Making Positive Actions Atone for Negative Ones

Parshat Shlach 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

The chapter which follows the episodes of the spies and its immediate aftermath contains the rules of two mitzvot – the meal offerings (mincha) and the dough offering (challah).

The obvious questions follow. Why here? Why now?

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch suggested that these commandments are recorded here – either because of a thematic connection to the spies story, or because it was a direct response to the entire spies tale, with commandments being issued as a correction to the sins of the people in chapters 13-14.

In discussing the meal offerings, Hirsch has a lengthy analysis of the purposes of the libations (Nesachim) associated with those offerings.

“Nesachim, then, are an expression of the fact that God shaped Israel's fate with his direct providence and guidance. This truth is the basis of the covenant of Abraham, which is fulfilled in Israel, and is also the basis of the mission assigned to Israel for the sake of the Torah. Israel's fate is directly shaped by God's guidance, and it was the disregard of this truth which was the essence of the sin of [the spies and those who supported them]… The lesson to be learned from Nesachim is that the obedience to God is the sun that fertilizes our fields and the triumphant sword of our victories. Thus the close connection between the Nesachim and the sin of the spies seems self-evident. This [the fact that Israel's fate in the land depends on obedience to God] is also the implication of the introductory words, “When you shall come (to the land)” (15:2) 

The two mitzvot are followed by the rules of communal sin offerings for idolatry and individual sin offerings for the same. Introducing his commentary on the communal offerings here, Hirsch writes, “The sin of the spies was that they cast doubt on God’s providence over our earthly existence and whether this providence is exclusive and sufficient. By suggesting ‘we ought go back to Egypt’ they reached the point of complete rebellion and complete defection from God… the assumption of this portion is that the sin [of the people in listening to the spies] could be repeated (by) the nation or by individuals.”

Let us bear in mind that each of the mitzvot in question also begin with the phrase, “And it will be when you come to land,” indicating that despite all that has happened, they will be coming to the land. It will only be a matter of time.

 Perhaps, using a page from Hirsch’s methodology playbook, we can suggest that when people turn away from God, there is a consequence, even a fallout. The question then becomes, what do we do about it now?

For those who turn away from God, and don’t care any more, there is little to discuss.

But for those who have turned but regret it or want to return, we can take the lesson from the Torah as gleaned from the specific commandments, which include very precise instructions that are to be followed “to the T.” The first sin of the spies came from not following specific directions. They were supposed to report to Moshe, and instead they reported to everyone.

Perhaps the sin of the lie about the land rose like dough, to the point that it was uncontrollable, so the mitzvah fulfilled with dough serves as a form of correction.

What does it mean for us? We are not perfect. We often know when we’ve done the wrong thing – certainly when we do it on purpose, and even often enough when we are guilty of errors in judgment, errors in decisions, errors that either prevent us from doing the right thing, or which cause us to do things we regret afterwards. What to do?

If we are able to have the awareness, or if we are able to accept the critique from friends or loved ones who care (though giving critique is a skill unto itself, which many well-meaning people fail miserably at delivering!), we can take immediate steps to rectify wrongdoings.

Speak too much Lashon hora (gossip/slander)? Limit phone conversations. Or write “Guard thy tongue” on a cell phone screen cover.

Forget to say blessings? Hang reminders and posters near refrigerators, pantry cabinets and tables where eating takes place.

Thinking negative all the time? There are dozens of “inspirational text messages” one could sign up for through different websites.

This is the challenge we all have – to recognize deficiencies in ourselves and try to take steps to fix them. It isn’t easy for anyone. No one has an easy time changing and improving. For most of us, it’s probably not even worth the effort, especially if “I like the way I am, and I’m happy to deal with me as me.”

But those methods did not work for the spies and the people of their generation, which is why they did not merit to see the Promised Land. In our times, thank God the Promised Land has been reached. But we continue to have goals including to see peace in the Promised Land, and ultimately a Messianic Era. May our efforts at improving ourselves, challenging as they all are, be what helps us see our ultimate goals actualized in our lifetimes.

Biblical Depression: Is Moshe Suicidal?

Parshat B'ha'aloskha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the disturbing episodes in the parsha concerns the people who are complaining about the manna, complaining about a lack of meat, as they remember the fish and the wonderful fruits and vegetables (cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic) they enjoyed in Egypt. Now, it is one thing to complain. It is an entirely other thing to whine and kick and scream, crying hunger, when hunger was not the problem. After all, while they may have been tired of it, the manna was bread from heaven that was the key reason why the people were able to survive for 40 years in the wilderness, beyond the simple grace of God.

 Aside from the disturbing perspective we can have regarding their complaint, Moshe’s reaction seems so out of character, we begin to wonder if he has snapped.

Moshe says to God, “Why have you been bad to Your servant, and why have I not found favor in Your eyes, that You put the burden of this people upon me? Did I conceive this nation, did I give birth to it, that you expect me to carry it as a nursing mother carries its babe? From where am I to find meat for everyone, as they cry out to me for meat? I can’t carry this nation by myself! If this is what You are going to do to me, then kill me now, lest I see the evil that befalls me.” (11:11-15)

I won’t jump so far to say that Moshe was suicidal – were that the case, this might have ended differently – but there is strong evidence from the things he says here that he was ready to give everything up and not continue in his role as leader, simply on account of the complaints of the people. (We'll note, he asked God to kill him, and made no mention of possibly achieving such an end through his own hand) They are not far from having left Sinai. This episode is still very early in Moshe’s tenure, certainly before the incident of the spies, which would fate the people to perish in the wilderness. Is Moshe really willing to check out so soon?

There are a number of components to Moshe’s complaint. Let’s focus our attention on two of them: A. Moshe complains that he hasn’t found favor in God’s eyes. B. He wonders if he is to carry the nation by himself, without help.

Some of the commentaries (Ibn Ezra, Seforno, etc.) claim that Moshe is referencing how he has not found favor in God’s eyes since the burning bush, when he asked for God to send someone else to be the Redeemer. It is hard to reconcile this claim, considering all the good that has been bestowed upon him. Could Moshe be exaggerating?

What is amazing is that while God responds to most of Moshe’s concerns in the section which follows – Seventy elders (you won’t be alone), they’ll have meat (and fish, if necessary) – He does not refute or respond to Moshe’s claim of not having found favor in God’s eyes. Through Moshe’s demonstration of despair, and without a real response from God, there are important lessons to be taken from how Moshe pulls through this seeming moment of Depression, which even leads him to want to die.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik noted that Moshe’s discovery here was that he had to be the nursing father to the people, in addition to the role of teacher, which he had embraced and begun to fine tune ever since emerging from the mountain.

And so, perhaps there are two important take-home lessons that the Torah teaches us through saying nothing.

Firstly, a person must have a sense of purpose. When Moshe realized his role as teacher was no longer “the” challenge of his life, and he was able to embrace his new role as nursing father, it looks like it became a new lease on life. And in all of Moshe’s challenges in the coming Torah portions, how many parents can look at Moshe’s relationship with the people and relate heavily to his exasperations? “Stop complaining! You have all you need! Stop asking for things which you ‘want’ but are unnecessary to your survival! There are children starving in Africa!”

Moshe’s seeming Depression is a harder answer. One can’t simply tell someone with Depression to “get over it.” But people with Depression can be encouraged to find the strength within themselves to find the help they need.

Maybe God ignored Moshe because He knew that Moshe had that strength, and that Moshe just needed his other concerns to be addressed, and that once he saw he was not alone and that the people could be provided for irrespective of his role, he no longer wished to die.

May those who suffer from such feelings of inadequacies be blessed to find comfort in the friends and loved ones they have. May all of us be blessed to find a sense of purpose for our existence, so every day can be embraced for the challenges and blessings that it lays before us.

To Be Jewishly Inspired - Find Inspiring Jews!

Parshat Naso

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the laws discussed in Parshat Naso concerns the Nazir, a person - man or woman - who chooses to remove himself or herself from society to a limited degree, through not consuming wine and grape products, refraining from cutting hair, and avoiding becoming “tameh” through contact with a dead body. Much has been written as to why a person would want to take on these borderline ascetic practices, and those answers are beyond the scope of this essay.

Suffice it to say, Seforno reminds even those who will take on ascetic practices that there is a realm of asceticism that the Torah supports (although perhaps begrudgingly), and there is a level that is “too far,” that even puts the ascetic at risk.

“He shouldn’t torture himself with fasting – which takes him away from serving God, and he should not flog himself or torment his body – as is the way of ascetics in other religions. He must merely separate himself from wine, which otherwise leads to licentiousness. This way, he will not weaken himself (through denial of necessary food).”

Getting back to the Nazir, what is only a little troubling is the prohibition on grape products other than wine. A restriction on wine is completely understandable. We all know what a little too much wine can do to the mind, to reason, and to one’s ability to think and act rationally.

But grapes? Raisins? You can eat as many of these as you want and never even get close to drunkenness, because without fermentation, there will be no alcohol! So why doesn’t the Torah give allowance for eating raw and unprocessed grapes, while disallowing the Nazir from imbibing in wine?

The simple answers that are offered by some of the commentaries seem intuitive. It’s a fence to prevent a slippery slope – consuming grapes will lead to consuming wine (Ibn Ezra). Grapes are what produce wine, so it’s one step removed. (Alshikh) Alshikh goes on to say that “anyone who distances oneself from sin, and from that which causes sin… there is no doubt that he will be considered holy.”

And so we see that even the Torah sets up the concept of a fence, of a slippery slope, of a need to take on restrictions that go beyond the level of the law, just to preserve the law.

How often are we willing to do this? I recently finished reading an OTD memoir, written by someone who is no longer part of the observant community. Reading about the community of Jews who have abandoned all forms of observance to be “freed of the shackles of Judaism” and in order to “be the true me,” one tends to wonder how much a slippery slope played into the choices that were made. It is hard to know how many people could find fulfillment in a different “stream” of Orthodoxy than the kind they reject if they only saw the options available to them.

At the same time, a “crisis of faith,” or even just a “breaking of the bonds” may be the end result of a circumstance, situation and process that is impossible to summarize in a very short essay.

One question that stuck out at me from this memoir went something like this: “If I hadn’t been born into this religion, would I choose it on my own? Would this particular brand of living we live have had any appeal whatsoever?”

The author didn’t satisfactorily give an answer. But I will take a simple stab at it. Every person in the world, upon reaching adulthood, has the opportunity to ask real questions, take long looks in the mirror and ask ‘is this who I am?’ A friend of mine who works on a college campus once told me that he gets several inquiries a week from students who are looking to explore Judaism (most are not serious, they are just experimenting college kids looking for their flavor of the week).

But I look at the great rabbis of old, and of our own times. I see their brilliance, I read of their scholarship and their dedication to find answers to some of the most difficult moral and ethical dilemmas humans can face, and how they scour all of rabbinic literature to come to their fantastic and inspirational conclusions. Are they perfect humans? Never. But are they tremendous sources of inspiration? Yes. And did they find the truth in the Judaism they knew and draw out incredible lives from it? Absolutely.

I look at the righteous converts to Judaism. Those who “had it all.” They were “free of the shackles of Judaism.” They could go where they wanted, eat what they wanted, do whatever they wanted. But they found their lives to be missing something – and whatever that something was, they found it in observant Judaism.

And I am inspired. Because they chose to put up fences. They chose to accept that when wine is forbidden, grapes are forbidden – even though grapes, in and of themselves, are harmless and will never do what wine does to a person.

Is everything about Judaism perfect? Surely not. To bring one silly example – I would love to get to an airport three hours before my flight, and sit down to have lunch at a restaurant airport. Right now, it’s only in the cards to do this at Ben Gurion airport, and that’s OK.

For this life that we choose to be meaningful, we must jump into it fully, accept that it is imperfect, and be comfortable living with questions. And, as the grapes and raisin prohibition for the Nazir teaches us, we need to see that even in an effort to make Judaism more deeply meaningful, we still have fences and boundaries we put up, to make sure we don’t go too far in any direction; not too far that we damage ourselves and our health, and not too far that we lose sight of what our observant life is supposed to do for us in giving us a meaningful existence.

May we all be blessed to find the right kind of balance and continue to enhance our relationship with the God we know is One, Whom we serve with all our hearts and souls.

7 Weeks Which Are "Temimot"

Shavuot 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

This year, Shavuot begins on Saturday night, and since one cannot begin preparing for the holiday before Shabbat ends anyway, the point being raised here about beginning Shavuot early is a non-issue in 2016. However, the perspective about the significance of the holiday, especially as it relates to the completion of the 7 weeks of Sefirat Ha’Omer, is nonetheless very relevant.

The verse in Vayikra 23:15 that describes the Sefirat Ha’Omer period expresses that the 7-week counting is supposed to be 7 weeks which are “temimot.” The word “Temimot” is often translated to be “complete,” and is the classic reason suggested for why Shavuot, of all holidays, must begin after the stars have come out. Commentaries on the Shulchan Arukh, such as Magen Avraham (intro to OC 494), note that it is merely Kiddush which must be recited after the stars come out, but nevertheless, the custom has spread widely to wait to pray Maariv until after the stars have come out. (See also Yalkut Yosef 494 who discusses beginning Shavuot early as well, due to how late the stars come out in the almost-summer time)

The Midrash Rabba (Vayikra 28) says the word “Temimot” has a very different meaning. Unlike the completion of a numerical sense (49 complete 24-hour days), it describes the weeks being “complete” or “full” on a spiritual level: “When are they Temimot, Rabbi Chiya asks – when Israel is fulfilling God’s will.”

Jumping on the specific terminology used, the Ktav V’Hakkabalah notes that if the verse signified a quantitative measure of time – 49 full 24-hour days – then the verse should have used the word “Shleimot” which is much less confusing, much less subject to reinterpretation. The word “temimot,” on the other hand, is a word which signifies a qualitative completeness He brings a number of examples of how the term “Shalem” means complete on a quantitative level, in which nothing is missing, everything is full and complete in its measurements.

When there is a qualitative completeness, Ktav V’Hakkabalah argues, the word “Tamim” is employed – he brings several verses to prove this point as well. There are exceptions to the rule, of course, because Hebrew always has exceptions to its rules, but the fundamental message he shares jumps on the back of the Midrashic passage quoted above.

The seven weeks period is meant to be a preparation time – one in which each day a person is getting closer to reliving the event of the giving of the Torah. A little more commitment each day, a little more thought each day, a little more action each day to indicate how significant this time is in our collective history, both on the individual level and on the national level. We as individuals and we as the nation of Israel were given the gift that defines us, that makes us different from the world, that has contributed so much to our uniqueness throughout history: the Torah. And it is our thoughts, as well as the deeds which stem from those thoughts, that make our weeks full.

It is also what makes our lives full of meaning, because our purpose is very well defined. We know we have more than just a daily grind. We have a daily service, a daily devotion, and countless opportunities every day to make our days, our weeks, our lives “Temimot,” complete, on account of our efforts at getting closer to God.

So every time we pray, every time we designate money for charity, every time we visit the sick, comfort the mourner, prepare food for others, do an act of chesed (kindness), look our for others, put others up, control our anger, say a kind word, avoid gossiping (lashon hora), say a blessing – whether for food or any occasion when a blessing is warranted, we are making our weeks complete.

Let this holiday of Shavuot, a holiday so often dedicated to the study of Torah, serve as the shot in the arm from which we can all benefit and grow, in making our days and weeks, months and years, into a life of profound meaning which is measured by the quality of our commitment and dedication.

We all want quantity – and in good health – but the quality of the life is what most people look back at when it’s over. Quantity is in God’s hands (and, depending on how we take care of ourselves, may be in our hands as well). But quality of life depends very much on our own input.

There are no guarantees about anything. But if we don’t make the effort to improve the quality and meaning we seek in our lives, then the numbers game of life remains one judged by “how long” instead of “how significant.”

Not Kering At All

Parshat Bechukotai 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

One of the words that stands out in the Tochacha (Rebuke) of Parshat B’chukotai, a word which very clearly refers to bad behavior that people will exhibit towards God, and the consequential response God will display towards those people, is “keri.” Leaving out all the jokes we could make about any government official who may have a similar sounding name, we must ask what the Hebrew word in this context means.

In his Living Torah, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s note on the word, which he translates as “If you are indifferent” towards Me, reads as follows. “Literally, 'If you walk with Me with keri.' Variously translated, 'If you make Me a temporary concern' (Targum Yonathan; Sifra; Rashi; Chizzkuni); 'If you harden yourselves against Me' (Targum; Tosafoth, Rosh HaShanah16a, s.v. Keri); 'If you refuse to walk My way' (Menachem, quoted in Rashi, Rashbam); 'If you become overconfident in your dealings with Me' (Ibn Ezra); 'If you become rebellious against Me' (Saadia; Ibn Janach; Septuagint); 'If you make it a burden to walk with Me' (Targum, according to Rashi); or, 'If You treat My [acts] as accident' (Arukh; Moreh Nevukhim 3:36; Radak, Sherashim). The word keri can thus denote triviality, harshness, refusal, overconfidence, rebellion, a burden, or a natural accident.”

This “comment” is pretty comprehensive, though I will add two more interpretations: The Midrash Aggadah defines keri as meaning Not committed to following My ways. K’tav Ve’Hakabbalah explains the term to refer to being stubborn – intending to strike at God’s honor, and to provoke Him. The result being “God will reign down punishment that strike at you, which you will feel strongly.” The prevailing argument is that there is no comparison between one who violates a sin for pleasure reasons and one who violates just to anger God.

The essence of all of these possibilities can be summarized in two words: Not caring.

Not caring about God. Not caring about mitzvos. Not caring about the Torah. Not caring about other people. Looking to provoke, looking to anger, looking to overturn apple carts, looking to destroy relationships.

The fundamental message in the Rebuke is warnings to avoid turning away from God. And maybe, this whole “not caring” bit is the hidden ingredient that puts a person in the bad camp.

In the Torchacha, the word “keri” appears 7 times: 4 times it refers to how the people will treat God, and 3 times is God saying since you treated Me that way, “I will behave towards you with keri.” Seven is a significant number in the Torah – it reminds us of Shabbos (7 days), of the counting of the Omer (7 weeks), of the years of Shmittah (Sabbatical year – after 7 years), Yovel (Jubilee – 50th year after 7 cycles of Shmittah). The Tochacha itself utilizes the number 7 to declare how manifold God will punish for malfeasance and sin (you got it – 7 times the violation!).

And so, we must ask ourselves, how often is a keri attitude the one which drives our M.O.? I think that most people are not going as far as sinning specifically to anger God. Typically, a person who has a bad moment or a bad episode is succumbing to the evil inclination, is giving into a desire for momentary pleasure which happens to be a sin.

Thank God there is plenty of pleasure for us to imbibe and enjoy without resorting to sinful behaviors and acts! So perhaps, with such a short amount of time before Shavuos, a time when many of us will crack open our Holy Books for our most dedicated hours of learning Torah in the year, we ought to ask ourselves if we care?

If all that we do is merely say things and give lip service to how we are supposed to be, but we don’t put into action the things we learn in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), or take to heart the lesson we we were supposed to learn when poor decisions came back to burn us, we are acting in a way that is a violation of keri.

Let us take the number 7 – whether from the perspective of the specific mitzvos that include the number 7, or simply from noting how it is significant in the Torah, and let us aim to counter the 7 “not carings” in the parsha, to aim to increase our own “caring” sevenfold.

If we care for one another, if we care for our community, if we care for the global Jewish community, if we care for our brothers and sisters in Israel, if we care for God, Torah, Mitzvos, Kiddush Hashem (sanctifying God’s name), not only will the Tochacha not come true, but we will merit to be blessed sevenfold per the blessings that come from fulfilling “Bechukotai telechu” – following God’s ways.