Motzi Ra or Motzi Tov - Bringing Out the Best in Others

Parshat Metzora 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

When we encounter the parshas of Tazria and Metzora, our thoughts typically run to Lashon Hara (speech that brings people down), which is argued by the Talmud (Arakhin 15-16) to be the main impetus for the Biblical punishment of “tzara’at” afflicting a person back in the day (tzara’at’s seven causes will be discussed below).

The word “Metzora,” which describes the person carrying the disease of tzara’at is noted by the midrash and many commentaries as being a condensed form of the words “motzi ra” – to bring out evil. Some say the person became a metzora because of being "motzi ra" - bringing evil out of one's lips. Most will say that the idea of being “motzi ra” is meant to be the result of having tzara’at, that the person with the ailment gets the message as delivered through this God-sent spiritual disease, and makes a conscious decision to remove the evil-from-within which caused the individual to sin.

But there is also the possibility that the problem facing the Metzora, and one of the reasons why the disease comes is because the sin also brings out the bad in others. How does a victim of Lashon hora (slander and gossip) respond to people talking about him? Murder sometimes causes others to murder in vengeance. Swearing in vain promotes a culture in which people are not careful about their speech. For sins of immorality – if it only took one to tango, perhaps it wouldn’t bring out the evil in others. But it takes two to tango. Haughtiness or stinginess of the sinner causes others to feel belittled, to get angry, or to experience jealousy. Thievery may cause vigilantism, with people taking the law into their own hands.

And so, perhaps, we can all benefit from asking ourselves if we are doing our part to bring the best out of people, or are we, heaven forfend, bringing out the worst in others? All questions presented are being asked in no particular order. And yes, I’m talking to myself.

Parents: Do we encourage our children to make good decisions? Do we allow them to make bad decisions, so they can learn from their mistakes? Do we compliment them when they do well, so they don’t only hear criticism from us? Do we put them up much much more than we put them down? Do we make reasonable demands – religiously, academically, in the pursuit of hobbies? Do we express our disappointment with love and care, while explaining why sometimes bad choices, or irresponsibility may have fair and reasonable consequences? Are we overly-sarcastic (when it’s not a symptom of a sense-of-humor we share with our children)? Do we do our part to improve our own parenting skills – such as developing more patience, controlling our anger, learning the art of communication, and realizing that we teach more by example than anything else?

Teachers and educators: All the parenting questions. Plus. (Parents – we can all read these too!) Do we have patience for kids who learn differently, and at different paces? Do we recognize the differences that make each child unique? Do we know how recognize the beauty in each child? Do we know how to tap into a child’s strengths? Are we able to encourage creativity, and not stifle it?

Rabbis: Do we encourage positive speech and respectful dialogue in our shuls? Do we respect the fact that our members may have different political views, religious backgrounds, spiritual expectations and needs? Do we remember to be cautious of the rules of lashon hora when dealing with different personalities and the ways in which they sometimes conflict in shul-operations? Do we challenge those who don't normally serve as bal-tefillah or read the Torah to take a time-slot and take the lead of the davening? Do we encourage others to give a dvar torah in settings in which that would be acceptable (it doesn't always have to be the rabbi!) - such as at a shalom zachar, a seudah shlishit, Shavuos night?

Everyone not in these kinds of leadership roles: Are we good friends? Do we encourage good behaviors? Do we know when to set limits – to pull back and say, this conversation is not for me, these activities are not for me, I don’t agree with these decisions? Do we know when to say Yes and when to say No? Are we supportive when we need to be? For those with really close relationships – are we able express to our friends when we feel they’re doing things that are harmful to themselves or their children? Are we willing to listen (even if we disagree) when a friend raises points the friend is concerned about?

For all: Are we there for each other in the labyrinth of life?

May we all be blessed to be a Motzi Tov (one who brings out the good) in ourselves and in others, especially in those we love and care about the most

Value of Our "Seed"

Parshat Bechukotai

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The final chapter of the book of Vayikra delves into the topic of Endowments and Valuations, essentially answering the question of what value humans, animals and properties have if a person makes a pledge to the Mishkan based on the value of another human being, etc. It is not to suggest that a direct monetary value can be assigned to any person, because human beings are priceless, but that a donation based on such a declaration carries with it a measurable value.

              
“If a man consecrates a field from his hereditary property to God, its endowment value shall be calculated according to the amounts of seed [required to sow it], 50 silver shekels for each chomer of barley seed.” Chomer is a measurement of seed that might cover or plant close to 4 acres of farmland. (See the Living Torah)

              
Rabbi Akiva Sofer asks a very simple question, and gives a very Hassidic-style answer. “Do you want to know the value of the person who sanctifies his property to God? Do you want to know if he is complete in his heart, in his fear and reverence of God? Then ‘his value should be calculated based on his seed.’”

              
Rabbi Sofer takes the literal meaning of the text and takes a very simple alternative twist, utilizing another important translation of the word “Zera” -

Proper Education: Tumah and the Shema

Parshat Emor

by Rabbi Avi Billet

"And God said to Moshe, 'Say to the Kohanim, the sons of Aharon, and say to them, they should not become 'tameh' to people of the nation.'" (Vayikra 23:1)

            

The opening instruction in our parsha is for the kohanim to learn that they must follow a strict behavior, in which under ordinary circumstances they can only become "tameh" to a dead body if the deceased is one of the seven close relatives.

But the language utilized to relay this rule is strange. Instead of informing us that "God spoke (Vay'daber) to Moshe to say" the Torah says, "God said (Vayomer) to Moshe, "Say…" (Emor) And then it repeats the root word meaning "say" with the instruction of "V'amarta" – you will say to them.

            

Ramban says there is nothing special to be learned from this language. Emor is the same as Daber – it's a call to gather, listen and pay attention.

            

Yet one wonders, since there is a difference between the word "Daber" – Speak! and "Emor" – Say. "Speak" means you will address them saying the following idea, perhaps in your own words. "Say" means, "Here is a script you must follow."

            

The out-of-the-ordinary repetition of the root "Emor" is brought to our attention by Rashi, who, quoting a gemara (end of Yevamot 114a), says "'Emor... V'Amarta' comes to tell the big people (adults) to teach the little people (children) about the laws of tumah."

            

The midrashic book compiled in the Geonic period, Pitron Torah, explains that the first "say" teaches kohanim not to become tameh. The second "say" teaches kohanim the exception: if a kohen happens to come across a "met mitzvah" – a corpse on the road – he is to bury the body.

            

When Maimonides discusses the teaching of the Gemara (Hilchot Eivel 3:12), he says that a kohen-minor is to be taught not to become tameh. And while if he chooses to become tameh himself the court is not commanded to have him desist from being in a tameh arena, his father must educate him in the ways of "kedushah" – the holiness and sanctity that he must maintain as a kohen.

            

The Ta"z makes a similar point in Y"D 373, when he pinpoints the word "chinukh" as being the primary mode of operation determining the adult's responsibility to each child. The Pischei Teshuvah defines "chinukh" in his own comment on the Shulchan Arukh there as teaching so that "he can be punctilious in his fulfillment of the mitzvah when he reaches majority." ("she'yizaher l'kayem hamitzvah k'she'yagdil")

            

The kohen certainly has a job to educate his son in the ways of kohen responsibilities - in addition to the laws of tumah. For example, kohen children should be taught by their fathers how to duchen, and all kohanim must be sure that when they duchen they do so correctly (see Shulchan Arukh OC 128:8-end).

            

But "chinukh" is not confined to kohanim and their children. It is within the purview of all parents to properly educate their children, so that when their children reach majority they will know how to fulfill their mitzvah responsibilities properly.

            

Let us take a look at one of the first mitzvot we train our children to fulfill. While there are no official statistics, in my own work with children, I have found approximately 85% are being trained incorrectly. The flaw may lie in teachers, schools, parents or children. Or, perhaps, a combination of all four.

            

Some people may follow the Shulchan Arukh Orach Chaim 62:1, who says that even though it is a mitzvah to be exact in the reading of the Shema, if one is not perfectly exact, one fulfills one's obligation. But the Mishnah Brurah there says this is referring to all the subtleties that are raised in the entire Siman 61 about how to read the Shema punctiliously, precisely, and perfectly. However, if words or letters are outright misread, the Shema is being read improperly and the mitzvah is not fulfilled.

The problem is so pervasive that I even heard it on the "Shema @ Bed" app I have my daughter use to help her with the evening Shema.

            

In the first paragraph alone, most people make at least one mistake, and most children make at least two others. After the opening two sentences, the first word is "v'ahavTA," with the accent on the last syllable. Reading it this way means, "You shall love Hashem your God." When the accent is placed on the second to last syllable ("v'aHAVta") the words means "and you loved Hashem your God" in the past tense. This is one of many accent errors people make in reading Shema.

            

The other two very common mistakes are on words that are learned through listening and repeating, sounding out what (kids think) they hear, and not reading the words they are saying. The second to last word of the phrase "B'shiv'tkha B'veitekha uv'lekh't'kha baderekh u'v'shokh'b'kha uv'kumekha" is so commonly read as "B'shov't'kha" one can likely attribute it to confusion with the first word of the phrase as quoted as they now sound so similar. But there is a big difference between saying that you must review the words of the Shema "when you are laying down" (b'shokh'b'kha = the correct way) than "when you are returning" (B'shov't'kha = the incorrect way).

            

The last very common mistake is made when the first word of the last sentence of the first paragraph (and again when it appears in the second paragraph) is read as if it's the same as the first word of the previous sentence. We are told to tie the tefillin (u'k'shartam) and to write the mezuzah (u'kh'tavtam). Despite what many kids say when they read the Shema, we are not commanded to tie the mezuzah to the doorpost – u'k'shartam al mezuzot beitekha…

            

Perhaps all the emphasis on the root "Emor" (to say) at the opening of the parsha stands as a reminder that proper chinukh takes place when we take the time to say what needs to be said and to be heard. And, perhaps, in the case where the mitzvah is fulfilled through saying something, and following a script exactly, making sure it is said correctly.

            

Test your children. Be shocked or pleasantly surprised. Complain to the school or do not. Fix the problem if you can. (Shulchan Arukh 61:24 recommends leining the Shema every time!) Do proper Chinukh, making sure they read the words from the siddur so that when they reach the age of mitzvot, they can fulfill the mitzvah of reading the Shema properly.

Bringing the Children Along

This was written the week after the horrific shooting at an elementary school in Newtown, CT in 12/2012, in which 26 people, 20 of whom were children, were killed by a _______ (not sure how to describe this 'person.') The loss is too difficult to comprehend, and the vacuum in all of our hearts is sucking at air because we all feel the pain of those mourning for the children with whom they will never have the opportunity to "bring them along" any more.

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A not-too-farfetched reading of the end of Chapter 45 can indicate that only one person intended to go down to Egypt to stay there.  "… And bread and foot for his father for the journey" (45:23). "He saw the wagons Yosef had sent to carry him…" (45:27) "Israel said, 'My son Yosef still lives: I will go and I will see him before I die.'" (45:28)

It is particularly poignant that Yaakov/Yisrael was the only one excited about the journey. He travels "with all that was his" to Beer Shava, where he brought sacrifices. (46:1) God promises to go down with him (specifically), and that He will take Yaakov up from Egypt. (46:3-4) Yaakov's sons then make sure their wives and children are on the wagons that were sent "to carry him." (46:5).

The final indicators are in verses 6-7, when we see "They took their cattle and their possessions to come to Egypt: Yaakov and all his children with him." This is followed by "His sons, grandsons, daughters and granddaughters and all of his children – he brought with him to Egypt."

Every pronoun is in the singular – about Yaakov.

Why did they not bring all of their belongings in 46:1? Why does it emphasize twice (in 46:6-7) that all his children were with him – first in the general sense, and then in the more specific – before listing them individually? Wouldn't once be sufficient?

And why does it say "He brought them with him to Egypt?" Why did he have to bring them? Did they not go of their own accord?

The Or HaChaim explains that they were only going in order to accompany their father, and had no intention of staying in Egypt. But after the prophesy in Beer Shava, they realized they were meant to go and stay there as well. Which is why they willingly and deliberately put their children on the wagons: if you're going to go, you may as well go in style.

The Malbim further notes that the zodiac indicated there would eventually be enslavement, but that they  (Yaakov's sons) would not personally be enslaved. For the shvatim (the individual tribes) themselves, there was nothing to worry about. But their children, destined to be the first ones enslaved, exhibited hesitation. This is why Yaakov needed to "bring them." Would you want to be dragged along for Grandpa's joyride if he will die soon, leaving you to be enslaved? Didn't think so.

Or HaChaim applies the same thought process to some of the Shvatim themselves – that they too didn't want to go, but needed Yaakov to drag them against their will.

Being dragged along for the ride of someone else's destiny is never easy. When adults get jobs that cause them to move, and their children are uprooted from the system and friendship circle they know so well, it can be traumatic. Those who make aliyah to Israel are sometimes faced with this challenge with their children, especially with kids who were a little older by the time they make the move.

While any move nowadays is hardly comparable to the destiny of being enslaved for a few generations, the natural hesitation, fears, or just plain ambivalence that comes with the prospects of the move are real challenges that aren't easily overcome.

The same is true of certain aspects of how we live. Some schools and parents are quite successful in inculcating a regimen of halakhic observance in their students and children.

Fathers who go to shul bring their kids to shul. Mothers who make prayer a fixture of their lives teach their children that prayer is important to us.

We teach our sons to wear tzitzis, even though the extra garment might not be preferred. We learn Torah in the home, even though a computer game or a toy or a book is more appealing right now.

At the shabbos meal, the kids are present for the zemiros and the bentching. In fact, children learn to say their brachos before and after they eat, even though it isn't "natural" to remember God all the time.

Children are given the opportunity to give tzedakah, to deduct a portion of their allowance. They see their parents write donation checks and understand that we do not keep for ourselves all the money we earn. There are people who are more needy.

If we volunteer at a soup kitchen, we bring our children along, when appropriate.

The fact is, while they are under our protective wings and care, our children share in our destiny – whether they like it or not. We don't have the same opportunity that Yaakov's descendants had, to have an inkling of what the future will bring. But we must bring our children along for the ride, because without proper Jewish living in the present, there will not be a Jewish future.

Coming of Age Properly

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

I recently overheard two fathers of teenagers comparing their approaches to their sons' shul attendance on Sundays and other "days off." One of them came to me afterwards to discuss his related concerns about "texting on shabbos."

With a little insight from Parshat Vayishlach, perhaps there is a simple answer to both questions. I accept that I may be hopelessly naïve. But the stand I propose at the end of this will not be, if followed, what turns your children away from Judaism. Much bigger issues bring about such a result. Having said that, let us see how we can find parenting-inspiration from our forefather Yaakov.

One theme in Vayishlach is the coming-of-age of Yaakov's children.

Unlike in Vayetze where they appear as backdrops in the narrative of events in Padan Aram, in Vayishlach, we see an entirely different story. Consider: Reuven and Bilhah, Shimon and Levi in Shechem, all the brothers dealing with the prince of Shechem, and Yosef being singled out as the last son to meet Eisav. Even Dinah's experience in Shechem, while tragic, is arguably her initiation into the "real world." The brothers, collectively, plunder the city of Shechem and are later asked by their father to remove the idols that they have from their midst.

Yaakov's role as parent is fascinating, at times very active, and at times quite passive.

Immediately after dividing into two camps, Yaakov prays to the God of his fathers (32:10-12). Through remembering his roots in front of his children, he is demonstrating his understanding of why he is in this situation and the expectation he has from the God Who promised to watch over him and his children.

           

Whether Yaakov was crippled (end of Ch. 32) in order that he may: experience the promise God made to him (Chizkuni), be shown he would not be defeated (Radak), or ultimately win in a confrontation (Yalkut Shimoni), all help Yaakov realize that you can't run from your fears. In facing his brother with one unified camp, scrapping the two-camps plan, he models and teaches his children that if you boldly face what you think is your greatest fear, you may find that the only thing you really feared, if I may borrow from FDR, was fear itself. Facing one's destiny is more important than running like a coward. 

           

When his injured "gid hanasheh" prevented him from running, he became emboldened and confronted his brother in the open field. Abstaining from eating this nerve of an animal could be a reminder that cowardice is unbecoming of those who are God-fearing.

            

Yaakov takes the sidelines in allowing his sons to deal with Shechem. They speak "b'mirmah" – using tricks – (as did their father to Yitzchak (see 27:35)) and they bring justice against those who defiled their sister (34:27). Their father is disappointed in their choices, but they literally get the final word (34:31). It seems that they take the teachings of their father – to use trickery, to stand up to those who oppress you or who want to make your life miserable – and they run with them. And while they may not be entirely correct, their actions are somewhat justified by the context of the perpetrated deed.

            

In the final tale, when God tells Yaakov to go to Bet-El to make an altar to his God, Yaakov tells his sons to remove the idolatrous images they have (35:2). They listen! They give them to him, and he buries them under a tree!

            

Yaakov has modeled a line of behavior for his children. They learn from his example, they take his lead. They are not perfect, and they make choices he doesn't like. But when he tells them to give him precious items because they conflict with the prayers he will soon engage in, or because they don't fit in to the mood of the household, they acquiesce – no questions asked.

            

Parents of children who are coming of age certainly notice the changes they go through. Hopefully parents give children the freedom to make choices (and to make mistakes!), but hopefully both parents and children respect one another and have the ability to communicate with one another in general and about what is important to them.

Claiming you don't want to make your child go to shul for a 9am (or later!) minyan on a Sunday because you're afraid of losing your relationship with your son seems silly to me. Your kid davens (or attends davening) in school every day of the week. Sunday is the day you show your kid that you daven too! And that it isn't a day off for him or for you!

            

Finally, if Yaakov could convince his sons to give up golden images and jewelry which did not jive with the home he was building, I see no reason why the texting on shabbos "problem" is a problem. Every home can have an "off-limits-on-Shabbos" box, and every cell phone, tablet, etc. in the house is placed there before shabbos.

            

The same parents who pay their kids' cell-phone bills and give their kids credit cards should have every say as to when the phone is on and off-limits.

            

Yaakov buried objects which were far more precious, for the sake of preparing for serving the God that protected him and his family through the years. Shabbos is the day we serve the God that has protected and sustained our families through the years. If we are afraid of our children or can't bring ourselves to put up simple guidelines that brings the family on the same page in terms of prayer and Shabbos, we are doing something very wrong as parents.

            

Despite all the problems, "Yaakov's sons were twelve." (35:12) With God's help, and properly standing for what "our family believes in," we should merit to raise children who not only follow our examples for the good, but who surpass our expectations in their observance of the Torah, their relationships with God, and their religious experiences.

Being a Better Parent Than...?

Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

            

The Torah describes one interaction between Avraham and Yishmael (his banishment in chapter 21), one interaction between Avraham and Yitzchak (the "Akedah" of chapter 22), and one interaction between Yitzchak and his sons in the blessing episode of chapters 27-28.     

            

From an objective perspective, judging only the human element without the divine instructions to listen to Sarah and to take Yitzchak to a mountain, Avraham's parenting skills don't pass muster.

            

Perhaps Yitzchak decided "When I am a parent, I will do things differently. I will not alienate my children. I will not do things that will cause them to resent me later in life." When any child becomes a parent, the opportunity to "prove" or live out such a notion comes when similar circumstances present themselves and the "enlightened" parent can make different parenting choices from those s/he witnessed or experienced as a child.

            

The parallels in the stories are too many to ignore.

            

In both circumstances we have: an elderly father, an older and a younger son, the latter being overly protected by his mother from the older one taking his inheritance, instruction for marriage to take place with people of Aram (or the family living there), references to hunting, a blessing for the older son to be a great nation.

            

The contrasts of parenting choices are notable as well.

            

Yitzchak modeled an age for marriage – and Eisav followed it, getting married at age 40. But Yitzchak did not instruct whom to marry – giving freedom of choice – which came back to bite him (26:34-35).

            

Yitzchak speaks with his older son. Instead of sending him out of his life, he sends him on a mission, to give him merits which will help him earn his blessing.

Whereas when he was the son Yitzchak initiated the only conversation with his father the Torah records, as a father he engages his son in conversation ("My Father," "Here I am, my son" becomes "My son," "Here I am").

Unlike at the Akedah when Avraham brought things that God did not tell him to take (knife, wood, fire), Yitzchak tells Eisav exactly what to take for his mission.

Instead of sending him out with food which may run out, as Avraham did to Yishmael, Yitzchak instructs Eisav to prepare and bring back food.

Eisav, the older son, does not need to see his mother abandon him at a distance of an arrow-shot, a memory which may have contributed to Yishmael's picking up the bow professionally (21:16,20). Yitzchak encourages Eisav's bow-wielding activities (27:3)

            

Hagar is shown the water which will help Yishmael survive, and he is saved because of his sincere prayer. Eisav cries out in a most heartfelt manner over the loss of the blessing taken by Yaakov, and he receives the blessing of "You will live by your sword."

            

Unlike in Yitzchak's case, where he never left home and did nothing to procure a wife for himself, it is decided that the younger son will be sent away for the time being, where he will actively pursue a mate.

            

Without Avraham's instruction, Yishmael marries an Egyptian (just as Avraham did in taking Hagar), avoiding the Canaanite women. Only after hearing Yitzchak tell Yaakov the qualities of a proper shidduch does Eisav (in a moment of irony closing the family circle) take the daughter of Yishmael as a wife.

             

The blessings given to Yaakov and Eisav are physical blessings, quite similar, and are unrelated to the blessing of Avraham, which it seems Yitzchak always intended to give to Yaakov.

Ironically, even Yitzchak's best laid plans backfire. When Yaakov enters, he too reproduces the conversation Yitzchak had with his father. "My father," "Hineni, who are you, my son?" "I am Eisav your first born, I've done as you ask, please rise to eat so you may bless me." "So fast?" "God helped me." "Let me feel you – are you really Eisav?... The voice is the voice of Yaakov, but the hands are Eisav's hands."

In the big picture, Yitzchak chooses to: stay out of shidduch advice until zero hour (failing with Eisav), be more sensitive to his older child than Avraham was to his (fail because Yaakov received the blessing), encourage the not-so-Jewish profession of hunting (fail - at least according to Chazal), try to create a system of equality between brothers (fail). While Yishmael's prayer was answered with a spring of water to help his survival, Eisav cried out (no prayer), and his father blessed him with survival-by-the-sword (is that the best "survival" we can hope for?). And Yitzchak plays favorites as well, giving the blessing of Avraham to Yaakov alone.

And so it seems even the best laid plans are not foolproof. And as much as people might think they'll be better parents than theirs' were, the fact is that each person has a unique personality, unique character traits, and does things differently. In some ways, we always hope we are improving on what was given to us. But hopefully we still respect our parents even though we don't agree with all their parenting choices. And while we hope we are doing a better job as well, we too are not perfect. And when our kids grow up (or if they've grown up) and they show us our imperfections, hopefully we'll stifle our urge to speak when we notice theirs as well.

Trial and error. Succeed and fail. Learn from mistakes, and hopefully do better next time.

Modeling is Teaching

Parshat Haazinu

By Rabbi Avi Billet

The song of Haazinu is quite poetic, complete with imagery which invites the most lyrical interpretation.

           
In the context of describing how amazing and incredible God is, Devarim 32:5 reads, "ShiHet lo lo banav mumam, dor ikesh u'f'taltol." In the Living Torah, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan follows the interpretations of Ralbag; Malbim and HaKethav VeHaKabbalah in his chosen interpretation, "Destruction is His children's fault, not His own, you warped and twisted generation."

            
But in the large footnote, he demonstrates the discrepancy of opinion as to what this verse means.

            
"Literally, 'Destruction to Him not His children their defect.' Or, 'They have hurt themselves, not Him, faulted children' (Targum); 'The defect of His non-children is that they have been corrupt to Him' (Ibn Ezra; Ramban; Sforno); 'They were corrupt to Him, not [like] children; this is the defect of the warped and twisted generation' (Saadia; cf. Lekach Tov); 'They have been corrupt, not Him, it is His children's defect' (Ralbag); 'The ones who have corrupted His [name] are not His children because of their defect' (Abarbanel); 'Is destruction His? No! It is the fault of His children' (Moreh Nevukhim 3:12; Chizzkuni); 'Have they corrupted Him? No. It is [merely] their own defect' (Abarbanel); 'He destroyed His non-children, but it was their own fault' (Chizzkuni); 'Their defect has corrupted it so that they are no longer His children' (Hirsch); or, 'They were corrupt, not [pleasing] Him, defective children' (Septuagint)."

           

 As comprehensive as he is in explaining the verse, Rabbi Kaplan did not get to the Chafetz Chaim, who explained the verse as an important introspective lesson – not with regard to Him (God), but him, a father, who ought to model a proper Jewish existence to his children.

            

"If a person conducts himself in such a manner that he mocks mitzvot, he should know that  'He is not just destroying himself ('lo lo' meaning "not only to himself"), but "banav mumam," he brings blemishes upon his children as well. Because if the father dismisses a light or easy mitzvah, the child will learn to make light of more difficult or more important mitzvot (mitzvot chamurot). This results in a "dor ikesh u'f'taltol," a generation that is warped and twisted."

           
Now that we are past Yom Kippur and about to commence the holiday of Sukkot, this message is more poignant than ever. While we live in a time in which the parents currently raising children are of the most well-yeshiva-educated of the last few generations, the challenges which face today's kids are like nothing that ever existed before.

           

One need only look at films made in the 1980s and 1990s to see how different our world is, from cellphones and computers to text messaging and email. We communicate differently. Most kids today don't know what a cord on a telephone is for, and wonder what purpose pay phones ever served. This is one minute example of how things are different. Over 300 channels on the television exacerbates many people's abilities to think creatively and to find more meaningful ways of occupying down time.

And so when it comes to the transmission of our heritage, we face an even different challenge. The breakdown of real communication has been amplified into different areas of Jewish life. We had a tradition of respect for people older than us that is fading. I grew up calling adults Mr. or Mrs. LastName. Kids today call adults by their first names.

The speed of television and film, the constant changing of angles and images, gives people even shorter attention spans than we can imagine. We are not training the same "zittsfleisch" that may have been more developed in previous generations. (Here's a shout out to two of my friends who have told me 'We are working on getting rid of the TV in the house.' Chazak Ve'Ematz!)

Most important, following the lesson of the Chafetz Chaim, we must reaffirm our commitment to having reverence for the Torah lifestyle we hold so dear. Those who talk in shul, men who don't wear tzitzis, those who don't prepare for Shabbos properly, those who gossip all the time, who complain about the school, who criticize the rabbi, who have bad tempers, who demonstrate over and over how they are not model Torah-citizens, who don't understand that being an observant Jew is about a whole lot more than only buying kosher, sending your kids to yeshiva, and keeping shabbos can not effectively transmit the best "chinuch" to their children and raise a generation that will be respectful of the things we know to respect, even if at times we are lax about them.

We must teach respect of elders, prioritize the environment we want to create in our homes, and respect every aspect of a Jewish life that can help protect our children from becoming a warped and twisted generation.

We can start by fulfilling the mitzvah "to rejoice in your holiday... [with your children and every person who is part of our community]" (Devarim 16:14) If we model it every day, the message will strike home. It always does.

Moshe's Failure

An Important Lesson in Education

  Parshat Va'Etchanan

  by Rabbi Avi Billet

 One of the more fascinating narratives in the Torah is the one surrounding the fate of Moshe, the great leader, and his passionate effort to gain entry into the Promised Land. In last week's parsha he seemed to imply that the episode of the spies doomed him to the same fate as the entire generation (Devarim 1:37).

 In this week's parsha, Moshe has a more cryptic explanation when, in the context of a paragraph in which he explains why God took the people out of Egypt to make them His special nation, "He got angry at me [because of] your words, and He swore I would not cross the Jordan, and I would not come into the land that Hashem your God is giving to you as an inheritance." (4:21) No further explanation is given here beyond blaming "your words."

 Why, then, was Moshe barred from entering the land? Is Moshe referring to the spies incident? The rock incident? Something else? Which "words" uttered by the people may have brought upon him the devastating fate that he tries over and over to have reversed?

The Or HaChaim points out that Moshe's reference to "not crossing the Jordan" as well as "not coming to the land" covers his non-entry in life, or in death (to be buried there), respectively. The traditional approach has all of Yaakov's sons' remains being brought to the land for burial. Moshe is excluded even from this. Why could he not even be buried in the land? Because of their words.

 What were their words?

 The Shakh on the Torah suggests that the anger that God wrought on Moshe was at the Golden Calf incident. When God told Moshe to "Go down" (Shmot 32:7) He meant "Go down from your greatness." Perhaps the underlying message is, "What kind of leader leaves his people in such a state that when he is missing for a 40 day period, they not only don't have more patience, but they go to such an extreme that they create a golden image and seemingly serve it?" This is a failure of leadership.

 The Shakh goes on to say that Moshe's response to the people in the rock incident (Bamidbar 20) hardly fits with his words here – "their words" there, complaining for water, could certainly not be viewed as causing his non-entry to the Land.

 Taking Moshe's message home, Ramban provides the most poignant message in his illuminating comment on this verse. He explains Moshe's words as meaning "God commanded me to teach you the commandments, that you will do in the Land when you cross over [the river] to get there. So, take the lesson, because I will be dying in Moab and I will not be able to teach you in the Land. [When you are] there, don't forget what I have taught you. Nor what you saw in Sinai… God was angry with me on account of worry that you will forget the covenant with God." This is why when Moshe repeats the "Ten Statements," he mentions "as God commanded you" (5:12,16) as if to say, "What I am telling you here was not my own words – it was never my words. All of my teachings come from God."

 What then were "their words?" On a simple level, it is likely words of rebellion that were legitimately out of place – which, as the Shakh points out, is likely not the incident with the rock. Does it matter if it was the Golden Calf, the spies, or something else? I think the point is that it's very hard to square Moshe's failure on a single incident. The punishment, as it were, does not fit any single crime.

 On a much deeper level, I think Ramban is suggesting that Moshe is saying, "I was punished because of your words, because I failed you as a teacher. I didn't understand your complaints. I didn't appreciate where you were coming from. I couldn't relate to you on your level. I may have advocated when you complained, but I didn't anticipate your needs in the right way. This lack on my part brought about the moral failures that fill the Torah, and is the reason I will not enter the land in life, and why not even my body will enjoy the benefit of burial in the land."

This is an incredible admission.

 Moshe is teaching every parent and teacher that God gets angry at us – the parents and teachers – on account of the words of those we are meant to teach, guide and inspire. We need to listen, to try hard to understand, and to respond in a way that is direct, pointed, and that helps the student or child overcome the obstacle, move past the challenging question or episode, with more clarity, with proper guidance. We need to provide answers that the children and students can appreciate and understand.

 And, most importantly, we need to be intellectually honest, without evading issues. Students and children can spot hypocrisy in an instant, and they also know when they're not being listened to or when their genuine concerns are misunderstood by those they look to for guidance. There is a big difference between the response elicited by our teaching or rebuke when a child says "I hate you" versus "I don't like what you're saying, but I respect you nonetheless because you respect me."

 Moshe concludes saying, "While I may not have understood you, I hope you will see that my teachings are good. Heed them, don't disregard them, don't forget what I have taught you."

 May we merit to learn from Moshe. Let us succeed in hearing "their words" so God may always be pleased with us in our roles as parents and teachers - horim and morim. And even when they don't like our methods, let us pray that the students and children will be able to see that our teachings are good, even though we, human beings that we are, are not perfect.

Because It's the Truth

This is an essay I wrote a few months ago. I was thinking of sending it to a Jewish newspaper, but whatever. The topic has been bugging me for a while, so I share with you in hopes it will reach someone who can relate.

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Sometimes coincidental occurrences over a short period of time relegate me to thinking that my life consists of monthly themes. One month my focus and thought will be on a particular question related to a Torah narrative. Another month I'll be preoccupied with an educational philosophy question. A fascinating book might occupy the better part of a few weeks' conversations, as messages and lessons gleaned from the book are consistently raised in the course of daily dialogues I'll engage in.

Of late, I've had a number of people, particularly parents in the 38-48 year-old range, approach me to talk about their children. The story is more or less the same. "My kid is a teenager. Judaism has no meaning to her/him. S/he has no interest in davening. How can I get this to change?"

Honor and Reverence

Parshat Kedoshim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In the listing of ingredients for the proper pursuit of holiness, the Torah puts reverence of one's parents and the observance of the Sabbath at the forefront, on just about equal footing.


Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch clarifies that the term used in the Torah "Imo v'aviv tira'u," which is often translated as "fear your parents," is better understood as an instruction to "be mindful of our parents and of our obligation to fulfill their wishes."

More importantly, Hirsch says, it is not "the good that parents do for their children, but the mission given to the parents concerning their children that is the basis of the mitzvah of honoring one's parents."

As to why observance of the Sabbath is attached so closely to the commandment to fulfill the wishes of the parents, Hirsch explains, "A child who sees his parents observing the Sabbath will learn from their example to place his world at G-d's feet; obedience to parents leads to obedience to G-d."

In a larger sense, the mitzvah of reverence for the parents should be an easy one to fulfill. If I owe everything, life itself, to my parents, I should logically want to repay the kindness and fulfill their every wish.

But Hirsch twists the idea on its head. It's not just about the fact that parents bring children into the world. Their responsibilities to their children do not end there. It is they who are to mold and shape and guide their children, so that their children will understand the role their parents play in raising them not only as ethical human beings but as incredible Jews.

This reverence of parents, then, is merely a reflection of the reverence of G-d that the parents demonstrate and display to their children on a daily basis.

Whenever I try to talk to younger children about G-d, I always use their parents as the example. "When you want something and you ask your parents for it, do they always give it to you? Or do they sometimes say 'No?'"

What's fascinating is that the Sabbath and honoring one's parents share similar billing in the Decalogue, and both appear there with a different action word. We are told in Shmot 20 to "Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy," and to "Honor your parents."

In his book "Or HaDeah," Hassidic Rabbi Uri Langer suggests that just as Shamor and Zachor were said in one saying with regard to the Sabbath (Rosh Hashana 27), Kavod and Yirah – Honoring and Revering were said in one saying with regard to how one is to relate to one's parents.

It is easy to honor one's parents when they are gone – to say kaddish, to commemorate a yahrzeit, to say the kel malei rachamim, to speak of them in a respectful way. On equal footing is the obligation to revere them – to listen and to fulfill their will - when they are alive. One reveres one's parents through following their ways.

In the end, the responsibility is two directional. The child has to follow the ways of the parent, but the parent must make the life choices and commitments to be admired by and desirable to the child.

It is no one else's responsibility. Not the school, not the shul, not the rabbi, not one's friend, not even one's own parents (the children's grandparents). It is my responsibility. It is your responsibility. The honor is earned through bringing the children into the world. We will all surely be honored once we're gone.

But the reverence is what we really aspire to, and truly want from and for our children – to follow the path we have chosen and to want with all their hearts and souls to carry it to the next generation.

Maybe observance of the Sabbath is a good first ingredient to achieving the reverence. But even observance of the Sabbath requires a lot more than "not violating the law." We must make Shabbos a day of holiness of beauty and the beginnings of a family bond that creates reverence of the holy day and reverence of G-d.

Through this first ingredient, may those of us who are parents merit to enjoy the honor and reverence we receive as we model it for our children through our own honor and reverence for G-d.

Married With Children - Sunday Morning at Temple Solel

This morning, I participated in a program for the religious school parents who brought their children to Temple Solel's Sunday morning program. Thanks to Rabbi Kurtz-Lendner for organizing the program, and of course for the introduction and for his participation.

Our topic was "Married With Children" - though we left Al Bundy and his machinations out of the equation.

Instead, our focus was on lessons to be learned from our forefathers and mothers, in the Torah portions of yesterday (Chayei Sarah) and this coming Shabbat (Toldot).

With a merging of drama and discussion, we focused on five points to be learned from the ways in which Abraham, Isaac and Rebekah raised their children.

1. Abraham makes a concerted effort to help his son find a spouse.

While most of us do not experience parental involvement in the choosing of our mate, as parents we can be involved in the process leading up to important life decisions our children make.

2. Rebekah recognizes the different nature of each child

From the time she was pregnant with her twins, she knew each one was different. Even twins can be dramatically different from each other. It is important to recognize the differences and never to assume that just because they are being raised in the same home that the same methods will work for both (or all) of them. And, of course, to relate to each child in a different way, in a way suitable to the needs of the individual child.

We compared this to the Cain and Abel story (interestingly, Esav is a farmer and Jacob is a shepherd, which are the same professions as Cain and Abel respectively). Cain and Abel each brought an offering to God: Abel's was accepted and Cain's was rejected. Abel had brought the choice of his flock, while Cain had brought secondary items.

It was not that God compared Cain's secondary offering to Abel's choice offering. Cain was compared against himself, and what he could have brought had he only cared more.

Children should never be compared to one another. They should only be measured against their own potential.

3. Isaac and Rebekah parent differently - and love their children differently

The Torah tells us that Isaac loved Esav because of the 'food he put in his mouth,' while Rebekah simply 'loved Jacob' - with no reason attached.

While a parent may "prefer" one child over another - and it also may depend on the day - it is never a good idea to express this to children. There are no favorites.

Additionally, love must be unconditional. The moment Isaac receives food from the diguised Jacob, he blesses Jacob, because he loves the bearer of food not for who he is but for what he does.

4. Isaac and Rebekah share a vision of what is best for their child

Recognizing the danger Jacob is in due to the violent tendencies of Esav (and his self-admitted plan to kill Jacob), the two parents discuss and conclude that Jacob's best bet is to go to her brother's home where he can continue his life. They know his presence will lead, minimally, to discomfort in the home, and maximally to his death. Together they come up with a plan that will work for everyone - though the amount of time he stays away (22 years) is not anticipated.

5. Subliminal Messages

One thing Esav did learn from his father is to marry at age 40. The problem is that Abraham establishd a rule for the family that the men marry women from his hometown - Charan - and not from the women of Canaan.

Esav's wives were Hittite women, and they were a tremendous source of anguish to his parents

However, when he heard that his parents did not approve of such marriages, he immediately went and married his first cousing, the daughter of Yishmael.

Sometimes a subliminal or subversive message can get the point a cross in a clearer way, such that the child gets the message without feeling the need to reject or revolt against what is being said and/or modeled in the home.

Our discussion

We had a lovely discussion between us and focused on the need to not only study, but demonstrate and explain to our children that they are not the only ones attending classes and furthering their Jewish experience and Jewish education.

This is the first ingredient in assuring Jewish continuity: creating a culture of continued learning, as we learn lessons from our ancient texts, as they speak to us in each generation.