Thursday, December 30, 2010

Nuanced Respect

Parshat Va'era

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Before the plagues begin the Torah takes a brief detour to tell us the lineage of the tribes of Reuven, Shimon and Levi, in order to get to Moshe and Aharon. Now that we understand the context of our heroes’ origins, the Torah tells us, “This is Aharon and Moshe, to whom G-d told them ‘Take the Israelites out of Egypt according to their hosts.’ They are the ones speaking to Pharaoh, King of Egypt, to take the Israelites out of Egypt. This is Moshe and Aharon (6:26-27).”

It is clear that these two verses are almost exact replicas of one another, with perhaps two essential differences. The first is that one verse speaks of what G-d told them to do, while the other explains that they are speaking to Pharaoh. The second difference is in the order their names are presented. First Aharon precedes Moshe, and then Moshe precedes Aharon.

While there is not much discussion in the commentaries over why the content of the two verses are essentially the same, many thoughts are shared over why Aharon is listed first in 6:26 and why Moshe is listed first in 6:27.

Rashi suggests there is no rhyme or reason to pit one before the other — indeed, the Torah switches back and forth simply because they are equal in every way. There is no way to otherwise indicate their equality beyond taking turns being listed first.

Ibn Ezra suggests Aharon is listed first because he was greater than Moshe and also because he was a prophet for the Israelites before Moshe returned from Midyan. Rabbi Yosef Karo suggests Aharon received prophecy earlier in his life than Moshe did, which was why he was listed first. By the time the two reach Pharaoh, however, Moshe has caught up in prophecy and is listed first.

Other commentators (Rashbam, Chizkuni and more) explain the discrepancies rather simply, following the more specific context in which their names are listed. Aharon was older, and is therefore listed first at the end of the genealogy list. In terms of G-d speaking to them, Moshe was the greater prophet and was therefore listed first.Alternatively, Rabbi Yosef Karo suggests that when Aharon is listed first it is because Moshe is giving him the honor he deserves. When Moshe is listed first, it is on account of Aharon giving him the honor he deserves.

The Kli Yakar approaches this dilemma from a completely different angle. He explains that in each case, we might have given one brother less credit, so that brother ends up being listed first to prove his importance in that context. As G-d’s messenger, we saw the importance of Moshe’s appointment in chapters 3-4. Aharon is listed first to show us that he was important in this endeavor as well. Regarding speaking to Pharaoh, our assumption is that Moshe, the man with the speech difficulty, is less relevant because the role of speaking to Pharoah will be fulfilled by Aharon. Thus we are told of Moshe first, to indicate his role is extremely important.

That some of the commentaries directly contradict one another in terms of who, at this point, was a greater prophet, it stands to reason that the question of who was a greater prophet might not be the strongest answer for the discrepancy in the order of their names.

I met someone this past weekend who devotes much of his Biblical research into countering Biblical criticism and its multiple-authors theory. As names and descriptions sometimes appear contradictory in the Torah, he suggested that every time a person appears or is described in the Torah, the person’s title or position must be understood from either the perspective of the narrative itself or that of a specific character in the narrative.

The latter method seems to be the approach of the Netziv who says that “In Pharaoh’s eyes, Moshe was always greater than Aharon. He knew Moshe’s name and wisdom (Moshe grew up in the palace of the king), as opposed to Aharon’s.” In other words, Pharaoh had likely never met Aharon before, and had no reason to put Aharon before Moshe in 6:27, when the brothers are mentioned in relation to their conversations with Pharaoh, and Moshe is listed first.

It would follow that Aharon is listed first in the context of 6:26 when it becomes clear to the people who these two leaders are and where they come from. Aharon, after all, has been with them all this time. Aharon has been the prophet and leader of record until now. Aharon does not need to prove he is a messenger of G-d to the people, because this is a role he has always played for them.

When someone asks how we are related to someone perhaps we should think twice before answering. Am I “her brother” or is she “my sister?” Am I “my parents’ child,” or are they “my parents?” The answer would be determined based on whom our fellow conversant knows better.

In the end, it might not really matter. But if we are to learn from the Torah even minute details of how to live, this little nuance gives even more respect to the people with whom we converse, to other members of our families and ultimately to ourselves.
*****************************************************
My Babi Phyllis Katz passed away this Wednesday. I don't know how keen she'd be on anything being "dedicated" to her memory - certainly not this early, I still can't believe she's not with us anymore - so I am not doing that. I would like to mention how much she enjoyed reading my dvar Torah each week. I will miss her feedback and excitement over "the new one from this shabbos."

And God has a funny way of having things work out, because I wrote this dvar Torah last Sunday, certainly knowing she was ill, but not knowing when would be her last day.

I am sure that no matter how you might have asked her about our relationship, she would say, "How are Avi Billet and I related? He's my grandson."

And I, most likely, would also tell people (particularly her friends who I would recognize, who might not remember me from time to time, sometimes with a beard, sometimes without) "I am Phyllis' grandson."

And while I have been very happy in this role, now that I have been hearing all the wonderful things people have to say about her, and knowing how much she'll be missed by so many people, I hope I am not overstepping any boundaries by (a little selfishly) claiming her to be "My Babi" (shared with my siblings and cousins, of course, along with all her 23 great-grandchildren).T'hay nishmasah tzrurah bitzror Hachaim.



Faygah bas David Yaakov, yarzeit 22 Teves 5771

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Looking Like An Egyptian

Parshat Sh'mot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

From his first introduction to us, most of the Torah depicts Moshe as the quintessential leader par excellence. The ultimate Jewish figure, he continues to hold that enigmatic quality that Jewish mothers dream about for their children — “Maybe one day you can be as great as Moses.”

And yet, there is one description of him that is so out of character, we wonder how it came to pass that he would be called such. After Moshe saves the daughters of Yitro from the shepherds who were mistreating them, they tell their father that an “Ish Mitzri,” an Egyptian man, saved them from the shepherds (2:19).

Oddly enough, only two other people in the Torah are described as “Ish Mitzri.” The first is Potiphar, Yosef’s first Egyptian master (Bereshit 39:1). The second is the man Moshe killed earlier in our chapter, for striking the Hebrew slave (2:11). The term appears in Vayikra 24:10 as well, but most people identify the Ish Mitzri there (the father of the blasphemer) as the same Egyptian man that Moshe killed in 2:11.

Certainly Moshe has little, if anything, in common with Potiphar and the violent Egyptian. How could the Torah give him the same title as these other Egyptian men?

I do not yet have an explanation as to whether a comparison to Potiphar is valid, unless in his case, as in Moshe’s, it refers to a member of Egyptian aristocracy.

Regardless, Rabbenu Bachaye records a beautiful interpretation that appears in a number of places in the Midrash. Yitro’s daughters were thanking their lucky stars that Moshe was present at the well. It was his flight on account of killing the “Ish Mitzri” of 2:11 that brought him to Midian. In this light, they were saying that the circumstances that brought Moshe to be at that well to save them was on account of an Ish Mitzri whom Moshe killed. In this interpretation, the last three times the term appears in the Torah all refer to the same Ish Mitzri - while the term is not being used to describe Moshe.

Of course, the simple explanation is that Moshe, who grew up in the palace of the king, was dressed like and spoke the language of an Egyptian.

I think that his being an Ish Mitzri here is just another challenge for him to overcome in the pursuit of his identity. Different Midrashim paint his time period in Midian to between 40 and 60 years, meaning he’ll have much time to contemplate who he is and what his mission in life will ultimately be.

The story is told that when the Russian Tzar decreed the Jews could no longer wear “Jewish” clothing, many rabbis felt the need to oppose the legislation and to wear Jewish clothing at all costs. The Kotzker rebbe, on the other hand, was against such an approach, as he felt the only real “Jewish clothing” are the tallis and techelet, both of which can always be worn, either when praying, or underneath one’s outer garments.

Moshe was dressed like a Mitzri, even though he was a Hebrew, says the Midrash. He demonstrated his concern for the other in every encounter he had in the Torah's first depictions of his behavior.

For us, the question becomes one of how much our dressing like the “mitzri” affects who we are as Hebrews. I recall fondly one of the musser talks I heard from one of my high school rebbeim about how “the clothes make the man.” I wonder if I remain a more conservative dresser, to this day, on account of that 20 minute monologue.

I still marvel over how many of us fall into the trap of “needing” to be up-to-date in terms of styles and accessories. While the Kotzker rebbe was right that “Jewish clothing” are a tallis and techeilet, there is also a “Jewish dress code” that the Kotzker rebbe felt no need to refer to because he lived in a time when everyone dressed more conservatively.

The Jewish dress code of modesty is not just one of how much skin or form is exposed to onlookers. That element, one would hope, is more obvious. Modesty is also about how much attention we draw to ourselves on account of what we are wearing. There is nothing wrong with receiving a compliment from those we know, but if even those we don’t know are turning heads and gaping at our chosen form of attire, it is time to reconsider our priorities and whether we are looking too much like a “mitzri.”

Whether Yitro’s daughters referred to the Egyptian Moshe killed or thought he himself was an Egyptian, it did not take long for Moshe to set the record straight and eventually become Moshe Rabbenu. We must take the bull by the horns, swallow our need to be a walking showcase for the latest design and designers and focus on promoting the Jewish dress code of modesty and furthering our own spiritual pursuits.

It’s not just about what part of us people see. It is more about how people see us. And unlike Moshe who soon joined the family who may have viewed him otherwise, we don’t always get to set the record straight.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Yisrael and Yaakov

A few years after writing this, I revisited the subject here 

Parshat Vaychi


by Rabbi Avi Billet

When I was studying in yeshiva, I recall asking one of the rabbis if there is a theme as to when the name Yaakov is used to describe the third patriarch, as opposed to when the name he was given later, Yisrael, is used.

The rabbi was of the opinion that the name Yisrael is used in a context that has national and historical significance, while Yaakov is used when referring to the specific family of the patriarch and their personal experiences.

This theory is nice, but on close examination it does not hold water.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Looking Out For Father

Parshat Vayigash
by Rabbi Avi Billet

When Tzafnat Pane'ach reveals his true identity to his brothers, he says "I am Yosef. Is my father still alive?" (45:3)

Speechless, the brothers say nothing, forcing Yosef to say, "I am Yosef your brother whom you sold to Egypt." He recognizes that all was part of God's master plan, and makes clear he will not take revenge against them in any way.

Why is Yosef's first question "Is my father still alive?" From all the talk that has transpired between Yosef and the brothers, it seems to be beyond question that Yaakov is still alive.

While some (Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch and others) suggest Yosef revealed himself at this moment to determine if the brothers were lying – had they been using their father as a tool for a sympathy vote? –

Thursday, December 2, 2010

The Kallah and the Shver

This can also be read in the Jewish Star (check out their new layout!)

Parshat Miketz

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Shortly after Yosef is given his new title, he is introduced to his new wife – Asenath bat Poti Phera, the priest of On. Paroh, King of Egypt was the shadchan.

As Yosef was not really given a chance to polish up his own shidduch resume (though "Viceroy" is pretty good "yichus"), or to check out his bride's before they wed, we may wonder what brought these two people together, other than their illustrious matchmaker? And who is this two-named individual (Poti Phera – see Sofrim 5:12, Yerushalmi Megillah Chapter 1, 1:9) who now becomes the father-in-law of the new viceroy of Egypt?

The classic interpretation is that Poti Phera is Potiphar, Yosef's former master. Midrash Rabba (86:3) says the word "Phera" means he pulled himself towards pagan idolatry. The gemara (Sotah 13b) says Potiphar's name was changed because he had become emasculated ("Phera" means his masculinity had been "removed," a divine punishment he received for having eyes for Yosef). Most commentaries follow the latter interpretation, quoting Rashi who takes the lead in this direction.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Inspiring Righteousness

Parshat Vayeshev
Yosef "HaTzaddik" (the righteous) is a moniker unique to Yosef in all of Biblical history and Jewish folklore – others may be called righteous and may even have the term "tzaddik" used to describe them. But Yosef stands alone. Avraham is called "God's beloved." Yaakov is called the "Man of Truth." Moshe is called "Rabbenu" – our Master, our Teacher. None are known as "the tzaddik."

What makes Yosef unique is that when faced with the ultimate test, the ultimate challenge for a young, vigorous, hot-blooded male, he ran away, refused to succumb, and taught us a lesson for all time.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Music of Katonti

Parshat Vayishlach

By Rabbi Avi Billet

Four times every year the word “katonti,” which appears once in all of the Bible (32:11), is read in the synagogue to much pomp and circumstance. It is typically recited by the congregation before the reader says it, as it has somehow developed its own cultish following.

What is unique about this word, which is Yaakov’s way of saying, “I have become humbled” from all the kindnesses G-d has shown me, is that its cantillation mark, the symbol that tells the reader what music to apply to the word, is up for debate.

Friday, November 12, 2010

A Non Trivial Pursuit

This can be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Vayetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Chapter 31 is a little long to reproduce here, but it is worth reading before proceeding. It is a quick read, as the plot moves along like a well-written suspense novel.

Yaakov senses that the warm and fuzzy feelings are long gone and that it is time to return home. G-d seconds the notion in one sentence, so Yaakov approaches his wives, sisters Rachel and Leah, and appeals to them using three essential points. Your father’s view of me has changed dramatically, G-d has watched over me and given me your father’s wealth (which I anticipated through a vision of an angel), and now G-d has told me to return home. (31:5-13)

Their response is to all three points: Our father treats us like strangers as well, his wealth belongs to us and our children (thanks to G-d), and whatever G-d has told you to do should be done. (31:14-16)

The family flees from Laban’s home, and we begin to see a series of interesting parallels to a different time and place when this family (albeit a much larger group) flees from their current abode where they have been working for a different kind of boss.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Verbs, Verbs Everywhere

 Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There are two schools of thought regarding Eisav. Jews who study Torah regularly have a negative view of Eisav implanted in our brains from a very early age, as taught to us from the many teachings of the rabbis, midrash, Talmud, and even the works of the prophets.

The other perspective views Eisav as a victim: a victim of circumstance, of his brother's trickery, and of a family unit who misunderstood him.
Certainly the Torah itself does not paint Eisav in terrible terms. Most of the "bad" things he does can easily be explained away, if not justified.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

400 - Evil Eye or Messianic Redemption

This can also be read at the Jewish Star

Parshat Chayei Sarah

Rabbi Avi Billet

When we consider the 400 silver shekels Avraham paid for the Cave of Machpela the number sounds quite familiar. Two weeks ago we read of the promise G-d made to Avraham that his descendants would be strangers in a strange land for 400 years.

It is funny that Ephron would arrive at such a random figure, considering that he seemed intent on giving Avraham the land for free. Why would he pick a number that is so negatively significant to Avraham if he is really trying to do our patriarch a favor? Is there a connection between the purchase of the burial plot and the exile to Egypt?

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Not a Moment Earlier

This can also be seen at the Jewish Star
Parshat Vayera

Avraham has three visitors. Two of them go on to Sodom to destroy the city and save Lot.

When their presence in Lot’s house is discovered, the townspeople come, per their Sodomite way, to “take pleasure” with the unwanted guests (19:5). Lot defends his visitors and even goes so far as to offer his daughters to the mob in order to save them.

Lot’s counteroffer is abhorrent, and the visitors grab Lot, bring him inside (19:10), while the mob outside is struck with blindness so they can do no harm (19:11).

Why were the people of Sodom struck with blindness? This is Sodom — a city that is going to be overturned in a short while, at which time, everyone, including the newly blind, will die.

Why not just kill them now? Get them out of the way, avoid the confusion and make the message clear to Lot’s family that the visitors are on a serious mission..

There are a number of reasons we can suggest why the provocateurs were not struck down at Lot’s doorstep.

Homiletically, we can quote the rabbinic dictum that “blind is considered dead” (Nedarim 64b). This can immediately be rejected, however, because when a person is to be punished with death, blindness is never another option to make it “as if the person is dead.” Tosafot says that the categories of people who are “like dead” are those who have more difficult lives, regarding whom the rest of us need to beseech G-d for mercy on their behalf.

The blindness the Sodomites received was what they were meant to receive  — which leads to our second suggestion. God’s modus operandi is “middah k’neged middah” — measure for measure. In this case, the people of Sodom looked at something they shouldn’t have: Lot’s guests. The people of Sodom then came to their abominable conclusion of how they’d treat Lot’s guests, and were punished by losing their sight, the sense that brought on their mob-mentality.

A third suggestion is that the blindness was incurred for a different reason of middah k’neged middah.

Sodomites were notorious for torturing those they considered “unwanted” before they died. The blindness the Sodomites suffered was torture before their death.

Perhaps the most suggestive perspective is that the Sodomites could not be killed because it was not yet their time to die. In other words, even in Sodom, even in a place that is doomed, every minute of life is precious.

The angels told Lot they could not overturn the city until Lot was safely out of it. Perhaps others might have had the opportunity to escape in this time, were they willing to contemplate the consequences of their staying put. Lot’s delay was a window for those on the fringes to be saved.

Perhaps for some people, teshuvah (repentance) was never taken off the table as a viable option, were they to merely consider it.

The people of Sodom, of course, could not change their ways. Their evil was too entrenched in their make up, too much a part of who they were, they could not imagine joining a normal society.

The blindness was indeed middah k’neged middah. A people who are so blind that they cannot see the evil of their ways will only merit blindness before the maelstrom hits.

At the same time, G-d’s ways are kindness. They were not meant to die yet. Because of this, their deaths did not come prematurely, at a moment when they were doing their final despicable act of immorality. It came the way it was meant to come, at the predetermined time, and not a moment earlier.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Waking from Slumber

This can also be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Lekh Lekha

The word “Tardemah” — an unconscious state — appears only twice in the Torah: Bereishit 2:21 — when Chava is created from Adam, and 15:12, when Avram experiences the prophesy of the “Brit Bein Ha’b’tarim” — the Covenant Between the Pieces.

Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s translations in “The Living Torah” render the two experiences, respectively, “a deep state of unconsciousness” accompanied by sleep, and a “trance under which [Avram] was stricken by a deep dark dread.”

Adam’s sleep comes about after he has named every animal and has come to the realization that he has no partner opposite him. The most common interpretation, surprisingly, is that the original Adam was a Siamese-twin-like creature which contained both Adam and Chava in one body — which is why “he” could not find “her” — they were one and the same. As such, when God put Adam to sleep, it was for the purpose of separating him into two entities, and to close the flesh at the point of separation. (The “rib” interpretation has its sources — but it is by far the less preferred explanation of the creation of woman in rabbinic sources.)

In this sense, Targum Yonatan calls it a “deep sleep,” Sforno explains the purpose of the “tardemah” as a preventative to any anxiety or pain, like a general anesthesia for surgery.

Avram’s “tardemah” follows his conversation with God, and his preparation of the animals for the covenant. “The sun was setting, Avram fell into a trance, and he was stricken by a deep dark dread.” (15:12) As the sun’s position is described, Avram falls asleep. In contrast, God put “tardemah” on Adam.

In this state, Avram experiences prophesy that his descendants will be enslaved for 400 years, after which their oppressors will be judged and punished. For a man who does not yet have children, the prospects of these promises may seem farfetched, but the presence of the sun surrounding the revelation (15:12,17), which is perhaps a metaphor to Avram’s finally experiencing the “light” and “clarity” of his position with God and his future family, serves to strengthen the path Avram will take to see the promise come to fruition.

Many commentaries quote the midrash that the “deep, dark dread” that Avram experienced was a foreshadow of the different exiles his children would experience: Babylonia, Media, Greece and Edom (which most translate as Rome).

While the Midrash certainly makes sense for the time in which it was recorded, the Jewish people have been through many other exiles (expulsions and Holocaust-like events). To say Avram’s “tardemah” alluded to only four exiles is a fine example of Monday-morning-quarterbacking. If Avram’s experience was meant to be a prophesy about the future — beyond the one that is spelled out (the Egyptian exile), then more exiles should be referred to through textual hints and numbers of words.

However one looks at it, Avram’s “tardemah” put him in the mode to receive a unique prophesy about his direct descendants.

Two final comments are worth considering before the message becomes clear.

In defining “tardemah” as the “beginning of sleep,” Netziv (2:21) describes three kinds of “tardemah”s — one of sleep, one of prophesy, and one of marmitah (a kind of animal) — which likely refers to hibernation. In his estimate, the “tardemah” of sleep is lighter than sleep itself, while the “tardemah” of marmitah is deeper than sleep.

Avram’s tardemah was certainly one of prophesy. Which was Adam’s?

Toldot Yitzchak (2:21) says the fact that God put the “tardemah” on Adam is a lesson that a person (specifically a man, though it could be applied in all directions), should exhibit a sort of “out of consciousness” in his home — don’t be so strict, exhibit patience, a controlled temper, look the other way when things do not go according to “Daddy’s Master Plan.”

On the one hand, Adam’s “tardemah” may have been a hibernation — a medically induced coma, general anesthesia. On the other other hand, Adam’s “tardemah” may have been the first variety – the closest thing to sleep. Complete awareness of what is going on, with the drawback of having no say in the proceedings, all for the benefit of his wife and their relationship.

How will we employ and utilize the “tardemah”s we experience? Will we become more patient? Will we become more tolerant? Will we be receptive to getting the help we need? Will we be willing to hear the message and the word of God?

“Tardemah” is meant to prepare us for the best of the outcomes and the worst of them.

Adam needed a life partner. Avram wanted a child. Both could enhance each one’s life significantly. For Adam, the wife brought about his fall from the Garden of Eden. For Avram, the children would eventually be enslaved for hundreds of years.

There is a positive side to each story — man walked away from the Garden with a real purpose in life. Work hard, take care of your family, and you’ll eventually find your way back to the Garden of Eden.

The slaves would one day be free, their oppressors would be punished, and they would receive a Torah and become the chosen people who have survived every attempt at their destruction until today, while every enemy of every previous generation has been defeated and no longer exists.

Even if the “tardemah” seems like a bad thing at the time, 20-20 hindsight helps us see what the future really held for these two men.

Let us hope and pray that the “tardemah”s we experience in our lives can be seen through the hindsight-glasses as we experience redemption from the unconscious states, and see how the Master Plan continues to work in our favor as we anticipate the Final Redemption — may we merit to see it speedily in our days.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Maximizing Our Time

Parshat Bereishit (and a little about Noach)

From Adam until Noach, only two individuals do not reach the lofty age of 900 or its vicinity (Mahallel lived to 895). They are Hanokh and Lemekh (Noach’s father) who lived to 365 and 777, respectively. (5:23, 31) In a strange coincidence, the letters in both verses depicting their numbers of years have the same gematria (numerical value): 3022.

Is this really a coincidence?

The midrash goes into much detail about Hanokh’s short(er) life, but there are conflicting reports. Some say he was a great leader, devout, who became very close to God. Based on these accounts, one might be able to call him the first great Teshuvah leader. Other approaches, however, put Hanokh in a negative light — either that he was bad, or, as Rashi puts it, since he was about to become bad, God plucked him at the right moment.

Lemekh, on the other hand, is not viewed in quite the same manner. Rashbam begins his comment on 5:31 asking, “why do we need to count the years of the wicked?” While his answer focuses on the need to understand the passage of years from creation until the building of Solomon’s Temple, he first raises evilness in the context of speaking of Lemekh.

This may not be a proof in either direction of Lemekh’s integrity, but Lemekh stands out in another way as well. In 5:29, when his first son is born, the Torah tells us that Lemekh named his son Noach, on account of the need he felt for a new child to “bring us relief from our work and the anguish of our hands, from the soil that God has cursed.”

The language is similar to that employed by God when punishing Man for eating from the Tree of Knowledge (3:17) “The ground will therefore be cursed because of you. You will derive food from it with anguish all the days of your life.”

What is the connection between Man’s fall from the Garden of Eden and the birth of Noach? Is Hanokh connected to any labyrinth that ties together the souls of ancestors and descendants over a thousand years?

When one looks at the generations from Adam to Noach, we find that only three of the men listed in the Torah died before Noach was born — Adam, his son Shet, and Hanokh. Shet is described in 5:3 as being “just like Adam,” so, for our purposes we will just group them in the same category. After the death of Adam, Noach is the next link in the chain to be born. Perhaps Noach’s father felt there was comfort in the curse against Adam ending with his death, and that his (Lemekh’s) new son would carry evidence of the new freedom in his name.

Let us make no mistake: the Torah makes it easy to remember how long Hanokh and Lemekh lived; the number of days in the solar calendar and a repeated digit number (triple-7) respectively. And it is not just because in their own ways each fell out of the routine and the rote of the long generations, producing children and becoming noticeably different.

Whether Hanokh was good, bad, or about to turn bad, his years remind us of the cycle of the solar calendar. Every day of the year we are all confronted with opportunities to make decisions — some more important and some less. Each of us has the potential to make good choices, bad choices, or to get help before we actually make a bad choice. Perhaps Hanokh’s death at this age is meant to remind us to think of the precious value of each and every day. Relative to the people of the times he lived in, Hanokh lived a short life. But what did he accomplish through utilizing every day to its maximum potential? Think about the Arizal, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov and, more recently, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan — men who all accomplished so much but returned to their Maker much sooner than their followers were ready to part with them.

When we think of Lemekh’s years, we see the number seven, we may even think of Rabbenu B’chayei who suggests Noach’s name should have been Menachem (following the grammer of Lemekh’s logic in naming the boy).This leads us to think about Shabbos, and resting, and comforting.

If Noach’s birth was a comfort for the sins of man, then Lemekh, who noticed this and made a permanent mark on the world by specifically giving his son a name that commemorated man’s journey from sin to eventual comfort, is a person we want to remember as well. Being different, even through naming one’s child, can be a cause célèbre, a reason to be remembered. Did it really matter if he lived 777 or 900-plus years? Not at all. What’s a hundred years when you’re living for 700?

But if your death reminds people that not everything is about sweat and hard labor, that there is a day of Shabbos, that there is a child whose name means “rest” even though it’s supposed to mean “comfort,” you leave behind a legacy of real value, of real importance.

I think Hanokh and Lemekh are singled out and united — by dint of their verses of equal numerical value — because of what their legacy is meant to teach us. Either through the way they lived or the way they died, we learn that we have opportunities every day to make good choices and become better people, as we are reminded that our lives revolve around the Shabbos, a day of recuperation, rest, relaxation, comfort, and drawing closer to God.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

"Sukkot" or "No Sukkot" - That is the Question

This can also be seen in the Jewish Star
Judgment and Rejoicing

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In Vayikra 23:34, Parshat Emor, the Torah tells us that “on the 15th of the seventh month, we will celebrate the festival of Sukkot for seven days.” In Bamidbar 29:12, Parshat Pinchas, the Torah tells us that, “on the 15th day of the seventh month you’ll have a sacred holiday when no mundane work may be done. You shall celebrate a festival to G-d for seven days.” In Parshat Pinchas, the Torah’s discussion of the holidays focuses on the korbanot (sacrificial offerings) that are unique to each holiday. It also is the source for our Maftirs throughout the chag.

Why is the holiday referred to as “the festival of Sukkot” in one place, and only as a “festival” in a different place with the holiday name of “Sukkot” being left out?

The Netziv explains that the difference between the two Torah portions is the context in which the festival appears and the surrounding imagery of the festival. In essence, there is much symbolism invoked in the context of the description of the holiday in Parshat Emor (Vayikra), where an individual’s offerings are mentioned, along with the obligation to take the Four Species. The symbolic goal of the Four Species is to inspire us so we will ultimately be deserving of rain.

The Talmud (Rosh Hashana 16b) tells us that it is during the holiday of Sukkot that the world is judged for water. This judgment is reminiscent of the judgment of Rosh Hashanah, when the books of life and death are open before G-d and our lives hang in the balance.

Thus we are left to compare the times when Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot are mentioned together. We may begin with the verse “Tik’oo bachodesh shofar ba’kesseh l’yom cha’geinu“ — “Sound the shofar on the New Moon, on the appointed time for the day of our festival” (Tehillim 81:4).

While the day of the New Moon clearly refers to Rosh Hashanah, which takes place on the first of Tishrei, every indication is that the festival referred to is the holiday of Sukkot. Rosh Hashanah, after all, is never called a “chag” (festival) in the Torah.

The unanswered question is what does the word “bakesseh” mean? One approach suggests that it comes from the word “kissui” which means “to cover.” “Sound the Shofar on the New Moon to cover the festival” would be the unclear meaning of the verse. More likely, “bakesseh” means “in preparation” for the coming festival. In simple terms, when you sound the shofar on Rosh Hashanah, the day when people are judged, it sets the stage for the days when the world is judged for water, which in turn predicts the sustenance of the entire world.

In a different series of verses in which both Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot are mentioned, the prophet Hosea says, “They will not bring wine-libations of wine to G-d, their sacrifices will not be pleasing to Him. For them it will be like the bread of mourners: whoever eats it becomes impure. Let their food be for themselves, it should not come into the house of G-d. What will you do on the appointed day and on the day of G-d’s festival?” (Hoshea 9:4-5) In other words, now that the offerings are not being accepted, what will you do at the appointed day, meaning for Rosh Hashanah? Here too, G-d’s festival (Chag Hashem) refers to Sukkot.

Simply put, Rosh Hashanah is mentioned along with Sukkot when Rosh Hashanah acts as an introduction to Sukkot and plays a role in making Sukkot a memorable experience for the Jewish people. In Parshat Pinchas, however, the holiday is mentioned in the context of the 70 offerings which are brought as a tribute to the 70 nations of the world (Talmud Bavli Sukkah 55b). Since their success is not dependent on the behavior of the Jewish people on Rosh Hashanah, the names of the holidays need not be mentioned.

Perhaps the question is better than the answer. But there is a deeper lesson we can apply here as well. Rosh Hashanah may or not be connected to the way Sukkot plays out in terms of how the world is judged water-wise. But the holiday of Sukkot certainly fits into the category of “being what we make it.” In our times one can make the argument that the offerings of the holiday of Sukkot no more serve the nations of the world than they do us. After all, we don’t bring them because there is no Beit Hamikdash.

But when we celebrate the holiday for ourselves, we have the option to inject the extra “simcha” (joy) that comes Biblically mandated with the holiday, or reject it. We can seek out the celebrations, or we can sit at home every night and pass chol hamoed as if it is just another weeknight.

Will we cash in on the success of Rosh Hashanah for Sukkot? Or will we let it ride itself slowly out the door until Cheshvan shuts the door of Tishrei forever, accepting our fate as it is?

The stakes are too high. We need to rejoice, we need to see how the name of the holiday of Sukkot is forever connected to Rosh Hashanah.

Friday, September 17, 2010

A Yom Kippur Retrospective

Mesirat Nefesh for the Sake of God

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A very experienced rabbi once told me that for the Neilah period, the last chapter of Yom Kippur – the final prayer, the setting sun, the last grab at the straw of life for the coming year – it is important to focus the attention of the mitpal’lim (those who are praying) in a direction that may help answer the questions we might not necessarily speak about on the holy day: were my prayers answered? Will my commitments to change work? Will G-d accept my teshuvah? How will I know what I need to do to actualize the things I’ve prayed for and personally committed to do in this coming year?

I heard this idea from Rabbi Avner Kavas, a renowned speaker in Israel.

There is a gemara which was made famous by Yossi Green, who put it to music, and Avraham Fried, who recorded it and sung it around the world. On Brachot 7a, the Talmud records “Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha (the High Priest) said, ‘Once when I entered the holy of holies to burn the k’toret (on Yom Kippur), I saw Akasriel – G-d sitting on His lofty throne. He said to me, 'Yishmael, my son. Bless me!' I said to him, 'May it be Your will that your mercy should overcome Your anger, and your mercy should overcome all of your attributes as you practice mercy towards your children…' And he responded to me with [a nod of] His head.'”

Can you imagine G-d saying to a human being – “Bless Me?” Is there anyone who would not want to give birth to a child who, one day, will be asked by G-d to bless Him? How does one merit to be blessed with such a child?

There are midrashic accounts of Rabbi Yishmael’s parents – Otzar Midrashim (Niddah, page 400), and in the Or Zarua (Volume One, Alpha Beta, on letters zayin and chet). Elisha, Yishmael’s father, was very careful to go to the mikvah regularly. Originally, however, every child born to Elisha and his wife did not survive. His wife asked him, “Why do all these other righteous people have children, and we do not even have one?” He answered, “Because they and their wives are very careful about going to the mikvah – they observe it with their lives on the line.” She said, “We too will observe this as if our lives depend on it.” They accepted upon themselves to do so.

Let us take a pause and remember that the mikvahs in those days were not like the heated, filtered, beautiful mikvahs we have today. They were either murky and gross, or it was a natural spring, river or lake that was very cold. In some cases in history, particularly in Europe, Jewish women would have to break the ice in order to do their requisite monthly dunking. Men who went daily had similar trials, except in the morning rather than at night.

Returning to our tale: Once when Elisha's wife went to the mikvah, after she emerged she encountered a pig - a ritually impure animal. So she went again. Upon emerging, she encountered a metzora (a person afflicted with the spiritual ailment called "tzara'at"), so she went again. 40 (it may be an exaggeration, but nonetheless a large number of) times she went through this ritual until G-d told the angel Gavriel to descend and stand before this righteous woman who had been through enough; she will become pregnant tonight with a boy who will become Yishmael Kohen Gadol.

When she emerged, instead of an impure encounter, she came across the angel Gavriel, who appeared to her in an image that looked like her husband - a welcome change from all the impure encounters she had experienced. After she returned home, she became pregnant and eventually gave birth to a son who was blessed with the true countenance of the angel Gavriel - like every mother's dream to have her son look like an angel.

In the laws of Tevillah (dunking in the mikvah), a woman who sees something which is tameh (ritually impure) does not need to go back to the mikvah after she has immersed. Given the state of the mikvah in those days, each return to the mikvah was almost like putting her life in the hands of G-d.

But she went back, perhaps 40 times, to do the mitzvah right.

This is what we call mesirat nefesh — being able to do something right, even though it is difficult. To have the fortitude to say, “I am going to sacrifice myself for the sake of G-d.”

In the case of Elisha and his wife, they merited a son who was asked by G-d to bless Him.

If we commit to literally be mosair nefesh, to sacrifice of ourselves in body and spirit, for the sake of G-d, what kinds of merits will we have coming to us? Maybe the answer to this question is the answer to our original questions: Were my prayers answered? Will my commitments to change work? Will G-d accept my teshuvah? How will I know what I need to do to actualize the things I’ve prayed for and personally committed to do in this coming year?

If we are willing to sacrifice our hearts and souls for G-d, we’ll be moving in the proper direction. How do we achieve that?

The answer to this question can only be provided by each individual about his or her self.

Let us contemplate this thought during Neilah, to inspire ourselves for the coming year.

Yom HaZikaron - Remembering What

This can also be read in the Jewish Star

A Rosh Hashana Message

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Arguably the most enigmatic of the names of Rosh Hashanah is Yom Hazikaron. It is the concluding phrase of most of the blessings unique to the day, and it is also the inserted phrase in Yaaleh V’yavo and kiddush.

What is being remembered and who is remembering?

When one reads through the selichot, particularly those of the Aseret Y’mei Teshuvah, you can’t help notice the constant mention of the Akeidah story, which also is the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah, as well as an oft-repeated shout-out to the “Bris Avraham.”

In essence, it seems, the Day of Remembrance is for G-d to recall why He loves us so much. He loves the Jewish people because He loved our forefathers: Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. He committed to a special relationship with them and their descendants.

The story of the Akeidah, the binding of Yitzchak, is also something we want G-d to recall on this holy day. Recall the ultimate sacrifice of the most devout Jew who ever lived. The Gemara (Sanhedrin 111a) recalls one of G-d’s laments when He is confronted by Moshe. G-d says “How I miss those who are gone but not forgotten!” Translation: Avraham and the other forefathers took my instruction and never complained about anything. With Avraham, the first of the lot, there were no questions asked. Avraham was willing to give up the son he had yearned for his entire life in order to serve G-d.

Yitzchak too underwent tremendous stress in order to achieve his maximum potential. Sacrificing yourself is not easy, but he was ready to do it in deference to what seemed to be G-d’s will. We ask G-d to remember that as well when He considers our fates on this day.

We ask G-d to remember the forefathers, so He will look upon us favorably. When you love someone because you loved their parents first, it is easy to see past their flaws and to recognize that their flaws are not so terrible, because you know from whose stock they emerged.

On a different note, the Gemarah (Brachot 29a) tells us “On Rosh Hashana, Sarah, Rachel and Chana were remembered.” This rounds out the greater picture of the Torah and Haftarah readings of the day. The first day’s Torah reading demonstrates Sarah’s joy over the birth of her son Yitzchak. The first day’s Haftarah reading is the story of Chana. The Haftarah relates how Rachel cried for her children, and how Ephraim, her “chosen” grandson, will be remembered by G-d.

However, the story lines blur when we actually compare the stories. Sarah yearned for a child for many years, and eventually gave Avraham her maid as a spouse so a child could be brought into the family. Rachel brought Bilhah into the relationship with her husband for a similar anticipated outcome.

In a different parallel, Rachel had to sit and watch while her rival wife, her sister Leah, gave birth to child after child. Chana, also the preferred wife in a polygamous marriage, similarly watched her rival wife Peninah give birth to 10 children.

It could not have been easy for Chana or for Rachel. Yet they both took matters into their own hands when they realized their husband would be of no help in their attempts to reach their goal of motherhood, of creating life.

Chana offered the anticipated child to G-d and promised that his hair would never be cut. Rabbi Yaakov Medan points out that Yosef, Rachel’s son, is called a “N’zir echav” (Bereishit 49:26) and may have also been a product of a prayer and a promise to not have his hair cut, for him to be dedicated to G-d.

Whether it is a lesson of how to pray, or a lesson of complete devotion and dedication to G-d and doing His will, on Rosh Hashanah we are meant to learn from these great fathers and mothers of our people. It is not “only” the fathers or “only” the mothers; both men and women play a pivotal role in how this day turns out for themselves and for our collective people as a whole.

Let us pray that this Rosh Hashanah be a successful one for all of us. May the merits of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and Sarah, Rachel and Chana stand as a merit for us all. May G-d remember us the way He remembered them, and fulfill our hopes and dreams for the good in this coming new year.

Finally, may He bless and guard over the people of the State of Israel, our brothers and sisters, who need His protection most of all. May He give their leaders keen insight to know what to do to respond to terrorism and to carry the country of the Jewish people into a peaceful safety for the future.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Hypocritical Thinking

This also appears in the Jewish Star

Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech


Repentance: heart and soul

By Rabbi Avi Billet

This Saturday night, the Ashkenazic communities begin to say Selichot in preparation for Rosh Hashana. Sephardim have been saying them since Rosh Chodesh Elul. I’ll never forget the first night of Selichot in my yeshiva in Israel, when Rav Yehuda Amital, z”l, who passed away less than two months ago, would lead the yeshiva in his unique style of presenting the traditional melodies.

I am sure I was not alone with the eerie sensation I’d feel up my spine as the hairs on the neck would stand up as the collective voice of the students of the yeshiva filled with awe and trepidation as they responded to the kaddish.

It could be that yeshiva students go through the motions really well. And it could be that, as Israelis, the percentage of people who understood every word they were saying shattered the percentages of every group with whom I’d experienced selichot before that.

One could easily be inspired to feel the need to do “teshuvah” – literally to return to G-d as much as possible in the waning hours of the final days of the year leading into Rosh Hashana.

Our parsha speaks of the day when “You will return to G-d… with all your heart and with all your soul.” (30:2) This phrase is reminiscent of the commandment to love G-d with all your heart and soul (Devarim 6:5) as well as other similar commitments to G-d (4:29, 10:12, 26:16, 30:10). The commentaries talk about the greatness of teshuvah (repentance), mostly quoting the Talmud (Yoma 86a-b) which includes a number of qualities of teshuvah: “It brings healing to the world, it reaches the Throne of Glory, forgives violations, brings the redemption close, purposeful sins are judged like accidents (Resh Lakish says they are viewed as merits!), it lengthens a person’s days.”

The most simplistic way of looking at teshuvah is considering there are two ways one can sin: against G-d and against one’s fellow man. Teshuvah, therefore, consists of repairing those relationships and committing to do things that will indicate you are sticking with the promise of the new you.

I call this “hypocritical thinking.” I heard a story that the Gaon of Vilna would pay someone to tell him in what way he needs to improve. Who would otherwise criticize the Vilna Gaon?

Recognizing that we all need reminders now and then, and acknowledging that I am guilty of a number of these myself, here are a few questions for consideration, offered free of charge.

Are we careful to wash, but forget to bentch?

Are we careful to make sure there is a mashgiach in a kosher restaurant? And then do we allow ourselves to eat a soup or salad in a non-kosher restaurant – where there is surely no mashgiach?

Do we admonish others who say lashon hara about us? But don’t admonish ourselves when we participate in similar conversations about others?

Do we raise our eyebrows at those who come late to shul, but don’t back it up with coming on time ourselves?

Do we facilitate growth in learning and spirituality – giving our spouses the chance to attend the classes they want to or need to attend?

Do we spend our spare time catching up on missed TV shows? Do we spend any spare time catching up on Torah study (parsha, daf yomi, halakha learning)?

Do we send our kids to yeshiva, complaining about tuition, and then make $50,000 bar mitzvah bashes, or six figure weddings?

Do we scream about modesty and the need to dress a certain way, and then forget about the same rules when they’re inconvenient for us? (The story of the woman with the bikini and the tichel on Miami Beach during Pesach vacation always struck me as ironic.)

Do we use the computer for learning and for business, but also for…?

Do we set aside time for learning once a week? Do we set aside time for poker once a week? Do we learn and play poker together within the same hour and a half? (Perhaps there are merits. On the other hand, maybe Talmud and poker are contradictory to one another.)

A thought for all the roshei yeshiva and rabbis – can we learn to say things that are permitted and to teach the “way we do things” as opposed to focusing on all the things that are “assur,” prohibited?

Do we judge people favorably, giving them the benefit of the doubt? Or do we focus on their negative qualities and make all kinds of assumptions about them?

Do we honor and respect our children as much as we expect them to honor and respect us?

Living a purely honorable existence is near-impossible. Never doing anything wrong is impossible. But we ought to give it the best shot we can. As human beings, we are capable of more; we are capable of being better. We are capable of living to the beat of a more consistent drum.

Let us take these thoughts to mind and heart, and commit to doing teshuva, with all our heart and with all our soul.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Closing Remarks

This can also be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Ki Savo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

My grandmother gets “nachas” from reading this weekly dvar Torah. She told me a few times that one of the things she enjoys doing when reading her weekly fix is to skip to the end and read the last paragraph first. It makes sense – that’s where the crux of the message is usually embedded. And knowing me as well as she does, she enjoys hearing her grandson’s voice come off the page in a style she has known my whole life.

This week the closing paragraph is not my language, so perhaps my Babi will not “shep” the same nachas. But I trust Moshe Rabbeinu’s words will provide a similar zinger to get her heart pumping.

How Biblical characters finish their important speeches is an amazing phenomenon to consider. What are the last words they say, with what message do they leave their intended audience?

Perhaps King Solomon did it best in Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) when, after a roller coaster of emotions, ranging from complete despair and disillusionment to fits of happiness, Solomon famously concludes, “The end of the matter, after all is heard, is that one should fear G-d and observe His commandments, for that is what humanity is all about.”

The haftorah of Parshat Balak ends on a similar note, with the words of the prophet Micha (6:8): “He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d.”

And in our parsha, we have Moshe.

The book of Devarim is divided into a few sections, but the largest one is unquestionably Moshe’s farewell address that spans from chapter 5 through chapter 26. You will not find an instruction from G-d or the word “vayomer” (and he said) because it is all one big speech.

Regarding Moshe’s final message in this section, a series of four verses that are grouped together as the third aliyah in Ki Tavo, Rabbi J.H. Hertz writes, “Such is the glorious distinction in store for an Israel that is obedient and loyal. The idea is elaborated in 28:10, ‘And all the people of the earth shall see that the name of the Lord is called upon thee…’ See Exodus 19:6 ‘And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’”

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch expands on this with a similar idea: “Israel belongs exclusively to Him [G-d], no other power has dominion over Israel… Once it has proven itself a faithful guardian of His law, [the people Israel] will be given a place in world history far above all the other nations He has created… Israel’s appearance shall be for G-d as a name… it shall make known G-d’s name, for Israel walks among the nations with the book of His revealed laws and teachings in its hand… Israel must be a holy nation committed only to what is morally good and pleasing in G-d’s sight, and this duty devolves on every one of its members. Thus, if Israel should ever betray its sacred mission, the smallest child from the other nations of the world could remind it of its mission and of its duty.”

One gets goose bumps reading these things. And a little antsy – what is it that Moshe says when he finishes his big speech? What is his final thought before changing the subject of the last 21 chapters leading into his tying up all loose ends in the final chapters of the Torah? Perhaps, we can all think, if we were to give a four-sentence closing statement trying to sell Judaism, and more importantly a Torah lifestyle, how would we do it?

Here is Moshe’s parting thought as he leaves the podium from his “last lecture.” (see here and the text from this lecture)

“Today G-d your Lord is commanding you to obey all these rules and laws. You must carefully keep them with all your heart and with all your soul. Today you have declared allegiance to G-d, making Him your G-d and [pledging to] walk in His paths, keep His decrees, commandments and laws, and to obey His voice. G-d has similarly declared allegiance to you today, making you His special nation as He promised you. If you keep all His commandments, He will make you the highest of all the nations He brought into existence, for praise, fame and glory (yours? His?). You will remain a nation consecrated to G-d your Lord, as He promised.”

Wow.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Jewish Honor Killings?

This also appears in the Jewish Star

Parshat Ki Tetze
By Rabbi Avi Billet

The “controversial” cover photo on the Aug. 9 issue of Time featured the face of a young Afghani woman whose nose has been cut off. Though we can’t see it, apparently her husband, the man who cut off her nose, also removed her ears in the Taliban-commissioned attack on the 18-year-old.

The magazine editor defended using the photo, for which the young woman posed, saying the world needs to know what returning power to the Taliban in Afghanistan will mean. This and “honor killings” will be run-of-the-mill in a society governed by Sharia law.

Perhaps Muslim fanatics who have no respect for life are irrelevant to us – they are free to do to their own people what they want.

We don’t really believe that, of course, but let’s leave the “what can we do?” question to the politicians to fight over for now.

The issue is relevant, however, when we look at Devarim 22:21. If a “na’arah” wife is accused of infidelity during her betrothal period, her husband and her family may each present their case. The Torah tells us what the husband’s punishment is for fabricating the tale, and then the Torah explains what happens if the accusation is proven true: “They will take the young lady to the doorway of her father’s home, and the people of the city will stone her until she dies. She has brought sexual immorality to her father’s house, doing a shameful thing in Israel. You must therefore rid yourself of the evil in your midst.”

Though a modern society might somewhat justify her behavior – she was experimenting, she was young and innocent, she didn’t know what she was doing – let us agree that her faithlessness is deplorable behavior; after all, a betrothal is a commitment.

But the death penalty? And in such a fashion? Could the Torah be serious?

By our standards the text alone is insufficient. The Oral Tradition (Torah She’baal Peh) and Rabbinic explanation help us understand the text more clearly.

“An eye for an eye,” for example, is rabbinically interpreted as a monetary punishment.

While that is not the case here – if guilty, the girl will die – the circumstances to bring about capital punishment are so difficult to achieve that the punishment as written is virtually impossible to carry out.

Valid witnesses (who cannot be related to either of the perpetuators or biased in any way) need to warn would-be perpetrators that the act they are about to commit is a Torah prohibition, for which the punishment is “x.” The act needs to be witnessed and then presented to the court without contradiction. The court must have the power to carry out capital punishment, which is not the case in our society where rabbinic courts are primarily limited to monetary arbitration, conversions and divorce cases.

In our case, the girl has to be the age of a “na’arah” – between twelve and twelve-and-a-half – a very small window of time. Much as the Rebellious Son (Ben Sorer u’Moreh) (21:18-21) was never killed (Sanhedrin 71a) – it stands to reason our case was also meant to be taught as a lesson in morality, without ever coming to practice.

Besides, the last mishnah in Makkot chapter 1 indicates, in essence, that Jewish courts did not carry out capital punishment.

In our day, therefore, no one can ever interpret these verses literally. Other than saving someone’s life from a direct danger, no individual may take the law into his own hands.

The guilty girl committed a horrible act. “Her offense is to all of Israel for not upholding the moral standards for which we are most proud.” (Sifrei) Whether it is her fault depends on how much we accept that a “na’arah” has understanding of the repercussions of her deeds. Some will say she has disgraced her family; others will argue in her defense. Surely her family taught her to conduct herself otherwise. Or did they?

The punishment takes place on her family’s doorstep – not to protect their honor, but to shame them. And it is carried out by the entire nation, not by her husband or family. The Talmud in Ketubot (45a) says the crowd exclaims “Look at the offspring you have raised!” In other words, you parents failed in the education of your daughter. Does the family want their daughter dead? Of course not. The lesson is not that Judaism believes in honor killings. We abhor the thought and distance the idea.

But we do believe in a strong education, in living by a set of values that are immutable. And, most importantly, in passing our values to the next generation.

Had the girls’ parents educated her properly, this never would have come about.

There is no room for hypocrisy. If we are to sustain Judaism as we know it, we can no longer afford to hear stories of infidelity of any kind. Children learn to do the things they see, and are very well aware of when we contradict ourselves – preaching one way as we practice another. We must live the lives we know the Torah depicts as ideal because through these guidelines our lives will not only be filled with meaning but will stand as a blessing to ourselves and everyone around us.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Tamim = A Complete Education

This also appears in the Jewish Star

Parshat Shoftim
by Rabbi Avi Billet

I’ve always marveled at the notion that Jewish men or women do not need to get any education beyond a Torah education. The thought that we might close off our brains or deprive ourselves of G-d’s gifts to this world is anathema to my existence, especially when we live in a time when knowledge is so readily accessible.

However, one need not leave the walls of the Beis Medrash to discover that people like Maimonides, Nachmanides, the Gaon of Vilna and others were heavily steeped in sciences and non-Torah subject matters — in addition to their being top-notch Torah scholars.

In Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach’s responsa on electric matters, he often spends dozens of pages describing the mechanics and technical matters of scientific realities before entering the realm of halakhic discourse.

The Talmud (Shabbat 75a) and the Sifrei (170) say that while one may not learn the ways of the other nations of Canaan in order to practice their ways, “One is permitted to learn about the things they do, to understand and to teach” a proper path. Of course, “their practices” refer to activities which are specifically polytheistic, pagan, or ritualistic — outside the pale of Judaism. But if the knowledge one will gain will make a person more well-rounded, the Talmud seems to be giving the learner its blessing.

The Talmud Shabbat takes this idea a step further and says that a person who does not learn about the seasons and constellations is not fulfilling a mitzvah of Devarim 4:6.
Amazingly, one of the criteria for a person to be appointed to the Sanhedrin is that he have an understanding of witchcraft and magic (Sanhedrin 17a, bottom), (Menachot 65a, top).

The common denominator of these bullet points is the allowance, the acceptance, and the necessity of having a general education beyond one’s Torah education.

This discussion stems from a fundamental interpretation of Devarim 18:9-13. “When you come to the land G-d gives you, do not learn to do the abominable acts of those nations. [Here the Torah lists kinds of necromancy, sorcery and magic.] Anyone who does these is perverting an abomination against G-d. It is these activities that are causing the nations to be chased out of the land. Be ‘tamim’ with Hashem your G-d.”

On “Do not learn to do the… acts” Rashi quotes the Talmud cited above to suggest we are in need of an education to know what is out there, so we can act accordingly and know how G-d wants us to behave, as well as the behaviors G-d abhors.

Therefore I would like to suggest that “Tamim Tihyeh Im Hashem Elokekha” means “Be complete with Hashem your G-d” in the sense of having as well-rounded an education one can have. Being complete means we have a life-long task of educating ourselves about not only Torah, but anything which can be defined as a G-d-given science.

Whether it is astrology, philosophy, political science, rules of governance, understanding the stars and the zodiac (Ramban has a lengthy commentary on this section of the parsha in which he intimates that these magic “sciences” are real and were put on earth for a purpose – just not a Jewish purpose), mathematics, biology, chemistry, physics, medicine, health – all of these are available to us to study and to understand, so we can have a complete knowledge of G-d and His world.

How will we know what to do with it all? The next verses in the parsha say we are to be guided by a prophet, just like Moshe.

In our days there are no prophets for us to follow. We have, on the other hand, a legacy of right and wrong, of the proper path versus the improper path, of what is pleasing to G-d versus what is not pleasing to G-d.

What is unacceptable, however, is to write off knowledge of the world as “goyish,” and to claim that pursuit of ideas which do not smack of Torah is to be avoided because it is something a Jew “doesn’t do.”

Not everyone needs to be a professor or scholar, but to avoid intellectual pursuits using Torah as an excuse is, at least according to one passage from the Talmud, the equivalent of not fulfilling of a mitzvah.

Remember the slogan of the United Negro College Fund since 1972: “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.”

Taking Off Our Tefillin on Rosh Chodesh

I thought about this question again today - as it is Rosh Chodesh, so here is a link to my discussion of this around a year ago.

Since doing this research, I came across this article from my old yeshiva, which essentially makes the same points.
Here is the link - the quoted text (everything below) is at the end of the page there

On Rosh Chodesh we take off our tefillin before musaf for one of two possible reasons:

(1) The Beit Yosef say that it is because in musaf we say "keter" in kedusha and it is not appropriate simultaneously to wear the "crown" of tefillin; or

(2) The Radbaz (responsa vol. IV, 80) and the Levush (423) explain that since musaf is in place of the musaf offering of the day, and since Rosh Chodesh is similar to Yom Tov (when tefillin are not worn), we refrain from wearing tefillin at least during the time which corresponds to the time of the sacrifice.

One possible difference between these two would come to light in the case of one who does not say "keter" in kedusha. However, see the Rema who writes that such a person too should nevertheless take off his tefillin before musaf (see also M.B. 25:62).

If one started to pray musaf, forgetting to take off his tefillin, see M.B. 25:61 (although the Zohar in Pinchas warned that one who prays musaf with his tefillin on is subject to a very great punishment).

When should one take them off on Rosh Chodesh?
The Mishna Berura here (25:59) and in Hilkhot Rosh Chodesh (423:10) brings several minhagim: (1) After the kaddish which precedes musaf. (2) Before musaf, in "u-va le-tzion go'el," right before "Yehi ratzon ... she-nishmor chukekha" (in order not to interrupt between kaddish and musaf). (3) One should take the straps off his finger before "Yehi razon" and take the tefillin off after kaddish.

It appears to me that most people follow option (1), but each individual should gauge his own dexterity in the removal of tefillin and make sure to have them off in time to begin musaf with the congregation.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Shelo Asani Ishah and Others [Part 2]

Part I on this topic can be found here


At a bris I did recently, the baby's grandfather said to me, "What blessing does a girl say at a bris?"

I didn't know.

"Shelo asani BOY." (for not having made me a boy)

Cute joke. [If you don't get the joke, you can see the explanation here, which will lead you back to this page]

But it got me thinking, once again, about the morning blessings, and that o-so controversial blessing of "Shelo Asani Ishah" – for not having made me a woman. I've written about this blessing before – and in response to this article, I penned a letter which the Jewish Week actually published in their print edition, but which has somehow since disappeared from their website


To the Editor:

In general, blessings are more “acknowledgement” than “thanks.” As such, you need not feel guilt or speak silently when you state, point of fact, that God did not make you a woman. Women recite a parallel blessing acknowledging God for “having made me according to His will.”

If I were to make something "according to my will," the object I would make would be the absolute best, the most perfect, without flaw and error. One of the reasons suggested for why women do not need to be circumcised, an act which finally made Abraham perfect and “Tamim” - complete (Genesis 17:1), is because they are born physically perfect and complete. (Obviously, with all the flaws that “all” humans have.)

Think of what you are saying this way:
"God, you did not make me a woman. You made me something else, and there are all kinds of things that I need to do to overcome desires and to correct and improve myself. Sometimes I need commandments to help me do this. I need to pray harder and I need to work harder because spirituality and a connection to You does not come as easily as it does to a woman. This is hard. This is rough. But this is the way You made it. And so I bless You, for Your eternal wisdom.”

Now who has a better blessing?
Avi Billet

A simple Google search brought me to this posting - which is well worth the read. The author addresses a suggestion of a left-leaning Orthodox rabbi who suggests changing the siddur to less controversial language, as it were. Read, and decide for yourself.

Here is my new thought on the matter – which may be extremely farfetched, but hopefully you can't deny its creativity.

Brachos 60b

When one looks at the morning blessings, it is clear that they all share a commonality related to one's morning experience and routine upon waking up. They all begin "blessed are You, Hashem, King of the world, who..."

* Gives the rooster (some translate as "brain") the understanding to determine between day and night
* Did not make me a "goy" (part of a different nation)
* Did not make me an "eved" (generally translated as "slave" - one subject to a human master)
* Did not make me a woman
* Opens the eyes of the blind
* Clothes the naked
* Frees the bound
* Straightens the crooked
* Spreads the earth upon the waters
* Provided me all my needs
* Firms man's footsteps
* Girds Israel with strength
* Crowns Israel with splendor
* Gives strength to the weary
* Removes sleep from my eyes and slumber from my eyelids

Then we call upon the God of our forefathers to help us have a good day, without too much trouble or challenge and to bestow kindness upon us. We conclude with a prayer that asks for us to be rescued from evil or mishap, whether it come from someone who is a member of the covenant or not a member of the covenant.

The Talmud in Brachot (60b) explains that many of these blessings are meant to be said in the context of one going through one's morning rituals.

When morning comes "Who gives the rooster (or brain) knowledge to differentiate between day and night." When you actually open your eyes "Opens the eyes of the blind." When you begin to get up "Frees the bound." When you stand up and stretch, "Straightens the crooked." When you put your feet on the ground/earth "Spreads earth upon the waters" – for making there be land for me to stand on, as opposed to living in the sea. When you get dressed "Clothes the naked." When you walk "Firms man's footsteps." When you put on your shoes "He provided me all my needs." When fastening one's belt "Girds Israel with strength." When you put on your hat or head covering "Crowns Israel with splendor." When washing the face "Removes sleep from my eyes and slumber from my eyelids."

It is noted, of course, that the three blessings whose gist begins "Shelo asani" – for not having made me "x" – are not discussed in this Talmudic passage. They are addressed separately in Menachos 43b.

Menachos 43b

In Menachos, there is a debate as to the language of the blessings. As what we have in the siddur is the most mainstream, it is fairly obvious which approach became normative.

The gemara debates the merits of the blessings and essentially feels we ought to say all three to help us say 100 blessings in a day (different discussion). If we start questioning some of the blessings, we'll start removing some of them and lower the number of blessings we have the opportunity to say.

One of the main points the gemara seems to draw from the simple wording in the negative "For not having made me a gentile, slave, or woman" is that this refers to levels of obligation in mitzvos. I've already discussed this point in my original posting (also linked to above).

Another main point is that when we bless God "for not having made me 'x'" we are saying "'X' is a good thing. I am not 'x' and so I bless God." [Remember that the Gemara in Brachos continues with the passage about "A person's obligation to bless God for the bad just as one blesses God for the good." Admittedly, the gemara speaks of the blessing "Dayan Ha'emes" - which is the blessing one says upon hearing bad news, such as of someone's passing. Nonetheless, the principle is still true.]

Is it good to be a gentile? If one is a gentile, yes.

Is it good to be a slave? If one is treated well by one's master – there are merits. You never have to worry about your home (rent, mortgage, keeping a roof over your head), expenses, finding a wife, how many children you will or won't have.

Is it good to be a woman? Ask most women, they wouldn't give it up for the world.

I'll make an admission – there are times when I "thank" God, not just acknowledge God, for not having made me a gentile, slave or woman. This usually happens when they do something I could never envision myself doing or wanting to do – and I thank God that I am not that way. Not that there's anything particularly wrong with it – but it is something I could never see myself wanting to be part of my life. "Thank God I am not that." (I can't imagine not being ready to go somewhere unless I've put on makeup, for example. I can also not imagine living in a culture where people might say "I don't trust a man who won't drink with me.")

The gemara in Menachos doesn't go into more detail as to why we say these blessings or when we say them.

Which brings me to the creative idea which was inspired by the joke.

Creative Thinking 101

In the context in which all the blessings appear, we are looking at the things a person experiences in the morning. The gemara in Brachos does not explain the "Shelo Asani" trilogy, but since our siddur lumps them into the other blessings, I think it is fair to suggest they also refer to one's observations of one's morning routine.

And I think we can suggest that all three blessings are a certain acknowledgement regarding bris milah (circumcision), which might be otherwise inappropriate to discuss in the gemara. But, at least for a man, it is a significant component of what he confronts in his morning routine.

We do have a blessing of "asher yatzar" [see also this cool poster] which is to be recited after one relieves oneself in the restroom. But these blessings ("Shelo Asani"s) are acknowledgment before appreciation that my body functions appropriately.

And they are listed in the negative because as much as I enjoy mitzvahs, I recognize that circumcision is a mitzvah that I might otherwise prefer not to have gone through – because honestly… - but I do it because You commanded me to do so.

New Explanations
Shelo Asani Goy – I acknowledge that You did not make me a gentile who does not have this mitzvah of bris milah (circumcision). Implication – I acknowledge my lot to have such a mitzvah and I am grateful for it.

Shelo Asani Aved – According to the Torah, even a slave is circumcised. But he is circumcised when he is acquired, which could be as an adult. Implication – If I am to be circumcised, I am grateful that this didn't happen the way it does to slaves, ie as adults. As a newborn, I don't remember it, I didn't feel all that much, and I had twenty four hour care from a mother who saw to my every need.

Shelo Asani Ishah – A woman, for obvious reasons is not circumcised. As a rebbe of mine said to my oldest child, a girl, when he first met her when she was a baby, "You are so lucky your father never did anything to you," or as the joke says "Shelo Asani Boy." I acknowledge that, not being a woman, I am subject to this surgical foreskin removal. Would I have necessarily wanted it, had they asked me when I was a baby? Who knows? But I acknowledge that you didn't make me a woman - over whom, thank God, there isn't even a possibility. In my male Jewish life, there was no option. I was going to be circumcised, and I am circumcised. I merit to bear this mark of the covenant.

The reason we don't say "She'asani Ish" [for having made me a man] therefore, is because we don't "Acknowledge" or "Thank" God for putting us through a painful procedure. We acknowledge for not having made it otherwise. [A point to consider, as proof, is that on the day of a bris we don't say tachanun, in celebration of the mitzvah which is being performed. But unlike other days when tachanun is omitted, we still say "Lam'natzay'ach" which acknowledges a "day of pain" (yom tzarah), which is what the baby is experiencing.]

Finally, this explains very nicely why a woman's blessing is "She'asani Kirtzono" - for having made me according to His will. Abraham was told by God in Genesis 17 "Walk before me and become perfect." Most interpretations say that Abraham became perfect through undergoing his circumcision. Translation – woman, as a physical specimen, is created perfect and need not undergo any corrective surgery to "perfect" herself in God's eyes.

The more I think of it, the more I am convinced the women got a much better blessing.

If we could only stop thinking the rabbis were out to get us, we could move on with our lives and be so much happier.

Another interesting suggestion can be found here (link goes to myjewishlearning.com)

Thursday, August 5, 2010

A Communal Priority

This was published by the Jewish Star

Parshat Re'eh

Who is the most desperate, destitute member of the Jewish society?

It’s a loaded question and there is no correct answer. Unless you specify from whose perspective. The pauper feels he is most destitute. Every collector who comes to my door thinks their story is the most important tale of woe. Maybe the person who needs life-saving surgery, or the one on the waiting list for an organ is most needy.

All of these are certainly important cases, and when possible, we ought to help in whatever way we can.

From the Torah’s perspective, there are a group of people who we are to keep in mind because, unlike those who come to our doors to collect — who are able to do something for themselves — there are those who can’t, thereby rendering them projects for the Jewish community to lovingly support.

Numerous times in our parsha we are given lists of who we should support. While some of those who we need to look out for are fairly obvious, the widow and orphan for example, the ones that round out the various lists are “your sons and daughters, your male and female servants, the ‘ger’ (stranger? Proselyte?) and the Levite.” (See Devarim 12:12,18; 14:29; 16:11,14)

Specifically, the Levite seems to be the common denominator, and is often mentioned alone (12:19; 14:27; mentioned apart from the group in 14:29).

While caring for one’s children is an obvious priority for any parent, and the responsibility of caring for those who serve you — servants or slaves — is elementary to a compassionate Jew, why does the Levite get such special attention?

The simple answer is given in the Torah in numerous places. In the realm of inheritance and tribal property, the tribe of Levi were given cities, but were otherwise left out of the divisions of the rest of the nation. (see Bamidbar 18:23-24 Devarim 10:8-9; 12:12; 14:27; 18:2)

The Rambam (Maimonides) takes this a step further and provides us with an answer to our question with a contemporary twist.

At the end of the laws of Shmittah and Yovel (13:12-13), Rambam writes:

“Levi did not merit to inherit the land or the spoils of war because they were separated to do the service of G-d, to serve Him and to teach His straight ways, and his righteous laws to the masses, as it says ‘He will teach [G-d’s] laws to Jacob and His Torah to Israel.’ Thus they were removed from the ways of the world. They do not engage in battles, they do not inherit land, and they do not merit privileges through their own might. They are G-d’s army — and G-d personally gives them merits when He says ‘I am your portion and your inheritance.’”

“And it is not only the Levites. Rather, any man of the world who donates his spirit and understands of his own knowledge to separate himself and to stand before G-d, to serve Him and arrive at knowledge of G-d… and he removes from himself the burden of financial accountings, he has sanctified himself to be the holiest of holies and G-d becomes his portion forever. He will merit — in this world — to have stability and no worries, just as the Kohen and Levi have.”
The Levites were not kollel-leit. They didn’t choose to be Levites — they were born Levites, limited in the work they could do, and were mandated by G-d to be supported by the community. They were teachers, scholars, and role models.

In our day, in the absence of the Temple, these roles have been filled by our teachers and rabbis. These professions are often thankless jobs, in many cases filled by people who have chosen this life because of their desire to teach and help Jews advance their personal Jewish experiences.

The Levites made whatever effort G-d allowed them, and were singled out by G-d as a top priority of people needing support from the community.

There is a need to support those who sacrifice and dedicate themselves to the community. These are not the individuals who sit in a yeshiva all day; not the individuals who choose to “only learn” when they are by no means the “best and the brightest” destined to be great Torah leaders. If they do not dedicate their time and their Torah knowledge to share with others, they are not the contemporary Levites.

But those who make an impact, who are in the trenches with the general population, who sacrifice glory and wealth to help others get closer to G-d are worthy of being the beneficiaries of the words of Devarim 12:19: “Be careful, lest you leave behind the Levite all your days on your land.”

Friday, July 30, 2010

Everyone, Shlit"a

This was also published in the Jewish Star

Parshat Eikev

Other than former current events, nothing dates a Jewish book more than when discussing or quoting a deceased great rabbi, the text writes "Rabbi So and So, Shlit'a, says…"

The term "Shlit'a" is an acronym for "She'yichyeh L'Yamim Tovim Arukhim" – that he should live for good, lengthened days. Essentially it is a wish upon the person that he have a long and blessed life, a term which is out of place when one is speaking of or reading of the deceased.

While it is a lovely sentiment to write about someone, due to the likelihood that the written word will outlive the person, it seems silly to put it in print for posterity. Besides, it is really meant to be a blessing one "says" about someone, naturally, when quoting the living person or speaking nicely of the person.

And, of course, we should not limit it to rabbis, but should thus bless everyone we know with good, lengthened days. Including my two grandmothers, who should, please God, continue to live and be well.

How does one achieve long life? My grandfather, zichrono livracha (may his memory be a blessing) used to say "If you eat horseradish for a hundred years, you'll live a long life." Can't argue with that.

But many, fond of Torah trivia, will tell you there are two mitzvot in the Torah for which people merit long life – honoring one's parents (Shmot 20), and sending away the mother bird (Devarim 22). Is that all it takes?

Not really. Because the Torah, in fact, has many other examples of activities and manners of behavior that raise the possibility of extended and multiplied days on this earth, or in the Land of Israel proper.

Devarim 4:40 suggests that keeping the commandments is good for you and lengthens your days "Al ha'adamah" – on the land, just as does honoring your parents, as depicted in Devarim 5:15

Devarim 5:29 says that following God's path brings "life, is good for you, and causes lengthened days in the land of your inheritance." This verse leads into chapter 6:1-2, in which observance of the commandments leads to fear of God, which causes you and your descendants to have lengthened days.

In telling about Datan and Aviram, who were swallowed by the ground, the Israelites are reminded that their eyes have shown them the benefits of allegiance to God. "Keep the commandments, so you will be strengthened, and you will come and inherit the land – so your days may be lengthened on the earth that God promised to your fathers." (Devarim 11:6-9)

Perhaps most famously, the second paragraph of Shema, which appears in our parsha, concludes with the phrase "In order that yours and your children's days be multiplied on this earth" (11:21) suggesting that the wearing of tefillin and the placing of mezuzahs, as well as general allegiance to God's instructions ("Im shamoa tish'm'u"), will give one extended life.

Oddly enough, Devarim 25:14-15 says that carrying honest weights and measures and being honest in business is a good ingredient for lengthened days.

The ends of Devarim 30 and Devarim 32 also speak about how general commandment fulfillment leads to extended life while turning away from God leads to eternal destruction.

It could be that there is a focus on honoring parents and the sending of the mother bird because they are two specific positive commandments on opposite ends of extremes – honoring parents is most difficult, while sending away the mother bird is a relatively simple act.

Do any of these guarantee long life? Not really. They all guarantee lengthened days. And since lengthened days is relative in every person's life experience, we have no idea who has merited and who has not. A person who dies at 40 may have been meant to live twenty years, while a person who dies at 80 may have been meant to live 100 years. We don't really know how God takes account.

Our task is to do our best, to choose a life of Torah and to be as committed to God as possible. Upright observance, sanctifying God's name, and living as a model Jew from whom all walk away thinking "That is a Godly person," are the common denominator of all the ticket items mentioned above. You certainly don't need to be a rabbi to do all of them, and it is highly inappropriate to expect one's rabbi to "be Jewish for me."

May you, shlit'a, and you, shlit'a, (rabbi or not) merit to follow as many of these precepts as possible. In their merit and in the merit of the other fine deeds we will accomplish in our limited time on earth, may we enjoy the blessings of health and happiness as we live out our good, lengthened days.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Shema Bears Repeating

This can be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Va'etchanan

There is a story told of a Jew who bought a car from a very yeshivish mechanic. As he was about to drive away, the mechanic told him, “I tinkered with the car a little to make it more heimish. Instead of using a key, all you have to do is say ‘Baruch Hashem’ to make it start, and ‘Shema Yisrael’ when you want to turn it off.”

One summer day, he took a wrong turn off a country road and found himself driving straight for a cliff! He tried to hit the brakes, turn off the ignition, but nothing worked. In his fright, he forgot the formula the mechanic told him. On the brink of death and with no other choice, he screamed “Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad!” And of course, the car stopped at the very edge of the cliff.

Unable to believe he actually survived, he started pinching himself all over, as he exclaimed, “Baruch Hashem!”

Putting the tinkering mechanic aside, why do we put so much stock into the verse and paragraph of Shema? Most Jews, regardless of education, are familiar with this verse. Rabbi Yaakov Skili (Torat Hamincha) includes Shema in his list of early “nourishment of the soul” given to a child who is at the developing stages of cognitive ability.

The idea of Shma being the last thing we say in our lives was emphasized in the Talmud by Rabbi Akiva 2,000 years ago (Brachot 61b). In our own time, this was most clearly emphasized by the story of Ro’i Klein, an IDF officer who fell on a grenade during the second Lebanon War to save the men around him.

The first sentence of Shema is arguably the highlight of Chapter 6 in Devarim, whose theme is so emblematic of what Judaism is meant to be and what role Judaism should have in a person’s life.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch asks: If the best form of testimony is to see something, why does the Torah use the term “Hear Israel?” Shouldn’t it say “Look Israel and see that Hashem is our G-d, that Hashem is one?”

Our forefathers certainly saw G-d and experienced a unique knowledge and understanding of G-d through the miracles they witnessed at the end of Egyptian bondage and in the journey to Sinai. At the foot of the mountain, as they witnessed the ultimate vision of G-d permissible to humans, our forefathers heard G-d speak directly to them.

Rabbi Hirsch says “Only at one time [in history] did G-d enter the earthly present and reveal Himself there to His people: when laying the foundation for the creation of His people. Henceforth one generation shall tell another about G-d’s revelation…”

In the absence of further revelations, knowledge of G-d is preserved through hearing, as each generation hears of the revelation and G-d’s role in our lives from those who precede us.

The main message of the Shema rests in the word “v’shinantam,” which means “you will review.” Again and again and again. An “enlightened” person might call this brainwashing. But people of faith call it transmitting a heritage and a legacy.

The strength of Shema lies in that we are saying it two or three times every day. Love G-d completely, with everything you have. Remind yourself, over and over, that you must love G-d. That you have to say this again and again, and include your children in the conversation. Tell them why you love G-d. If you don’t know why you love G-d, seek and find why you love G-d (4:29).

The Shema foments this belief. We prolong the last word, as we accept the yolk of heaven upon us, and the opportunity to serve G-d through fulfilling His commandments.

Some will view it as a burden, some will view it as a difficult task, some will passively or actively reject. As the song says, however, “Ain’t no mountain high enough to keep me from getting to you.” When you love something or someone and you want to do everything for that entity, there are no questions and there is no stopping you from achieving your objective.

This is the Shema, this is telling it to your children, this is transmitting a belief system through constant repetition. This is the first step in making the lifestyle we’ve chosen a lifestyle our children will want to maintain and strengthen.

Nine Days Over

Now that the Nine Days are over, it seems out of place to take apart the remaining practices of the period. In the future, I hope to get back to:

  • Bris during the Nine Days (a subject that has much screen time in the Shulchan Arukh) - which is close to my heart for other reasons as well

  • Swimming during the Nine Days

  • Showering/Bathing during the Nine Days

  • Mourning practices - cutting nails, shaving, etc