Time, and a Plan, Make All the Difference

Parshat Chukat

by Rabbi Avi Billet

It’s incredible what time can do to a person’s maturation process, in how a person deals with adversity. O – and how having a strategy can also help a person cope with the curveballs of life.

Of course, not having a strategy is what separates the proverbial “men from the boys” in seeing how people deal with life-challenges “in the moment," when a plan can’t be put into effect because no plan exists.

In Bamidbar 20, we see a situation that we’ve seen before: the people complain because they have no water to drink. In the past, we’ve seen Moshe’s response to this kind of complaining has spanned from crying out to God (Shmot 15:25) to getting into a fight with the people (Shmot 17:2) to thinking he was going to be killed (Shmot 17:4). And after the infamous rock incident in this chapter (20), we’ll see Moshe ignore the people completely in 21:5-6 when they complain about lack of water again.

So what is the strategy that is so helpful to Moshe in Bamidbar 20? The strategy is what we saw in two places in last week’s Torah portion. The first was in 17:3-5 when Elazar was instructed to hammer out the copper fire pans and attach them to the altar “as a sign and remembrance” to people who are not Kohanim not to encroach into places they do not belong. The second was Aharon’s blossomed staff that was "to be placed near the Ark to serve as a testimony to those who rebel." (17:25-26)

We do not see challenges to Aharon’s role in the Torah, nor do we see challenges to Moshe’s role, on par with Korach’s rebellion. But we do see similar affronts to Moshe’s leadership when there is no water. And here, unlike at the last episode in Shmot 17, we watch as the water dispute does not lead to a fight between Moshe and the people.

Instead of taking the complaint personally, as he did in the past, Moshe knows all he needs to do is produce Aharon’s blossomed staff, the symbol that is meant to put down insurrection and stop rebellion, and the people will remember what happened with Korach, and they will back down.

And that’s exactly what happened. God tells Moshe to take out the staff, which turns out to be the one that was “before God as God had commanded him” (20:9)

And the strategy would have worked, had Moshe not felt the need to say what he said in 20:10. Because all that was needed was the sign/symbol and the people would have looked, seen the staff, and remembered to back down. This should have been the result of Moshe's having grown on the job, having had the experience of time lead him in the direction of non-confrontation, as well as God's plan to rule the day.

So what went wrong here?

Moshe followed God’s instruction, but he let his emotions get the better of him. Even the best-laid strategies can’t cover for every contingency plan.

One major difference here is that while the people fought with Moshe in Shmot, it is clear here that they are fighting with God (20:13) (this may help us understand why the complaint in Chapter 21 goes in the direction it goes, with the snakes unleashing God’s wrath against complainers).

There is no question that had Moshe followed the plan of bringing the staff out and showing it, waiting for the people to process what they were to glean from seeing it, this story would have panned out differently. But when Moshe chastised the people as well, with all the implications his words included, his fate was somehow sealed.

We need to have plans for the challenges life will present, hopefully with the ability to anticipate the twists of any circumstance. People who have aging parents, or parents with declining health need to have a plan. While it is not easy to decide where a person wants to be buried, making such decisions (and paying for them in advance) eases a tremendous burden off of loved ones. What happens in the case of an unanticipated accident – where do the children go? How are they to be raised? Who will take responsibility?

Can each spouse manage alone – because inevitably one person will be widowed? Is there a plan for how to cope, how to deal with the loneliness? Will children be involved in keeping the widowed parent occupied and looked after when that time comes?

Part of the problem Moshe and Aharon faced in this story is that they seemed unprepared for the death of their sister. Remember that she died immediately before this story, and Alshikh notes the devastation they were dealing with at the time that the people came to complain about lack of water. 

Even the most exceptional human beings have weak spots. Moshe’s planning did not anticipate his weak points – the loneliness that came from the loss of his sister, the inability to let God’s strategy of showing the staff work itself out, and the inability to restrain himself from giving a rebuke at the same time as he was giving water to the people.

May our lot be to create strategies for challenging times and to implement them in the most effective ways.

B'Terem - The Drama of Immediacy

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The word “Terem” or “B’Terem” (‘just before’) appears in the Torah close to twenty times, sometimes serving as a dramatic preposition enhancing a narrative tale, setting the stage for the unfolding drama that is most riveting.

                

“Terem” Lot’s guests  were to retire for the night, the people of Sedom gathered at Lot’s house. (19:4) “Terem” Avraham’s servant finished speaking his condition/prayer, Rivkah emerged. (24:15,45)

                

Yitzchak instructed Eisav to prepare food for him, so the son could earn a blessing “B’terem” his father dies. (27:4) Yitzchak finished eating Yaakov’s food and completed his encounter with Yaakov “B’terem” Eisav returned with his prepared meal. (27:33)

                

The brothers saw Yosef from a distance, and b’terem his arrival, they plotted to murder him. (37:18)

                

Yosef’s two sons were born b’terem the famine years arrived. (41:50) Perhaps the drama here comes in the added drive given to Yosef to succeed in his food storage endeavors – the survival of his children.

                

Finally, in our parsha, when Yaakov learns that Yosef is alive, he declares “I will go and see him b’terem I die.” (48:28)

                

Judging from Yitzchak’s estimation of his own death, we can see that while the premonition of death runs in the family, the estimation of time until departure is typically way off. Yitzchak lived another 57 years, and it will turn out that Yaakov will live another 17 years.

                

So why did these men think they were going to die? Rashi says (27:2) that when one gets to within 5 years of the age of death of a parent, one needs to begin setting one’s house in order. It is a good litmus test for one’s survival. Since Sarah lived to 127, Yitzchak’s mortality radar started blinking at 123.

            

The Midrash also tells us in a number of places (see Tosafot Yevamot 61b) that Rivkah lived as long as Kehat. Since he lived to 133 (Shmot 6:18), clearly Yaakov’s mortality radar screen was similarly blinking when he was 130.

                

But is that really what’s on his mind? He seems a lot more pessimistic than merely thinking about his mother’s age of demise when confronted with his age-question by the curious Pharaoh.  (47:8)

                

Considering that Yaakov has thought Yosef to be dead for 22 years, it was never his intention to hold out on giving up on life until he saw Yosef again. So what is a proper explanation for his stating “I will see Yosef b’terem I die.”  Clearly he thinks he is about to die for other reasons, and seeing Yosef is now going to be a bonus in what has otherwise been, in his own words to Pharaoh, “'The days of my life have been few and hard.” (47:9)

                

Some of the commentaries say Yaakov meant, “Though my years have not even come close to those of my father and grandfather, it’s been a rough life.” Radak takes this to mean that Yaakov was worn out. He felt weak and had a premonition that his days were numbered.

                

Yaakov was a man of truth. And the truth is that he suffered from the debilitating mind-game that overtakes people who have given up on life. I had a conversation this week with someone whose father recently passed away, and he told me that his father was an avid traveler who never thought about how old he was until he had a mind-shift that told himself, “I’m old.” This man felt that as soon as his father focused on his turning 90, that was the beginning of the end. He told me of a woman he knows who is 107, but lives every day to the max. Her age is not a focus of her existence. Because her focus is on her life, and not on how much closer she is to the grave.  This was certainly true of Alice Herz-Sommer, the pianist Holocaust survivor  (subject of the documentary “The Lady in Number 6”) (see embedded video at the end), who passed away this past February at age 110. What an amazing attitude she had – her age was irrelevant to her.

                

The drama unfolded by the word “B’terem” shows us that Yaakov was literally at death’s door. He had sold himself down the river. He was done with life. But the news of Yosef’s success gave him a new sense of purpose, so much so that he didn’t even realize that he had given himself a new lease on life. In 45:27 we see that Yaakov’s spirit was revived. And in 45:28, he still thinks he’s about to die.

                

But the shift has reversed itself. Yaakov, in his heart, and perhaps in his mind as well, is looking forward to seeing Yosef. Looking forward to hearing the story, whatever story he’ll hear. Looking forward to meeting any grandchildren he may have. But as he’s making the shift, he has the sense of urgency, the sense of immediacy, that death will come very soon on account of every other factor of life that has brought him to this point.

                

The hope is that all people in that later stage of life can tap into an urgency of finding amazing things to live for. The mind game that says that at 75,80,90,100 “I’m just getting started!” can hopefully provide a very necessary ingredient and attitude (and “chiyus!”) that will lead to good health and mindset as seniors embrace the different stages of the second half of life.

Getting Rid of the Evil Among Us

Parshat Ki Tetze 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 From the one time in Re’eh to the three times in Shoftim to the five times in Ki Tetze, the Torah tells us nine times to eradicate evil – “Uvi’arta hara” – from either amongst you, or amongst all of Israel.

 It would seem that in most of these cases, as well as others in our parsha, the Torah is advocating for a death penalty kind of punishment for those who are either guilty of a crime, or are in violation of a mitzvah.

 Most people I know would have much less of a problem with capital punishment for truly evil people, such as murderers and terrorists. This is likely true in times of peace, but is even more true during times of war when the swift justice of war eradicates evil people.

 But for sinners?

 We are all sinners! Why would we advocate for these death penalty punishments, or any kind of corporal punishment, when the laws which trigger these punishments are so easily violated? I have seen Sharia law advocates explain that the law is meant to be a deterrent, and that the message of “they will hear and they will fear” will serve as the inspiration to create a moral society as we weed out the bad apples among us. Even if this works in theory, the lack of compassion, and the lack of a soul in the hands of the executor of "justice" is so anti the civil society we have accepted as tolerant and (acceptably) liberal.

 The problem with applying the literal presentation of the Torah's laws in our parsha as "the way the Jewish society was" is that the court system always required witnesses and warnings. And if the warning was not issued in the proper fashion (let alone if it was not issued at all), or if there were no witnesses, or if the witnesses did not fit the necessary criteria or were somehow disqualified (such as if they were related to one another or to one of the claimants), the court case is more of a spectacle than an effective system of punishment. The corporal punishments the Torah describes are immediately thrown off the table.

 Understanding to which crimes and sins specific punishments were appended requires a careful reading of Devarim chapters 17-24. But all of the cases in question come with Talmudic caveats. The rebellious son never existed. The betrothed daughter at that specific age was never unfaithful. Warnings. Witnesses. Etc.

 How then is a just society created if the court system has its hands bound and can’t carry out the law?

Two elements come into play in a society living under God. Firstly, monetary cases are decided by the courts. Documents always had to have witnesses. Legal jargon may not have been what it is today, but the paperwork was there. And courts could decide between he said-he said cases, even in the absence of witnesses.

 The other element is God’s role. The God fearing individual reads the Torah, understands the gravity of the worst sins described in the Torah, and makes a conscious choice not to violate, and to otherwise live a holy existence, to the best of one’s ability.

 Otherwise, between the punishment known as “kares” (which has many possible manifestations) and “misah bidei shamayim” (death at the hands of heaven), the courts would put certain punishments in the hands of Heaven. Imagine the otherwise guilty party (minus the necessary proof to actually convict) walking out of court with the judges saying, “Good luck because you’re going to need it. God is going to get you.”

 What will it take? A car accident? A slip and fall? A heart attack? Or, in those days, perhaps getting gored by an animal running amok? Precisely.

 I am not suggesting that the victims of tragedies like these in our day are being punished for indiscretions. Even if they were guilty of certain sins (after all, aren’t we all?), in most cases it was private, and it was certainly never adjudicated in court. More likely they were not even remotely guilty of the sins of the magnitude described in our parsha. How then do we explain why tragedy struck?

 We can’t. And those who think they know the answers are fools and should be shunned. Sometimes we don’t know and can’t understand the ways of God. Saying things like “it was his time” and “God wanted it this way” are the wrong things to say to people who are filled with questions.

Two final points. I read an opinion piece in Haaretz this week that suggested that as we have evolved from the punishments described in the Torah and no longer practice “an eye for an eye” and capital punishment, we should also consider getting rid of Bris Milah, as the author suggested, “Ritual circumcision is the only act of physical harm that remains.”

 The author’s misunderstanding of the corporal and capital punishments aside (most of which were either monetary compensation to victims or impossible-to-enforce capital punishment), he completely misunderstands what Bris Milah is all about. The Covenant is not viewed as a punishment. It is a gift from God. The act of circumcision is an act of faith that has been adequately addressed by Rabbi Akiva almost two thousand years ago. (Midrash Tanchuma Tazria 7) 

 Finally, we are to understand that as much as society “evolves” the Torah’s truths remain. The punishments described for the heinous crimes and sins are meant to illustrate just how badly these specific violations tear apart the fabric of our Torah-guided society.

 Our goal is to weed out sinners. And we do that through educating sinners not to sin. May we all become experts in Torah knowledge so we can not only continue to enhance our wonderful society, but be a light to the world for how to treat our fellow man.

When Death Brings Atonement

Parshat Chukat 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

"…They came to the Tzin Desert, and the people stopped in Kadesh. It was there that Miriam died and she was buried there." (20:1)

Menachem Recanati asks, "This is all the Torah has to say about Miriam here, though her death was comparable to Moshe's (Baba Batra 17a), and Aharon's, and even Avraham's, on account of all them utilizing the word "Sham" ("there"), which even appears twice here?"

The Talmud (Moed Katan 28a) tells us Miriam's death is juxtaposed to the Parah Adumah (Red Heifer) of Chapter 19 because just as the Parah Adumah brought atonement, so does the death of the righteous bring atonement.

Toldot Yitzchak notes the problem with this passage; since the Parah Adumah is not classified as a Korban (sacrifice) it does not bring atonement! It brings about taharah (purity)!

This may explain why Rashi here misquotes the Talmud, saying "Just as Korbanot bring atonement, so does the death of the righteous." [Tosafot claim the atonement brought by Parah Adumah is for the Sin of the Golden Calf. See also Rashi19:22]

Other commentaries address the "death of righteous bringing atonement" idea. Torah Temimah focuses not on the death, but on observed mourning and honor given to the deceased, which translates to Honor of God, suggesting this is what brings atonement.

The Toldot Yitzchak surmises that "the Rabbis' intent was that the atonement was not available for a person who does not feel a real spiritual void, a loss for all of Israel, when the righteous die. Such a loss should humble a person, and make a person feel like the dust of the earth, an idea connected to the Parah Adumah which is burned to dust."

The deaths of Nadav and Avihu are mentioned in Yom Kippur's Torah reading to help us think, on the Day of Atonement, of what can be achieved for the people through the death of the righteous (see possibility #1 here) . [On what to say after such tragedies, see here]

Ricanati says after the Baal Peor incident in Bamidbar 25, Moshe was instructed to gather the leaders of the people in order to get God's wrath to subside from Israel (25:4) because through the leaders either judging the people or themselves dying, God's attribute of Judgment is appeased. (See Medrash Shir HaShirim 1:6) This helps explain why the wrongs perpetrated against the Givonim were only righted through the deaths of seven descendants of Shaul (see Shmuel II:21)

Recanati furthers this idea in his commentary on Eglah Arufah – the unsolved murder (Devarim 21) – quoting Bereishit Raba 44:5. When God told Avraham "I will [make a] shield [of] you" He was saying, "I will make righteous people descend from you, the kind who protect others from Judgment through their deaths." [i.e. Nadav and Avihu (Vayikra 10:3) and what Talmud Shabbat 55a learns from Yechezkel 9:6]

There is a more blatant connection between Miriam's death and Eglah Arufah. The Talmud (Avodah Zarah 29b) learns from a "gezeirah shavah" (a parallel word in two Torah cases) on the word "Sham" ("there") that just as one is forbidden from deriving benefit from the slaughtered cow (eglah arufah), it is forbidden to derive benefit from a corpse (such as Miriam was).

Baal Haturim connects Parah Adumah, Miriam's death and Eglah Arufah through equating the numerical values of "Issur B'hanaah" (prohibition of benefit) (340), the word "Sham" (340), "Mechaper" (brings atonement) (340), and "Parah Adumah" (341: gematria has a +/-1 factor).

Further, the Kli Yakar (19:2) connects the young cow (Eglah) slaughtered to achieve atonement and the Eigel (Golden Calf) in their giving or needing to achieve atonement for murder – shortly before the Golden Calf was formed, Chur was murdered.

With Miriam's death, the people missed an opportunity to achieve the atonement they so needed. This lost chance was the cause (if not the blessing!) that absolved Moshe and Aharon once and for all from leading the people from whom they had grown apart.

The Alshich describes Moshe's and Aharon's intent to deal with burying their sister. When they saw a large crowd coming, Aharon praised the people for wanting to do kindness, but Moshe questioned their intent as they weren't following the proper social order. And when they heard Moshe describing their visit negatively, they fought with him.

Rabbi Yosef Karo explained their confronting Moshe, "See! Miriam died a natural death! If we could only die a natural death! But who wants to die from thirst? Why did you bring us to the desert…?" They erred! Many commentaries point out that they should have responded properly over the loss of this righteous women, a prophetess, sister of Moshe and Aharon, and they should have expressed their gratitude for having water in her merit.

The well was taken away so the people would realize it had been there in her merit. Had they treated her death with proper reverence, as the Torah Temimah described, treating Moshe and Aharon with kindness, the water would return. They didn't – and they suffered on account of it.

Every generation has truly great leaders, who are revered, honored and respected in their lifetimes. It is our responsibility to make the most of their time on earth in enhancing our lives. When their time on this earth is over, we must feel the loss in the deepest depths of our being. We need the atonement that comes with such a loss.

After the Deaths of the Righteous - Speak!

A response to the week of the Boston bombing, the tragedy in West, TX, and a local tragedy in Boca Raton, FL, [this last article is referenced in the text below], concluding with a personal tribute on the occasion of a yarzeit

Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor (A sermon)

          There is an expression in Hebrew that combines the names of our parshas this week and next - Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor – after the deaths of the righteous speak. Some view it as an ironic statement introducing what you say before eulogizing one who wasn't righteous.

          But some take it as a statement which reflects a reality – after the death of the righteous it is a time to speak, to reflect, and to take note. And it is that focus which I would like to apply to my words this morning.

          The story is told of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach – when asked by a yeshiva bochur if it was bittul torah to travel three hours up to Tiveriah, Tzfat, Meron, etc. to daven by the mekomot ha-kedoshim there, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach replied that he should daven by the kedoshim here in Jerusalem, buried at Har Herzl.

Between the reflections of Yom HaZikaron in Israel, and the loss of innocents in Boston and in West, Texas, as well as the tragedy which befell the South Florida Jewish community when a 12 year old girl was killed in a traffic accident in Boca on Monday, it is a real opportunity to fulfill "Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor."

When innocent people die in accidents or in senseless acts of terror – and it became clear yesterday even to those who thought it might have been "domestic" that the latest Boston Massacre was a result of terrorism – we, the good citizens of the world, are left to wonder, what is going on on this earth?

We are left to question the ways of God, knowing we will not find answers.

We are once again faced with the impossible-to-answer-question of why bad things happen to good people.

The Sefirat HaOmer period has become a yearly reminder of tragedy, as many of our brothers and sisters observe customs of mourning to commemorate the "era that never was" on account of the deaths of Rabbi Akiva's students. Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor.

People of faith do not seek to find answers – because there is but one answer. There is a Master of the Universe. He knows what He is doing. He understands the big picture. He has the benefit of the wide lens. And the luxury of time.

In time, some of us may see or understand. Some of us might only understand when our bodies have left us and we are soaring souls. Some of us may wander and wonder for the rest of our days and never achieve the clarity we so yearn for right now.

Perhaps the clarity is too painful. Perhaps seeing and knowing are things we are not quite ready to do.

Parshas Acharei Mos begins with instructions given to Aharon for how to conduct himself in his most special role as Kohen Gadol, on the Holiest Day of the year, Yom Kippur. The instructions came after the deaths of Nadav and Avihu – it's a painful pill for Aharon to swallow. But he must also learn from their mistakes - what not to do. In fact it's the first thing he's told "וְאַל יָבֹא בְכָל עֵת אֶל הַקֹּדֶשׁ מִבֵּית לַפָּרֹכֶת אֶל פְּנֵי הַכַּפֹּרֶת אֲשֶׁר עַל הָאָרֹן וְלֹא יָמוּת כִּי בֶּעָנָן אֵרָאֶה עַל הַכַּפֹּרֶת:" Don't come to the Holy of Holies at any time – as your sons tried to do! Don't die doing the service! Come one day a year, in the manner which will be described.

Is this pouring salt in Aharon's wounds? It's hard to say, as the Torah paints Nadav and Avihu here in a positive light: בְּקָרְבָתָם לִפְנֵי יְקֹוָק וַיָּמֻתוּ: - that as they were getting very close to God they died -  Perhaps even suggesting that while the death of loved ones is painful for those who are left behind to mourn, maybe sometimes death is a gift to the person who dies.

Rabbi Goldberg from the Boca Raton Synagogue wrote an incredible tribute to the 12-year old girl and her parents,which was featured on Aish.com. He quoted her father, Rabbi Stern, who, in his eulogy for his daughter expressed gratitude to those who have helped his family at this difficult time. More remarkably, he offered words of gratitude to the Almighty Himself for sharing Shoshi with them, even if it was only for 12 short years."

This is Acharei Mos Kedoshim Emor.

The Sterns even told the police to reach out to the driver, who after the traffic investigation was deemed to have done nothing wrong and was not charged, and to tell him “Please, I beg of you, get in touch with him and tell him that we are people of faith, we believe in God and we know that this was not his fault. Please,” she said, “tell him not to allow this to ruin the rest of his life.”

I have heard similar sentiments expressed by parents of Israeli soldiers who are killed by friendly fire. They say, we forgive you, we love you, we know what you are going through. And we accept it as the will of God.

Acharei Mos Kedoshim Emor.

In Parshas Kedoshim, we have an interesting conglomerate of laws and instructions. In some ways there are connections and themes, but for the most part it is an interesting mixed bag of laws. However, there are a few laws which refer to the treatment of a Ger = a stranger who lives among you. I do not believe it refers to a convert, because to me, what we call a convert is a "Jew." A ger, therefore is a ger Toshav – a person who has accepted to be a Noahide, who lives in your land, accepts your autonomy, follows your civil laws, but is not a Jew.

Our commandments regarding the Ger are to leave some produce in the field for him, as well as for the poor, not to oppress him, and that he should be treated like a regular Ezrach – a citizen – and ואהבת לו כמוך.

But there is a caveat. He must behave as an Ezrach. Because we read immediately at the beginning of the next Perek, that a Ger who gives his child to Molech, to idolatry, to an ideal so antithetical to our cause and peoplehood, he is to be killed by the people of the land.

And while I believe our justice system in the United States is pretty good – it isn't perfect, what is? – I don't believe we are strong enough with people who choose to live here but live an anti-American life. The individuals apparently responsible for the Boston Massacre, were apparently legal residents of the United States. But this does not matter - they are not "gerim" who are Ezrachim who are deserving of the liberties afforded to basic criminals.

Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor – we must speak truth that evil people who are looking to harm innocent people – Kedoshim sometimes means Holy, but it also means separate, and perhaps even elite – which we can say about people who can run a marathon in 4 hours – they are kadosh in distinguishing themselves in their training, their devotion, their drive, their stamina, and their dedication to get to that 26^th point second mile – the evil and destructive people are not even deserving of a civil trial. They get what they deserve – ובערת הרע מקרבך.

 It is insulting that anyone might waiver and say, even before yesterday's revelations, that this "might not be terrorism." It must be shouted that "This is terrorism and the person or people responsible are not only not welcome in this land, but if you perpetrate crimes of this manner, this is worse than espionage and is punishable – כאשר עשו כן יעשו להם."

If you don't stand for peace in your own borders, the Torah tells us, the civil unrest – INTERNALLY! – will destroy you and everything you stand for.

As for those in West, Texas – It's a terrible tragedy. We pray for them to be able to pick up from the devastation, we mourn for the loss of innocent life, and we hope better times will come for them in the proper time.

Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor. Say the right words. At the minimum be sympathetic and empathetic. And if at all possible, do whatever you can to help.

The Gemara in Brachos 5a warns us that when a person sees tragedies hitting him, Yefashfesh B'maasav. He must examine his deeds. This may apply on a personal level, a family level, a community level, or even a city, state, national or even international level.

In his eulogy on Aish.com Rabbi Goldberg similarly noted the practice of the sages: "If one of the members of the community has tragically died, the entire community should be anxious, worried and concerned."

          While this is not to suggest that we as a community, as a shul or as a People are responsible for any of these events – we don't know the ways of God – nonetheless we are left to look at our deeds, care more for one another – certainly internally, but also to be good neighbors and good citizens. To carry ourselves with dignity and to conduct ourselves with courtesy and respect for others.

Sometimes it is hard. Sometimes we are treated badly. Sometimes the sharp retort feels like the most pleasurable thing to say in a particular moment.

But we must resist and be the best we can be.

Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor. Innocent people die – we must reflect on the frailty of life and remember how quickly it can be taken away. We must make the most of our relationships, appreciate our spouses, children, parents. We must maximize how we utilize our time – for pleasure, of course, but more importantly for spiritual pursuits and endeavors. We are here in shul on a lovely weekend, for example, because that is important to us. Instead of looking at a clock, perhaps we can benefit from telling ourselves we don't spend enough time here, that maybe we need to be in shul as much as we can, to provide the nourishment that fills the needs of our souls.

I want to conclude with a brief tribute to a man who I witnessed, even in my short time knowing him, living this way.

The founding gabbai of Anshei Chesed was Elie Frances, of blessed memory. A more dedicated shul man you couldn't find. Loving his gabbaius, caring about the seder hatefillah, dotting the Is and crossing the Ts of making the experience at the bimah and in the kahal a smooth experience for all.

He was a hidden child during WWII, and he made up for his lost years of Jewish education in ways we could not imagine. He was a wonderful, sincere, baal tefillah – particularly on the Yomim Noraim, when he graced us with his sincerity and heartfelt emotion on the High Holidays.

I remember watching him once thinking "he could do this for another 30 years – he loves it so much." But it was not to be. His final months passed too quickly. He leaves a void in this shul that those who knew him well feel on a regular basis.

Leah is one of the Kiddush sponsors today on the occasion of Elie's yarzeit. We join you in wishing his neshama to have the aliyahs that our brachos will give. We also thank you for continuing to bring the Frances grace and charm to our shul. It's a little different on the women's side of the mechitzah, but what you bring to our shul is a lot more than a smooth davening experience. And we are grateful that you have found the strength to come and to participate in the way you do.

Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor gives the responsibility to the living to speak well of those who are gone, to have important conversation of how we can be מקדש שם שמים, and hopefully bring about an era in which tragedies – whether seemingly man-made or man-provoked, or coming from God himself, need not impact those about whom we care the most.

Acharei Mot Kedoshim Emor  – it is our hope that you can continue to Emor – to speak of Elie and to remember him in this fashion – whether as a tribute to enhance the davening experience or a tribute to enhance the learning experiences that others will undertake in his name.

תנצבה.

Vayigash Sermon - with a tribute to Newtown, CT victims

The "untimely" and unexpected theme of Vayigash:  death?

A friend of mine sent me an email late Thursday night, with the link to an article entitled, "Boynton Beach, FL- Orthodox Man Killed While Riding Bike," asking if it was someone from the shul. The accident took place on Jog about 2 miles from here, and the deceased was identified in the article as Zev Gross from Delray Beach. [With condolences to his family - mentioning him was not to trivialize his tragic death, but to indicate how 'difficult' this week was.]

            From last Friday until now, the news has been ablaze with stories about, and the aftermath of, the Newtown, CT tragedy in which 26 people were killed by an insane individual. I will not talk today about gun rights, or about mental illness – which seem to be the two largest focuses of discussion in the aftermath of the tragedy – nor will I address the downsides of a culture subsumed with violence in video games and film. That last point is not a discussion for our mature audience – we can distinguish between video games and films, and reality.

            But I am going to address thoughts we may have from time to time, about mortality, and what it all means. Not that I have all the answers because I don't. I don't know if I have any of the answers.

            To round out my week, the "Ethics" class in my Melton class was on the topic of "Suicide." I started the class asking if anyone in the room knew someone who had done the deed. And while I am one of the younger people in the room, I was also one of the few who raised a hand. I knew a few people who have done this – one in particular which was quite devastating for me. So, in preparing for the class, I took a very unwanted stroll down memory lane.

Ironically, I saw another news item that Bernie Madoff's brother was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Which reminded me of Madoff – which took place 4 years ago, and whose deeds caused a number of suicides, including his son's who committed suicide two years ago, and who's Yarzeit, also ironically, was this past Monday.

            What a week.

            Concern over death plays a surprisingly significant role in the parsha we read this morning. When Yehuda presents his passionate plea to Tzafenat Paneach, hoping he can melt the ice cold heart of the ruler he stands before, he mentions that "We told you that if our younger brother leaves our father, our father will die. And when we told our father about what you said, he told us, 'You know my [deceased] wife gave birth to two sons. One went out, and he's been torn up. You're going to take this one, and an accident will befall him. My old age will drown in sorrow on my journey to Sheol.' We can't return to our father without our youngest brother, because their souls are linked together. If we return home without youngest brother, HE WILL DIE. I swore by my life that I would take care – that if I don't bring him back, I will have sinned to my father all the days of my life.       

            The Or HaChaim notes in last week's parsha, that Yaakov was convinced to let Yehuda take charge, because Yehuda was not only willing to sacrifice his life in this world, but his world to come experience as well.

            Yosef can no longer play his charade, he reveals himself, and takes the necessary steps from his angle to assure his father continues to survive.

But the brothers were concerned with how to break the Good news to Yaakov – they didn't want to kill him with the amazing news of Yosef's rise to power. This is why the midrash informs us Serach broke the news. Because she was nicer, sweeter, and not involved in any way - she would not have to answer any accusing glances that might say, "How did he get there in the first place?"

Nonetheless, the Torah tells us – following Rav S.R. Hirsch's interpretation of ויפג לבו, that Yaakov fainted and needed to be resuscitated – an interpretation of וַתְּחִי רוּחַ יַעֲקֹב אֲבִיהֶם. And then Yaakov expresses, "Now that I know Yosef is alive, אֵלְכָה וְאֶרְאֶנּוּ בְּטֶרֶם אָמוּת. The clock, we are reminded, is ALWAYS ticking.

            Yaakov goes to Beer Shava , where God appears to him and tells him not to be afraid to go down to Egypt, "For I will go down with you and I will come up with you" – which Rashi says is a promise that Yaakov will be buried in Canaan (after dying in Egypt) – "While Yosef will place his hand on your eyes" – which the Medrash and a number of commentaries say refers to closing Yaakov's eyes when he dies.

            At the end of the parsha, when Yosef is negotiating with the Egyptians over how he will continue to feed them, they keep asking for him to help them so they can avoid dying. "We have no money, but  וְלָמָּה נָמוּת נֶגְדֶּךָ because of that." Later Yosef acquires all their animals, and they say to him,  לָמָּה נָמוּת לְעֵינֶיךָ גַּם אֲנַחְנוּ גַּם אַדְמָתֵנוּ. If Yosef buys their land in exchange for food, and acquires them as slaves, they say וְנִחְיֶה וְלֹא נָמוּת וְהָאֲדָמָה לֹא תֵשָׁם:. After he explains how their serfdom will work, they say, "You have kept us alive. We will find favor in your eyes in our servitude."

            The concern over mortality is clearly widespread.

            Which brings us to our most odd episode in the parsha.

            Yosef brings his father to Paroh, and we are told Yaakov blesses Paroh. Paroh asks an odd questions: How old are you?

            Yaakov answers, "I am living 130 years, few and bad were the days of the years of my life, and they have not reached the days of the years of that my fathers lived." Before leaving, he blesses Paroh again.

One of the Midrashic explanations for this exchange suggests that Yaakov was bargaining with Pharaoh. After blessing Paroh that the Nile should rise and end the famine, Yaakov believed Pharaoh would never let him return to be buried in the Land of Canaan, so he made a deal. ‘Say you will let me go after the famine is over, or I will make my purchases here and return home now.  I have already accomplished my goal of seeing Yosef.’

In this vein, Pharaoh was asking, “How old are you? How do I know we will be blessed on your account during the remaining years of the famine? Maybe you’ll die before the famine ends because you’re so old. Why should I make guarantees?"

This midrash reminds me of a joke. It's a morose topic. A joke won't hurt us:

A shammes is approved for a five year advance on his salary in order to finance his daughter's wedding. He feels compelled to give a speech, and says, "Thank you so much for your kindness today. When five years are over, I will look forward to having paid back my debt to you for your generosity. But if I should die within the next five years, well that will just be my good luck."

To summarize, we have Yaakov at 130 concerned about death, we have his sons, who are between the ages of 39 and 45 concerned about his death, we have Yaakov concerned about Binyamin's death (Binyamin is around 30 years old), and we have Egyptians of all ages concerned about their survival.

Everyone seems to want to live. But the obsession, and all the hype over the possibility of dying makes one wonder if they really enjoyed the lives they lived as they lived it. Even Yaakov's comment to Paroh is disturbing. It's almost as if he wants out, that seeing Yosef is enough, and he doesn't care to be around any longer.

If this is living, who needs it? You'll probably say, "It beats the alternative." And if you have your wits about you to say that, it's probably true.

But the truth is, we don't know what's on the other side, what lies beyond the great white yonder. Paroh legitimately wondered what guarantees Yaakov could make in his death. None!

Every religion tries to answer the question of what comes next. For us, we talk about Shamayim, Gan Eden, being with Hakadosh Baruch Hu and the Malachim. For those who suffered in life, we sometimes say they're in a better place, they should rest in peace. In some cases we talk about death being a kapparah, or even a blessing.

My grandmother, alehah hashalom, and yibadel l'chaim my great aunt would talk about who is watching them from shamayim. My greatgrandmother was always good for helping you find a good parking space, and when the stars align for you. My siblings and cousins say my Babi is the force behind all the marriages and new great grandchildren that have come about in our family since her death.

We say that the deceased is a melitz yosher. And it makes us feel good. Because we need that. We need to put death into terms we understand, because if we don't our lives cease to have meaning. You mean, we just live, do our best, then die, and THAT'S IT? That can't be IT! There MUST be something else. RIGHT? Right, Rabbi? Right?

Yes. There must be. Especially as we believe

יב) אֲנִי מַאֲמִין בֶּאֱמוּנָה שְׁלֵמָה. בְּבִיאַת הַמָּשִׁיחַ. וְאַף עַל פִּי שֶׁיִּתְמַהְמֵהַּ. עִם כָּל זֶה אֲחַכֶּה לּוֹ בְּכָל יוֹם שֶׁיָּבוֹא:

As well as the next one, which is not as famous, because it hasn't been made into a song...

(יג) אֲנִי מַאֲמִין בֶּאֱמוּנָה שְׁלֵמָה. שֶׁתִּהְיֶה תְּחִיַּת הַמֵּתִים בְּעֵת שֶׁיַעֲלֶה רָצוֹן מֵאֵת הַבּוֹרֵא יִתְבָּרַךְ שְׁמוֹ וְיִתְעַלֶּה זִכְרוֹ לָעַד וּלְנֵצַח נְצָחִים:

But what do we do with a tragedy like Newtown?

A few years ago, a friend of mine lost a sister. 18 years old, beautiful מבית ומחוץ, it was a real tragedy. I went the first evening of the shiva because I was going out of town the next day for Pesach. A few people were sitting around as my friend was having a very hard time, and one person - who I can best describe as someone who does not know what to say at a shiva - said to him, "She's in a better place."

It was very hard to contain myself. But as the person was on the way out, I waited until he left and then said to my friend, "That guy does not know what he is talking about. Your sister is not 'in a better place.' This was the best place for her, with your family, with her whole life ahead of her. We DON'T understand, or assume to understand. We are crying and mourning with you."

And Newtown is the same thing. We MOURN. We are sad. We REMEMBER how those who died LIVED, and we do our best to fill in the gaps created by their untimely and tragic deaths brought about by a murderous psychopath. We honor them, we respect their families [how I wish the media would leave them alone!], and we commit not to forget the kind of evil that can lurk in the hearts of men, whether of their own accord or on account of mental illness, so that hopefully hopefully others need not be victims of similarly senseless tragedies.

It's never easy when a younger person dies. But a natural death is somewhat easier to come to grips with. "It was God's plan." "We did what we could…"

But when death comes at the hands of man, we have a lot more questions and "What Ifs" than we know what to do with. And there are no answers.

Why was Yaakov so concerned with death? Yaakov had lived for 22 years as the parent who lost a child. As anyone who has lost a child knows, time may help you move on, but you never "get over it." You always think "what if I had gone about that day differently?"

He never had real closure with Yosef. He didn't want to die without knowing what had happened. And so, when he saw Yosef, he had his closure. He was done. He didn't need the remaining 17 years of his life. Of course, in his case, thankfully, things worked out pretty nicely.

Why was Yehuda so concerned for his father? First of all, Yehuda knows what it means to lose a child - he buried two sons. That is an experience he does not want anyone to go through - especially his father. Show me a person who has a healthy relationship with a parent who wants to see his or her parent die.

Why were the Egyptians so concerned about their mortality – even after they sold themselves as slaves to Paroh? Because in Egypt, the only people who had it good in death were the Pharaohs. Death was otherwise an unknown. Life is known, death is not. We want the familiar. Chazal describe Egypt as a bastion of moral depravity. Which means you live the good life no matter what position you're in, and death is nothing to look forward to.

And Pharaoh was concerned about Yaakov's age, because he knew the signs of old age, and knew Yaakov did not have a whole lot of time left.

Newtown is such a tragedy because it combines a method of death plus ages that we cannot come to grips with. With adults who gave their lives to protect children. And very young children who have lost their innocence far too early, who will be scarred for life far to early on account of the events they witnessed and the friends they will never see again.

It's almost easy for the deceased. They're done.  But we, the living, need to move on. And this is very very difficult.

We dare not forget. But we also dare not crawl into a hole. Because our lives do have meaning, and they do have a purpose. For us, our meaning and purpose is rooted in our commitment to God and coming close to Him through our dedication to Medrash (learning) and Mayseh (deeds).

The Mishnah in Avos says לא המדרש עיקר אלא המעשה. Our deeds are most important. Though our learning is important as well. 

We do our part to enhance the memory of those lost, and to raise our own commitment to living a purposeful and meaningful life - in their place, and when possible, in their name.

Through this we honor the deceased and show our tremendous regard for our short time on earth. For most of the Newtown victims, their short time was way too short, tragically cut short.

Abraham Lincoln said in his Gettysburg address, "from these honored dead we take increased devotion… that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain…"

Yehuda was willing to give up his life in this world and the next world for the sake of one who, though thirty years old, is described by the Torah in childlike terms. And I would venture to bet that most of us would do the same so that a child could live a long and meaningful life.

Let us take upon ourselves a new deed, a new devotion, a new mitzvah, a new chesed, on a regular basis. Give a little more tzedakah on a weekly basis. Read to a child, or read to the blind. Donate your time as a volunteer for a worthy organization. Carry fruit in your car to give to the homeless on the street corner. Daven once a day, or more than once a day. Read a chapter of tehillim every day. Take a book on any Jewish topic, and commit to read a page a day. One page.

Do it in memory of a victim of Newtown. Carry on what they can't any more. Make your world a little more meaningful. And let us remember them - in good health, until a hundred and twenty, and with overabundant nachas - until the day we join their innocent neshamas in the olam ha'emes.

The Covenant of Peace

Parshat Pinchas

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Pinchas is most famous for his act of zealotry in punishing Zimri for an immoral act of defiance, which he perpetrated in front of Moshe and the elders, as a clear affront to God.

An interesting cast of characters have parshas named for them: Noach, Yisro, Korach, Balak, Pinchas (Chayei Sarah includes a name, which comes after her death). Each has his own story of intrigue making the coincidence of their being in this club a source for much homily.

What makes Pinchas unique is that he literally emerges out of nowhere, he is a protagonist for a very small amount of Torah-space, and then he disappears into obscurity again, only to reemerge in the books of the Prophets – in Yehoshua and Shoftim (Judges). The gift he receives, however, is one of the more coveted in the Torah: he receives from God בריתי שלום - "Britee Shalom," God's "Covenant of Peace."

What is the Covenant of Peace? Were you to google the term "Brit Shalom" you would find many websites dedicated to "bris without circumcision." As a quick aside I find it ironic that a certain website utilizes two negative commandments, not to imprint marks on the body and not to make cuttings in the flesh, to prove that bris milah goes against the Torah. Invoking negative commandments out of context (the first refers to tattoos and the second refers to cutting the flesh over the loss of a loved one) while ignoring Bereshit 17 and Vayikra 12:3 is a lesson in intellectual dishonesty. [I've written about this in my mohel blog.]

 Pinchas has become a symbol at the Bris Milah ceremony, as the first verses of our parsha are recited as a reminder of Pinchas's role in defending the covenant.

But was the "Covenant of Peace" meant to refer specifically to the Covenant of Circumcision? Every commentary has a different approach. Some include: That Zimri's relatives will not seek revenge, he had been grandfathered out of being a kohen and now he would inherit his father's position, that he will be the Messiah delivering the message of World Peace. And some talk about Pinchas being the defender of "the" covenant – Bris Milah.

I find the the Seforno's interpretation to be quite compelling, mostly because it carries a lesson we can all live by, live for, and pray for ourselves and our loved ones. The Seforno writes "The Covenant of Peace [meaning] from the Angel of Death. Pinchas outlived all the people of his generation – by a lot – as he was still the kohen in Mishkan Shilo at the time of the Pilegesh B'Givah story (Shoftim 20:28)… By most accounts this was at least 300 years later… Certainly, according to those who say Eliyahu was Pinchas, then he still lives."

It is worth noting that Ibn Ezra thoroughly rejects the idea that Pinchas was later Eliyahu. And, of course, there are non-literal interpretations of what the Pinchas=Eliyahu equation means. As well as what "Eliyahu still lives" means. A much longer discussion.

But even Ibn Ezra cannot get around the fact that Pinchas is still around at the end of the book of Shoftim, which means that Pinchas lived for a length of time that is completely uncharacteristic of his generation.

I do not believe that we live in a world in which a person can literally cheat the Angel of Death through living for centuries. But as the 93-year old great grandmother (who could pass for a sprite and with-it 75 year old) I met at a recent bris told me, "I get up every morning, swim my laps for 45 minutes and then I get on with my day. It's what keeps me alive."

For some people it is a physical activity – exercise, playing tennis, golf or basketball. For some people it is daily minyan or a regular shiur they attend. Some people volunteer their time at libraries, hospitals, or continue to work. Having that routine keeps you alive because there is something to look forward to on a daily basis.

While this is by no means a guarantee for longevity – genes and a healthy lifestyle probably have more to do with it than anything – perhaps the lesson from Pinchas is that if we know what we believe in and take a stand when necessary, we can hopefully merit the blessing of the covenant of Peace. That when our time does come, whether after 50, 75, 100 years or the proverbial 120, if we've lived our lives wholly and fully with no regrets, we may be blessed to have a peaceful end, without suffering, in a way that we and our loved ones can feel we got the better of the Angel of Death.

I certainly hope for everyone to live a long life, and to enjoy life and family for many years. But as no one lives forever, hopefully we can merit to go into the sunset riding at the top, where not even the Angel of Death can reach us.