Stones, Reminders, Accepting the Torah, Connecting with God

Parshat Ki Tavo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

After Moshe’s very long speech (chapters 5-26) concludes, the last few chapters of the Torah consist of Moshe’s final messages to the people, including detailed instructions of their early days in the land of Canaan/Israel.

Of course, some of this was instructed back in chapter 11 verse 29 at the beginning of Parshat Re’eh when Moshe told the people that shortly after you enter the land you will end up at Mt. Gerizim and Mt. Eival where the blessings and curses will take place.

Now, in chapter 27, Moshe’s instructions sound like this.

“On the day that you cross the Jordan to the land that God your Lord is giving you, you must erect large stones and plaster them with lime. When you then cross over, you shall write on them all the words of this Torah. In this manner you shall come to the land that God your Lord is giving you... When you cross the Jordan, you shall set up the stones that I am now describing to you on Mount Ebal… There you shall then build an altar to God your Lord. It shall be a stone altar, and you shall not lift up any iron to it… on this [altar] that you shall sacrifice burnt offerings. You shall also sacrifice peace offerings and eat there, rejoicing before God your Lord. On the stones, you shall write all the words of this Torah in a clear script.” (27:2-8, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translation, Living Torah) 

When we turn to the book of Yehoshua, we find two narratives that include the use of stones. The first is in Chapter 4, when they cross the Jordan, and the second is in Chapter 8, after their defeat of the city of Ai.

In Yehoshua 4, the text describes two sets of stones – one taken by representatives of each tribe who each take a stone from the dried bottom of the river, “And these twelve stones, which they took out of the Jordan, Yehoshua set up in Gilgal.” (4:20) The other set of twelve stones “Yehoshua set up… in the midst of the Jordan, in the place where the feet of the priests who bore the Ark of the covenant stood…” (4:9) These stones were presumably covered by the water when it returned to its normal place and current.

In Yehoshua 8, after destroying Ai, the verse tells us:

“Then Yehoshua built an altar to the Lord God of Israel on Mount Eival. As Moshe, the servant of the Lord, commanded the children of Israel, as it is written in the book of the law of Moshe, an altar of whole stones, upon which no (man) has lifted up any iron. And they offered upon it burnt-offerings to the Lord and sacrificed peace-offerings. And he wrote there upon the stones a copy of the law of Moshe, which he wrote in the presence of the children of Israel. And all Israel, and their elders and officers and their judges, stood on this side of the Ark and on that side, before the priests the Levites, the bearers of the Ark of the covenant of the Lord, the stranger as well as the native born, half of them over against Mount Gerizim and half of them over against Mount Eival, as Moshe the servant of the Lord had commanded, to bless the people of Israel first. And afterward he read all the words of the law, the blessing and the curse, according to all that is written in the book of the Torah. There was not a word of all that Moshe commanded, which Yehoshua did not read before all the congregation of Israel, with the women, and the little ones, and the strangers that walked among them.” (8:30-35) (Translation Chabad.org library) 

The idea that Yehoshua did not veer from the instructions of Moshe is certainly a powerful message of following a mesorah, a heritage, and maintaining a tradition. The only problem is that if we read the simple text, he was supposed to do this as the first thing he did after crossing the Jordan!

The easy answer is that it was impractical to do so, as the cities of Jericho and Ai stood in their way and they could not simply prance into the middle of the country without meeting some resistance.

However, the Tosefta in Sotah (8:6) says that is indeed what happened! They went straight from the Jordan to Mounts Gerizim and Eival, a distance of 60 “mil” and no one stood in their way!

On the other hand, there is the opinion of Rabbi Yishmael that the stones were set up right away, but the blessings and curses took place at a reunion 14 years later (Yerushalmi Sotah 7:3).

Both of these last views suggest that like the Torah, the book of Yehoshua is not necessarily recorded in chronological order of how things transpired. Perhaps the contradicting views of what actually happened serve to remind us that some instructions can only be fulfilled when the reality allows it to take place. The 14 years delay, for example, simply follows the reality that it took that long for the Israelites to completely conquer and settle the land. They could not move forward with blessings and curses until their mission was accomplished.

On a totally different plain, Yigal Ariel (“Oz Va’Anavah” on Yehoshua and Shoftim) notes the clear parallels that exist between the text of Yehoshua 8 and a different chapter in the Torah, Shmot 24. In both cases there is an altar built at the bottom of a mountain. Ariel compares the 12 monuments at the bottom of Sinai to the 12 stones taken out of the Jordan (in 4:8) – thereby connecting the two incidents of the stones in terms of their symbolism. He continues noting that in Shmot 24 and Yehoshua 8 the burnt offerings and peace offerings were brought. In both places, attention was paid to two halves: Moshe sprinkled half the blood on the people and half on the altar, while Yehoshua had half the people on one mountain and half on the other. Moshe read the book of the Covenant to the people, while Yehoshua wrote all of the Torah on the stones. In Moshe’s case the people cried out “We will do and we will listen,” while in Yehoshua’s case they absorbed the blessings and the curses. 

On the one hand, the fulfillment of Moshe’s instructions served as a lesson for the people in terms of how to follow rules and tradition. On the other hand, in a sense, it was a reenactment of the events at Sinai, shortly after the splitting of a waterway and the formal receiving of the Torah.

What are our lime-covered stones? How do we reconnect to that event? How do we feel the gravity of our connection to the Almighty? How do we see His mighty hand directing our lives? How do we find strength in the most special relationship we have with Him?

Selichot begin this Saturday night, and Rosh Hashana will follow 8 days later. If we are prepared, we should be blessed to know the answers to these questions.

Hanging the Body After Execution

Parshat Ki Tetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The last two verses of Chapter 21 seem to describe a very clear case. A person who is executed by the court is to have his body hanged from a tree for display for a short period of time (the hanging is not the execution – as the person is already dead), presumably so people will learn a lesson to want to avoid crimes which incur the death penalty. After the brief hanging, the body is to be taken down and buried.

Many of the commentaries note two things here: the person in this case is guilty of cursing God, and the punishment was stoning. The person who is stoned is thus subsequently put on display, albeit briefly, so people will learn the gravity of the crime.

Seriously? Blasphemy = Stoning?

The truth is that the Torah depicts two stories for which the punishment was stoning. In both cases the stoning verdict was delivered by God to Moshe, and Moshe in turn gave over the execution responsibility to all of Israel. The first case is in Parshat Emor – the case of the blasphemer, and the second case is in Parshat Shlach – the case of the Sabbath-day wood gatherer.

Whether people found the execution distasteful or embraced the Divine edict, they participated knowing that this was God’s will.

So here are a few preliminary thoughts, before we look at some interesting commentary. First, we do not execute people for these kinds of crimes. Second, execution of any type must be an extremely serious undertaking. Many cultured societies today do not approve of execution because who are we to play God? Killing a murderer, they argue, makes us no better than the murderer. [I’ve argued in this column before that capital punishment for murderers is mercy for everyone else! But the argument of capital punishment for non-capital crimes such as the two cases in the Torah is a difficult one to counter with our modern sensibilities.] Third, not everything God tells us to do must be to our liking. Fourth, without a leader with a connection to the Divine such as the one Moshe had, this kind of pronouncement is useless, ineffective, and not to be followed.

Now for commentary. Targum Yonatan explains why the body must be buried immediately after being put on display and taken down. “It is a disgrace before God to hang a person up. But this person’s sins caused it! And yet, since he is created in the image of God, he must be taken down and buried so people don’t mock him, and they shouldn’t have a chance to look upon the corpses of sinners…”

This would indicate there is a lesson for the people to learn. But it’s not as much about punishment as it is about the dignity of a person, even after the person has been executed.

Rashbam comes at the scenario from the opposite perspective. “When people see a person hanging on a tree, they are wont to curse the judges or the relatives of the executed, or they want to curse anyone because they’re simply mad over the “small sin” that has led to an execution, such as the Sabbath wood-gatherer. Since these kinds of things tend to upset people, there’s no sense in giving further fuel for the cursing of the judges.” Therefore the body put on display is to be taken down right away.

It’s a difficult balance to understand God’s laws of this nature, while reconciling our own distaste for seeing people treated that way – whether simply executed or further displayed – especially when the crime is one whose capital punishment is hard to understand.

And so I want to take the message to a level I hope we can understand. Kohelet teaches us that (7:20) “There is no righteous person in the land who does good and does not sin.” In other words, people are imperfect. Humans are flawed. No one is a tzaddik (perfectly righteous) all the time.

It is impossible to be that way.

For some errors in judgment, moral lapses, ethical lapses, people suffer humiliation, a deed which is compared to murder when perpetrated by another person (“one who whitens the face of his friend is as if he has murdered him”). In other words, persons who embarrass themselves on account of their deeds, that humiliation is upon them. It’s their fault.

But the person who aims to humiliate them again is guilty of murder!

How quick are we to remember only the negative things we know about a person? How ready are we to share the deed someone we know did a long time ago, when there is no evidence that the person is still doing it?

It’s true of bad things people did, but it’s also true of good things people did! Which Jew do you still refer to as a “Baal Teshuvah” even though the person has been living a Torah lifestyle for many years? Which Jew, who chose to join the Jewish people years ago, do you still refer to as a “convert?”

These titles should be points of honor! But the reality is that too many people look at those they label this way as people with deficiencies, as people who are not good enough, as people who don’t really know everything a Jew knows, as people whose Jewish-lapses need to be explained because they “didn’t grow up the way we grew up.”
This is humiliation. This is hanging the corpse again. This should be as detestable and as distasteful as having our own skeletons taken out of the closet by others just to destroy our lives again.

Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are around the corner. Let us be extremely mindful not to embarrass those who have suffered humiliation and embarrassment due to whatever past when that past is history and they are living a new life void of those past behaviors.

Teshuvah is possible! If they’ve achieved it, their past deeds should never come up again in conversation, because we’d be guilty of making associations about people we know, using deeds of people who look and sound like them, but no longer exist.

And that is a terrible crime.

Bringing Back Majesty

Parshat Shoftim 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

The rules for how to appoint a king are followed by a few personal rules and restrictions which the Torah places on a him: he is supposed to be an observant Jew (with all that entails), and he may not have any excess of horses, money, or too many wives.

Beyond that the Torah gives him specific commandments once he is on the throne. He has to have a Torah written for himself, which he is to read every day, so he should be God-fearing, and observe the Torah properly. The regular reading of Torah is supposed to impact one’s character (Ibn Ezra). Midrash Tanaim suggest the daily readings are meant to be a time filler. When he is not busy with other things – his family, his job, etc – this is how he is to fill his time. And through his learning, and even more so through his teaching and preaching, he will come to fear God.

Alshikh notes how the three restrictions suggest a parallel to the three different kinds of crowns discussed in Avot and Shmos Rabba – the crown of Torah, Kehunah (Priesthood), and Malchut (Kingship). Torah is the only one open to all, and is the key to success in the other two. A king or Kohen without Torah will be a failure. But someone who acquires Torah has the chance to achieve Kehunah and Malchut – not in terms of becoming a Kohen or a King (those are based on birth), but in terms of taking Majesty upon oneself.

Alshikh goes one step further, because there is a 4th crown as well, the crown of a good name – the Keter Shem Tov – which is achieved when people say, “That’s a good man. That’s a good woman. What a cheerful, positive soul. I wish I could be like that.” True majesty.

He explains that the acquisition of this good name comes from the best self-help book in the world that addresses every social and religious character building skill we might need to achieve the coveted majesty: the Torah. But we have to study well, learn hard, to find all that the Torah can teach us.

Shammai famously taught that a person should set regular time for Torah study, and fascinatingly in that same list of his top 3 teachings, he says to greet everyone with a smiling countenance. This is the first step to achieving majesty.

Rabbi Yishmael has a similar teaching in Avot 3:12 – “You should greet everyone with joy!” In other words, maybe the door to majesty begins with being happy.

In Avot D’rabi Nasan, the teaching of Shammai is stepped up a level – the Majestic countenance is achieved through making another person feel good. A person who gives someone else money but has a sour face at the time is counted as having given nothing. But a person who gives nothing but a smile is considered as if having given a lot of money.

Anyone who has children and grandchildren knows this. The gifts are nice. But more, they want to be told that they’re good kids. They want to see a smile. To be told how proud we are of them for all the things they do.

How many people tell their adult children things like that? “Son. Daughter. You work hard. You support yourself, your family. Your children are beautiful. I’m proud of how you are raising them. The choices you make.”

Many people have wonderful personal filters. Some people do not.

As a mohel I see many people interact with their adult children (the parents of a newborn). In many cases, for example, more than wanting their parents to pay for the bris, all they want from the baby’s grandparents is love and support. And those kinds of grandparents of the baby say, “I’m here for you. Let me know how I can help.” Or they just do everything that is needed. These people get it. They are wonderful. Extremely loved and appreciated because they love and appreciate.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen the other side as well. Rolled eyes at all kinds of things. Telling the new parents what to do, how to parent, almost not trusting them to make the choices they need to make, the mistakes they need to make, the lessons they need to learn from experience, not from being told what to do or what not to do. And, sadly, some relationships end over these things. Parents who write off their children, Younger parents who write off their parents, don’t give them access to the grandchildren, etc. All of which is unfortunate and tragic.

So we need to be less critical and more embracing – this includes interactions from parent to smaller children, grandparent to little children, parents and grandparents of adult children. We have to smile more. Be happier. It will change our lives immeasurably.

I’ve heard Dennis Prager, author of “Happiness is a Serious Problem,” argue that people have a moral obligation to be happy. To not be moody. To bring cheer to others.

It’s an imperfect world. We’re not going to do it all the time - burnout is possible. But imagine: if we greet others with a smile, with Simcha, could we leave a room less cheerful than it was when we entered?

Think of people we know who seem to always have a smile on their faces. Don’t we naturally feel happier, more at ease, when we think about them? Now think about the people we know who always seem to be frowning or looking miserable. I rest my case, your honor.

It's a life-challenge for all us in our aim to be more Majestic.

If we can greet people with a smile (Shammai) or, even better, with joy (Rabbi Yishmael), we will achieve Majesty! We will be kinglike! We will carry the Keter Shem Tov with pride and dignity! If we study and know Torah – what is right and wrong, and use it as a guide for moral character development, we will be honored. And if we tell children and grandchildren we believe in them and are proud of them, we will be loved even without giving physical gifts.

Being positive is a challenge – but it is doable. And to be kinglike we must take upon ourselves to do it, as much and as often as possible.

Seeing is Knowing. Not Seeing is Believing

Parshat Re'eh

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There’s an old saying “Seeing is Believing.” But the truth is, while many idioms have truth to them – this one is factually inaccurate. 

I’ve watched many a magic trick – both live and on recorded videos. I see things that I cannot believe. I know they are tricking me. 

A more accurate statement is sometimes made in court. “Your honor, I know what I saw.” I may not know the context, I may not know the background, I may not know what preceded what I saw, or what happened after I left. But I know what I saw. 

I can speculate about all the things I believe were going on. But I only know what I saw. 

When things are going well for the NY Mets, their fans say “You gotta believe!” Thought irrelevant this year, all the realists mock the “believing” because we “know” what the end of the season will look like. We see it every year, so we know. 

Our parsha begins with the word “Re’eh. See – I have placed before you today a blessing and a curse.” Perhaps we can argue that Moshe, who in some ways is innovative, but in some ways quite repetitive in the book of Devarim, is putting his cards on the table. He is not saying, “Reeh – see! Behold!” He is saying, matter of factly - “Re’eh. Look. This is the reality. Obviously blessing is where we want to be. Not being recipients of a curse.” 

As Chizkuni puts it quite succinctly, “Until now he rebuked them to undertake ‘fear of heaven;’ from here and one he begins to place the mitzvoth before them.” Which I take to mean that you can preach fear of heaven from today until doomsday, but without practical steps for how to get there, such as through the observance of mitzvoth, the preaching will go nowhere. 

Moshe is saying to the people – Look. You have God. I think I’ve made the case plainly as to how you are to relate to Him. But LOOK. You also have people – you, your son, your daughter, your male and female servant, the Levite. 

Countless times the stranger, orphan and widow are also mentioned. There is a very clear balance that we must “see!” both a relationship with God, and a need to look out for our fellow man. 

At the splitting of the sea, the people saw God’s mighty hand, and they “believed” in God. It is most interesting that seeing doesn’t lead to knowing God. For Egypt, on the other hand, since even before the plagues, God’s goal was “that Egypt will know that I am God.” And sure enough, as they realized they were trapped and that the water will be coming down on them, the Torah tells us “Egypt said I will fall before Israel because God is fighting for them against Egypt.” Egypt knows, yet Israel merely believes. How? 

It is a great question – especially since there is a time in the Torah when God notes that Israel will know that I am the God Who took them out of Egypt (Shmot 29:46) 

Israel saw what Egypt saw, but the conclusion each side came to was a matter of perspective. 

Because belief by definition comes from something you don’t see. I can believe the Mets have a chance, even though I see them losing. Because belief requires a suspension of what I know to be true. If I know it, I don’t need to believe it. It is a certainty. For example – at the sea, everyone saw the result. They “knew” Egypt was dead and gone. But while some believed in God, some may have believed Moshe was a god! Their “knowing” God is suspect. 

Egypt, on the other hand, was facing their demise. When you see one group go through the impossible, then you try to follow suit and somehow the situation that held water no longer does, you “know” this is coming from a higher power. 

How many people, at the very end of their lives, “know” they are about to meet their maker? There is a moment of clarity which dawns on the best of us, when we no longer believe in God, but we know He is there. 

But for the rest of us, perhaps there is a little thought, like Nathan Jessup said, “In a place we don’t talk about at parties,” where there is a smidgen of doubt. I don’t know for sure, but I believe. Because I can’t see! How could I know what I can’t see? I can only believe. 

Many of the commentaries note that the language of the verse switches from singular to plural. “Reeh- you the individual needs to see,” that “I am placing before you the collective, the blessing and the curse.” 

Perhaps Re’eh is a call to every individual, as opposed to the collective, united as one. You the individual can see and know if you only open your eyes. But your belief as a collective will remain belief because there is always a skeptic, unless it’s the end of life, and together we know – like Egypt knew at the sea – that we are going to meet our maker. 

In Shmot 29, the Israelites’ knowing of God is a recounting of something that should have happened, but didn’t. Had the people all looked and seen the cloud, and put two and two together, they’d have known Who God was. 

With all the skeptics and cynics, the Jewish people as a collective whole have never achieved what Egypt achieved in that moment as the water came crashing down. 

Even when we see everything we’re supposed to see, the conclusions we come to as to what we KNOW is often misguided.

Individual Jews have come to know God personally. But what do they need to see in their lives to get there? Hopefully only blessing and goodness. But sometimes suffering and hardship. It’s a goal we should all have, to know God, and to Love Him intimately. 

Many of us believe in God. But belief, which requires a small leap of faith, doesn’t come from what you see. It comes from what you don’t see. When you don’t know, you can still hang onto belief. Was that injury, accident, financial loss, illness, healing, coincidence, finance deal, God’s way of sending us little messages? I believe so. But I don’t know. 

With Elul upon us, of course we need to work on our relationship with God. But more importantly, in many cases, we need to work on our relationship with our fellow man. 

If we can only see what our task at hand is, when we do our part, we can be confident, hopefully knowing that God is here, that our relationship with Him is strong; and as He sees that we look out for our family, as well as the destitute, we will have the confidence of blessing for the coming year.

Appreciating The Greatest Gifts of All

Parshat Eikev

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Read through Siman 312 in the Shulchan Arukh and you will likely come to the conclusion that the greatest invention of all time is not the telephone, is not the Internet, and isn’t even sliced bread. The section speaks of challenges for those who need to use the restroom on Shabbos, and how they go about cleaning themselves.

Since the advent of toilet paper (greatest invention), we who live in first world countries, thank God, will find the entire discussion irrelevant to our experience.

But learning these kinds of things should serve as a reminder of how lucky we are to have the privileges and, dare I say it, pleasures, of modern living.

The perspective on gifts handed to us (such as modern medicine!) requires an element of gratitude that is too often overlooked. In our parsha, R’ Yosef Bchor Shor has a comment worthy of attention because of the surprising gratitude it expresses.

Moshe spends a lot of time in our parsha, giving history lessons. He is telling the 2nd generation about what their parents did wrong at the time of the Exodus. Not everything was bad, by the way, but certainly the Golden Calf was a negative story.

Part of the Golden Calf story focuses on the Luchot – the two tablets that Moshe was first given, which he smashed, and then the other set which he brought down at the end of his 3rd trip down from the mountain.

In chapter 10 verse 10, Moshe recounts how “I stood on the mountain for 40 days to get the 2nd set of Luchot.” And R Yosef Bchor Shor expands on this saying Moshe was also praying for forgiveness for the people for the sin of the Golden Calf.

Simple timeline of events. 6/7 Sivan – Torah given. 17 Tammuz – Golden Calf and breaking of tablets. After dealing with business down below, 3 days later (20 Tammuz) Moshe goes up the mountain for 40 days, coming down on the 30th of Av. Next day (1 Elul) he goes up again for 40 days, coming down with the second tablets on… Yom Kippur, the tenth of Tishrei.

Rav Yosef Bchor Shor essentially calls Yom Kippur a GIFT to the Jewish people! “God listened to me, and He forgave the people completely. He brought the 2nd tablets and news of the forgiveness on Yom Kippur. That day was established as a day of forgiving and excusing (misdeeds).”

I don’t know how many people view Yom Kippur as a gift. But that is what it is. A yearly retrospect. A yearly opportunity to clear the air with our Creator. And, if we use it correctly, with our fellow man. And what an opportunity it is!

One of the big turnoffs from religion in our time is the seemingly endless sets of rules about everything. As Tevye says in Fiddler on the Roof, “we have rules for everything, how to eat, how to sleep, how to work, even how to wear clothes…”

But we know it’s more than that. We get into detail about whether we can trigger a sensor on Shabbos. Whether accidentally using a meat knife to smear butter makes our whole kitchen treif. Whether if someone looks the wrong way on Shabbos if their kashrus is acceptable to us. Whether an invisible bug makes all New York City water undrinkable. Whether a bird that looks like a chicken, sounds like a chicken, acts like a chicken and smells like a chicken, and is even called a chicken, whether it really IS a chicken.

Tevye doesn’t know how this Tradition got started, because Tevye’s lines are not written by a traditional Jew.

But we know. It’s called Sinai. And Sinai means Revelation. And Revelation means the Torah. And the Torah means Luchot and everything that came with them. Yes. We do have rules for everything - or almost everything.

And what happens if we don’t do everything right? Depending on what it is, we view ourselves in violation of a mitzvah or a halakha. Sometimes it’s between us and God, and sometimes we’ve thrown a monkey wrench into our relationship with our fellow man. 

How do we mend these relationships – because it’s sometimes very hard to own up to our mistakes? Sometimes we say “Ah forget it. That person’s not worth my time anyway.”

Comes Yom Kippur and God says, “You’re worth MY time. And you better believe your relationship with your fellow man is worth your time.”

And how do we know that people believe this, in their heart of hearts? Because what day in the year has the highest attendance collectively at shuls around the world? I know of a Conservative Synagogue in Texas which rents a sports arena for Yom Kippur because they get thousands of people.

We can argue that they come for Yizkor. But many come for Kol Nidrei, when there is no Yizkor. So why are they coming? Because it’s a Day of Atonement. A day of forgiveness. A day of building bridges, of knocking down walls, of reconnecting with God and with our fellow man.

And the time to see this gift of Yom Kippur as a time for breaking down barriers and reconnecting with people is now! Like the blessing of medical care and hygiene, there is no time better than the present to get our Teshuvah in order, and our plans for maxing out on our yearly atonement gift.

Let us not wait until Elul! Let us apologize, seek to make amends, try to move on. Let bygones be bygones. Talk civilly with someone to get through issues. But don’t get hungup. In most cases, it’s not worth it. Or there was a misunderstanding, which led to what shouldn’t be an irreconcilable rift.

We have an opportunity in these six remaining weeks before Rosh Hashana, and an additional week until Yom Kippur, to embrace this gift of Yom Kippur. But we can only cash in on the gift if we prepare. And the way we begin is through humbly apologizing or graciously accepting the olive branch that is bravely tossed in our direction by someone who once again wants to be a friend.