Parshat Chayei Sarah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Sarah dies. Avraham approaches the local Hittites and asks to speak to Ephron ben Tzochar.
23:9 – that he should give to me the Machpela cave at the edge of his field, for its full price, [to be used as] a burial plot.
Ephron responds.
23:11 – I’ll give it you for free! In front of everyone! It’s yours! Bury your dead!
Avraham is appreciative. However
23:13 – I’m giving you the money. Take it from me. Then I will bury my dead.
Ephron thinks it over:
23:15 – Alright. A land of 400 silver shekels – between us friends, not such a big deal, right? – and then you can bury your dead.
The following verse should say that Avraham paid the money and buried his dead. After all, those two points were raised in every verse up until now: Payment and burial.
But the Torah takes 3 verses to describe the giving over of the money and the fact that the land, the field, the cave have all been transferred to Avraham’s ownership. The Torah goes into much detail about how to identify this space, presumably to make clear that this was a big purchase, made by Avraham for his family to have an eternal burial spot. This was a purchase and transfer of property for all time.
After the purchase is made and the property transferred, in a manner that is clear and that everyone understands, then, and only then, does Avraham bury his wife. And, when he buries her, the Torah again gives geographical markers to let us know where this is taking place, “Near Mamre, which is Hevron, in the land of Canaan.”
There are many attitudes ascribed to Ephron, mostly negative, in his turning from “free” to an exorbitant sum, in his wheeler dealer negotiations, in his offering much but giving little, in his greediness, or in his faux friendship.
But I think there’s a much simpler lesson that comes out in light of the tragic events that emerged last Shabbos in a synagogue in Pittsburgh, PA.
The Ephrons of the world are very happy to give away free land to dead Jews. It’s a very small price to pay for a particularly heinous and dastardly goal. Ephron’s hesitation at selling land to Avraham meant that he’d be giving Avraham a place to call his own, one that he and his descendants could point to and see, “We own it because we paid for it. It is ours.”
And that is why the Torah doesn’t just describe a small burial cave as the purchase, but a field and a cave and all the trees around it, around the complete border of the property – all of it now belonged to Avraham.
A friend of mine, who is involved in education in NYC, shared this story from his Monday morning commute. “Just took the crosstown bus and a ‘nice older white gentleman’ sits next to me and is reading the paper. I tell him that I am getting off at the next stop and he nods. As I get up to pass him, he says, ‘That synagogue deserved to get shot up... have a wonderful day.’”
I know and recognize that an individual bigot and racist is not necessarily endemic or exemplar of an entire society. Most people who saw what happened were horrified and condemned the act of violence. Some used it to score political points, some used it to talk about gun-control.
But the fact is that the shooter wasn’t just a crazed loon who wanted to kill people. He shouted “All Jews must die!” And he walked into a synagogue to perpetrate his evil actions. There is nothing more anti-Semitic than that, especially when attached to an active firearm.
And the fact that some random gross person will cowardly articulate that to my friend as he’s getting off the bus and has no chance to respond, goes to show how evil-in-the-mind some seemingly normal people might be.
And as much as we enjoy life in the land of the free and the home of the brave, the fact is that Jew-hatred is all around us. The ADL’s count of incidents of anti-Semitic attacks rises every year. The anti-Israel movement in academia and on college-campuses and beyond would make no sense and would not happen if Israel were not a Jewish country. Owing to the reality of the state being Jewish it still makes no sense, but it happens because many people have an unexplainable Jew-button in their mind that makes them become completely irrational when it comes to Jewish people, Jewish institutions, Jewish activities, and a Jewish state.
Last week a well-known media personality, Mika Brzezinski, reacted to Ivanka Trump’s celebrating her 9th anniversary on Twitter, which included pictures with her husband Jared wearing a kippah, writing “We don’t want to see that today. Or any day… this is icky.” Most normal people responded to her saying something to the effect of even if you don’t like Trump & Kushner, their celebration of their marriage is acceptable and admirable! She eventually deleted her “tweet,” but screenshots last forever.
A friend of mine noted, from personal experience, that Mika has a strange reaction to kippahs. Considering the house in which she was raised, I wonder why.
But that’s just a small snapshot of a much larger issue. If this country is tolerant – and I believe institutionally it is, and that most people don’t care enough to hate Jews – then the Ephrons of the world need to be outshouted and overpowered by those who believe Jews are allowed to live and thrive.
It would be naïve to suggest all ideological differences between Jews will disappear. Some will never go away. But the blame-game for evil acts goes squarely on those who commit evil acts, or when it comes to Jews, who dehumanize Jews. Which is why even some Jews in the media who throw the blame for this particular evil act on a mainstream American political party or the President are absolutely in the wrong. (Honestly, one side embraces more anti-Semites, but I’m not allotting space for that much larger discussion.)
Ephron’s attitude is like that of the anti-Semites who followed him in history, that “the only good Jew is a dead Jew.”
Anyone who rejects that statement, as all good people should, must take a strong stand that anti-Semitism has no place in the modern world.
May God eradicate evil from the face of the earth. And may the Pittsburgh Jewish community feel the love being sent to them from around the world, and with God’s help, may they eventually find healing.
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
Monday, October 29, 2018
Akedah Redux
Parshat Vayera
by Rabbi Avi Billet
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the most enduring challenges in the Binding of Isaac story (hereafter “the Akedah”) is that as much as we explore it, the more we see we don’t understand it.
Which is why the challenge to understand the narrative, the episode, the exchange, the commitment, the relationships become ever more glaring the more we try to unravel what is taking place.
A number of years ago I had a discussion with a fellow educator about this. He was thoroughly convinced that his “approach” to understanding the Akedah was “correct,” while he evaded every question I sent his way, unsatisfactorily resolving the ones he took on, while sidestepping the questions that didn’t jibe with his personal narrative of what the Akedah “means.”
One thing that emerged for me from that conversation, and is very clear to me now is that God never intended for Yitzchak to die on the mountain. (as stated in the Talmud Taanit 4a)
I am also pretty confident that Avraham was meant to take Yitzchak to this particular place to give Yitzchak his own “Lekh Lekha experience” (compare 12:1 to 22:2), so Yitzchak could have a similar kind of training to that of his father, especially since Yitzchak had no reason to abandon his father’s household in order to find God, as did his father before him.
I am also mostly convinced that when Avraham is told “Ha’alayhu sham l’olah” (22:2) (“raise him up there to an olah”), that Yitzchak is meant to go up a mountain to experience an olah (burnt offering), and not to himself “be” the olah. In fact, when we compare the way the Torah describes Yitzchak being placed on the altar (22:9) to the way the ram is ultimately placed on the altar (22:13), the Torah’s language makes it clear that when the ram is placed, Avraham fulfills the commandment given to him: “Va’yalayhu l’olah.”
There are many words utilized in the Torah’s narrative which are unclear, confusing, strange. None of them can be ignored, and each one must have a good answer for why it is used. Two of these words are “Ma’achelet” – a very strange word for what seems to be the knife-for-slaughter; and “achar” – the position where Avraham notices the ram. (I don’t have the space to address these here).
I am also not convinced that the word “Nissah” (22:1) – which many translate to mean “tested” – indicates a test at all. In other places in the Torah the word “Nes” can be more accurately defined as a banner. Ibn Ezra essentially argues that “Nissah” means Avraham was being raised above all. God was “showing his [Avraham’s] righteousness to other humans.”
Radak even notes that this is the strangest of “tests” because no one was on the mountain with them to see it! And so, he argues, the whole episode is meant to show Avraham’s love for the Almighty. God tells him to jump, he jumps.
But what of the view that the grammar is wrong? The format of “Nissah” isn’t about how God is about to do anything to Avraham (whether “test” or “raised him up”)! It is a confirmation of what has already been proven! (see Malbim and Ha’Ktav v’Hakabbalah)
Rabbenu Bachaye notes that the purpose of the Akedah was to publicize to the nations Avraham’s greatness in Awe/Reverence/Fear of God (Yirah), and in his love (Ahavah) of God. Love, Rabbenu Bachaye explains, is demonstrated in 3 ways:
1. A person loves his king and goes about demonstrating this through singing the praises of his king. But he will not spend any money to demonstrate this love.2. A person who loves the king even more, will give everything he has for his king, except that he is not willing to give up his life for his king.3. A person who sings in praise of his king, is willing to give everything he has for his king, and is willing to give up his life for his king.
Rabbenu Bachaye argues that Avraham had already achieved this highest level. But now, in his being asked to kill Yitzchak, he was asked to prove his love even more.
That approach might work if Avraham had been asked to kill Yitzchak. But Rashi is the first to note that God only told Avraham “Ha’alayhu” – lift him up, and God never said “u'sh'cha’tayhu” – to slaughter him.
So what is the purpose? I think what Rabbenu Bachaye leaves out of his explanation opens the door for the approach employed by the Sfas Emes (Gerrer Rebbe) in trying to uncover what the purpose of Avraham’s mission was.
In his Drasha of 5641 (1880), he makes the following observation. At what point is the mission deemed to be a success? The second time Avraham declares “Hineni” – I am here ready to do your bidding. (He also said it to Yitzchak as well when he said “I am here, my son,” but he only says the single word “Hineni” to God and to the angel.)
The angel which stops him first calls “Avraham Avraham,” he responds with “Hineni” and then he is told, “Don’t send your hand to the young man, don’t do a thing to him, for now I know/ now I have known/ now I have come to know that you are God-fearing…”
This, the Sfas Emes explains, was the test. We all know Avraham loved God. Avraham is the only person in the Bible described as “My beloved” by God (Yeshayahu 41:8). When God tells him to do anything, he jumps to do it without questioning.
But everything that Avraham has done until now entailed demonstrating love for God. In contrast, this episode was meant to demonstrate Avraham’s reverence of God. On the one hand, as the Sfas Emes explains, to demonstrate that Avraham was prepared to slaughter his son – recognizing that this kind of request could only come from the highest place of serving God, simply because it challenges his love of God! How could you ask me to kill my son when you told me my whole future is in my son?
Sfas Emes says Avraham proves his reverence of God through not doing anything to Yitzchak, because he was ready to do what he had been asked.
There is another view, however that it was more difficult for Avraham to take Yitzchak down from the altar, when the passion of his fulfilling God’s will had almost overtaken him.
And I think that in staying his hand, Avraham demonstrated the highest level of both love of God and reverence, all at the same time.
If there is any take home message we can emerge with, it is that our charge is to love God and to fear/revere/be in awe of God at all times. And if we can only serve Him through those lenses, we would also be worthy of being called the children of Avraham.
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
Avraham in Canaan and Egypt, and LOTs of Questions
Parshat Lekh Lekha
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the early tales of the story of our forefather Avraham is that after his arrival in Canaan, when faced with famine, he decided to descend to Egypt to find food.
That this set the stage for another descent that would take place 210-215 years later (they went to Egypt 215 years after Avraham was 75) when his grandson Yaakov would bring his entire family to Egypt on account of a famine in Canaan, beginning what would be become a 210 year period of exile, should be clear, based on the principle of “maaseh avot siman labanim” (“what happened to the fathers is a sign for the children”) of what will happen to them.
Avraham’s descent to Egypt is marred by a few questions:
1. Should he have gone? Where is his faith that the famine will not cause his death?
2. If he should not have gone, was he punished by God for going?
3. Should he have brought Sarai? Perhaps bringing his wife to this situation is a poor choice!
4. What did he mean when he said “now [that] I know [because/since] you are a beautiful woman” – and what gave him the right to lie to the Egyptians?
5. Where is his nephew Lot while he and his wife are contending with Pharaoh’s court?
Ramban is of the opinion that Avraham’s going to Egypt is what led to the “punishment” of his children being “strangers in a strange land” in Egypt, because he demonstrated a lack of faith that Canaan would sustain him.
Of course, Abravanel and others are of the view that the descent to Egypt in Yaakov’s time was for other reasons. Haktav V’hakabbalah thoroughly rejects the idea that Avraham did anything wrong in this story. He was supposed to go to Egypt, for a number of reasons. But even moreso, his treatment of Sarai, and his declaration to her about her beauty was more “because you are beautiful, when we get to Egypt they’re going to take you” than “how can I hide you and protect myself?” He knew that as her “brother” he could work to get her out of Pharaoh’s clutches, while as her “husband” he’d be dead on arrival.
Haktav V’hakabbalah suggests that Avraham and Sarai, as descendants of Noach, opted to behave as Noachides in their descent to Egypt, making their marriage ipso facto over should it come to pass that an Egyptian would take her. Therefore there was no lying.
As to why he brought her in the first place – we could question Avraham’s motivation. Our Sages teach us that Avraham’s descent to Egypt was one of his ten tests from the Almighty, during which his wife was in peril. Rabbi Yaakov Medan (Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshivat Har Etzion) argues that had she stayed in Canaan she’d have been no better off, as we see from the Avimelekh story later on. It doesn’t mean Avraham’s actions here were perfect, but it’s hard to know what the right thing to do is. Avraham’s strategy certainly put Sarai in danger, but her beauty was her strike against herself anyway!
Which brings us to nephew Lot. According to Haktav V’hakabbalah, Lot was present the entire time, he knew Avraham and Sarai’s plot to deceive the Egyptians in order to spare Avraham’s life, and yet he said nothing - essentially protecting their secrets. This helped Lot merit to get wealth – indeed, upon their return to Canaan, both Lot and Avraham were quite wealthy.
Rav Medan argues that the descent to Egypt had a few purposes. One purpose was to bring Hagar into the picture – she was an Egyptian maid who was presumably picked up when they were there. Hagar’s role in the story of Avraham and Sarai is not to be ignored. At the very least, she was destined to birth Avraham's son Yishmael, who was to become a great nation.
More than that, Rav Medan suggests that Lot came down to Egypt to learn what a fertile land looks like. As a matter of fact, when it became clear that he and Avraham needed to part ways, he turned to Sodom because Sodom was “like Egypt.” (13:10)
Which suggests that the famine leading Avraham to Egypt actually served a different purpose. Not as much to test Avraham’s mettle and his belief in God, but to set the stage for a parting-of-ways with Lot. Avraham had a filial responsibility to his nephew, which was only broken either when the famine did not allow him to sustain his nephew, or their expanded wealth necessitated a natural parting of ways.
Lot may have been Avraham’s nephew, and Avraham may have loved him. But the fact is that while Lot was present, Avraham did not have the kind of prophesy he only experienced after Lot had moved on (see 13:14 and Rashi there). Lot was holding Avraham back from achieving his potential.
It’s hard to envy Avraham’s ordeals, the trials, the tests. But a relook at what we’ve studied for years or decades can always bring new ideas, and give us a better understanding of the human side of the forefathers, even as we notice their spiritual struggle.
The main takeaway lessons I have from this story is that life’s journeys may take us to all kinds of places. If we don’t see God’s providence in having brought us there, we’re simply missing the most important connections to the divine that we might experience in our lives.
More importantly, however, we must be cognizant of the company we keep. We can’t choose our neighbors. But we can choose which people we want to hang around. Those who are an inspiration to us, because they are honest, mentschlich, they pray with sincerity, they study Torah, they model the life of a committed Jew (while humbly knowing they are far from perfect) are the people we should want to be around.
Those who don’t carry themselves this way are the Lots we must deal with. And the best way to deal with Lot is communicate – “It’s up to you. You can stay here and I’ll go away, or you go and I’ll stay here. Because our occupying the same space is only bringing me down. And my purpose in life is to climb and reach ever higher. Every single day.”
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the early tales of the story of our forefather Avraham is that after his arrival in Canaan, when faced with famine, he decided to descend to Egypt to find food.
That this set the stage for another descent that would take place 210-215 years later (they went to Egypt 215 years after Avraham was 75) when his grandson Yaakov would bring his entire family to Egypt on account of a famine in Canaan, beginning what would be become a 210 year period of exile, should be clear, based on the principle of “maaseh avot siman labanim” (“what happened to the fathers is a sign for the children”) of what will happen to them.
Avraham’s descent to Egypt is marred by a few questions:
1. Should he have gone? Where is his faith that the famine will not cause his death?
2. If he should not have gone, was he punished by God for going?
3. Should he have brought Sarai? Perhaps bringing his wife to this situation is a poor choice!
4. What did he mean when he said “now [that] I know [because/since] you are a beautiful woman” – and what gave him the right to lie to the Egyptians?
5. Where is his nephew Lot while he and his wife are contending with Pharaoh’s court?
Ramban is of the opinion that Avraham’s going to Egypt is what led to the “punishment” of his children being “strangers in a strange land” in Egypt, because he demonstrated a lack of faith that Canaan would sustain him.
Of course, Abravanel and others are of the view that the descent to Egypt in Yaakov’s time was for other reasons. Haktav V’hakabbalah thoroughly rejects the idea that Avraham did anything wrong in this story. He was supposed to go to Egypt, for a number of reasons. But even moreso, his treatment of Sarai, and his declaration to her about her beauty was more “because you are beautiful, when we get to Egypt they’re going to take you” than “how can I hide you and protect myself?” He knew that as her “brother” he could work to get her out of Pharaoh’s clutches, while as her “husband” he’d be dead on arrival.
Haktav V’hakabbalah suggests that Avraham and Sarai, as descendants of Noach, opted to behave as Noachides in their descent to Egypt, making their marriage ipso facto over should it come to pass that an Egyptian would take her. Therefore there was no lying.
As to why he brought her in the first place – we could question Avraham’s motivation. Our Sages teach us that Avraham’s descent to Egypt was one of his ten tests from the Almighty, during which his wife was in peril. Rabbi Yaakov Medan (Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshivat Har Etzion) argues that had she stayed in Canaan she’d have been no better off, as we see from the Avimelekh story later on. It doesn’t mean Avraham’s actions here were perfect, but it’s hard to know what the right thing to do is. Avraham’s strategy certainly put Sarai in danger, but her beauty was her strike against herself anyway!
Which brings us to nephew Lot. According to Haktav V’hakabbalah, Lot was present the entire time, he knew Avraham and Sarai’s plot to deceive the Egyptians in order to spare Avraham’s life, and yet he said nothing - essentially protecting their secrets. This helped Lot merit to get wealth – indeed, upon their return to Canaan, both Lot and Avraham were quite wealthy.
Rav Medan argues that the descent to Egypt had a few purposes. One purpose was to bring Hagar into the picture – she was an Egyptian maid who was presumably picked up when they were there. Hagar’s role in the story of Avraham and Sarai is not to be ignored. At the very least, she was destined to birth Avraham's son Yishmael, who was to become a great nation.
More than that, Rav Medan suggests that Lot came down to Egypt to learn what a fertile land looks like. As a matter of fact, when it became clear that he and Avraham needed to part ways, he turned to Sodom because Sodom was “like Egypt.” (13:10)
Which suggests that the famine leading Avraham to Egypt actually served a different purpose. Not as much to test Avraham’s mettle and his belief in God, but to set the stage for a parting-of-ways with Lot. Avraham had a filial responsibility to his nephew, which was only broken either when the famine did not allow him to sustain his nephew, or their expanded wealth necessitated a natural parting of ways.
Lot may have been Avraham’s nephew, and Avraham may have loved him. But the fact is that while Lot was present, Avraham did not have the kind of prophesy he only experienced after Lot had moved on (see 13:14 and Rashi there). Lot was holding Avraham back from achieving his potential.
It’s hard to envy Avraham’s ordeals, the trials, the tests. But a relook at what we’ve studied for years or decades can always bring new ideas, and give us a better understanding of the human side of the forefathers, even as we notice their spiritual struggle.
The main takeaway lessons I have from this story is that life’s journeys may take us to all kinds of places. If we don’t see God’s providence in having brought us there, we’re simply missing the most important connections to the divine that we might experience in our lives.
More importantly, however, we must be cognizant of the company we keep. We can’t choose our neighbors. But we can choose which people we want to hang around. Those who are an inspiration to us, because they are honest, mentschlich, they pray with sincerity, they study Torah, they model the life of a committed Jew (while humbly knowing they are far from perfect) are the people we should want to be around.
Those who don’t carry themselves this way are the Lots we must deal with. And the best way to deal with Lot is communicate – “It’s up to you. You can stay here and I’ll go away, or you go and I’ll stay here. Because our occupying the same space is only bringing me down. And my purpose in life is to climb and reach ever higher. Every single day.”
Friday, October 12, 2018
When the Torah Approves Capital Punishment - For Murderers
Parshat Noach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Another terror attack in Israel this past Sunday morning. This time not “random.” This time an Arab co-worker, who knew his victims, tied them up and assassinated them. Does it get more evil than this? As a friend of mine put it (not in defense of terrorists), the terrorist kills for an idea, not targeting a specific victim. But this monster assassinated a young mother and a young father (of different families), knowing their family situations. Why? Because they were Jews.
In its history, the State of Israel has executed two people. The first – a Jew in the Independence War – was later exonerated. The second was Adolf Eichmann. Israeli law allows for the death penalty for “war crimes, crimes against humanity, crimes against the Jewish people, treason and certain crimes under military law during wartime,” which, when put into practical terms, means they only intend to use it against Nazis.
Terrorism can certainly be qualified as a crime against the Jewish people, but the Israeli electorate is split on the matter. Especially since, sadly, there are sometimes Jews (albeit extremely rarely, and condemned by the whole of Israeli society) who commit similar crimes. And if the law is to be applied equally, well then, there you have the issue.
The Torah has two views of the matter: One is human law, as applied to Noachides (all of humanity), and one as applied to Jews, which is defined by halakha – Jewish Law, as explained in the Oral Law and various Law Codes.
For the most part, Halakha dictates that a Jewish (Rabbinical) court should not be in the capital punishment business. These punishments are to be left in God’s hands.
But, Eichmann? Ah, yes. The indication is that Israeli law doesn’t necessarily follow halakha.
Which brings us to Noachide law, and the tale in our Torah portion. 'Only of the blood of your own lives will I demand an account. I will demand [such] an account from the hand of every wild beast. From the hand of man - [even] from the hand of a man's own brother - I will demand an account of [every] human life. He who spills human blood shall have his own blood spilled by man (Alternatively: One who spills the blood of a human that is within a human shall have his own blood be spilled), for God made man with His own image. 'Now be fruitful and multiply, swarm all over the earth and become populous on it.' (9:5-7)
In simple terms, a person who kills another person has diminished his own “Tzelem Elokim” (being in the image of God) to nothing through destroying (through murder) someone else’s “Tzelem Elokim.”
Pesikta, Targum Yonatan, Rashi, B’khor Shor, and others note that the death penalty can only be put into play if there are witnesses, and a trial before judges (some even require the witnesses to have warned the person).
Ibn Ezra declares there is a mitzvah to put to death one who murders someone else in public.
For our purposes, however, I think Rabbi David Kimchi’s (Radak) comment is most instructive.
The Talmud says in Sanhedrin (56) that all death penalties for Noachides is beheading. Which leads to the question: Does video camera evidence count as witnesses? And will Israel ever be able to rid itself of the cancer that is the terrorist culture and society that celebrates these heinous acts of barbarism with smiles and the sharing of candy on the street?
A few years ago I read an article in National Review by Kevin D Williamson (“Why the Left Hates Jews” 4/29/16) which had a line I can really relate to.
In nicer terminology. Rabbenu Bachaye says in Parshat Re’eh that capital punishment is merciful: to the rest of society that never have to worry that this murderer will ever be free to murder again.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Another terror attack in Israel this past Sunday morning. This time not “random.” This time an Arab co-worker, who knew his victims, tied them up and assassinated them. Does it get more evil than this? As a friend of mine put it (not in defense of terrorists), the terrorist kills for an idea, not targeting a specific victim. But this monster assassinated a young mother and a young father (of different families), knowing their family situations. Why? Because they were Jews.
In its history, the State of Israel has executed two people. The first – a Jew in the Independence War – was later exonerated. The second was Adolf Eichmann. Israeli law allows for the death penalty for “war crimes, crimes against humanity, crimes against the Jewish people, treason and certain crimes under military law during wartime,” which, when put into practical terms, means they only intend to use it against Nazis.
Terrorism can certainly be qualified as a crime against the Jewish people, but the Israeli electorate is split on the matter. Especially since, sadly, there are sometimes Jews (albeit extremely rarely, and condemned by the whole of Israeli society) who commit similar crimes. And if the law is to be applied equally, well then, there you have the issue.
The Torah has two views of the matter: One is human law, as applied to Noachides (all of humanity), and one as applied to Jews, which is defined by halakha – Jewish Law, as explained in the Oral Law and various Law Codes.
For the most part, Halakha dictates that a Jewish (Rabbinical) court should not be in the capital punishment business. These punishments are to be left in God’s hands.
But, Eichmann? Ah, yes. The indication is that Israeli law doesn’t necessarily follow halakha.
Which brings us to Noachide law, and the tale in our Torah portion. 'Only of the blood of your own lives will I demand an account. I will demand [such] an account from the hand of every wild beast. From the hand of man - [even] from the hand of a man's own brother - I will demand an account of [every] human life. He who spills human blood shall have his own blood spilled by man (Alternatively: One who spills the blood of a human that is within a human shall have his own blood be spilled), for God made man with His own image. 'Now be fruitful and multiply, swarm all over the earth and become populous on it.' (9:5-7)
In simple terms, a person who kills another person has diminished his own “Tzelem Elokim” (being in the image of God) to nothing through destroying (through murder) someone else’s “Tzelem Elokim.”
Pesikta, Targum Yonatan, Rashi, B’khor Shor, and others note that the death penalty can only be put into play if there are witnesses, and a trial before judges (some even require the witnesses to have warned the person).
Ibn Ezra declares there is a mitzvah to put to death one who murders someone else in public.
For our purposes, however, I think Rabbi David Kimchi’s (Radak) comment is most instructive.
If there are witnesses, it is the job of the judges to execute the murderer.
Humans having been created in the image of God, are the pinnacle (most honored) of Creation, God having given humans “seichel” (supreme intelligence and common sense). This is why all creatures are to revere/fear the humans. And humans should not destroy the body and “image” (reflective of God) of another. [A murderer] goes against GOD, to destroy His works. Humans were not even allowed to kill any animals until Noach was given permission! Even plant life was unavailable to humans until God allowed it. And God also commanded that murderers are to be put to death – this is only for those who are deserving of death based on their sin. The murderer has destroyed his own Tzelem Elokim through violating the commandment of God. There is no [longer a] Tzelem Elokim, and no “seichel” in one who [murders]. “Seichel” dictates to the servant to follow his Master’s commandments. Seichel should also prevent him from sinning in this manner, especially was his Master has specifically commanded not to kill.”
The Talmud says in Sanhedrin (56) that all death penalties for Noachides is beheading. Which leads to the question: Does video camera evidence count as witnesses? And will Israel ever be able to rid itself of the cancer that is the terrorist culture and society that celebrates these heinous acts of barbarism with smiles and the sharing of candy on the street?
A few years ago I read an article in National Review by Kevin D Williamson (“Why the Left Hates Jews” 4/29/16) which had a line I can really relate to.
“The Arab–Israeli conflict is a bitter and ugly one. My own view of it is that the Palestinian Arabs have some legitimate grievances, and that I stopped caring about them when they started blowing up children in pizza shops. You can thank the courageous heroes of the Battle of Sbarro for that. Israel isn’t my country, but it is my country’s ally, and it is impossible for a liberty-loving American to fail to admire what the Jewish state has done.
And that, of course, is why the Left wants to see the Jewish state exterminated.”While I won’t get into Left v Right, I think that the idea of wanting to exterminate (or eliminate, if one prefers a less violent word) the Jewish State is not only immoral. It is evil. And as that is what terrorists want, they are by definition evil. And the only way to defeat evil is to wipe it off the face of the earth.
In nicer terminology. Rabbenu Bachaye says in Parshat Re’eh that capital punishment is merciful: to the rest of society that never have to worry that this murderer will ever be free to murder again.
Friday, October 5, 2018
3 Ingredients to A Successful Jewish Life
Parshat Bereshit
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Jewish people who have traversed through the Orthodox experience may have followed any number of paths. The most common are those who were born into Orthodoxy and never left, those who became inspired to commit to an Orthodox lifestyle and have only strengthened their commitment over time, those who converted to Judaism and have similarly strengthened their commitment over time, those who left Orthodoxy (whether Hassidic – which garners the most media attention, or anywhere else in the spectrum of Orthodoxy), or those whose spiritual awakening waned over time.
There is a wonderful example from the parsha for why there might be downturn in commitment, and how, with proper preparation, people can stay committed and even grow in their religious experience.
One rule was given to the original human occupant(s) of the Garden of Eden. “God commanded the human saying, ‘You will eat of all the trees of the garden. And you will not eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, for on the day you eat from it, you will become mortal (literally: will die).’” I translate “will become mortal” because after eating from the tree, Adam lives close to 1000 years.
In summary. The whole garden is accessible, except for one specific, named tree.
And yet, when the serpent approaches Chava, after goading her suggesting God said you can’t eat from the trees of the garden, she responds saying “We may eat of the fruits of the garden. However, of the fruit tree in the garden, God said don’t eat from it and don’t touch it – lest you die.”
This is clearly not an accurate reflection of what Adam had been told. Chava changes a few important details. 1. She implies that they may only eat from some trees. 2. When she mentions how God “said” what we can’t eat, she opened the door to the idea that eating from the tree is not a big deal, as the mere notion of “saying something” isn’t binding (God had actually commanded!). 3. In not mentioning the reason for the prohibition in eating from the tree (loss of innocence, and the depth of good v evil), her sense seemed to suggest that the tree was dangerous/poisonous, and therefore forbidden to touch.
Defining reasons for commandments is a risky business. Once the reason becomes irrelevant, you’re one step away from declaring a commandment irrelevant. The only reason for every mitzvah is precisely because it is commanded by God. And we follow orders.
But the real take home lesson comes from how Chava became a super-frummy about the tree-rules in the very short lifespan she had before eating the forbidden fruit.
Imagine if Chava had said to the snake – “I can eat from every tree. I can’t eat from one tree. Big deal – I don’t need it anyway. I don’t care for what you say I’m missing” – the history of the world might look very very different.
Instead she starting making yeshiva-style analogies. I can’t eat this one, but maybe God didn’t just mean this one… He meant the trees around it. So if I can’t eat, I won’t even touch it! How quickly did she go from seeing that she could touch it to eating it? About five seconds, thanks to the serpent.
How do we go from taking on too much, adding too much, and getting off that high to losing everything roller coaster?
I think there are 3 components to the solution.
The first is KNOWLEDGE.
People drawn to a life of Judaism, frumkeit, people who are sold on the idea that a “Torah life is the only authentic life” can’t stop there. Because going through motions without knowledge, or when that inspirational figure is no longer nearby, can get old and stale quickly. And even if a person can maintain the life, not having the knowledge to back up the practice and the life choices, makes for too many challenges when questions come along.
I know a man who is heavily involved in learning – he studies, he gives classes, some of his kids went through the Aish system and are even involved in kiruv. I won’t call him a person who has grown stale in his Jewish experience. He became inspired in his twenties and defines himself as a baal teshuva. He heard a talk I gave in which I presented this question to the crowd: “How long are you going to rely on your baal teshuvah-ness to justify where you are in your Jewish life.” He said to me afterwards, “You know, I haven’t thought about it. But I’ve been calling myself a baal teshuvah for 40 years. I have to stop making excuses for myself.”
The second ingredient for our solution is MODERATION.
It is never a good idea to jump full scale into a new way of life without proper preparation. Some people quit smoking cold turkey, and that is amazing. But most people who try to go through significant lifestyle changes know that baby steps of adjustment are much easier to maintain than huge leaps.
While there are many Jews who came to observance through the baal teshuvah movement or through conversion who are the envy of all of us due to their dedication, commitment and modeling everything we ought to admire about what it means to choose this way of life, there are also some who became baalei teshuvah or who converted, who years later are not where they were when that transition time took place. (These are facts. I am not judging anyone)
This is why the third ingredient to maintaining religiosity is CONSISTENCY.
Go to shul daily. Have an unbreakable prep-for-Shabbos routine. Learn some Torah every day.
Knowledge is empowering. It allows for moderation and the ability to be consistent to be in your own hands, at your own pace. It is also best when not demanded or monitored by a community or authority figure.
Our lives are imperfect. That is the human experience. But with knowledge, moderation, and consistency, we can set ourselves on a trajectory of constant growth.
Chava failed. She didn’t have the knowledge she needed, because she was just told something, and didn’t seek to understand better. She had one mitzvah and she made it much bigger than it was. No moderation. And there was no consistent behavior that could help her avoid being ensnared by the serpent.
Now that we have celebrated Simchas Torah, and have begun a new cycle with Bereishis, it is a wonderful opportunity to make a commitment to increasing our knowledge, leading to moderation in practice, and the consistency that help us grow in slow but manageable steps, so we never remain stagnant in our Jewish journey of life.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Jewish people who have traversed through the Orthodox experience may have followed any number of paths. The most common are those who were born into Orthodoxy and never left, those who became inspired to commit to an Orthodox lifestyle and have only strengthened their commitment over time, those who converted to Judaism and have similarly strengthened their commitment over time, those who left Orthodoxy (whether Hassidic – which garners the most media attention, or anywhere else in the spectrum of Orthodoxy), or those whose spiritual awakening waned over time.
There is a wonderful example from the parsha for why there might be downturn in commitment, and how, with proper preparation, people can stay committed and even grow in their religious experience.
One rule was given to the original human occupant(s) of the Garden of Eden. “God commanded the human saying, ‘You will eat of all the trees of the garden. And you will not eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, for on the day you eat from it, you will become mortal (literally: will die).’” I translate “will become mortal” because after eating from the tree, Adam lives close to 1000 years.
In summary. The whole garden is accessible, except for one specific, named tree.
And yet, when the serpent approaches Chava, after goading her suggesting God said you can’t eat from the trees of the garden, she responds saying “We may eat of the fruits of the garden. However, of the fruit tree in the garden, God said don’t eat from it and don’t touch it – lest you die.”
This is clearly not an accurate reflection of what Adam had been told. Chava changes a few important details. 1. She implies that they may only eat from some trees. 2. When she mentions how God “said” what we can’t eat, she opened the door to the idea that eating from the tree is not a big deal, as the mere notion of “saying something” isn’t binding (God had actually commanded!). 3. In not mentioning the reason for the prohibition in eating from the tree (loss of innocence, and the depth of good v evil), her sense seemed to suggest that the tree was dangerous/poisonous, and therefore forbidden to touch.
Defining reasons for commandments is a risky business. Once the reason becomes irrelevant, you’re one step away from declaring a commandment irrelevant. The only reason for every mitzvah is precisely because it is commanded by God. And we follow orders.
But the real take home lesson comes from how Chava became a super-frummy about the tree-rules in the very short lifespan she had before eating the forbidden fruit.
Imagine if Chava had said to the snake – “I can eat from every tree. I can’t eat from one tree. Big deal – I don’t need it anyway. I don’t care for what you say I’m missing” – the history of the world might look very very different.
Instead she starting making yeshiva-style analogies. I can’t eat this one, but maybe God didn’t just mean this one… He meant the trees around it. So if I can’t eat, I won’t even touch it! How quickly did she go from seeing that she could touch it to eating it? About five seconds, thanks to the serpent.
How do we go from taking on too much, adding too much, and getting off that high to losing everything roller coaster?
I think there are 3 components to the solution.
The first is KNOWLEDGE.
People drawn to a life of Judaism, frumkeit, people who are sold on the idea that a “Torah life is the only authentic life” can’t stop there. Because going through motions without knowledge, or when that inspirational figure is no longer nearby, can get old and stale quickly. And even if a person can maintain the life, not having the knowledge to back up the practice and the life choices, makes for too many challenges when questions come along.
I know a man who is heavily involved in learning – he studies, he gives classes, some of his kids went through the Aish system and are even involved in kiruv. I won’t call him a person who has grown stale in his Jewish experience. He became inspired in his twenties and defines himself as a baal teshuva. He heard a talk I gave in which I presented this question to the crowd: “How long are you going to rely on your baal teshuvah-ness to justify where you are in your Jewish life.” He said to me afterwards, “You know, I haven’t thought about it. But I’ve been calling myself a baal teshuvah for 40 years. I have to stop making excuses for myself.”
The second ingredient for our solution is MODERATION.
It is never a good idea to jump full scale into a new way of life without proper preparation. Some people quit smoking cold turkey, and that is amazing. But most people who try to go through significant lifestyle changes know that baby steps of adjustment are much easier to maintain than huge leaps.
While there are many Jews who came to observance through the baal teshuvah movement or through conversion who are the envy of all of us due to their dedication, commitment and modeling everything we ought to admire about what it means to choose this way of life, there are also some who became baalei teshuvah or who converted, who years later are not where they were when that transition time took place. (These are facts. I am not judging anyone)
This is why the third ingredient to maintaining religiosity is CONSISTENCY.
Go to shul daily. Have an unbreakable prep-for-Shabbos routine. Learn some Torah every day.
Knowledge is empowering. It allows for moderation and the ability to be consistent to be in your own hands, at your own pace. It is also best when not demanded or monitored by a community or authority figure.
Our lives are imperfect. That is the human experience. But with knowledge, moderation, and consistency, we can set ourselves on a trajectory of constant growth.
Chava failed. She didn’t have the knowledge she needed, because she was just told something, and didn’t seek to understand better. She had one mitzvah and she made it much bigger than it was. No moderation. And there was no consistent behavior that could help her avoid being ensnared by the serpent.
Now that we have celebrated Simchas Torah, and have begun a new cycle with Bereishis, it is a wonderful opportunity to make a commitment to increasing our knowledge, leading to moderation in practice, and the consistency that help us grow in slow but manageable steps, so we never remain stagnant in our Jewish journey of life.
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