Knowing God - is it Possible?

Parshat Va'Etchanan

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The verse in the latter half of Chapter 4 reads as follows:

 (לט) וְיָדַעְתָּ֣ הַיּ֗וֹם וַהֲשֵׁבֹתָ֘ אֶל־לְבָבֶךָ֒ כִּ֤י יְקֹוָק֙ ה֣וּא הָֽאֱלֹהִ֔ים בַּשָּׁמַ֣יִם מִמַּ֔עַל וְעַל־הָאָ֖רֶץ מִתָּ֑חַת אֵ֖ין עֽוֹד: 

“And you shall know today, and you shall return to your heart that the Lord is God in the heavens above and on the earth below, there is no other.” 

 This verse is one which appears in our liturgy several times, including in Aleinu, and is therefore quite familiar to us.

In the Rav Peninim Chumash, the author uses this verse as a springboard for a mini-essay entitled “A teaching for how to serve God.” Pointing to the view that this verse is the source for the positive commandment to do our best to know God and appreciate his Oneness, he directs us to contemplate how we get to such an understanding. 

 There is an obvious acknowledgment that our ability to understand God is limited, if not impossible, and therefore the Torah instructs us to “return to your heart,” much like a person would meditate over a concept, consider different ways of understanding something, and arrive at conclusions that are the closest thing to truth after everything else may seem to be out of the realm of reality. This is different than the way we hear people speak today where they may claim to speak “their truth” or “my truth.” When it comes to God there is ONE truth, though when it comes to God there is also a significance to what one’s personal relationship with God might be. 

 The parallel is drawn to Eliyahu HaNavi who, in his mystical encounter with God at Mt Horeb, came to the conclusion that God was not in the wind, and not in the noise, not in the fire, but in the still, silent voice. What this even means is hard for us to grasp, but for Eliyahu, in that moment in time and in that special place, it gave him to confidence to realize that God was with him and that his worries over how King Achav would treat him, even with a price on his head, were irrelevant, as Eliyahu understood where God is, and what God is and how His plans for Eliyahu would determine the remainder of Eliyahu’s life, much more than Achav would figure in that outcome. 

The concern over how one will engage with God is magnified by the ever-present concern that one’s internal inclination (one’s yetzer) might steer a person in an undesirable direction, away from belief in God. The specific words of this verse covers all arenas – God is in the heavens, controlling the planets and cosmos, and He is above all angelic creatures and on the earth, in a world in which human behavior is idealized as humility and lowliness, below the lowest depths. 

There is no other is the quintessential reminder that if someone is looking for a different being to fill that void and the capacity for a God-like figure in one’s existence, one is looking for something that simply doesn’t exist in reality, even if one may conceptualize or choose to think there is something else out there.

We must at the very least understand that our concepts of God are often informed by our experience and our age. I would imagine that for many people, their developed concept of God from when they were children is one thing, while that image evolved with their own adolescence, and further developed with the person’s aging. Some view God as an old man in the sky, some as an angry, wrathful and vengeful Deity, while others view God as the ultimate comfort and source of solace. But it is not God Who changes, but we who change on a constant basis, and therefore how we relate to Him as the Almighty, All-knowing, All-seeing also changes with our own maturity. Some people question God at many turns. Some people put stock in the statement that “for the non-believer there are no answers, while for the believer there are no questions.” 

Sometimes our perspective on God is based in our needs, sometimes it’s based in our trust in Him, sometimes it is informed by things we read. It may even sometimes be informed by our anger and frustrations. What Rav Peninim is telling us is that we should never be satisfied with an immature version of God that we may have conceived at an earlier stage of life. We must “return to our hearts” to challenge ourselves to have a better connection with God, such as one informed by the verses of the Shema which appear early in chapter 6 of this Parsha as well.

Our parsha contains what I like to call the “Mission Statement of Judaism” in all of its instruction regarding our relationship with God, and the reminders of historical events that brought Bnei Yisrael to the point they are now at in history, on the cusp of entering the Land, and shortly before the death of Moshe, the man who brought them through the wilderness, through good times and bad, through thick and thin. 

Recognizing his special relationship with God is also a great reminder of the realness of God. 

 For me personally, in the dark and contemplative moments when questions like “Is all this real?” and “how do I know this is the truth?” cross my mind, one answer I often fall back on is that there were incredibly genius rabbis, in our generations, in previous generations, who dedicated their lives and all of their scholarship to delving into the Torah, exploring the furthest reaches of halakha as a guide to living the life they believed was the absolute “Emes” (truth). If they saw and recognized the truth in our way of life, who am I, who doesn’t reach their toes, to suggest they weren’t on to something, that the wholeness and fullness they saw and experienced in the vastness of the Sea of the Talmud, and the totality of Torah development they mastered was anything other than absolute truth? 

This verse is telling us we don’t need to look to other people (though some may discern meaning and depth through such exploration!) for the truth, as the ability to discern is within us, if we only recall that אין עוד, there is no other in whom to trust or to believe, as He is the ONLY ONE.

With that fundamental concept as our starting point and stepping stone, our ability to grow in our concept of God and our relationship with Him should only see success as we raise ever higher in our personal spiritual journeys, ever reaching higher in the eternal proverbial climb up the mountain that defines our goals-set existence of reaching the greatest spiritual heights available to us in our human existence.

The Death of Bilaam

Parshat Matos-Masei

by Rabbi Avi Billet

One of the features of Matos is the war with Midian, and in the verse which describes the defeat of the kings of Midian, we are told that Bilaam ben Be’or was killed by the sword as well (31:8). 

Considering where Bilaam lived (on the Euphrates) (22:5) and considering that we were told at the end of Parshas Balak that Bilaam had returned “to his place,” (24:25) which Chizkuni clarifies for us as “Aram Naharayim,” what was he doing at the Midian war? 

On a very simple level, it shows the degree of Bilaam’s hatred. No matter how poetic he waxed about only saying what God let him say, the fact that he turned around after a several hundred mile trek home to engage in a battle against Israel hundreds of miles away shows clearly that he was motivated by a deep-seeded hatred for Israel. 

 The Midrash Aggada (Rashi notes this is as well) indicates that he was looking for payment for the plague that killed 24,000 as if his curse had worked. (Ibn Ezra notes his 2-way journey while also focusing on Bilaam’s intent to be paid) 

This approach is challenged by Rabbi Eliyahu Mizrachi who wonders why Bilaam would think he’d get paid, considering that he did not curse, and was viewed as a failure by Balak, the man who hired him! Regardless, since Balak was the King of Moav, why would Bilaam go to Midian for payment? He raises two possibilities: 

1. He was going through Midian to get to Moav (I don’t think this argument holds up well on a map - AB) 
2. He was going to Midian, because it was Ziknei (the elders of) Midian who had invited him, at Balak’s behest. Since dealing with Balak had been unfruitful, and now that Israelites have lost 24,000 men, it seems his efforts were successful in the end, and therefore worthy of compensation.

The Maharal similarly offers that Moav could claim they didn’t owe Bilaam anything because their motivations in hiring him were based in fear – an unwarranted and therefore not binding “purchase.” Midian, on the other hand, didn’t fear Israel at all. They were consumed by hatred for Israel, and therefore Bilaam rightly felt he was owed by Midian for his services.

Targum Yonatan combines a lot of information, and puts them all into the mouth of Pinchas who corners Bilaam and is ready to kill him when Bilaam pleads for his life saying “If you let me live, I swear I will never curse your nation again.” Pinchas responds, “Indeed you are [a descendant] of Lavan, and you’ve wanted to destroy Yaakov’s descendants, and you came down to Egypt to do so. And after they left Egypt, you incited Amalek against them, and made the effort to curse us more recently. And when that didn’t work you instructed Balak to have the women of his nation stand at crossroads to entice our men, causing the deaths of 24,000.” [This is related to a tradition that Bilaam either was Lavan or was a descendant of Lavan. This approach even suggests that Bilaam’s leg was smashed against the pile of rocks called Gal-ed, as made in a treaty between Yaakov and Lavan, and his injury was demonstrating that he was violating the oath made between Yaakov and Lavan that neither would cross that line to harm the other.] 

B’chor Shor indicates that he was invited back because even though he felt a failure when he left, the deaths of the 24,000 opened the possibility that his curse would now actually be successful as they were unworthy of the Divine’s protection. This was a serious change from when he had said לא הביט און ביעקב – that he could not find a sin amongst the people of Israel. 

 While not arguing directly, the Baal HaTurim suggests he was brought before Moshe to be executed, and not that Pinchas killed him. 

 Or HaChaim doesn’t chime in on whether he was killed by Pinchas or Moshe (or the court), but claims that Bilaam was killed before the kings of Midian were killed.

Why was he killed? If he was killed in the field of battle, then we can chalk his death up to being a casualty of war. But if he was killed in a different context, as noted by the Targum Yonatan and Baal HaTurim approaches, then his death requires a little more exploration. Sifsei Chachamim notes that the Bnei Yisrael at that time likely would not have known of his antics with Balak, and that they would not have had much of a case against him. However, since he unabashedly was taking credit for causing Israel to sin with the women of Moav (and Midian) his crime was causing Israelites to go against the Torah and, more heinously, deny God’s role in their lives. 

 Interestingly, the Chasam Sofer claims that Bilaam should have been subject to the death by plague, since that was the death that he brought upon Israel (in a middah k’negged middah way). Even though he was asking for monetary compensation, what was coming to him was actually “payback” for what he had caused (death). And yet we are told that he was killed by the sword! He answers that Bilaam was unaware that two other people had died on his account, namely Zimri and Kozbi, and because when a person is subject to two possible death penalties the person is given the more stringent one, just as they died with a רמח (a spear or long blade), Bilaam was killed with a long blade, namely a sword. 

 Netziv says he was judged and killed as a Ben Noach is put to death – with a sword. 

 Malbim raises a number of possibilities as recorded in the Talmud, including that it was Midian, and not Israel, who killed Bilaam, on account of his impertinence in asking for payment for which they felt he was entirely undeserving. He records a view that the death penalty for a Ben Noach is actually Chenek (choking) and that the death penalty as given by a monarch is death by the sword. This argument strengthens the not-by-Jewish-court argument. 

This exercise is not to come to the defense of Bilaam in any way, as his character is beyond any kind of defense, from our perspective. But it demonstrates what either hatred or greed can do for a person, even bring him into the thick of a battlefield where he gets neither credit for his claims or payment for his services, but does lose his life. 

Pirkei Avos teaches us not to be like Bilaam, and to instead be like Avraham. If Bilaam is defined by hatred and greed – and these led to his death – then Avraham stands for love and honesty + magnanimity, not wanting to harm anyone, and not looking to profit off of anyone in any way that is undeserved or that is dishonest.

What is the Bris Shalom?

 

Parshat Pinchas

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 If you do an Internet search for the term “Bris Shalom” or “Brit Shalom” and click on anything that relates to circumcision, you will discover that there are people who offer a “Bris ceremony” for a child that includes “everything but the circumcision.” The argument at hand is that circumcision is an unpleasant experience for a baby, so why not give him all the benefits of the covenant without the most painful part?  [see here, the first time that topic is addressed here]

Readers who take the Covenant in question more seriously understand that a covenant dependent on two parties keeping their parts of the deal is not a covenant if one side doesn’t keep its part of the deal. The Talmud (Shabbos 130a) tells us “All mitzvos which the Jewish people accepted with joy, such as Milah… they still do with joy…. Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says, ‘Every mitzvah that Jewish people were willing to give their lives for in a time of tyrannical oppression, such as [not submitting to] idolatry and performing circumcision, is still strongly established in their hands.’” 

All that having been said, the term “Bris Shalom” appears as a reward given to Pinchas after his killing Zimri and Kozbi, as his act of zealotry seems to be given a Divine stamp of approval, not only in his stopping the plague from the end of Parshas Balak, but in his personal life going forward. 

 Many interpret the word Shalom to mean peace in this context, but Haktav V'hakabbalah says the Covenant of Shalom refers to the word שלם - a completeness. Pinchas was now, as a Kohen, able to achieve a spiritual completeness that had previously been unavailable to him.

Last year, I shared this summary of how some of the commentaries explain this kind of covenant: 

The Bris Shalom: That he would live a long time (possibly forever) [Targum Yonatan, Seforno]; that he is untouchable, that no one could hurt him – especially the relatives of Zimri and the relatives of Kozbi [Midrash Aggadah, Rashi, Ibn Ezra, B’chor Shor, Chizkuni, Daas Zekenim]; that he is now complete as a Kohen, a status that he didn’t have earlier [Daas Zekenim, R’ Chaim Paltiel]; that he wouldn’t lose his Kehunah on account of killing someone [Chizkuni, Riv”a]. [Please note that each of these can use an expansion of explanation, but in the interest of time and limiting the length of this we will just leave those summaries for now.] 

Rav Hirsch builds the case that 

“The formation of the most complete harmony of all the conditions on earth, among one another and with God, is a Bris (covenant) and it is an absolute promise of God; God aims to bring about the realization of His promise, and the world can rest assured that ultimately it will be realized.” 

“The realization of the supreme harmony of peace is entrusted by God precisely to that spirit and to that activism which thoughtless people like to brand and condemn as ‘disturbances of the peace.’ Peace is a precious thing for which one is obligated to sacrifice everything, all of one’s own rights and possessions, but one may never sacrifice for it what God has declared to be good and true. There can be true peace among men only if they all are at peace with God. One who dares to struggle against the enemies of what is good and true in the eyes of God is – by this very struggle – one of the fighters for the Bris Shalom on earth. Conversely, one who, for the sake of what he imagines to be peace with his fellow men, cedes the field without protest and allows them to stir up strife with God makes common cause – by his very love of peace with the enemies of the Bris Shalom on earth. What saved the people was not the apathy of the masses, nor even the tears of sorrow shed by those who stood idly at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. It was the brave act of Pinchas that saved the people and restored to them peace with God and His Law, thereby restoring the basis for true peace.” 

Referencing the covenant of Shalom, Rabbi Yitzchak Arama (in his Aqedat Yitzchak) suggests along similar lines to Hirsch’s conclusion that it represents "the true wholeness of the saintly personality, people who preserve the divine image with which they have been equipped, in the perfect manner." 

 Nachshoni quotes an idea from Kosnos Or based on a passage in Kiddushin which suggests that the word שלום should be understood as שלים which means complete. This argument can get at least some traction because of the way the letter ו appears in a Torah scroll. In fact, many note that the ו in the word שלום has a break in it – it is called a ו' קטיעא, a split Vov. 

Hirsch argues that the covenant of Pinchas is שלום restored to its completeness. Where the zeal of Pinchas is required, the peace has been broken. Pinchas’ struggle is aimed at restoring true peace; he fights so that the שלום can be שלם (complete). 

 Other reasons given for the broken Vov is to indicate that a Kohen who has a blemish may not serve as a Kohen, and that the ו is broken here because it was taken from the name Eliyahu אליהו who is the reincarnation of Pinchas, whose name appears famously as אליה 5 times. In the Igra D’kala, R Zvi Elimelech of Dinov suggests that a similar thought can be ascribed to Yaakov who is sometimes written as יעקוב (instead of the usual יעקב) as if to suggest that יעקב has taken the Vov from somewhere. In reality though, a broken Vov looks like a Vov and a Yud! Yaakov’s job is to take both of those from Eisav (עשו), whose name means completely made (because he was developed and had hair), which would have (or should have) been spelled out עשוי. The Yud went to Yaakov (whose name should have been עקב because he was holding onto the עקב (heel) when he was born, leaving עשו. And the Vov, when taken, would destroy the enemy of peace forever leaving עש (which has no meaning for our purposes (though in modern Hebrew it means 'moth')). 

Pinchas is viewed as a defender of the Covenant, and is mentioned in the ceremony component at every Bris Milah. His defense of the Covenant was partially because Zimri was misusing the mark of the Covenant in his own flesh, but also because the abandonment of the Covenant by the people at the time, through their worship of Baal Pe’or, was something Pinchas could not stand idly by watching, letting it go unchecked. Our continuing to perform our side of the Covenant through circumcision is our way of saying, we don’t care what the world thinks, we value our Covenant and our relationship with God, just as Pinchas didn’t care what anyone thought in the moment he took to stop the plague, even at the cost of the lives of two people, and even endangering himself!

 We should be grateful to live in a time and place in history in which our ability to circumcise goes unchallenged by any ruling authorities. There may be people who are against circumcision, but they do not have power or sway, and their protests thankfully remain protests in their own spaces, with no influence on what we must do. 

 Pinchas’ zealotry for God and for truth is what Rav Hirsch adequately explained, so I leave us with a simple Bracha, that we should be able to stand for truth and goodness when we know with absolute certainty that we are right. And may our stand for truth and goodness be blessed with the coveted outcome – peace in all our ranks and in the world.

Complaining at the End --> A Quick End

Parshat Chukat-Balak 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Once we get through chapter 19 (Parah Adumah), Parshas Chukas becomes a series of relatively quick tales which all seem to take place in the final year in the wilderness – beginning with the deaths of Miriam and Aharon, with the event of mei merivah (when the people complain about the lack of water and Moshe berates them before hitting the rock to bring out water for them), and the various battles which ensue between Canaanites, and the Emorites of Cheshbon and Bashan. 

 Considering that the end of the time in the wilderness presumes that 

a. The Exodus generation has almost completely passed away 

b. Those still around were either under 20 at the time of the Exodus, or born since the Exodus one wonders how the people could come to complain in the following manner: 

 “They journeyed from Mount Hor by way of Yam Suf to go around the land of Edom, and the people became impatient on the way. And so the nation spoke against God and Moshe [saying] ‘Why have you brought us up from Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is not bread, and no water, and our souls loathe this light bread!’ (21:4-5) 

[We can open a can of worms by asking what is meant by Yam Suf, especially if this traveling from Mount Hor is in the aftermath of Aharon’s death at that very mountain. Is this the same Yam Suf of the splitting of the sea? Is it a different place entirely? Is it a different spot on a much larger body of water than we imagine? Is Yam Suf what is now referred to as the “Red Sea” which surrounds the “Sinai Peninsula” on two sides? If it is the same location as the Splitting of the Sea, and considering that Mount Hor is almost certainly in what is modern-day Jordan, does this mean that the Splitting of the Sea was on the Eilat/Aqaba side of the Red Sea, and not on the Egypt side of the Red Sea? And what would that suggest about the location of Mount Sinai – in Sinai peninsula, or in Midian, which is current day Saudi Arabia?]

It seems hard to imagine that “the nation” that is complaining refers to the entire population. After all, those who were ‘brought up from Egypt” are mostly no longer alive. It would be hard for me to thank God (or complain to Him) for having taken me out of Galicia, if 3 of my 4 grandparents were born in the United States to parents who came to the US as children in the early 1900s! Even my American-born grandparents who were never in Galicia would not have issued such a statement!

 And for those who basically grew up in the wilderness, where they have been eating Manna and having water from a well throughout their existence (Alshikh, Kli Yakar, Or HaChaim, RSR Hirsch refer these as spiritual foods which don’t have the calories that travelers might need, and don’t produce waste that humans are used to excreting), this is their “normal” which shouldn’t breed a complaint! How would those born in the wilderness know any different, or that their experience is anything outside of the realm of a normal human experience? 

Or HaChaim notes that the specific concern about the food came about because of their interaction with other nations. As for the complaining of “why did you bring us up from Egypt?” – that only came from those still alive from the Exodus generation who knew they had just a few months to live and no longer had any kind of נחת רוח – peace of mind – in their wilderness story and existence.

Their complaint, therefore, was not as much about the food specifically, and more about the seeming uselessness of their existence. 

Perhaps we can even take this a step further, noting that this complaint triggered a plague in which snakes bit people and a large multitude died. (21:6) 

This is in the aftermath of a recorded plague in Korach, in which 14,700 people died, and before another plague at the end of Parshat Balak in which 24,000 will die. 

Were the people complaining about the manna suicidal? Did they want to end what they viewed as their miserable drawn-out existence, highlighted as being the generation that left Egypt but did NOT make it to the Promised Land? 

It is possible that they saw complaining and challenging God as their ticket to a shortened life, or a life that no longer needed to be drawn out.

This opens up a fascinating perspective to consider. Many of us are familiar with the expression “it beats the alternative.” Anyone who can joke about current realities as “beating the alternative” has what to live for, looks forward to every day, and hopefully is finding meaning in every day.

Most people don’t respond well to complainers, and in fact find complainers to be off-putting. 

Maybe the Torah is telling us here that when people complain about things that – certainly from one perspective – are pretty good, it is a sign that their lives have ceased to have the kind of meaning that it once did. 

We ought not fall into the trap of being people who can only find negative in our experiences. Imagine having water come miraculously. Imagine if we were given our daily bread, just the right amount, it didn’t produce waste, and we didn’t have to worry about grocery bills or toilet paper. 

Maybe the food is the same texture everyday, but it has flexible flavoring and taste! 

Would we complain? 

I hope not. Hopefully we are grateful enough for having been gifted another day, every day.

The Tribe of Levi and Being Leviim

Parshat Korach

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

All the way back to the dispute between Yaakov and Eisav over the birthrite we are introduced by the Rabbis to the idea that being the firstborn was meant to convey upon an individual the right to serve God in some kind of Temple. 

 Our tradition teaches us that the firstborns, who were supposed to come from every tribe, and therefore give each tribe representation in the Mishkan/Mikdash, were removed from this possibility in the aftermath of the sin of the Golden Calf. In retrospect it may have been a good thing, because it made the Priesthood a family affair, in which a tradition could be passed from father to son, versus having random representation in families – and therefore no specific tradition of customs to be handed down from generation to generation.

 In the Torah’s narrative, we find a maximum of 6 Kohanim – Aharon, his 4 sons (two die in Vayikra 10), and Pinchas, who is awarded Kohen-status in the Parsha named for him, and eventually succeeds his father as Kohen Gadol.

 Otherwise, the focus on who works in any capacity in the Mishkan specifically is on the Levi’im, members and descendants of the tribe of Levi. There is an interesting debate on the phrase שבט אביך (18:2) to whether Aharon is tasked with having his cousins from Gershon and Merari (Midrash Aggadah) or just the family of Amram (Targum Yonatan) to serve in the capacity as described in this  verse. The “Amram” perspective would be troubling because as best we know, only Moshe and Aharon were Amram’s sons, which would therefore be quite limiting to Aharon’s family – who are already Kohanim – and Moshe’s family, who have basically disappeared from the Torah’s narrative. However, it is likely that Targum Yonatan meant “just as Amram was known to be of the tribe of Levi, include all who are known to be from the tribe of Levi.”

 

Of course, the name Levi comes from the word Leah used when naming her third son, as she declared

הפעם ילוה אשי אלי, now my husband will be forced to accompany me. Perhaps on the simplest level, now with three children (the oldest being 2 years old!), she could at most hold onto two of them when going places, and needs a second set of hands to help with a third child.

The point is that the name לוי means to accompany. When we see the instruction given for the tribe of Levi, in the role they will be taking to their task in the Mishkan, being worded this way (in Chapter 18):

(ב) וְגַ֣ם אֶת־אַחֶיךָ֩ מַטֵּ֨ה לֵוִ֜י שֵׁ֤בֶט אָבִ֙יךָ֙ הַקְרֵ֣ב אִתָּ֔ךְ וְיִלָּו֥וּ עָלֶ֖יךָ וִֽישָׁרְת֑וּךָ וְאַתָּה֙ וּבָנֶ֣יךָ אִתָּ֔ךְ לִפְנֵ֖י אֹ֥הֶל הָעֵדֻֽת:

(ד) וְנִלְו֣וּ עָלֶ֔יךָ וְשָֽׁמְר֗וּ אֶת־מִשְׁמֶ֙רֶת֙ אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֔ד לְכֹ֖ל עֲבֹדַ֣ת הָאֹ֑הֶל וְזָ֖ר לֹא־יִקְרַ֥ב אֲלֵיכֶֽם: 

... one wonders if they were called לויים because they were from the tribe of Levi, or if they were called לויים because their role is to accompany and assist the Kohanim and the service of the Mishkan. Just about every commentary defines the word וילוו as either “attaching” or “combining” or “partnering” or “assisting.” Ibn Ezra says נלוים, which means accompanying. 

 One could argue that if their job determines their title, they should have been called מלווים (pronounced m’lavim) instead of לויים. Ergo, the fact that they are the tribe of Levi is coincidental to the idea that they assist the Kohanim.

 R Shimshon Refael Hirsch notes that the Leviim have many tasks, as auxiliaries and subordinates to the kohanim, so this specific one which is attached to the word וילוו  (many commentaries define the task in question as a “guard duty” for the Mikdash) is not indicative that they are called לויים specifically and exclusively because of their job.

 Back in Bamidbar 3:7-8, Hirsch notes that the jobs of the Kohanim and Leviim is to represent the national community, as the Torah was given and entrusted to the whole community.

They stand ready to do their assigned task in the name of the nation and on behalf of the nation. In their case, guarding the Torah is the foremost duty of the Torah’s keepers. “Hence, for its own good and to fulfill its duty, the nation sends the Leviim to their watch, to guard the Dwelling Place of the Testimony of the Torah against the nation as a whole and against each of its individual members.”

 At the same time, Hirsch also writes “The לויים are commissioned by the כהן and by the entire community to perform the service of the Dwelling Place, לעבד את עבודת המשכן. They serve in the Dwelling Place on behalf of Aharon and on behalf of the entire community.”

While we could explore what every commentary has to say, or whether a similar question was ever raised and asked, I would suggest that while the name לויים is coincidental in its similarity to the task of serving the Kohanim, it happens to work to the advantage of the בני לוי that כשמם כן הם – their life task happens to be defined by their title (see Ibn Ezra quoted above). 

In a parsha that focuses quite heavily on the roles of the Leviim – whether those trying to follow in the footsteps of Korach, or in demonstrating through Aharon’s stick test that the tribe of Levi was chosen for a unique role within the community, or in chapter 18 which focuses on ALL of the tribe of Levi – the Kohanim and the Leviim! – there is a subtle reminder that our given name may simply be, on the one hand, our given name, which has little meaning to us. On the other hand, there is an understanding that names help define us as well. 

In the case of the Leviim, their names charged them with the responsibility of being those who served the people in the Mishkan, whether as guards, as singers, or some other task. Those who took their name and charge most seriously helped define how extraordinary a life in the service of God could be.

A Sure Sign of Hatred and a Challenge (for some) to Overcome

Parshat Shlach 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Rashi quotes a Midrash that when Kalev was trying to rally the Bnei Yisrael to his perspective on the chances the nation had to conquer the land under Moshe’s leadership, he started by saying, “Is this the only thing the ‘son of Amram’ did to us?” Referring to Moshe in this way, indicating that grievances would follow, he hoped to get the masses to listen. It was a ploy of denigration to people who were looking to be critical, so he could sneak in his counter-approach which continued with “He split the sea for us! He brought us the manna! He caused the quail to be brought to us!” 

This deliberate effort to refer to Moshe not by name, but by his “son of Amram” identity, was meant to grab their attention so he could challenge the negative report of the spies. 

 Rabbi Baruch HaLevi Epstein uses a comment of Rashi on Tehilim 4:3 where David is addressing his enemies wondering how long they will continue to refer to him as “the son of Yishai,” as if he doesn’t have his own name. David is essentially arguing that those who refer to someone only utilizing the person’s father’s name is denigrating the individual, as if the individual has no personal identity. '

This certainly happened when Shaul had his own issues with David, when he asked his son Yonatan [in the Haftorah of Erev Rosh Chodesh] “Why didn’t the son of Yishai come to the meal?” (Shmuel I 20:27), while Yonatan, David’s close friend, responds by referring to his friend by name “David was called away to Beit Lechem.” 

Ironically, Shaul was also a victim of this when he prophesied around the time he was first appointed king – those who knew him were unimpressed when they said “See what’s going on with the son of Kish?!” (Shmuel I 10:11)

The Talmud gives us two examples of this kind of conduct. Brachos 10a describes how King Chizkiyahu called the prophet Yeshayahu “ben Amotz” when he was upset with Yeshayahu’s prophesies, thereby leaving out his first name. In Sanhedrin 82a we are told of how Zimri challenged Moshe by referring to him as “ben Amram.” Moshe is similarly referred to this way in several places in the Midrash, when people are being critical of him as a leader, or suspecting him of gaining financially from skimming off the top of the Mishkan donations.

Seeing this presentation I was reminded of this dvar Torah I had seen in the book “Maayana Shel Torah” in the name of “one of the Gedolei Yisrael” (image below), that when someone hates someone else, he does not refer to the person by his name. The Shaul example – when he referred to David as “ben Yishai” is given as the first example. The ‘vort’ is presented in the context of Parshat Vayeshev, when Yosef’s brothers present his torn coat to their father saying, “Is this your son’s coat?” rather than saying, “Is this Yosef’s coat?” Yaakov was able to discern the depth of their hatred for their brother, as he noted that an animal had consumed him (for a number of the brothers are compared to animals), and when Yaakov said “Yosef has been torn apart” he was saying “the name Yosef has been torn from their mouths [as they are unable to articulate it with their mouths].”

Rabbi Epstein argues that Kalev knew full-well that referring to Moshe as “ben Amram” would get the people’s attention because that was the way they referred to him when they wanted to speak negatively of him.

Of course, his goal in getting their attention was to recall all the positive things the people had experienced under Moshe’s leadership, and to suggest that a person who had done all of that would surely be steering us correctly, under God’s watchful eye, to bring us to the Promised Land. 

 Hatred consumes. We live in a society in which people are often triggered by talking point ideas, and sometimes don’t even know why they hold the opinion they hold. When challenged, those who have not thought through their positions may find themselves stuck without an answer, or may simply prefer to walk away from a conversation. In some areas of society, the end of the conversation is accompanied by a name-calling or even a slur, in order to indicate that “your humanity is meaningless to me so I will not even indulge you through engaging in this conversation any further.” At least Moshe, David and Yeshayahu were referred to as “son of (their father’s name)” – which leaves out their own identity, but isn’t a name-calling insult! 

It’s the “ben Amram” syndrome of knocking a person down in order to put oneself up, rather than having respectful dialogue, from which hopefully both parties can grow, or at the very least come to a mutual understanding of one another.

Once parties can engage in such a respectful conversation, both sides must be able to see through the worldview of the other to find the human being that is deserving of respect and a place at the table. If there is any litmus test that prevents an otherwise decent person from being present at the table, we are missing the point of what it means to be a human being in God’s world.

Let us always see the humanity of the other first, even when we disagree. And may we erase any barriers to entry that prevent any of our fellow Jews from having a seat at the table and a role in any dialogue.

Yisro’s Role in Training Functional Jews

Parshat Beha’alotkha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

For the second time in the Torah, we see Moshe Rabbenu having a conversation with his father in law that seems focused on what is in the best interest of Moshe’s flock, the people of Israel. 

The first recorded conversation was in Parshas Yisro, in Shmos chapter 18, when father-in-law watched son-in-law sitting all day long judging the people alone. The infamous words of a father-in-law, “What you are doing is no good,” led to the establishment of a tier system of judges, which removed the overburden from Moshe, and put him in the position of handling the most difficult cases. 

The second recorded conversation takes place at the end of chapter 10 in our parsha when Moshe turns to חבב בן רעואל חתן משה - “Hovav ben Reuel” his father in law, and tells him “We are traveling to the land of which God said ‘I am giving it to you,’ so travel with us and we will share goodness with you, for God has spoken well of Israel.” The response is “I am going home…” to which Moshe says, “Please don’t leave us! You will best know our encampments in the wilderness and you will be our eyes! When you go with us, it will be that we will share with you the good which God bestows upon us.” 

[While a conversation/dissection can certainly be held over the change of names associated with Moshe’s father-in-law, for the purposes of relative brevity and ease, that concern will be ignored for now, and we will simply call the man Yisro.] 

The Torah does not make clear what Yisro chose to do. Some commentaries link the two tales, suggesting they took place at the same time, and that Yisro’s departure then (Shmos 18:27) reflects his general departure: “And Moshe sent his father-in-law, and he returned to his land.” 

I wonder, though, what Moshe was really asking him. Two verses later we are told that the Ark traveled before the people at a distance of a 3-day journey. Clearly the Ark was leading the way. Earlier in the parsha, we were told in quite certain terms that the cloud of God would determine when the people would set up camp and when they would pack up the camp to continue the journey, whether after a long stay or even very short stays. God is giving several indicators that the encampments will be determined by Him, and there is no need for human intervention. So what role does Moshe have in mind for his father-in-law, if not to be the “Guide”?

Netziv suggests that Moshe was asking for Yisro to be a teacher for the people in the ways of the world. “There will be times in the wilderness when we will need to procure for the needs of people from the nations that are near us.” In other words, we will have physical needs, whether for products, or to learn how to function in a normal realm, beyond that which is being provided for us by the Almighty, and we will need help in communicating with those nations. “You will be our eyes” in the sense of alerting us to local custom and introducing us to whichever nation and people we encounter.

This service which you will provide for us is one for which we will gratefully compensate you when we inherit the land God has promised to us. 

This approach suggests that a. there was no indication that the people would be in the land within three days (despite what 10:33 might indicate would have been an ideal), and b. their time in the wilderness would not be dedicated purely and solely to spiritual pursuits, such as exclusively studying the Torah.

In his commentary on the events of Marah, Rav Kasher quotes Ramban, who explains Moshe needed to give the people basic instructions for how to survive in the wilderness. He had to teach them how to call out to God when hungry or thirsty (which is great introduction to how Netziv explains the Mei Merivah story of Bamidbar chapter 20), without resorting to complaining. They should learn to love their neighbors and to follow the advice of the elders. They should engage peacefully with neighbors who come from outside the Israelite camp, to engage in commerce. Moshe aimed to guide them in ethical behavior lectures to avoid being like other traveling bands who engage in every abomination, and to be above such base desires. He concludes quoting an opinion that Moshe had to teach them the ways of the wilderness – how to take best care of your wife, your children, how to engage with wanderers who want to buy or sell from you.

 This perspective, even before Yisro showed up in the Torah’s chronology (that was Shemos 15:25 and Yisro arrived in Shemos 18) supports both the idea that this kind of non-slave-now-free-living was on Moshe’s mind, and that Yisro could be a great mentor for everyone in terms of how to navigate their newfound freedom and living in the real world.

This was ALWAYS the Torah’s ideal – for people to engage on the one hand in pursuing their relationship with God, but also, and always at the same time, pursuing advancement in navigating the realities of existing with other people, and engaging in business and other forms of commerce with other nations.

Moshe was simply trying to outsource a mentorship role to someone who had significant experience in that world. Especially if Moshe was to be Moshe Rabbenu, with his role focused more on spiritual growth, aside from the many issues which may come up ala Shemos 18 and his judging the people, then perhaps he was hoping to remain the Judaic Studies Coordinator while hiring Yisro to be the General Studies Coordinator. 

 While we should never focus so much on our general knowledge to the exclusion of Torah knowledge (or vice versa!) it is extremely important to have that well rounded education in both areas, to be able to function as the best Jew each of us can be, while also navigating the challenges which accompany being a successful human being in the game of life. Particularly in this increasingly complicated world, with all the innovation that continues to happen so quickly, and all the overwhelming noise which comes our way from every direction, our tool box can’t afford to get rusty as we are always meant to be growing in our knowledge and “life skillset” to represent all God, and subsequently Moshe, hoped for us to be able to take in and process to be the most functional AND God-fearing we could become.