Remembering Forward

 

“Without memory, there is no culture. Without memory, there would be no civilization, no society, no future” - Elie Wiesel

“Memory is deceptive because it is coloured by today’s events.” – Albert Einstein

“To be a Jew is to know that over an above history is the task of memory” – Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

 

The command to remember is an important pillar in our Jewish tradition. “The imperative of the Hebrew word zachor,” asserts David Pillegi, “is mentioned more than twenty-five times” in the Tanach (Jerusalem Post, March 29,2012). The Jewish year, accordingly, is mottled with many memorial days, national and private.

One of my favourite modern Yisraeli poets, Yehudah Amichai (May 3, 1924 – September 22, 2000), also, dwells on the notion of memory. “The world is filled with remembering and forgetting,” he writes. Amichai likens memory and forgetfulness to “dry land” and “sea” as metaphors to our duplicate realities which, he believes, are elements of our existence. “Dry land,” he suggests, is the memory of our starting point, our past, the anchor that keeps our feet secure on the ground. The “sea” is a metaphor for the unknown that awaits us in the days ahead. It is an unpredictable zone where we sail into the future in our desperate effort to hold on to forgetting memories, the ones that threaten to overwhelm, drown our essence in their torrent and prevent us from forming a future. Only those who have a stable dock on dry land, suggests Amichai, have some firm fulcrum, to which they can return to and safely resume their daily routine.  

Though our Jewish heritage prizes memory, I must admit that in my many years of interaction with Jewish communities around the world, I have encountered, on more than one occasion, the desire to forget and consciously erase our bad memories. Many Jewish parents want to spare their children the exposure to dark chapters in our history for fear that such a disclosure might affect them emotionally.

One example that comes to mind is during the time that I lived in New Zealand. I was once asked to conduct the Passover Seder at some friend’s house. All went well until I got to the part where the ten plagues were mentioned. When I reached the tenth one, where the first-born son of every Egyptian family was smitten, the father stopped me and said, “we don’t talk about death to our children…..” I was dumbfounded. Though I understood that the father’s silence and the temptation to forget, stemmed from concern, at the same time, I felt that it created a distortion. How could anyone not mention this very constitutive and cardinal act in our Jewish history? Can we raise a new generation without exposing it to the painful segments of the story?

This, however, is not merely a matter of a private case. Throughout history, many Jews elected to forget. That choice was the product of the yearning to prevent trauma and the wish to enable a future for their children.  Regrettably, though, it has always been at the cost of sacrificing the vital role of memory.

Jewish culture puts memory at the center of our collective identity. The Talmud (Yoma 56,1) teaches us that authentic remembering of events, good and bad, is the first move towards tikkun, improvement. Rabbi Nachman Bar Yitzchak, similarly, suggests that genuine memory leads towards action and change (Kiddushin 40, 2)

The horrors of the Shoah, a more recent sad episode in our People’s history, which happened eighty years ago, is another example of such a tendency. Sadly, quite a few Jews, both in Yisrael and elsewhere, spare details of that chapter from their children again, for fear of the impact it might have on their emotional well-being.

More recently, Yisrael has experienced one of the most horrific pogroms since the Shoah. I am referring to the massacre that took place close to two years ago on the Holy Day of Simchat Torah, which is better known by its Gregorian calendar date as, October 7^th, 2023. Despite the fresh memories of this bloodbath, many, including adults my age, refuse to see footage of the carnage or listen to the testimonies of its survivors.

This discrepancy between the necessity to remember and the wish to forget, between the “dry land” and the “sea,” as we have witnessed, engaged Amichai. In another poem, he offers yet another metaphor. This one is in the form of a “dam.”  This “dam,” implies Amichai, stands for the present tense, the stage in which we are. Just like a dam which controls the flow of water, Amichai’s “dam” allows us to release or block the flow of memory between the “dry land” and the “sea.”

It is at this point that the quote by Einstein, above, is brought into play. If the control over this “dam” is subject to our emotional and political agenda or is “coloured by today’s events,” in Einstein’s words, it might reshape the past not in accordance with historical facts, but by the demands of the present. Should we redraw our past? Should our “coloured” present determine which parts of our past be remembered or perhaps suppressed? What should be the fate of painful, yet essential and identity defining chapters in our history?

Memory is not merely what we choose to remember. Rather, it is the courage not to forget. Remembering forward requires of us, as Jews, to preserve the past, the good and the bad, without granting us the permission to rewrite it.

Kedoshim - The Equality of Holiness

 

“Speak to the Whole Yisraelite Community. Say: ‘Be holy, for I am holy; I, the Lord your G-d,’” Leviticus 19:1-2

 

These verses which open Kedoshim, this week’s Torah portion, convey an unequivocal directive which states that all members of Am Yisrael belong to the level of holiness. Every member of the community can equally reach it, if only they wish.

“What we witness here asserts Rabbi Sacks, ZT”L, is the radical democratization of holiness. Priesthood, in the ancient world, was not exclusive to Am Yisrael, as the Torah shares with us on several occasions. Whereas in other societies, it was reserved to the elite, in this parashah, according to Sacks, “for the first time, we find a code of holiness directed to the People as a whole.” Religion is no longer hierarchical as was prevalent in the idolatrous ancient world.

The designation of Am Yisrael as a “holy nation” was mentioned by G-d already in Exodus 19:5-6. There He says, “And now, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, then you will be a special possession among the peoples, even among all earth.”  In Kedoshim, however, that proclamation has become an order. Each member of the community is formally sanctioned and commanded to “be holy,” to fulfill the vocation that G-d destined for them in Exodus.

What follows this directive is a long list of laws and rituals which include some of those chronicled in the Ten Commandments. These, naturally, are aimed at guiding and helping every Yisraelite live a life of holiness.

Our sages differ on the course of reaching “holiness.”  While Ramba”m and Rash”i believe that it can be achieved only by performing the mitzvot (commandments), Ramba”n asserts that it can be obtained by abstaining from an opulent way of life. According to Ohr Ha’Chaim, the only way to attain it is through enduring harsh experiences. Whatever the means all three sources (and many others) suggest, they are all based on the same premise of “holiness” that is expected of Am Yisrael.

Rebbi Berel Wein offers a different perspective at viewing this parashah. According to him,  “Kedoshim is not exclusively meant to represent holiness in the common usage of the word.” Those who are well versed in the Hebrew language would know that the root K,D,SH could also suggest dedication or devotion, in this case, to G-d and to the covenant that was entered between Him and Am Yisrael at Mount Sinai.

As our sages point out, some of the mitzvot which constitute that covenant are what Rabbi Sacks terms as “chok, ‘a statute,’ often understood as a law that has no reason, or at least none that we can understand.”  Adhering to and performing such commandments is a confirmation of our devotion and ongoing faith in G-d. “This is a cardinal principle in the relationship between G-d and us,” explains Rabbi Mendi Kaminker. “We must perform Mitzvot out of devotion and obedience to G-d even if we do not grasp them because this is His will.” He further elaborates that when it comes to mitzvot which we do understand, we should not observe merely because we know their underlying reason, but rather aspire to reach the G-dly, the holy component which is above our rationale.

 

Rabbi Berel Wein further suggests that in G-d’s relations with Am Yisrael, His dedication and devotion is reciprocal. “The Lord, Himself,” proposes Wein, “so to speak, describes His own Being as being not only holy but also being dedicated - dedicated to fulfill His Will,” to educate the world and teach His values system and code of ethics, “through the People of Yisrael, their behavior, events and destiny.”

Chaz”l, also comment on these verses. Their interpretation stems from the words, “for I am holy: I, the Lord, your G-d.” Since the purpose of performing the mitzvot, they believe, is to purge and sanctify us, we, in turn, sanctify G-d. What Chaza”l are teaching us is that, apparently, G-d’s holiness depends on that of Am Yisrael (Torat Ha’Kohanim Kedoshim, 1).

Whichever way we understand these verses, they all lead, in my view, to the conclusion and the lesson that is derived from Rabbi Sacks’s lucid essay on the parashah. His commentary brings to light the revolutionary notion that holiness is not reserved to a selected few, as was the custom in the ancient world. Each member of Am Yisrael, not only has the potential to be holy but, also, has the duty to strive to achieve holiness. As representatives of the one and only G-d, their holiness will directly affect the presence of His level of holiness in the world.

Metzora - The Importance of Introspection

 

      “We are souls dressed up in sacred biochemical garments and our bodies are the instruments through which our souls play.” – Albert Einstein

 

Last week’s Torah portions, Tazria and Metzora continue to address the laws of purity which began in Shemini. In Tazria, G-d instructs Moshe about the rituals of purification for mothers following childbirth.

The second parashah (Torah portion), Metzora, focuses on the laws of tzara’at which, according to our sages, is mistakenly translated as leprosy. “It is not a physical disease,” asserts Rabbi David Rosenfeld, of Aish, “…. it can appear on innate objects like clothing and buildings which is something physical diseases can’t do. Rather,” he continues, “tzara’at is a spiritual malady.” The parashah goes on to address the laws concerning the atonement and treatment of the condition, the healing process by the High Priest and the sacrifices which the afflicted person has to offer to G-d.

The notion that tzara’at is a spiritual condition rather than physical is also proposed by Rabbi David Agmon. According to him, were tzara’at a somatic malady, it would follow that it should be named after the doctor that is sent to heal the sick person. Instead, the parashah describes the ailments that are diagnosed and treated by the High Priest through the process of purification. “What does it tell us about the spiritual attribute of leprosy?” asks Rabbi Agmon.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ZT”L, likewise, suggests that the Rabbis “moralized the condition of tzara’at.” According to them, it was a punishment rather than a medical condition and not for any sin but for one specific sin, that of leshon hara, evil speech. This interpretation, explains Sacks, “was based on the internal evidence in the Torah itself.” The first is described in Exodus 4:6-7 where Moshe’s hand became leprous after expressing doubt the readiness of the Yisraelites to believe him. The second incident is mentioned in Numbers 12:1-15 where Miriam was struck by leprosy after denigrating Moshe.

Though tzara’at may possibly be a type of skin infection, our sages claim that it is wreaked as a Divine message and not by natural means. They explain that the term “metzora” is an acronym for “motzi leshon hara” a person who speaks disparagingly about others (Babylonian Talmud, Erkin15:1).

 The Torah does not provide a clear directive against leshon hara, evil speech, it strictly prohibits gossip, “You shall not go about spreading gossip among your people” (Leviticus 19:16). Leshon hara, is considered one of the worst transgressions of all. Maimonides, one of our greatest sages, construes it as “There is a far greater sin that falls under this prohibition [of gossip]. It is ‘the evil tongue,’ which refers to whoever speaks derogatorily of his fellow, even though he speaks the truth.” (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deot 7:2). Evil speech, claim our sages, kills three people – the one who says it, the one who accepts it, and the one about whom it is said. (Hilchot Deot 7:3). Nothing keeps us farthest from G-d than leshon hara, contends Ohr HaChaim (Rabbi Chaim ben Attar).

A close examination of the laws of tzara’at, its consequences and the peculiar purification process by the High Priest, as described in the parashah, reinforces the spiritual significance of the syndrome.

One of the consequences of having tzara’at requires that the contaminated individual is commanded to separate himself from the community and stay outside the camp by himself, “leave your home, go beyond the city limits and just sit alone with no one to talk to!” (Leviticus 13:46).

To an innocent bystander, this directive may seem harsh considering that the source of this ailment is spiritual, a form of punishment for sinful conduct rather than physical or contagious.

And this is the great lesson that our Rabbis wish to teach us. According to them, the process of isolation, which is consequential to leaving the camp, is meant to bring us to reflection, introspection and repentance.

Our body is our guide, our Scriptures teach us, the guide to our inner self. In the words of Job, “….in my flesh I will see G-d” (Job 19:26). Our body is the channel through which the Divine message is passed on to us. It is, as Einstein expressed in the above quote, “the instrument through which our souls play.” If part of us is impure, it tends to manifest itself physically to allow us to treat, mend and heal. Our first instinct, generally, is to blame outside factors for our ailments. The Torah instructs us to examine ourselves, search our inner self, not look at others or blame them. This is essential to commence our healing process. Remedy of the soul is the root of physical health.

Just as the Metzora cannot be part of his camp so long as he is diseased, so cannot those who sin against their fellow men and women be part of our society. Only after they wake up, amend their ways and heal can they embark on the path towards a healthy and fulfilling life for themselves and our society.

Is Being a Stiff-Necked People Bad?

 

   

“And G-d said to Moses, I have seen this people and indeed it is a stiff-necked people!” Exodus 32:9

There are a few themes in last week’s Parashah, “Ki Tisa.” One of them dwells on the grave and calamitous episode of the “golden calf.” In His rage at Am Yisrael, G-d promises to punish it for this sordid affair. “Now therefore,” He tells Moshe, “let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them, and I may consume them. And I will make of you a great nation” (Exodus 32:10). Am Yisrael, according to G-d, clings to idolatry and are not ready to commit themselves to the covenant they entered with G-d.

Moshe tries to soothe G-d’s anger and pleads with Him to forgive Am Yisrael. “Lord,” he said, “if I have found favour in your eyes, then let the Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, forgive our wickedness and our sin and take us as your inheritance" (Exodus 34:8-9).

Rabbi Sacks, ZT”L, suggests that Moshe’s words may sound somewhat odd. Moshe cites as a reason for G-d remaining with the Yisraelites the very trait that G-d had previously given for wishing to abandon them.

 In other words, in both quotes, the term “stiff-necked” is used to portray Am Yisrael. In both, this quality is used as an excuse for two opposing goals. How is it possible that Moshe raises specifically the stubbornness of the Yisraelites, their obstinacy as a rationale for the resumption of G-d’s presence in their midst?

Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, also known as the “Piasetzno Rabbi” (1889-1943) was, likewise, bewildered by the same issue. He offers his own understanding of the use of the term. In his view, being “stiff-necked” is one of the greatest qualities one could possess. In his view, anyone who is not “stiff-necked” is fickle and insecure. …No one knows what the outcome might be when, G-d forbid, that person will not be able to withstand a calamitous trial (which relates to the decision to abandon the Jewish faith). On the other hand, per the Piasetzno Rabbi, the stiff-necked individual is an honest person. If that person decides to worship G-d, one can rest assure that he would adhere to his decision. The more "stiff-necked" he is, the more likely he will withstand that same trial (Aish Kodesh, Parashat Noah).

Being “stiff-necked” means being stubborn. It also means being dedicated and committed to a certain cause. To be “stiff-necked” means that one can meet their obligations and duties against all odds. When the pressure rises and the burden gets heavier, one can rely on a stiff-necked person to do what he is expected to do.

On the other hand, as the Piasetzno Rabbi contends, one who is not “stiff-necked” is like a leaf blown away in the wind. One day, he says that he will be by your side, but what will happen, asks the Rabbi, if on the following day, he faces hardships that he himself cannot handle? Moshe’s argument, asserts the Rabbi, was as thus: “Yes, Am Yisrael is a stiff-necked nation. They stubbornly cling to idolatry. However, you, G-d should know that when they fully commit themselves to you, they will never leave you. Their commitment to the Covenant is absolute.” In other words, explains Zecharia Robof, in his article, “A Stiff-Necked Nation in Times of Crisis,” no matter how much the Children of Yisrael suffer, their stubbornness means that they will never give up on their love for you. Now, they are “stiff-necked” in their rebelliousness, but the day will come when they will be, likewise, “stiff-necked” in their loyalty. The gentiles will order them to convert, but they will refuse. They will suffer humiliations, persecutions and torture because of their beliefs, yet they will continue to adhere to the Covenant that their forefathers undertook with G-d..

Am Yisrael and the Jewish People, as history has shown, has, on more than one occasion, reverted to the old ways of their ancestors in the Sinai desert. Yet as hard as it has been for them to withstand the temptation of idolatry and the absence of a physical image of G-d, it has been just as hard, if not harder, for them to forsake their ancestral Covenant with G-d. In the words of R.Isaac ben Redifa who said them in the name of R.Ami, “you might think that this [“stiff-necked”] is a negative attribute, but in fact, it is praiseworthy, for it means: ‘Either be a Jew or prepare to be hanged’” (Beitza 25b;Shemot Rabbah 42:9).

Jewish survival throughout history, despite the catastrophes that befell our People, is the result of two important factors. One is our insistence to maintain our “stiff-necked” attribute when it comes to the desire of nations, by way of pogroms, crusades, Inquisition or any other attempt to annihilate our faith. The second is the everlasting promise that has accompanied Am Yisrael on our journey through the ages, “The Eternal of Yisrael shall never lie.”

Ner Tamid (Perpetual Light)

 

                                      “Command the Yisraelites to bring you clear oil of pressed olives for the                                             illumination of the perpetual light.”  - Exodus 27:2

Throughout history and across cultures, the notion of Light is one of the most universal and central symbols. Unlike darkness, which is associated with evil, suffering and the unknown, Light, conveys goodness, hope and spirituality.

The concept of Light runs like a golden thread in Judaism, its tradition and commandments and captures an immense role and significance in our Jewish culture. It is almost impossible to fathom Judaism without the notion of Light and candles which are used for various functions such as holy days celebrations and as commemoration and other special occasions.

G-d’s directive regarding Ner Tamid, above, was given to Moshe as part of the commandment to construct the Tabernacle, the portable earthly dwelling of G-d which was used by Am Yisrael throughout their wanderings in the desert until the conquest of Canaan. The instructions to assemble the Tabernacle such as its measurements, listing the vessels and their roles, the garb of the priests or the performance of the rituals, also include detailed guidelines surrounding the precepts and affiliated role and purpose of Ner Tamid (Leviticus 6:5-6).

Upon the erection of Solomon’s Temple, all rituals and religious duties, including those surrounding Ner Tamid, were relocated and placed in it. After the destruction of the Temple, the tradition of Ner Tamid was shifted to the synagogue where it is placed in front of Aron haKodesh, Ark of the Holy, where the Torah scrolls are kept.

The theme of Light can be spotted in various places along our Tana”ch and symbolizes different quality. For instance, the term is an important component of the constitutive and well-known idiomatic phrases concerning our calling as a People. Our destiny to be a “Light unto the Nations” is proclaimed by the prophet Isaiah (42:6). The role that G-d has fated for us, as a “Nation of Priests,” according to Isaiah, was to represent Him to the world by our meritorious lifestyle and by becoming a beau ideal to humanity.

For King Solomon, though, Light symbolizes the Spirit of Man as he suggests in Proverbs 20:27: “The human spirit is the lamp of G-d that sheds light on one’s inmost being.” For others, such as Erica Brown, the light of the Ner Tamid is a reminder of “the flame that burned but did not consume the burning bush where Moses received his calling.” (“The perpetual flame: Thoughts on Parashat Tzav”. The Torah Leadership, March 30, 2023).

The absence of Light, on the other hand, is used as a form of punishment, in our Jewish scriptures. In the Babylonian Talmud, Megillah tractate, for instance, Rabbi Yosi (1st century) quotes one of the curses that Moshe warned Am Yisrael against, lest they move away from their Covenant with G-d, “At midday you will grope about like a blind person in the dark” (Deuteronomy 28:29). In its literal meaning, this curse denotes that even at noon, when it is expected to be light, darkness shall prevail.

Rabbi Yossi, however, recounts the following story which helps us understand this verse differently and in a more positive, uplifting and optimistic manner. As he was leaving the prayer house, one evening, shares with us Rabbi Yosi, he met a blind man. The blind man held a burning torch which spread a bright light.

Rather surprised, Rabbi Yosi stopped and asked the man for the purpose of holding the torch. After all, if the man is blind, then day and night should look the same as far as his blindness was concerned.

The blind man explained that so long as he was holding the burning torch, people could see him and save him from getting hurt. The torch, asserted the blind and wise man, was not to show him the way, but rather to ensure that others noticed him and came to his rescue. For him the burning flame of the torch provided Faith and Trust. It was a holy fire.

It is this kind of “holy fires” that Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ZT”L is referring to in his column in The Times, “Somehow faith outlives every attempt to destroy it. Its symbol is not the fierce fire that burned synagogues and sacred scrolls and murdered lives. It is the fragile flame we, together with our children and grandchildren, light in our homes, singing G-d’s story, sustained by our hope.” (“The Flame of Faith that has Survived all Tyranny,” The Times, December 19, 2008).

May the Perpetual Light of the Ner Tamid continue to shine over us all and point us in the right direction where we can bind with our fellow men and women and, together, continue to bask in the glory of Hope and Wisdom that it spreads for the benefit of us all.

 

Happy Purim, dear Am Yisrael 

The Fourth Sin

The following article is a translation of a Facebook post written in Hebrew, by Avi Portugheis

"For three sins of Damascus, even for four, I will not relent..." (Amos 1:3). Meaning: sinned many sins, yet the last one tipped the scale.

For the three since of Aharon Barak  and the fourth one, I will not relent.

1. The first, the Camp David Accords with Menachem Begin, Sadat and Carter. There, Barak worded the treaty, against the wish of Begin. Begin insisted that it states: "The legal rights of Yisraeli Arabs and their just needs."

Barak's version, translated into English said, "The legitimate rights of the Palestinian people."

True, it does say, " the Palestinian people, but all the world's commentators, except for Begin, understood it to mean, the "Palestinian People" and this is where it all began. 

Begin, somewhat naive and somewhat stupid, admired the judicial system, believed that thanks to it, Ben-Gurion had spared him. 

In Aharon Barak, he saw a prodigy.

Moreover, as a result of the cleansing he conducted in the ruling Labour part, he enabled Begin's desired victory. Begin did not understand that he was, in fact, riding on the back of a tiger, whose megalomanic instinct will eventually devoure the Knesset, the government and eventually the state.

2. The second sin, the estsblishment of the apartheid regime: the judicial reform tbat Barak created in which the clear and simple law which the average citizen understands, accepts and follows, into a shapeless, amorphic thing,  whereby only the judge understands and can determine its content regardless of the language of the law. "Interpretation is not merely linguistics, the judge has to regard the law as it would be worded in the present, by the reasonable legislator." 

Who is a reasonable legislator? - trust the judge that he knows. That is how an apartheid state was created, where the Right cannot demonstrate and the Left can, where any message of the Right is incitement and that of the Left is enlightenment, where those with Jewish morality are "children of darkness" and those with a Marxist one are "children of light," where "a Buzaglo (an example of a Sephardic name) is the opposite of the enlightened Man."

3. The third crime, loss of trust in the Court:  where the advancement of Barak's megalomanic aspirations cannot exist under the criticism of thinking, wise colleagues. 

He, therefore, made sure that the courts, in general, and the Supreme Court, in particular, will be composed of below average and downward people who would not oppose him. Through the seniority system, he could dictate twenty years ahead  who would be the presiding supreme court judges and thus ensure that it would not consist, G-d forbid, of wise people. (This is Fogelman's struggle, these days. He was promised the Supreme Court presidency, he was well behaved and even agreed to go along with the "Apropim Rule" (see below).

4. The fourth sin, the unrelenting one. It is the abduction of the ruling ability of the sovereign. The Supreme Court robbed the rights of the Knesset and the govetnment but left them with the responsibility. It gave unreasonable power to, unlike that which exists in other democracies, to "gate keepers" who amount to nothing but "politrukes" similar to those that existed in the Commumist regime of the former Soviet Union.

The result, the Court, nowadays, has become the ememy of the People. The People has enlisted to fight an existential war from without and, at the same time, those from within, including the Court which keeps putting sticks in the wheels of the war.

"And the fourth one, I shall not relent." The flight of the judges from the courtroom to avoid the wrath of the protesting crowd, moving the military AG (the one who ordered the arrest of the soldiers who were falsely accused, as the report of a world acclaimed Professor Pikarsky proves, of raping a Nukhbah terrorist), to a secret residence, are just the beginning. 

There will come the day, in the not too far future, when the wearers of the black robes will be dragged in the city streets.

This is not an incitement, it is merely an interpretation, or if you wish, a wake up call.

https://ekw.co.il/en/contract-interpretation-in-light-of-new-judgment-by-the-supreme-court/#:~:text=In%20addition%2C%20the%20Apropim%20Judgment,of%20the%20contract%20and%20its

Va’etchanan - The Answer to the “Why” of Jewish Existence

 

“Those who have a “why” to live, can bear with almost any “how.” – Victor J. Frankl

 “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain

Va’etchanan, this week’s Torah portion is the second portion in the book of Deuteronomy (3:23-7:11). Moshe continues his final sermon to Am Yisrael. He shares with them how he pleaded (Va’etchanan) with G-d to allow him to enter the Promised Land and sums up some of the key milestones along their journey through the desert.

“Remember the day at Mount Sinai when G-d spoke to you out of the midst of fire,” Moshe reminds them. That day, in our Jewish history, is what Mark Twain refers to, in the above quote, as “one of the two most important days” in our life as a People. It was the day Am Yisrael and the Jewish Nation were born, the day we became a “A kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation unto G-d.” (Exodus 19:6).

On that first important day, we also declared in one unanimous voice, “we shall do, and we shall harken.”

By proclaiming these words, our People, composed of a former community of tribes, most of whom were illiterate slaves, unconditionally accepted and affirmed the “what” and the “how” of our Jewish Moral Code of Law. We took upon ourselves the burden of the Mitzvot and how to follow them. I doubt many, if any, understood what they meant and “why” it was important to follow and obey them.

For the forty years of wandering in the desert, Bnei Yisrael were repeatedly taught the “what” and the “how.” During that period, though, Moshe does not dwell as much on the core of the reasons behind the mitzvot, on the “why,” or what the ancient Greeks call Telos.

As Frankl suggests above and as many of us have learned in life, knowing the “why” facilitates and eventually enables us to overcome the harshest of obstacles and hurdles posed before us on our odyssey through life. The search for the meaning of our existence requires us to discover what Twain defines as “the second most important day of our life,” the day we discover the “why.”

In his article, “The Power of Why,” Rabbi Sacks also addresses the relevance of the “why” in our life. He shares with us a TED talk by Simon Sinek, an English American author and inspirational speaker. In it, Sinek asked, “How do great leaders inspire action? What made people like Martin Luther Kind and Steve Jobs stand out from their contemporaries who may have been no less gifted, no less qualified. Sinek’s answer, tells us Sacks, is “Most people talk about the what. Some people talk about the how. Great leaders, though, start with the why. This is what makes them transformative.”

Moshe, undoubtedly, understood the importance of the concept.  Unlike other sermons delivered by him, in the past, his final farewell not only stresses the duty to follow the commandments, but it also unveils a new facet of them, thus reinforcing their solemnity. It reveals to Am Yisrael, the universal “why” behind the Mitzvot.

Though on other occasions, in the past, the decree to follow the Torah was backed by the “why,” it was, generally, in the form of personal, individual and even national rewards for following them or subsequent punishment for disobeying them. For instance, the personal merit that is attached to the Fifth Commandment which requires us to honour our mother and father, promises the granting of a long life by G-d. Likewise, as a nation, we are warned against the dire consequences of any deviation from the Law as well as promised the rewards that await us for complying with it.

However, in Moshe’s “Swan Song,” in Va’etchana,” we learn about a much bigger and more significant reason for adhering to the One G-d and His commandments. This one is a universal “why” which ascribes the importance of preserving Jewish existence and survival. “Observe them carefully for this will show your wisdom and understanding to the nations, who will hear about them and say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.’ What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord, our G-d is near us whenever we pray to him? And what other nation is so great as to have such righteous decrees and laws as this body of laws I am setting before you today?”  (Deuteronomy 4:6-8).

This is the big “why,” behind the “what” and the “how” that we were given in Mount Sinai. It is not merely for the gain of Bnei Yisrael as individuals, or as members of a Nation but it is also a universal benefit. It is the “why” that serves to fulfill the exceptionally enormous role that we were destined to play as “a Holy Nation unto G-d,” in the history of mankind.

May we, Am Yisrael and the Jewish People be comforted on this Shabbat Nachamu and be worthy of the role that G-d and history have allotted to us.

Shabbat Shalom