Parshat Shlach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Last weekend earned some off-the-track Jewish attention. On Thursday of last week, Mexican jockey Victor Espinoza made his way to the Chabad Ohel and the grave of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. The spiritual man was looking for some divine intervention to help him win the Triple Crown.
On Saturday, the “Jewish horse,” the ironically named American Pharoah, owned by the Jewish Egyptian-American Zayat family, running under the aforementioned jockey, did indeed make history, being the first horse to win the coveted horse-racing title in 37 years.
The CBS report on Espinoza’s visit to the Rebbe noted that it was probably the first time anyone prayed for a pharaoh at the Ohel. But I suppose that the horse’s purposely misspelled name makes it alright.
Watching Ahmed Zayat explain how God comes first for his family, and hearing of their plans to camp out in Belmont for Shabbos in order to be present for the race, one can’t help but think that while their horse’s name might include a nod to their Egyptian origins, they have no intent to ever return there.
Not that this is surprising. Why would anyone who had suffered or been oppressed by Egypt ever want to return there?
This is precisely the dilemma we are faced with when we read Bamidbar 14:2-4: “The entire community was saying, 'We wish we had died in Egypt! We should have died in this desert! Why is God bringing us to this land to die by the sword? Our wives and children will be captives! It would be best to go back to Egypt!' The people started saying to one another, 'Let's appoint a [new] leader and go back to Egypt.'”
Having been the victims of slavery and oppression, we wonder how the Israelites could possibly contemplate returning to Egypt, even when faced with what seems to be the dangerous nature of the Canaanites. Even if Canaan seems to be a less than favorable option, having seen that they can survive in the wilderness, wouldn’t no-man’s-land be a suitable alternative over a return to bondage?
The simplest answer is the most obvious one. They may not have preferred Egypt, but at least they were familiar with Egypt. They knew what to expect.
And the Chizkuni interprets along these lines when he suggests the Israelites were saying, “When we were in Egypt, when someone died he would leave his belongings to his relatives or neighbors. But now, anything a person “leaves behind” is lost.”
Think about the negative episode of Korach, in which those swallowed by the ground lost everything, leaving nothing for whatever surviving children they may have had.
Tzlafchad, who is much more positively portrayed in the Torah, also leaves nothing to his daughters upon his death (a controversial reality until the law is clarified).
In this light, the desire to return to Egypt is really to return to a life that is relatively routine, when a nation is not living out of suitcases, and when they can settle in a reality that is, at least to their knowledge and experience, normal.
The Alshikh adds an insight that touches completely on the psyche of the people, due to their awareness of history. The people knew that the promise to Avraham had been for his children to be strangers in a strange land for 400 years. They also knew that from the time Yaakov came down to Egypt until the Exodus, only 210 years had passed. Many may have felt there were 190 years to go, albeit in a different location. And this was the rub, because they knew how their women and children had been treated in Egypt: relatively well. But there was a tremendous amount of uncertainty as to how a Canaanite or Emorite bondage would have translated into mistreatment of the women and children. And so, the return to Egypt was offered as an option because it seemed the better of two evils.
We are the beneficiaries of 20-20 hindsight. We know that the choices and decisions, as well as the thought processes of the Israelites were out of line. We know they followed the advice of 10 spies instead of the two righteous ones who were faith-driven men preaching what they knew to be correct on account of their relationships with the Divine. We know that if the spies incident had gone differently, the people likely would have been in the land within days or weeks, not 40 years. And we know that had Moshe led them into Canaan, they wouldn’t have experienced Canaan as “an evil” in any way.
The question is if we would have behaved any differently? How many people are ready to leave a less-than-perfect yet familiar life to branch off into the “eretz lo zarua” – the land of the unknown? Who feels comfortable moving to a new place where the promises that have been offered haven’t been actualized yet?
While hopefully our options are not even remotely similar to Egyptian bondage or Canaanite bondage, life presents its own set of challenges that sometimes push people to seek personally greener pastures in education, employment, self-employment, what neighborhood, state, or country to live in, and in how to raise a family.
Some people may not like that the Zayats attended the Belmont race. Perhaps horse racing is not in the spirit of Shabbos. But I think that with the bad press certain elements of the Orthodox world have been getting, the example the Zayats set in stating that God comes first, in wearing their Shabbos clothes to the races and in camping out so they could be in attendance without driving, is a welcome Kiddush Hashem.
Seeing a Jewish family engage in their greener pasture while respectably honoring their God does not even fall into the equation of the lesser of two evils. Maybe not all of us would have done the same in similar circumstances (honestly, most Americans do not understand the subtleties of Shabbos questions). But the Kiddush Hashem aspect cannot be overlooked. It is a hallmark of the Jewish people that the spies, and people who followed them, overlooked. You honor God first. And then pray that everything else will fall into place.
And with American Pharoah, it seems everything did.
Showing posts with label shlach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shlach. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The Missing Alef – God in Our Lives
Parshat Shlach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Towards the end of Shlach, the Torah gives us instructions for a case of what Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitles, “Communal Sin Offerings for Idolatry,” based no doubt on Rashi’s explanation of the phrase, “When [the collective] you err and don’t do all of these commandments.”
15:22 declares, “[This is the law] if you inadvertently [commit an act of idolatry]…” The community then becomes responsible to “prepare one young bull for a burnt offering as an appeasing fragrance to God, along with its prescribed grain offering and libation. [They must also present] one goat for a sin offering.” (15:24)
On account of the inadvertence of the sin, the Torah goes on to explain, the community has a much easier time achieving atonement, as opposed to if the sins had been purposeful.
It is hard to understand how the entire nation would inadvertently commit an act of idolatry. Though maybe a case of Trudeaumania (or any similar hype), or a mistaken belief that a spiritual act of some kind is proper when it is in fact idolatrous, are possibilities.
In either case, the way the Torah depicts the sin offering to be brought is odd. The Hebrew word for this offering is a “Chatat” – normally containing the letters chet, tet, alef, taf. In this case, however, for the only time in the Torah when “chatat” appears, the silent alef is not merely silent. It is missing.
Why would the Torah leave out a letter that is part of the word? I may not really need the “o” in “enough.” But without it, the word is “enugh.” Even if in context we know what it is, the misspelling should not have a place in the Torah!
Sure enough, a number of sources and commentators try to explain the missing Alef.
The Sifrei (Midrash) explains there is a lesson here, that the sin offering is indeed for mistakenly committing an act of idolatry. Just as the alef is the first letter, idolators rebelled against God’s oneness, being the first of all existence.
Rashi suggests this sin offering is different from all others because with every other sin offering that accompanies an olah (burnt offering) the sin offering is listed first. Here the olah is listed first. The missing alef, therefore, is a call to attention to this anomaly.
Kli Yakar expands on Rashi, explaining that idolatry is unique in that a person who commits it is considered as having committed all the sins of the Torah. In every other “accidental” sin, the person commits an act of thought and action. If there is no thought or intent, it isn’t “inadvertent” any more – it is “oness” (blameless) (an example of oness is if I am obeying traffic rules and my car breaks something that has been thrown in front of it with no way for me to avoid it). A sinner normally needs to bring two offerings for atonement – the olah for the thought process, and the chatat for the actual deed. Thought is not normally punished if there is no subsequent action (see Tehillim 66:18).
Normally the chatat comes first because the action is the bigger sin, even though it came second.
However, when it comes to idolatry, the thought process (atoned through the olah) is the bigger sin, because that is where the denial of God and His role in the world begins. The action is merely a manifestation of the misdeed of thought. “This is why ‘chatat’ is written without an alef, because alef has the numerical value of one which teaches us about the Oneness of God. A person who commits an act of idolatry contradicts God’s Oneness. This is demonstrated through the missing Alef, because that [missing the Alef] is actually the person’s sin. Unlike other sins where the thought is meaningless without the action, the thought process of idolatry [is the source of the person’s problems].”
Basing himself on the Talmud (Horayot13), the Torah Temimah presents the argument that the chatat offering in this case, is a lesser chatat offering than others – presumably because the main offering here is the olah, for the thought process.
To summarize, it seems clear that the missing alef is a call to attention (Rashi). Either we have the possibility that the missing Alef is symbolic of God’s Oneness (Sifrei) or it is literally the Torah’s way of telling us what the sin here is (Kli Yakar). From all cases we note that the sin offering is mentioned second to the olah because the greater sin here is in the thought process, which achieves its atonement through the olah [the sin of thought and its olah normally being the lesser of the two evils of thought and action]. Perhaps the missing alef also notes that in this context the action makes the chatat offering lesser important because it is a lesser word than usual.
While literal idolatry in the form of worshipping idols is not a mainstream problem, there are still proverbial idols that we tend to worship. And the missing alef is a reminder to us that when our thoughts wander from our heavenward goals, that is the bigger sin. When we plan our lives, for example, around television shows instead of around our chavrusas and Torah learning opportunities, we are guilty of the thought process of idolatry.
In this post-Shavuos week, we need to remind ourselves that being the People of the Book does not only mean that we honor the Torah, or that we have libraries in our homes. It means we must read our books and create homes in which God is at the forefront of our minds at all times. This will certainly help prevent sins of thought, as we build our God-fearing qualities which help us get closer to God. We don’t want any missing Alefs in our collective Jewish experiences.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Towards the end of Shlach, the Torah gives us instructions for a case of what Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitles, “Communal Sin Offerings for Idolatry,” based no doubt on Rashi’s explanation of the phrase, “When [the collective] you err and don’t do all of these commandments.”
15:22 declares, “[This is the law] if you inadvertently [commit an act of idolatry]…” The community then becomes responsible to “prepare one young bull for a burnt offering as an appeasing fragrance to God, along with its prescribed grain offering and libation. [They must also present] one goat for a sin offering.” (15:24)
On account of the inadvertence of the sin, the Torah goes on to explain, the community has a much easier time achieving atonement, as opposed to if the sins had been purposeful.
It is hard to understand how the entire nation would inadvertently commit an act of idolatry. Though maybe a case of Trudeaumania (or any similar hype), or a mistaken belief that a spiritual act of some kind is proper when it is in fact idolatrous, are possibilities.
In either case, the way the Torah depicts the sin offering to be brought is odd. The Hebrew word for this offering is a “Chatat” – normally containing the letters chet, tet, alef, taf. In this case, however, for the only time in the Torah when “chatat” appears, the silent alef is not merely silent. It is missing.
Why would the Torah leave out a letter that is part of the word? I may not really need the “o” in “enough.” But without it, the word is “enugh.” Even if in context we know what it is, the misspelling should not have a place in the Torah!
Sure enough, a number of sources and commentators try to explain the missing Alef.
The Sifrei (Midrash) explains there is a lesson here, that the sin offering is indeed for mistakenly committing an act of idolatry. Just as the alef is the first letter, idolators rebelled against God’s oneness, being the first of all existence.
Rashi suggests this sin offering is different from all others because with every other sin offering that accompanies an olah (burnt offering) the sin offering is listed first. Here the olah is listed first. The missing alef, therefore, is a call to attention to this anomaly.
Kli Yakar expands on Rashi, explaining that idolatry is unique in that a person who commits it is considered as having committed all the sins of the Torah. In every other “accidental” sin, the person commits an act of thought and action. If there is no thought or intent, it isn’t “inadvertent” any more – it is “oness” (blameless) (an example of oness is if I am obeying traffic rules and my car breaks something that has been thrown in front of it with no way for me to avoid it). A sinner normally needs to bring two offerings for atonement – the olah for the thought process, and the chatat for the actual deed. Thought is not normally punished if there is no subsequent action (see Tehillim 66:18).
Normally the chatat comes first because the action is the bigger sin, even though it came second.
However, when it comes to idolatry, the thought process (atoned through the olah) is the bigger sin, because that is where the denial of God and His role in the world begins. The action is merely a manifestation of the misdeed of thought. “This is why ‘chatat’ is written without an alef, because alef has the numerical value of one which teaches us about the Oneness of God. A person who commits an act of idolatry contradicts God’s Oneness. This is demonstrated through the missing Alef, because that [missing the Alef] is actually the person’s sin. Unlike other sins where the thought is meaningless without the action, the thought process of idolatry [is the source of the person’s problems].”
Basing himself on the Talmud (Horayot13), the Torah Temimah presents the argument that the chatat offering in this case, is a lesser chatat offering than others – presumably because the main offering here is the olah, for the thought process.
To summarize, it seems clear that the missing alef is a call to attention (Rashi). Either we have the possibility that the missing Alef is symbolic of God’s Oneness (Sifrei) or it is literally the Torah’s way of telling us what the sin here is (Kli Yakar). From all cases we note that the sin offering is mentioned second to the olah because the greater sin here is in the thought process, which achieves its atonement through the olah [the sin of thought and its olah normally being the lesser of the two evils of thought and action]. Perhaps the missing alef also notes that in this context the action makes the chatat offering lesser important because it is a lesser word than usual.
While literal idolatry in the form of worshipping idols is not a mainstream problem, there are still proverbial idols that we tend to worship. And the missing alef is a reminder to us that when our thoughts wander from our heavenward goals, that is the bigger sin. When we plan our lives, for example, around television shows instead of around our chavrusas and Torah learning opportunities, we are guilty of the thought process of idolatry.
In this post-Shavuos week, we need to remind ourselves that being the People of the Book does not only mean that we honor the Torah, or that we have libraries in our homes. It means we must read our books and create homes in which God is at the forefront of our minds at all times. This will certainly help prevent sins of thought, as we build our God-fearing qualities which help us get closer to God. We don’t want any missing Alefs in our collective Jewish experiences.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Moshe's Teachable Moment – Commitment to a Long Term Goal
Parshat Shlach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Every time we consider a conversation between God and Moshe, the absurdity of the concept of Moshe "teaching" God something becomes apparent.
There is no question that God exhibits a sense of concern for His name. He does not like when people disgrace His name, misrepresent Him, or behave in a manner that is ungodly. There are a number of times in the Torah when the people act so poorly and with such disregard for God, His kindness, and all the things He has done for them, one wonders how their heads concoct some of the shenanigans and complaints they come up with and act upon.
But the strangest part is not as much when Moshe comes to their defense. He is, after all, their shepherd. It is, after all, his job to defend and protect them. The difficulty is that his logical arguments on their behalf seem so obvious. One wonders why he needed to tell them to God. And why God, seemingly, did not come up with them on His own.
The whole premise of this suggestion is heretical. If God is the Almighty, the all-seeing and the all-knowing, then God knows the past and the future. Nothing is hidden from Him. Rabbi Akiva says in Avot chapter 3, "Everything is foreseen, but free will is given." Humans have free will, but only God knows what will happen.
This is why the middle of Bamidbar chapter 14 is so confusing. It really looks like Moshe is playing the role of the psychologist and chief advisor to God. "Moshe replied to God, 'And what will happen when the Egyptians hear about it? You have brought this nation out from among them with Your great power! And what if they tell the people who live in this land? They have heard that You, God, have been with this nation [Israel
Rashi says Moshe was suggesting everyone will think God had the power over the Egyptians, but He could not defeat the Canaanites.
Ramban and others focus on the perspective that others will perceive that God could only defeat Egyptian gods but was no match for Canaanite gods.
I would like to suggest that Moshe is not teaching God a lesson, or causing God to consider a different perspective. God is well aware of all the permutations and possibilities of how Man thinks. Moshe, who grew up in the house of Pharaoh, is well aware of the Egyptian mindset. His prayer comes on account of his personal lament over the folly of trying to pick up the pieces after God decimates the Israelite nation.
This is not about God. This is about Moshe.
When a person dedicates one's life to a project, with a very clear goal, the thing that keeps the person going is that goal, and the need to see it through to the end. These people, obstinate and stiff-necked and difficult as they may be, are Moshe's people. He loves them and cares for them.
This God, Who chose Moshe, has the most incredible reputation, and inspires awe and fear among nations. In Moshe's mind's eye, there is no sense in working for a God whose reputation has been diminished.
Moshe is saying, "I know how the Egyptians think. I know what they'll say – about You and about us. And I don't want any part of that! My job was to take care of these people, and once they are all dead my job will end."
This is the ultimate lesson in what it takes to be committed to a cause, and what it takes to stand for your principles. God doesn't change His mind because Moshe convinced Him to. God "changed His mind" because He wasn't ready for Moshe to hang up his gloves forever.
Moshe could not accept the notion that a new world would be created when he saw the beauty, strength, power and possibility that existed in the one he knew. And he could not bear the thought that Egypt
God's possible destruction of that goal, which would either affect Moshe's life directly, or indirectly through the media channels of the day which would criticize God, were enough to warrant Moshe's objection. Moshe's objection was not to convince God to behave otherwise, as much as it was to show Moshe's dedication to the people and his readiness to lead them through thick and thin – even 40 years of wandering in the wilderness.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Lone Voice - Shlach Sermon 2010
See ">this video
It is amazing to watch how a young man, who does nothing other than wear an IDF t-shirt and carry two flags, can incite a crowd to lose their reason (if they had any). Most normal people would ignore a single "counterprotestor." And he wasn't even loud, and didn't say anything until the news people asked him questions.
I don't like to talk politics - there are people smarter, more knowledgeable and worldly than I who can discuss these things. In the context of a sermon (or even this blog), politics, to my mind, has no place.
It is amazing to watch how a young man, who does nothing other than wear an IDF t-shirt and carry two flags, can incite a crowd to lose their reason (if they had any). Most normal people would ignore a single "counterprotestor." And he wasn't even loud, and didn't say anything until the news people asked him questions.
I don't like to talk politics - there are people smarter, more knowledgeable and worldly than I who can discuss these things. In the context of a sermon (or even this blog), politics, to my mind, has no place.
But sometimes, something happens. Sometimes a few people, sent by a greater force, are instructed to find out information. To find out if their target is safe or not, good to go or not, peaceable or not, serving man honorably or not, looking to destroy outsiders or not, looking to bring people under their umbrella of peace or not.
And the result of their actions, their report, can have upheavals that impact the coming decades. After this particular action, no one knows what the future holds. We may not even see the complete unfolding of these events in our lifetimes.
It’s a frightening thought to consider. But as you may have imagined, the events of this week, with the so called Flotilla, are not new events. Kohelet rightly said there is nothing new under the sun. And in what way do the events of Sunday and Monday differ from the story of the spies that we read this morning?
The description I mentioned a moment ago can fit for both stories.
The differences between then and now are in how small our world is, how quickly mass media and the information superhighway get news around the world, and in that Moshe’s connection with God allowed the people to learn, right away, what the outcome of the spies incident would be. In their case, forty years in the wilderness for the forty days they spent spying, and then reporting critically of the land.
Do not misunderstand and think I am judging
Hanging a banner of “Peace activists” is meaningless when you carry a weapon in your back pocket that you will use in an instant. Gandhi was a peace activist. Martin Luther King Jr said brotherhood comes about when people are willing to “work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.” (towards the end, two paragraphs before "my Country Tis of Thee") His form of going to jail was as a result of civil disobedience. Love them or hate them, they caused change through not physically attacking their adversaries.
Standing up for freedom is a completely different outlook than bashing investigating coast guard officers over the head with a metal bar.
In his address in Gettysburg, President Abraham Lincoln said, “The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here.” We know, of course, that he was wrong, but I use the same line about what I say and about what most rabbis say as well on Shabbos morning. Which is why I don’t like to talk about politics.
Politics gets some people riled up, especially when they disagree with someone who they think is so blind to the reality and unaware of the facts. Everyone picks the facts that they want, and spins the “facts” the way they want to see them or present them.
What makes my opinion any better than your opinion?
The only thing that I’ll say is this – and these words are inspired by one of the most clearheaded and brilliant journalists on our side of the aisle, Caroline Glick.
We are living in a frightening time. Between a President who gives every indication that Iran is more his friend than is Israel, and a “United Nations” who claims to be the majority of the opinion of the world when the only time they seem to be united is for one kind of decision, the kind that bashes Israel, the Jewish people have much to be concerned about.
If we aren’t writing to or calling our politicians to express our fear that
The Talmud records in many places שתיקה כהודאה (Yevamos 87b-88a, Baba Metzia 37b), that when one is silent, one gives and indication that one agrees with what is going on and what has been said.
While I will never say that “x happens or happened because of y” I do think it is safe to say that if we do not take action, do not make a loud noise, do not express our disappointment in the current administration’s view of Israel, do not vote out of office people who do not subscribe to the interests that best suit our needs as a people, Israel as we know it will, in the perhaps not-so-distant future, cease to exist. The freedoms we enjoy in this country will come under attack.
It won’t be the fault of a flotilla incident. Much like the spies, spying was not the problem. The problem was the aftermath – the bad reporting –
No, it was not about what took place on the boat. The problem will continue to be in how Jews and nations react to the story. If all people can see is critique, and no one can see Israel’s side, how they were provoked, how they had no chance to look good because the “suicidal activists” didn’t care if they lived or died, it would be understood that the fight is not a simple one. In addition to whatever else people scream about, the longest hatred, what we call anti-Semitism, is what is behind all of the protests, resolutions, and articles slamming the Jewish State.
In their eyes, the world would be a better place were all Jews, particularly those in
The Jews in the time of Moshe followed the masses who criticized the
Only two people, two lone voices, said “This is not right. It is a good land.”
And those two individuals, Yehoshua and Kalev, entered the Promised Land. They got to see what life would be like after those 40 years. They outlived their peers and saw the conclusion of the first redemption. And lived to see what the Promised Land not only looked like, but what it felt like to live in it.
Was there ever true peace in their days? During the tenure of certain leaders there was, before more upheaval, more unrest and more fighting.
What goes around comes around. The
We do not have the luxury of knowing when the redemption will come. Perhaps we don’t know what it will look like.
But if we do nothing to stop those who will say
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Don't Listen To Them - Know Who You Are!
This article appears in the Jewish Star
Parshat Shlach
In the last verse of their statement the spies say, "And there we saw the Nefilim, the sons of the [original] giant of the Nefilim. In our own eyes we felt like grasshoppers, and so we were in their eyes [as well]." (13:33)
How did they know how the Nefilim viewed them?
Rashi says they heard the Nefilim saying to one another, "There are ants (N'malim) in the vineyards that look like men."
Siftei Chachamim asks, if they were like grasshoppers, why would Rashi say they were like ants?
There are a few answers to this question.
Some super-commentaries on Rashi suggest that there are always two perspectives. The smaller person always thinks he is bigger than how the bigger person perceives him, while the bigger person always views the smaller person as even smaller than the smaller person perceives himself. Think of how you view houses when you are flying over them in a plane. The house might be huge, but from the plane it is tiny.
In some Chumashim, the text of Rashi includes the word they heard the Nefilim use to describe them in the Torah, Chagavim, in parentheses next to "N'malim" (ants). As such, there are differences of opinion as to what Rashi wrote, even though the standard text has Rashi using the word for ants.
Rashi is actually quoting a passage in Sotah 35a that says the spies were looking around, and when the locals spotted them, they hid in trees. At that point they heard the Nefilim say, "We've seen men that look like 'Kamtzei' hiding in the trees." According to the Jastrow dictionary, Kamtzei might be locusts, ants or snails.
Either way, Chizkuni says when the Torah uses the word "Chagavim" (grasshoppers) it is not a direct quote of what they said, because the term "Chagavim" is used elsewhere as well to refer to small critters. (Isaiah 40:22)
Does it matter how they were perceived? Grasshoppers, ants, locusts, snails? Who cares?
No matter how we translate the term, they were quoting others who said they looked like tiny creatures. The Kotsker Rebbe calls this statement one of the spies’ greatest flaws. It is one thing to come back with a negative report. It is another thing to say you view yourself as a lowly person in comparison to others. But what gives you the right, the Kotsker asks, to give any kind of consideration to how others view you? Why do you care what they think?
This is not just a lesson in avoiding being like the Joneses.
And this is more than just a lesson in being comfortable in your own skin.
In 1971, Rabbi Emmanuel Rackman z"l wrote the following thought in an article in a Zionist publication: "I am a Jew and a Zionist. For me the two commitments are one. Furthermore, I hold this to be the position of historic Judaism...I must firmly ask [non-Jews] to respect my religious convictions as I see them and not as they see them."
In this vein, Rabbi Rackman showed complete understanding of the message the Kotsker Rebbe extracted from this tale, which is a powerful lesson in personal and Jewish identity.
On a personal level, if we are to judge ourselves by the way others see us, particularly when those others are unhappy or negative people, it will be difficult to remove ourselves from the rut we are placed in. Some people experience this when dating, some when being fired from a job - or even while in an unpleasant work environment, some in their interactions with relatives, some in not standing up for themselves when they are insulted.
Others have an attitude that says, "Nobody talks to me that way." More than that sticks and stones and names won't hurt me, we don't have to accept the negativity that comes from others. Criticism and rebuke is one thing, when offered constructively, appropriately, and in a manner that is meant to be helpful. But when it is hurtful, we need not accept it.
As far as Jewish identity, it is high time we look internally not only for those who are not Jewish not to tell us what we stand for, but even in our own ranks to be able to distinguish between what is the letter of the law and what falls into the category of "v'hamachmir tavo alav bracha" (that the personally stringent should be blessed).
There is a distinction between black, white, and gray. Halakha has a range of activities and rulings that are mainstream and acceptable. It is time for all of us to grow more tolerant, and not to impose our personal stringencies on others when they are not in violation of the law. Halakha and observance can be a beautiful lifestyle. But it was never meant to be stifling or to paint people into corners.
And acting or feeling negatively towards other Jews who subscribe to your lifestyle is completely out of place. What gives you the right?
*********************************************
p.s. Everyone is talking about the flotilla sent to Gaza by the Turkish government. There are many parallels between the story of this flotilla, all the bad PR that resulted from it, and even the lesson developed above (which was actually written before the events transpired earlier this week). My sermon this shabbos talks more about this subject.
Parshat Shlach
In the last verse of their statement the spies say, "And there we saw the Nefilim, the sons of the [original] giant of the Nefilim. In our own eyes we felt like grasshoppers, and so we were in their eyes [as well]." (13:33)
How did they know how the Nefilim viewed them?
Rashi says they heard the Nefilim saying to one another, "There are ants (N'malim) in the vineyards that look like men."
Siftei Chachamim asks, if they were like grasshoppers, why would Rashi say they were like ants?
There are a few answers to this question.
Some super-commentaries on Rashi suggest that there are always two perspectives. The smaller person always thinks he is bigger than how the bigger person perceives him, while the bigger person always views the smaller person as even smaller than the smaller person perceives himself. Think of how you view houses when you are flying over them in a plane. The house might be huge, but from the plane it is tiny.
In some Chumashim, the text of Rashi includes the word they heard the Nefilim use to describe them in the Torah, Chagavim, in parentheses next to "N'malim" (ants). As such, there are differences of opinion as to what Rashi wrote, even though the standard text has Rashi using the word for ants.
Rashi is actually quoting a passage in Sotah 35a that says the spies were looking around, and when the locals spotted them, they hid in trees. At that point they heard the Nefilim say, "We've seen men that look like 'Kamtzei' hiding in the trees." According to the Jastrow dictionary, Kamtzei might be locusts, ants or snails.
Either way, Chizkuni says when the Torah uses the word "Chagavim" (grasshoppers) it is not a direct quote of what they said, because the term "Chagavim" is used elsewhere as well to refer to small critters. (Isaiah 40:22)
Does it matter how they were perceived? Grasshoppers, ants, locusts, snails? Who cares?
No matter how we translate the term, they were quoting others who said they looked like tiny creatures. The Kotsker Rebbe calls this statement one of the spies’ greatest flaws. It is one thing to come back with a negative report. It is another thing to say you view yourself as a lowly person in comparison to others. But what gives you the right, the Kotsker asks, to give any kind of consideration to how others view you? Why do you care what they think?
This is not just a lesson in avoiding being like the Joneses.
And this is more than just a lesson in being comfortable in your own skin.
In 1971, Rabbi Emmanuel Rackman z"l wrote the following thought in an article in a Zionist publication: "I am a Jew and a Zionist. For me the two commitments are one. Furthermore, I hold this to be the position of historic Judaism...I must firmly ask [non-Jews] to respect my religious convictions as I see them and not as they see them."
In this vein, Rabbi Rackman showed complete understanding of the message the Kotsker Rebbe extracted from this tale, which is a powerful lesson in personal and Jewish identity.
On a personal level, if we are to judge ourselves by the way others see us, particularly when those others are unhappy or negative people, it will be difficult to remove ourselves from the rut we are placed in. Some people experience this when dating, some when being fired from a job - or even while in an unpleasant work environment, some in their interactions with relatives, some in not standing up for themselves when they are insulted.
Others have an attitude that says, "Nobody talks to me that way." More than that sticks and stones and names won't hurt me, we don't have to accept the negativity that comes from others. Criticism and rebuke is one thing, when offered constructively, appropriately, and in a manner that is meant to be helpful. But when it is hurtful, we need not accept it.
As far as Jewish identity, it is high time we look internally not only for those who are not Jewish not to tell us what we stand for, but even in our own ranks to be able to distinguish between what is the letter of the law and what falls into the category of "v'hamachmir tavo alav bracha" (that the personally stringent should be blessed).
There is a distinction between black, white, and gray. Halakha has a range of activities and rulings that are mainstream and acceptable. It is time for all of us to grow more tolerant, and not to impose our personal stringencies on others when they are not in violation of the law. Halakha and observance can be a beautiful lifestyle. But it was never meant to be stifling or to paint people into corners.
And acting or feeling negatively towards other Jews who subscribe to your lifestyle is completely out of place. What gives you the right?
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p.s. Everyone is talking about the flotilla sent to Gaza by the Turkish government. There are many parallels between the story of this flotilla, all the bad PR that resulted from it, and even the lesson developed above (which was actually written before the events transpired earlier this week). My sermon this shabbos talks more about this subject.
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