Knowing God - is it Possible?

Parshat Va'Etchanan

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The verse in the latter half of Chapter 4 reads as follows:

 (לט) וְיָדַעְתָּ֣ הַיּ֗וֹם וַהֲשֵׁבֹתָ֘ אֶל־לְבָבֶךָ֒ כִּ֤י יְקֹוָק֙ ה֣וּא הָֽאֱלֹהִ֔ים בַּשָּׁמַ֣יִם מִמַּ֔עַל וְעַל־הָאָ֖רֶץ מִתָּ֑חַת אֵ֖ין עֽוֹד: 

“And you shall know today, and you shall return to your heart that the Lord is God in the heavens above and on the earth below, there is no other.” 

 This verse is one which appears in our liturgy several times, including in Aleinu, and is therefore quite familiar to us.

In the Rav Peninim Chumash, the author uses this verse as a springboard for a mini-essay entitled “A teaching for how to serve God.” Pointing to the view that this verse is the source for the positive commandment to do our best to know God and appreciate his Oneness, he directs us to contemplate how we get to such an understanding. 

 There is an obvious acknowledgment that our ability to understand God is limited, if not impossible, and therefore the Torah instructs us to “return to your heart,” much like a person would meditate over a concept, consider different ways of understanding something, and arrive at conclusions that are the closest thing to truth after everything else may seem to be out of the realm of reality. This is different than the way we hear people speak today where they may claim to speak “their truth” or “my truth.” When it comes to God there is ONE truth, though when it comes to God there is also a significance to what one’s personal relationship with God might be. 

 The parallel is drawn to Eliyahu HaNavi who, in his mystical encounter with God at Mt Horeb, came to the conclusion that God was not in the wind, and not in the noise, not in the fire, but in the still, silent voice. What this even means is hard for us to grasp, but for Eliyahu, in that moment in time and in that special place, it gave him to confidence to realize that God was with him and that his worries over how King Achav would treat him, even with a price on his head, were irrelevant, as Eliyahu understood where God is, and what God is and how His plans for Eliyahu would determine the remainder of Eliyahu’s life, much more than Achav would figure in that outcome. 

The concern over how one will engage with God is magnified by the ever-present concern that one’s internal inclination (one’s yetzer) might steer a person in an undesirable direction, away from belief in God. The specific words of this verse covers all arenas – God is in the heavens, controlling the planets and cosmos, and He is above all angelic creatures and on the earth, in a world in which human behavior is idealized as humility and lowliness, below the lowest depths. 

There is no other is the quintessential reminder that if someone is looking for a different being to fill that void and the capacity for a God-like figure in one’s existence, one is looking for something that simply doesn’t exist in reality, even if one may conceptualize or choose to think there is something else out there.

We must at the very least understand that our concepts of God are often informed by our experience and our age. I would imagine that for many people, their developed concept of God from when they were children is one thing, while that image evolved with their own adolescence, and further developed with the person’s aging. Some view God as an old man in the sky, some as an angry, wrathful and vengeful Deity, while others view God as the ultimate comfort and source of solace. But it is not God Who changes, but we who change on a constant basis, and therefore how we relate to Him as the Almighty, All-knowing, All-seeing also changes with our own maturity. Some people question God at many turns. Some people put stock in the statement that “for the non-believer there are no answers, while for the believer there are no questions.” 

Sometimes our perspective on God is based in our needs, sometimes it’s based in our trust in Him, sometimes it is informed by things we read. It may even sometimes be informed by our anger and frustrations. What Rav Peninim is telling us is that we should never be satisfied with an immature version of God that we may have conceived at an earlier stage of life. We must “return to our hearts” to challenge ourselves to have a better connection with God, such as one informed by the verses of the Shema which appear early in chapter 6 of this Parsha as well.

Our parsha contains what I like to call the “Mission Statement of Judaism” in all of its instruction regarding our relationship with God, and the reminders of historical events that brought Bnei Yisrael to the point they are now at in history, on the cusp of entering the Land, and shortly before the death of Moshe, the man who brought them through the wilderness, through good times and bad, through thick and thin. 

Recognizing his special relationship with God is also a great reminder of the realness of God. 

 For me personally, in the dark and contemplative moments when questions like “Is all this real?” and “how do I know this is the truth?” cross my mind, one answer I often fall back on is that there were incredibly genius rabbis, in our generations, in previous generations, who dedicated their lives and all of their scholarship to delving into the Torah, exploring the furthest reaches of halakha as a guide to living the life they believed was the absolute “Emes” (truth). If they saw and recognized the truth in our way of life, who am I, who doesn’t reach their toes, to suggest they weren’t on to something, that the wholeness and fullness they saw and experienced in the vastness of the Sea of the Talmud, and the totality of Torah development they mastered was anything other than absolute truth? 

This verse is telling us we don’t need to look to other people (though some may discern meaning and depth through such exploration!) for the truth, as the ability to discern is within us, if we only recall that אין עוד, there is no other in whom to trust or to believe, as He is the ONLY ONE.

With that fundamental concept as our starting point and stepping stone, our ability to grow in our concept of God and our relationship with Him should only see success as we raise ever higher in our personal spiritual journeys, ever reaching higher in the eternal proverbial climb up the mountain that defines our goals-set existence of reaching the greatest spiritual heights available to us in our human existence.

The Death of Bilaam

Parshat Matos-Masei

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the features of Matos is the war with Midian, and in the verse which describes the defeat of the kings of Midian, we are told that Bilaam ben Be’or was killed by the sword as well (31:8). 

Considering where Bilaam lived (on the Euphrates) (22:5) and considering that we were told at the end of Parshas Balak that Bilaam had returned “to his place,” (24:25) which Chizkuni clarifies for us as “Aram Naharayim,” what was he doing at the Midian war? 

On a very simple level, it shows the degree of Bilaam’s hatred. No matter how poetic he waxed about only saying what God let him say, the fact that he turned around after a several hundred mile trek home to engage in a battle against Israel hundreds of miles away shows clearly that he was motivated by a deep-seeded hatred for Israel. 

 The Midrash Aggada (Rashi notes this is as well) indicates that he was looking for payment for the plague that killed 24,000 as if his curse had worked. (Ibn Ezra notes his 2-way journey while also focusing on Bilaam’s intent to be paid) 

This approach is challenged by Rabbi Eliyahu Mizrachi who wonders why Bilaam would think he’d get paid, considering that he did not curse, and was viewed as a failure by Balak, the man who hired him! Regardless, since Balak was the King of Moav, why would Bilaam go to Midian for payment? He raises two possibilities: 

1. He was going through Midian to get to Moav (I don’t think this argument holds up well on a map - AB) 
2. He was going to Midian, because it was Ziknei (the elders of) Midian who had invited him, at Balak’s behest. Since dealing with Balak had been unfruitful, and now that Israelites have lost 24,000 men, it seems his efforts were successful in the end, and therefore worthy of compensation.

The Maharal similarly offers that Moav could claim they didn’t owe Bilaam anything because their motivations in hiring him were based in fear – an unwarranted and therefore not binding “purchase.” Midian, on the other hand, didn’t fear Israel at all. They were consumed by hatred for Israel, and therefore Bilaam rightly felt he was owed by Midian for his services.

Targum Yonatan combines a lot of information, and puts them all into the mouth of Pinchas who corners Bilaam and is ready to kill him when Bilaam pleads for his life saying “If you let me live, I swear I will never curse your nation again.” Pinchas responds, “Indeed you are [a descendant] of Lavan, and you’ve wanted to destroy Yaakov’s descendants, and you came down to Egypt to do so. And after they left Egypt, you incited Amalek against them, and made the effort to curse us more recently. And when that didn’t work you instructed Balak to have the women of his nation stand at crossroads to entice our men, causing the deaths of 24,000.” [This is related to a tradition that Bilaam either was Lavan or was a descendant of Lavan. This approach even suggests that Bilaam’s leg was smashed against the pile of rocks called Gal-ed, as made in a treaty between Yaakov and Lavan, and his injury was demonstrating that he was violating the oath made between Yaakov and Lavan that neither would cross that line to harm the other.] 

B’chor Shor indicates that he was invited back because even though he felt a failure when he left, the deaths of the 24,000 opened the possibility that his curse would now actually be successful as they were unworthy of the Divine’s protection. This was a serious change from when he had said לא הביט און ביעקב – that he could not find a sin amongst the people of Israel. 

 While not arguing directly, the Baal HaTurim suggests he was brought before Moshe to be executed, and not that Pinchas killed him. 

 Or HaChaim doesn’t chime in on whether he was killed by Pinchas or Moshe (or the court), but claims that Bilaam was killed before the kings of Midian were killed.

Why was he killed? If he was killed in the field of battle, then we can chalk his death up to being a casualty of war. But if he was killed in a different context, as noted by the Targum Yonatan and Baal HaTurim approaches, then his death requires a little more exploration. Sifsei Chachamim notes that the Bnei Yisrael at that time likely would not have known of his antics with Balak, and that they would not have had much of a case against him. However, since he unabashedly was taking credit for causing Israel to sin with the women of Moav (and Midian) his crime was causing Israelites to go against the Torah and, more heinously, deny God’s role in their lives. 

 Interestingly, the Chasam Sofer claims that Bilaam should have been subject to the death by plague, since that was the death that he brought upon Israel (in a middah k’negged middah way). Even though he was asking for monetary compensation, what was coming to him was actually “payback” for what he had caused (death). And yet we are told that he was killed by the sword! He answers that Bilaam was unaware that two other people had died on his account, namely Zimri and Kozbi, and because when a person is subject to two possible death penalties the person is given the more stringent one, just as they died with a רמח (a spear or long blade), Bilaam was killed with a long blade, namely a sword. 

 Netziv says he was judged and killed as a Ben Noach is put to death – with a sword. 

 Malbim raises a number of possibilities as recorded in the Talmud, including that it was Midian, and not Israel, who killed Bilaam, on account of his impertinence in asking for payment for which they felt he was entirely undeserving. He records a view that the death penalty for a Ben Noach is actually Chenek (choking) and that the death penalty as given by a monarch is death by the sword. This argument strengthens the not-by-Jewish-court argument. 

This exercise is not to come to the defense of Bilaam in any way, as his character is beyond any kind of defense, from our perspective. But it demonstrates what either hatred or greed can do for a person, even bring him into the thick of a battlefield where he gets neither credit for his claims or payment for his services, but does lose his life. 

Pirkei Avos teaches us not to be like Bilaam, and to instead be like Avraham. If Bilaam is defined by hatred and greed – and these led to his death – then Avraham stands for love and honesty + magnanimity, not wanting to harm anyone, and not looking to profit off of anyone in any way that is undeserved or that is dishonest.

What is the Bris Shalom?

 

Parshat Pinchas

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 If you do an Internet search for the term “Bris Shalom” or “Brit Shalom” and click on anything that relates to circumcision, you will discover that there are people who offer a “Bris ceremony” for a child that includes “everything but the circumcision.” The argument at hand is that circumcision is an unpleasant experience for a baby, so why not give him all the benefits of the covenant without the most painful part?  [see here, the first time that topic is addressed here]

Readers who take the Covenant in question more seriously understand that a covenant dependent on two parties keeping their parts of the deal is not a covenant if one side doesn’t keep its part of the deal. The Talmud (Shabbos 130a) tells us “All mitzvos which the Jewish people accepted with joy, such as Milah… they still do with joy…. Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says, ‘Every mitzvah that Jewish people were willing to give their lives for in a time of tyrannical oppression, such as [not submitting to] idolatry and performing circumcision, is still strongly established in their hands.’” 

All that having been said, the term “Bris Shalom” appears as a reward given to Pinchas after his killing Zimri and Kozbi, as his act of zealotry seems to be given a Divine stamp of approval, not only in his stopping the plague from the end of Parshas Balak, but in his personal life going forward. 

 Many interpret the word Shalom to mean peace in this context, but Haktav V'hakabbalah says the Covenant of Shalom refers to the word שלם - a completeness. Pinchas was now, as a Kohen, able to achieve a spiritual completeness that had previously been unavailable to him.

Last year, I shared this summary of how some of the commentaries explain this kind of covenant: 

The Bris Shalom: That he would live a long time (possibly forever) [Targum Yonatan, Seforno]; that he is untouchable, that no one could hurt him – especially the relatives of Zimri and the relatives of Kozbi [Midrash Aggadah, Rashi, Ibn Ezra, B’chor Shor, Chizkuni, Daas Zekenim]; that he is now complete as a Kohen, a status that he didn’t have earlier [Daas Zekenim, R’ Chaim Paltiel]; that he wouldn’t lose his Kehunah on account of killing someone [Chizkuni, Riv”a]. [Please note that each of these can use an expansion of explanation, but in the interest of time and limiting the length of this we will just leave those summaries for now.] 

Rav Hirsch builds the case that 

“The formation of the most complete harmony of all the conditions on earth, among one another and with God, is a Bris (covenant) and it is an absolute promise of God; God aims to bring about the realization of His promise, and the world can rest assured that ultimately it will be realized.” 

“The realization of the supreme harmony of peace is entrusted by God precisely to that spirit and to that activism which thoughtless people like to brand and condemn as ‘disturbances of the peace.’ Peace is a precious thing for which one is obligated to sacrifice everything, all of one’s own rights and possessions, but one may never sacrifice for it what God has declared to be good and true. There can be true peace among men only if they all are at peace with God. One who dares to struggle against the enemies of what is good and true in the eyes of God is – by this very struggle – one of the fighters for the Bris Shalom on earth. Conversely, one who, for the sake of what he imagines to be peace with his fellow men, cedes the field without protest and allows them to stir up strife with God makes common cause – by his very love of peace with the enemies of the Bris Shalom on earth. What saved the people was not the apathy of the masses, nor even the tears of sorrow shed by those who stood idly at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. It was the brave act of Pinchas that saved the people and restored to them peace with God and His Law, thereby restoring the basis for true peace.” 

Referencing the covenant of Shalom, Rabbi Yitzchak Arama (in his Aqedat Yitzchak) suggests along similar lines to Hirsch’s conclusion that it represents "the true wholeness of the saintly personality, people who preserve the divine image with which they have been equipped, in the perfect manner." 

 Nachshoni quotes an idea from Kosnos Or based on a passage in Kiddushin which suggests that the word שלום should be understood as שלים which means complete. This argument can get at least some traction because of the way the letter ו appears in a Torah scroll. In fact, many note that the ו in the word שלום has a break in it – it is called a ו' קטיעא, a split Vov. 

Hirsch argues that the covenant of Pinchas is שלום restored to its completeness. Where the zeal of Pinchas is required, the peace has been broken. Pinchas’ struggle is aimed at restoring true peace; he fights so that the שלום can be שלם (complete). 

 Other reasons given for the broken Vov is to indicate that a Kohen who has a blemish may not serve as a Kohen, and that the ו is broken here because it was taken from the name Eliyahu אליהו who is the reincarnation of Pinchas, whose name appears famously as אליה 5 times. In the Igra D’kala, R Zvi Elimelech of Dinov suggests that a similar thought can be ascribed to Yaakov who is sometimes written as יעקוב (instead of the usual יעקב) as if to suggest that יעקב has taken the Vov from somewhere. In reality though, a broken Vov looks like a Vov and a Yud! Yaakov’s job is to take both of those from Eisav (עשו), whose name means completely made (because he was developed and had hair), which would have (or should have) been spelled out עשוי. The Yud went to Yaakov (whose name should have been עקב because he was holding onto the עקב (heel) when he was born, leaving עשו. And the Vov, when taken, would destroy the enemy of peace forever leaving עש (which has no meaning for our purposes (though in modern Hebrew it means 'moth')). 

Pinchas is viewed as a defender of the Covenant, and is mentioned in the ceremony component at every Bris Milah. His defense of the Covenant was partially because Zimri was misusing the mark of the Covenant in his own flesh, but also because the abandonment of the Covenant by the people at the time, through their worship of Baal Pe’or, was something Pinchas could not stand idly by watching, letting it go unchecked. Our continuing to perform our side of the Covenant through circumcision is our way of saying, we don’t care what the world thinks, we value our Covenant and our relationship with God, just as Pinchas didn’t care what anyone thought in the moment he took to stop the plague, even at the cost of the lives of two people, and even endangering himself!

 We should be grateful to live in a time and place in history in which our ability to circumcise goes unchallenged by any ruling authorities. There may be people who are against circumcision, but they do not have power or sway, and their protests thankfully remain protests in their own spaces, with no influence on what we must do. 

 Pinchas’ zealotry for God and for truth is what Rav Hirsch adequately explained, so I leave us with a simple Bracha, that we should be able to stand for truth and goodness when we know with absolute certainty that we are right. And may our stand for truth and goodness be blessed with the coveted outcome – peace in all our ranks and in the world.