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.

עולם הפוך

 

 

חברים

.מחשבה לשבת וללא קשר לעמדה פוליטית זו או אחרת

רבים בעולם, ביניהם ישראלים, בזים לאותם המתיישבים ביהודה ושומרון, אותם הקרויים "מתנחלים." נחלה, על פי הגדרת המילון, הינה רכוש, בעיקר חלקת אדמה העוברת בירושה. משמעו שההעברה הינה חוקית ואותו המתיישב עליה, עושה זאת באופן לגיטימי המעוגן בחוק

מאידך, העולם חס, תומך ומחזק את אותם הקוראים לעצמם "פלשתינאים," כאשר מקור השם הוא "פלישתים" אשר, על פי הגדרת המילון, משמעו פלשו לתחום, לאדמה או לנכס אשר לא שייך להם

?אתם מבינים

היורשים החוקיים, ה"מתנחלים," הם נושא לשנאה, על ידי גורמים מסויימים, בעוד ה"פלשתינאים," אשר בחרו לקרוא לעצמם על שם הפלישתים,  הפולשים התנ"כיים והבלתי חוקיים מן המאה ה- 12 לפנה"ס, נתמכים ומועצמים על ידי אותם גורמים

?נשמע לכם הגיוני

שבת שלום, שבת שקטה, שבת מלאה בכל ברכה. ❤🙏🇮🇱