2 Kinds of Teshuvah

Rosh Hashana

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Anyone who has studied the concept of Teshuvah (Repentance) knows that there are two realms in which all of us need to improve: Between ourselves and fellow Man, and between ourselves and God.

One can argue that Teshuvah between Man and God is much more easily achieved. It is literally lip service, along with a commitment of some kind to change one’s ways. Plus Yom Kippur, and your atonement potion is complete.

 For sins between ourselves and fellow Man, however, the process of Teshuvah is much more difficult. Praying to God does nothing to atone for these kinds of sins unless the offense has been either corrected or apologized for directly.

 The Slonimer Rebbe reminds us that there are two ways a person can go about trying to achieve Teshuvah. There is Teshuvah me’yirah (repentance out of fear), and Teshuvah me’ahavah (repentance out of love). Both have merits, but which is better?

 A parable will suffice to illustrate the differences. A man living in a kingdom decided that the king was no good. Organizing his friends with revolutionary ideas, he rallied people against the king, and created quite an anti-establishment movement. Until the whole thing was silenced and put down by the king.

 Realizing the danger into which he had put himself, the man came to the king on his knees begging for forgiveness and a pardon. This is Teshuvah me’yirah, repentance and returning out of fear of retribution.

 However, the king reminded him, as much as this might make him change on a personal level, the damage was done. The revolutionary ideas were planted. There is a rebellious element in the land due to his actions. In other words, even Teshuvah me’yirah does not erase the resulting damage, it does not turn back the tremendous “Hillul Hashem” – desecration of God’s name – which ensued from one’s actions.

 What can achieve that effect? Teshuvah me’ahavah, a return to God out of love. In essence, if the same revolutionary alters his views and sees not only that he should not have rebelled against the king, but that the king is kind and good and that the king only needs support from his people, he can create a pro-king revolution. He can take the opposite public stand from what he had done before, and demonstrate a real change – a change that has its roots in love for the king.

 It is counter-culture. And it can be very effective.

 The truth is, such an idea is not so counter-culture. We say every day in Shema that “You will love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and all your essence.” A person who actually fulfills such a notion, who sees God as a beloved, wants nothing but to please God, sees flaws in sinning, is not interested in veering from the Godlike path.

 And we also declare on a daily basis what the result from the other side is. Towards the end of Ashrei (Psalm 145) we declare, “R’tzon y’reav yaaseh… Shomer Hashem et kol ohavav,” He does the will of those who fear Him, and He hears their cry and saves them. The Lord guards all who love Him, and He destroys all the wicked.

 This is the combined response that comes to those who come to God out of fear and those who come to God out of love. Those who fear God are answered and saved. But the source of their oppression is not destroyed until they come to love Him.

 What do we prefer? To have a guardian angel protecting us whenever we’re in trouble? Or to have the trouble eradicated so the guardian angel is not necessary?

 Anyone who has ever been in dire straits knows very well that the latter option is preferred. Let me live my life without pain and suffering. Let me live without worry about what an evil person or entity will do to me, my family, my People. Let me live in such a manner that I can focus on real goals and do my part as an Eved Hashem – a servant of God – who just wants to bring light and goodness to the world.

 A man I knew passed away around Pesach time of this past year. Every time I spoke with him he’d mention all the good in his life (and believe me he had rough times as well) always noting how much he loved Hashem. For him it wasn’t lip service, it was genuine sincerity, coming from a place of goodness, of knowing that life comes full circle, and that the best friend a person can have, if one understands life in such a manner, is God. And when one realizes that, one can come to love Him.

 It may be hard for some people to come to grips with it. And some people suffer too much and have too many questions. And yet some people who suffer greatly still manage to emerge from it all, heroically, declaring their unending love for their Maker.

 May we be blessed in our pursuit of loving God and returning to Him with love, so we may all merit a Shanah Tovah – a good year for all.

Uncovering the Heart For Repentance

Parshat Nitzavim 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 One of the reasons we read Parshat Nitzavim immediately before Rosh Hashana is because of its emphasis on the concept of Teshuvah (repentance).

 In the context of telling us about the aftermath of the blessings and curses that have been raised up until now, Moshe reminds the people that “you will return to the Lord, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul, and you will listen to His voice according to all that I am commanding you this day…”

 God will, in turn, bring you to the land, where He “will circumcise your heart and the heart of your offspring, [so that you may] love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, for the sake of your life.” (30:6)

 The image of a circumcised heart invokes images from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1 min mark – so laughably edited), because how else could one remove the heart’s foreskin? Obviously it is meant to be a metaphor to the covering of the heart that makes the stone-cold-heart impenetrable to change and repentance. (In case you thought it was to be literal, Ibn Ezra says the “milah” here is not like the physical one we are familiar with from your typical “bris milah.”)

 But the verse in question (30:6) is much more famous than it lets on in our parsha, because the phrase in Hebrew which is translated as “your heart and the heart of” is one of the phrases quoted in all the sources about the repentance period leading up to Rosh Hashana because the words “Et Levavkha V’et L’vav” begin with the letters which spell the word Elul. [אלול = את לבבך ואת לבב]

 As one would expect, there are a number of interpretations as to what exactly God will remove from the hearts of you and your children in this Teshuvah process.

 Ramban explains it as referring to a future time, when the heart will no longer have desires for things which are inappropriate. Coveting and desiring are a “foreskin” to the heart, and these bad character traits need to be removed, so a person can return to the innocent status of Man before the sin in the Garden of Eden, when humans did what their simple tasks on Earth were.

 Quoting Yirmiyahu 31:30-33, Ramban indicates that the excision of the heart’s “foreskin” is the nullification of the Yetzer Hara, the Evil Inclination. Similarly, in Yechezkel (36:26-27) we are given the indiction that a new heart will be granted (in Messianic times) to those who will only have the inclination to do what is instinctively right.

 Seforno refers to this “foreskin removal” as a turning away from every error that confuses the mind away from knowing truth when one truly seeks it.

 In a more poetic vein (though following the language of the verse), Kli Yakar draws attention to what the removal of the coat on the heart will do – open the heart to loving God. After all, as we read in the Tokhacha (Rebuke) of last week’s Torah portion, it is the inability to serve God with joy which would bring about the curses (28:47), and a circumcised heart would allow for love to creep its way into the special relationship we are meant to have with God.

 The Baal Haturim parallels our verse to another verse that is oft-spoken these days, the second to last in Tehillim 27 (L’David Hashem Ori), which begins with the word “Lulay.” “Had I not believed in seeing the good of the Lord in the land of the living! Hope for the Lord, be strong and He will give your heart courage, and hope for the Lord.” Lulay also has the letters of the word Elul in it, suggesting that perhaps the circumcised heart opens the door to letting God in.

 Finally, to round out our interpretations (though surely there are many more), we have the Targum Yonatan who is rather blunt in his pronouncement of what the “circumcision of the heart” is meant to remove. “God will remove the foolishness of your heart, and the foolishness of the heart of your children as He cancels the Yetzer Hara from functioning in the world, replacing him with the Yetzer Hatov.”

 The message is clear. With the right attitude and outlook in the month of Elul, we have the chance to avoid the folly that comes from being slaves to our Yetzer Hara. Just look at the sins we all regret in our Viduy (confessions) on Yom Kippur. Sins with our eyes, sins with our mouths, sins against our parents and teachers, sins against people to whom we pretend we are their friends.

 With the right attitude going into the final week pre-Rosh Hashana, hopefully we can see that the ways our Yetzer Hara veers us on the wrong path through ensnaring our hearts, is really a capitulation to foolish behavior we ought to be mature enough to avoid. Because when we look back at our flaws and honestly self-assess, what do we find? Important decisions behind our poor choices? Or, more likely, immature indulgence of things we didn’t really need to do.

 Anyone who is on a diet knows that after the initial decision that the current trajectory is a poor one, the next step is to be careful about what one eats. A mature person should be able to stick with it. But anyone who has ever broken a diet knows that it’s usually “just one little nibble, just one little snack, I’ll cheat a tiny bit, etc” and the diet is over. Was the cheat enjoyable? In many cases, probably. Was it worth it? In most cases, probably not. Was it necessary? In every case, no.

 So why do people do it? Because there is a foreskin on the brain which says “Don’t listen to your earlier decision to change. Indulge! Enjoy!” And an immature thought process justifies the poor decision.

 The same holds true for the heart when it comes to Repentance. We know what we have to do. Let us find the inner strength to Repent with a complete, open, and exposed heart.

Sinning Against Myself - Am I My Worst Enemy?

A Yom Kippur Letter

by Rabbi Avi Billet

I beg your indulgence as I share with you this personal letter penned by me to me. It was important to write it, following the lesson of the Chasam Sofer (see below), so that the message would come across (to me) and not go right out the other ear. The "we" in the letter is royal - comes with the territory of talking to oneself.  I added the question that refers to "72-100 hour work week" for the benefit of others who may do (or are successful at) what the question suggests. Thank you for listening to me talk to myself.

Dear Me,

In the seventh chapter of the Laws of Teshuvah (Repentance), Maimonides reminds us that even not-so-obvious "sins" require a repentance of some kind.

"A person should not think that repentance is only necessary for those sins that involve deeds such as promiscuity, robbery, or theft. Rather, just as a person is obligated to repent from these, similarly, he must search after the evil character traits he has. He must repent from anger, hatred, envy, frivolity, the pursuit of money and honor, the pursuit of gluttony, and the like. He must repent for all [of the above]."These sins are more difficult than those that involve deed. If a person is attached to these, it is more difficult for him to separate himself. In this context, [Isaiah 55:7] exhorts: 'May the wicked abandon his path and the crooked man, his designs.'"

The quote from Isaiah is quite familiar to any shul-goer, because it is at the beginning of the haftorah that we read at Mincha on fast days, when the listener is encouraged to "Seek out God where He could be found."

The prophet continued his exhortation instructing the crooked man to 

"Return to the Lord, Who shall have mercy upon him… and will freely pardon. 'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,' says the Lord.'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts [higher] than your thoughts. For, just as the rain and the snow fall from the heavens, and it does not return there… so shall be My word that emanates from My mouth; it shall not return to Me empty, unless it has done what I desire and has made prosperous the one to whom I sent it…'" (Isaiah 55:7-11)

The Chasam Sofer used this instruction to remind even the greatest of scholars that there is merit to hearing a person give a public rebuke. In other words, to the scholars who believed they could get more out of learning "mussar" and ethical teachings on their own, Rabbi Sofer would say they could gain even more from attending a lecture or class from an instructor. I'm hoping this letter will serve as that rebuke - even though (rightly) don't count yourself among the greatest of scholars. :)

Rain or snow fall from the heavens and they do their job. It may take a little time for the rain or snow to penetrate the earth, seek out the roots and have their desired impact, but there is no question that the moisture is the solution for the problem of the dry, parched, or at least unwatered earth. Even if the impact is not felt right away, every farmer will tell you that a good crop is heavily dependent on the rainfalls.

And so to even the greatest scholar, Rabbi Sofer would issue the reminder that all your learning is nice, but the mussar and ethical teachings that are self-learned go in one ear and out the other.

When the exhortation comes from someone else, on the other hand, (ahem!) it is like a message from God that penetrates and will eventually land its mark on your soul.

The Rambam's list of deeds that fall out of the realm of directly punishable actions bear repeating. "Anger, hatred, envy, frivolity, the pursuit of money and honor, the pursuit of gluttony." These are often enough character traits that impact oneself more than they impact others.

Every time we think about teshuvah, perhaps we've thought about how we've wronged God or how we've wronged other people.

This statement from Maimonides reminds us that we also need to be concerned that we may have wronged ourselves. And maybe this should trigger a different line of questioning than the more regular one the "mussar teachers" are prone to share.

Am I pleased with myself? Do I treat myself right? Do I eat healthily, or do I pursue unhealthy food options just because I can't help myself? Is my anger in check? Even if no one ever sees it but me, like when I'm driving or when I analyze my relationships in my heart? Do I really need to work 72-100 hour weeks to make so much money, especially if it's at the expense of not ever seeing my family? And why do I hate everyone in my heart of hearts?

Sometimes the greatest enemy we have, the one that brings us down, is the one that stares at us in the mirror.

A - 

As we embrace Yom Kippur, it is my hope that these words can be like the rain that falls and doesn't return to God emptyhanded. Every person can use a reminder that there is more to teshuvah than only getting forgiveness from God and others, and changing our actions to achieve that forgiveness.

Sometimes we need to look in the mirror, as we hope that message impacts ourselves as well.

GMAR CHATIMAH TOVAH TO ALL

Prohibition of Consuming Blood: Of the Dead, AND of the Living

I wrote this before the Boston Massacre and the events in West, Texas and MIT this week. It is my response to the "scandal" involving Rabbi Michael Broyde that I learned of last Shabbos, and which was all the rage on the internet before the Boston Marathon. My sermon this week will address these issues.
Condolences to the Stern family on account of their tragedy this week.

Acharei Mot - Kedoshim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

William Faulkner was a master of writing single sentences that span an entire page. Though they run on and on, the sentences could not be marked as "run-on" by a grammar teacher. It is a unique skill possessed by the loquacious, which marvels readers.

            

The longest sentence I am aware of in the Torah has 34 words in it (Shmot 32:1). The Torah certainly doesn't hold its breath in making a point. And sometimes takes several sentences to do so. But sometimes one has to wonder why the Torah goes on and on about something which could otherwise be expressed in much fewer words.

            

Towards the end of Vayikra 17, the Torah tells us (as it does in Bereishit 9, Vayikra 3, 7, 19 and Devarim 12) not to eat blood. Were I to write such a commandment, I would write once "You may not eat blood of humans or animals." Pretty clear.

            

But the Torah does not do this. In addition to writing about it 5 times, in three different books, the Torah says the following in our parsha:

"If any person, whether of the family of Israel or a proselyte who joins them, eats any blood, I will direct My anger against the person who eats blood and cut him off [spiritually] from among his people. This is because the life-force of the flesh is in the blood; and I therefore gave it to you to be [placed] on the altar to atone for your lives. It is the blood that atones for a life, and I therefore told the Israelites, 'Let none of you eat blood.' A proselyte who joins you shall [likewise] not eat blood. If any man, whether of the family of Israel or a proselyte who joins them, traps an animal or bird that may be eaten and spills its blood, he must cover [the blood] with earth.  [All this] is because every living creature has its blood associated with its life-force. Tell the Israelites not to eat any blood, since the life-force of all flesh is in its blood. Whoever eats it shall be cut off [spiritually]."         (Vayikra 17:10-14)

Not only is the prohibition very clear, but the other factors thrown in essentially amount to the same idea: "A Jewish person may not eat blood."

Perhaps the message behind the over-and-over element of these instructions is reflective of another prohibition we have in our double parsha – Vayikra 19:16, "Do not stand idly over the blood of your neighbor."

All of these images of blood remind me of the excited pronouncement by the great swordsman Inigo Montoya who, on the verge of storming the castle and avenging the death of his father, exclaimed, "There will be blood tonight!"

We live in a time when we can have a more complete understanding and appreciation of what a book that transcribes one's every deed might look like. We can call it the Internet.

I once participated in a conference where a Reform rabbi was presenting material for High Holiday sermons (he was quite knowledgeable) and he kept on referring to his own "teshuvah process" and how it helped him develop some of the ideas he was sharing. Someone in the room asked, "What are you referring to?" and he said that as a young rabbi he had made a terrible mistake and was unfaithful in his marriage. One time. And kept the secret for 20 years – at which point, it came out.

He said, "Google my name – this story is the first one that will come up. And I have to live with that." He had traveled to the deepest and darkest places in his soul, his marriage and family fell apart, and he had to put his life back together.

Hearing all this, I was struck by a flood of contradictory feelings. At first judgmental, and then forgiving. "You wicked person. Have you no soul? How could you! And you're a rabbi!" was followed by, "You have gone through so much, hiding your secret, being outed, losing everything, and your personal teshuvah. Perhaps God has forgiven you. Why can't I?"

The experience is still haunting because I am not sure which feeling is correct. Or are both proper?

In our life experiences, we will always find people who make errors. No one is perfect. "To err is human, to forgive – divine" said Alexander Pope. And he was on to something.

Perhaps the blood references in our double parsha are reminding us not to look to skewer someone when we don't like what they've done. We can't stand by idly when blood is being spilled – even the blood of the guilty. And we may not look to exact the vengeance Inigo Montoya was looking to have with his father's killer.

There are cases where we can draw a line and say there's no going back. I personally have no sympathy for terrorists, deliberate murderers, thieves, or those who commit forceful crimes of a sexual nature. Immoral crimes between consenting adults is a different story – they make a very poor choice, have their own demons to deal with, and will certainly pay for their crimes in their families and communities and with God. And the same is true of other examples of poor judgment, particularly when a crime has been committed. 

And I certainly hope the same is true when no crime has been committed. That forgiveness from humans will be more readily sought.

Do all "misdeeds" warrant everyone else to skewer the guilty and seek their blood over and over and over again? If that were the case, many in our community would not be able to pass muster. No one is perfect. We all bend corners and rules when we can. Perhaps the Torah is saying that when blood is spilled, it is its own punishment. But then we are required to cover the blood and move on to the next story. A life which has seen a dark side of mistakes and poor choices has its own recovery to go through.

But we may not devour, eat and consume the blood. We don't stand idly by while blood is spilled. We make room for a teshuva process and hope that we can all merit to achieve what Alexander Pope declared to be a divine trait – to forgive and move on.

Rosh Hashana 5773 - The Idealist and the Realist

Rosh Hashana: The Idealist and the Realist

Rabbi Avi Billet

          At the beginning of August, Curtis Martin was inducted into the football hall of fame in canton, Ohio. At his induction speech, he delivered an unremarkable speech, in which he surprisingly noted how much he doesn't really like football.

          He may rank quite high in the all-time running back stats lists, but the fact that he was an exceptional player has never made him a fan of the game. He got into football because he needed a safe place to spend his time after school when_living in a world that seemed to set his destiny to be dead before age 21. And football literally saved his life. Not only did it eventually help him earn a lot of money and take care of his mother who had long suffered to take care of him, but it gave him the opportunity to become: a responsible adult with a wife and young daughter, and, most importantly, a God-fearing person.

For All My Life

A Rosh Hashana Message

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The Talmud in Kiddushin (40b) has a fascinating passage describing the merits process, which is quite applicable to this time of year.

"Our Rabbis taught: A person should always regard himself as though he were half guilty and half meritorious: if he performs one mitzvah, happy is he for weighting himself down in the scale of merit. If he commits one transgression, woe to him for weighting himself down in the scale of guilt. It is said, 'But one sinner destroys much good' (Kohelet 9). In other words, on account of a single sin which he commits much good is lost to him.

"R. Eleazar son of R. Shimon said: Since the world is judged by its majority, and an individual is also judged by his majority [of deeds, good or bad], if he performs one good deed, happy is he for turning the scale both for himself and for the whole world on the side of merit. But if he commits one transgression, woe to him for weighting himself and the whole world in the scale of guilt, for it is said: ‘but one sinner, etc.’ — on account of the single sin which this man commits he and the whole world lose much good.

"R. Shimon Bar Yohai said: Even if he is perfectly righteous all his life but rebels at the end, he destroys his former [good deeds], for it is said: The righteousness of the righteous shall not deliver him in the day of his transgression (Yechezkel 33). And even if one is completely wicked all his life but repents at the end, he is not reproached with his wickedness, for it is said, 'And as for the wickedness of the wicked, he shall not fall thereby in the day that he turns from his wickedness' (ibid).

"Yet let it be regarded as half transgressions and half meritorious deeds! — Said Resh Lakish: It means that he regretted his former deeds."

The first part of the passage describes the scale we all envision – where our positive deeds and fulfilled mitzvot sit on one weight counter, being weighed against our bad deeds, violations of sin and transgressed negative commandments. This balance act of merits versus demerits is easy for us to understand.

But the teaching of R Shimon Bar Yochai serves to indicate that in some cases, a person can literally be judged based on one's most recent deeds. One who has been good one's entire life can throw everything away in an instant, while one who has been bad can be redeemed in an instant.

Are we reducing Rosh Hashana to a children's game, where we behave nicely right before Rosh Hashana, so Santa Claus will give us the present we want?

Hardly. This is where Resh Lakish comes in. We can't just be judged for our most recent deeds. We must regret our misdeeds of the past as well, and make a commitment not to return to our ways of old.

Herein lies the difference for all of us. It is very easy to say on any given day, "I will be a good person today. I am being judged today. I am being watched today. I will perform well today." It is much more difficult to make a conscience choice to make a commitment today that will last for the rest of my life.

But Resh Lakish is reminding us that we can sincerely regret our past misdeeds, at any time, any day.

If we bring a fair dose of sincerity, and honest feelings of recommitment and renewal to striving to be better people in this coming year, it is our hope we will merit all the blessings that come upon those who truly earn for themselves a sweet new year.

Shana Tova to all.

Hypocritical Thinking

This also appears in the Jewish Star

Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech

Repentance: heart and soul

By Rabbi Avi Billet

This Saturday night, the Ashkenazic communities begin to say Selichot in preparation for Rosh Hashana. Sephardim have been saying them since Rosh Chodesh Elul. I’ll never forget the first night of Selichot in my yeshiva in Israel, when Rav Yehuda Amital, z”l, who passed away less than two months ago, would lead the yeshiva in his unique style of presenting the traditional melodies.

I am sure I was not alone with the eerie sensation I’d feel up my spine as the hairs on the neck would stand up as the collective voice of the students of the yeshiva filled with awe and trepidation as they responded to the kaddish.

It could be that yeshiva students go through the motions really well. And it could be that, as Israelis, the percentage of people who understood every word they were saying shattered the percentages of every group with whom I’d experienced selichot before that.

One could easily be inspired to feel the need to do “teshuvah” – literally to return to G-d as much as possible in the waning hours of the final days of the year leading into Rosh Hashana.

Our parsha speaks of the day when “You will return to G-d… with all your heart and with all your soul.” (30:2) This phrase is reminiscent of the commandment to love G-d with all your heart and soul (Devarim 6:5) as well as other similar commitments to G-d (4:29, 10:12, 26:16, 30:10). The commentaries talk about the greatness of teshuvah (repentance), mostly quoting the Talmud (Yoma 86a-b) which includes a number of qualities of teshuvah: “It brings healing to the world, it reaches the Throne of Glory, forgives violations, brings the redemption close, purposeful sins are judged like accidents (Resh Lakish says they are viewed as merits!), it lengthens a person’s days.”

The most simplistic way of looking at teshuvah is considering there are two ways one can sin: against G-d and against one’s fellow man. Teshuvah, therefore, consists of repairing those relationships and committing to do things that will indicate you are sticking with the promise of the new you.

I call this “hypocritical thinking.” I heard a story that the Gaon of Vilna would pay someone to tell him in what way he needs to improve. Who would otherwise criticize the Vilna Gaon?

Recognizing that we all need reminders now and then, and acknowledging that I am guilty of a number of these myself, here are a few questions for consideration, offered free of charge.

Are we careful to wash, but forget to bentch?

Are we careful to make sure there is a mashgiach in a kosher restaurant? And then do we allow ourselves to eat a soup or salad in a non-kosher restaurant – where there is surely no mashgiach?

Do we admonish others who say lashon hara about us? But don’t admonish ourselves when we participate in similar conversations about others?

Do we raise our eyebrows at those who come late to shul, but don’t back it up with coming on time ourselves?

Do we facilitate growth in learning and spirituality – giving our spouses the chance to attend the classes they want to or need to attend?

Do we spend our spare time catching up on missed TV shows? Do we spend any spare time catching up on Torah study (parsha, daf yomi, halakha learning)?

Do we send our kids to yeshiva, complaining about tuition, and then make $50,000 bar mitzvah bashes, or six figure weddings?

Do we scream about modesty and the need to dress a certain way, and then forget about the same rules when they’re inconvenient for us? (The story of the woman with the bikini and the tichel on Miami Beach during Pesach vacation always struck me as ironic.)

Do we use the computer for learning and for business, but also for…?

Do we set aside time for learning once a week? Do we set aside time for poker once a week? Do we learn and play poker together within the same hour and a half? (Perhaps there are merits. On the other hand, maybe Talmud and poker are contradictory to one another.)

A thought for all the roshei yeshiva and rabbis – can we learn to say things that are permitted and to teach the “way we do things” as opposed to focusing on all the things that are “assur,” prohibited?

Do we judge people favorably, giving them the benefit of the doubt? Or do we focus on their negative qualities and make all kinds of assumptions about them?

Do we honor and respect our children as much as we expect them to honor and respect us?

Living a purely honorable existence is near-impossible. Never doing anything wrong is impossible. But we ought to give it the best shot we can. As human beings, we are capable of more; we are capable of being better. We are capable of living to the beat of a more consistent drum.

Let us take these thoughts to mind and heart, and commit to doing teshuva, with all our heart and with all our soul.

Repeating a faux pas

Parshat Chukat 

by Rabbi Avi Billlet

I don't know how you operate, but I'll make a confession here. As a father of young children, I have learned that when they do something really bad, I need only make them feel really guilty to have them learn never to repeat the offense. 

 Perhaps we operate the same way. As long as the bad things we do remain secrets, we're in the clear. Once we get caught, and suffer the embarrassment or slap on the wrist (or worse) that comes with the guilt, do we finally vow never to do those things again. 

 So it comes as a surprise when we read this week that Moshe chose to repeat what was arguably the biggest "fashla" (Hebrew slang for “oops moment") of his life. In 21:32, in a verse that is largely overlooked, Moshe does the unthinkable: "Moses sent out men to reconnoiter Ya'azer, and they captured its surrounding villages, driving out the Amorites who lived there." Reconnoiter is the term used in The Living Torah, and it means "to spy." So Moshe sent spies... again? Wouldn't that be the ultimate no-no? 

According to some commentaries, indeed even according to Moshe himself (Devarim 1:37), the incident of the spies in Parshat Shlach is what ultimately led to Moshe’s death in the desert. How could he be so foolish to send spies again? 

Because there is nothing foolish about sending spies, if it is done correctly. 

 In Shlach, there was pomp and ceremony and everyone knew who was going, when they were going, what their assignment was, and when they returned. Instead of reporting only to Moshe, they reported to everyone. And this time the spies themselves were different: according to Targum Yonatan, Moshe sent only two spies this time, Kalev and Pinchas, whose trustworthiness was beyond question. 

 Additionally, the spying fell in between battles, when the nation was pumped for war and knew they could win. 

 Finally, this was the next generation, a generation that complained about dying of natural causes, but not about having to face the enemy on the battlefield. 

 Still, all this being true, how could Moshe repeat his faux-pas? Because Moshe "Rabbenu," our teacher, is teaching us a lesson for all time. The Peter Principle posits that people rise to the level of their incompetence; then no further promotions are available. The concept of "teshuva," however, is that you may make a mistake along the road, but to know if your repentance has been accepted, you need to be faced with the same circumstances once again, and either you don't succumb to temptation or you rise to the occasion. 

 In Moshe's case, he needed another reason to send spies, to show that while he may have shared the blame the first time around, the ten bad spies had much to do with how things went wrong. Given the correct strategy and approach, the spying could serve the purpose for which it was intended, vindicating Moshe, and clearing him before his death of the reputation of (shudder) a failed commander-in-chief. 

Rashi says the spies went in saying "We don't want be like the first ones. We have faith in the power of Moshe's prayer to help us win the battle." He says the spies themselves were the ones who conquered Ya'azer. And the Rashi supercommentary Maskil L'David says the reason for the need to send spies was because they needed a "tikkun" (correction) through the same activity in which they sinned. These spies not only went in with the right attitude, but also were ready to sacrifice their lives in battle to give the entire nation the fix they needed to move beyond the wilderness experience. 

 These are amazingly powerful ideas. Moshe revisits his mistake to prove he can do things the right way. The spies are so selfless, they are willing, for the sake of the people, to make the ultimate sacrifice so that the generation waiting on the border of the land can let bygones be bygones and move on. 

 It almost sounds like a movie that opens with a training scene for the most far-fetched situation that could possibly happen. The far-fetched situation becomes the climax of the film (for real this time), and the teacher gives his life so the student can show he or she has surpassed the teacher. 

 The difference is that this is our history, our heritage, and what our lives are all about: second chances, the ability to try again, to make amends, to do it right, and the selfless dedication of those who believe in G-d and His most devoted ones, to carry out His will for the sake of heaven and the future of the Children of Israel.

Dangers of Cult of Personality

This can be seen in the Jewish Star

Parshat Korach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In general, the Torah portion gets its name from the first, second or third word of the parsha, unless the opening is an introductory verse of God talking to someone — in which case its name comes from the first, second or third word following the introduction. In most cases, the name of the parsha is largely unrelated to its contents.

When it comes to a Torah equivalent of naming a chapter after someone, would it not be fitting that those whom the Torah chooses be models of fine standing?

Six parshas in the Torah include a specific person in their names: Noach, Chayei Sarah, Yitro, Korach, Balak and Pinchas.

The Torah tells us Noach was the greatest person of his generation. He alone merited to have his family saved, to preserve humanity after the Deluge.

Sarah is the original matriarch, whose untimely death taught lessons to her husband, son and all of us.
Yitro joined the Jewish people after the exodus, partly because of his familial connection to Moshe, but also out of personal conviction.

Pinchas is the model zealot who defended God, His Torah, and morality, earning for himself priesthood, from which he had been excluded, and a midrashic connection to Eliyahu and Messiah-hood.

While Balak is by no means a model character, he is the topic of most of the parsha bearing his name (along with Bilaam) — the only parsha in the Torah not told from the perspective of the people of Israel.

Which leaves us with Korach.

Why does Korach merit the infamy and notoriety the Torah gives him? The hero of the parsha, every step of the way, is Aharon. He wards off criticism that he benefited from nepotism, he rises strong to stop a plague with k’toret (incense), and his stick blossoms to become a model for nipping rebellion in the bud. The parsha concludes with instructions for priestly and levitical gifts — given to Aharon and sons, of course. The sedrah should be called “Parshat Aharon!”

As his name does not appear in the first verse, the suggestion is speculative. Yet compelling!

We are left to understand who Korach was, and why the Torah divisions leave him with the fame he carries to this day.

Prior to his tale of demonstration and rebellion, the rabbis tell us Korach was a model Jew. He was a scholar, a Levite, with good family ties — first cousin to Moshe and Aharon. And he taught his sons to think for themselves.

Korach had a problem, however, in that he was not happy with his portion. He wanted kavod (honor) and power. And most importantly, he wanted to be more of a “somebody.” So he preyed on the weak minds of those who became his followers, and on lightweight arguments that said “current leadership is no good. Things will be much different when I am in charge.”

It is always easy to paint an image of bleak hope and absolute despair when you are not in a position to do anything except point out weaknesses in a system that otherwise works pretty well. But what makes you think that when you get the power, you will be an efficient leader? (the image of Scar from “The Lion King” comes to mind)


Narcissists see the world in terms of how they can become more powerful, more famous, more “in charge” of as many things as can fit under their umbrella. They seek to make themselves look good by describing their opponents in the most abject of terms, sometimes saying things like Korach said, “Everyone is holy! Are you, incumbent, going to deny that every person is a holy human being?”

It is true that every human being has the power and the potential to accomplish great things. But not everyone is fit to lead — a leader is one who can take charge, take command, and who can bring about a solution that causes the least amount of damage to his constituents. Most importantly, when wrong, he admits to his mistakes and incompetence. Even the greatest of leaders is still a human being.

Whining and blaming others are not character traits of a leader.

Neither Aharon, Moshe or the forefathers have Torah portions named for them. The actions of these great men spoke much louder than their words.

In a time of crisis and a time of upheaval, it is actions that speak loudest. Words, after all, are just words. And they are as empty as the person who speaks them if they are not backed by actions that are sustainable, that do not tear society apart.

Perhaps Korach has a parsha named after him because he embodies an important lesson we can learn from — the unfit leader who relies more on his personality, charm and empty promises than any real-world experience has no place leading the Jewish people.

Rosh Hashana (belated)

My article on Rosh Hashana appeared in the Jewish Star this past week.

It is repeated below for your convenience.

The Shofar’s blast: an abrupt, tragic realization

By Rabbi Avi Billet

September 18, 2009/ 29 Elul 5769

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik recounted a personal episode that took place shortly after his wife passed away.

As the rain and wind blew through the window of his room, half-awake, Rabbi Soloveitchik jumped to close the window. He thought his wife was sleeping downstairs; the window had been left open, and were it to remain open, in her weakened condition she might catch pneumonia.

He ran downstairs, rushed into the room and shut the window. Turning around to see whether she had awoken, “I found the room empty, the couch where she slept neatly covered.”

His wife had passed away the previous month.

“The most tragic and frightening experience was the shock that I encountered in that half second when I turned from the window to find the room empty. I was certain that a few hours earlier I had been speaking with her, and that at about 10 o’clock she had said good night and retired to her room. I could not understand why the room was empty,” Rabbi Soloveitchik wrote.

The shofar on Rosh Hashana is meant to be a wake up call. It is meant to remind us of where we were last year, what we’ve done since then, where we are today, and of our renewed commitments for the coming year.

According to Rabbi Soloveitchik “the required response to the shofar is the abrupt, tragic realization that the false assumptions upon which we built our lives have come crashing before our eyes.”

The wakeup call is meant to say, “Jew! How far have you strayed from your connection with God? How have you allowed all the material and trivial pursuits to consume your existence?”

We do not know how to express remorse or regret over our inadequacies. Even the chazzan who leads the service cannot find the right words; they are given to him in the form of the “Hi’n’ni” prayer, through which he describes himself as a pauper of deeds who is unworthy of representing the congregation. (It’s nice to say it along with him – he’s not the only one pretending to be something he is not.)

Rabbi Soloveitchik asks, why does the story of the pagan mother of the general Sisera crying over her son who has not returned from the battlefield form the basis for our hearing 100 blasts from the shofar on Rosh Hashana (based on Tosafot in Rosh Hashana 33b)?

He answers that the shofar must cause us to experience a similar emotion. “We must witness our own illusions being relentlessly shattered,” Rabbi Soloveitchik explained.

The Jerusalem Talmud Rosh Hashana (Chapter 1, page 57 Halakha 3) describes the reason for a custom to wear white on Rosh Hashana: a confidence that we have coming into the court room of the Almighty.

Whether one actually wears white or actually has such confidence, the fact of the matter is that Rosh Hashana is such a serious day, that even though we remind ourselves it is the Judgment Day (Yom HaDin), and the Day of Remembrance (Yom HaZikaron), we need the shofar to wake us up regardless because in our human imperfection, we still don’t “get it.”

New Year’s resolutions don’t work. Commitments to change don’t usually last more than 10 minutes past Rosh Hashana or Yom Kippur.

Yet we come back every year to hear the shofar, hoping we will finally be moved and inspired to move on to the next stage of our lives and Jewish experiences.

Let us try an experiment this year. We only have one chance because the shofar will only be sounded on Sunday.

Let us experience the shofar like we never have before. Instead of thinking about how good the shofar blower is (or is not), let us be grateful that he can get 100 blasts out of the shofar.

And now we can focus on how the sound of the shofar is meant to remind us of our own inadequacies

When we hear the shofar, let us think for a moment about how it shatters our dreams. Let us think for a moment, that as wonderful as we are, we could be better. Let us think for a moment, that as much as we do, we could be doing more. Let us think for a moment, that even the greatest confidence can benefit from a little bit of healthy “what if”-ing.

The shofar is there to remind us. Hopefully we will hear and heed the call.

The Month of E.L.U.L.

There is very nice young man now entering high school who has gathered a group of friends - we try to learn together once a week.

As tonight is Rosh Chodesh - well, it is Rosh Chodesh, even though it is still the 30th of Av - I decided to learn with them rules surrounding the beginning of the month of Elul. So we picked the laws of this same title in the Kitzur Shulchan Arukh (the one composed by Rabbi Ganzfried).

[As an aside, I've found really great resources on the internet, such as this website dedicated to the Kitzur Shulchan Arukh, when looking for links to put in this blog. The internet is incredible.]

Section 128 talks of how this time period, the forty day period from Rosh Chodesh through Yom Kippur is a time of longing and yearning - of the Jews to God, and of God for His people. It is a particularly open time for repentance, and those seeking to repent should utilize this time to do so. We compared it to the holiday season in the secular calendar, a time when people are apt to be more giving and more concerned for one another.

This time of year is a time in which God is exceedingly forgiving: He wants our repentance during this time.

The reason this time is so open for this yearning movement is because Moses spent this time period on the mountain, achieving forgiveness for the Jewish people for the sin of the Golden calf, and orchestrating the delivery of the second set of tablets.

Finally, we discussed the different acronyms which spell out E.L.U.L., which together indicate the moods of "teshuvah, tefillah, tzedakah" - repentance, prayer and righteousess (including charitable giving and behavior), which characterize where we need to focus our efforts of improvement during these times.

ואשר לא צדה והאלהים אנה לידו ושמתי לך, ראשי תבות אלול, לומר כי חדש זה, הוא עת רצון לקבל תשובה על החטאים שעשה בכל השנה. וגם רמז שגם על השגגות צריך לעשות תשובה בחדש הזה . עוד אמרו דורשי רשומות, ומל ה' אלהיך את לבבך ואת לבב זרעך, ראשי תבות אלול. וכן אני לדודי ודודי לי, ראשי תבות אלול. וכן איש לרעהו ומתנות לאביונים ראשי תבות אלול

May it be for a blessing.