How to Judge

Parshat Devarim


by Rabbi Avi Billet


The book of Devarim begins (1:12-18) with Moshe reminding the people of how when the Law was first given he was unable to personally deal with every dispute. At the time, he appointed a tier system of judges over specific population sizes to work with the people. Moshe would serve, in a sense, as the equivalent of the Supreme Court (sans the politics), as the highest arbiter of the law, whose decisions are final.

          
It is worth noting that the way Moshe describes what he did at the time is mostly a reflection of the steps he took following the advice given to him by his father-in-law Yitro in Shmot 18. The Or HaChaim uses that story to indicate the Torah's approach to learning from anyone who has wisdom to share – Yitro being a model non-Jew who was able to teach Moshe organizational skills.

          
In his recounting of those early days of appointing judges, Moshe recalls the instructions that were given to the initial appointees: "Listen to every dispute among your brethren, and judge honestly between each man and his brother [or] his 'ger.'" (1:16) He continues to describe how favoritism is to be avoided, whether based on wealth, looks, or some other criteria. Just judge by the book, based on the evidence presented.

          
In order to understand what this form of judging means, we need to understand what the term "ger" means in this context. While "ger" sometimes means "convert" or "proselyte," the fact is that one who has converted to Judaism is really supposed to be referred to as a convert for one second – at the moment of conversion. Afterwards, the person is meant to be included in the term "his brother" – because one who has joined the Jewish people is a full Jew (with a few restrictions on certain positions they may hold, which do not transfer to their children).

          
It could be referring to a "ger toshav" – what we might call a "righteous gentile" or a non-Jew who has opted to live with the Jewish people, abide by the 7 Noahide Laws, and accept Jewish sovereignty. This category would clearly be distinct from "his brother."

          
Rashi offers two interpretations. The first focuses on the word "his" (which is a one-letter suffix in Hebrew), which Rashi explains to mean "his litigant." Rashi comes to this interpretation from a play on words from the word "agur," which means one who "collects arguments" to present against him in court. This likely refers to a litigant who is classified differently than a "brother" – who comes to court to settle a friendly dispute – particularly one who comes as an adversary.

          
Rashi's second interpretation is that the word "ger" is a play on words on a similar word which means "where one lives" (think "gur ba'aretz"), referring to people who are dividing property, such as siblings who are splitting physical objects they inherited together.

          
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch expands the sphere, saying "his ger" may refer to a neighbor, or one who lives under the same roof (think apartment buildings or condo units).

What is clear from these commentaries, the 'ger' in this context seems to refer to anything but a convert.

          
I think the message of "his ger" is that disputes – some may be civil, some uncivil –  come up with those who are fairly close to you and they should be brought before the magistrate and adjudicated.

          
While this may be informative as to when or in what circumstance a case is to be brought before the court, it does not instruct us as to how to go about presenting the cases best so they can be judged properly.

          
Which leaves us with the tale Rabbi Hertz shares in his Chumash. It is a Chassidic tale of a rabbi's wife who has a dispute with her "ozeret" (helper), who decides to present her case to a court. As she leaves the house, her husband rushes to accompany her, and when she asks him why he is coming, he says, "To provide a defense for the other woman, who will otherwise not have an advocate before the court."

          
The word "ger" can mean "stranger," and it can also mean "other." And the message of this tale is the message of how to judge others.

          
Maybe the best way to judge others is really not to judge others. But human nature is such that we always see ourselves as being right and the other person as being wrong. And we do rush to judge. And while some cases are black and white (like the shooter apprehended in Colorado in the aftermath of his horrific act), most cases between people are gray and have two sides to the story.

          
And it does not matter who the other side is – whether the person is wealthy, poor, a prominent person in a community, a maid, or even a derelict. Every person has a story, every perspective should have a chance to be heard, and after all sides are presented and defended, a judgment can be made.

            
As we come to Tisha B'Av once again, we are reminded of the kinds of behavior that Chazal tell us brought about the destruction of Jerusalem and the Holy Temple. May our shift to reserving judgment until after we've heard both sides serve as a merit for us to let us see the Temple rebuilt, speedily in our days.

At the Forefront of the Mind

Parshot MATOT-Masei 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Reading through Bamidar Chapter 32, one gets mixed feelings. The Bnei Gad and Bnei Reuven (tribes of Gad and Reuven) look at the land the Israelites have recently conquered, East of the Jordan, and they realize they have a match made in heaven. The land is fertile, perfect for farm animals, and wouldn't you know it! – they have many farm animals. (32:4)

Would it be possible, they ask, for these two tribes to settle there, without entering the land of Canaan? 

Formalities need to be worked out. How could they sit back while the rest of the nation is fighting the inhabitants of Canaan?

Moshe instructs them to build homes for their families and animals, and then they are to lead the battles. And then he tells Yehoshua and Elazar that these tribes must lead the battles until all the land is conquered. Only when their mission is complete may they return home. And if they do not complete their mission, they may not settle East of the Jordan – they will have to be divided in the land amongst the other tribes. 

Gad and Reuven agree, and their completion of their mission is confirmed in the book of Yehoshua 22. 

There are different approaches to understanding their request and the subsequent way in which they are viewed. Is it proper for them to specifically want to live outside of the land which will become Israel? Why would their "punishment" (were they to not fulfill their condition) be to live in the land? Surely that is a good thing! How many times does the agreement need to be repeated and reworded and reemphasized? [At least three times!] 

In halakha, the proper form of making a two-sided condition is modeled in 32:29-30 (Talmud Kiddushin 61a). This would be a positive outcome of the exchange. The guarantee that these troops, often considered the best in the nation, would lead is also a positive outcome. 

But many point out that the tribes of Gad and Reuven requested, first and foremost, to be able to build housing for their animals (32:16). Moshe only agreed if they put their number one priority on building homes for their families (32:24). In the following verses (25-26) they agree to Moshe's condition, putting their families before their animals. 

The main question I suppose running through everyone's head at the time was, "Is this good for the Jews?" 

Moshe was certainly not impressed. He felt that the desire to live outside the land echoed the mistake made by the spies and the people in the tale of woe that condemned the nation to their 40 years of wandering. And yet, their promise to lead the battles seems to suggest that it is not that they don't appreciate the land. They just recognize a good thing when they see it, and the land East of the Jordan is good for their financial needs. In this respect, while they do not feel that they specifically need to live in the land of Israel, they do recognize, and clearly plan to militarily support those who will be living in the land. This is certainly good for the Jews. 


The presumed financial loss they will assume were they to break their promise is the reason why their "punishment" will be to live in the land if they do not fulfill their obligations. The punishment is not suggesting the land is no good. But it is aimed at hitting them in their pocketbooks. It is human nature to want to do whatever one can in order to avoid losing the financial windfall that will bring long-term economic security. 

The agreement is repeated over and over because it is important that everyone understand what is expected and what the outcome is. While this did not pre-date the concept of written documents, certainly the public nature of this Gentlemen's Agreement would help assure that there would be no backsliding or reneging in the particulars. 

The halakhic outcome of how to make a conditional agreement – "If you fulfill your responsibilities, the outcome will be X, whereas if you do not fulfill your responsibilities, the outcome will be Y" – serves as a model for all time how to make clear agreements without loopholes, so both sides can avoid being cheated, and can agree in a manner that everyone is clear as to what are the expectations. 

Which leaves us with their lost sense of priorities: how could they think of their animals before thinking of their children? 

I think that they viewed their financial stability as the means to be able to take care of their children. "If I can assure my income is set and stable, I know I'll be able to provide for my children." 

Moshe set the record straight for them, that as much as finances are important, the homes for the children need to be built before the homes for the animals. They "got it" right away, and proceeded accordingly. 

All in all, I think the Gad and Reuven episode was "good for the Jews" on account of the lessons it contains.  

Not every Jew needs to live in Israel, but every Jew should support its army. When a financial windfall passes your way, take it. Make sure you take every precaution in business dealings to give something in order to get something – make all stipulations clear, follow through with your end of the bargain, and make sure that in the end the other side of the agreement is fulfilled. Lastly, we must recognize that our priorities are our families and children. Every deal, agreement, undertaking, venture must be considered for its repercussions in advance, especially as it pertains to reputations and family, so we see that in whatever way possible, our children are taken care of, provided for, and always remain the foremost priority of our day-to-day existence.

The Covenant of Peace

Parshat Pinchas

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Pinchas is most famous for his act of zealotry in punishing Zimri for an immoral act of defiance, which he perpetrated in front of Moshe and the elders, as a clear affront to God.

An interesting cast of characters have parshas named for them: Noach, Yisro, Korach, Balak, Pinchas (Chayei Sarah includes a name, which comes after her death). Each has his own story of intrigue making the coincidence of their being in this club a source for much homily.

What makes Pinchas unique is that he literally emerges out of nowhere, he is a protagonist for a very small amount of Torah-space, and then he disappears into obscurity again, only to reemerge in the books of the Prophets – in Yehoshua and Shoftim (Judges). The gift he receives, however, is one of the more coveted in the Torah: he receives from God בריתי שלום - "Britee Shalom," God's "Covenant of Peace."

What is the Covenant of Peace? Were you to google the term "Brit Shalom" you would find many websites dedicated to "bris without circumcision." As a quick aside I find it ironic that a certain website utilizes two negative commandments, not to imprint marks on the body and not to make cuttings in the flesh, to prove that bris milah goes against the Torah. Invoking negative commandments out of context (the first refers to tattoos and the second refers to cutting the flesh over the loss of a loved one) while ignoring Bereshit 17 and Vayikra 12:3 is a lesson in intellectual dishonesty. [I've written about this in my mohel blog.]

 Pinchas has become a symbol at the Bris Milah ceremony, as the first verses of our parsha are recited as a reminder of Pinchas's role in defending the covenant.

But was the "Covenant of Peace" meant to refer specifically to the Covenant of Circumcision? Every commentary has a different approach. Some include: That Zimri's relatives will not seek revenge, he had been grandfathered out of being a kohen and now he would inherit his father's position, that he will be the Messiah delivering the message of World Peace. And some talk about Pinchas being the defender of "the" covenant – Bris Milah.

I find the the Seforno's interpretation to be quite compelling, mostly because it carries a lesson we can all live by, live for, and pray for ourselves and our loved ones. The Seforno writes "The Covenant of Peace [meaning] from the Angel of Death. Pinchas outlived all the people of his generation – by a lot – as he was still the kohen in Mishkan Shilo at the time of the Pilegesh B'Givah story (Shoftim 20:28)… By most accounts this was at least 300 years later… Certainly, according to those who say Eliyahu was Pinchas, then he still lives."

It is worth noting that Ibn Ezra thoroughly rejects the idea that Pinchas was later Eliyahu. And, of course, there are non-literal interpretations of what the Pinchas=Eliyahu equation means. As well as what "Eliyahu still lives" means. A much longer discussion.

But even Ibn Ezra cannot get around the fact that Pinchas is still around at the end of the book of Shoftim, which means that Pinchas lived for a length of time that is completely uncharacteristic of his generation.

I do not believe that we live in a world in which a person can literally cheat the Angel of Death through living for centuries. But as the 93-year old great grandmother (who could pass for a sprite and with-it 75 year old) I met at a recent bris told me, "I get up every morning, swim my laps for 45 minutes and then I get on with my day. It's what keeps me alive."

For some people it is a physical activity – exercise, playing tennis, golf or basketball. For some people it is daily minyan or a regular shiur they attend. Some people volunteer their time at libraries, hospitals, or continue to work. Having that routine keeps you alive because there is something to look forward to on a daily basis.

While this is by no means a guarantee for longevity – genes and a healthy lifestyle probably have more to do with it than anything – perhaps the lesson from Pinchas is that if we know what we believe in and take a stand when necessary, we can hopefully merit the blessing of the covenant of Peace. That when our time does come, whether after 50, 75, 100 years or the proverbial 120, if we've lived our lives wholly and fully with no regrets, we may be blessed to have a peaceful end, without suffering, in a way that we and our loved ones can feel we got the better of the Angel of Death.

I certainly hope for everyone to live a long life, and to enjoy life and family for many years. But as no one lives forever, hopefully we can merit to go into the sunset riding at the top, where not even the Angel of Death can reach us.

The Deed in the Desert

Parshat Balak

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 At the beginning of Chapter 24, the Torah informs us of Bilaam's third attempt to curse the Israelites – which will once again turn into a blessing, in this case the most famous of the three. "When Bilaam realized that God desired to bless Israel, he did not seek out the occult forces ("nechashim") as he had done before. Instead, he set his gaze toward the desert. When Bilaam raised his eyes, and saw Israel dwelling at peace by tribes, God's spirit was on him."

 The word used to describe the occult, Bilaam's source of strength, is "nechashim" – which Ramban and others take to literally mean "snakes." Bilaam had intended to cause snakes to come attack the Israelites. Rashi and others say that "nechashim" refers to Bilaam's unique ability to divine when the occult forces were in his favor. On this last attempt however, he saw his own tricks would not work, so he looked to the desert.

 If he looked to see if the snakes curse would work (Ramban) – looking to the desert would send him to last week's parsha, when a plague of snakes was defeated through the creation of the copper serpent which was visible to all.

 If his divination skills were of no use (Rashi), why was he looking to the desert? Rashi said on the previous phrase (on "nechashim") that Bilaam's intent was to recall their sins, such that his curse could fall upon the remembered sin. And the sin? Rashi says, in one word, what it was – and why Bilaam needed to look to the desert.

 Rashi, in a typical example of the brilliance of his simplicity, says, "K'targumo," which means – look at the explanation of Targum. Targum Onkelos, Targum Yerushalmi and Targum Yonatan all say, "He looked to the desert to remember the (Golden) Calf, and the sin they had committed there."

 The Targum Yonatan goes on, in the second verse of the chapter, to describe what he saw now, as "Israel dwelled at peace by tribes." He quotes the same Midrash Rashi quotes about how the openings of their tents did not face one another, so there was privacy, but he adds that when they dwelled by tribes, they were "in their houses of study."

 With one word, Rashi told us "I might have my own feelings on this, but what you need to see is what Targum says about this." And unlike the many commentators who quote Rashi in full and then either choose to agree, disagree, or explain their own understanding of what Rashi meant, Rashi just passes the source along.

Rashi may have been referring specifically to Onkelos, but I like to think he was giving the credit to all the Targums. Because the lesson we see from the Targum Yonatan goes a step beyond just plain modest living, which is hopefully a universal concept all citizens of the world might appreciate.

 Targum Yonatan says they were engaged in Torah study, which is a level of greatness Bilaam could not comprehend in the slightest, or even attempt to understand or appreciate. And it was the antidote to what Bilaam saw as being the desert-downfall of the people.

 But the lesson is a profound one. Bilaam wanted to attack the Israelites for a sin done by the current generation's parents, 39 years earlier, for which the nation had been punished, had achieved atonement, and from which, as much as possible, they had moved on. Not only were they way past it, but they were currently engaged in Torah study, a sure sign that the sin of the Golden Calf episode was not part of who the people before him were.

 Whether it's a political campaign or just the way we relate to people we know, we cannot define people solely by their past deeds.

 Some people don't change, they're still doing the same thing (just in an older version of their past), their influences from their formative years still resonate strongly in defining who they are. And if they haven't changed, perhaps there is room to allow for treating them based on past impressions, if they are confirmed in the here and now.

 But some people do change, even dramatically, over time. They do allow positive influences to effect change in them, and they work hard to become better, more wholesome people. And to judge them based on their past alone would be completely out of line – we need to see what they are doing in the here and now. Bilaam saw the people in their Batei Midrash – which meant nothing to him – and he still saw the Golden Calf. He judged the children based on their parents, not realizing that the children were not only a different generation, but were their own individuals and communities.

 In today's media-driven age, it is a Herculean task to hide from one's past. Those who try often fail, no thanks to the internet and newspapers. But those who seek to move on from past foibles do best when they face and embrace their past and make it clear that the experiences of yesteryear "are part of what made me who I am. Here is where I learned from a mistake, and here is how I grew from that setback."

 And if, unlike Bilaam, we can learn to see that over 40 years, people might change and become more impressive, and certainly are not carbon copies of their parents (though in many case, being a carbon copy would not be a bad thing!), our overall experience with other people can be more fulfilling and more gratifying as we cross paths with others time and time again, each in our own journey through life.