For All My Life

A Rosh Hashana Message

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The Talmud in Kiddushin (40b) has a fascinating passage describing the merits process, which is quite applicable to this time of year.

"Our Rabbis taught: A person should always regard himself as though he were half guilty and half meritorious: if he performs one mitzvah, happy is he for weighting himself down in the scale of merit. If he commits one transgression, woe to him for weighting himself down in the scale of guilt. It is said, 'But one sinner destroys much good' (Kohelet 9). In other words, on account of a single sin which he commits much good is lost to him.

"R. Eleazar son of R. Shimon said: Since the world is judged by its majority, and an individual is also judged by his majority [of deeds, good or bad], if he performs one good deed, happy is he for turning the scale both for himself and for the whole world on the side of merit. But if he commits one transgression, woe to him for weighting himself and the whole world in the scale of guilt, for it is said: ‘but one sinner, etc.’ — on account of the single sin which this man commits he and the whole world lose much good.

"R. Shimon Bar Yohai said: Even if he is perfectly righteous all his life but rebels at the end, he destroys his former [good deeds], for it is said: The righteousness of the righteous shall not deliver him in the day of his transgression (Yechezkel 33). And even if one is completely wicked all his life but repents at the end, he is not reproached with his wickedness, for it is said, 'And as for the wickedness of the wicked, he shall not fall thereby in the day that he turns from his wickedness' (ibid).

"Yet let it be regarded as half transgressions and half meritorious deeds! — Said Resh Lakish: It means that he regretted his former deeds."

The first part of the passage describes the scale we all envision – where our positive deeds and fulfilled mitzvot sit on one weight counter, being weighed against our bad deeds, violations of sin and transgressed negative commandments. This balance act of merits versus demerits is easy for us to understand.

But the teaching of R Shimon Bar Yochai serves to indicate that in some cases, a person can literally be judged based on one's most recent deeds. One who has been good one's entire life can throw everything away in an instant, while one who has been bad can be redeemed in an instant.

Are we reducing Rosh Hashana to a children's game, where we behave nicely right before Rosh Hashana, so Santa Claus will give us the present we want?

Hardly. This is where Resh Lakish comes in. We can't just be judged for our most recent deeds. We must regret our misdeeds of the past as well, and make a commitment not to return to our ways of old.

Herein lies the difference for all of us. It is very easy to say on any given day, "I will be a good person today. I am being judged today. I am being watched today. I will perform well today." It is much more difficult to make a conscience choice to make a commitment today that will last for the rest of my life.

But Resh Lakish is reminding us that we can sincerely regret our past misdeeds, at any time, any day.

If we bring a fair dose of sincerity, and honest feelings of recommitment and renewal to striving to be better people in this coming year, it is our hope we will merit all the blessings that come upon those who truly earn for themselves a sweet new year.

Shana Tova to all.

Going When It's Time

Parshat Nitzavim Vayelekh

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Moshe's good bye speech that is the book of Devarim contains a number of references to the fact that he will not accompany the people into the Promised Land. He talks about how he requested, knelt, pleaded before God to be given a chance to enter the land – if only for a short time – and how each request was summarily rejected.

In the beginning of Devarim, Moshe pins the reason on the event of the spies (1:37). Sometimes, the reasoning becomes more of God's design than a mundane punishment. The Or HaChaim (1:37) quotes a gemara (Sotah 9a) and the Midrash Tehillim (79) to explain how Moshe's non-entry into the land was part of a plan that would ultimately save the Jewish people. Had Moshe entered the land, he would have built the Temple, which God would never allow to be destroyed.

God's ensuing wrath over the people turning from Him was taken out on wood and stones (the destruction of the Temple), rather than against the Israelite nation.

In his work Siftei Tzadikim, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rimanov says that Moshe, the ultimate shepherd of Israel, fulfilled his destiny particularly in his death, through granting Israel an everlasting chance at eternal survival.

To bring the matter to an even more direct level, the Mareh Yechezkel (Rabbi Yechezkel Panet) gives two additional explanations for why Moshe needed to remain outside of the land: for the merit of those who perished in the wilderness, and to serve as a defense against the prosecution of Baal Peor, which would not be able to stand up against Moshe's grave, is in the mountains of Moav, overlooking the place where the negative incident of Bamidbar 25 took place.

In our parsha, Moshe says "Today I am 120 years old and I can no longer come and go. God has [also] told me that I would not cross the Jordan." (31:2)

What does Moshe mean when he says "I can no longer come and go?" Is Moshe referring to his physical prowess? Is Moshe referring to the reality that the end of his life has arrived? Is Moshe saying that he can no longer argue the point with God because it is hopeless for him to enter the land?

Ibn Ezra suggests Moshe could no longer lead the people in battle. Rashi rejects the idea that Moshe's physical strength was ebbing, as he offers Moshe's inability (permission-wise) to enter the land, and that Moshe was no longer capable of deep Torah thoughts. (Ramban prefers this latter interpretation.) Different Tosafists point to Moshe's old age as his reason for not being able to continue – following the logical flow of the verse. The Seforno has echoes of Moshe's destiny when he says "Even if I could physically make the trip (go and come), since God said I can not go, it will be better for you if I do not enter, because this will allow you to pass over the Jordan River, and to enter the promised Land."

There are no set rules for when the body begins to break down. Some people might begin experiencing debilitating ailments or conditions at an early age, some at a later stage, and some go through life as healthy as can be past becoming centenarians.

The big challenge for many of us is how to deal with the cards we're dealt. For Moshe, the Torah says he did not lose his physical strength. But there is room to look at Moshe not being able to lead a battle or to not maintain his highest intellectual capacity – especially after he anointed Yehoshua his successor and gave Yehoshua some of his own "glory."

Moshe grew to accept his reality and to understand that some things, which are clearly part of God's master plan, are what they are. No amount of Moshe's pleading could change his destiny once the decree was given.

Does this mean Moshe did not possess Free Will, and that perhaps his destiny was predetermined? Of course not. Moshe demonstrated his free will many times in the Torah, and his destiny was heavily influenced by his free will choices.

The reality presented by the verse also suggests, however, that Moshe was able to recognize when his time was up, so he could walk off into the sunset while still as close to the top of his game as he could possible be.

May we all be blessed to live to Moshe's ripe old age, and merit to appreciate our final days for what they will be: the prelude to our reunion with the divine.

It'll Drive You Crazy

Parshat Ki Tavo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Some of the curses in the tokhacha are meant to hit so close to home. Verses 28:29-33 describe how some things we might take for granted could easily be unequivocally stripped from us. The most poetically chilling is verse 30 in which the betrothed woman, the new house and the new vineyard will all be enjoyed by someone else. These recall the three individuals (other than the coward) who are recalled from the battlefield before going out to fight "lest another man enjoy" the beginning fruits of these new projects before the one meant to benefit has a chance to see them through their fruition.

 As a result of these terrible losses, the Torah says "You will go insane from what you will have to witness"

Some of the commentaries express tremendous creativity in their attempt to explain what the insanity will be or where it will come from.

Ibn Ezra says the "insanity" will come from the Egyptian boils coming upon the people in verse 27. The Sha"kh says one will be like a crazy-man on account of all the happy occasions one will have shared with others. Whether he is being serious or speaking tongue-in-cheek is open to anyone's interpretation. [The word "smachot" is sometimes used as a euphemisim for 'sad events.']

The Netziv is a little more practical in his explanation as he says "You'll be dumbstruck over how much damage so few instigators can cause you. The overwhelming feeling will cause you to lose your reason."

In essence, these commentaries look at the afflictions which precede this statement of insanity and attach a direct connection – cause and effect.

One can also look at this statement with a contemporary eye and, when looked at by itself, out of the context of the verses surrounding it, a significantly modern lesson can be taken away.

The translation of the verse I provided before is from Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan's "Living Torah." However, it can also be translated, "You will go crazy on account of the things you see."

Israeli motivational speaker Rabbi Avner Kavas suggested that we live in a world in which the sights we see can literally drive a person crazy.

It doesn't take much imagination to understand exactly what he's talking about. Stand at a checkout counter and you're overwhelmed with magazine covers containing images and tabloid headlines you'd rather not be exposed to.

Think about our own feelings of the "Arab Spring" that is rising now, with the discussion over the state that might be declared by the United Nations.

Consider the climbing rate of divorce in our communities.

Wonder about the "singles scene," and if the challenge so many face in finding a mate will be overcome in the near future.

Take note of the drug abuse, sexual abuse, and physical abuse which sometimes make it to the newspapers. Particularly physical abuse between spouses, once unheard of in the Jewish community, is now flickering on a radar screen.

The endless addiction that comes from using electronics, the internet, etc. Even if all of these uses are good or pareve, the inability to communicate normally with another person is becoming a lost art, and the amount of time spent online versus in other intellectual and spiritual pursuits can drive the objective observer mad.

Our eyes are our portal to the world, and it is through them that we see the things that can literally drive us crazy. There is no room to preach filtering, because only the true ascetic can filter out the images and the madness that challenge us on a daily basis in our world and contemporary society.

May we not only pray that the world change in a manner that will make us see a different light, but may we also merit to see a world in which even this kind of fulfillment of the tokhacha turns into a figment of only our wildest imagination.

The Community of God

Ki Tetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Chapter 23, verses 2-4 list a number of male types who may not enter "k'hal Hashem," the community of God. On a simple level, the verses seem strange. The first two individuals – men who have become sterile on account of external, or unnatural incidents – are likely Jewish men. As is the "mamzer," the product of two Jewish people who participated in a Torah-forbidden relationship. Don't they enter the community of God the moment they are born?

The Ammonite and Moabite males who may not enter the community of God are understandably in a different category, it would seem. But when the Torah says "Also the tenth generation may not enter the community of God" – which generation is the "tenth"? How is that calculated? May they become Jews, but only be accepted by the community after ten generations? How would they have any generations if they are not accepted?

While not proposing this exact definition, many of the commentaries define the "non-entry into the community of God" as a prohibition against their marrying Jewish women. Or a prohibition for Jewish women against marrying them.

What kind of discrimination is this? What about love? What about free choice? What about real human bonding? What do you say if people connect in their souls? Why should the Torah care who a woman marries, or if these men have found women who will help them not be alone?

Moabite converts may have once had to marry within their conversion community (if they were permitted to convert), but the fact is that the Ammonite and Moabite prohibition no longer applies in our world, because Sanncherib mixed around cultures, causing these nations to disappear (Talmud Brachot 28a).

As I do not intend to discuss the "mamzer" here, we will now move on the males who have become infertile due to an unnatural act. The comments of the ancient rabbis you are about to read might not smack of political correctness, and certainly do not take modern psychology knowledge into consideration. Nonetheless, I think they are very instructive as to how we can define some of the purposes of marriage.

**IOW - Disclaimer: This discussion relates to men whose genitalia have been physically mutilated. It does not relate to individuals who struggle with infertility for other reasons.**

Some of the arguments proposed by commentaries as to why they may not enter the community of God include: if they no longer have a possibility of fathering children, why should they marry women in the first place? (Chizkuni); the union of a man and wife is a foundation of inspiration and acceptance, which unnatural unfortunate events have rendered impossible on account of the inability to produce children for that purpose – which makes a deficiency in the upper spheres (Rabbi Menachem Ricanati, the Italian kabbalist of the 13^th century) [English translation: if they will not be able to have children to inspire to follow God's ways, a marriage of this sort seems less than ideal]

Along similar lines, Rabbenu Bachaye explains "the community of God" as referring to "marrying an Israelite woman," because, in his understanding, the main reason for marriage is to have children and to raise the next generation. When a man is physically incapable (scientifically is a different discussion), his marriage fails to serve its ultimate purpose.

However, Rabbenu Bachaye adds, since the Torah does not forbid "his getting married" (only entering the community of God), he may marry other women who are part of the Jewish community, such as a convert (there are different levels of conversion) or a freed Canaanite maid. Whatever relations the man may be able to have (or any relations in any union) that do not produce children are permitted in the context of marriage.

The Alshich is most practical, saying if a woman marries a man who is incapable of giving her a child, she might resort to forbidden means to get the child for which she yearns.

In our modern technological world, women who yearn for that child have options that need not include a forbidden relationship. Which can resolve the Alshich's concern.

           

Rabbenu Bachaye's feelings regarding marriage are alleviated by his openness to the reality that people who are scientifically incapable of producing children also marry, as do people who are past child producing years. We certainly understand that people marry for companionship and all kinds of reasons not necessarily related to having a family. Perhaps even suggesting that two people get married in order that they may produce children (when nothing else 'clicks') could be viewed as a creepy approach to matchmaking.

            

But the ultimate lesson is that a Jewish marriage, and a proper Jewish union, is called "Entering the community of God."

            

I wish for and bless all those currently looking for mates to look beyond yourself and your needs to find that the person who will help you enter the community of God need merely be a person who shares a common goal and a common vision for what you want out of life. The community of God is one that speaks of an existence of kedushah, of holiness, which is achieved through the kindnesses we do for our spouses, and the choices we utilize to make their lives more fulfilling.

            

May all Jewish people merit to live a life in the community of God, with marriages that work to inject holiness at every turn. And if children are part of the equation, may they grow to follow in the footsteps of the community of God in which they are raised.

The Middle Road

Parshat Shoftim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In describing the formula for how we turn to our teachers for guidance and for psak (rabbinic decisions in Jewish law), the Torah enjoins us to follow the rulings that are handed to us. As many a rabbi will tell you in conversation, "Are we just having a discussion? Or are you asking me what to do? Because if you are asking a 'shaylah,' you have to follow what I tell you. Whereas if we are just having a conversation, you will go home and decide for yourself what is the best avenue to pursue in this matter."

The Torah says "Based on the Torah which they show you and the ruling they will tell you to follow, do not veer from what they tell you right or left." (Devarim 17:11)

This enigmatic passage is the base for some discussion in the Midrash, and much more amongst commentators.

Rashi, based on Shir HaShirim Raba and the Pesikta, explains quite literally that you must listen when they tell you right is left and left is right, and certainly when they tell you right is right and left is left. Ramban elaborates, saying that you might think they are totally wrong, but if they have the halakhic insight you do not possess, they must be listened to [presumably in matters of halakha – rather than for every question under the sun].

The Riva (Yitzchak ben Avraham, a Tosafist) asks an obvious question. What if they are totally out to lunch? What if they are saying that something that is forbidden is permitted, that something which is tameh is really tahor? He answers his own question, saying that in such a case it would be wrong to listen to them. The examples he brings are more along the lines of when there are two legitimate opinions and the scholar sides with an approach which might be objectionable, but is valid. Obviously declaring a horse to be a tahor animal would not fit into such a rubric (my example). But saying that we should not blow shofar on Rosh Hashanah that falls on shabbos is a decree which is valid (Riva's example).

I would like to offer a different approach, equally literal, yet considerably more homiletical, based on the well-known suggestion of Rambam (Maimonides) at the beginning of Hilkhot De'ot – the laws of Worldliness.

When the verse says "Do not veer from what they tell you right or left," perhaps they mean "do not veer too much, neither to the right nor to the left." In other words: don't be an extremist, be a moderate. Take a stand, but don't go crazy.

The Rambam famously wrote, "The proper path is the middle road from every choice a person has in front of him. It is equidistant from the two extremes, and is not 'almost' one or the other. The early scholars commanded us to follow this road of moderation in order to live a more fulfilling existence. For example, don't be easy to anger, but also don't be a stiff with no emotions. Find a middle road. Save anger for a really big deal, so it will [hopefully] not come up again. Otherwise be easygoing…"

The key is moderation, and avoidance of extremism.

In our times, this is very easily understood, because the image the Torah uses to describe the directions in which a person can turn (right or left) are the actual terms used to describe the place on the religious or philosophical (and even political) scale on which a person's approach to life might lie.

The Torah's instruction, therefore, is not to lean too far to the right, or too far to the left, but to find a more centrist viewpoint that is far more moderate and far less extreme.

This is a highly significant message for all of us to take home. Too often, people rush to a rabbi for guidance on every matter under the sun. Too often, people on one extreme try to "outfrum" themselves (separate yichud rooms at a wedding comes to mind). At the same time, people on the other extreme tend to push the envelope as far as they can, to see how far they can take certain practices before being called on them and being subsequently persuaded that "this far is OK, but this far is crossing the line."

We should not be looking to churn out clones and carbon copies. Every person is created in the image of God, is a unique individual, and should therefore make a unique mark in the world.

But the underlying philosophy that should work for everyone, is that of Maimonides. While we will not agree on everything, we work hard to change our approach to life and Judaism. There need not be a negative attitude towards others, trying to either get others' goat or make their lives difficult. Nor should we push the envelope to such a degree that will spark namecalling, lashon hara, animosity, or worst of all, hatred.

Taking the road less traveled may make all the difference to Robert Frost. But taking the middle road – not too much to the right and not too much to the left – is what makes all the difference in creating a wholesome Jewish experience.