Parshat V'Zot HaBracha
by Rabbi Avi Billet
What is better – to see something in its entirety, or to experience a smaller portion of that entity?
This is the debate which winds itself through the commentaries on Devarim 34, as Moshe’s ascent to Mt Nebo is described and the vision he is given is interpreted.
It is interesting that Moshe is shown places with names of the tribes already assigned. It seems that God was showing him the locations that would be occupied by the specific tribes mentioned by name – they are the outer borders of the land. And the Midrash notes that Moshe was also shown visions of how these lands would be in turmoil before the land would be settled peacefully, and what things would look like when the people are in place, in their homes and living life, under God.
We are told that Moshe saw the entire land. Chizkuni and others note that Moshe saw the entire land, while Yehoshua did not merit to walk along all the places Moshe saw. After all, Yehoshua was unsuccessful in conquering the entire land – it was one of his failures as a leader. And even if he had conquered all the land, would he have walked everywhere?
I have on my table a book called “Wonders of the World” by Sandra Forty. It has pictures of some of the most amazing natural phenomena and man-made structures on Earth. Turning the pages of this book, one marvels over the works of both Creator and man. It is very unlikely that I will see many of these places in person.
Who will be better off? Someone who goes through the expense, and who has the time, to see all of these amazing wonders in person, to touch them and see them in their majesty and glory? Or me, who gets to see them all and marvel over them through the course of 30 minutes by simply turning the hundred or so pages?
It depends on one’s goal. It seems that one of Moshe’s main intentions was to be able to fulfill the mitzvot associated with the Land of Israel. Without being there, some mitzvot never applied to him and he could never fulfill them. On the other hand, maybe he wanted to experience the land that Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov walked, where they had the most special relationship with God.
He could have had many goals.
Yehoshua merited to bring the people into the Land. But his experience was mired with battles and experiences that surely took away from his ability to enjoy the land in the manner Moshe would have liked. To the point, he never accomplished his goal of having the Israelites settle the entire land, and of driving out the enemies that remained a thorn in the Israelites’ side throughout Biblical history.
What is better – a helicopter ride or a drive through? With the former you see the magnitude, the grand scale of everything, while with the latter you are much closer to feeling the space, to identifying with every rock, shrub, tree, blade of grass.
Perhaps comparing experiences is not fair – everything is in the eye of the beholder. For Moshe, that he got to see more than what Yehoshua experienced did not matter. He wasn’t as interested in seeing the entire land as he was in getting closer to God through doing mitzvot.
That is the most important take-away lesson. Certain experiences could be replaced with knowledge and education, such as looking at a coffee table book which has incredible pictures of scenery and landscapes.
The question becomes what we do with our time beyond that? Moshe spent his last moments in quiet contemplation with the Master of the World. He had his helicopter ride, it was over almost as quickly as it begun. And then he experienced the ultimate connection with the Divine.
Yehoshua was in the trenches, living real life, suffering fallbacks and setbacks and never really accomplishing what was meant to be his goal. And yet, he had great moments as well, in the land promised to the forefathers.
Let us not fall into the debate of which is better, for each has its merits. Let us instead aim to challenge ourselves to make the most of our time on earth – no matter what we see, touch or experience – so we can get as close to God as possible.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
How Moshe's Punishment Has Very Little to Do With a Rock
There is very compelling evidence that Moshe was never supposed to go into the land. So why does the Torah keep harping on the incident of Mei Merivah (Bamidbar 20)?
Parshat Ha'azinu
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The song of Haazinu is troubling because it seems to describe actions and behaviors of the nation of Israel that we have never seen before in the Torah. The punishments God declares He has given and will give seem unequal to the violations committed.
Equally disturbing is how the punishment to Moshe is described in our parsha – because it is not an accurate reflection of what happened in Bamidbar 20. In 32:50 Moshe is told he will die as his brother Aharon had died (see Bamaidbar 20:22-28). In 32:51, the reason is given: “because you broke faith with me (‘m’altem bi’) in the midst of the Israelites at the Waters of Dispute at Kadesh in the Tzin Desert, and because you did not sanctify Me (‘lo kidashtem oti’) among the Israelites.”
While it is true that the event described took place, the way it is described in Bamidbar is quite different from how it is presented here.
In Bamidbar 20:12-13 the Torah tells us “God said to Moses and Aaron, 'You did not cause there to be enough faith in Me (lo he’emantem’) to cause Me to be sanctified (‘l’hakdisheini’) in the presence of the Israelites! Therefore, you shall not bring this assembly to the land that I have given you.' These are the Waters of Dispute (Mey Meribhah) where the Israelites disputed with God, and where He was [nevertheless] sanctified (‘va’y’kadesh bam’).” Eleven verses later we are told that “'Aaron will [now die and] be gathered up to his people. He will not come to the land that I am giving the Israelites because you rebelled against My word (‘asher m’ritem et pi’) at the Waters of Dispute.”
It is important to note that when referring to this incident in Bamidbar 27:14, Moshe is also told “m’ritem pi” and that you failed “l’hakdisheini.”
Strangely, some of these formulations appear once more in the Torah, in Devarim 9:23, when Moshe recounts the events surrounding the Golden Calf, and he describes the guilt of the people as “but you rebelled against the word (“vatamru et pi”) of God your Lord, and did not have faith in Him (“lo he’emantem lo”) or obey Him.
To summarize, using the Hebrew verbs describing Moshe’s and Aharon’s guilt:
At the incident with the rock - lo he’emantem and l’hakdisheini, though the latter seems to be countered by v’y’kadesh bam
Aharon’s death – m’ritem et pi
Moshe’s first direct accusation of non-compliance other than the actual event, when he was told he could not bring the nation into the land – m’ritem pi and l’hakdisheini
Moshe reminding the people of their sin at Golden Calf – vatamru and lo he’emantem
Our parsha – m’altem bi and lo kidashtem oti
It is also noteworthy that until now Moshe has been told he will not bring the people to the land (Bamidbar 20:12), and that he will see the land and then die (Bamidbar 27:13). Both options leave open the possibility that he will enter the land as a private citizen (leader emeritus, perhaps) and that he can die shortly after he sees the land for himself, even from the inside. Only in our parsha, Devarim 32:52, is Moshe finally told point-blank, you will not be going into the land (in Devarim 1:37, Moshe says he was told he will not enter the land, but we never saw God actually tell him that). In Devarim 3:27, Moshe reported that God said “you will not be crossing the Jordan” – but Moshe still had hopes that he while he might not enter the Land alive, he would be buried in the Land. The idea of seeing the land from a distance and being buried outside the land is clarified for Moshe immediately before he dies, in Devarim 34:4.
So what is going on? Why do the reasons for not entering the land differ from explanation to explanation, and from person to person?
Abravanel’s approach to the punishment meted to Aharon and Moshe pins their non-entry status on the Golden Calf and the Spies incidents, respectively. He explains God’s constant reference to the Rock incident as a cover for the real reasons, to avoid embarrassment. But the Rock episode was very mild in comparison to those other nation-shattering events. [He compares this to the mystery surrounding the deaths of Nadav and Avihu. The Torah gives us very sketchy information, while the rabbis heap a slew of accusations upon the lads, indicating the real reason for their deaths was hidden by the Torah, as it was pinned on a minor violation.]
Considering that the verse tells us in Bamidbar 20:13 (Rock incident) that God was nonetheless sanctified, it is hard to imagine that they failed to cause the people to have faith in God there. Therefore the “lo heemantem” must be linked to the other time it appears, Devarim 9:23, referring to the Sin of the Golden Calf, when the people indeed lost their faith in God. Interestingly, Moshe reports about Aharon’s death there in 10:6, after recounting how he brought down the second Tablets, even though Aharon’s death occurred 40 years later.
The act of “Me’i’lah,” of which Moshe is accused in our parsha, refers to using something holy for a mundane act. Reading Devarim 1:19-38, it is clear that the holiness of the Land was rejected for mundane reasons by the people. Additionally, they are accused of “vatamru et pi Hashem” (rebelling against God) in Devarim 1:26, smack in the middle of the description of the Spies story. And, most obviously, Moshe attaches his non-entry to the land to this incident (1:37)
There are certainly eyebrow raising details in the Rock story of Bamidbar 20. But all told, God’s name IS sanctified there – as the verse plainly states – and the rebellion of Moshe and Aharon, the misuse of something holy, and the causing a lack of faith are simply not present. Those accusations refer to these other incidents of the Spies and Golden Calf.
Referring specifically to our Parsha, Abravanel says the following, as he utilizes a creative reading to understand the text: “There are two reasons attached to the deaths of Moshe and Aharon. An impersonal one – Mei Meribah (the Rock incident), and a personal one, their earlier sins [of Golden Calf and Spies]. For both of those they are accused of “Me’i’lah,” (using holy for mundane purposes), not sanctifying, rebelling, etc… Aharon had the opportunity to sanctify God’s Name through giving up his life in place of succumbing to making the Golden Calf. This is his special mitzvah, (Vayikra 22:32) to sanctify God’s Name and not desecrate it…. Moshe rebelled and caused lack of faith first when he added to questions for what the spies should be looking for, all of which caused the people not to have faith that the Land to which they were going was a good land.”
We now understand why the accusation hurled at Moshe in our parsha does not reflect what happened in Bamidbar 20. The Rock incident was minor and was a cover to shield Moshe and Aharon from more embarrassing episodes in their lives.
Even at the final hour, when there’s nothing to lose from getting everything out on the table, God still chooses to go the route of not embarrassing His most beloved Moshe. What a lesson in piety and respect in seeing that a person’s worth and dignity is worth preserving through death!
Parshat Ha'azinu
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The song of Haazinu is troubling because it seems to describe actions and behaviors of the nation of Israel that we have never seen before in the Torah. The punishments God declares He has given and will give seem unequal to the violations committed.
Equally disturbing is how the punishment to Moshe is described in our parsha – because it is not an accurate reflection of what happened in Bamidbar 20. In 32:50 Moshe is told he will die as his brother Aharon had died (see Bamaidbar 20:22-28). In 32:51, the reason is given: “because you broke faith with me (‘m’altem bi’) in the midst of the Israelites at the Waters of Dispute at Kadesh in the Tzin Desert, and because you did not sanctify Me (‘lo kidashtem oti’) among the Israelites.”
While it is true that the event described took place, the way it is described in Bamidbar is quite different from how it is presented here.
In Bamidbar 20:12-13 the Torah tells us “God said to Moses and Aaron, 'You did not cause there to be enough faith in Me (lo he’emantem’) to cause Me to be sanctified (‘l’hakdisheini’) in the presence of the Israelites! Therefore, you shall not bring this assembly to the land that I have given you.' These are the Waters of Dispute (Mey Meribhah) where the Israelites disputed with God, and where He was [nevertheless] sanctified (‘va’y’kadesh bam’).” Eleven verses later we are told that “'Aaron will [now die and] be gathered up to his people. He will not come to the land that I am giving the Israelites because you rebelled against My word (‘asher m’ritem et pi’) at the Waters of Dispute.”
It is important to note that when referring to this incident in Bamidbar 27:14, Moshe is also told “m’ritem pi” and that you failed “l’hakdisheini.”
Strangely, some of these formulations appear once more in the Torah, in Devarim 9:23, when Moshe recounts the events surrounding the Golden Calf, and he describes the guilt of the people as “but you rebelled against the word (“vatamru et pi”) of God your Lord, and did not have faith in Him (“lo he’emantem lo”) or obey Him.
To summarize, using the Hebrew verbs describing Moshe’s and Aharon’s guilt:
At the incident with the rock - lo he’emantem and l’hakdisheini, though the latter seems to be countered by v’y’kadesh bam
Aharon’s death – m’ritem et pi
Moshe’s first direct accusation of non-compliance other than the actual event, when he was told he could not bring the nation into the land – m’ritem pi and l’hakdisheini
Moshe reminding the people of their sin at Golden Calf – vatamru and lo he’emantem
Our parsha – m’altem bi and lo kidashtem oti
It is also noteworthy that until now Moshe has been told he will not bring the people to the land (Bamidbar 20:12), and that he will see the land and then die (Bamidbar 27:13). Both options leave open the possibility that he will enter the land as a private citizen (leader emeritus, perhaps) and that he can die shortly after he sees the land for himself, even from the inside. Only in our parsha, Devarim 32:52, is Moshe finally told point-blank, you will not be going into the land (in Devarim 1:37, Moshe says he was told he will not enter the land, but we never saw God actually tell him that). In Devarim 3:27, Moshe reported that God said “you will not be crossing the Jordan” – but Moshe still had hopes that he while he might not enter the Land alive, he would be buried in the Land. The idea of seeing the land from a distance and being buried outside the land is clarified for Moshe immediately before he dies, in Devarim 34:4.
So what is going on? Why do the reasons for not entering the land differ from explanation to explanation, and from person to person?
Abravanel’s approach to the punishment meted to Aharon and Moshe pins their non-entry status on the Golden Calf and the Spies incidents, respectively. He explains God’s constant reference to the Rock incident as a cover for the real reasons, to avoid embarrassment. But the Rock episode was very mild in comparison to those other nation-shattering events. [He compares this to the mystery surrounding the deaths of Nadav and Avihu. The Torah gives us very sketchy information, while the rabbis heap a slew of accusations upon the lads, indicating the real reason for their deaths was hidden by the Torah, as it was pinned on a minor violation.]
Considering that the verse tells us in Bamidbar 20:13 (Rock incident) that God was nonetheless sanctified, it is hard to imagine that they failed to cause the people to have faith in God there. Therefore the “lo heemantem” must be linked to the other time it appears, Devarim 9:23, referring to the Sin of the Golden Calf, when the people indeed lost their faith in God. Interestingly, Moshe reports about Aharon’s death there in 10:6, after recounting how he brought down the second Tablets, even though Aharon’s death occurred 40 years later.
The act of “Me’i’lah,” of which Moshe is accused in our parsha, refers to using something holy for a mundane act. Reading Devarim 1:19-38, it is clear that the holiness of the Land was rejected for mundane reasons by the people. Additionally, they are accused of “vatamru et pi Hashem” (rebelling against God) in Devarim 1:26, smack in the middle of the description of the Spies story. And, most obviously, Moshe attaches his non-entry to the land to this incident (1:37)
There are certainly eyebrow raising details in the Rock story of Bamidbar 20. But all told, God’s name IS sanctified there – as the verse plainly states – and the rebellion of Moshe and Aharon, the misuse of something holy, and the causing a lack of faith are simply not present. Those accusations refer to these other incidents of the Spies and Golden Calf.
Referring specifically to our Parsha, Abravanel says the following, as he utilizes a creative reading to understand the text: “There are two reasons attached to the deaths of Moshe and Aharon. An impersonal one – Mei Meribah (the Rock incident), and a personal one, their earlier sins [of Golden Calf and Spies]. For both of those they are accused of “Me’i’lah,” (using holy for mundane purposes), not sanctifying, rebelling, etc… Aharon had the opportunity to sanctify God’s Name through giving up his life in place of succumbing to making the Golden Calf. This is his special mitzvah, (Vayikra 22:32) to sanctify God’s Name and not desecrate it…. Moshe rebelled and caused lack of faith first when he added to questions for what the spies should be looking for, all of which caused the people not to have faith that the Land to which they were going was a good land.”
We now understand why the accusation hurled at Moshe in our parsha does not reflect what happened in Bamidbar 20. The Rock incident was minor and was a cover to shield Moshe and Aharon from more embarrassing episodes in their lives.
Even at the final hour, when there’s nothing to lose from getting everything out on the table, God still chooses to go the route of not embarrassing His most beloved Moshe. What a lesson in piety and respect in seeing that a person’s worth and dignity is worth preserving through death!
Friday, September 18, 2015
A Gathering To Unite - If Only...
Parshat Vayelekh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Shabbos Shuva is named for the first word in the Haftorah, but it also refers to the fact that the Shabbos falls between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, at a time when our people are experiencing the “Aseret Y’mei Teshuvah” – the Ten Days Of Repentance.
How do we repent? What needs to be done. I suppose the classic answers have been talked about – not saying Lashon hora, treating each other nicely, and of course, making amends with God over our misdeeds.
Devarim 31:10-13 contains what the Sefer Hachinukh lists as commandment number 612, the mitzvah of “Hak’hel.” This commandment is fulfilled every seven years at the end of a shmittah year, as all of the Jewish people gather in Jerusalem during the holiday of Sukkot to hear portions of the Torah read aloud. While this Biblical commandment is time dependent, the category from which women are generally exempt from obligation, this is one of the exceptions to the rule (the others are Shabbat and eating matzah on Pesach – see Kiddushin 34a-b) (there are many time-dependent Rabbinic commandments to which women are bound).
Collectively the entire nation would hear the king read different portions, altogether over half, of the book of Devarim.
Surely this spectacle was memorable, with the king at the center and trumpets sounding. The Torah was heralded between the king and the high priest and the members of the “Knesset” (not Israel’s modern day parliament), and the king would recite seven blessings praising God, the Jewish people, and the relationship they shared, before he actually read the Torah.
A once in seven years experience is certainly a source of inspiration. Ask anyone who has been to the Siyum Hashas. But even such inspiration often falls short of lasting through to the next gathering of the masses, if it even lasts one month.
Hak’hel was never the same as the tri-annual “aliyah l’regel” of the holidays. Not everyone went every holiday, and not everyone could afford to make the trip so often. But once every seven years gives people enough time to budget and to plan, to make sure they are there to fulfill this great mitzvah.
How could the event of Hak’hel serve as the inspiration it is meant to be if it only takes place once every seven years?
It would seem every seven years Jews are meant to have a unifying moment. We go to our homes, to our communities, to our own lives and we tend to lose sight of the greater picture of the Jewish community, what we collectively share and value and do to enhance our lives. Hak’hel serves as a reminder for this.
The hak’hel moment is meant to inspire other experiences, to inspire a lifestyle, to inspire a regimen of continued education and learning that reflects all the spiritual grandeur invoked in the heartfelt reading of the Jewish king on that day in the Beit Hamikdash on the holiday of Sukkot. Hak’hel should be the climax, not the initiation. We should be living an ongoing life of inspiration which reaches its pinnacle moment when we gather after an extended period of separation.
This year has its own rules for the use of Etrogim that come out of Israel, owing to the completion of the recent Shmittah (Sabbatical) year. Hakhel’s seven year cycle was related to Shmittah, so we have a deeper connection than usual this year to this special mitzvah.
But in the absence of the Beit Hamikdash, we do not experience Hak’hel. So what can it mean for us today?
The answer is quite simple. Hak’hel is a gathering most symbolic of the unity of the Jewish people. It is a time when the Jewish people were reminded that “there is more that unites you than divides you.”
This message is particularly poignant at this moment in history. I have had a number of political debates with religious Jews over the Iran deal. It seems to be a done deal, and we hope for the best.
But I have a very difficult time understanding how Jews who advance all the talking points of the proponents of the deal think they know what’s best for Israel’s security, and are critical of Israel’s prime minister for looking out for the security needs of his country, in a very hostile and dysfunctional Middle East.
Even US politicians who support the deal say Iran can’t be trusted. And Israel is much closer to Iran geographically than the United States is to Iran.
I don’t know if sins in political moves require teshuva. And truth be told, it is hard to make a judgment call of who is right or wrong, especially when people have very strong opinions that will not be swayed.
But the Jewish people need to be united, because, as the old saying goes, “United we stand” while “divided” – as we surely have been over these political dealings – “we fall.”
If only we could create a real hak-hel, we’d see how much we have in common. If only.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Shabbos Shuva is named for the first word in the Haftorah, but it also refers to the fact that the Shabbos falls between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, at a time when our people are experiencing the “Aseret Y’mei Teshuvah” – the Ten Days Of Repentance.
How do we repent? What needs to be done. I suppose the classic answers have been talked about – not saying Lashon hora, treating each other nicely, and of course, making amends with God over our misdeeds.
Devarim 31:10-13 contains what the Sefer Hachinukh lists as commandment number 612, the mitzvah of “Hak’hel.” This commandment is fulfilled every seven years at the end of a shmittah year, as all of the Jewish people gather in Jerusalem during the holiday of Sukkot to hear portions of the Torah read aloud. While this Biblical commandment is time dependent, the category from which women are generally exempt from obligation, this is one of the exceptions to the rule (the others are Shabbat and eating matzah on Pesach – see Kiddushin 34a-b) (there are many time-dependent Rabbinic commandments to which women are bound).
Collectively the entire nation would hear the king read different portions, altogether over half, of the book of Devarim.
Surely this spectacle was memorable, with the king at the center and trumpets sounding. The Torah was heralded between the king and the high priest and the members of the “Knesset” (not Israel’s modern day parliament), and the king would recite seven blessings praising God, the Jewish people, and the relationship they shared, before he actually read the Torah.
A once in seven years experience is certainly a source of inspiration. Ask anyone who has been to the Siyum Hashas. But even such inspiration often falls short of lasting through to the next gathering of the masses, if it even lasts one month.
Hak’hel was never the same as the tri-annual “aliyah l’regel” of the holidays. Not everyone went every holiday, and not everyone could afford to make the trip so often. But once every seven years gives people enough time to budget and to plan, to make sure they are there to fulfill this great mitzvah.
How could the event of Hak’hel serve as the inspiration it is meant to be if it only takes place once every seven years?
It would seem every seven years Jews are meant to have a unifying moment. We go to our homes, to our communities, to our own lives and we tend to lose sight of the greater picture of the Jewish community, what we collectively share and value and do to enhance our lives. Hak’hel serves as a reminder for this.
The hak’hel moment is meant to inspire other experiences, to inspire a lifestyle, to inspire a regimen of continued education and learning that reflects all the spiritual grandeur invoked in the heartfelt reading of the Jewish king on that day in the Beit Hamikdash on the holiday of Sukkot. Hak’hel should be the climax, not the initiation. We should be living an ongoing life of inspiration which reaches its pinnacle moment when we gather after an extended period of separation.
This year has its own rules for the use of Etrogim that come out of Israel, owing to the completion of the recent Shmittah (Sabbatical) year. Hakhel’s seven year cycle was related to Shmittah, so we have a deeper connection than usual this year to this special mitzvah.
But in the absence of the Beit Hamikdash, we do not experience Hak’hel. So what can it mean for us today?
The answer is quite simple. Hak’hel is a gathering most symbolic of the unity of the Jewish people. It is a time when the Jewish people were reminded that “there is more that unites you than divides you.”
This message is particularly poignant at this moment in history. I have had a number of political debates with religious Jews over the Iran deal. It seems to be a done deal, and we hope for the best.
But I have a very difficult time understanding how Jews who advance all the talking points of the proponents of the deal think they know what’s best for Israel’s security, and are critical of Israel’s prime minister for looking out for the security needs of his country, in a very hostile and dysfunctional Middle East.
Even US politicians who support the deal say Iran can’t be trusted. And Israel is much closer to Iran geographically than the United States is to Iran.
I don’t know if sins in political moves require teshuva. And truth be told, it is hard to make a judgment call of who is right or wrong, especially when people have very strong opinions that will not be swayed.
But the Jewish people need to be united, because, as the old saying goes, “United we stand” while “divided” – as we surely have been over these political dealings – “we fall.”
If only we could create a real hak-hel, we’d see how much we have in common. If only.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
The "Holy" Aspect of Jewish Peoplehood
Parshat Nitzavim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The biggest news story of the week (other than the Iran deal) was about a clerk in Kentucky who has a fundamentalist viewpoint on understanding the Bible.
Regardless of one’s view of the story, some of the reaction I have seen in social media includes a clip from the West Wing, in which Martin Sheen’s character asks a similar-minded (to the Kentucky clerk) person a series of questions asking if certain fundamentalist views of stoning and putting to death from the Bible ought to also be listened to since “they’re in the Bible.”
Watching this narrative play out, I am grateful not only that the Torah was given to the Jewish people – and not to people who understand it on its surface level – but that we also have an oral tradition that helps us understand the parts of the Torah that are difficult to understand. We know that the death penalty, for example, was hardly ever carried out because of our abhorrence of violence, as well as all the technicalities that otherwise prevent a death sentence being issued.
We know that the Torah’s rules were given to the Jewish people, and with the exception of the Noahide laws, they are not binding on people of other faiths.
People of faiths that do not observe Rosh Hashana this Sunday night (Bamidbar 29:1) don’t have to follow the rules of kosher eating, or Sabbath, or any other laws that were established in God’s Torah for the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov.
And this point is established very clearly in the fourth verse of our parsha, when Moshe reminds the people that they are being brought into the covenant, “He is establishing you as His nation, so that He will be a God to you, just as He promised you, and as He swore to your ancestors, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.”
A simple question could be asked. Why is this wonderful promise of a covenant with God prefaced by the terrible rebuke of chapter 28? Why is there so much warning and punishment facing this nation, especially if God loved the forefathers and wants their descendants to be His special nation?
In the Or HaChaim’s view, the answer is really quite simple. If you know the repercussions of your deeds, and how devastating they can be, you’ll have no interest in rebelling against His Godliness. You will always maintain the connection with Him.
Or HaChaim offers a second reason as well. There is a reason that God wants this nation. Because at this point, under Moshe’s leadership, the nation is identified as an “Am Kadosh,” a holy nation. This nation, the descendants of God’s beloved Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, have the capacity to achieve a holiness that is unmatched in God’s eyes, by any other nation.
Using the language Yosef uses to explain to his brothers why his being sold to Egypt was actually good, Or HaChaim suggests that the rebuke’s strong language is merely to affirm for Israel that they are God’s nation. Without the Rebuke, one day a person will commit a mild infraction and the next day he’ll commit a severe one, and each slip will take Israelites away from being the “Adat HaKedusha” – the community of Holiness.
The message Or HaChaim concludes with is that we must look out for one another to create a communal mind that prevents sinning. This is what helps us create a nation of destiny. And this, he explains, is only for our own good, to help us survive as a people.
It is a shame that too often what unites us is tragedy and suffering. How many people were numbed by the terrible car crash in the Catskills on Monday, that took the lives of three wonderful people?
We have our Torah, we learn it, we study it, we connect with it in the deepest of ways. And we must connect with our fellow religionists, not only in times of tragedy, but also in good times, when the spirit all around is upbeat.
We all have different views of the world, and there are times when we disagree. But the lesson we can take at this time of year is that we have so much more in common than not. And our commonality begins with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and ends in the place we all agree to tap into our shared experiences as their descendants.
The more united we are, the more holiness we can achieve. It is our learning and our dedication to what we do that helps us become this holy nation, through proper understanding of the Torah and through the actions that define who we are.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The biggest news story of the week (other than the Iran deal) was about a clerk in Kentucky who has a fundamentalist viewpoint on understanding the Bible.
Regardless of one’s view of the story, some of the reaction I have seen in social media includes a clip from the West Wing, in which Martin Sheen’s character asks a similar-minded (to the Kentucky clerk) person a series of questions asking if certain fundamentalist views of stoning and putting to death from the Bible ought to also be listened to since “they’re in the Bible.”
Watching this narrative play out, I am grateful not only that the Torah was given to the Jewish people – and not to people who understand it on its surface level – but that we also have an oral tradition that helps us understand the parts of the Torah that are difficult to understand. We know that the death penalty, for example, was hardly ever carried out because of our abhorrence of violence, as well as all the technicalities that otherwise prevent a death sentence being issued.
We know that the Torah’s rules were given to the Jewish people, and with the exception of the Noahide laws, they are not binding on people of other faiths.
People of faiths that do not observe Rosh Hashana this Sunday night (Bamidbar 29:1) don’t have to follow the rules of kosher eating, or Sabbath, or any other laws that were established in God’s Torah for the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov.
And this point is established very clearly in the fourth verse of our parsha, when Moshe reminds the people that they are being brought into the covenant, “He is establishing you as His nation, so that He will be a God to you, just as He promised you, and as He swore to your ancestors, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.”
A simple question could be asked. Why is this wonderful promise of a covenant with God prefaced by the terrible rebuke of chapter 28? Why is there so much warning and punishment facing this nation, especially if God loved the forefathers and wants their descendants to be His special nation?
In the Or HaChaim’s view, the answer is really quite simple. If you know the repercussions of your deeds, and how devastating they can be, you’ll have no interest in rebelling against His Godliness. You will always maintain the connection with Him.
Or HaChaim offers a second reason as well. There is a reason that God wants this nation. Because at this point, under Moshe’s leadership, the nation is identified as an “Am Kadosh,” a holy nation. This nation, the descendants of God’s beloved Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, have the capacity to achieve a holiness that is unmatched in God’s eyes, by any other nation.
Using the language Yosef uses to explain to his brothers why his being sold to Egypt was actually good, Or HaChaim suggests that the rebuke’s strong language is merely to affirm for Israel that they are God’s nation. Without the Rebuke, one day a person will commit a mild infraction and the next day he’ll commit a severe one, and each slip will take Israelites away from being the “Adat HaKedusha” – the community of Holiness.
The message Or HaChaim concludes with is that we must look out for one another to create a communal mind that prevents sinning. This is what helps us create a nation of destiny. And this, he explains, is only for our own good, to help us survive as a people.
It is a shame that too often what unites us is tragedy and suffering. How many people were numbed by the terrible car crash in the Catskills on Monday, that took the lives of three wonderful people?
We have our Torah, we learn it, we study it, we connect with it in the deepest of ways. And we must connect with our fellow religionists, not only in times of tragedy, but also in good times, when the spirit all around is upbeat.
We all have different views of the world, and there are times when we disagree. But the lesson we can take at this time of year is that we have so much more in common than not. And our commonality begins with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and ends in the place we all agree to tap into our shared experiences as their descendants.
The more united we are, the more holiness we can achieve. It is our learning and our dedication to what we do that helps us become this holy nation, through proper understanding of the Torah and through the actions that define who we are.
Friday, September 4, 2015
The Clarity of Having Consequences
Parshat Ki Tavo
by Rabbi Avi Billet
With the Ashkenazic community beginning Selichot this Saturday night, with Rosh Hashana around a week and a half away, bringing with it the Day of Judgment, we are left to examine our deeds, our choices, our lives, and look at where we have brought ourselves, and where we are headed.
At this particular juncture in history, we are also faced with the stark reality of an economic “peace” deal with a rogue terrorist nation that may become the reality of our world in the near future.
Irrespective of one’s political views and loyalties, it is hard to imagine how an “agreement” with Iran, an avowed enemy of the United States and Israel, will be followed by that enemy, when the leadership of Iran has no track record of being honest in any effort towards fostering peace in the world.
With so much at stake, with Israel being geographically so close to Iran, one wonders what it all means? Is this a test? Could we wake up one morning to see the landscape of the Middle East altered forever? I certainly hope not. Which is why we must do whatever we can to tell our representatives that this will not be good for the U.S. or Israel.
Jeffrey Goldberg wrote an article for The Atlantic, dated August 27, 2015, entitled “10 Questions for President Obama About Iran.” The questions are Robert Satloff’s and the fifth question includes this: “You refused to spell out the penalties Iran would suffer for violations of the agreement… [as it might] potentially lessen the deterrent effect… [yet] as a constitutional law professor, you can appreciate that having clarity in terms of penalties for lawbreaking is a basic element of our legal system.”
When one looks at our parsha, one can’t help be overwhelmed by the penalties declared upon the Jewish people for breaking God’s law. History has proven over and over again that God’s law is meant to triumph over man’s whim. And it has.
To be fair, the Torah also proclaims the blessings for good behavior and for following the Torah, and it is this focus which gives a positive side to an otherwise depressing Torah portion.
When looking at the section of the Tochacha (Rebuke), what is the most frightening sentiment in there? I suppose this question, polled to 100 people, might get close to 100 different answers. But I think that the opening statement is the scariest thought. “If you do not obey God your Lord and do not carefully keep all His commandments and decrees as I am prescribing them for you today…” (28:15)
Forget about the rest of the sentence. It doesn’t matter. Can we imagine the Jewish people – who lived a miraculous existence in the wilderness, who were one generation removed from Revelation at Sinai (some of them may have experienced Revelation as children and were not subject to the decree of dying in the wilderness), even considering not obeying God?
And yet we see it all the time. We are ourselves guilty often enough, of not obeying and keeping the commandments. And we excuse our behavior with the “li’l ole me” argument: Does God really care what li’l ole me does? Is my being unscrupulous really such a big deal – I’m just one little person? Is my violation really going to shake the world, I’m a nobody anyway! And besides, look how humble I am!
The answer to these questions is irrelevant. There are plenty of instances in the Bible where one person made a difference, for good or for bad, either saving the entire nation, or causing massive destruction. Some of the good ones include Pinchas (Bamidbar 28), Yael (Shoftim 4), Yonatan (Shmuel I 14). The bad ones include Korach, Zimri (Bamidbar 28), Achan (Yehoshua 7).
In this particular time, when Christians who support Israel often quote the verse from Bereshit 12:3, when God promises Avraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and those who curse you, I will curse,” it behooves us to deserve being called the children of Abraham. And we earn this honorific by honoring our God and following His laws to the best of our abilities.
We do not have a crystal ball to know what the future will bring. We need to do our part to communicate with our representatives, and we need to pray that God will give them the proper guidance to do what is best for the United States, for Israel, and for the world.
And, particularly as we head into the High Holiday season, we need to not only vamp up our prayers, but we need to raise the bar on our commitment, so God can never say about us “If you do not obey God your Lord and do not carefully keep all His commandments.” We understand quite well what consequences are. Our people have suffered much since the destruction of the Temple.
If consequences were made clear for what violations on Iran’s part would translate to, there might be a different perspective to be had. But with no consequences, Iran has nothing to lose in following its veteran ways of marching to their own drum.
Hopefully if we do our part, the blessings of the parsha will come true, and Iran will no longer be a threat to our People across the globe, especially in Israel. Amen.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
With the Ashkenazic community beginning Selichot this Saturday night, with Rosh Hashana around a week and a half away, bringing with it the Day of Judgment, we are left to examine our deeds, our choices, our lives, and look at where we have brought ourselves, and where we are headed.
At this particular juncture in history, we are also faced with the stark reality of an economic “peace” deal with a rogue terrorist nation that may become the reality of our world in the near future.
Irrespective of one’s political views and loyalties, it is hard to imagine how an “agreement” with Iran, an avowed enemy of the United States and Israel, will be followed by that enemy, when the leadership of Iran has no track record of being honest in any effort towards fostering peace in the world.
With so much at stake, with Israel being geographically so close to Iran, one wonders what it all means? Is this a test? Could we wake up one morning to see the landscape of the Middle East altered forever? I certainly hope not. Which is why we must do whatever we can to tell our representatives that this will not be good for the U.S. or Israel.
Jeffrey Goldberg wrote an article for The Atlantic, dated August 27, 2015, entitled “10 Questions for President Obama About Iran.” The questions are Robert Satloff’s and the fifth question includes this: “You refused to spell out the penalties Iran would suffer for violations of the agreement… [as it might] potentially lessen the deterrent effect… [yet] as a constitutional law professor, you can appreciate that having clarity in terms of penalties for lawbreaking is a basic element of our legal system.”
When one looks at our parsha, one can’t help be overwhelmed by the penalties declared upon the Jewish people for breaking God’s law. History has proven over and over again that God’s law is meant to triumph over man’s whim. And it has.
To be fair, the Torah also proclaims the blessings for good behavior and for following the Torah, and it is this focus which gives a positive side to an otherwise depressing Torah portion.
When looking at the section of the Tochacha (Rebuke), what is the most frightening sentiment in there? I suppose this question, polled to 100 people, might get close to 100 different answers. But I think that the opening statement is the scariest thought. “If you do not obey God your Lord and do not carefully keep all His commandments and decrees as I am prescribing them for you today…” (28:15)
Forget about the rest of the sentence. It doesn’t matter. Can we imagine the Jewish people – who lived a miraculous existence in the wilderness, who were one generation removed from Revelation at Sinai (some of them may have experienced Revelation as children and were not subject to the decree of dying in the wilderness), even considering not obeying God?
And yet we see it all the time. We are ourselves guilty often enough, of not obeying and keeping the commandments. And we excuse our behavior with the “li’l ole me” argument: Does God really care what li’l ole me does? Is my being unscrupulous really such a big deal – I’m just one little person? Is my violation really going to shake the world, I’m a nobody anyway! And besides, look how humble I am!
The answer to these questions is irrelevant. There are plenty of instances in the Bible where one person made a difference, for good or for bad, either saving the entire nation, or causing massive destruction. Some of the good ones include Pinchas (Bamidbar 28), Yael (Shoftim 4), Yonatan (Shmuel I 14). The bad ones include Korach, Zimri (Bamidbar 28), Achan (Yehoshua 7).
In this particular time, when Christians who support Israel often quote the verse from Bereshit 12:3, when God promises Avraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and those who curse you, I will curse,” it behooves us to deserve being called the children of Abraham. And we earn this honorific by honoring our God and following His laws to the best of our abilities.
We do not have a crystal ball to know what the future will bring. We need to do our part to communicate with our representatives, and we need to pray that God will give them the proper guidance to do what is best for the United States, for Israel, and for the world.
And, particularly as we head into the High Holiday season, we need to not only vamp up our prayers, but we need to raise the bar on our commitment, so God can never say about us “If you do not obey God your Lord and do not carefully keep all His commandments.” We understand quite well what consequences are. Our people have suffered much since the destruction of the Temple.
If consequences were made clear for what violations on Iran’s part would translate to, there might be a different perspective to be had. But with no consequences, Iran has nothing to lose in following its veteran ways of marching to their own drum.
Hopefully if we do our part, the blessings of the parsha will come true, and Iran will no longer be a threat to our People across the globe, especially in Israel. Amen.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
No (Male) Moabites - A Reminder To Forgive and Move On
Parshat Ki Tetze
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Everyone who is familiar with the story of Ruth knows the Talmudic sentiment (Yevamot 69a, 77a and Ketuvot 7b) that a Moabite female is permitted to join the Jewish people. The Talmud has a classic word-game which helps clarify the mitzvah in Devarim 23:4-7, that an Ammonite and a Moabite may never join the Jewish people.
The Torah gives two reasons for the mitzvah: “Because they did not greet you with bread and water when you were on the way out of Egypt, and also because they hired Balaam son of Beor from Pethor in Aram Naharaim to curse you.” (23:5) (Compare this to Devarim 2:29)
It is understandable that the Moabites would be viewed negatively in that generation. But forever? The modern reader will certainly be troubled by what seems to be a racial sentiment in this law, that there is an inherent flaw in Moabite males that can never be undone, that there is no way Moabite men can ever overcome their natural feelings towards the Jewish people, no matter how society evolves and the world changes.
Could this really be the Torah’s message?
To call this a racial flaw is wrong, simply because Moabite women are welcome to join the Jewish people. But putting the Moabite men in such a category seems to fall under the rubric of a national “punishment” – irrespective of an individual’s behavior – that can last forever.
There is much more background to this story that is needed to help us understand the Torah’s message. Firstly, Ammon and Moav were children of Avraham’s nephew Lot. This made them, in Torah terms, brothers with the Israelite nation. They were untouchable and their land was untouchable. However, owing to the fact that Sichon King of Emori had conquered the lands of Ammon and Moav (Bamidbar 21:26), their original lands were no longer unavailable to the Israelites. When Sichon came out to attack (Bamidbar 21:23), he opened himself to losing all his lands, including those he had conquered himself.
See how Israel treated Edom (Bamidbar 20:14-21), Esav’s kin, offering to merely pass through their land while reminding them “We are your brothers, you know what we’ve been through,” we have no issues with you as we are merely going to retrieve our Promised Land. There is no reason to assume they would have treated Moav any differently (See Shoftim 11:18). And yet, Moav spends an entire Torah portion (Parshat Balak) trying to destroy the Israelite nation through necromancy and the curses of Bilaam.
The Midrash Tanaim raises the possibility that “when you come to a city to fight, you should first offer peace” includes reaching out in this fashion to the Ammon and Moav nations, but concludes that it does not include them. But then the Midrash goes on to recount an episode when a potential Ammonite convert came to the religious court during the Talmudic period. Rabban Gamliel told him he could not join the Jewish people, while Rabbi Shimon said he could. When Rabban Gamliel challenged Rabbi Shimon based on the verse in the Torah, Rabbi Yehoshua countered saying that Sennacherib had thrown the world into disarray replacing populations, and there was no longer any truly identifiable Ammonite or Moabite.
In simple terms, this would suggest that God had a plan for a certain amount of time, knowing that Sennacherib would come along one day and neutralize this law – along with the law of killing Amalekites, etc.
Another answer is one that I first read in a sermon of Rabbi Norman Lamm from the 1960s in which he decried judging the Torah’s laws and narrative based on modern sensibilities which tend to be become more liberal over time.
And yet, maybe there is something to the everlasting grudge. Ramban says, “Even though they are your family, and Avraham your father loved their father [Lot] like a brother, you cannot be brothers with them, because they abrogated the covenant of brotherhood, and destroyed it forever.” Certainly until Sennacherib, the national punishment against the male Moabite population would be carried forever. This is not about the individuals – it is a collective rule that no Moabite can become an Israelite.
In our modern world, we often look to sins of the past and say “we are not like those people any more. We have evolved. We have tolerance and patience now.” Think about the relationship between Jews and Christians for millennia, blacks and whites for centuries in the Americas, and all the politics which were attached to the Confederate Battle Flag in the aftermath of the tragic shooting in mid-June at the AME Church in South Carolina mid-June. Christians are often the biggest supporters of Israel, racism is not allowed in the US as an official policy, and long-time Southerners have had to express that the Confederate flag stands for honor and not racism, at the same time as it is being pulled off of flagpoles at public buildings. Society evolves. Thanks to Sennacherib, even the Moabite could join the Jewish people today.
And yet I know people who had a fallout and will never ever move past their fight. They will never forgive. They will never pick up the phone and make the call to move on in peace. There is a piece of human nature in this. But it is unhealthy for a society, and especially for a Jewish community, to see these kinds of attitudes in play.
Rosh Hashana is fast approaching. We need to find a way to put the hurt behind us, and foment peace in our own ranks. Only then will our Teshuvah (repentance) be complete.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Everyone who is familiar with the story of Ruth knows the Talmudic sentiment (Yevamot 69a, 77a and Ketuvot 7b) that a Moabite female is permitted to join the Jewish people. The Talmud has a classic word-game which helps clarify the mitzvah in Devarim 23:4-7, that an Ammonite and a Moabite may never join the Jewish people.
The Torah gives two reasons for the mitzvah: “Because they did not greet you with bread and water when you were on the way out of Egypt, and also because they hired Balaam son of Beor from Pethor in Aram Naharaim to curse you.” (23:5) (Compare this to Devarim 2:29)
It is understandable that the Moabites would be viewed negatively in that generation. But forever? The modern reader will certainly be troubled by what seems to be a racial sentiment in this law, that there is an inherent flaw in Moabite males that can never be undone, that there is no way Moabite men can ever overcome their natural feelings towards the Jewish people, no matter how society evolves and the world changes.
Could this really be the Torah’s message?
To call this a racial flaw is wrong, simply because Moabite women are welcome to join the Jewish people. But putting the Moabite men in such a category seems to fall under the rubric of a national “punishment” – irrespective of an individual’s behavior – that can last forever.
There is much more background to this story that is needed to help us understand the Torah’s message. Firstly, Ammon and Moav were children of Avraham’s nephew Lot. This made them, in Torah terms, brothers with the Israelite nation. They were untouchable and their land was untouchable. However, owing to the fact that Sichon King of Emori had conquered the lands of Ammon and Moav (Bamidbar 21:26), their original lands were no longer unavailable to the Israelites. When Sichon came out to attack (Bamidbar 21:23), he opened himself to losing all his lands, including those he had conquered himself.
See how Israel treated Edom (Bamidbar 20:14-21), Esav’s kin, offering to merely pass through their land while reminding them “We are your brothers, you know what we’ve been through,” we have no issues with you as we are merely going to retrieve our Promised Land. There is no reason to assume they would have treated Moav any differently (See Shoftim 11:18). And yet, Moav spends an entire Torah portion (Parshat Balak) trying to destroy the Israelite nation through necromancy and the curses of Bilaam.
The Midrash Tanaim raises the possibility that “when you come to a city to fight, you should first offer peace” includes reaching out in this fashion to the Ammon and Moav nations, but concludes that it does not include them. But then the Midrash goes on to recount an episode when a potential Ammonite convert came to the religious court during the Talmudic period. Rabban Gamliel told him he could not join the Jewish people, while Rabbi Shimon said he could. When Rabban Gamliel challenged Rabbi Shimon based on the verse in the Torah, Rabbi Yehoshua countered saying that Sennacherib had thrown the world into disarray replacing populations, and there was no longer any truly identifiable Ammonite or Moabite.
In simple terms, this would suggest that God had a plan for a certain amount of time, knowing that Sennacherib would come along one day and neutralize this law – along with the law of killing Amalekites, etc.
Another answer is one that I first read in a sermon of Rabbi Norman Lamm from the 1960s in which he decried judging the Torah’s laws and narrative based on modern sensibilities which tend to be become more liberal over time.
And yet, maybe there is something to the everlasting grudge. Ramban says, “Even though they are your family, and Avraham your father loved their father [Lot] like a brother, you cannot be brothers with them, because they abrogated the covenant of brotherhood, and destroyed it forever.” Certainly until Sennacherib, the national punishment against the male Moabite population would be carried forever. This is not about the individuals – it is a collective rule that no Moabite can become an Israelite.
In our modern world, we often look to sins of the past and say “we are not like those people any more. We have evolved. We have tolerance and patience now.” Think about the relationship between Jews and Christians for millennia, blacks and whites for centuries in the Americas, and all the politics which were attached to the Confederate Battle Flag in the aftermath of the tragic shooting in mid-June at the AME Church in South Carolina mid-June. Christians are often the biggest supporters of Israel, racism is not allowed in the US as an official policy, and long-time Southerners have had to express that the Confederate flag stands for honor and not racism, at the same time as it is being pulled off of flagpoles at public buildings. Society evolves. Thanks to Sennacherib, even the Moabite could join the Jewish people today.
And yet I know people who had a fallout and will never ever move past their fight. They will never forgive. They will never pick up the phone and make the call to move on in peace. There is a piece of human nature in this. But it is unhealthy for a society, and especially for a Jewish community, to see these kinds of attitudes in play.
Rosh Hashana is fast approaching. We need to find a way to put the hurt behind us, and foment peace in our own ranks. Only then will our Teshuvah (repentance) be complete.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
The Tree In Me
or The Connection Between Appointing Honest Judges and Not Planting Trees for Idolatry
Parshat Shoftim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
At the beginning of Parshat Behar, when the Torah describes the laws studied at Mt. Sinai, Rashi asks a question that is well-known by those who study Rashi’s commentary: What does the topic of Shmittah (resting the land on the seventh year) have to do with Sinai? This question is utilized in almost equivalent usage as “what does this have to do with the price of tea in China?”, meaning what do two unrelated topics mentioned near each other have to do with one another?
We can ask the same question at the beginning of our Parsha. We are first told that judges and officers need to be placed at the gates of cities, and that they should be upright and honest men who do not take bribes. Immediately after this, we are told, “Do not plan an asheirah or any tree near the altar of God.” (16:21) An asheirah is usually defined as a tree that is worshipped in some kind of idolatrous practice, but Rashbam says in this context it refers to any kind of tree, and Rashi adds that a building is also forbidden to be erected near the altar.
What does the asheirah tree have to do with appointing honest judges?
In Sanhedrin 7b, Resh Lakish describes anyone who appoints an unfit judge as being just as guilty as if he planted an asheirah tree. The Midrash Aggadah repeats this teaching without attribution. Some of the commentaries on this verse echo Resh Lakish, noting, for example, that the numerical value (gematria) of “asheirah” (506) is the same as “dayan she’eno hagun” (an unfit judge), which indicates that appointing an unfit judge is like planting an asheirah tree, because the judges sat near the mizbeach (Baal Haturim). Targum Yonatan removes the hints and says rather straightforwardly, “Just as you are not permitted to plant an asheirah next to the Mizbeach of God, so too you are not allowed to match a foolish man to dictate the law along with wise judges.”
The Alshikh makes the parallel a little more poetic, as he gives us an image which we can understand. Just as a planted tree grows and becomes more beautiful and impressive over time, even though the asheirah is either for idolatry or is simply planted in the wrong place, a bad and unfit judge starts off with small iniquities, and becomes increasingly corrupt as well as entrenched in his position over time. Similarly, Maimonides (laws of Sanhedrin 3:8) describes how easy it is to justify hiring a bad judge based on his social skills, his strength, nepotism, his knowledge of languages, etc. and not based on the proper criteria, such as his knowing the law. We similarly might admire a tree, not knowing whether it is a tree used for idolatry.
It is notable that the warning in the Torah for how a judge should not behave, as well as the warning in the Torah against planting an asheirah, sound the same. The word in question is spelled differently, but to the ear, it can be confused due to the similarity of sound: “Lo tateh” means do not bend judgment, “Lo titah” means do not plant.
The Kli Yakar notes (quoting a Midrash) that all of the warnings at the beginning of our parsha, were engraved in the steps leading up to King Solomon’s throne. Don’t bend, don’t show favor, don’t take bribes, don’t plant, don’t erect (a monument), and don’t offer (a blemished animal). The connection to Solomon was that all of these rules applied to whomever was serving as a judge.
Kli Yakar explains the many parallels between judges and the rules that follow it, about planting trees and erecting monuments. For example, a judge should not stand alone like a monument, but should be one of many “stones” in a Sanhedrin, just as there are many stones that make up a mizbeach. This makes it easier to be just, and to avoid bribes.
In 20:19 we are reminded that a person is, in some ways, compared to a tree. In one of the last mishnayot in Avot 3, Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya teaches how a person whose deeds are greater than his wisdom is compared to a tree with very strong roots who can’t be toppled over by even the strongest of winds.
We have a challenge to take the tree metaphor and apply it to our lives in the best of ways. To make sure our roots are strong, that our foundation isn’t flawed, and that we are planting ourselves in the right places to allow for the best spiritual growth we can achieve.
The further we spread our branches and leaves, the harder it becomes to nourish the outer limits of our reach. But if we maintain the connection to our roots and to our source, we can continue to grow, stronger and taller, as the canopy we create becomes a source of nourishment, shade, comfort, and inspiration to ourselves, our families, and those we care about most.
Parshat Shoftim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
At the beginning of Parshat Behar, when the Torah describes the laws studied at Mt. Sinai, Rashi asks a question that is well-known by those who study Rashi’s commentary: What does the topic of Shmittah (resting the land on the seventh year) have to do with Sinai? This question is utilized in almost equivalent usage as “what does this have to do with the price of tea in China?”, meaning what do two unrelated topics mentioned near each other have to do with one another?
We can ask the same question at the beginning of our Parsha. We are first told that judges and officers need to be placed at the gates of cities, and that they should be upright and honest men who do not take bribes. Immediately after this, we are told, “Do not plan an asheirah or any tree near the altar of God.” (16:21) An asheirah is usually defined as a tree that is worshipped in some kind of idolatrous practice, but Rashbam says in this context it refers to any kind of tree, and Rashi adds that a building is also forbidden to be erected near the altar.
What does the asheirah tree have to do with appointing honest judges?
In Sanhedrin 7b, Resh Lakish describes anyone who appoints an unfit judge as being just as guilty as if he planted an asheirah tree. The Midrash Aggadah repeats this teaching without attribution. Some of the commentaries on this verse echo Resh Lakish, noting, for example, that the numerical value (gematria) of “asheirah” (506) is the same as “dayan she’eno hagun” (an unfit judge), which indicates that appointing an unfit judge is like planting an asheirah tree, because the judges sat near the mizbeach (Baal Haturim). Targum Yonatan removes the hints and says rather straightforwardly, “Just as you are not permitted to plant an asheirah next to the Mizbeach of God, so too you are not allowed to match a foolish man to dictate the law along with wise judges.”
The Alshikh makes the parallel a little more poetic, as he gives us an image which we can understand. Just as a planted tree grows and becomes more beautiful and impressive over time, even though the asheirah is either for idolatry or is simply planted in the wrong place, a bad and unfit judge starts off with small iniquities, and becomes increasingly corrupt as well as entrenched in his position over time. Similarly, Maimonides (laws of Sanhedrin 3:8) describes how easy it is to justify hiring a bad judge based on his social skills, his strength, nepotism, his knowledge of languages, etc. and not based on the proper criteria, such as his knowing the law. We similarly might admire a tree, not knowing whether it is a tree used for idolatry.
It is notable that the warning in the Torah for how a judge should not behave, as well as the warning in the Torah against planting an asheirah, sound the same. The word in question is spelled differently, but to the ear, it can be confused due to the similarity of sound: “Lo tateh” means do not bend judgment, “Lo titah” means do not plant.
The Kli Yakar notes (quoting a Midrash) that all of the warnings at the beginning of our parsha, were engraved in the steps leading up to King Solomon’s throne. Don’t bend, don’t show favor, don’t take bribes, don’t plant, don’t erect (a monument), and don’t offer (a blemished animal). The connection to Solomon was that all of these rules applied to whomever was serving as a judge.
Kli Yakar explains the many parallels between judges and the rules that follow it, about planting trees and erecting monuments. For example, a judge should not stand alone like a monument, but should be one of many “stones” in a Sanhedrin, just as there are many stones that make up a mizbeach. This makes it easier to be just, and to avoid bribes.
In 20:19 we are reminded that a person is, in some ways, compared to a tree. In one of the last mishnayot in Avot 3, Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya teaches how a person whose deeds are greater than his wisdom is compared to a tree with very strong roots who can’t be toppled over by even the strongest of winds.
We have a challenge to take the tree metaphor and apply it to our lives in the best of ways. To make sure our roots are strong, that our foundation isn’t flawed, and that we are planting ourselves in the right places to allow for the best spiritual growth we can achieve.
The further we spread our branches and leaves, the harder it becomes to nourish the outer limits of our reach. But if we maintain the connection to our roots and to our source, we can continue to grow, stronger and taller, as the canopy we create becomes a source of nourishment, shade, comfort, and inspiration to ourselves, our families, and those we care about most.
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