The Ger and Me - Equals?

Parshat Shlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates Bamidbar 15:15-16 as follows: 

“Among the group that may marry one another, the same rule shall apply both to you and to the proselyte who joins. It is an eternal law for future generations that the proselyte shall be the same as you before God. There shall thus be one Torah and one law for you and for the proselyte who joins you.” 

This past Shabbos I was thinking about those who join the Jewish people, because one of the more heart-wrenching stories in Parshat B’haalotkha is the tale of Moshe and his father-in-law. 

In the Torah’s narrative, Moshe tries to convince his father-in-law to join the Israelites, to “be our eyes,” perhaps as a guide, or in some other role. And Yitro’s (as Chovav) response is “I would rather not go. I wish to return to my land and my birthplace.” (10:30) Moshe does try to make all kinds of promises, “If you go with us, we will share with you whatever good God grants us.” (10:32) What he chooses to do is left up to the reader to imagine. Some commentaries suggest that Yitro’s two appearances in the Torah took place in the same span of time, thus suggesting his exit at the end of Shmot 18 indicates that he did indeed return home. 

Why was he hesitant to join the Jewish people? Wasn’t he a righteous convert? 

The answer is that he did not see a future for himself in the land. Sure, he was sold on the idea of God. He was committed to being a monotheist. He may have even been committed to being a Jew. But as a righteous convert, he looked at the projected division of the land by tribe and thought, “Woops! There’s no place for me there!” 

So he said, “Look. I have a nice house. A nice farm. I have my family. I’ll happily go home and convert them to my Jewish faith. But the Jewish community does not have a place for me.” 

When we look at the verse in our Parsha, the Torah indicates here, as it does in other places, that the “ger” is to be treated as an equal. 

First, the idea that the “ger” is referred to as a “ger” when the “ger” has become a “Jew” indicates that we continue to attach a label, and even a stigma, to the Jew by choice. 

Second, do we really need a reminder of this nature? Meaning, if the “ger” is indeed “one of us” then what is the question? Shouldn’t it be obvious that the treatment of the “ger” is the same as everyone else? And that the law applies equally to the “ger” as it does to everyone else? 

Finally, how can we honestly say that the “ger” is treated equally, when we know it isn’t true? 

There are conversations in the Talmud in which the convert’s ability to say the first blessing of Shmoneh Esrei is questioned, because it describes “our God, the God of our Forefathers.” After all, the forefathers are not “really” the ancestors of the convert! Similarly the question is raised regarding the declaration made when presenting Bikkurim (the first fruits) as discussed in the beginning of Parshat Ki Tavo. May a convert state that “here we are in the land You promised to our forefathers?” They were not his forefathers! 

A Kohen may not marry a female convert. There are discussions in Jewish law about whether a convert can serve as a rabbi, or on a Bet Din (Jewish court). 

The Torah has rules about individuals from some nations who want to join the Jewish people, that they need to wait a few generations for their conversion to be finalized. In some cases, the conversion is never accepted! 

So, simply put, is there equality or not? 

Yitro’s descendants were given the land of Yericho, a city upon which Yehoshua placed a curse against any Israelite who would settle there. Gee! Thanks a lot! 

I have been present at a number of conversions. It is a blessing of being a mohel, that I am sometimes asked to perform the “hatafat dam brit” ritual on male converts before they enter the mikvah. It is always emotional. People who have waited for this moment sometimes break down and cry upon emerging from the Mikvah and being told “Welcome home, brother.” We embrace. We love the convert! That is our mitzvah. 

But then we let go. We forget that the convert does not have the background we have. We forget that the convert does not have an extended Jewish family. We forget that the convert is always very sincere, but sometimes does not always know what Judaism’s rules are. We forget that without regular contact, the convert might feel neglected and might sometimes fall back to old habits. 

We sometimes also forget that the convert came to Judaism after doing much thinking outside the box. And that that approach to life in general, thinking outside of the box, is what brought this person into our circles to begin with. And then, instead of embracing that different approach to life, we sometimes judge the convert for being a deep thinker, researching everything life has to offer, and not falling in line with the mainstream. 

Many converts I met have a relationship with God that should be the envy of all the Jews! We have to learn from the sincere converts about what it means to love Judaism, despite the challenges, despite certain hardships, and like Yitro, despite not having a place that made him comfortable. 

The Jew by choice who sticks through all the adversity and difficulties that accompany leaving your family and joining the Jewish people deserves our admiration and respect, and should always be embraced for thinking outside of the box, for that is what brought him or her to the join us as a brother or sister.

The Bull Sin Offering and the Levites

Parshat B'haalotkha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the most blatant reasons given for why the Levites were gifted their positions of holiness was on account of their not having participated in the sin of the Golden Calf. Separating themselves from the community of sinners put them on a higher level, and made them replace the first borns of all tribes who had been otherwise designated to serve in the Mishkan.

If the Levites were so pure, why are they given a sin offering to bring as part of their consecration ceremony?

The verse tells us: “They shall then take a young bull along with its grain offering consisting of the best grade wheat meal mixed with olive oil. You shall also present a second bull as a sin offering.” (8:8)

Rashi has two comments in these verses, which require a bit of explanation. On verse 7, Rashi quotes Rabbi Moshe HaDarshan who noted that “since the Levites were assigned to work the Mishkan as an atonement for the firstborns who had committed idolatry, and since idolatry is called “the sacrifices of the dead,” and since the Metzora is also called “dead,” God had the Levites undergo a shaving process similar to the Metzoras. 

On verse 8 (our verse in question), Rashi notes that the sin offering bull is referred to as “the second bull” to compare it to the bull for an olah (burnt offering) – suggesting that in this case, both are burned and not eaten (normally a sin offering is partly burned and partly eaten by the Kohanim (priests)). Rashi indicates that this idea supports Rabbi Moshe HaDarshan’s teaching in the previous verse – which implied that the Levites are partly appointed as a result of a communal idolatry – for which the sin offering is not eaten.

Rashi further states that this was a change indicated by the needs of the moment (hora’at sha’ah) because normally a goat is brought as a chatat (sin offering) along with the bull of the burnt offering.

This approach alone would suggest that reading between the lines shows us this offering was for a communal sin of idolatry, which is being brought at the time of the consecration of the Levites, on behalf of the Israelites.

But still, it seems odd that the Levites, at the moment of their ultimate consecration, would have to bring a sin offering, especially since there is plenty of evidence that a calf Aharon had brought some time ago had atoned for the Golden Calf.

This is why it is always advisable to read other commentators – some of whom have very different perspectives.

R Yosef Bchor Shor says the sin offering was meant to cover whichever (personal) sins the Levites may have had – after all, who is perfect?, and the fact that the offering was a bull is an honor to the Levites as it indicated that whatever personal sins they had specifically did not include idolatry, for which the offering would have been a goat. Chizkuni couches this slightly differently suggesting the assignment of the bull as this sin-offering was to protect the Levites from even the slightest suspicion that they personally needed atonement for idolatry.

Another perspective is that the Levites, similar to the princes at the end of last week’s Torah portion, are helping to consecrate the Mishkan. As such, their sin offering (each prince also brought a sin offering) is a way of setting in motion how offerings work.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch brings a different perspective based on the tense change in the verse (from plural to singular). “They shall take a bull… and you shall take a second bull.” The sin offering, he posits, is not on account of a sin lurking in their past, but an investment in and in consideration for their future mission, which is now being assigned to them.

The message is clear. The Levites represent us, but we also represent ourselves. As much as we can take responsibility for our own actions, sometimes our actions could go far above and beyond what even we are capable of achieving atonement for. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies. 

On the other hand, all of us could use a bank account of atonement for the future. We know we are imperfect, we know we will err. How can we minimize the damage coming in the future for things we haven’t done yet? Through bringing the sin offerings in advance. Through training ourselves in advance. Through building stock with God in advance.

This way when the time comes, and when we find ourselves culpable for communal sins, we should be able to stand tall and say, “We may have been wrong. But we have a very strong relationship with You. May You grant us forgiveness, and atonement because we have demonstrated our fealty to You through our love and commitment to Your Torah and statutes.”

No Jew is a perfect human being. However, as a collective unit, we are all in this world and this life together. It does not mean we are all the same or that we all must live the same way. But in the end, if we indeed are brothers and sisters, we share in a common destiny that we are all a part of. 

Even the first borns, who lost their jobs on account of participating in idolatry, shared in that common destiny.

Repetition Does Not Mean It's All the Same

Parshat Naso

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The 12 princes each bring their respective offering for the dedication of the mizbeach. Aside for a few minor changes in the depicted offerings of the second and eleventh princes, both words and melody are mostly the same for all of the offerings.

Why all the repetition? Why not just say that each prince brought the same thing – the following series of animals that was copied by each man?

Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch explained that each gift is introduced with the word “Korbano” – meaning he brought “his own offering,” irrespective of knowledge of what each person brought before him (or what another was planning to bring later). It turned out that each offering was the same.

In Rav Shternbuch’s view, each Nasi happened to think alike. But they weren’t copying one another. In listing each set of korbanot, the Torah might have presented a different result from each Nasi had they actually chosen to be different. The fact is that each one came to his contribution on his own, without consulting others.

That they turned out the same is coincidental.

So what was the thought process that led each to the same equation?

The Midrash equates the “Par ben Bakar” (bull) to Avraham, who served “ben Bakar” to the 3 angels; the ram to Yitzchak, who was replaced with a ram at the top of Mt Moriah; and the lamb to Yaakov, who became wealthy with lambs.

Baal Haturim notes that the numerical value of Bull, Ram, Lamb (Par Ayil Keves) = Avraham Yitzchak and V’Yaakov (643/644).

The S’ir Izim (goat) – could be an atonement for the sale of Yosef, or it could also be a reference to Yaakov who brought S’ir izim to his mother to feed his father.

The Midrash explains that the two oxen for the Korban Shlamim (peace offerings), parallel Moshe and Aharon, who were Shleimim. As for the five rams, five Atudim, and the five Kvasim (sheep), the numbers five represent the Five Books of the Torah, the Five Dibros on Luchos I (first five "commandments" on Tablet A), and the Five Dibros on Luchos II (second five "commandments" on Tablet B). Daat Zekenim suggests the two Bakar parallels the two tablets.

Looking at these Midrashim, one could be a little cynical and say this is rather silly. How does the Midrash know what each prince was thinking?

In the end, I think that it doesn’t matter. If we accept the premise that the reason for all the repetition of the sacrificial offerings is because each offering was not exactly the same – each offering was brought with different intentions and different thought processes, we can understand why each set of korbanos had to be mentioned separately.

This is true for us on a regular basis. We know we don’t generalize, saying that God is the god of all the forefathers! We call Him “God of Avraham, God of Yitzchak, God of Avraham” - each one had his own special relationship with God. All the same God, but there are different ways of getting close to Him. Every one of us comes to God differently. Some of us have a wonderful grasp of Hebrew, some of us put great devotion into our prayers. Some of us don’t read Hebrew at all, and make our way through the translation. Some of us don’t have any conversations with others during davening. Some of us have light conversation, sometimes even for a purpose, and sometimes we forget to focus. Some of us talk a lot during davening. Some of us might come to shul to talk!

But anyone who comes to shul and makes one’s way through the siddur does have a similar technical davening experience. Emotions, however, are always going to create different experiences.

We could ask for our own prayers to be heard. We could also pray for others’ prayers to be heard.

We may try to create a uniformity in terms of atmosphere for prayer, but we don’t want to churn out prayer-robots. And we certainly should not be creating barriers to entry to synagogue. Every Jew should be able to find a place to pray.

The experience of the N’siim may have been that they didn’t plan to do everything the same. It merely turned out looking the same. But each, after being interviewed regarding what they brought and why they brought it, would have a very different explanation for how they got to where they got, and what they had hoped to achieve.

This is the strength of the Jewish people. May we be blessed to admire the different approaches that others have to getting closer to God. May we be blessed to be respectful and tolerant of others approaches to achieving that most lofty of goals.

First Borns - Consecrated, or not?

Parshat B'midbar Sinai

by Rabbi Avi Billet

God tells Moshe, “I have separated the Levites from the [other] Israelites so that they may take the place of all the first-born (who initiate the womb) among the Israelites, and the Levites shall be Mine. This is because every first-born became Mine on the day I killed all the first-born in Egypt. I then sanctified to Myself every first-born in Israel, man and beast alike, [and] they shall remain Mine. I am God.” (3:12-13)

In Shmot 13:2, God told Moshe, “'Sanctify to Me every first-born that initiates the womb among the Israelites. Among both man and beast, it is Mine.'” In Shmot 13:12-13 He told Moshe, “You will then bring to God every [first-born] that initiates the womb. Whenever you have a young firstling animal, the males belong to God. Every firstling donkey must be redeemed with a sheep. If it is not redeemed, you must decapitate it. You must [also] redeem every first-born among your sons.”

Rashi’s comment that the first borns lost their job on account of their involvement in the Golden Calf stems from the Midrash which notes that “originally the firstborns were supposed to do the service, as we see from Shmot 24:5 (which can be translated that the ‘firstborns of Israel’ were sent to the mountain), but once the firstborns participated in bringing offerings before the calf… God disqualified them from the service in the Mishkan.” (This is a reference to Parshat Eikev, Devarim 10:8)

While I don’t have a good explanation for why God seems so obsessed with first borns, it is worthy to note that one of the first things Moshe is instructed to tell Pharaoh is “So said God, my son, my first born is Israel.” One of my teachers once explained that the first born turns a regular person into a parent. It is not just a life changing moment, but it is a status-changing moment.

Maybe God’s “need” for a first born (Israel) is a macrocosm of the need for individual firstborns to be consecrated.

This status conferred on first born by dint of birth puts them into a realm of needing to take responsibility for their behaviors and being cognizant of the consequences of their poor decisions.

Seforno notes that the Israelite firstborns were worthy of suffering the same fate as the Egyptian firstborns in Egypt. When you live in a country and conduct yourself in the same manner as the people of that country, you are subject to the same fate as that country. If Egypt’s firstborns were to die, by all rights Israel’s firstborns were to die.

But God had an ulterior motive. And so He saved them through sanctifying them and making them set aside to do the work and service of God. This is why their redemption was required and recorded so soon after their leaving Egypt, to demonstrate their sanctified status.

However, as Shakh on the Torah (R Mordekhai HaKohen) records, it was not as simple a move as just sanctifying the firstborns. God had said “Every firstborn in the land of Egypt will die” and had not qualified the statement with a declaration of “Except for the firstborns of Israel.” This gave the “mashchit” (the destroying force in Egypt) and the angel of death an opening to take the souls of Israel’s firstborns. God sanctifying the Israelite firstborns thus gave an added reason, perhaps the only reason, why the firstborn Israelites could not die during that plague.

Normally we have a principle of “Maalin b’kodesh v’ein moridin” which means that things can be elevated in their holiness status and not lowered in status. Pesach time I shared the story of how after Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya was deposed as being Nasi, there was a debate whether he could continue to lecture in the Nasi slot. They opted not to deny him the Nasi teaching slot, but to only give him less frequent opportunities to teach. Why? Because he can’t be brought down from the holiness level he had been given.”

If this is the case, how could the firstborns have been lowered in status, to no longer be those who serve in the Mishkan? R Mordekhai HaKohen explains that the raising in status was a feint – it was for a limited time, to allow for the firstborns to be spared during the plague.

Perhaps in this light, the idea of redeeming the firstborns is a forever tribute to being spared at that time.

But there is one deeper message of the specific change from the firstborns to the Levites, as explained by R Yosef Bkhor Shor. “Those who service the Mishkan are unworthy of getting a portion of inheritance, so they can be designated and dedicated to serving God. Since the firstborn received a double-portion of the inheritance, God took the Levites to replace the firstborns, and also commanded that the Levites not receive an inheritance in the land.”

First we have the notion that the first borns were never really consecrated to work in the Mishkan. Then we have the idea that their consecration status was only conferred upon them to save them from the plague in Egypt. Now we see they never could have served in the Mishkan because as firstborn they will have too much property to concern themselves with that they could never properly devote their time to the Mishkan service.

Was God protecting the firstborns, or is there something to the idea that not every person can adequately “do it all?”

Many of us are trying to balance so much. Being a parent. Being a devoted son or daughter. Holding down a job. All the volunteer work. All the hobbies. Trying to be a learned Jew. It’s a lot.

Were God to only give us a pass on the things we have a harder time handling, wouldn’t life be so much easier?

Probably. But would it be as fulfilling?