by Rabbi Avi Billet
The Haftorah of Chazon, the opening chapter of Yeshayahu includes a message from God which is very hard to understand.
Of what use are your many sacrifices to Me? says the Lord. I am sated with the burnt-offerings of rams and the fat of fattened cattle; and the blood of bulls and sheep and hegoats I do not want. You shall no longer bring vain meal-offerings, it is smoke of abomination to Me; New Moons and Sabbaths… Your New Moons and your appointed seasons My soul hates, they are a burden to Me; I am weary of bearing [them]. And when you spread out your hands, I will hide My eyes from you, even when you pray at length, I do not hear; your hands are full of blood. Wash, cleanse yourselves, remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes, cease to do evil. Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the robbed, perform justice for the orphan, plead the case of the widow. (Yeshayahu 1:12-17)
What does he mean? God doesn’t like sacrifices, or Rosh Chodesh, or Shabbos or holidays?
Radak (Rabbi David Kimchi) explains that what bothered the Almighty about the sacrifices is that they were being brought on Bamot – an unsanctioned form of service – whether to God, or especially in the form of Avodah Zara to a “different” god, and then the people would turn around and bring Korbanot at the Beit Hamikdash on Rosh Chodesh and holidays.
You can’t be unfaithful to a spouse and still profess your love to that same spouse! The same is true for one’s relationship with God. God's response to this contradictory behavior is, “I don’t need your gifts and apologies when you have completely disavowed our relationship. You’re certainly not fooling Me!”
Abravanel quotes a Midrash Tanchuma on Parshat Pinchas, in which Rabbi Akiva is asked by a non-Jew, “Why do you keep your holidays? Doesn’t God say here (in Yeshayahu 1) that he hates your Rosh Chodeshes and your Moadim?” Rabbi Akiva replied, “I’d agree with you if it said ‘I hate My Rosh Chodeshes and My Holidays! But God says its “your” Rosh Chodeshes and holidays that I despise. In the Torah God describes them as, “These are My holidays!” (אלה הם מועדי) Therefore the despised Rosh Chodeshes and holidays were holidays made up by Yerovam ben Nevat, to serve other entities."
In other words, these despised celebrations were not sanctioned, and were demonstrative of a people who were not following God’s ways. “When you come to appear before Me, who requested this of you, to trample My courts?” (1:12)
Yeshayahu noted how people were viewing the Mikdash as a curiosity, something to look at, an ancient relic of a different age. Maybe they saw it as something to do because it’s cool to say “This is something my ancestors did.”
Yeshayahu was conveying that ritual alone doesn’t cut it.
We can’t just show up seasonally and think that’s enough.
We can’t ignore the plight of the needy and destitute and lonely, and assume we’re doing fine in God’s eyes.
On “Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the robbed, perform justice for the orphan, plead the case of the widow” (1:17), Abravanel writes that doing good and seeking justice means actively looking to do good for others. "Not hurting people" is the opposite of this because not hurting people does nothing for them.
He quotes the Ibn Ezra who says that first of the words we’ve translated as “strengthen the robbed,” “Ishru Chamotz” (אשרו חמוץ) comes from the word Yashar, to do right for the robbed. Straighten things out – make things “yashar” for the person. Abravanel supports this view from the way Leah names Zilpah’s son Asher, “Because of my good fortune, for women have declared me fortunate" (באשרי כי אשרוני בנות)
Regarding the “soured person” (another translation of חמוץ) who is a victim of theft, others should “make it right.” And since the widow and orphan don’t typically have an advocate on their behalf, they are mentioned specifically as people for whom we must perform justice and plead on their behalf.
So let us remember that the holidays and Rosh Chodeshes we observe are God’s.
Let us remembers that we don’t only show up for proper holidays and Rosh Chodeshes, but that we try to make our attendance at shul more consistent.
Let us remember that lip service is not service. Tradition is wonderful, but it should be meaningful. If after a lifetime of davening with intent to catch a train a person does not know how to pray slowly and deliberately, what a missed opportunity. Unlike those who were chastised by Yeshayahu for bringing meaningless offerings, our offerings, which come in the form of our tefillah, must be meaningful. It means we have to understand what we are saying. And we must be sincere.
At the same time, the prophet says, even more important than how we serve God is how we relate to our fellow man. Especially those who need our help.
We have a lot more going for us if we treat our fellow man with kindness.
But if a Jew is square with the Almighty and is a disgusting human being towards other people, there’s really not much to say. By the way, our rules don’t say to only look out for the Jewish widow and orphan. Loving your fellow neighbor means to be kind to all good people. There might officially be an instruction to be more favorable towards your Jewish brother or sister, but there is also an official position about being kind to all decent people.
The prophet reminds us how we are to relate to the orphan and widow because sometimes we forget people who are literally alone, and some people who are perhaps socially on the outskirts. They may or may not be needy financially, but they can’t be ignored by the community.
And the same holds true for people who are in a similar kind of life situation – alone, socially on the outskirts, etc FOR WHATEVER REASON.
Ahavas Yisrael, the love of a fellow Jew, is supposed to be Ahavas Chinam, without pre-conditions or strings attached. It's a simple attitude or equation. "You’re a Jew. I love you. Even if I don’t know you. Even if I don’t agree with you. Even if we have nothing in common. Even if I don’t like you! I still love you!"
As one image I saw recently said “Love your neighbor even if (s)he is not just like yourself.”
Being just and righteous (last verse of Haftorah) doesn’t mean that everyone is right always. Nor does it mean that some people won’t be disappointed in disputes, or lose court cases. But it means we stand for something which is profound and meaningful. This helps define us collectively, both in terms of each of our personal relationships with God, and in terms of how we relate to others.
It means, for example, that even when there is disagreement, there is respect.
Respect is the key that the prophet asks for – both heavenward and to one’s fellow man. If our people could only respect each other all the time, this exile would end.
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