughters and their herds from hostile shepherds, grateful Yitro invites Moshe to break bread with them and offers him his daughter Tzipporah as wife (Exodus 2:21).
Following the liberation of his people from slavery in Egypt, Moshe, now a powerful and famous leader, returns to Midian where Yitro guides him on how to govern his people. Yitro advises him of the need to appoint magistrates and judges to assist him in the task of administering justice to Am Yisrael. (Exodus 18:17ff). Yitro fulfills his task as Moshe’s mentor with grace, elegance, sincerity and honesty. In return, he receives Moshe’s utmost respect and deference.

Yitro’s modesty and humility are further demonstrated in Numbers 10:29-30 where he is invited by Moshe to join Am Yisrael where he would be respected and honoured. Yitro courteously declines by entreating his responsibilities and duties to his own tribe in Midian.

Later in this week’s Parasha, we are told that the Children of Yisrael camp at the foot of mount Sinai where they are preparing to receive the Torah as G-d has chosen them to be His “kingdom of priests” and “Holy Nation.” That is where the children of Yisrael first become a Nation, Am Yisrael after they proclaim “Naaseh V’ Nishma “(we shall do all that G-d has spoken).

The giving of the Torah is, undoubtedly, the most important event in the timeline of the history of Am Yisrael and the Jewish people. It is the event that has connected our Past, Present and Future as a Nation.

When undertaking the task of dividing the Torah into fifty-two portions, our Rabbis elected to name this most important Torah portion after no other than Yirto, a Midianite, a non-Jew, an outsider.

Why, some of you may ask?

And this is where one of the greatest gifts of our Jewish nation lies, the essence of our strength. Yitro’s name was chosen precisely because our Rabbi’s followed one of the most important tenet inherent in our Jewish culture - giving credit where credit is due. Yitro, as we witnessed throughout the Parasha, was very instrumental in shaping our destiny and help us make it a reality. He provided Moshe with refuge when he escaped the hostile environment in Egypt, gave him food, shelter and coached him into becoming one of the greatest leaders Am Yisrael has ever had. His contributions to who and what we are today are immense. He is what we, Jews, call "A Righteous Gentile."

Yitro’s credit was not only given to him, it was well earned and well deserved.