Parshat Masei
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In the history of mankind, rulers have often had the power over who will live and who will die. In some cases, one's prison sentence might be linked indefinitely to the grudge of the ruling power, and reprieve might come only upon the latter's death.
Much would depend on the nature of the crime of which the individual stood accused, while in many cases, there may not have been a crime committed at all.
The Torah presents a seemingly odd circumstance in which those who were accidental murderers, destined to live out their lives in cities of refuge to avoid avengement from the deceased's relatives, were allowed to emerge from the city upon the death of the High Priest – not the king. The relatives had a free pass, so to speak, to avenge the blood of the deceased, until the death of the High Priest granted clemency and freedom to the accidental murderer. Any relative who carried out personal justice after this point would be considered a deliberate murderer, subject to the laws of murderers, and not avengers.
While the fact that accidental crime was not a politically rebellious act, it would seem that a safe haven or a city of refuge would nonetheless be considered a politically-functioned sanctuary. Maybe it is unfair to suggest that the death of the king would bring about freedom for those taking refuge. But it makes less sense to tie the reprieve to the death of the High Priest! The High Priest position is spiritual and holy. In the classic Rabbinic literature, the High Priest is considered the holiest Jew! How could his death be intertwined with the release or reprieve of the accidental murderer?
The Yerushalmi Yoma 7:3 declares that the death of the High Priest is the Torah's definition of the achievement of atonement for this act of 'accidental murder.' This stands to suggest the High Priest is very connected to the advent of the unfortunate mishaps.
There are a number of classic explanations for this connection.
The Talmud (Makkot 11b) faults the High Priest with not praying that the person's trial return an innocent verdict.
Rashi (Bamidbar 35:25), based on the Sifrei, promotes a contrast between the High Priest's representing God's presence and the lengthening of Israelites' lives on earth, while the murderer (even the accidental one), removes God's presence from Israelites and shortens their days on earth. He, therefore, is not worthy to stand in the presence of the High Priest and must remain in exile until the High Priest passes on. This approach blames the accidental murderer.
Rashi offers a second opinion that puts an element of blame on the High Priest himself. The High Priest was supposed to pray that such unfortunate mishaps not occur during his lifetime. His lack of prayer, or unanswered prayer, is therefore responsible for the death of the victim and the exile of the perpetrator. The end to the chapter will come when the High Priest, himself, dies.
Rabbenu Bachaye follows this sentiment saying the relatives of the deceased might truly blame the High Priest, believing his leadership flaw caused the death of their loved one. As such, the High Priest's death might be a comfort for them, closure if you will, that the real person responsible for their relative's death has received his just desserts. They can now let go of their desire for revenge against the accidental murderer, who was God's unfortunate messenger to bring about the death of the victim.
Either way one looks at it, says Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch, we see that the High Priest shares in the blame for the incident. His prayer should have either prevented the accident in the first place, or should have helped deliver an innocent verdict to the defendant after the fact.
Rabbi Shternbuch says,"This is the job of the righteous [leaders] of Israel. It is their job to advocate for God's compassion to erase the sins of those who err accidentally or out of ignorance, so He may accept their repentance with mercy…"
In this period of the three weeks, let us call upon our leaders to find the compassionate trait
the High Priest was required to hone within himself, so they may be the best advocates for those who sin accidentally or out of ignorance.
In this Age of Information, "lack of access" is no longer a good excuse for ignorance. Leaders are needed to help guide those in seek of the information they need, and those leaders need to be able to relate to people of all colors and stripes, and to present Judaism in way that is relevant and appealing to a techno generation.
The time is ripe for there to be an overabundance of love and reaching out to those who seek a connection to Judaism and our way of life. If our prayers are sincere and our connection to God is real, perhaps we will merit to see the Jewish people live fulfilling lives as Jews, following the Torah as best as they can, with a commitment to God that reaches the heavens.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Revenge... Anything But Sweet
Parshat Matot
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are no words to explain the horrific tragedy that unfolded in Brooklyn last week, only questions.
The positive side of the story is the outpouring of love, concern, and support that a community could exhibit for a child and for his family, in the aftermath of a conclusion noone could anticipate, expect, or face as being the reality.
In light of the story and how it has affected all of is, we can ask a particularly poignant question on a verse in the Torah that seems to go against everything we hold dear.
The war against Midian was a one-time event, pursuant to a very specific nation of moral depravity who had waged a full scale war against the Jewish people, sacrificing their daughters' innocence, along with any moral fabric they may have possessed, to destroy the Israelites from within. Their actions led directly to a plague in which 24,000 Israelites died.
God's instruction was, "Enact revenge against Midian." After killing all the adult males on the battlefield, the soldiers report they've left the women alone, causing Moshe to instruct them thus: "And now, kill every [Midianite] male child and every woman who has lain with a man kill [as well]. The females who have never been with a man can be spared." (Bamidbar 31:17-18)
Could God have truly dictated such a command? Was the Midianite crime so terrible that an all out war to kill even all the male children was necessary?
This is neither the first or last time an entire nation was to be wiped out in the Torah. Amalek is the poster-nation for this concept in the Torah, and wars were waged or declared against them in Shmot 17 and Devarim 25:19, as well as in Shmuel I chapters 15 and 30. Similar rules were enforced in wars waged against the seven nations of the land (Devarim 20:16).
Certainly, God did not spare the children in His destruction of Sodom and in the Flood.
Questioning God's decisions as to how He runs His world is a silly exercise. A God-fearing person recognizes that God may choose who will live and who will die. These are judgment calls He makes on a regular basis. We may not always like it, but that is the way of the world.
But why does He have to put such a possibility into the hands of man? Why did the Israelites need to be the power behind the revenge? Why did God prefer to issue forth this command, rather than enact a plague against Midian to take care of the dirty work, as He did to Egypt? Why did the Israelites need to have the blood on their hands?
Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch argued that the classic rules of engagement did not apply to this irregular war of revenge, a war governed by definition by different rules.
This answer is helpful in a general sense, but it does not answer our question. The halakhic argument of "When one comes to kill you, kill him first" (Brachot 58a), or revenge itself can be justified against the seductive women who brought about the plague. This does not include little boys!
In raising a logical argument Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch also does not answer our question: "We must assume that the national degeneration was rooted primarily in the males, whereas the females – if removed at an early age from impure influences and impressions – were able to attain morality…"
Rabbi Ben Zion Feerer points out the incongruity. If it's all out war, then none of the children should be spared. Why is there a difference between the boys and the girls?
Rabbi Feerer suggests that the fate of the boys is inexorably linked to that of the adult women. Generally speaking, the toll of war is on the men who fight, who, in a sense, are expected not to return. Children grow up, rebuild a nation, and live out the dream their fathers died for.
The Talmud says (Kiddushin 2) that women do not normally go out to war. As their death in battle is not a normal result of war, it is much longer remermbered and carried as a "battle scar" for the rest of a child's days.
In this case, however, since the women's actions instigated the revenge, there was no getting around that they would die in battle. There was therefore a need to rid the nation of the young males, so they would not grow up harboring the hate that would come from having lost their mothers and women in battle. They would have gotten over the deaths of their fathers alone – that is the natural order of warfare. But losing their women would pit them against Israel in a future Hatfield/Mccoy war that serves no purpose to the next generation.
The innocent girls could be spared, on the other hand, because they would not take revenge one day in battle.
It's a sad state of affairs when the actions of the guilty must bring about a punishment to the innocent. But it is reflective of a society that cares more about trying to destroy their enemy than about taking care of their children.
The Israelites needed to carry out the deed so they could afterwards demonstrate and teach that the act of revenge is anything but sweet. This is not something they enjoy doing or want to do (remember, they originally returned from battle having spared all the women!)
With the moral lesson "out there" they could hopefully teach their neighbors to live and let live so that a revenge of this nature might never be necessary again.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are no words to explain the horrific tragedy that unfolded in Brooklyn last week, only questions.
The positive side of the story is the outpouring of love, concern, and support that a community could exhibit for a child and for his family, in the aftermath of a conclusion noone could anticipate, expect, or face as being the reality.
In light of the story and how it has affected all of is, we can ask a particularly poignant question on a verse in the Torah that seems to go against everything we hold dear.
The war against Midian was a one-time event, pursuant to a very specific nation of moral depravity who had waged a full scale war against the Jewish people, sacrificing their daughters' innocence, along with any moral fabric they may have possessed, to destroy the Israelites from within. Their actions led directly to a plague in which 24,000 Israelites died.
God's instruction was, "Enact revenge against Midian." After killing all the adult males on the battlefield, the soldiers report they've left the women alone, causing Moshe to instruct them thus: "And now, kill every [Midianite] male child and every woman who has lain with a man kill [as well]. The females who have never been with a man can be spared." (Bamidbar 31:17-18)
Could God have truly dictated such a command? Was the Midianite crime so terrible that an all out war to kill even all the male children was necessary?
This is neither the first or last time an entire nation was to be wiped out in the Torah. Amalek is the poster-nation for this concept in the Torah, and wars were waged or declared against them in Shmot 17 and Devarim 25:19, as well as in Shmuel I chapters 15 and 30. Similar rules were enforced in wars waged against the seven nations of the land (Devarim 20:16).
Certainly, God did not spare the children in His destruction of Sodom and in the Flood.
Questioning God's decisions as to how He runs His world is a silly exercise. A God-fearing person recognizes that God may choose who will live and who will die. These are judgment calls He makes on a regular basis. We may not always like it, but that is the way of the world.
But why does He have to put such a possibility into the hands of man? Why did the Israelites need to be the power behind the revenge? Why did God prefer to issue forth this command, rather than enact a plague against Midian to take care of the dirty work, as He did to Egypt? Why did the Israelites need to have the blood on their hands?
Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch argued that the classic rules of engagement did not apply to this irregular war of revenge, a war governed by definition by different rules.
This answer is helpful in a general sense, but it does not answer our question. The halakhic argument of "When one comes to kill you, kill him first" (Brachot 58a), or revenge itself can be justified against the seductive women who brought about the plague. This does not include little boys!
In raising a logical argument Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch also does not answer our question: "We must assume that the national degeneration was rooted primarily in the males, whereas the females – if removed at an early age from impure influences and impressions – were able to attain morality…"
Rabbi Ben Zion Feerer points out the incongruity. If it's all out war, then none of the children should be spared. Why is there a difference between the boys and the girls?
Rabbi Feerer suggests that the fate of the boys is inexorably linked to that of the adult women. Generally speaking, the toll of war is on the men who fight, who, in a sense, are expected not to return. Children grow up, rebuild a nation, and live out the dream their fathers died for.
The Talmud says (Kiddushin 2) that women do not normally go out to war. As their death in battle is not a normal result of war, it is much longer remermbered and carried as a "battle scar" for the rest of a child's days.
In this case, however, since the women's actions instigated the revenge, there was no getting around that they would die in battle. There was therefore a need to rid the nation of the young males, so they would not grow up harboring the hate that would come from having lost their mothers and women in battle. They would have gotten over the deaths of their fathers alone – that is the natural order of warfare. But losing their women would pit them against Israel in a future Hatfield/Mccoy war that serves no purpose to the next generation.
The innocent girls could be spared, on the other hand, because they would not take revenge one day in battle.
It's a sad state of affairs when the actions of the guilty must bring about a punishment to the innocent. But it is reflective of a society that cares more about trying to destroy their enemy than about taking care of their children.
The Israelites needed to carry out the deed so they could afterwards demonstrate and teach that the act of revenge is anything but sweet. This is not something they enjoy doing or want to do (remember, they originally returned from battle having spared all the women!)
With the moral lesson "out there" they could hopefully teach their neighbors to live and let live so that a revenge of this nature might never be necessary again.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Man Plans...
Parshat Pinchas
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Before its exposition of the holidays and their respective sacrificial offerings, the Torah gives us its only reversal of the most repeated verse in the Torah. Normally it says "And God spoke to Moshe saying." Here it says "And Moshe spoke to God saying."
Moshe's instruction to God centered around his concern that with his own passing, the people would be left without a leader – like a flock without a shepherd. Understandably, after seeing his brother die, his nephew Elazar fill the vacant shoes, and now his great-nephew Pinchas slated to be the next inline for the High Priest position, Moshe wants to see that the next person is ready to take on the leadership role to complete the project he started: to bring the people to the Promised Land.
In all the pomp and ceremony, perhaps the most significant element of Yehoshua's new appointment is his being put into a position in which he will direct questions to the Urim V'tumim, the divinely controlled mechanism in Elazar the High Priest's breastplate that provides a direct line of communication with the Divine.
It becomes the ultimate lesson in irony.
The Talmud (Eruvin 63a) points out that this connection was never utilized. Both Yehoshua and Elazar were punished, in a sense, for speaking out of turn in the presence of Moshe. Yehoshua instructed Moshe to put Eldad and Meidad in jail (Bamidbar 11:28), and Elazar taught everyone the laws of kashering metals in the aftermath of the Midian war (Bamidbar 31:21-24). Yehoshua's punishment was that he never had children, and Elazar's punishment was that Yehoshua never needed him.
To be fair, the Midrash Aggadah suggests that Yehoshua never needing Elazar was more of a reward to Yehoshua, as per the verse in Mishlei 27:18, "He who guards his master shall be honored."
Regardless, the fact is that there was a high anticipation of the new generation of leadership sharing an incredible professional relationship. Aharon and Moshe worked well together because they were brothers and because their personalities complemented one another in many respects.
Would Yehoshua and Elazar have a similar rapport? We never find out.
There's an old Yiddish saying (some claim German origins) that "A mentsh tracht und Gott lacht - Man plans and God laughs." [On the internet, I found some people ascribing its origins to Tehillim 33:10 and Mishlei 16:9]
Perhaps we can suggest that even Moshe, in a sense, spoke out of turn to God. For all of Moshe's plans, even Yehoshua did not leave a successor. In this regard maybe the anarchy of the book of Shoftim is partly attributable to Yehoshua's poor leadership choice.
In the end, our charge is to do our best, in as humble a manner and in as God-fearing a manner as we can. Success, wealth, employment, our ability to accomplish and fulfill our dreams are all in the hands of God.
But God puts them in our hands when we do our part to make it happen, and when He feels, at this stage, that we are deserving. But we must be doing something if God is going to help us fulfill our goals.
A classic Jewish joke has Mendel praying to God to help him win the lottery. After months and months and no winning, Mendel comes to the Western Wall and screams at God, "After all I've done for You! After all the sacrifices and promises!"
All of a sudden, the heavens open and God's voice communicates directly with Mendel, "Mendel you are my most beloved. But for heaven's sake – buy a ticket!"
We may be most deserving. But nothing's going to happen just because we are good people. Very few are so lucky.
And for those who are in the trenches, sometimes we walk on a thin line between getting exactly what we want, and becoming destined to never reach that which should have otherwise been our absolute potential.
The words of Micha (6:8) in last week's haftorah say it best. "He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk discreetly/humbly with your God."
With this as our formula for achieving Godliness, hopefully we can be blessed to find our calling in life.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Before its exposition of the holidays and their respective sacrificial offerings, the Torah gives us its only reversal of the most repeated verse in the Torah. Normally it says "And God spoke to Moshe saying." Here it says "And Moshe spoke to God saying."
Moshe's instruction to God centered around his concern that with his own passing, the people would be left without a leader – like a flock without a shepherd. Understandably, after seeing his brother die, his nephew Elazar fill the vacant shoes, and now his great-nephew Pinchas slated to be the next inline for the High Priest position, Moshe wants to see that the next person is ready to take on the leadership role to complete the project he started: to bring the people to the Promised Land.
In all the pomp and ceremony, perhaps the most significant element of Yehoshua's new appointment is his being put into a position in which he will direct questions to the Urim V'tumim, the divinely controlled mechanism in Elazar the High Priest's breastplate that provides a direct line of communication with the Divine.
It becomes the ultimate lesson in irony.
The Talmud (Eruvin 63a) points out that this connection was never utilized. Both Yehoshua and Elazar were punished, in a sense, for speaking out of turn in the presence of Moshe. Yehoshua instructed Moshe to put Eldad and Meidad in jail (Bamidbar 11:28), and Elazar taught everyone the laws of kashering metals in the aftermath of the Midian war (Bamidbar 31:21-24). Yehoshua's punishment was that he never had children, and Elazar's punishment was that Yehoshua never needed him.
To be fair, the Midrash Aggadah suggests that Yehoshua never needing Elazar was more of a reward to Yehoshua, as per the verse in Mishlei 27:18, "He who guards his master shall be honored."
Regardless, the fact is that there was a high anticipation of the new generation of leadership sharing an incredible professional relationship. Aharon and Moshe worked well together because they were brothers and because their personalities complemented one another in many respects.
Would Yehoshua and Elazar have a similar rapport? We never find out.
There's an old Yiddish saying (some claim German origins) that "A mentsh tracht und Gott lacht - Man plans and God laughs." [On the internet, I found some people ascribing its origins to Tehillim 33:10 and Mishlei 16:9]
Perhaps we can suggest that even Moshe, in a sense, spoke out of turn to God. For all of Moshe's plans, even Yehoshua did not leave a successor. In this regard maybe the anarchy of the book of Shoftim is partly attributable to Yehoshua's poor leadership choice.
In the end, our charge is to do our best, in as humble a manner and in as God-fearing a manner as we can. Success, wealth, employment, our ability to accomplish and fulfill our dreams are all in the hands of God.
But God puts them in our hands when we do our part to make it happen, and when He feels, at this stage, that we are deserving. But we must be doing something if God is going to help us fulfill our goals.
A classic Jewish joke has Mendel praying to God to help him win the lottery. After months and months and no winning, Mendel comes to the Western Wall and screams at God, "After all I've done for You! After all the sacrifices and promises!"
All of a sudden, the heavens open and God's voice communicates directly with Mendel, "Mendel you are my most beloved. But for heaven's sake – buy a ticket!"
We may be most deserving. But nothing's going to happen just because we are good people. Very few are so lucky.
And for those who are in the trenches, sometimes we walk on a thin line between getting exactly what we want, and becoming destined to never reach that which should have otherwise been our absolute potential.
The words of Micha (6:8) in last week's haftorah say it best. "He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk discreetly/humbly with your God."
With this as our formula for achieving Godliness, hopefully we can be blessed to find our calling in life.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Relationships "With" Others
[Click here for an audio shiur further analyzing this subject]
Parshat Balak
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Bilaam desperately wants to go with King Balak's men to fulfill what he believes is his destiny to curse the Jewish people. Knowing of his own relationship with God, however, he will not accept the job until he is given permission from God to go. And he makes this quite clear to Balak's first agents.
Yet when God finally does acquiesce, saying, "If the men have called you specifically, go with them with the understanding that you'll only be able to say what I tell you to say" (22:20), why does He then get angry when Bilaam goes? (22:21-22)
The answer lies in a subtlety that is lost in an English translation. God made it very clear to Bilaam that "You will not go 'imahem'" (22:12). However, the permission He grants is to "Go 'itam.'" (22:20)
Two Hebrew words for "with" are "im" (ayin mem) and "et" (alef tav). "Et" has other meanings in the Torah as well, such as to, in, or from, and it most often appears as a grammatical tool connecting a verb to its object, or preceding a noun. According to the Even-Shoshan Concordance, the "et" meaning "with" appears hundreds of times in Tanakh.
Is there a difference between the "with" of "im" and the "with" of "et"?
In the context of Bilaam's assignment, there seems to be a big difference. Bilaam firmly believes that God is "imo" (22:19). Whatever that relationship may be, God instructs him not to have a similar relationship with Balak's emissaries, "Lekh itam ["et" them]." Bilaam seems to ignore this when he goes "im" them – thereby fueling God's anger and causing the angel to stop him on the road. After the entire donkey/ angel incident, however, Bilaam is instructed by the angel to go "im" Balak's officers. (22:35)
What changed?
I think that God assigning to go "et" them implies there will be a distance between the prophet and those hiring him. That Bilaam will only say what God lets him say is understood when the prophet goes in accompaniment because it's a job ("et"), as opposed to because he is putting his heart and soul into the assignment ("im"). While not comparable (because murder is murder), one might suggest a hired assassin who kills for a paycheck versus one who does it because he enjoys the thrill of the kill are not to be judged by others the same way.
In response to the first envoy sent to him, Bilaam was told he could not go and could not curse the people. In 22:12-13, Bilaam only mentioned that he could not go, and left out that he could not curse the people. Similarly, once Bilaam was given permission to go, he never let on to the officers that he was constrained in what he could say. He went "im" them because he wanted, heart and soul, to be with them, and he believed he'd be able to do what he wanted.
Only after the encounter with the angel, when the instruction regarding what he'd be able to say was repeated in stronger terms (22:35), was he able to express to Balak (22:38) that he'd only be able to say what God allows him to say. And this is why he could be given permission to go "im" the emissaries, because now, no matter what his heart and soul will dictate, he understands and makes it understood that he may personally want to do exactly what Balak wants him to do, but he will only be able to do what God allows him to do.
In addressing this question, the Netziv shares his own observations about the differences between going "et" versus going "im." Following on his coattails, perhaps in the specific context of people traveling together, this distinction applies. Those who go "et" others, are walking on the same path, but their minds are in different places. Those who walk "im" others, not only share a physical space but also share a mental and perhaps spiritual state of being.
People who go "et" others (different mindsets) in the Torah include: Terach with his family on the way to Haran; Lot going with Avram on his continued journey to Canaan; Lot immediately before the fight that caused him to separate from Avraham; Avraham with his lads to sacrifice his son. Avimelekh and company, as they depart from Yitzchak after making a treaty; Yaakov and his sons when they went to Egypt (all with different hopes for the future); The Egyptians who came with Yosef to bury Yaakov.
People who go "im" others (same mindset) in the Torah include: Lot going with Avram after the events in Egypt (after seeing God help Avram in a tight situation) [soon after, Lot separates "me'imo" to move to S'dom]; Avraham accompanying the angels on their way to destroy S'dom; Lot and his daughters escaping from S'dom; Eliezer and the servants looking to find a wife for Yitzchak; Rivka's choice to go with Eliezer to be Yitzchak's wife; Yaakov with Lavan (until he is no longer "imo" (Bereishit 31:2); 400 men with Eisav; the brothers of Yosef when they go to bury their father.
It is interesting to note that like Bilaam, Lot is the main figure who jumps back and forth. Perhaps this is because, like Bilaam, he was an opportunist who came close when it was good for him, but distanced himself when things did not work out.
Both kinds of relationships are healthy and normal when they are utilized in the contexts in which they are meant to take place. May we merit to have an equal and consistent balance of "et" and "im" relationships.
Parshat Balak
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Bilaam desperately wants to go with King Balak's men to fulfill what he believes is his destiny to curse the Jewish people. Knowing of his own relationship with God, however, he will not accept the job until he is given permission from God to go. And he makes this quite clear to Balak's first agents.
Yet when God finally does acquiesce, saying, "If the men have called you specifically, go with them with the understanding that you'll only be able to say what I tell you to say" (22:20), why does He then get angry when Bilaam goes? (22:21-22)
The answer lies in a subtlety that is lost in an English translation. God made it very clear to Bilaam that "You will not go 'imahem'" (22:12). However, the permission He grants is to "Go 'itam.'" (22:20)
Two Hebrew words for "with" are "im" (ayin mem) and "et" (alef tav). "Et" has other meanings in the Torah as well, such as to, in, or from, and it most often appears as a grammatical tool connecting a verb to its object, or preceding a noun. According to the Even-Shoshan Concordance, the "et" meaning "with" appears hundreds of times in Tanakh.
Is there a difference between the "with" of "im" and the "with" of "et"?
In the context of Bilaam's assignment, there seems to be a big difference. Bilaam firmly believes that God is "imo" (22:19). Whatever that relationship may be, God instructs him not to have a similar relationship with Balak's emissaries, "Lekh itam ["et" them]." Bilaam seems to ignore this when he goes "im" them – thereby fueling God's anger and causing the angel to stop him on the road. After the entire donkey/ angel incident, however, Bilaam is instructed by the angel to go "im" Balak's officers. (22:35)
What changed?
I think that God assigning to go "et" them implies there will be a distance between the prophet and those hiring him. That Bilaam will only say what God lets him say is understood when the prophet goes in accompaniment because it's a job ("et"), as opposed to because he is putting his heart and soul into the assignment ("im"). While not comparable (because murder is murder), one might suggest a hired assassin who kills for a paycheck versus one who does it because he enjoys the thrill of the kill are not to be judged by others the same way.
In response to the first envoy sent to him, Bilaam was told he could not go and could not curse the people. In 22:12-13, Bilaam only mentioned that he could not go, and left out that he could not curse the people. Similarly, once Bilaam was given permission to go, he never let on to the officers that he was constrained in what he could say. He went "im" them because he wanted, heart and soul, to be with them, and he believed he'd be able to do what he wanted.
Only after the encounter with the angel, when the instruction regarding what he'd be able to say was repeated in stronger terms (22:35), was he able to express to Balak (22:38) that he'd only be able to say what God allows him to say. And this is why he could be given permission to go "im" the emissaries, because now, no matter what his heart and soul will dictate, he understands and makes it understood that he may personally want to do exactly what Balak wants him to do, but he will only be able to do what God allows him to do.
In addressing this question, the Netziv shares his own observations about the differences between going "et" versus going "im." Following on his coattails, perhaps in the specific context of people traveling together, this distinction applies. Those who go "et" others, are walking on the same path, but their minds are in different places. Those who walk "im" others, not only share a physical space but also share a mental and perhaps spiritual state of being.
People who go "et" others (different mindsets) in the Torah include: Terach with his family on the way to Haran; Lot going with Avram on his continued journey to Canaan; Lot immediately before the fight that caused him to separate from Avraham; Avraham with his lads to sacrifice his son. Avimelekh and company, as they depart from Yitzchak after making a treaty; Yaakov and his sons when they went to Egypt (all with different hopes for the future); The Egyptians who came with Yosef to bury Yaakov.
People who go "im" others (same mindset) in the Torah include: Lot going with Avram after the events in Egypt (after seeing God help Avram in a tight situation) [soon after, Lot separates "me'imo" to move to S'dom]; Avraham accompanying the angels on their way to destroy S'dom; Lot and his daughters escaping from S'dom; Eliezer and the servants looking to find a wife for Yitzchak; Rivka's choice to go with Eliezer to be Yitzchak's wife; Yaakov with Lavan (until he is no longer "imo" (Bereishit 31:2); 400 men with Eisav; the brothers of Yosef when they go to bury their father.
It is interesting to note that like Bilaam, Lot is the main figure who jumps back and forth. Perhaps this is because, like Bilaam, he was an opportunist who came close when it was good for him, but distanced himself when things did not work out.
Both kinds of relationships are healthy and normal when they are utilized in the contexts in which they are meant to take place. May we merit to have an equal and consistent balance of "et" and "im" relationships.
Friday, July 1, 2011
A Big Og? UGH!
Parshat Chukat
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In the battles that round out the end of Parshat Chukat, Moshe and the Israelites defeat Sichon and Og, and their respective nations. Before the battle with Og, Moshe is told by God not to fear for "I have given him into your hands." (21:34)
The Torah describes both kings as "giants," though the nature of their actual size is never discussed in the Torah itself. (The size of Og's bed is mentioned in Devarim 3:11, and while oversized, it by no means indicates he was anywhere near the height of a tall tree.) The Talmud (Niddah 64a) further tells us the two kings were brothers, and the rabbis talked about their individual stories, including discussions about how they each merited to achieve the longevity they enjoyed in their lives.
Some accounts indicate they may have been living since the time of the flood (around 800 years – See Rabbenu Bachaye on Bamidbar 21:34) while others say they were living from the time of Avraham (500 years).
The one with greater merits was Og, who is attributed with being the "palit" or refugee from the Sdom war of Bereishit 14, who came to tell Avraham about his nephew Lot's capture. It was the merit of helping Avraham save Lot that caused Moshe to fear Og's infallibility (Niddah 64a).
Moshe did not fear Sichon, so whatever size "giant" he may have been was clearly not a deterrent to facing him in battle. Og's merits, not his size, was the source of Moshe's concern.
The Talmud (Brachot 54b) describes the battle encounter of Moshe against Og. "Og uprooted a mountain of three parasangs and placed it on his head [to cover the Israelite camp with it.] God set grasshoppers upon it, and they burrowed a hole in the mountain and it fell round his neck. He tried to pull it off his head with his teeth but could not… How tall was Moshe? Ten cubits. He grabbed hold of an axe ten cubits long, leaped ten cubits, struck Og in the ankle and killed him."
On a simple literal level, Moshe was no slouch himself. A height of ten cubits would be somewhere between fifteen and twenty feet tall. While such a height is not something we see as likely, it is almost in the realm of the explainable.
At the same time, if Og's ankle was 30 cubits high, we can only imagine how big he was – a few hundred feet tall! He would make King Kong (25 feet) look smaller than a teddy bear in his eyes.
In an article entitled "The biology of King Kong" (Forbes.com, December 2005) the author quotes John Hutchinson, a researcher of large animals, who estimated Kong would weigh anywhere from 20 to 60 tons. He would not be athletic and would barely be able to move, supporting such weight on two legs.
In his book "Sacred Monsters" Rabbi Natan Slifkin indicates a giant of such magnitude (skyscraper height) would weigh in the millions of pounds.
Given that the indicated height of Og as suggested in the Talmud is likely not meant to be taken literally due to the biological improbability, how then are we to understand the Talmud?
Professor Admiel Kosman of Bar Ilan University wrote an article which appeared in "Professors on the Parashah" (Urim Publications) entitled "Was Og Just a Tall Story?" It can also be found online here.
He quotes the Rashba, who explains each image as a metaphor to merits. "The "mountain" that was Og's weapon alludes to the merits of our patriarchs," in his case Avraham, whom he had helped to save his nephew. "The grasshoppers, an allusion to the prayers of the Israelites, caused the merits of this "mountain" to disintegrate… Moses joined in the fray, countering the merits of Og with three other merits: the merits of the patriarchs (ten cubit leap into the past)…; Moses' own personal merits (ten cubits tall); and the merits of the people of Israel as a whole (ten-cubit ax)…. All these formed the weapon that Moses wielded against the merits of Og, and through them Og was ultimately vanquished."
The Maharsha (Brachot 54b) wonders why Moshe would be concerned that the merit of the forefathers would work more strongly for Og than for Moshe himself. He suggests instead that Og carried with him "Kochot HaTumah" (strength of impurity) that could come head to head with Moshe's spiritual powers.
He suggests that the 10-cubit ax represents the merit of the 2 tablets which contained the 10 Commandments. The 10-cubit jump represents the Mishkan which was 10-cubits tall, and had been erected by Moshe all by himself. [Moshe's height could refer to the merit of the ten plagues he had brought about.]
Not everything we read in the Torah and Midrashim is meant to be taken absolutely literally. While some things can be rationalized and explained as a supernatural creation or act of God, not everything must be explained in such a manner.
We are challenged to find satisfactory explanations for the Aggadic tales which are difficult to explain on a simple level. Only when we have sought the depths of Torah and its lessons to the point we are happy with the explanations can we truly say we have fulfilled our obligation of Torah study.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In the battles that round out the end of Parshat Chukat, Moshe and the Israelites defeat Sichon and Og, and their respective nations. Before the battle with Og, Moshe is told by God not to fear for "I have given him into your hands." (21:34)
The Torah describes both kings as "giants," though the nature of their actual size is never discussed in the Torah itself. (The size of Og's bed is mentioned in Devarim 3:11, and while oversized, it by no means indicates he was anywhere near the height of a tall tree.) The Talmud (Niddah 64a) further tells us the two kings were brothers, and the rabbis talked about their individual stories, including discussions about how they each merited to achieve the longevity they enjoyed in their lives.
Some accounts indicate they may have been living since the time of the flood (around 800 years – See Rabbenu Bachaye on Bamidbar 21:34) while others say they were living from the time of Avraham (500 years).
The one with greater merits was Og, who is attributed with being the "palit" or refugee from the Sdom war of Bereishit 14, who came to tell Avraham about his nephew Lot's capture. It was the merit of helping Avraham save Lot that caused Moshe to fear Og's infallibility (Niddah 64a).
Moshe did not fear Sichon, so whatever size "giant" he may have been was clearly not a deterrent to facing him in battle. Og's merits, not his size, was the source of Moshe's concern.
The Talmud (Brachot 54b) describes the battle encounter of Moshe against Og. "Og uprooted a mountain of three parasangs and placed it on his head [to cover the Israelite camp with it.] God set grasshoppers upon it, and they burrowed a hole in the mountain and it fell round his neck. He tried to pull it off his head with his teeth but could not… How tall was Moshe? Ten cubits. He grabbed hold of an axe ten cubits long, leaped ten cubits, struck Og in the ankle and killed him."
On a simple literal level, Moshe was no slouch himself. A height of ten cubits would be somewhere between fifteen and twenty feet tall. While such a height is not something we see as likely, it is almost in the realm of the explainable.
At the same time, if Og's ankle was 30 cubits high, we can only imagine how big he was – a few hundred feet tall! He would make King Kong (25 feet) look smaller than a teddy bear in his eyes.
In an article entitled "The biology of King Kong" (Forbes.com, December 2005) the author quotes John Hutchinson, a researcher of large animals, who estimated Kong would weigh anywhere from 20 to 60 tons. He would not be athletic and would barely be able to move, supporting such weight on two legs.
In his book "Sacred Monsters" Rabbi Natan Slifkin indicates a giant of such magnitude (skyscraper height) would weigh in the millions of pounds.
Given that the indicated height of Og as suggested in the Talmud is likely not meant to be taken literally due to the biological improbability, how then are we to understand the Talmud?
Professor Admiel Kosman of Bar Ilan University wrote an article which appeared in "Professors on the Parashah" (Urim Publications) entitled "Was Og Just a Tall Story?" It can also be found online here.
He quotes the Rashba, who explains each image as a metaphor to merits. "The "mountain" that was Og's weapon alludes to the merits of our patriarchs," in his case Avraham, whom he had helped to save his nephew. "The grasshoppers, an allusion to the prayers of the Israelites, caused the merits of this "mountain" to disintegrate… Moses joined in the fray, countering the merits of Og with three other merits: the merits of the patriarchs (ten cubit leap into the past)…; Moses' own personal merits (ten cubits tall); and the merits of the people of Israel as a whole (ten-cubit ax)…. All these formed the weapon that Moses wielded against the merits of Og, and through them Og was ultimately vanquished."
The Maharsha (Brachot 54b) wonders why Moshe would be concerned that the merit of the forefathers would work more strongly for Og than for Moshe himself. He suggests instead that Og carried with him "Kochot HaTumah" (strength of impurity) that could come head to head with Moshe's spiritual powers.
He suggests that the 10-cubit ax represents the merit of the 2 tablets which contained the 10 Commandments. The 10-cubit jump represents the Mishkan which was 10-cubits tall, and had been erected by Moshe all by himself. [Moshe's height could refer to the merit of the ten plagues he had brought about.]
Not everything we read in the Torah and Midrashim is meant to be taken absolutely literally. While some things can be rationalized and explained as a supernatural creation or act of God, not everything must be explained in such a manner.
We are challenged to find satisfactory explanations for the Aggadic tales which are difficult to explain on a simple level. Only when we have sought the depths of Torah and its lessons to the point we are happy with the explanations can we truly say we have fulfilled our obligation of Torah study.
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