Parshat Bo
by Rabbi Avi Billet
With a small push, yet surprisingly little creativity, we can easily notice that the Exodus from Egypt mirrors the events that surround the last evening of the existence of Sodom.
In Egypt, the Israelites are instructed to eat matzahs. Lot served matzahs to his guests.
In Egypt, the Israelites were given a number of instructions focused on their doors – put blood on the doorpost, don’t go through the door (stay indoors) over the course of the night. The door makes a significant appearance at least seven times in Lot’s encounters with the people of his city, who were trying to break down the door to get to his guests.
In Egypt, there is safety inside, but there is danger outside in the form of the plague and the “mashchis” (death-bringing force). Lot’s home was a temporary safe zone from the raucous mob outside who were intent on harming Lot’s guests.
Some of the plagues we’ve seen (most notably hail, characterized by its fire raining down) were aimed at destroying the infrastructure of Egypt. Hail’s parallel to how Sodom was destroyed – with sulfur and fire raining down – is rather obvious.
The main encounters of the final hours in Egypt take place in the night time. The same is true for Sodom, as the angels/men arrive in the evening, and are in Lot’s house in the night time when the Sodom-rabble show up.
There is no house in Egypt not suffering a loss. In Sodom, every household was destroyed.
The Torah describes how the Israelites are to eat their food for the evening (12:11) and how they left Egypt (Devarim 16:3) – with haste (“Chipazon”). Lot’s experience in leaving Sodom was largely influenced by the actions of those who came to save him, and were done with much haste.
Regarding saving, the notion of how Israel was taken out of Egypt (such as is described in the first of the Ten Commandments) is an expressions of salvation. Whether physical or, in many ways, spiritual salvation, the idea that Israel’s future would have been seriously jeopardized had they stayed in Egypt longer is a clear theme emphasized by the rabbis. Owing to what we see in the instructions to Lot and family, and of course in his wife’s death, we see that Lot was also cutting it extremely close, and was moments away from falling to the same fate as his fellow Sodomites.
Both Israel and Lot were saved in Avraham’s merit (though Israel also enjoyed the merit of Yitzchak and Yaakov).
There are more parallels as well.
And yet, there are obvious differences.
While the story of Israel becomes the focus of the rest of the Torah, Lot’s story ends with the birth of his illegitimate sons – and he disappears from the narrative completely.
While Israel experiences both an Exodus from Egypt as well as a Pesach experience which turns them into a nation, Lot’s experience is primarily focused on his personal salvation (along with a few family members), minus whatever might have turned his family into a Godly people.
This is less to criticize Lot whose circumstances were very different, but more to highlight how the experience of the Israelites was something unique, and rather spectacular.
To achieve a salvation from physical destruction – that is wonderful. It happens to also be the experience of Noach and his family, as well as all the animals on the Ark.
But to experience Pesach, a turning point that creates a Godly entity with a purpose and mission that spans not only generations, but thousands of years until today, and an identifiable People still aiming to fulfill that mission – that is the incredible image we walk away with when contemplating the Exodus.
A blog of Torah thoughts and the occasional musing about Judaism, by Rabbi Avi Billet (Comments are moderated. Anonymity is discouraged.)
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Pharaoh's Free Will and Our Own
Parshat Va'era
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the most difficult questions we face when looking at the narrative of the plagues is in understanding the chapter 7 verse 3. In explaining how the plagues will go down, God says to Moshe, “'I will make Pharaoh obstinate, and will thus have the opportunity to display many miraculous signs and wonders in Egypt.”
Why make Pharaoh obstinate? Why not let the man cave and let his slaves leave?
It should be noted that Pharaoh did not exactly need God’s help, as he is stubborn through the first fives plagues without divine intervention. It should also be noted that there are two different terms which indicate Pharaoh’s inability to give in – one is “kvd lev,” a heaviness of the heart; the other is “chzk lev,” a strengthening of the heart.
What do these terms mean, and what do they tell us about Pharaoh’s own transition from not giving in to finally letting his slaves leave? And what does all this have to say about the seeming lack of free will – meaning, if we believe that God allows humans to make their own choices, including to dig their own graves if necessary, what do we say about a king who seems to be helpless because God is preventing him from exercising his free will to let his slaves leave? Why would Pharaoh be deserving of all the extra plagues mentioned in the verse, if he is not being stubborn of his own accord, past plague 5? Is it fair to put him in this untenable position, and then punish him for doing what God, in essence, made him do?
One approach (Ramban and others) suggests that Pharaoh had it coming. Once he flippantly dismissed God and God’s role in the world, God helped make things worse for him, so He could punish Pharaoh accordingly.
Abravanel has great difficulty with this line of reasoning for the simple reason that God does not desire the death of the wicked, but rather for him to turn from his evil ways to a path of righteousness.
His first answer focuses on the different forms of Teshuvah a person can experience.
One who sins towards God can regret, cry, repent and return to God. But when one sins towards human beings, returning to God is meaningless. One needs to make peace with the people with whom there was a fallout. He goes on to list a litany of ways in which humans need to pay up, pay back, fix, reconcile, etc with the other human being before Teshuvah can be fully accomplished. The Egyptians could cry to God all they wanted, but without recompense and without restitution and payment for their misdeeds and crimes against the Israelites, Teshuvah could never be complete. They were deserving of punishment in a way that could never be circumvented.
His second answer is that Teshuvah, first and foremost requires a belief in God who grants the Teshuvah. Since the Egyptians remained idolators through everything, their acceptance of God’s role in the plagues was mostly superficial in their jumping to accept God’s dominion over the world. For this too, Teshuvah efforts are useless.
His third, and (in his own words) preferred answer, is that Pharaoh’s stubbornness was not as much brought on by God’s involvement in his own emotions, but through his own seeing that the plagues did not last very long, leading him to believe they were lucky coincidences not brought about through the hands of a Divine power. What first truly got his attention was when the fourth plague only affected Egyptians and not Israelites. At the same time, the break which existed between plagues was actually part of the divine plan, to allow for “And so that you may tell over His name in all the land.” This pattern of “plague, cessation of plague, break,” Abravanel argues, is what caused Pharaoh’s heart to strengthen and harden. In other words, it is not that God changed Pharaoh’s ability to have free will. On the contrary, God played a game with Pharaoh, on account of Pharaoh’s past behaviors and track record of stubbornness, that was actually a continuation of a pattern which Pharaoh had already chosen to succumb to – that when a plague ends, it shows God has gotten tired and lost His strength. That “victory” on Pharaoh’s end, a victory of patience, is what caused him to strengthen his own resolve that he could win in the waiting game.
Though I like this final interpretation very much, I also like the explanation Rabbi David Forhman has shared, that Pharaoh needed to be in a position in which he lets the people leave because it is the right thing to do, and not because he is under duress from the plague. The point of God strengthening Pharaoh’s heart is essentially to bring Pharaoh back to a position of “I can handle this. And now I have the choice as to whether I will let Israel leave, without giving in because I have been defeated.”
What these last two interpretations have in common is that God is less manipulating Pharaoh’s mind and thought process, as much as He is giving Pharaoh the opportunity to embrace his chance to set aright his over-extending his cruel arm of slavery. In many ways, this is a tremendous credit to Pharaoh’s ability to exercise his free will, had he only chosen to do so.
It can be argued that free will is in the eye of the beholder. When people succumb to societal pressures, whether its living up to the Joneses, spending money on things they can’t afford, or signing on to things they don’t believe in because “society demands it,” then we are not free beings.
If my free will pushes me to follow rules that I agree with – then I am exercising my free will in doing so. This can certainly be said in the world of Torah observance, that those who opt in do so of their own free will. But it is the particular style and culture within the observant community which sometimes creates a less than free-will submission to an arena of group-think which can be reflective of an uninformed (because of apathy? Because of lack of curiosity? Because of a “we turn to experts with our questions without doing our own homework” attitude?) society which does not truly exercise free will.
Every time I see someone post an “obligatory photo” on social media, I wonder where the person’s free will in the arena of privacy, humility, shame has gone.
Unlike Pharaoh who used his free will to deny God’s existence, let us use our free will to get closer to the divine. When we waste our free will choices on the kinds of things that contribute little to our humanity and instead turn us into unthinking sheep, we have indeed lost a spark of what raises us as humans above the herd.
We owe it to ourselves to seek, to study, to learn, to discover, and to make free will choices that reflect deep thought processes rather than doing what everyone else is doing because everyone else is doing it.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the most difficult questions we face when looking at the narrative of the plagues is in understanding the chapter 7 verse 3. In explaining how the plagues will go down, God says to Moshe, “'I will make Pharaoh obstinate, and will thus have the opportunity to display many miraculous signs and wonders in Egypt.”
Why make Pharaoh obstinate? Why not let the man cave and let his slaves leave?
It should be noted that Pharaoh did not exactly need God’s help, as he is stubborn through the first fives plagues without divine intervention. It should also be noted that there are two different terms which indicate Pharaoh’s inability to give in – one is “kvd lev,” a heaviness of the heart; the other is “chzk lev,” a strengthening of the heart.
What do these terms mean, and what do they tell us about Pharaoh’s own transition from not giving in to finally letting his slaves leave? And what does all this have to say about the seeming lack of free will – meaning, if we believe that God allows humans to make their own choices, including to dig their own graves if necessary, what do we say about a king who seems to be helpless because God is preventing him from exercising his free will to let his slaves leave? Why would Pharaoh be deserving of all the extra plagues mentioned in the verse, if he is not being stubborn of his own accord, past plague 5? Is it fair to put him in this untenable position, and then punish him for doing what God, in essence, made him do?
One approach (Ramban and others) suggests that Pharaoh had it coming. Once he flippantly dismissed God and God’s role in the world, God helped make things worse for him, so He could punish Pharaoh accordingly.
Abravanel has great difficulty with this line of reasoning for the simple reason that God does not desire the death of the wicked, but rather for him to turn from his evil ways to a path of righteousness.
His first answer focuses on the different forms of Teshuvah a person can experience.
One who sins towards God can regret, cry, repent and return to God. But when one sins towards human beings, returning to God is meaningless. One needs to make peace with the people with whom there was a fallout. He goes on to list a litany of ways in which humans need to pay up, pay back, fix, reconcile, etc with the other human being before Teshuvah can be fully accomplished. The Egyptians could cry to God all they wanted, but without recompense and without restitution and payment for their misdeeds and crimes against the Israelites, Teshuvah could never be complete. They were deserving of punishment in a way that could never be circumvented.
His second answer is that Teshuvah, first and foremost requires a belief in God who grants the Teshuvah. Since the Egyptians remained idolators through everything, their acceptance of God’s role in the plagues was mostly superficial in their jumping to accept God’s dominion over the world. For this too, Teshuvah efforts are useless.
His third, and (in his own words) preferred answer, is that Pharaoh’s stubbornness was not as much brought on by God’s involvement in his own emotions, but through his own seeing that the plagues did not last very long, leading him to believe they were lucky coincidences not brought about through the hands of a Divine power. What first truly got his attention was when the fourth plague only affected Egyptians and not Israelites. At the same time, the break which existed between plagues was actually part of the divine plan, to allow for “And so that you may tell over His name in all the land.” This pattern of “plague, cessation of plague, break,” Abravanel argues, is what caused Pharaoh’s heart to strengthen and harden. In other words, it is not that God changed Pharaoh’s ability to have free will. On the contrary, God played a game with Pharaoh, on account of Pharaoh’s past behaviors and track record of stubbornness, that was actually a continuation of a pattern which Pharaoh had already chosen to succumb to – that when a plague ends, it shows God has gotten tired and lost His strength. That “victory” on Pharaoh’s end, a victory of patience, is what caused him to strengthen his own resolve that he could win in the waiting game.
Though I like this final interpretation very much, I also like the explanation Rabbi David Forhman has shared, that Pharaoh needed to be in a position in which he lets the people leave because it is the right thing to do, and not because he is under duress from the plague. The point of God strengthening Pharaoh’s heart is essentially to bring Pharaoh back to a position of “I can handle this. And now I have the choice as to whether I will let Israel leave, without giving in because I have been defeated.”
What these last two interpretations have in common is that God is less manipulating Pharaoh’s mind and thought process, as much as He is giving Pharaoh the opportunity to embrace his chance to set aright his over-extending his cruel arm of slavery. In many ways, this is a tremendous credit to Pharaoh’s ability to exercise his free will, had he only chosen to do so.
It can be argued that free will is in the eye of the beholder. When people succumb to societal pressures, whether its living up to the Joneses, spending money on things they can’t afford, or signing on to things they don’t believe in because “society demands it,” then we are not free beings.
If my free will pushes me to follow rules that I agree with – then I am exercising my free will in doing so. This can certainly be said in the world of Torah observance, that those who opt in do so of their own free will. But it is the particular style and culture within the observant community which sometimes creates a less than free-will submission to an arena of group-think which can be reflective of an uninformed (because of apathy? Because of lack of curiosity? Because of a “we turn to experts with our questions without doing our own homework” attitude?) society which does not truly exercise free will.
Every time I see someone post an “obligatory photo” on social media, I wonder where the person’s free will in the arena of privacy, humility, shame has gone.
Unlike Pharaoh who used his free will to deny God’s existence, let us use our free will to get closer to the divine. When we waste our free will choices on the kinds of things that contribute little to our humanity and instead turn us into unthinking sheep, we have indeed lost a spark of what raises us as humans above the herd.
We owe it to ourselves to seek, to study, to learn, to discover, and to make free will choices that reflect deep thought processes rather than doing what everyone else is doing because everyone else is doing it.
Saturday, January 18, 2020
When God's Plans Change - Is There Room for Imperfection in a 'Perfect' World?
Parshat Shmot Sermon - 5780/2020
Rabbi Avi Billet
In 2014, Rabbi Elimelech Goldberg was featured in a CNN piece for being one of their top 10 heroes. This past Spring I had the opportunity to meet Rabbi Goldberg, who is the founder of an organization called “Kids Kicking Cancer,” which teaches martial arts techniques to children with cancer to help them deal with the pain of their illness and treatments.
Rabbi Goldberg wrote a book of lessons learned from the children he works with, entitled “A perfect God created an imperfect world perfectly.” It’s a line that he used a few times in the talk he gave at the conference. But it says a lot about how Rabbi Goldberg has come to terms with a devastating illness, one that took his own daughter’s life at a very young age, and with the overall – I’ll just call it “imperfection” – that is the hallmark of what has become a defining element of his life’s work: bringing inspiration – what we might call “perfection” – from a circumstance that seems to be anything but that .
To be honest I didn’t think much about that line, and I have not had the chance to read the book yet. But another reason that phrase came to mind was because of two things that happened this week. The first came in my preparation for the parsha class Wednesday night, and the second happened at the Mishmar event hosted by the Men’s Club on Thursday night.
I’ll share with you a little of the process of each.
Many of us have a problem when we study Chumash. Since we’ve seen it before, we come at it with our own biases and pre-conceived concepts and interpretations. And while some of us might revere a particular commentary, it is quite clear that some of the early and medieval commentators, who certainly had a high level of respect for the trailblazers of Chumash commentary, they also had no qualms about disagreeing with things earlier scholars had written, whether on a pshat level, on a level that prefers less “drash” and “midrash,” or simply because they felt an explanation was insufficient, incomplete, or did not adequately address what they perceived as a much bigger problem in the text or in the Torah’s narrative.
An easy example of this is Rashi’s explanation of what I like to call the Mysterious “Hotel Incident” in which someone’s death was sought and Tziporah circumcised her son to end the problem. Rashi claims it was Moshe who almost died. Rabbenu Bachaye disagrees because he believes Moshe was not even present in the hotel. The Gemara in Nedarim even raises two possibilities – that either Moshe’s or his son’s death was sought. Haksav V’hakabbalah raised the possibility that Moshe sought his own death because he was overwhelmed, much like we’ll see Moshe do later in the Torah, much like we see of Yirmiyahu and Yonah also wanting to die rather than continue their respective prophetic missions.
What really troubled me, though, in preparing for the class Wednesday night, was how the Netziv looked at events as they unfolded and noted that most of God’s original plans seemed to have been scrapped or changed on account of how the humans in the story reacted to their assigned missions. Recall there isn’t a script! There is God’s plan. What some of us might call the not understandable “Master Plan.” [This is how our method of studying Chumash is to our detriment, because we don’t even consider this kind of perspective.]
Just to give a few examples of what happened and what was supposed to happen – mostly based on the encounter at the Burning Bush. Which, by the way, in the narrative seems to take a few minutes. But the rabbis tell us it spanned a week!
God tells Moshe who He (God) is, and He tells Moshe his (Moshe’s) job. Now, it’s easy for me to say, because I know the story. But if God is writing the script, what should happen? Moshe should say, “Got it!” and he should go to Egypt.
But that doesn’t happen! Moshe claims he is unworthy, מִ֣י אָנֹ֔כִי כִּ֥י אֵלֵ֖ךְ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה וְכִ֥י אוֹצִ֛יא אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל מִמִּצְרָֽיִם. And instead of jumping, Moshe argues with God!! And he plays Devil’s Advocate – listing all the things that could go wrong WITH GOD’S PLAN. The people will need proof that I spoke to you. They’ll ask for God’s NAME. So God gives him a name, and he gives him a script of what to tell everyone, about Avraham, Yitzhcak and Yaakov, and to gather the elders. God even says וְשָׁמְע֖וּ לְקֹלֶ֑ךָ they (could be the people, could be the elders) will listen to you, and you’ll go to Pharaoh asking for a 3-day journey to worship God. Hashem even says “I know Pharoah will not let you go.” So there will be plagues, etc. Should be done - right?
Not so fast.
Moshe says, “They’re not going to believe me. They will not listen to me.”
WHAT? Moshe. You are challenging GOD?! GOD just told you what’s going to happen. How dare you be skeptical, untrusting?
God plays along, giving him 3 signs, and even saying “If they don’t listen or believe the 1st, they’ll believe the 2nd. And if not the 1st and 2nd, they’ll believe the 3rd.”
That should settle it. Right?
“God, I am not a man of words.”
Still, with the objections? OK. Fine. I’ll give you the words. I AM GOD. It’ll be fine. Go. I’ll be with you.
Moshe should feel at ease. Right? וַיֹּ֖אמֶר בִּ֣י אֲדֹנָ֑י שְֽׁלַֽח־נָ֖א בְּיַד־תִּשְׁלָֽח Send someone else.
God gets ANGRY at Moshe. Tells him Aharon will be there to help him. And the conversation ends.
On his way to Egypt, God reminds him about the use of his staff, and that Pharaoh will not be letting them go right away. Then we have the hotel incident.
Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch shares the following insight, noting the view that it was Moshe’s death that almost took place. Pay careful attention, because he says something that is very difficult to fathom. “The Torah here informs us that God preferred to let Moshe die rather than allow him to continue along his journey and carry out his assigned mission in Egypt with an uncircumcised son. No man – not even Moses – is indispensable to God." Can any of us imagine a Torah without Moshe?
In Parshat Eikev, RSRH similarly noted, “Am Yisrael's mission and destiny do not depend on any single individual, and thus God was prepared to kill Moshe for neglecting his son's circumcision, and bring about Israel's redemption through another leader.”
But what about MOSHE being MOSHE? How could GOD deviate from His PERFECT SCRIPT?
O yes. About that perfect script.
Moshe arrives in Egypt – with Aharon. They gather the elders. Aharon speaks to the people. He (or Moshe – it’s not clear) show the people the signs. וַֽיַּאֲמֵ֖ן הָעָ֑ם וַֽיִּשְׁמְע֡וּ כִּֽי־פָקַ֨ד יְקֹוָ֜ק אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל. THIS is EXACTLY what GOD said would happen. All of Moshe’s objections were a waste of time.
But then Moshe and Aharon come to Pharaoh. WHERE ARE THE ZEKENIM? There’s a deviation from the script….
Moshe and Aharon say in God’s name, “Send My people so they can celebrate for me.” WHAT? God never said that!
Instead of saying “No,” Pharaoh challenges God’s authority by denying God’s existence. Note, of course that that becomes a game changer. There were supposed to be plagues – we know that. But the goal of the plagues now becomes about having Egypt learn, recognize and know וידעו מצרים כי אני ה'. This too is a change from the original plan.
Part of the plan was that Pharaoh would be stubborn but not make things worse for the Bnei Yisrael. And this is what Moshe complains about at the end of the parsha – why has the plan seemingly changed?
We are familiar with the idea that Pharaoh had free will. I don’t share the view that Hashem doctored Pharaoh’s free will. I once heard Rabbi David Fohrman explain the words that describe the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart to mean that God strengthened Pharaoh’s heart to have the ability to make the decision to free the Bnei Yisrael of his own will, rather than on account of duress from the plagues. It’s easy to cry Uncle and to give in. But to make the choice that Israel should be let free because it’s the right thing to do… that was why Pharaoh’s heart needed encouragement and strength.
So what do we have here? A script – plotted out by God – that changes at every turn on account of the choices of Man. In this case, mostly Moshe and Pharaoh.
Aharon’s role as Moshe’s spokesman, by the way - Aharon hardly filled that role. He certainly did it when talking to the Nation (or the Elders?) at the outset. But for a man who said, “לא איש דברים אנכי” we certainly see Moshe at the end of his life saying אלה הדברים אשר דבר משה אל כל ישראל. He is hardly “not a man of words.”
Rabbi Goldberg called this world “Imperfect” – an Imperfect world created perfectly. I think that is an apt definition – but we need to understand what it means.
So let me share with you what happened at the Mishmar and then we’ll bring this to a close.
S___ gave a shiur to the Men’s Club about the Rambam’s Ani Maamins. And the opening question posed created quite a stir. “I believe with complete faith that the Creator is the בורא ומנהיג. The creator and guide of the world.” The question was, if God determines that a person will live, for example, could another person come along and change that through a murderous act? Will the murder be unsuccessful? Or if it is successful, is the person’s death actually part of God’s plan? As hard as it is for us to understand.
There was an animated conversation, with varying views, shared around the room.
It should be noted that what was not said, is the opposite. If God determines someone should die, could Teshuvah, or an amazing undertaking of Mitzvos and Middos tovos change the person’s destiny from death to continued life and blessing? I can’t imagine anyone here would say “No” to that one. Obviously then, human input can change whatever seems to be God’s Master Plan.
So what of the acts of murderers? What of a terrorist act that kills innocents – whether in Israel, whether targeting Jews, or whether targeting anyone? Must we always say “It was God’s Will and we don’t understand God’s Master Plan?”
Or can we say, there is an element of perfection in the imperfection of creation. There is something to creating humans not as robots, not as machines, not as animals, but as beings with free will, who can make decisions – in some cases for good, and for amazing deeds and acts. And sometimes for bad, for really horrible outcomes. Is it ever appropriate to suggest that all the Kedoshim of the Holocaust were judged for murder, and that God used Hitler ימ"ש as His executioner? Or can we lay the blame for the Holocaust squarely where it belong – on the Nazis ימ"ש?
דוד המלך said – and we say this in Tachanun – נפלה נא ביד ה' וביד רחמיו וביד אדם אל אפלה. David said that in the context of a punishment that was supposed to come his way for an unauthorized census he carried out towards the end of Shmuel II. God gave him options – years of famine, months of failed battles, or 3 days of plague. And David chose the latter option – 3 days of plague, relying on the fact that God could stop whenever He wants and be merciful. But put man in charge of carrying out God’s mission, and Man could do unspeakable crimes.
Every year new stories of the Nazis come out. The extent of their cruelty and depravity continues to shock, over 70 years after WWII ended. Pharaoh – whose destiny was to be the address where Avraham’s descendants were exiled – took the level of slavery he was fated to enslave with to levels far beyond what he needed to do to achieve the required outcomes. Which is why the splitting of the Sea happened. The original plan – as spoken at the Burning Bush and at the Bris Bein Habsarim, was for the nation to be punished in their land and to allow Bnei Yisrael to leave with wealth. Plagues – yes! But to wipe out the Egyptian army? Not part of the original plan.
People make choices, and even God’s plan could change.
But what about what we all know – the davening from Yom Kippur? On RH and YK it is decided who will live and who will die. Who in their time and who not in their time.
What does that even mean? We certainly don’t know what everyone’s pre-destined time is, so how could we ever look back in hindsight and say who passed away too young, at the right time, or, how do we know a person didn’t get an extension? Based on a Gemara in Rosh Hashana, the Alshikh on Parshat Nitzavim says that what is determined on the Yamim Noraim is the destiny of the SOUL. Will the SOUL LIVE or will the SOUL DIE? Is the SOUL destined for חיי עולם or is the SOUL destined for גהנם?
כן תעביר ותספור ותמנה ותפקד נפש כל חי. NEFESH. It’s not about whether we will live or die. Some people have a fundamental theological problem with a healthy person being cut down by a gun or in a car accident. With a baby לא עלינו dying.
On the other hand, we somehow understand or at least accept illness – some people succumb to it, and some defy ALL the odds, and ALL the medical textbooks.
And so the Alshikh suggests that what is slated on YK is where the soul will go should the person die in this year. And even for those fated to גהנם we have a widespread tradition that Kaddish can reverse even the worst of those fates over the course of 11 months. So there’s not much to worry about.
We often wish people should have no more sorrow. But is that even possible? It IS an imperfect world. Professor David Shatz has made a career out of teaching Rabbi Soloveitchik’s thoughts on suffering. Everyone suffers at some point – in between all the happiness and the nachas, people suffer. The only way a person can have no more sorrow is if that person is the next person to die, and dies in an instant without illness, pain or suffering.
It’s an imperfect world. But the world goes on. Day in and day out. And people have wonderful times, and vacations, and dark and difficult times, and setbacks and sorrow. But the sun rises each day, and every day is a new opportunity.
Even Moshe might not have made it to become Moshe Rabbenu had Tziporah not circumcised her son in that moment. It was a setback. A minimal suffering.
But she, like other heroes before her, and after her, took a challenge life threw her way and brought things to an equitable resolution, that certainly in the larger scheme of things, worked out rather nicely.
That God’s plans for Moshe in Egypt don’t follow God’s “perfect” script is just a microcosm of what life is. The reason why the creation is perfect is because the world is imperfect. If everything aligned perfectly all the time, we’d be machines, robots, with no passion, no drive, no highs, no lows, no successes, no failures, no lessons learned, no challenges to face or overcome.
We are not animals – governed by instinct and nature alone. We are not angels – governed by God’s word alone. We have free will. We do influence our choices, and in many ways, our outcomes.
Is there a Master Plan? I imagine there is. And often enough, we don’t understand it. But let us never fall into complacency thinking we have no role in outcomes. Our choices – for good and for bad – have influence. Our tefillot – have influence. Our deeds – both good and bad – play a significant role in how things turn out. Our own demeanor – towards loved ones, friends, and acquaintances, has an impact on the mood we leave a room in when we exit.
Our tafkid, our job in this life, is to focus on what we can do. Mitzvos, Chesed, look out for others, work on our relationship with God, and be kind to the needy and the oppressed.
We may not achieve perfection. But it is through how we work through the challenges of imperfection that we can find the closest thing to perfection in our lifetimes. And that comes when we can look back at what is achieved in life and say “I put in my best effort. I let God carry me the rest of the way.” And as a result, the outcome (which is not always the one we liked or wanted, but is the one God felt is right for us) could not be more perfect.
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
The Mysterious Hotel Incident
Parshat Shemot
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the more mysterious narratives in the Torah concerns what is likely the final trip back to Egypt after the burning bush (the Midrash suggests Moshe went back and forth a number of times, and that years may have even passed between the Burning Bush and Moshe’s first audience with Pharaoh).
The Torah says the following in 4:24-26. (The following is as literal a translation as I could create –with the understanding that even the literal translation is subject to debate and very different possible meanings).
“And it was on the way, in a hotel, and the Lord met him, and he (He?) sought his death. And Tzipporah took a stone and she cut her son’s foreskin, and she touched his (its?) feet. And she said, “Because you are a ‘Hatan’ of blood.” It subsided from him, then she said, “A ‘Hatan’ of blood to circumciseds.”
What was on the way? What hotel? Who was there? The Lord met whom? Whose death was sought? By whom? What stone did Tzipporah take? From where? Did she merely cut the foreskin? Or remove it? Which son was circumcised? She touched whose feet? With the foreskin? What sense are we to make of the things she said? What is a ‘Hatan’ of blood? What does this have to do with circumcision? How did a circumcision end the danger?
Trying something different this week, I am going to offer a number of possibilities in answering each question (in some cases, with a few questions), without reaching a particular conclusion in explaining the narrative
What was on the way? Was this a journey similar to a journey made by Avraham? Is “the way” delineating a significant passage of time, of status? Who was even present? Moshe is not mentioned in the narrative by name.
What hotel? Was it their first stop on the journey? Was it closer to Midian or to Egypt? Does the word “Malon” (hotel) have anything to do with the “Milah” (circumcision) that takes place there? Is the main point for us to take that they are clearly no longer in Midian?
Who was there? We know about Tzipporah and her son. Was Moshe there? Was another son there? Was anyone else present? There is a Midrash that the death seeking was perpetrated by a destructive angel or two. What does that mean?
The Lord met whom? Did God meet Moshe? The child? The destructive angel? Note that the name of God utilized here is the name typically associated with mercy. That seems rather strange if we assume God was trying to kill someone!
Whose death was sought? Moshe’s death? One of their sons’?
By whom? Was God trying to take someone’s life? Was an angel? Did Moshe have depressing feelings – and he sought his own death?
What stone did Tzipporah take? From where? Was it sharp? Was it jagged? Did she carry it for emergency purposes? Did she merely cut the foreskin? Or remove it? The narrative uses the word “Va’tikhrot” which most likely means a full removal. How did she know to do that? What possessed her to take this particular action? How would she know what to do with the foreskin – or did her next move just come about in the heat of the moment, at the height of her concern over whatever was happening around her?
Which son was circumcised? As best we know she had one son, Gershom, who was born at the end of chapter 2. We know about a second son from when she shows up in Shmot 18 at the beginning of Parshat Yitro. When was the second son born? Was he alive at the time of the burning bush? Was he born subsequent to the burning bush episode? By how many years? How old was Gershom at the time of this incident in the hotel? If she circumcised him, he could already be a teenager!
She touched whose feet? Did her rock/knife cut the newly circumcised son’s feet? Did she touch the feet of a destructive angel? Did she throw the foreskin at someone’s feet? Was it blood that touched or reached someone’s feet? How do we know what touched what or what touched whom?
What sense are we to make of the things she said? To whom is she speaking, and about whom is she speaking? The foreskin? Her baby? Her older son? Her husband? Does ‘Hatan’ automatically mean ‘groom’ as many translate it? Is it a Hebrew word?
What is a ‘Hatan’ of blood? What does this have to do with circumcision? How did a circumcision end the danger?
The only things that are clear in this story (to me) are that someone’s death was sought, and that Tzippoah’s circumcising her son ended the threat. So why does the Torah tell us this tale?
I think the journey tells us much about Moshe’s quick transition from shepherd of sheep to Shepherd of Israel. To do this, Moshe needs to have experiences similar to that of Avraham – circumcision and near death (think “Akedah”) to be ready to take care of Avraham’s descendants, and to serve as the person who will bring the promise made to Avraham to its absolute completion.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the more mysterious narratives in the Torah concerns what is likely the final trip back to Egypt after the burning bush (the Midrash suggests Moshe went back and forth a number of times, and that years may have even passed between the Burning Bush and Moshe’s first audience with Pharaoh).
The Torah says the following in 4:24-26. (The following is as literal a translation as I could create –with the understanding that even the literal translation is subject to debate and very different possible meanings).
“And it was on the way, in a hotel, and the Lord met him, and he (He?) sought his death. And Tzipporah took a stone and she cut her son’s foreskin, and she touched his (its?) feet. And she said, “Because you are a ‘Hatan’ of blood.” It subsided from him, then she said, “A ‘Hatan’ of blood to circumciseds.”
What was on the way? What hotel? Who was there? The Lord met whom? Whose death was sought? By whom? What stone did Tzipporah take? From where? Did she merely cut the foreskin? Or remove it? Which son was circumcised? She touched whose feet? With the foreskin? What sense are we to make of the things she said? What is a ‘Hatan’ of blood? What does this have to do with circumcision? How did a circumcision end the danger?
Trying something different this week, I am going to offer a number of possibilities in answering each question (in some cases, with a few questions), without reaching a particular conclusion in explaining the narrative
What was on the way? Was this a journey similar to a journey made by Avraham? Is “the way” delineating a significant passage of time, of status? Who was even present? Moshe is not mentioned in the narrative by name.
What hotel? Was it their first stop on the journey? Was it closer to Midian or to Egypt? Does the word “Malon” (hotel) have anything to do with the “Milah” (circumcision) that takes place there? Is the main point for us to take that they are clearly no longer in Midian?
Who was there? We know about Tzipporah and her son. Was Moshe there? Was another son there? Was anyone else present? There is a Midrash that the death seeking was perpetrated by a destructive angel or two. What does that mean?
The Lord met whom? Did God meet Moshe? The child? The destructive angel? Note that the name of God utilized here is the name typically associated with mercy. That seems rather strange if we assume God was trying to kill someone!
Whose death was sought? Moshe’s death? One of their sons’?
By whom? Was God trying to take someone’s life? Was an angel? Did Moshe have depressing feelings – and he sought his own death?
What stone did Tzipporah take? From where? Was it sharp? Was it jagged? Did she carry it for emergency purposes? Did she merely cut the foreskin? Or remove it? The narrative uses the word “Va’tikhrot” which most likely means a full removal. How did she know to do that? What possessed her to take this particular action? How would she know what to do with the foreskin – or did her next move just come about in the heat of the moment, at the height of her concern over whatever was happening around her?
Which son was circumcised? As best we know she had one son, Gershom, who was born at the end of chapter 2. We know about a second son from when she shows up in Shmot 18 at the beginning of Parshat Yitro. When was the second son born? Was he alive at the time of the burning bush? Was he born subsequent to the burning bush episode? By how many years? How old was Gershom at the time of this incident in the hotel? If she circumcised him, he could already be a teenager!
She touched whose feet? Did her rock/knife cut the newly circumcised son’s feet? Did she touch the feet of a destructive angel? Did she throw the foreskin at someone’s feet? Was it blood that touched or reached someone’s feet? How do we know what touched what or what touched whom?
What sense are we to make of the things she said? To whom is she speaking, and about whom is she speaking? The foreskin? Her baby? Her older son? Her husband? Does ‘Hatan’ automatically mean ‘groom’ as many translate it? Is it a Hebrew word?
What is a ‘Hatan’ of blood? What does this have to do with circumcision? How did a circumcision end the danger?
The only things that are clear in this story (to me) are that someone’s death was sought, and that Tzippoah’s circumcising her son ended the threat. So why does the Torah tell us this tale?
I think the journey tells us much about Moshe’s quick transition from shepherd of sheep to Shepherd of Israel. To do this, Moshe needs to have experiences similar to that of Avraham – circumcision and near death (think “Akedah”) to be ready to take care of Avraham’s descendants, and to serve as the person who will bring the promise made to Avraham to its absolute completion.
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Yisrael and Yaakov - Round II
See here for Round I
Parshat Vaychi
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Every now and then I like to revisit the question of whether the Torah has a consistent method for how it switches between calling our third forefather, sometimes Yaakov and sometimes Yisrael. Of course he does have both names, and unlike Avraham whose named changed forever at the time of his circumcision, Yaakov maintains both names even after being told by God "Your name will be Yisrael."
Of course there is an approach that the names are interchangeable and there's no specific reason one would be utilized in the text over the other. But logic might dictate otherwise, especially when one considers that the Torah is not haphazardly put together, but rather has rhyme, reason, poetry, and of course (a definition of) perfection in its construct.
Which leads us to Or HaChaim, whose comment on the opening verse of our parsha will now be presented.
Yisrael represents an upper level of holiness. It is representative of an added soul – a similar idea to that which we have on Shabbos, which is a higher level of holiness – making soulful moments and events being ever-tied to the name Yisrael. As long as this loftiness is felt or present, Yisrael is the name of choice.
But when Shabbos leaves, or if that extra soul departs, if the feeling of the soul and spirit becomes lacking, then Yisrael leaves and Yaakov takes over. Yaakov is defined by the presence of “sadness and sorrow.”
When God first tells him “You are Yaakov” – at the time of changing his name, Yaakov was in mourning over the death of his mother. That is why he is referred to as Yaakov in Beit El, even as his name is being changed to Yisrael, because of the downside of mourning for his mother. The same happens when he is in mourning for Rachel – “Yaakov placed a monument over her grave.”
However, once that mourning period passed, God gave him the name Yisrael – because you have to move on and bring yourself up.
But when the brothers are referred to as “the sons of Yaakov” both in Shechem and in the aftermath of the Reuven/Bilhah story – things are not so good for the family – even if he is personally referred to as Yisrael. At those times, he is in a better state, while his family is suffering.
Midrash Tehillim notes that each of the Avot died before their grandchildren could take a significant role in the family. For each father to get full respect in his own realm, his own father needed to be out of the way. When Yitzchak is removed from the equation (in the way the Torah depicts his death and therefore his leaving), Yisrael can make an appearance. At the same time, Yaakov living in Canaan was subject to a very difficult life, and with rare exception is always referred to as Yaakov. He is referred to as Yisrael in 37:3 when the Torah describes how “Yisrael loved Yosef.”
However, from the time Yosef is sold until he finds out Yosef is alive, he is only referred to as Yisrael 3 times, in the context of negotiations surrounding whether Binyamin will be going to Egypt or not. The usage of Yisrael in those cases is because he is being raised up, raising his own status from having become the over-the-hill father to the one in charge of this family’s destiny.
When he hears Yosef is alive, “Yaakov’s spirit came alive” – raising Yaakov out of despair, in order to allow for Yisrael to make an appearance in deciding, “I will go to see Yosef.” God once again makes an appearance in reviving Yaakov’s spirit, which is why “Yisrael travels,” and “God said to Yisrael.”
But, when he heard they were going to be descending to Egypt, and that they would likely be there for some time, a pall fell upon him again, and Yaakov once again appeared.
When he came into the presence of Yosef again, he reappeared as Yisrael. And it seems that Yisrael is mostly used when Yosef is around – because this is what helps Yaakov stay aside. Yosef, in a sense, fulfills the spiritual needs of the man named Yisrael.
What gets our spirit going? What brings out the Yisrael side of us?
What brings us down? What gets us to rally our physical side to help us get to where we need to be?
The march in NYC this past Sunday was inspiring – hopefully a strong Yaakov emerged and will continue to fight societal elements that are looking to wipe away a remnant of Yisrael. In contrast, the world wide Daf Yomi celebrations of this past week are a beautiful reminder of what the strength of Yisrael can achieve, certainly internally, and hopefully as a source of inspiration externally as well.
We need both – Yaakov is where we start. Yaakov is our strength in this world. But Yisrael is where we need to be. It is the fighting spirit of our People, to be getting closer to God, to having that extra soul that makes us a spiritual force to be reckoned with.
Do you like this explanation? According to Or HaChaim, it works throughout chapters 36-50. If you don’t see it, you’re reading the Torah the wrong way.
Take the challenge - prove him wrong! A small homework assignment...
Parshat Vaychi
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Every now and then I like to revisit the question of whether the Torah has a consistent method for how it switches between calling our third forefather, sometimes Yaakov and sometimes Yisrael. Of course he does have both names, and unlike Avraham whose named changed forever at the time of his circumcision, Yaakov maintains both names even after being told by God "Your name will be Yisrael."
Of course there is an approach that the names are interchangeable and there's no specific reason one would be utilized in the text over the other. But logic might dictate otherwise, especially when one considers that the Torah is not haphazardly put together, but rather has rhyme, reason, poetry, and of course (a definition of) perfection in its construct.
Which leads us to Or HaChaim, whose comment on the opening verse of our parsha will now be presented.
Yisrael represents an upper level of holiness. It is representative of an added soul – a similar idea to that which we have on Shabbos, which is a higher level of holiness – making soulful moments and events being ever-tied to the name Yisrael. As long as this loftiness is felt or present, Yisrael is the name of choice.
But when Shabbos leaves, or if that extra soul departs, if the feeling of the soul and spirit becomes lacking, then Yisrael leaves and Yaakov takes over. Yaakov is defined by the presence of “sadness and sorrow.”
When God first tells him “You are Yaakov” – at the time of changing his name, Yaakov was in mourning over the death of his mother. That is why he is referred to as Yaakov in Beit El, even as his name is being changed to Yisrael, because of the downside of mourning for his mother. The same happens when he is in mourning for Rachel – “Yaakov placed a monument over her grave.”
However, once that mourning period passed, God gave him the name Yisrael – because you have to move on and bring yourself up.
But when the brothers are referred to as “the sons of Yaakov” both in Shechem and in the aftermath of the Reuven/Bilhah story – things are not so good for the family – even if he is personally referred to as Yisrael. At those times, he is in a better state, while his family is suffering.
Midrash Tehillim notes that each of the Avot died before their grandchildren could take a significant role in the family. For each father to get full respect in his own realm, his own father needed to be out of the way. When Yitzchak is removed from the equation (in the way the Torah depicts his death and therefore his leaving), Yisrael can make an appearance. At the same time, Yaakov living in Canaan was subject to a very difficult life, and with rare exception is always referred to as Yaakov. He is referred to as Yisrael in 37:3 when the Torah describes how “Yisrael loved Yosef.”
However, from the time Yosef is sold until he finds out Yosef is alive, he is only referred to as Yisrael 3 times, in the context of negotiations surrounding whether Binyamin will be going to Egypt or not. The usage of Yisrael in those cases is because he is being raised up, raising his own status from having become the over-the-hill father to the one in charge of this family’s destiny.
When he hears Yosef is alive, “Yaakov’s spirit came alive” – raising Yaakov out of despair, in order to allow for Yisrael to make an appearance in deciding, “I will go to see Yosef.” God once again makes an appearance in reviving Yaakov’s spirit, which is why “Yisrael travels,” and “God said to Yisrael.”
But, when he heard they were going to be descending to Egypt, and that they would likely be there for some time, a pall fell upon him again, and Yaakov once again appeared.
When he came into the presence of Yosef again, he reappeared as Yisrael. And it seems that Yisrael is mostly used when Yosef is around – because this is what helps Yaakov stay aside. Yosef, in a sense, fulfills the spiritual needs of the man named Yisrael.
What gets our spirit going? What brings out the Yisrael side of us?
What brings us down? What gets us to rally our physical side to help us get to where we need to be?
The march in NYC this past Sunday was inspiring – hopefully a strong Yaakov emerged and will continue to fight societal elements that are looking to wipe away a remnant of Yisrael. In contrast, the world wide Daf Yomi celebrations of this past week are a beautiful reminder of what the strength of Yisrael can achieve, certainly internally, and hopefully as a source of inspiration externally as well.
We need both – Yaakov is where we start. Yaakov is our strength in this world. But Yisrael is where we need to be. It is the fighting spirit of our People, to be getting closer to God, to having that extra soul that makes us a spiritual force to be reckoned with.
Do you like this explanation? According to Or HaChaim, it works throughout chapters 36-50. If you don’t see it, you’re reading the Torah the wrong way.
Take the challenge - prove him wrong! A small homework assignment...
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