Yehuda and Tamar’s Relationship After Discovery

Parshat Vayeshev

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

The story of Yehuda and Tamar is familiar to regular parsha readers. Yehuda marries off his son Er to Tamar. Er dies for being “bad in God’s eyes” and so Yehuda gives the bereaved widow to Er’s brother, Onan. The Torah reports that Onan would spill his seed so as not to impregnate Tamar (hence the term ‘onanism’) so God caused Onan’s death as well. Fearing widowhood and singlehood for the rest of her days, Tamar disguised herself as a harlot on a crossroad, only to meet, by design!, one specific potential customer, her recently widowed father-in-law Yehuda, who does consort with her and impregnates her, all while being unaware of her true identity. 

 Upon discovering her pregnancy, and thus her faithlessness in (not) waiting for Yehuda’s third son, she is slated for punishment, which most assume was to be a capital punishment of burning. 

 After she produced items Yehuda had given her as collateral for payment for services, he chose to admit to what had happened, thus saving her and his babies (as she carried twins), and embarrassed himself to protect them. A question can be asked why he wasn’t immediately subjected at least to the possibility of punishment for impregnating her…? The Talmud in Sotah 10b discusses this tale from various angles (see below) [That subject is beyond the scope of this essay’s topic] 

 Yehuda’s response, upon recognizing the truth of what had taken place, is to indicate that Tamar is righteous, in fact more righteous than Yehuda was in the situation for he failed to have his son Shelah marry Tamar as promised. Then the Torah attests to us that וְלֹֽא־יָסַ֥ף ע֖וֹד לְדַעְתָּֽהּ. 

What does that phrase mean? Most would likely translate “and he did not continue to know her,” and we might even assume that the “knowledge” referred to is the “Biblical kind” which refers to marital relations. In other words, they were never intimate again. Others might suggest she was sent away – a more literal meaning of not “knowing” her means never having any contact whatsoever. This is more far-fetched however, because every indication is that her children were part of Yehuda’s family, so it is unlikely that she would have been sent away. 

Rashi offers us two possibilities: “Some say he did not continue [to be with her]. And some say he did not stop [being with her].” For the latter interpretation, Rashi uses the example of Eldad and Meidad, when the Torah says ולא יספו – which means “they did not stop prophesying.” (see Bamidbar 11:25). 

 The Talmud in Sotah 10b says: ולא יסף עוד לדעתה - אמר שמואל סבא חמוה דרב שמואל בר אמי משמיה דרב שמואל בר אמי: כיון שידעה שוב לא פסק ממנה, כתיב הכא: ולא יסף עוד לדעתה, וכתיב התם: קול גדול ולא יסף. 

 This view follows the second view of Rashi, though it uses a different source to support the idea that Yehuda and Tamar remained together. In Va’Eschanan (Devarim 5:19), Moshe describes the sound of God’s voice at Sinai as “with a great voice, which did not cease.” [Hadar Zekenim, Torah Temimah]

The first view – that they separated – is championed by many commentaries. Rashbam and Chizkuni note that the word should have a מ at the beginning – either מדעתה or מלדעתה – if the Torah were telling us they remained together. Radak offers that since their initial union was borne in a circumstance that is shameful, a hidden identity, a presumed prostitute, etc. it is not a union that can be bounced back to “normal.” Others suggest that Yehuda’s true perception of her, as a קטלנית, a woman whose husbands die, remained, and he felt the need to exercise caution. (B’chor Shor, Chizkuni) 

Ramban suggests she remained his wife – they lived in the same general space. But as it is for a yavam, who has relations with the woman just to have a child, and then often enough never again, they did not live together as husband and wife again. Rabbenu Bachaye takes it a step further, saying “He could have been with her because their union was legitimate, but he chose not to.” [See also R Eliyahu Mizrachi] 

Chizkuni (mentioned above) actually raises a number of possibilities. (Two of them are noted above)

 • They remained together, as their initial union – initiated by her, per her desire to be with Yehuda – was done per קדושי יבום. 

 • Based on the depiction of her marriages to Er and Onan, it seems neither marriage was ever consummated (which raises other questions – see R Chaim Paltiel at the end of this), which means she may not have officially been Yehuda’s daughter-in-law 

Netziv makes a fascinating point. Comparing this relationship to that of Yaakov and Rachel, he notes that Rachel was pregnant with Binyamin before the family returned to Canaan. Once they were in Canaan, the land in which the forefathers observed Torah laws, Yaakov could no longer be intimate with Rachel, based on the law against marrying your wife’s sister. Despite his plans, Leah was his first wife, and so Rachel would thus be forbidden to him when in Canaan. Similarly with Tamar and Yehuda, while, as it turns out, their initial union was done b’heter, further being with her, since she had been married to his sons, would have been problematic. (A levirate marriage of the brother of the deceased is a different story, but not with any other relative… consider the story of Ploni Almoni in the Book of Ruth, and what Chazal tell us about Boaz, after his marriage to Ruth…) 

Netziv acknowledges the view in Megillah 17 that Rachel became pregnant in Eretz Yisrael (Canaan), and notes that according to that opinion, once the marriage is concretized properly – as was done outside of the land of Canaan, it need not be revisited or ended just because they’ve moved back to Canaan.

In practice, whatever Yehuda and Tamar did is surely no one’s business. It is clear that Peretz and Zerach (Tamar’s twins) are the last children Yehuda has. Perhaps more important than whether they lived together as husband and wife after this tale is what lessons we are to take from the narrative. Yehuda’s story, as it continues to evolve, is demonstrative of a person who learns from the mistakes of his youth, who takes ownership of errant ways, and who matures over time. He becomes a great leader! 

Tamar, by and large, is viewed as a woman who came to the entire situation of her relationships in Yehuda’s family from a vantage point of kedusha, and wanting to be the mother of Malchus. Radak reminds us that this affair, and the Ruth/Boaz relationship, and how Shlomo came from David/Batsheva all serve as a reminder to the kings of Yehuda that their humble beginnings should prevent them from every lording over their subjects. 

 For us, we can take the literal meaning of ידיעה and ask ourselves what kinds of relationships we wish to have. The kind in which there is nothing more to learn about a person? Or the kind in which we don’t stop learning about our life partner? Even moreso, for those who view the relationship of Yehuda and Tamar on a spiritual level, the message of “knowledge” is in embracing how the other person continues to grow spiritually, while supporting that growth, and hoping to be blessed to join for the ride that brings each of us closer to God in our lifetimes. 

 **********************************************************************************

ר' חיים פלטיאל בראשית פרק לח פסוק כו

 וא"ת במה הצילה כ"ש בת שזנתה, וי"ל שיהודה מצאה בתולה ממקום בתולים שער ואונן לא שמשו אלא שלא כדרכן ובזאת הטענה יכול להצילה שבני נח בעולת בעל יש להם אבל נערה המאורסה אין להם. ומ"מ היאך נתעברה מביאה ראשונה, וי"ל ע"י מיעוך. ורשב"ם פי' שדרכן של בני נח לייבם בקרובים והאחים היו כלים לפיכך האב יכול לייבם ולכך ניצלה. ועוד קשה הרי אין קידושין (ט)[ת]ופסין בכלתו, וי"ל דלהא מסיק בסוטה שאמ' שיתומה הויה שגם שם פי' רש"י וקידושי יתומה אינם קידושין כי עתה אני ממאנת בו ואיני כלתו.

And Yaakov Was Left Alone

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the most compelling images in the Torah, which you can easily find in varying artistic renderings through the centuries with a simple Google search, is of the tussle between Yaakov and the “Man” during the night before the anticipated reunion of Yaakov and Eisav after so many years apart. 

The Torah introduces that struggle with the phrase ויותר יעקב לבדו, which is typically translated to mean “Yaakov was left alone/by himself,” and on a simple level, it means he was the last one remaining after everyone had crossed the Yabok safely. 

 The English translation, owing to its idiomatic interpretation, is most ironic and contradictory. Yaakov may have been the last one there, but he surely was not left alone! If someone picks a fight with you, the person is not “leaving you alone.” 

Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch suggests that Yaakov looked at the pittance of help he could honestly count on from his own people against the much larger force of the 400 men accompanying Eisav, which caused him to cry out הצילני נא, asking God to save him. He was left alone, entirely dependent on what was innate in his own personality. 

 In one of his speeches for Mizrachi in the mid 1960s (printed in חמש דרשות/ The Rav Speaks), all before the Six Day War, Rabbi Joseph B Soloveitchik spoke of Heroism and Strength, primarily through the lens of Avraham Avinu, Avraham HaIvri – who stood on one side of the world against everyone else in his devotion to the One God. Noting the lack of heroism of the Soviet leader at the time, who boasted of his missiles and thermonuclear bombs, Rabbi Soloveitchik said, “One who is truly strong has no need for heroism when struggling with his weaker antagonist. But when the physically, militarily weak presents himself to do battle with a force that is superior to him in power, in numbers and in armament, and is in a far better strategical position, he demonstrates the quality of heroic strength… When, for example, the State of Israel was engaged in struggle with all of its Arab neighbors, power was on the side of its enemies. The quality of heroism was displayed only by the small State.” 

Jewish history, he noted, is characterized by our historic-heroic gevurah existence. 

 “Since our father Abraham, we have done things which should logically have led to the worst kind of disaster. We have always been in the category of ‘All the world is on one side and he is on the other side…’ Yet despite this we succeeded in existing as ‘a people that dwells alone’ by virtue of heroism…. If you asked me, who is a Jew, I would answer, one who lives a life of heroism. In my eyes, a Jew is one who is ready to live heroically, to be always in the minority, to be able to fight against himself and against his own cold logic.” 

He veered to speak of heroism in halakhic and Shabbos observance (this was the ‘60s!) and in how people go against the tide of culture to stand true to their faith – in particular through leaving work early on Fridays, closing up shop for Shabbos, or not participating in events that take place Friday night or Saturday. And then he returned to Israel and Israelis. 

“If there is a group that has earned the right to utter the blessing of ‘who girdest Israel with strength’ with joy and pride, it is our comrades in Israel whose heroism has found expression not only within the framework of their private lives, but also in their struggle for heroic national existence, and in their demand that the State should conduct itself heroically not only on the battlefield but also in its daily life.” 

 He concluded, however, invoking the image of Yaakov from our Parsha. 

“To live a life of heroism, to fight, often alone, isolated, in the dark of night infested with horrors; to struggle against a mystical adversary as ‘And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day’ represents the content of Judaism. 

“What actually did Jacob achieve through his struggle? He did not conquer new territory, he found no great spoil he did not emerge from the struggle a world conqueror. Why did he have to fight? The answer is plain. The struggle itself sanctifies. Jewish life means a life of heroism..” 

“We must give thanks to the Creator for His great lovingkindness in bestowing upon us the possibility to fulfill, like Jacob in his time: “And there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day.’ It is a privilege, friends, to be in a minority amongst Jews, and to grid ourselves with the strength to fight for the crown of glory.” 

A few years ago, I came across an interpretation (which I could not find again, nor in my records ☹) which suggested that Yaakov’s struggle with the איש was more a prophecy, and that the real struggle he had was with himself (see here for an approach in this direction). His own worries, his own insecurities, his own unsurety of what would happen once he encountered Eisav weighed on him heavily. And however he needed to see his “victory” in order to move forward, that is what happened. For example, the name change to Yisrael – “you struggled with God and man and you overcame” – is later confirmed by God in Beit El. And the fact that the Torah tells us “he was left alone” and all of a sudden, in the same verse, he finds himself “struggling with a man until dawn” makes us wonder if there really was a man there at all, or if it was all in his head. This may be what Rav Hirsch was referencing (see above, 4th paragraph) 

Rabbi Soloveitchik’s depiction of heroism in the fifth paragraph of this essay could easily be turned, by those who would wish, to define Israel’s current enemies – the terrorists in Gaza. They are less armed, they are not well-trained, and yet they take up arms against a more powerful enemy – this would seem to be heroism! Except that the story is the opposite of the early days of Israel’s heroism. Then, as now, Israel has a Defense Force, which focuses on defending itself from enemies set on their destruction. Since Israel handed over civil governance to the Arabs and told them “We are not interested in ruling over you” and never attack the Arabs unless provoked or in self-defense, the Arabs who “rise” to fight against a stronger army that is NOT hell-bent on their destruction, they are no heroes. They are (in the fighting sense) foolish. For their P.R. and for their ulterior goals (making Israel look bad), they are geniuses. But they are not heroic by Rabbi Soloveitchik’s definition. They are cowardly terrorists who will not drop the fight and better their own lives as long as Israel exists. Which is a terrible shame. 

Yaakov’s story is the story of the Jewish people. Yaakov was left alone. Sometimes Israel has to do things necessary for their survival ALONE. They receive no support, sometimes even from allies, when they face existential threats. And yet, when is Israel is blessed to have leaders who know their “number one job” is to protect their citizens, then whatever threat looms becomes their task to neutralize. We’ve seen this in the Six Day War, with the destruction of Iraq’s nuclear program in 1981, with the destruction of Hezbollah’s arsenal, with the destruction of Syria’s military capabilities in the last week, and other such examples. 

 Rabbi Soloveitchik reminded us that the story of the Jewish people is to be left alone on one side, against everyone else on the other side. That is our struggle, and how we overcome it is our heroism. 

As Bilaam said, however, “They are a nation who dwells alone.” We know his curse was in fact a blessing. May that blessing be true, that just as we naturally dwell alone, all those who are counted as enemies of the Jewish people should find the strength to help us live up to our creed, and just leave us alone – no matter where we are throughout the world.

Two Thefts, Exodus, and Survival

Parshat Vayetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Chapter 31, verses 19 and 20, present two thefts. The first is Rachel “stealing” her father’s terafim. The second is Yaakov “stealing” Lavan’s heart in that he doesn’t tell him of his departure from Lavan’s home, with his wives, children, and his belongings. 

Were these really both "thefts" in the traditional sense of stealing? Or is there a different kind of message being conveyed, despite the language of stealing being employed.

 Most of the commentaries in the Mikraos Gedolos Chumash focus on Rachel’s deed, ignoring Yaakov’s “theft” simply because Yaakov’s is clearly a figure of speech, but is not a crime, whereas Rachel actually takes objects that belong to her father. 

 And yet, those who do comment on Yaakov’s deed note that the “deception” here is simply that Yaakov was not up front with Lavan about his plans, while he understood that Lavan’s own take on Yaakov’s wealth acquisition was not coming from a good place. Note, of course, one need not be up front about one’s plans with someone who has made every effort to indicate he is an enemy. 

 Some even point out the language of the Torah – “he did not tell [Lavan] that he was fleeing (כי ברח הוא).” This is where Lavan (after-the-fact) felt that Yaakov had been dishonest. However, had Yaakov actually told him of his pending departure, it would hardly be viewed as “fleeing” and more “we are leaving.” So of course he didn’t tell Lavan that he would be ברח – fleeing. 

Regarding Rachel’s thievery – the Torah is clearly telling us about it because it is to become significant in a few verses, when Lavan accuses Yaakov of “stealing my gods,” and after Yaakov allows him to search all of the family belongings, we are told that Rachel hid them in her saddlebag. 

 Rashi famously notes, based on Lavan’s accusation mentioned in the previous sentence (31:30) that Rachel was taking her father’s idols hoping he’d abandon his idolatry. 

But most of the other commentaries have a different take on the identification of the terafim based on other Biblical precedents of the use of terafim, sometimes even by people we would never accuse of idolatry! 

Rabbenu Bachaye is the most comprehensive in his presentation of many views of the Mikraos Gedolos Chumash, where the most common emerging theme (and argument) is that the terafim were used for sorcery and witchcraft, particularly to help Lavan in his divination, figuring out things of past, present, and future. To give the most obvious reason, she took them so her father would not know when or that they had left! We see this effectively work, because it took three days for Lavan to discover they had left. 

 Ibn Ezra notes, for example, that if they were idols, why would Rachel keep them? She’d throw them away or bury them somewhere. That she holds on to them demonstrates that she recognizes their use and doesn’t feel they need to be discarded. The fact that Lavan later accused the theft of “stealing my gods,” in this view, is insignificant. Lavan is not a stranger to exaggeration and hyperbole. He may feel that his terafim have God-like powers, even if he doesn’t personally worship them. 

This leads us to consider the precedent setting nature of the Exodus from Lavan’s home, and how similar it is to the Exodus we will later see from Egypt. 

In both cases, the Bnei Yisrael leave, men, women and children. In both cases, their leaving is described as בריחה, fleeing, even though we could certainly argue there are better verbs to describe their exodus. While there isn’t a clear timeline in the Exodus from Egypt, our rabbis have taught us that on the third day after the Exodus (just as it was the third day here – see 31:22), Pharaoh gave chase, and the confrontation between the two sides took place on the seventh day. 

 One need think no further than the comparison made in the Haggadah between “who is worse? Pharaoh or Lavan” to understand that the Torah is telling us something significant about these two events. Perhaps even that the 400 years of exile promised to Avraham could have taken place in Lavan’s house, an that method of leaving was meant to be one in which the Israelites had a choice, at any time, to go, if only they could muster the courage to leave. 

 Which is why when they leave, in both cases, they are accompanied by great wealth. 

 Remember that when the Bnei Yisrael left Egypt, the verse tells us וינצלו את מצרים, which, loosely translated means they drained Egypt of its wealth. This is the same reaction Lavan’s sons have in 31:1 when they accuse Yaakov of stealing all of their father’s wealth (never mind how his flocks multiplied under Yaakov’s care!), and making his fortune on the backs of their father Lavan’s misfortune. 

 Which just means that this playbook is as old as time. 

Rachel’s theft, more than likely, was a survival instinct, to protect herself, her husband, her co-wives, all of the children, from the wrath of her father. It’s something anyone would do when running for their lives: break the radio, cut the phone lines, disable the vehicle that would be used to chase after, lame the animals that might be chasing, etc… 

Yaakov’s theft isn’t a theft at all. It’s a demonstration of the regret that could take place over the loss of what “could have been” if the other side had looked past the jealousy and seen the humanity. 

It’s reasonable to suggest there’s a parallel that can be made between the ideas presented above and the current situation in Israel. Accusations of theft (stolen land, stolen country) are smokescreens for the larger issue of not taking charge of your own destiny. 

 Just as Lavan left the shepherding to Yaakov and wanted to reap all the benefits, and Lavan’s sons felt the same way, when Yaakov’s wealth grew and they saw the cash cow dripping dry, they blamed him rather than blaming themselves for doing no work and expecting to draw all of the benefits. 

 This is the philosophy of those Arabs who have rejected every “two-state solution” because they just want one state – all of Israel – to be their caliphate home. And they want everything Israel has accomplished and built to be theirs, because, well, they deserve it! (this is tongue in cheek, in case unclear) 

As far as Rachel is concerned, if as noted above, she was looking out for her family because she knew what her father was capable of, then it’s not thievery at all. In fact, what she did was a mitzvah of protecting yourself from harm. 

And that is the mitzvah that Israel today faces – protecting yourself before your enemy comes to get you, their intention always being that this is for the last time.

Diplomacy and Cold Peace is Better Than Open Hatred

Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Some of the commentaries suggest that Akedat Yitzchak was, in some way, a reaction to what took place immediately before it in the Torah, the treaty that Avraham made with Avimelekh. That treaty, in which Avraham ceded some of the land promised to him by God, was a treaty Avraham, arguably, had no right to make without God’s instruction. As a result, this approach offers, he was challenged to wonder what the promises to him were worth if he would be tasked by God to take his son’s life. 

All that at least being a possibility, one wonders why Yitzchak would make the same mistake. 

Truth be told, Yitzchak’s similar encounter with Avimelekh is, on the one hand, not really a treaty. Secondly, he is bound by the treaty that his father made. Despite that, Yitzchak does have grievances over how he was treated by Avimelekh’s people, particularly since there had actually been a treaty between Avimelekh and Avraham’s family (note: Avimelekh might be a title similar to Pharaoh, so he might be dealing with a different person than the one Avraham dealt with). 

Yitzchak doesn’t make a treaty (Bris) with Avimelekh, as Avraham did (21:27). After wondering why they are coming to make peace with him after they had sent him away in light of his financial successes and their subsequent jealousy, their response to him is they saw that God is with him and decided it is better to be “with him than against him.” 

So he serves a meal to them – a common way to celebrate an agreement (see Daas Zekenim 25:34 and his interpretation of the food Yaakov fed Eisav at the time of the transaction of the Bechora/firstborn rights) – and they part ways. 

 Some of the commentaries note the disparity, though they are complimentary towards Yitzchak for ultimately being so accommodating. 

Alshikh: When they sent him away they didn’t make a meal for him, despite his being a “baal bris” (essentially a peace partner) with Avimelekh on account of the treaty with Avraham. Nevertheless, Yitzchak serves them food and accompanies them at the time of their departure, in a manner that they did not do for him. 

Netziv: He made a meal for them, as is the ways of the righteous to appease with ease, and to be open to those who wish to make peace. 

Chasam Sofer, on the other hand, notes a subtlety in the language, that Yitzchak sends them away בשלום and not לשלום. He notes Yitzchak’s kindness in feeding them, despite their “hatred” towards him (based on Mishlet 25:21), while also noting that when you depart from someone in a positive light the blessing is לך לשלום, but when departing from an adversary, the parting is בשלום. 

So which one is it? 

Perhaps more than anything, Yitzchak is teaching us what diplomacy can look like. When people are adversarial, while at the same time acknowledging existence and that there may be good and admirable qualities in their adversary, there is merit to having a cold peace, and even one that in public looks like we’re getting along. 

 Feelings behind closed doors are just that – behind closed doors. 

 Far more important than the inner feelings is the way we actually treat each other. 

No matter how Yitzchak truly felt, the image he conveyed is one who is kind, appeasing, and accepting of letting bygones be bygones, certainly within the realm of the public eye. 

 Even Chasam Sofer’s comment notes a subtlety that most people wouldn’t even pick up on – it’s Yitzchak’s way of giving a blessing, while perhaps quietly still harboring a small grudge, one that he keeps to himself while looking like he is getting along. 

 It is the way of the righteous to not harbor grudges at all, which is why that is the messaging of Netziv and Alshikh. Perhaps Chasam Sofer is acknowledging that even the righteous are human, and that they have a way of coming across publicly as taking the high road, while not completely disregarding their feelings, a completely understandable human stance. 

 For one’s own psyche, in general it is best to move on from difficult relationships, to forgive in one’s heart, and to let go of the anger and the past. 

However, we can acknowledge that that is not always so easy, and therefore to do our best to play the diplomacy game, while airing our grievances to ourselves, in the privacy of our own space so it not negatively impact anyone. Negativity brings everyone down. Positivity has a way of lifting others – even when they aren’t involved at all – because the image of peace between people who disagree conveys a vision for what the world can look like, despite natural differences between humans who may come from different cultures, have different sensibilities and values, and different ideas of what is best for everyone. 

In Yitzchak’s case, Avimelekh came to make peace after difficult interactions. That step, when genuine, indicates a need to move forward together. It is what happened with Israel and Egypt, Israel and Jordan, and is what we all hope to see with Israel’s other neighbors. That will bring a different kind of hope for the world, when the goal to eradicate Israel is gone, and everyone can work to better themselves without worrying about what their neighbor is planning, and what kind of dark future they envision.

Avraham's Children (and daughter?)

 Full transparency: I had already decided on this week’s topic, when I accidentally came across an article entitled “Did Avraham Have a Daughter?” - https://www.israelnationalnews.com/news/399547 Thankfully, my research did not include the author’s main source (Rav Hirsch) so here we go. 

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Rabbi Baruch HaLevi Epstein (in his Tosefes Bracha) notes the passage in Yevamos 62a that the mitzvah of reproducing (פרו ורבו) is to have a son and a daughter (according to one opinion) – so the parents essentially replace themselves. Avraham focuses on finding a wife for Yitzchak, which based on his analysis (which includes Baba Basra 141a, Bereshis Rabba 60, and Tosefta Bechoros chapter 6) that a wifeless father should usually find a wife for himself before concerning himself with his son finding a wife, unless he has already fulfilled the mitzvah of פרו ורבו. Therefore, the only way Avraham could concern himself with finding a bride for Yitzchak is if he, in fact, had a daughter as well – thus there is good reason to believe he had a daughter, even though the text makes no mention of one. 

 As noted here Seforno is of the opinion, based on Divrei HaYamim I 1:28 that Avraham only had two sons, Yishmael and Yitzchak, and that the 6 children of Keturah (ibid 1:32 and Bereshit 25:2) were hers from a previous union. Seforno describes Avraham as “raising her children” as he compares the situation to Michal bat Shaul being credited with giving birth to 5 children to Adriel (her sister’s husband) (Shmuel II 21:8), while a different verse tells us Michal never had children (Shmuel II 6:23)! Just as she raised her sister’s children that she didn’t birth, Avraham raised Keturah’s children that he did not father. 

 Before we even get to chapter 25 in Chayei Sarah, however, we are told at the beginning of chapter 24 that וה' ברך את אברהם בכל – God blessed Avraham בכל (typically translated as “with all” or “with everything”). The blessing of כל is a strange language, because it is highly unspecific. Obviously Avraham was not gifted all the wealth of the world. He couldn’t have been given “everything.” Perhaps it could mean he was given all he needed. Ibn Ezra notes he was given long life, wealth, honor, children – which is what makes for a “complete” life. Ramban expands on that noting that all he was missing was grandchildren so he put the steps in order to find a bride for his son. 

 Rashi notes that the word בכל has a numerical value (gematria) of 52, which is the same as בן, a son. This would imply that having Yitzchak is a fulfillment of the blessing being described. 

 The Talmudic discussion on this verse (Baba Batra 16b – an expansion of the passage noted above by Rabbi Epstein) is recorded by Ramban and Rabbenu Bachaye, and while the Talmud goes on to give other interpretations of what Avraham was blessed with, we’ll focus on the discussion surrounding how the blessing of בכל relates to children: Rabbi Meir says the blessing of כל is that he did not have a daughter. Rabbi Yehuda says he did have a daughter. Acherim said he had a daughter and her name was בכל (Bakol). 

 Ramban explains their thinking. Rabbi Meir understood that had there been a daughter she’d have to be married to the cursed Canaanites. And even were she to find a husband from his homeland, she’d undoubtedly only find herself attached to idolators, since the woman would follow the husband’s lead, and so Avraham was complete in not having a daughter, because of the challenges that would have posed to her at that specific time in history. Rabbi Yehuda felt he nonetheless had a daughter, because that is the complete blessing for parents, to minimally have a son and a daughter. Acherim gave her a name, based on the verse. 

 To quote Rabbenu Bachaye, “Ramban explained the deeper meaning [of Acherim’s interpretation], and expanded upon it far more than necessary…” 

Rabbenu Bachaye explained Acherim’s perspective in this way: They’re not teaching us whether he had a daughter or didn’t have a daughter. It’s not talking about a physical matter. It is a matter of the soul or spirit. 

 Based on Kabbalah, Avraham achieved a “middah” (quality) that is called כל, and anyone who achieves that is blessed in heaven and earth. When Acherim said he had a בת, what they meant was he had a quality, based on the word בת in the verse which describes the measurement of the Temple’s washbasin - אלפים בת יכיל – which means it contained two thousand measures. He had a “middah” (בת), and its name was בכל, and its from the larger blessing of הכל which God gave him. בת references the Bet Din of God. When it says וה' ברך, rather than ויברך ה' (two different ways of suggesting God blessed…) it refers to a kind of spiritual gift, rather than a physical one. 

 As he notes, however, Ramban expands upon this significantly, noting the following (translation from Sefaria, which is the translation of Rabbi Chavel). Even though Rabbenu Bachaye says he overdid it, it’s worth looking at. 

“Acheirim established a new interpretation on this verse, a very profound matter, and they explained with it one of the secrets of the Torah. Thus they said that the word bakol hints at a great matter, namely, that the Holy One, blessed be He, has an attribute called Kol (All), so called because it is the foundation of everything. It is with reference to this attribute that it says, I am the Eternal that maketh ‘Kol’ (all). And this is also what Scripture says, And the profit of the earth is ‘bakol’ (in all), that is to say, the profit of the earth and the abundant goodness that is bestowed upon all that come into the world is on account of this attribute Kol. It is the eighth attribute of the thirteen attributes. And there is another attribute called bat [literally “daughter”] that emanates from it, and with it He moves everything. This is “the Court of the Holy One, blessed be He,” that is hinted at in the word, Vahashem (And the Eternal), in all places. It is called kalah (bride) in the book of The Song of Songs because it is comprised of hakol (the All), and it is this attribute which the Sages have surnamed Knesseth Yisrael (the assembly of Israel) in many places because it is the gathering of hakol (the All). It was this attribute which was to Abraham as a bat (בת) because he was the man of kindness, and he conducted himself in accordance with it. This was why Acheirim said that this blessing with which Abraham had been blessed in all things does not allude either to his having begotten a daughter from his wife Sarah, as Rabbi Yehudah said, or not, as Rabbi Meir claimed, but instead it hints at a great matter, i.e., that he was blessed with an attribute called bat (בת) which is contained in the attribute Kol, and is therefore also called Kol, being analogous to the expression, For My name is in him. Thus Abraham was blessed in heaven and on earth. This is why he said, By the Eternal, the G-d of heaven and the G-d of the earth.” 

Owing to there really being no evidence in the text or the narrative of the Torah of Avraham having a daughter, and the likelihood that it was the Bris Milah, and the Bris Milah alone, which allowed for Avraham to have a single child with Sarah, and afterwards that same possibility dwindled, with Avraham being described as having aged, the view that the Talmud’s presentation of a בת meaning something other than a daughter, as kabbalistically explained by Ramban, makes a lot of sense. So why would R Yehuda or Acheirim even make the suggestion? Perhaps they thought people would understand the reference, and that the בת in question was a symbol of the experience of the lifetime of Avraham Avinu. 

We can certainly chime in on the debate as to whether Avraham had a daughter. If he did, for all purposes she is lost to our history. Either way, nothing changes, except the question of whether Avraham fulfilled his mitzvah of פרו ורבו. Since whether people have children is in God’s hands, the Talmudic sentiment of whether one fulfilled the mitzvah is not about a number of children, or how many males or females. It is rather best answered with one of the questions noted in the Talmud Shabbos 31a as to what a person will be asked at the heavenly tribunal – “Did you involve yourself in reproducing?” In other words, “Did you marry and try? Did you make an effort?” The Talmud is not saying one will be asked “What was your result?” 

Because, after all, the effort is in the human realm. But the Talmud (Niddah 31a) notes there is a third partner in the creation of a human being, God. And arguably, God is the deciding factor. 

For Avraham and Sarah, they certainly involved themselves, and they were singularly blessed with Yitzchak at a very late stage of life through a very serious intervention by God. Whether or not there was a daughter, they could admirably answer the question of “Did you involve yourself…” with a resounding “Yes. We made the effort, and the rest was in God’s hands.”

Doing Righteousness and Justice - Learning from Sodom

Parshat Vayera 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Parshas Noach usually raises the question of what Noach’s “righteousness” was – in his generation only? Would he have been considered righteous in a different time period? – and the comparison is often made to Avraham, who defended wicked people. 

The Torah does not report on Noach advocating on behalf of the people of his time, nor does it present him as trying to get others to turn or return to God. 

Avraham advocates on behalf of the people of the five cities – Sodom, Amora, Admah, Tzvoyim, Bela (Tzo’ar). And he clearly walks around the land calling out in God’s name, letting the people know of the existence of God. 

 The many stories the Torah tells us of Avraham indicate a man who is prominent, at times wealthy, who communicates with outsiders (not co-religionists), who cannot be ignored. 

 One of the more telling moments of this is when Avimelekh, who had an unfortunate run-in with Avraham after taking Sarah to his home (in chapter 20), later comes to Avraham to make a peace treaty after the birth of Yitzchak (end of chapter 21). Perhaps the best argument, which is advanced by Chizkuni and others, is that now that Avraham has a child, and therefore will leave an heir and a legacy, he can’t be ignored as a fly-by figure. He too has a future. 

This is likely what inspired Daas Zekenim to record the following insight in God’s “deliberation” over whether to share what He is about to do to Sodom with Avraham. The way the Torah depicts it, as the angels are leaving Avraham’s home to head towards Sodom to save Lot from the pending destruction, and to initiate the destruction of Sodom, God says “Will I hide from Avraham that which I am going to do? And Avraham is to become a great and mighty nation, and through him all the nations of the land will be blessed. I know about him that he will instruct his children and his household after him, that they will keep the word of God to do righteousness and justice.” (18:17-19) 

Daas Zekenim records the following: 

 [God was saying] “… were Avraham to not be having a child in the future, I would not reveal to him the judgment of Sodom. What merit is there in telling him of their judgment if he is not going to have a child to whom he can impart the lesson? But Avraham will become a great nation… and I know about him…. And therefore I will tell him about Sodom, for I know that on account of the reckoning that the wicked will undergo, Avraham will instruct his descendants to guard the path of God, and to do righteousness and justice.” 

This tells us not only that God “believed” the promise He had given Avraham, but that He was counting on the sincerity of Avraham’s convictions. Knowing Avraham as God knew Avraham, clearly the messaging was that Avraham was the kind of person who could look at objective evil, take stock of the situation, and decide what to learn from everyone, and what to not learn from everyone. 

More than anything, Avraham will teach his children to learn the lesson from what happened to Sodom, and how all efforts he made on their behalf came to naught. 

What did Sodom do wrong? 

• They were רעים וחטאים לה' מאד – they were very evil and sinful to God 
• They were nasty to guests 
• They had no respect for their judges 
• They verily and readily practiced Sodomy (which is obviously named for them) 
• Throw on top of that all the terrible things they were guilty of which is not in the text of the Torah. 

 God is sure that the path Avraham will teach his children is of righteousness and justice. He has already demonstrated how to bring guests into his home. Avraham has the greatest respect for the שפט כל הארץ, the ultimate Arbiter and Judge in the universe. 

 After advocating on their behalf, Avraham came to the realization that if there aren’t even a minyan worth of decent people in the cities, then there’s not a chance for Torah teachings or Godly principles to prevail. More than that, because the destruction of Sodom will become so embedded in his mind, he will instruct his children so they never fall prey to that kind of behavior, and they’ll always go in the opposite direction of the behavior of the people of Sodom. 

This, therefore is our challenge: 

Whether from our own readings or from other perceptions, we must be able to weed through the good and the bad. Maybe a lot of it is obvious, but sometimes we don’t notice what is taking us away from our goals and our important Godly pursuits. [Think of just about every form of media...]

Avraham knew goodliness is worth saving if it is supported by numbers. One of the beautiful aspects of being part of a Jewish community is that ideally we all have lovely people we can look to and admire. Far more than ten people! 

We can also look to see how others relate to their fellow man and either emulate that (assuming it is good behavior!) or take the lesson of how not to relate to others. For instance, being rude, obnoxious, confrontational, yelling in public – all of these are not good traits. When we see them, our job is to distance from those traits all while preaching, teaching, and modeling the opposite! 

Not everyone has children – so this is not about what we are sharing or choosing to share with the next generation. But it is about seeing that EACH OF US is a child of Avraham. 

Our takeaway from this narrative is that each of us is meant to live a life modeled by that which Avraham stood for. If we do our main job properly, we are indeed fulfilling that which God said about Avraham and his descendants. “We live a life following the dictates of righteousness and justice.”

Bondage Makes For the Greatest Bond of the Ages

Parshat Lekh Lekha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the great conundrums we face in understanding the history of our people, going back to Avraham Avinu, is why there was a need for exile? If God wanted Avraham’s descendants to inherit the land He gifted to our forefathers, why not just have it start with the birth of Yitzchak, with some kind of blueprint that as the family grows, they will spread further and further from the center, ultimately occupying the whole land, as promised? 

Perhaps it does not take too much imagination to see that things don’t necessarily work that way. Even in the recent election we saw how Americans have very different ideas as to what direction the country should be headed (to use a bland cliché). Even after only 250 years, the “United” country seems very “divided” over a number of issues. There is a Constitution, which some look at as the founding document behind which all future laws must be scrutinized. Others see it as a living document which was good in its time but needs to be rewritten for the realities of our times. 

The parallel is actually not very good, because truth be told, the US Revolution from England and the ratification of the Constitution is more parallel to the Exodus and the giving of the Torah (obviously – with all the differences of peoplehood and the Torah’s Divine source). But there is what to be said about the similarities of anyone being able to become an American, and everyone being able to become a Jew – provided certain civic responsibilities (all mitzvos for the Jew!) are affirmed and ideally adhered to. 

The Bnei Avraham (later Bnei Yisrael) would have been one large tribe that had spread across the land, but would not have much in common save their shared ancestry. 

So, on a simple level, they needed to have a shared experience of hardship (the degree would be in the hands of their oppressors to decide how far they’d take it), and then have the shared experience of the Exodus, followed by Revelation at Sinai, cementing a shared set of values that would become eternal, and that would define our people throughout history. 

So why did Bnei Yisrael have to go to Egypt? Couldn’t this have happened somewhere else? Perhaps not as oppressive? It is obvious that the promise made to Avraham that “Your descendants will be strangers in a strange land where they will be oppressed and enslaved for 400 years” refers to this exile. But the degree of slavery is not included in the promise. And even the strange land is not identified! So why did it have to come about in this specific way? 

Abravanel rejects a number of suggestions as to why they went down to Egypt, such as “a punishment to Avraham” or “to prime their hearts to be ready to receive the Torah” instead favoring that God told Avraham about it because God sees the future, and the venture down to Egypt was completely a measure for measure response to the brothers and Yaakov for their treatment of Yosef. The way Yosef gets down to Egypt and becomes the viceroy is all so clearly Hashgachas Hashem (God divinely orchestrating), in Abravanel’s eyes, as he proceeds to outline: 

 “It makes more sense to attach the ‘reason’ to the tribes, Yaakov’s sons, because the Torah testifies about them that they sinned a terrible sin on account of their sinat chinam (baseless hatred) of their brother Yosef. This includes their planning to kill him when he was simply looking to seek out their welfare, their throwing him in a pit, and their selling him to Egypt. And even if Reuven wasn’t at the sale, he participated in the hatred, and even advised. Later he said “We are guilty over our brother, in that we saw the suffering of his soul when he pleaded to us, and we did not listen. This is why this difficulty [referencing hot the Egyptian potentate Yosef was treating them] has come upon us.” (42:21) Since they all sinned, proper justice is that they should receive their punishment. And since they sinned with Egypt, in selling Yosef to be a slave there, they were deserving of themselves being stricken in Egypt, [eventually] becoming slaves there, them and their children and grandchildren, for many year, just as Yosef was exiled there, along with his children and descendants. 

Since they cast Yosef (שהשליכו) into the pit, their children were cast into the river היאורה ישליכוהו. Because on their account Yosef went down to Egypt, it was on his account that they all came down to the exile in Egypt. Since it was while they were shepherding sheep that Yosef visited them and they did their vile deed, the sheep were used as the excuse for why they had to come down to Egypt “For there is no pasture for our sheep in Canaan.” (47:4) 

Of course, Yosef was also to blame for becoming haughty over his dreams. But Yaakov also sinned through giving Yosef a special cloak (causing jealousy), and in sending Yosef to check on the welfare of the sheep, all while knowing that his brothers hated him.

This is why Yaakov and Yosef were included in the punishment of exile, since they were not blameless, however, since their sin was more negligence, they didn’t suffer as much as everyone else.” 

To summarize why the family of Yaakov (Bnei Yisrael) ultimately ended up in Egypt:

 • Sinas Chinam against Yosef

 • Plans to kill him when he is seeking their peace

 • Throwing him in a pit

 • Selling him as a slave to Egypt

 • Having no empathy for the position they put him in

 • Measure for measure

     o They cast Yosef in the pit, their sons were cast in the Nile

     o They sold him as a slave to Egypt so they became slaves to Egypt

   o Because their deed happened while taking care of sheep, sheep would be their main concern bringing them down to Egypt

 • Yaakov and Yosef put a “stumbling block” before the blind by sending Yosef to Shchem – into the lion’s den of hatred. While they all went down... Yaakov and Yosef alone merited that their remains were brought up to Canaan (while the text does not indicate anything similar happened to the remains of the brothers, the rabbis indicate all were brought out – see, for example Makkos 11b) 

Perhaps one can suggest that ultimately, since the number of years they were in Egypt was 210, that the actual years of slavery were around 120, based on the years of Yosef’s life, and the assumption slavery didn’t start until after the death of Levi. There is also an assumption made that Yosef was in Potiphar’s house for 1 year before he was put in prison, and that he was therefore imprisoned for 12 years, a period far worse than the excellent way he was treated in Potiphar's house. If 10 brothers are in a way responsible for Yosef’s descent to Egypt and eventual imprisonment, and he was in prison for 12 years, then 10x12=120... 10 consecutive sentences of 12 yrs each and you have 120 years of slavery. The 400 years, as noted, begin with the birth of Yitzchak – long before any descent to Egypt, and a number of commentaries claim that the actual Bris Bein HaBsarim took place out of order from how it is presented in the Torah, when Avraham was 70, based on the verses which indicate the Exodus was happening at the conclusion of 430 years (Shmos 12:40-41) 

The descent to Egypt was meant to cleanse the Bnei Yisrael of sin, and to remove from their hearts the kind of hatred that might cause one to sell a brother into slavery. Once the time of the sentence had passed, they were ready to face their destiny and become united as a nation forever through Revelation and receiving the Torah. 

The Torah has defined our people for thousands of years. Along with the covenant, the Torah is the main reason we are still here, after many other nations and empires have disappeared, and it is how we survived when all else was bleak. But it was the experience of exile that paved the path for Teshuvah, and for a nation to survive forever, as promised to Avraham Avinu. 

May we be so worthy to always see the success and growth of the Jewish people through the fulfillment of the Covenant!

Tzohar – Illuminating Where There is Darkness

Parshat Noach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the early instructions given to Noach is to make a “Tzohar” for the Ark. What is Tzohar? While many people are likely familiar with what Rashi says (which we’ll get back to), it is interesting to note that Rashi’s presentation (though he’s really noting different opinions) is not exhaustive. 

The discussion surrounding what Tzohar (spelled צהר) means is based in the question of what the original Hebrew refers to. For example, צהרים refers to the light of midday, as even in modern Hebrew, whether one is לפני (before) the צהרים (in the morning) or אחר (after) the צהרים (afternoon) is a clear distinction in time that is based on High Noon. Does צהר come from צהרים? 

 The Gemara in Sanhedrin 108b says it does! צהר תעשה לתבה, אמר רבי יוחנן: אמר לו הקדוש ברוך הוא לנח: קבע בה אבנים טובות ומרגליות, כדי שיהיו מאירות לכם כצהרים. Rabbi Yochanan explains that God told Noach to take precious stones that would illuminate like the day (צהרים). 

Rashi’s summary notes two views of what צהר means, either a window (as noted) or a precious stone that illuminates – both of which are meant to have us understand that צהר refers to some kind of light source. 

 The second interpretation Rashi mentions is harder to connect to a root word – after all, צהר does not mean a stone! Rabbi Ovadah MiBartenura suggests that the word צהר is equivalent to זהר (which means light, or illumination), based on a very simple principle in Hebrew that allows for equating letters that are formulated using the same part of the mouth – in this case, זסשר"ץ. [Anyone familiar with his style could predict that Rav Shimshon Rephael Hirsch would do the same thing – and he does!] He even extends the interpretation beyond זהר, suggesting that a זהורית is actually the name of a precious stone which illuminates!

Rashi’s summary, however, is not precise, as there are questions which need attention. One window? More? One stone? More (like the Talmud says)? What kind of stone? Is there any significance to the stone? 

To the last question, Targum Yonatan suggests that Noach was told to go to the “Pishon River” (see Bereshis chapter 2) and procure a special stone from there, specifically for the purpose of illuminating. R’ Yaakov Kaminetsky pointed out that this particular river was noted for the special stones that could be found there (2:12) – the Bedolach and the Even HaShoham. 

Midrash Aggadah – like the Talmud – refers to many illuminating stones that would “give light for them like daylight.” The Midrash there also offers a second opinion referring to a single window through which Noach would be able to see what was going on outside. 

 R Levi in the Pesikta offers that it was a window in which he’d hang precious stones (expanding on what we’ve seen until now). When the light illuminated them, he’d know it was daytime; when they were dull, he’d know it was nighttime. (This leaves unclear where the root צהר fits in.) Why he couldn’t just look at the window – without any stones – is not made clear, unless the window was translucent, and not transparent. 

Ibn Ezra notes the possibility that there were a number of stones (the text just doesn’t go into that kind of detail), but he also jumps on the words ואל אמה תכלינה מלמעלה to note that a single stone would have been rather large – 1 cubit by 6 cubits. Noting that the word צהר comes from צהרים (in Tehillim 91, and as we’ve seen), he also opens the door to it coming from יצהר, which means oil, a fuel commonly used for illuminating dark places (to state the obvious). He also rejects the notion that some suggest, namely that the צהר is the opening of the Ark referred to in the same verse. 

 Radak, in noting the three options thus far presented (window, stone, oil), shows a clear preference for the oil interpretation, saying ובאמת הכין נח שמן לנר בהכינו כל צרכיו, under the assumption that a window was otherwise above them (some kind of skylight), which would likely be useless during the 40 darkened days of rain, as well as at night.

Chizkuni also mentions the יצהר (oil) connection, while suggesting (as does Malbim) that any window would have been protected by some overhang, and would have hardly been used to allow light in, but would be used more for allowing the birds to be sent out later on. 

 Ro’sh offers two gematrias, that צהר (295) equals לאור האבן – to the light of a stone (Baal Haturim says this one too, based on the Gemara quoted above). Or that צוהר (spelled with a ו, now 301) equals אור חלון – the light of a window. These are meant to support the opinions Rashi records, while not specifically picking a side. 

 Bringing together all of the opinions noted thus far, Rabbi Baruch HaLevi Epstein, in his Torah Temimah, compares Noach to Lot and his wife, who were told not to turn around on account of their being unworthy of seeing the downfall of the people in Sodom. Similarly, Noach is presumed to be worthy to himself be saved (along with his family) but not to see the wicked of his generation meet their doom. 

 This view follows the opinion of R Yochanan that is דורש לגנאי, that says Noach was only a צדיק in comparison to those of his generation. 

The goal of any illuminating stones would only be to give light to those who are inside. A window would allow (minimal) light in, but would also allow those inside to see what was going on outside. The “minimal” note in the previous sentence is simply because he doesn’t feel that one window would do much, when considering how large the Ark was. Were there an actual window (per that point of view), Torah Temimah writes, there would have been a need for MANY windows, and the notion of the word being used in the singular would be no different from when Yaakov said in the singular (at the beginning of Vayishlach) “I have an ox and a donkey,” or when the Torah describes the plague of frogs, noting that “a frog” came out of the river. 

 It is the insight of Torah Temimah which “opens the window” for our own takehome lesson. 

 The jury is out on Noach as to whether he did all he could or didn’t do enough to save the people of his generation. Surely, their being doomed to die in a flood was God’s choice, but the question is always whether there might have been a chance to reverse God’s decree. We know from the story of Yonah that the people of Nineveh were given that choice and that chance, and they changed their ways to produce an outcome in which they were not destroyed. Could Noach have had that same success? We don’t know, as we don’t know what he did, or whether it could be considered sufficient. 

But we do know that he was told to make a צהר, and virtually everyone agrees that in some form or another, he was instructed to have light in the Ark, and that light was because there is a need to prepare to be able to illuminate the darkness. 

 When we speak of light, and when we refer to darkness, we are not preparing for a flood. But we have to take the instruction given to Noach, and ask ourselves how we are preparing to illuminate. Are we bringing light to those who are experiencing darkness? Are we doing what we need to in order to bring ourselves out of the darkness we are experiencing?

Whether it is support for people suffering in Israel, or those on the ground who can help those in need – that is one kind of light for the darkness. If we are at a standstill in our relationships, taking important steps to rekindle the flame of connection, whether with a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling – that is bringing light to the darkness. And if it is in our relationship with God which feels stale, bringing in Torah, re-embracing the experience of Tefillah, reading about it, wanting to challenge oneself to rise and to grow, that too is bringing light into darkness. 

Noach was told צהר תעשה – which literally means “You must make the Tzohar.” No one can do it for you, Noach. You must make it happen yourself. 

Surely there are others who are capable and willing to be of help. But ultimately, the Jew knows that our existence is defined by each of us taking personal responsibility for where we are individually headed. A community is an amazing resource! But in the end, אין הדבר תלוי אלא בי means that I must take the bull by the horns, and create my own light – to shine on others, and to illuminate my own path in the road of life.

Bringing the Children Along

Parshat Nitzavim Vayelekh 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 On the rare occasion that I need to make a late-night run to Walmart for some odd or end that we need, while I am (hopefully) obviously going out on this errand by myself, I marvel at how there are sometimes families, with very small children, at the store at the same time. And we’re not talking about the single mom who has no other choice but to bring her children – these are families with two parents present along with their little children. 

 It's not for me to judge, and I certainly don’t say anything. But I imagine that were I to ask, the answer I’d get from the parents is “We had to do this errand together. Do you expect us to leave our children home by themselves? What do you think we are – irresponsible?” I don’t want to get into an argument, so if my guess of an answer were to turn out to be true, it is certainly better that they take their children than leave them home by themselves. I understand that it’s very hard to get a last-minute babysitter. (Nevermind that you could have done what I did – but I guess some items that get picked off the shelf need a discussion in the store…😇) 

We have a unique commandment in the Torah that only applies one time every 7 years, and that is the Mitzvah of Hakhel, the gathering of the entire Jewish nation in Jerusalem on the holiday of Sukkos attached to the Shmittah year. 

Quick aside: Rashi and Rabbenu Bachaye say it was in the Sukkot immediately AFTER the Shmittah year, at the beginning of the 1st year of the new cycle. Targum Yonatan and R Yosef Bkhor Shor say it that it is after 7 years from the last Hakhel, in the actual Shmittah year – at a time when people don’t need to tend to their fields and gardens, they can all afford to go to Jerusalem. Ramban in Parshas Reeh (chapter 15) makes it quite clear that we “pasken” like the first approach that says Hakhel would take place on the Sukkos immediately after the Shmittah year ended. 

The mitzvah in question is for “the nation to gather, men, women and children.” (31:12) To what might seem an obvious question – the men and women will each get their own benefits from the national gathering, but what will the children get out of it? – Rashi notes (based on the Gemara in Chagigah 3) that the purpose of bringing the children was for their parents to get the reward/merit (שכר) for bringing them. 

 That doesn’t seem to benefit the children. And, to be honest, if the parents are all going because they are required to go, then just like the people I see in Walmart, do we expect they’d leave their children home alone while they make the trek to Jerusalem? Of course they’re going to take their children along. They don’t have a choice! So why is this a Mitzvah? In Yalkut Ha’Urim, the author suggests the obvious answer, the famous teaching of Rabbi Chananya ben Akashiya. “God wanted to give merits to the Jewish people, and so He gave them many mitzvos…” If the adults have to bring their children anyway, they may as well get the merit of fulfilling a mitzvah while doing so. Fair enough. 

This leaves us with the question of what the children would get out of coming to Hakhel, especially if they are too young to understand what is going on, and too young to appreciate the role of the king, of the Torah being read, of the grandeur of all of the nation being there. The Torah explains their role, in 31:13, as “listening and learning to revere the Almighty.” 

The Sfas Emes explains, demonstrating a clear understanding of the realities of children, that there is an ideal (they will listen and learn to revere God) and then there is reality, that they’ll be running around, playing games, not paying attention, missing the point entirely. And so, looking at Rashi’s comment, he says it is more important for the parents to be present and distracted by their children – because at least the children are in attendance and in this incredibly inspiring atmosphere, the memory of which (simply being there) they may carry more than what they might have gleaned from listening to the Torah being read or any speeches, most or all of which they likely would not remember. 

The Sfas Emes concludes the thought suggesting that in general, adults should be willing to sacrifice their own fulfillment and growth in order to teach their children or be sure to it that the message comes across to the next generation. 

In a different comment on this section of the Torah, Sfas Emes emphasized the holiness of the atmosphere which can have an indelible imprint on the Neshama (soul), an impact which is invaluable, something that we can never actually put a price on, as it may be carried to realms we could never foresee. 

Rabbi Yehoshua was a great example of this – not specifically from Hakhel, but all the time – as his mother would bring his cradle to the Beis Medrash in order that he would be exposed to the sound of Torah study from a very young age (Yerushalmi Yevamos ch 1, 8b). Undoubtedly that contributed to his becoming the man he became. 

 I recall once hearing a story about two great rabbis who came to an elementary level yeshiva to give a talk and a faher (oral quiz) to the students. The event included lunch, and after the meal, their regular Rebbe apologized to these great rabbis that as part of their approach to Chinukh in the yeshiva, the boys sang the Birkat Hamazon (“Bentching”) together. These great rabbis did not hesitate – not only did they not accept the apology, but they sang the Bentching along with the boys. Is this an example of their sacrificing their own “kavvanah,” perhaps their own scrupulousness and degree of concentration, to sing a memorable melody of the Birkat HaMazon along with children? Absolutely. But do you know what? Not only was it a beautiful message to the children, that these great rabbis “bentched” with them, but it also gave great strength to the children’s Rebbe to see value and merit in what he was doing regularly, sacrificing his own “bentching”, so the children would learn it, remember it, and be trained to make Birkat Hamazon part of their own mealtime routine. 

We must always remember that the presence of children in any Jewish environment, whether shul or a gathering, is a blessing. If sometimes their presence seems disturbing, it is much more important that they feel comfortable in places like shul, than that they feel unwelcome or not desired. 

 In Hakhel, it was run-of-the-mill. The kids were there, but their attention may have easily been focused elsewhere. 

 The parents got the most out of the experience as they could, but they also saw that their children had a memorable shared experience with family, seeing themselves as part of the Bnei Yisrael, in an inspiring setting they could recall in their long-term memory as a defining moment in their development as members of the Nation of Israel.

The Blessing WITH You

 Parshat Ki Tavo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Chapter 28 begins with 14 verses of positivity and blessing leading into the long “Rebuke” which is known as the Tokhacha. In those 14 verses, we find the following message. יְצַ֨ו ה' אִתְּךָ֙ אֶת־הַבְּרָכָ֔ה בַּאֲסָמֶ֕יךָ וּבְכֹ֖ל מִשְׁלַ֣ח יָדֶ֑ךָ וּבֵ֣רַכְךָ֔ בָּאָ֕רֶץ אֲשֶׁר־ה' אֱ-לֹקֶיךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לָֽךְ: 

 Artscroll’s translation is “Hashem will command the blessing for you in your storehouses and your every undertaking; and He will bless you in the land that Hashem, your God, gives you.” 

 Another translation, from Chabad.org’s online full-Tanakh-with-translation is: “The Lord will order the blessing to be with you in your granaries, and in every one of your endeavors, and He will bless you in the land which the Lord, your God, is giving you.” 

A more accurate, direct translation would read, “God will command/instruct with you blessing in your אסםs (barn, granary, storehouse?) and in all of your hand’s endeavors. And He will bless you in the land that ה' אֱ-לֹקֶיךָ gives/is giving you.” 

Loose translations tend to aim to give a message, though they are always a commentary because they have to make a choice at how to explain the language of the text. An accurate translation sometimes purposely leaves things vague because the text is vague! 

 One word which is lost in this mix of translations is אתך, and the attempt at translating that word is highlighted in bold in each version of the verse above. Most would certainly argue that אתך means “with you,” though what that phrase means depends on its context. 

A number of interpretations suggest that it references a partnership with the Almighty. 

 Peninei Torah: Blessing comes upon something that ‘exists.’ [God doesn’t make miracles from nothing for anyone.] Just as a pasuk promises (Devarim 15:18) that God will bless you in all that you do, the key is that “you” have to be “doing something.” If a person is sitting with clasped hands waiting for God’s blessing to come without making any kind of effort (Hishtadlus) the blessing can not come upon a person. “God will instruct for the blessing to happen אתך, only with your participation in making things happen.” 

Based on a verse in Iyov 22:28, the Rabbis taught that if a righteous person declares something, God will make it happen. Two examples are Yehoshua calling on the sun to stay put until the battle in Givon was over, and Eliyahu declaring the flour will never run out. And thus Kli Yakar said that if you are a righteous person instructing for Bracha to happen, God will command for it to happen and agree with you for the blessing to come true. 

  HaKtav V’Hakabbalah: It almost seems as if the blessing “exists” and God commanded for it to be “with you.” However, that would make more sense if the verse actually read as יצו עליך. Therefore he is of the opinion that the “command” is one that goes back generations to when the blessing was first attached to our forefathers. God is essentially including the blessing with you, causing something made long ago to cling to you as well. It’s not a new blessing, it is one that drafts you into it with time. 

 Rav Hirsch also pins the blessing on a person who is taking initiative. 

 When we consider what it means to have the blessings of God upon us, we would do well to realize that there is a partnership in place. Yes, we want God to provide for us and to give to us and to protect us. But He wants something in return. He doesn’t want us to be content with freebies and handouts and being given everything on a silver platter. He wants our effort, our struggles, our participation in following through with the ideal life He has laid out for us in the land, which requires our buy-in as well. 

This is true of every aspect of Jewish living. 

 Whether it’s growth in Torah – we don’t grow from just sitting back and listening to a lecture or shiur. We have to be “all in” in our effort to study, to learn, to understand a text or a topic. 

When it’s spiritual growth – we don’t grow from simply listening to others or sitting in the back (so to speak) with an open siddur. We need to apply ourselves to the task of getting to know ourselves, what our needs are, and how much we are willing to invest our energy and resources in improving our spiritual connection to God. 

 The same can be said about every effort one pursues or wants to pursue. Noone becomes a good athlete from sitting on the sidelines and watching everyone else play. One needs to practice and improve and challenge oneself. 

The message from the Torah and the word אתך is that God WANTS THIS PARTNERSHIP. If we can only want it as well and put in the effort that will aid in our own growth, we will be blessed with God, with a partnership with the Divine that is the envy of the world, one that makes us closest to Him in this world.

Returning Lost Objects, Finding Our True Selves

Parshat Ki Tetze 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet

When counting per parsha, Ki Tetze has the largest number of Mitzvos in the book of Devarim, and in all of the Torah! Some of them have been seen before in the most Mitzvah-prolific parshas such as Mishpatim and Kedoshim, and some have been counted then as Mitzvos, and some are only counted here as Mitzvos by the Sefer HaChinukh. Perhaps the easiest reason for any repetition, in general, is that Moshe is speaking to the next generation, and is reminding them of some of the more important things he has taught over the years while also focusing on the instructions that will fare them best when they enter the Land of Canaan and begin building a new society there outside the realm of the partially supernatural living they’ve experienced in the wilderness (Manna, special water sources, pillars of cloud and fire, etc.) 

 One mitzvah which appears in two places is regarding the returning of a lost (and therefore found) object. In Devarim 22:1 the verse says that “You shall not see the lost ox or sheep of your brother wandering and let it be. [Rather] you should return them to your brother.” The word brother here means “your brother in observance” or “your brother in Mitzvos.” 

In Mishpatim (Shemos 23:4) the verse says “When you bump into the ox or the donkey of your enemy [and realize it is] lost, return it to him.” 

While the verse speaks of a lost animal, Sefer HaChinukh titles the Mitzvah “To return a lost object to an Israelite” and goes into detail about how the mitzvah includes any lost items, and that the purpose of the mitzvah is to promote neighborliness and to encourage people to seek out the owners of things that have been lost to set things aright. The specific laws are discussed in Bava Kama and Bava Metzia and concern where the items were lost (such as a particular market or a particular building, rather than a very busy thoroughfare), if they can be easily identified (losing a single dollar bill wouldn’t count, while losing a stack of bills in which you know the exact amount could be more easily verifiable, or losing a more unique object, especially if it has identification markers on it), and if the owner has hope of ever getting it back based on all the circumstances (if found in the sea, for example, we can assume the owner gave up hope, even if it has a name on it). 

The Internet has proven a fascinating resource for helping men who’ve misplaced their Tallis and Tefillin (such as on a train or in an airport) be reunited with them, since the Hebrew name, often enough with a last name, is usually on the bag! 

The question is asked, however, why does Mishpatim refer to the person who lost the animal as “Your enemy” while in our parsha the person is “your brother”? 

Rabbenu Bachaye essentially argues that the Torah is presenting on a spectrum. It could be that when finding an object the finder may realize that the item belongs to someone s/he does not like and may be inclined to think “Forget about it. Why should I go out of my way for that person?” Or it is unclear to whom it belongs, and the finder may feel “Why should I go out of my way for a stranger? This person is wasting my time!” As we know, that kind of attitude already puts the one who lost the item in a negative light in the mind of the finder. Therefore the Torah is teaching that returning an object gives the finder a different perspective, especially when the owner receives the property back and is genuinely grateful. The message is for the finder to remove those negative feelings, so by the time the returning of the object or animal takes place, the owner is already viewed as a friend. 

 Meshekh Chokhmah presents a different perspective. The Talmud (Pesachim 113) asks a simple question: Is one even permitted to hate? Doesn’t the Torah say “You shall not hate your brother in your heart!” (Vayikra 19:17) He answers that a person could come to hate one’s Jewish brother having witnessed the person sin, prior to the event of the Golden Calf, because at that point Bnei Yisrael were referred to as a “Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation.” Someone who sinned was considered to be one who was tainting that special mission, and could therefore be considered an enemy. 

 However, now in Devarim, after all of Israel participated in sin, even minimally, one does not have the allowance to simply hate someone for sinning. Instead, a person’s responsibility when seeing another person sin, instead of judging the other, is to examine one’s own deeds. 

 Am I perfect? Am I careful about every mitzvah? Am I flawless in the way I go about doing the things I do? 

Since the answer to these questions is typically “No” (unless the person IS a perfect tzaddik or tzadekes, which is rare), we are forbidden to hate the other person. Instead we should focus on the things we don’t like about ourselves and aim to improve upon them. 

This is where Teshuvah can fit in as it reminds us that we are imperfect (which is ok, since we are human), and that instead of looking outward at others, we ought to look inwards. 

 One simple way to improve is to seek out to help others. 

See something on the floor? Pick it up! 

Does it belong in the trash can? Throw it out! 

Does it belong to someone or is it unique enough that it could be identifiable by its owner? Try to return it! 

Going to the store and have a neighbor who doesn’t drive or who is immobile? Offer to shop for them! Or offer to take them to the store. It may take a few extra minutes, but a Chesed is worth all the time we have. 

See someone struggling with their purchases, loading their car? Offer to help or just help with a smile! 

See someone distraught over losing something? Help! Retrace steps. Look everywhere possible. 

Being there for others is one of the most human-training activities we can engage with. When we get a thank you and a compliment it feels great. But even if we don’t, knowing we did our part to help also feels good, and helps us see that people aren’t necessarily bad. Sometimes they are just misunderstood. And sometimes a little careless. And sometimes a little forgetful or eccentric. Which means they have plenty of good qualities… the onus is on us to see the good qualities and chalk up the qualities we don’t like to their being uniquely human in their own way. 

 Like everything, how we view others and their lost objects says a lot about our outlook on the world. If we can find the positive, we will be positive. If we live with a positive outlook on life, we will find the positivity in others. 

 Hopefully we aren’t too hard on ourselves in the process, as we recognize our own flaws as a work-in-progress, while aiming to improve through the life long task of Teshuvah and being more wholesome and good in God’s eyes. And by extension, in the eyes of Man.

The Holiness of Avoiding Milk/Meat Combinations

 Parshat Re'eh

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One theme of Parshas Re’eh focuses on the rules of what an Israelite may and may not eat. We see this first in chapter 12 when we are told about when we may come to eat from certain vows and offerings in “the place God will have chosen” (the place of the Temple in Jerusalem), such as during holidays or really throughout the year. The middle of the chapter speaks of eating meat as part of offering, the rules related to the (non)consumption of blood (12:16, 23-27), and how to eat meat outside of the context of offerings (12:20-22). 

Observing these rules, following a theme of Devarim, is למען ייטב לך (so it will be good for you) (12:28). A similar sentiment is conveyed at the beginning of chapter 14, that you are a holy nation, and you are God’s treasured people (14:2) – and this is the lead-in to the rules of Kosher, as in “which animals you may consume and which animals you may not consume.” Some animals are defined by certain characteristics (split hooves and ruminant is a kosher quadruped, fish need fins and scales), while there is a list of the non-kosher birds. Unfortunately the identity of the birds listed is debated, thus we only eat birds that have a tradition of being kosher. 

Towards the end of the rules of kosher animals, there is a rule that upon scrutiny, says less than we commit ourselves to: “Thou shall not cook a kid (baby goat) in its mother’s milk.” (14:21) This is the 3rd iteration of these words, as it also appears in Shmos 23:19 and 34:26 - where in both cases it is preceded by a law referencing how to prepare the Korban Pesach, and the specific verses enumerated both read: רֵאשִׁ֗ית בִּכּוּרֵי֙ אַדְמָ֣תְךָ֔ תָּבִ֕יא בֵּ֖ית יְקֹוָ֣ק אֱ-לֹהֶ֑יךָ לֹא־תְבַשֵּׁ֥ל גְּדִ֖י בַּחֲלֵ֥ב אִמּֽוֹ. I once heard it argued that because the previous verse references Pesach, and the first part of this verse references Bikkurim (first fruits), which is largely associated with Shavuos, that the idea of not cooking the kid in its mother’s milk relates to Sukkos, which always follows the dry summer season in Israel, when water reserves may be closer to being used up. The idea of reminding people in the context of Sukkos not to cook a kid in its mother’s milk is a way of saying not only that such a notion bespeaks of a terrible kind of cruelty, but that one should have faith that God will provide all the water you need, so there will be no need to resort to cooking the meat in the milk. 

Anyway, while the verse clearly says not to cook the kid in its mother’s milk, it does not say “if someone else (such as a non-Jew) cooks it, you may not eat it.” There is no mention of a prohibition against eating a combination of meat and milk! [See joke in the comments or at this link - sharing the link only for the joke]

Yet, every kosher-food consumer knows that we do not mix dairy and meat. And this is the source for that. How so? The Mishnah in Chullin (8:4) articulates the position that the repetition of the phrase is the source for the idea that not only is cooking forbidden, but benefiting from it, including eating from it, is also forbidden. (See Sifsei Chachamim on our Parsha, and his referencing Rashi in Mishpatim. See also Ramban on this verse 14:21) Baal HaTurim equates the gematria (numerical value of letters) of לא תבשל (“thou shall not cook”) – 763 – with the value of איסור אכילה ובישול והנאה (“the prohibition of eating, cooking, and benefiting”) – 764 (in gematria you can be off by one and it is considered equivalent) suggesting an allusion to the triple-prohibition in the words prohibiting the cooking of a meat/milk combination. 

 Interestingly, the Talmud makes it clear that this prohibition, according to the Torah, only applies to domestic farm animals (goats, sheep, cows), but not to wild animals (such as deer, gazelles) or birds. Rabbi Akiva extends it to the kosher quadrupeds who produce milk for their offspring (mammals) but not to birds, who do not produce milk. Thus the non-mixing of dairy with chicken or turkey is a later-than-the-Torah invention, primarily to avoid confusion in the ‘meat’ of creatures who are slaughtered. (And it is irrelevant in fish, who do not produce milk and are not slaughtered for consumption.) Which is why one of my kids has been campaigning to “Make Chicken Pareve Again.” For some reason, this has not caught on yet. 

The commentaries on the verse in our parsha touch upon much of this with added insights, particularly because the context here has nothing to do with the holidays and is a simple nod to the general notion of what it means to practice the laws of kosher eating: כִּ֣י עַ֤ם קָדוֹשׁ֙ אַתָּ֔ה לַיקֹוָ֖ק אֱ-לֹהֶ֑יךָ לֹֽא־תְבַשֵּׁ֥ל גְּדִ֖י בַּחֲלֵ֥ב אִמּֽוֹ, “for you are a holy nation unto God, don’t cook the kid in its mother’s milk.” 

Following the passage in Chullin 114a that compares the verse regarding not eating treifah animals, which is included with the verse ואנשי קדש תהיון לי (you shall be holy people unto Me), and the verse here regarding cooking the meat in the milk, which is included alongside כי עם קדוש אתה (“for you are a holy nation”), and concludes that both products are therefore forbidden for consumption (even though, as noted, we are not explicitly told regarding milk/meat that “you are forbidden to eat it), Torah Temimah notes how this is a much easier passage to learn the prohibition on eating a milk/meat combination than the 3 mentions of not cooking them together. 

But HaKtav V’Hakabbalah takes this comparison of the charges to "Bnei Yisrael to-be-holy" to another level.

Asking why in the context of Nevelah (a carcass that died in any manner other than a proper slaughter) the word used is Kadosh, and in the context of Tereifah (an animal that contained an internal wound in the heart or lungs) the word Kodesh is used, Rabbi Mecklenburg notes that the concept of Kedusha is emphasized in Parshas Kedoshim as being selective in how much one enjoys certain permissible life pleasures, such as: engaging in marital relations at the right times and intervals, minimizing one’s wine consumption, distancing oneself from becoming tameh to the dead, guarding one’s mouth and tongue from overeating and over-engaging in idle conversations, going above and beyond when it comes to one’s personal honesty when engaging in commerce with others… This is all considered the lower level (perhaps baseline) of what it means to live a life of Kedusha. 

 Taking things a level up, we have a person who elevates one’s personal holiness through disengaging from ALL physical pleasures. Meaning, even when engaging in the activities modified above, one is not ever participating in the physical activity for the sake of pleasure, but from a place that is intellectual and spiritual, focused solely on how to use that activity as a vehicle for serving the Almighty. 

 The lower level of Kedusha described here is measured in quantity. The higher level of Kedusha described here is measured qualitatively based on how the person disengages the spirit from any partnership with the physical. A person who exemplifies this quality is referred to as a Kadosh. As such, the phrase אנשי קדש uses the word Anshei, which is presumed to be a relatively small collection of individuals (rather than the words implying a group of a national level – such as עם or גוי) because the group that achieves that level of kedusha is presumably smaller. The phrase Anshei Kodesh is attached to the prohibition of the Tereifah because that particular prohibition includes a warning regarding Kodshim that they’re not to be taken outside of the Mikdash area, as if to tell the person to look and contemplate: an animal is a lower level in creation, and if you refer to it as Kodesh, the Kedusha imposed upon it (as a Korban) goes through its entire body, to the point that you can’t get any kind of benefit from it outside of the realm of its Kedusha, unless something happens that causes its desanctification (such as a wound rendering it a tereifah). 

And if that is the case with an animal, which has no inherent holiness unless we impose it upon the animal, imagine the human being, who is already imbued with holiness, how much more-so should we be aiming to spread and enhance our own kedusha through every fabric of our being… 

As to why there is a prohibition on eating even though the Torah isn’t explicit about that, Rabbi Mecklenberg goes on to distinguish between two goals of eating: the pleasure that comes from the actual eating – texture, taste, etc, and the benefit that comes from how the food is processed in the digestive system, spreading nutrients throughout the body. Noting that the way the body internally processes the food can be considered a kind of bishul (cooking), he suggests that the Torah doesn’t use the words “Don’t eat” in the context of mixing meat and milk because for some people (especially if they’ve worked on themselves), they might get no pleasure from the act of eating, but would want the benefits that come once the food has made its way to the stomach (he has an interesting suggestion that ואפשר דלשון אסטומכא הוא מלשון מצטמק ויפה לו – the word “Stomach” is related to mitztamek which is part of the process of cooking). Therefore the prohibition on “cooking meat in milk” can be actualized if the milk and meat were to go down into the stomach together, which is another “reason” why eating the mixture is prohibited. 

 Some people may identify with the image of the cruelty of cooking a kid in its mother’s milk (and by extension any meat in milk). Some people may think there is a health concern. For some, the attaching of a “charge to be holy” to the prohibition of combining milk/meat aims at helping us achieve holiness in a way we may or may not fully appreciate, but nonetheless raises our spiritual essence. 

 May we always either find meaning in our efforts, or nonetheless reap the benefits of holiness from our activities, especially when God (or Moshe) promises that the undertaking is למען ייטב לך – that it is for your benefit.