Parshat Re'eh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
As September looms and the thought of what the UN could vote upon in reference to Israel comes scarily closer, many feel the desperation of the future of the State of Israel. Not only that, but recent terror attacks once again remind us that the uncertainty that continues to dominate elements of Israel's future may sometimes foment within us feelings of despair over what is yet to come.
The Torah tells us, "You are children of the Lord, your God. You shall neither cut yourselves nor make any baldness between your eyes for the dead." (Devarim 14:1) The specific prohibition is against certain acts of body desecration practiced by pagans in mourning, but it also implies that there is a deeper connection to God that presupposes any need for such extreme measures.
Rabbi Shimshon Nadel, a friend of mine, pointed me in the direction of the comment of the Seforno on this pasuk. He says, "You are children of God. It is not proper to exhibit complete and utter concern and pain over the deceased when there are still close relatives, even more honored, among the living. Therefore 'You are children of God' [reminds us] that 'Your father [in heaven] lives forever.' Don’t make a baldness because you are a holy nation… don't suffer too much for the deceased who died 'You are a holy nation' destined for the world to come, where 'bad times' are better than all of our lives on this earth."
The Seforno argues that we have two things going for us that transcend all kinds of trials and tribulations on earth. Our Father in Heaven is always there, and we are all destined for the glory of the World to Come.
It's an amazing thing to think about. In the scheme of the world, even those of us who live to be centenarians only exist for a relative blip in human history. Every person who lived before us, from every regular Joe to even the worst dictators in history, might have thought of their time and their existence as the time to be living, when the decisions they made were the most important the world had ever seen.
There is no question that all of history played a part in shaping and framing the world we have today. But 100 years from now, when very few of us will still be around, how important will our decisions, actions, and choices of today still be? Will we still have family members who remember us, who will even visit our graves?
Edmund Burke said, "Those who do not learn from history are destined to repeat it." I believe there is much truth to this statement.
The Jewish approach has always taken this to a higher level. Might I suggest that Judaism has stood not only for learning from history, but living within our history. We not only crave and yearn for great leaders of the past generation (how many still look to Rabbis Aharon Kotler, Moshe Feinstein, Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, Joseph B. Soloveitchik, the Chazon Ish, etc?), but we also look to the Vilna Gaon, Maimonides, Rashi, the Geonim, the Tanaim and Amoraim, King David, Moshe, our forefathers. We not only learn from them, but we use their wisdom to guide how we live today.
What keeps us going most of all is our living Father in heaven. There are difficult times, and tragedy strikes all too often. Sometimes it comes in the form of terrorism, sometimes it comes in the form of a disease, sometimes it comes in the form of a terrible accident. None are immune from it. Some seem to get more of a free pass, and some seem to suffer more than others.
But our national experience will one day lead to that which the Seforno reminds us is our ultimate destiny: the blissful experience of the world to come.
It is often hard to remember, particularly because we are building legacies and trying to make the world cleaner and better for our future generations. We forget that our little blip in the existence of the world is our chance to land ourselves a better spot in the world to come.
I am not suggesting not to mourn when we experience a loss. Particularly when the loss seems or is unnatural, we are very sad because we will miss the person very much. And it never seems fair that that's the "only" chance the person will get. And thinking "he or she is in a better place" is really only comforting when the deceased was suffering immeasurably in this world – not when life was snuffed out in an instant.
But if we can shift our focus and imagine that a day will come when we will join our friends and loved ones in experiencing heavenly bliss, it will give our lives greater meaning. We will not need to resort to pagan practices that will only make our existence in this world suffer, because we will be renewed with a sense of purpose to live our lives in such a way that we will be able to join our loved ones when our Father in Heaven allows us to enter the world to come.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Remember, and Don't Forget
Parshat Eikev
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Our parsha features another installment of Moshe's Wilderness History 101 crash course for the second generation entitled, "Where your parents messed up at the Golden Calf." It includes Moshe's account of how he went up the mountain for three 40-day spans, and how God wanted to destroy the people but didn't on account of Moshe's prayer.
In the midst of all this, we are told one of the "Shesh Zekhirot," the six remembrances that appear at the end of Shacharit in many siddurim.
"Remember and never forget how you provoked God your Lord inthe desert. From the day you left Egypt until you came here, you have been rebelling against God." (Devarim 9:7)
The other remembrances are understandably important daily reminders.
Remembering the Exodus (1) reminds us of God's presence and His covenant to watch over the descendants of Avraham. Remembering Shabbos (2) is ostensibly one of the most distinguishing qualities of the Jewish people. God's presence at Mt. Sinai (3) is the source for our devotion and dedication to the Torah. What happened to Miriam (4) is an ever constant reminder that even the greatest amongst us are at the perils of lashon hara, and that it is a draw that we ought to fight from the deepest depths of our souls. The reminder to destroy Amalek (5) is a call to vigilance, for the Jewish people to never lose sight of the fact that there are enemies looking to harm them.
But a reminder about the Golden Calf (6) seems counterintuitive and counterproductive. Why should we be reminded of a major sin? Why be reminded of a time when our ancestors angered God? While it may be true that the generation that left Egypt rebelled against God over and over, does that mean their children were similarly rebelling? Furthermore, is this remembrance something that was meant to be applicable for all time, or was Moshe directing this memory-command at the people he addressed for only their time, and only their generation?
The obvious answer is that if we are reminded of how bad we were, the memory of the repercussions of such a sin might trigger an automatic forcefield against the inclination to sin.
The Torah Temimah (Baruch HaLevi Epstein) struggled over how to explain this "remembrance."
Firstly, the injunction to "Remember" is more than just feeling it in your heart. It is about repeating things over and over, saying things with your mouth. He mentions Ramban's struggle over whether to count this as a mitzvah – was it a one-time instruction or was it for all future generations?
"I don't know what are the qualities of this mitzvah…" Rabbi Epstein pondered. "What to remember, when to remember, because many of the parshas in the Torah talk about when Israel angered God. For example: desiring to return to Egypt, the collecting of the manna on Shabbos, the Golden Calf, the complainers, the spies, the Korach rebellion, and the Baal Pe'or debacle, etc."
He goes on to compare this instruction to the instructions for wiping out Amalek, which includes a similar double language of "Remember, and do not forget." Not to forget is an instruction to be reminded once a year. But to 'remember,' that is something that must take place on a regular basis. It requires an active regular effort.
It might not be a mitzvah – Maimonides, for example, did not codify it – but there is something about the instruction that should strike a resounding chord in our souls. Which would suggest that it was not only meant for the wandering Israelites, but for us as well.
Rabbi JJ Schacter shared a very interesting insight inhis Tisha B'Av webcast, on an unrelated subject, that I believe has relevance here. He quoted Rav Kasher who said that sometimes when you see a verse quoted, it is meant to remind us of the context in which the verse appears. In our case, the next few verses describe how at the moment we generally, and Moshe most specifically, were closest to God, we somehow managed to turn in the other direction – a complete 180 degree turn.
In essence, this reminder is doubled (Remember and don't forget) because the draw of sin is so powerful, so enticing, so exciting, we need to put up safeguards at every turn.
Ramban wrote a very instructive letter to his son, encouraging him to read it once a week in order to stay on the proper path and veer away from sin. (It can be found in some prayer books near the six remembrances.)
Maybe we can find a mussar talk that we can read or some inspiring recording that we can listen to as a podcast or on a cd in the car. If we can take the positive action step of giving ourselves such constant reminders, with God's help we will succeed in warding off the yetzer hara as we continue to grow spiritually in our continued quest to get closer to God.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Our parsha features another installment of Moshe's Wilderness History 101 crash course for the second generation entitled, "Where your parents messed up at the Golden Calf." It includes Moshe's account of how he went up the mountain for three 40-day spans, and how God wanted to destroy the people but didn't on account of Moshe's prayer.
In the midst of all this, we are told one of the "Shesh Zekhirot," the six remembrances that appear at the end of Shacharit in many siddurim.
"Remember and never forget how you provoked God your Lord inthe desert. From the day you left Egypt until you came here, you have been rebelling against God." (Devarim 9:7)
The other remembrances are understandably important daily reminders.
Remembering the Exodus (1) reminds us of God's presence and His covenant to watch over the descendants of Avraham. Remembering Shabbos (2) is ostensibly one of the most distinguishing qualities of the Jewish people. God's presence at Mt. Sinai (3) is the source for our devotion and dedication to the Torah. What happened to Miriam (4) is an ever constant reminder that even the greatest amongst us are at the perils of lashon hara, and that it is a draw that we ought to fight from the deepest depths of our souls. The reminder to destroy Amalek (5) is a call to vigilance, for the Jewish people to never lose sight of the fact that there are enemies looking to harm them.
But a reminder about the Golden Calf (6) seems counterintuitive and counterproductive. Why should we be reminded of a major sin? Why be reminded of a time when our ancestors angered God? While it may be true that the generation that left Egypt rebelled against God over and over, does that mean their children were similarly rebelling? Furthermore, is this remembrance something that was meant to be applicable for all time, or was Moshe directing this memory-command at the people he addressed for only their time, and only their generation?
The obvious answer is that if we are reminded of how bad we were, the memory of the repercussions of such a sin might trigger an automatic forcefield against the inclination to sin.
The Torah Temimah (Baruch HaLevi Epstein) struggled over how to explain this "remembrance."
Firstly, the injunction to "Remember" is more than just feeling it in your heart. It is about repeating things over and over, saying things with your mouth. He mentions Ramban's struggle over whether to count this as a mitzvah – was it a one-time instruction or was it for all future generations?
"I don't know what are the qualities of this mitzvah…" Rabbi Epstein pondered. "What to remember, when to remember, because many of the parshas in the Torah talk about when Israel angered God. For example: desiring to return to Egypt, the collecting of the manna on Shabbos, the Golden Calf, the complainers, the spies, the Korach rebellion, and the Baal Pe'or debacle, etc."
He goes on to compare this instruction to the instructions for wiping out Amalek, which includes a similar double language of "Remember, and do not forget." Not to forget is an instruction to be reminded once a year. But to 'remember,' that is something that must take place on a regular basis. It requires an active regular effort.
It might not be a mitzvah – Maimonides, for example, did not codify it – but there is something about the instruction that should strike a resounding chord in our souls. Which would suggest that it was not only meant for the wandering Israelites, but for us as well.
Rabbi JJ Schacter shared a very interesting insight inhis Tisha B'Av webcast, on an unrelated subject, that I believe has relevance here. He quoted Rav Kasher who said that sometimes when you see a verse quoted, it is meant to remind us of the context in which the verse appears. In our case, the next few verses describe how at the moment we generally, and Moshe most specifically, were closest to God, we somehow managed to turn in the other direction – a complete 180 degree turn.
In essence, this reminder is doubled (Remember and don't forget) because the draw of sin is so powerful, so enticing, so exciting, we need to put up safeguards at every turn.
Ramban wrote a very instructive letter to his son, encouraging him to read it once a week in order to stay on the proper path and veer away from sin. (It can be found in some prayer books near the six remembrances.)
Maybe we can find a mussar talk that we can read or some inspiring recording that we can listen to as a podcast or on a cd in the car. If we can take the positive action step of giving ourselves such constant reminders, with God's help we will succeed in warding off the yetzer hara as we continue to grow spiritually in our continued quest to get closer to God.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Merits of Performance
Parshat Va'etchanan
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Tisha B'Av is a date on the calendar most noted by observant Jews. It is not so much that it is otherwise ignored, but differently affiliated Jews generally confine their annual Jewish fast days to Yom Kippur. The concept of sadness or a connection to the darker side of our People's history is by no means exclusive to any group. History's enemies of the Jewish people (some of whom continue to make history now) never differentiated between how people practiced their Judaism, as much as they obsessed over the fact that Jews identified as Jews.
The question becomes, for how much longer will those who know not of Tisha B'Av identify as Jews?
The last verse in Devarim chapter 6 states: "It will be a merit for us if we are careful to perform this entire commandment before the Lord our God, as He commanded us."
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch spells out his understanding of this verse in simple language. "We can discharge the tasks of our life's mission only if we keep the whole Torah as "mitzvah"; only if we observe all the laws, without differentiation, as God's commandment, our Divinely-ordained assignment to our life's station; only if we do every mitzvah carefully, without diminishing from it or changing it, all in accordance with the content and manner prescribed by God We do not have the right to abrogate or reform any of it."
In Hirsch's view, there is no question that an observance of Judaism that follows the letter of the Law as described in Devarim and elsewhere in the Torah, is meritorious for the Jewish people. Obedience to Divine dictates, as it were, is a lifestyle that is timeless, and is not meant to ever be viewed as being outdated.
When Rabbi JH Hertz's assumed the post of Chief Rabbi of England
His words are as relevant today as they were then.
"Ours will be no Platonic admiration of the Torah; ours no "fulfilling" of the Torah by abolishing it. For well we know that, when the framework of the ancient Law falls away, when the immemorial rites, customs, and ceremonies go, we are left without God in our lives. We may – for a time – remain an ethical, but we are no longer a religious people. And then our days are numbered; for in our Religion alone lies the secret of our deathlessness. When Malachi's contemporaries asked for proof of the love of God, he bade them contrast the history of Israel Israel Moab Moab Israel
Tisha B'Av is therefore a microcosm of a much larger concern facing our generation. Through our history, the Jewish people were either ridiculed for not conforming to the standards of the majority population, or were singled out as scapegoats and victims for the problems and aggression of their anti-Semitic tormentors, who detested the Jewish moral righteousness and high ethical standards to which the Torah demanded the Jew to abide by.
How long will Judaism without Torah remain Judaism? Which generation of Israeli politicians will drop their 'standards' because it doesn't get them anywhere with the West and with the domestic problems that are aggravated by local enemies?
How many more generations of un-Jewishly-educated Jews will it take for Judaism to drop from their ranks and files because it will be completely out of touch, and too ancient?
The time is right for all Jews to pursue an authentic Jewish education, and to bring a dose of traditional Judaism back into the home and one's lifestyle choices.
Ethics are beautiful, but they only work when the source of the ethics are understood as not only instructive to our lives, but as a small ingredient of a larger recipe that creates a fulfilling life. The other ingredients are not self-motivated or self-understood. They come from thousands of years of a tried and true tradition that works when it is adhered to, and has proven disastrous time and time again when ignored.
As the verse says, "It will be a merit for us if we are careful to perform this entire commandment." I hope we agree that we can use all the merits we can get.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Contrition Crying
Parshat Devarim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The first Tisha B'Av memory is the incident of the spies, which set in stone the concept of a"b'khiya l'dorot" – a date on which all future generations will have reason to cry. (Taanit 29a)
In the immediate aftermath of the spies debacle, a group of people realized the folly of their complaints and tried to save face through mounting an offensive which was thrown back by Emorites. When our parsha recalls that incident (Devarim 1:45), it is Moshe who recounts it to the people saying, "You returned [from the defeat at the hands of the Emorites] and wept before God; and He did not listen your voice, and did not give an ear to you."
In his commentary, Rabbi J.H. Hertz provides the most profound and poignant message. God did not listen "because their weeping was not the outcome of sorrow over sin; but of sorrow over the consequences of sin. This feeling the old theologians named 'attrition'; in contrast with the sincere penitence – the sorrow over sin itself – which they called contrition. There is all the difference in the world between a man who is contrite and one who is merely 'attrite.'"
Have you ever seen a defendant in court (even on TV) who is obviously guilty? Sometimes the defense lawyer can get the person off on a technicality. Some truly feel badly, but can justify their actions with 'self-defense' (which is generally a valid argument when true). Others have no remorse, but know the prosecution has no real case.
Through the trial and ordeal, they remain stone-faced, showing no emotion. Now the verdict comes in. "Innocent" – defendant is all smiles. "Guilty" – only now, when the realization that "I am going to pay dearly for my actions" sets in, does a person break down and cry. The latter case is 'attrition' – when the "consequences" of my actions cause my feelings of regret and remorse, whilst my actions don't move my stone-cold heart.
"Contrition"is the realization I come to on my own, irrespective of others, that the sin is a bad one, and that there is much work to be done to achieve any semblance of atonement.
We live in a time where "attrition" generally carries the day. I am always right. You are always wrong. There is nothing you can say to get me to change. I am the greatest gift to mankind, and if something comes along and proves I am wrong, that fact or person is lying.
It is only when someone kicks me in the pants real hard that I realize that I have fallen into the mud and that there's a lot of cleaning up that needs to take place before I can get back on my feet. And I only feel this way because I am dirty right now, and I need to look presentable right away.
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik said (11/12/73), "Prayer is an art. We have totally forgotten this art. Today it is no more than a mechanical performance. True prayer is more than this. It is an attitude, a state of mind, creating a mood and temperament for the worshiper. It is an exciting experience and an adventure." (Rakeffet, "The Rav, Volume I", KTAV Publishers, p. 146)
In my own life, I have seen very few people who experience true prayer the way Rabbi Soloveitchik described it. I've come to a point that I no longer look at those who cry on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur and Tisha B'Av and think "What's wrong with that guy?" Now I say, "What's wrong with me? How come I can't feel it? How come I can't connect to what I'm doing in such a manner? How come I can't speak to God with heartfelt sincerity? How come I am incapable of letting go, letting everything all out on the table, to ask God to help me, to forgive me, to guide me to the truth and His light?"
Truth be told, this is a lifelong struggle. Some spend a lifetime climbing to a goal, some never quite make it, and some give up along the way.
The question becomes one of attitude and focus. Will we be those who cry from attrition – no apologies, just distaste from the consequences of our actions? Or will we be the ones who are truly penitent, who can admit our mistakes and learn from them after we realize we've committed them? This is a great act of contrition.
As the years continue to bring us further and further from the destroyed Temples, we begin by taking the time to figure out why we are still mourning on Tisha B'Av. If we can pray sincerely, and cry on account of the moving Kinot, our contrition-inspired prayers will help us move mountains in our lifelong quest of getting closer to God.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The first Tisha B'Av memory is the incident of the spies, which set in stone the concept of a"b'khiya l'dorot" – a date on which all future generations will have reason to cry. (Taanit 29a)
In the immediate aftermath of the spies debacle, a group of people realized the folly of their complaints and tried to save face through mounting an offensive which was thrown back by Emorites. When our parsha recalls that incident (Devarim 1:45), it is Moshe who recounts it to the people saying, "You returned [from the defeat at the hands of the Emorites] and wept before God; and He did not listen your voice, and did not give an ear to you."
In his commentary, Rabbi J.H. Hertz provides the most profound and poignant message. God did not listen "because their weeping was not the outcome of sorrow over sin; but of sorrow over the consequences of sin. This feeling the old theologians named 'attrition'; in contrast with the sincere penitence – the sorrow over sin itself – which they called contrition. There is all the difference in the world between a man who is contrite and one who is merely 'attrite.'"
Have you ever seen a defendant in court (even on TV) who is obviously guilty? Sometimes the defense lawyer can get the person off on a technicality. Some truly feel badly, but can justify their actions with 'self-defense' (which is generally a valid argument when true). Others have no remorse, but know the prosecution has no real case.
Through the trial and ordeal, they remain stone-faced, showing no emotion. Now the verdict comes in. "Innocent" – defendant is all smiles. "Guilty" – only now, when the realization that "I am going to pay dearly for my actions" sets in, does a person break down and cry. The latter case is 'attrition' – when the "consequences" of my actions cause my feelings of regret and remorse, whilst my actions don't move my stone-cold heart.
"Contrition"is the realization I come to on my own, irrespective of others, that the sin is a bad one, and that there is much work to be done to achieve any semblance of atonement.
We live in a time where "attrition" generally carries the day. I am always right. You are always wrong. There is nothing you can say to get me to change. I am the greatest gift to mankind, and if something comes along and proves I am wrong, that fact or person is lying.
It is only when someone kicks me in the pants real hard that I realize that I have fallen into the mud and that there's a lot of cleaning up that needs to take place before I can get back on my feet. And I only feel this way because I am dirty right now, and I need to look presentable right away.
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik said (11/12/73), "Prayer is an art. We have totally forgotten this art. Today it is no more than a mechanical performance. True prayer is more than this. It is an attitude, a state of mind, creating a mood and temperament for the worshiper. It is an exciting experience and an adventure." (Rakeffet, "The Rav, Volume I", KTAV Publishers, p. 146)
In my own life, I have seen very few people who experience true prayer the way Rabbi Soloveitchik described it. I've come to a point that I no longer look at those who cry on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur and Tisha B'Av and think "What's wrong with that guy?" Now I say, "What's wrong with me? How come I can't feel it? How come I can't connect to what I'm doing in such a manner? How come I can't speak to God with heartfelt sincerity? How come I am incapable of letting go, letting everything all out on the table, to ask God to help me, to forgive me, to guide me to the truth and His light?"
Truth be told, this is a lifelong struggle. Some spend a lifetime climbing to a goal, some never quite make it, and some give up along the way.
The question becomes one of attitude and focus. Will we be those who cry from attrition – no apologies, just distaste from the consequences of our actions? Or will we be the ones who are truly penitent, who can admit our mistakes and learn from them after we realize we've committed them? This is a great act of contrition.
As the years continue to bring us further and further from the destroyed Temples, we begin by taking the time to figure out why we are still mourning on Tisha B'Av. If we can pray sincerely, and cry on account of the moving Kinot, our contrition-inspired prayers will help us move mountains in our lifelong quest of getting closer to God.
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