God's Unlimited Abilities

Parshat Tzav 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 Having given all the instructions for the Kohanim, in Chapter 8 we see Moshe being given precise instructions to set the stage for Inauguration Day.

 In one of the most immediate cause and effect episodes in the Torah, Moshe is told to gather the people at the Ohel Moed (Gathering Tent, the Mishkan) in 8:3, and in 8:4, “the community was assembled at the entrance of the Ohel Moed.”

Was the entire community really there to watch Moshe vest his brother and nephews in their priestly vestments (8:6-13)?

Ibn Ezra says the “entire community” refers to the “leaders of the tribes and the elders.” That would be a little over 80 people. The Rosh is of the view that 600,000 people were able to gather in a relatively small space to witness this momentous occasion. And the point, explains Chizkuni (based on the Midrash), is that everyone should learn to conduct themselves in a holy manner with respect to and when relating to the priests.

In support of Ibn Ezra, the Torah Temimah reminds us of the passage in Sanhedrin 2a that a High Priest can only be appointed by the Sanhedrin of 71. And that the term used to describe the community, “Eidah” certainly refers to a Sanhedrin which passes judgments. Thus while leadership must be present, the entire nation need not bother with coming to watch the dressing ceremonies.

Rabbenu Bachaye describes the gathering  in 8:4 as a “miraculous occurrence” and he gives a number of examples where the population that gathered defied all logical explanations, because their reality entered the realm of the supernatural. One example is the 22,000 chariots of angels that were present at Revelation at the bottom of Sinai. Where did they all fit? Other examples include: that when all of Israel crossed the Jordan to enter the land, they walked between the poles of the Ark; during the time of Resurrection when all the good people through the history of the world will return the living, there will be enough room for everyone.

On a purely rational basis, it is hard to understand some of these passages, and even more difficult to explain the physics. Surely, as a believer, I can accept that something did happen or can happen in the future, but it is hard to visualize, even if I believe its possibility is real.

I think looking at this passage from the vantage point of Purim, which was celebrated on Thursday, we can appreciate how truly miraculous events just defy explanation.

We are all familiar with the efficiency of the Nazi killing machine. Yet despite its organization, and the sheer numbers of how at their height, they could be murdering over 10,000 people a day, it still took them over 5 years to kill 6 millions Jews, and they were, thank God, unable to complete their diabolical plans of the destruction of world Jewry.

And Haman, their spiritual ancestor, was hoping to achieve the same goal in one day? How could he even think such a task was possible.

It would seem that owing to his beliefs in his powers, honor, and supernatural abilities, he felt that his lottery showed that his goal was divinely ordained. And he believed that his charm and his charisma would gather enough volunteers and haters to get to every Jew in Achashveirosh’s kingdom in one day.

But the real world doesn’t work like that. In Shushan alone, Esther needed to ask for another day for the Jews to confront their enemies. On the 13th of Adar, 500 Shushanites died, and on the 14th of Adar 300 more Shushanites died in the skirmishes. Relatively small numbers, it would seem.

And therein lies the difference between the plans of the man and the works of God. Man can only achieve what is humanly possible. God – using man, when He wants it to be such – can achieve things that go beyond reason and viable explanation.

Will there be peace in the Land of Israel? Will the Arabs stop hating the Jewish people? Will anti-Semitism ever end? Will the Messiah come – when so many Jews in the world do not live a life of Torah, do not observe the Sabbath, and in some cases, don’t even know what it means to be a Jew, or that they are even Jewish? In the realm of human achievement and possibility, all of these are far-fetched possibilities. But in the realm of God, they are attainable.

Of course from Ibn Ezra’s and the Torah Temimah’s perspective, there was a respectable but manageable-size crowd at the dressing-ceremony. But the other view is not to be discounted. And it is the person of faith who learns from what happened at the inauguration of the Mishkan, when 600,000 people fit in to a small space, that when God wills it, the seemingly impossible becomes as simple as filling the universe with billions of billions of stars and having none of them touch each other.

Adjusting After Interactions = Lesson Learned!

Parshat Bo 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 Four of the plagues involve living creatures coming to disturb the lives of the Egyptians: Frogs, Lice, Arov (purposely not translating as this one is complicated to identify), and the locusts. During the plagues of frogs and Arov, as well as before and after the locusts come, does Pharaoh admit wrongdoing or offer to let the Israelites go. There is no communication with Moshe and Aharon before, during or immediately after the lice. [He also offers to let them leave during the plagues of hail and darkness, changing his mind after each plague ended.]

 If we pay careful attention to the language in the Torah, we see lessons being learned by Pharaoh, Moshe and Aharon, and even God. How so?

Knowing the Inside Scoop of God's Plan

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Shortly after revealing himself to his brothers, Yosef tells them that “It has already been two years of famine throughout the land, but there will be five more years where there will be no plowing and [no] harvest.” (45:6)

 Why doesn’t he just say there will be no food? Ramban translates Yosef’s statement here to mean exactly that. But if that’s what Yosef meant, why didn’t he just say it? Furthermore, why mention both? Isn’t it obvious that if you’re not plowing, you won’t be harvesting?

The Blessing of God's Presence

Parshat Bechukotai 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 The beginning of Parshat Bechukotai paints an image of the kind of blessing we hope to receive from God. There are three conditions for Israelites to fulfill before they can enjoy the blessing of God’s bounty: a. walk in God’s decrees, which means to labor in Torah, b. observe the commandments – to guard them in one’s heart, through remembering what we learn, and c. the actual fulfillment of mitzvos.

 The message is a very logical one. The Torah makes it clear here that when the Jewish people fulfill their end of the deal, life in the land will be incredibly blessed.

 The blessing we ask of from God is for rain, crops, and produce, in overabundance.

 We ask for peace, for no dangerous animals to threaten, and for the sword to not even pass through the land.

We pray that enemies will be easily chased away, and large numbers of them will be defeated by very small numbers of us.

We embrace the blessing of people being fertile and numerous in the land.

 We accept the blessing that the Mishkan will last in the land and not grow tired of us.

All of this culminates with the most amazing promise of, “I will make My presence felt among you. Thus I will be a God to you, and you will be a nation dedicated to Me.” (26:12)

 Some of the commentaries describe these last blessings as referring to the World to Come. Others say it is a reference to what will happen in the Land of Israel when all of the Jewish people are fulfilling their missive as Jews who observe and keep the Torah and try to do as many mitzvot as they can.

Ramban talks about God’s presence here as the introduction to the concept of the “Shechinah.” He explains that the complete presence of God will only be felt when the heavens and earth can be complete, in the way they are meant to be. He cautions that these blessings were never achieved in their entirety – not by the masses nor by an individual, because their merits never added up.

Ramban concludes his commentary on this verse with a Midrashic quote that was expanded upon by Rashi who describes the image of God “making His presence felt amongst you” as “God strolling with us in the Garden of Eden like one of us.”

Imagine such a vision. Imagine taking a stroll with God. What to say? What to do? Shoot the breeze? Ask the deepest philosophical questions? Or just bask in the glow of that moment and cherish it forever because what more do we really need?

This is the ultimate blessing.

 There are many ways for blessings to manifest themselves. They can be given from humans to humans. They can be given from God to humans. People can feel blessed – by God or by the good turns their lives take. 

We can also be blessed to acknowledge God at all times, to be the ones to give blessings to others (as well as receive from others) and we can aim to see the blessing that Avraham received fulfilled in us – when he was first told to branch out on his own and make his way to the land that God will show him that he should BE a blessing to all who encounter him.

What an amazing life we would be living if we could only merit to be a blessing to all we encounter. And who knows? Perhaps if we lived life in such a way, we could merit to not have to wait for the Garden of Eden experience for God to be so closely among us. Perhaps we can achieve the “completeness” Ramban referred to, and thereby merit all the blessings of Parshat Bechukotai.

To Heal a Broken Heart

Parshat Tzav

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 The tragic story of a fire in Brooklyn coming on the ten year anniversary of a similar story in Teaneck has left the greater Jewish community reeling. We mourn with these families, and wish for a recovery for those still in medical care.

 Having seen and experienced devastating loss, the only thing I know to be experientially true is that love and the passage of time are the most important ingredients to being able to continue with life and to find happiness once again – if that becomes a goal in life. Having faith in God is also helpful, because it can help a person find a sense of purpose in living beyond tragedy.

 Towards the beginning of its commentary on our parsha, the Midrash Rabba aims to explain how those who suffer through devastating ordeals can get closer to God, utilizing the experience of King David, who said in Tehillim (Psalms 51:19): “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; O God, You will not despise a broken and crushed heart.”

 How true this statement is, and how true do we hope for it to always be.

 Of course, the Midrash does not raise this sentence in a vacuum. The parsha does focus heavily on sacrifices. And the Midrash paints King David’s statement as one of hope for how he could get closer to God despite having suffered terrible calamities.

 One utilization of the verse asserts King David’s Teshuva (repentance) process, in the aftermath of the Batsheva incident of Samuel II 12 as, “God, I have overcome my evil inclination, and I have repented before You. If You accept my repentance, I know that my son Shlomo will build the Beit Hamikdash, and build the Mizbeach, and burn the sacrifices on it.” This is how “a broken spirit” can turn into the fulfillment of “the sacrifices of God,” when the dream of what future generations can hopefully accomplish can be articulated and hopefully actualized.

 Another view utilizes the same verse as the answer to a question – not about King David and his son Shlomo, but about any person looking to find God: How do we know that a person who repents is given the credit for having gone up to Jerusalem, having built the Temple, having built the Mizbeach, and for sacrificing all of the offerings? Because this is how “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit.” The broken heart that accompanies repentance can bring about the highest level of serving God.

 But closeness to God is not only achieved through repentance, as is demonstrated through the concluding teaching of the Midrash, in the name of Rabbi Alexandri. If a human being is served with broken vessels, it is assumed to be an insult. But God is the opposite – He knows that the most powerful and the most poignant service comes from the brokenhearted. “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted, and He saves those of crushed spirit.” (Tehillim 34:19) God is the One “Who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Tehillim 147:3). The prophet Isaiah (57:15) quotes God Himself, who said, “With the lofty and the holy ones I dwell, and with the crushed and humble in spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the crushed…”

 What, therefore, is the meaning of “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit?” That through a broken heart one has the ability to come closest to God.

 The broken heart can be demonstrated in one of two ways. Either a person sins and breaks one’s heart through repentance. Or tragedy breaks one’s heart, and the person turns to God through serving him.

 When a nation can collectively have a broken heart, this Midrash is suggesting that we are experiencing the closest chance we have to seek out God’s presence, and to feel His comforting hand. When King David wrote Tehillim 51 in the aftermath of the Batsheva tale, he had two experiences which weighed heavily on his conscience.

 The first was that his conduct in that story was sinful and he needed to return to God. His deed was public, his exhortation from the prophet was spelled out to him, and he was also made aware through prophesy of what was expected of him.

 The second was that he had suffered the ultimate loss of several of his children – the first child born from his union with Batsheva (Shlomo was the 2nd child of that union), the deaths of his sons Avshalom and Amnon in his lifetime, as well as his daughter Tamar’s defilement at the hands of her half-brother Amnon. (Adoniyahu, another son, was killed shortly after King David’s death.)

 In our local story, there is no sin. There is no prophet. And there are no answers. There is only tragedy, suffering, and loss, for a family and for a community.

 There is no healing from losses of this kind. There is always an emptiness in the lives of surviving family members, as well as in the greater community.

 Hopefully, with the outpouring of love and with time, everyone will be able to find some kind of comfort from the ultimate Comforter because He will see that what brings us closest to Him is the broken heart.

Dependence Must Lead to Independence

The Other Side of Owing Someone Is Turning A (non financial) Debt Into An Opportunity

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

               

In Avraham’s relationship with the Almighty, their connection is described in different ways in the Torah. In the beginning of Lekh Lekha He is “Hashem who appeared to him” (12:7). In the Covenant Between the Pieces (15:7) God describes Himself as the One Who “brought you out (“hotzateekha” - הוצאתיך) of Ur Kasdim.”

                

Some of the commentaries note that the language of “who brought you out” is reminiscent of Shmot 20:2 when God describes taking the Israelites out of Egyptian bondage (“hotzateekha”) – both reference God’s saving the subject of the statement from a dangerous situation.

                

At the Covenant of Circumcision, God referred to Himself using other names: “Kel Shakkai” (17:1). After making his treaty with Avimelekh, Avraham refers to God as “the God of the world” (Kel olam).

                

In our parsha, Avraham enjoins his servant first “With Hashem the God of the heavens and the God of earth,”  (24:3), and in response to the servant’s concerns that the maiden might not join him, Avraham says, “Hashem the God of the heavens, Who took me out  (“l’ka’chani” - לקחני) of my father’s household and from the land of my birthplace, and Who spoke to me, and Who swore to me that ‘I will give this land to your descendants,’” is the One who will guarantee your success in this mission.

                

It is amazing to see how Avraham views his relationship with God versus how God viewed the same relationship. Avraham has many superlatives for God, while God sees Himself as a savior and as having different names – one which means “Who has enough” as long as Avraham follows His ways (Shakkai – which is spelled with a dalet instead of the k’s used here).

                

What I find fascinating is the difference between God’s “hotzateekha” (I brought you out/saved you) and Avraham’s “L’ka’chani” (who took me out of my father’s house). Are they really saying the same thing?

                

Radak’s explanation of “L’ka’chani” is that “since I was taken from that home, God does not want me to return there.” The Toldos Yitzhak suggests that it is only “Because God took me out of there that I need to return to there to find a wife for Yitzchak. Had I remained there, obviously this task would have been much easier.” In other words, look at the repeating root word in the verse. “Since God l’ka’chani, you will go and v’lakachta (you will take) a wife for Yitzchak…”

                

The main message we can glean from the difference in language is the one articulated by Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. God “took me” – and not “brought me out and saved me” – in order to make me into a vessel that could grasp and achieve God’s great purpose for humanity on earth.

                

It would seem that God viewed Avraham’s relationship as one in which “I did for you, now you owe Me.” Avraham, on the other hand, aimed to understand the purpose of that mission. It wasn’t as much, “What do I owe God in return for the kindnesses He did for me?” as much as it was “How can I understand God, and how can I make my relationship with Him become the primary focus of my life?”

                

There are great teachers, mentors, parents who might look back at their role in helping a child or a student. They may even think, “I saved this young person’s life” or “I gave this young person her first real chance” or “This young man owes everything to the assistance/training I gave him.”

                

In the event that they don't, they need to understand that there are different ways the other party will view that help or assistance. Some will look back at those early days and feel an eternal sense of gratitude. They may even be hampered from moving on because they may feel the gratitude they owe prevents them from branching out on their own.

                

Others may look at the opportunity of life skills they’ve been given as the tools which will help them achieve real independence. They’ll embrace their own stab at life with the attitude that “someone helped me get on my feet, and now I have to make the most of the gift of life that is mine to live. I have a mission to succeed, and I must take charge of my responsibility and shine in my own way, using my own unique talents, skills and abilities.”

                

As Avraham’s many adventures had brought him to the point of wealth and relaxation, he knew he owed much to God. But he also knew that his own efforts were highly significant in his achieving the esteem which followed him in his later years.

                

Both ingredients are important for the individual to succeed. But as each individual lives his or her own life, the person must be honored to see that the perspective of “saved me” really means “gave me the opportunity to try to make the most of my life.” 

BeLIeVING With All of Your Heart

Parshat Ki Tavo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

“This day God commands you to fulfill [all the laws], and you should do them with all your heart, and with all your soul.” (26:16)

 The Midrash Tanaim jumps on the classic interpretation (see also Tanchuma 1) that when Moshe says “This day” with reference to mitzvah observance, he is noting that any demonstration of following the Torah creates a visual for God as if the Jewish people have accepted the Torah today.

 It is possible that the word “L’vavkha” (your heart) is plural, suggesting more than one heart. Obviously every individual only has one heart. Midrash Tanaim suggest that the soul is also considered the heart. We know that body without a heart can not live. Perhaps the homiletic jump is not that far off, that a soulless individual has no real life.

 On the other hand, the Rosh argues that when a person prays he should be careful not to have two hearts, one focused on God and the other focused on other things.

 Rabbenu Bachaye looks at our opening verse and addresses the difference between this and a similar sentiment in the Shema. Moshe told us there, “And you shall love God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your essence… these words that I command you today should be on your heart…” The message there was also, as the Rabbis expounded, that the words of the Torah being commanded “today” should be new in your eyes always. After all, generations change, and the heart of Man is drawn after what he sees.

 This may be why the Shema is exactly that – a call to “Hear” and not to see. Seeing, after all, is a better form of proof leading to belief than merely hearing something second hand.

The truth is that every fact or event is only witnessed by a few people in the scheme of history. But if everyone talks about it, allowing others to “hear” about it, then word can spread forever.

 The message Rabbenu Bachaye extracts from our verse beginning with “this day” and ending with “with all your soul” is the teaching that a person is obligated to be “mosair nefesh” (push himself to the extremes, perhaps be ready to lay down his life) for mitzvos, throughout all generations, just as he was ready to do so on the day the Torah was given.

 Imagine what it was like to experience Revelation. To have all doubts removed, and to KNOW that God is there. To understand that our purpose in life was to be brought to this place so we could receive a gift. And the understanding of the special nature of the Torah becomes increasingly apparent, the more the weather changes from a bright and beautiful morning to a day of a smoking mountain, thunder and lightning, and the sound of a shofar.

 Just as a person would have been ready at that time to do anything for God, a person should be ready and prepared at all times, every day, to serve God properly.

 To put it more directly, the Seforno says the message of doing mitzvos with all your heart is, “That you should recognize without any doubt that it is proper to fulfill His will.”

 Whether one does it with the proper intention or not, the purpose of mitzvah observance and the goal of a Torah lifestyle is meant to train a person to be a “ma’amin,” a believer.

 Too often we fall back on the reasons for why we do the things we do, we daven because we’re trained to, we build a sukkah because it’s that time of year again, we keep Shabbos because we have to. These are all true.

 But we must also recognize that the Torah, for us, is a new book handed to us from Sinai. We know it comes from God! We know the author, the giver, and the teacher. And we want to fulfill its every word, because it is through fulfillment of these Mitzvos, and through the subsequent connection we build towards and maintain with God that we become fulfilled Jews.

 Let us strive to tap into that excitement of newness. To demonstrate for ourselves and our children and grandchildren that we can truly have a love for God and His People if we always have that fresh exhilaration at the prospect of doing His will.

The Victory That Comes From Doing God's Will

Parshat Devarim

by Rabbi Avi Billet               

Moshe said, “God was also angry at me… [as He] said, ‘You too shall not go there. Yehoshua bin-Nun… is the one who will apportion it to Israel. As for your children of whom you said ‘They’ll be taken captive,’ and your children who did not know good from evil this day – they will come there. To them shall I give it and they shall possess it.’” (Devarim 1:37-39)

                

Without going into too much of the background, in this passage Moshe outlines who will be inheriting the land – as the apportioner and the apportionees – and who will not be involved in the process (Moshe himself).

                

His focus on the children being the ones to inherit – along with the emphasis on good and evil – prompted the Midrash Tanaim to explain that this is a reference to war. “They have to know that it is God who wages war for you, and that you do not have to fight when you are doing God’s will.” The Baal Haturim goes along similar lines when he says exile would have never happened had the people not turned to sin.

                

Rabbi Yehuda Amital, the founding Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion (“the Gush”), was appropriately critical of people (i.e. certain contemporary rabbis) who would look at any event and ascribe causality to it. “This tragedy happened because…” is in an ineffable statement to make. We don’t explain rockets, destruction, wars, and a Holocaust. We are not prophets. We do not know why these things happen.

                

God-fearing people say “This is God’s will. It is part of His Master Plan,” and continue to live their lives in the service of God, trying to get closer to Him despite the sadness that may pervade at any particular point in time. Rav Amital, whose fifth yarzeit was this past week, was in several labor camps during the Holocaust and lost his entire family. In response to the question of how he could have faith in God after the Holocaust, he explained that if he had lost his faith that wouldn’t bring his family back. It wouldn’t answer any of his questions about God’s hiding His face during that era of darkness.

                

But the message of the Midrash Tanaim is still worthy of consideration. We do not understand how the “doing of God’s will” plays a role in the upper spheres. But every one of us can probably pinpoint a time in our lives when we knew we were doing things right, and other things in our lives fell into place. Whether it was a job, a promotion, a family member getting better from illness, or life just being good. It happens all the time – we just don’t always notice.

                

And so it is up to us, particularly at this time of year with Tisha B’Av approaching, to ask ourselves if we are properly doing God’s will. The great prophets and Sages were granted the insight to say the first Temple was destroyed because of murder, idolatry, immorality, and the Second Temple was destroyed on account of baseless hatred. And while we don’t dare make similar pronouncements in our times (and shame on those who do!), we can certainly improve in those areas! Idolatry and murder are, thank God, not big challenges for our people. But immorality is. And baseless hatred certainly is.

                

There’s a reason many of the “al chet”s we include in our Viduy confession are for sins of the eyes and the mouth, because it is through these channels that most of our sins are committed – whether we ourselves look at things we should not be looking at and say things we should not, or whether we cause others to look at things they should not see or have them hear things they should not be hearing.

                

The good and evil that the Midrash Tanaim says refers to war could have two meanings. The esoteric meaning is for the internal battle that a person fights between the yetzer hara (the evil inclination) and the yetzer hatov (the good inclination).

                

But in a practical sense, it refers to the battles which were to soon be waged by the Israelite armies entering the land. And Moshe is recalling how 39 years earlier he told the generation that was not going to be entering the land that it would be up to their innocent children, who had not yet tasted good and evil, to lead the charge in inheriting the land.

                

The verses which follow show the response of the people when they heard this pronouncement:  “We have sinned to God! We will go up and do battle according to everything that our God has commanded us!” (1:41)

                

And the Exodus generation was told not to, because God was no longer with them and would not fight their battles any more.

                

Are we reliving this history? Every generation in Israel has borne the responsibility of fighting the battle that the previous generation did not finish. It is the “children” (18-22 year olds are young men, but they are all sons of the nation of Israel) who are fighting, the children who learn quickly about the difference between good and evil. Many of these “children” are older reservists, and they too are battling in the trenches.

                

Our job is to love them, to care for them, and to do our part through doing God’s will. Unlike the generation who left Egypt, who were told (when they messed up with the spies) that God is no longer with them, we must assure, for the safety of our soldiers and our People in Israel and around the world, that we are doing God’s will, so God will in-turn be with us.

                

When the enemy is so evil and only cares to rack up deaths on both sides, we must know where we stand. War is sadly a necessary evil. And it brings great sacrifice in pursuit of a hopefully attainable and sustainable peace. The attitude of Tzahal (IDF) through all of this has been inspiring.

                

May our efforts, not just during the Nine Days, but throughout the year as well, sway God to continue to guide the soldiers of Israel in their important work, and may all of Israel merit to live peacefully under the banner of the promise that “your children who did not know good from evil this day – they will come there. To them shall I give it and they shall possess it.” In safety, in peace, and – much like has been demonstrated in Israel in support of the soldiers – with a complete sense of Ahavat Chinam, loving our fellow Jew.

The Missing Alef – God in Our Lives

Parshat Shlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Towards the end of Shlach, the Torah gives us instructions for a case of what Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitles, “Communal Sin Offerings for Idolatry,” based no doubt on Rashi’s explanation of the phrase, “When [the collective] you err and don’t do all of these commandments.”

 15:22 declares, “[This is the law] if you inadvertently [commit an act of idolatry]…” The community then becomes responsible to “prepare one young bull for a burnt offering as an appeasing fragrance to God, along with its prescribed grain offering and libation. [They must also present] one goat for a sin offering.” (15:24)

 On account of the inadvertence of the sin, the Torah goes on to explain, the community has a much easier time achieving atonement, as opposed to if the sins had been purposeful.

 It is hard to understand how the entire nation would inadvertently commit an act of idolatry. Though maybe a case of Trudeaumania (or any similar hype), or a mistaken belief that a spiritual act of some kind is proper when it is in fact idolatrous, are possibilities.

 In either case, the way the Torah depicts the sin offering to be brought is odd. The Hebrew word for this offering is a “Chatat” – normally containing the letters chet, tet, alef, taf. In this case, however, for the only time in the Torah when “chatat” appears, the silent alef is not merely silent. It is missing.

 Why would the Torah leave out a letter that is part of the word? I may not really need the “o” in “enough.” But without it, the word is “enugh.” Even if in context we know what it is, the misspelling should not have a place in the Torah!

 Sure enough, a number of sources and commentators try to explain the missing Alef.

 The Sifrei (Midrash) explains there is a lesson here, that the sin offering is indeed for mistakenly committing an act of idolatry. Just as the alef is the first letter, idolators rebelled against God’s oneness, being the first of all existence.

 Rashi suggests this sin offering is different from all others because with every other sin offering that accompanies an olah (burnt offering) the sin offering is listed first. Here the olah is listed first. The missing alef, therefore, is a call to attention to this anomaly.

 Kli Yakar expands on Rashi, explaining that idolatry is unique in that a person who commits it is considered as having committed all the sins of the Torah. In every other “accidental” sin, the person commits an act of thought and action. If there is no thought or intent, it isn’t “inadvertent” any more – it is “oness” (blameless) (an example of oness is if I am obeying traffic rules and my car breaks something that has been thrown in front of it with no way for me to avoid it). A sinner normally needs to bring two offerings for atonement – the olah for the thought process, and the chatat for the actual deed. Thought is not normally punished if there is no subsequent action (see Tehillim 66:18).

 Normally the chatat comes first because the action is the bigger sin, even though it came second. 

However, when it comes to idolatry, the thought process (atoned through the olah) is the bigger sin, because that is where the denial of God and His role in the world begins. The action is merely a manifestation of the misdeed of thought. “This is why ‘chatat’ is written without an alef, because alef has the numerical value of one which teaches us about the Oneness of God. A person who commits an act of idolatry contradicts God’s Oneness. This is demonstrated through the missing Alef, because that [missing the Alef] is actually the person’s sin. Unlike other sins where the thought is meaningless without the action, the thought process of idolatry [is the source of the person’s problems].”

 Basing himself on the Talmud (Horayot13), the Torah Temimah presents the argument that the chatat offering in this case, is a lesser chatat offering than others – presumably because the main offering here is the olah, for the thought process.

 To summarize, it seems clear that the missing alef is a call to attention (Rashi). Either we have the possibility that the missing Alef is symbolic of God’s Oneness (Sifrei) or it is literally the Torah’s way of telling us what the sin here is (Kli Yakar). From all cases we note that the sin offering is mentioned second to the olah because the greater sin here is in the thought process, which achieves its atonement through the olah [the sin of thought and its olah normally being the lesser of the two evils of thought and action]. Perhaps the missing alef also notes that in this context the action makes the chatat offering lesser important because it is a lesser word than usual.

 While literal idolatry in the form of worshipping idols is not a mainstream problem, there are still proverbial idols that we tend to worship. And the missing alef is a reminder to us that when our thoughts wander from our heavenward goals, that is the bigger sin. When we plan our lives, for example, around television shows instead of around our chavrusas and Torah learning opportunities, we are guilty of the thought process of idolatry.

 In this post-Shavuos week, we need to remind ourselves that being the People of the Book does not only mean that we honor the Torah, or that we have libraries in our homes. It means we must read our books and create homes in which God is at the forefront of our minds at all times. This will certainly help prevent sins of thought, as we build our God-fearing qualities which help us get closer to God. We don’t want any missing Alefs in our collective Jewish experiences.

Value of Our "Seed"

Parshat Bechukotai

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The final chapter of the book of Vayikra delves into the topic of Endowments and Valuations, essentially answering the question of what value humans, animals and properties have if a person makes a pledge to the Mishkan based on the value of another human being, etc. It is not to suggest that a direct monetary value can be assigned to any person, because human beings are priceless, but that a donation based on such a declaration carries with it a measurable value.

              
“If a man consecrates a field from his hereditary property to God, its endowment value shall be calculated according to the amounts of seed [required to sow it], 50 silver shekels for each chomer of barley seed.” Chomer is a measurement of seed that might cover or plant close to 4 acres of farmland. (See the Living Torah)

              
Rabbi Akiva Sofer asks a very simple question, and gives a very Hassidic-style answer. “Do you want to know the value of the person who sanctifies his property to God? Do you want to know if he is complete in his heart, in his fear and reverence of God? Then ‘his value should be calculated based on his seed.’”

              
Rabbi Sofer takes the literal meaning of the text and takes a very simple alternative twist, utilizing another important translation of the word “Zera” -

Two Sets of Tablets (and 2 Arks)

Parshat Ki Tisa

By Rabbi Avi Billet

After Moshe breaks the Luchot (first set of Tablets), he is graced with a unique aura that raises his status in the eyes of the people. First he is forced to take his tent some distance outside of the camp (2000 cubits – see Targum Yonatan) because God’s presence leaves from amongst the people. (33:7-11)

At the end of the parsha, when he descends with the second set of Luchot (34:29-35) his face is shining to the point that no one can look at him. He must wear a mask in order for people to be in his presence because they cannot perceive his face, a face which has seen the Divine.

Beyond an effort to seek and provide a neutral ground for the devout who honestly seek the presence of God (Targum Yonatan and others), what is the significance of Moshe’s tent, which is now called an “Ohel Moed” (Tent of Meeting)? Did the original storage of the Luchot (broken and replacement) contribute to the formulation of this “Ohel Moed”? Did this episode redefine, in any way, the purpose of the Mishkan?

The episode indicates that Moshe’s tent was literally a spiritual center, a place of inspiration, where a cloud descended to demonstrate the presence of the Divine which was no longer entering the camp (Ramban). That Moshe conversed with the Divine “face to face” and that Yehoshua never left the tent, indicates that these leaders are uniquely endowed spiritually, and that their “hangout” is a preview of the Mishkan that will soon be built. More than a preview, perhaps it is actually the Mishkan 1.0 (see Ibn Ezra HaArokh), while the model which will be made by Betzalel will be Mishkan 2.0.

We can infer from Moshe's depiction of what happened to the Luchot after he brought them down from the mountain that Moshe’s tent became the first Mishkan (Devarim 10:1-5). He explains that he had been instructed to make an ark out of wood and to place the Luchot in them. Where was this ark stored? Most likely it was stored in Moshe’s tent. So if the cloud descended on the tent, Moshe communicated with God, and the Ark with its Luchot was there, Moshe’s tent now seems to be a functioning Mishkan. (See Shmot 25:22, Bamidbar 7:89, Shmot 24:15-18 and Shmot 40:31).

Most of the commentaries agree that the ark in this discussion was a different ark from the one which would eventually adorn the mishkan. This is especially true, as Rashi in Devarim 10:1 points out, because work on Betzalel’s Mishkan only began after Yom Kippur (when Moshe came down with Luchot II), and the Mishkan parts themselves, the actual physical structure of the building, were constructed before the golden Ark was made. In other words, a longer-term storage solution for the Luchot (as in, for several months) was necessary until the Mishkan could be finalized.

Enter the ark mentioned in Devarim 10 which was unique because it was made only of wood, without gold. And while Ramban in Devarim 10:1 indicates it had a cover, he also posits that this ark was made only for the second Luchot. The first Luchot never had a box made directly for them because they were not meant to last – God “knew all along” that they would be broken. Furthermore, assuming for a moment that the first Luchot were not supposed to break, they would still not need a box to store them, as they can be credited with storing themselves. (Or haChaim)

The fate of Moshe’s special Ark seemed to be that it was buried some time after the Mishkan’s ark was created to replace it, to hold the Luchot and the broken Luchot. There is a debate as to whether it was taken out to war, or if it was captured during the time of Eli the High Priest. But it was not meant to be a long-lasting solution. It was never meant to be more than a temporary solution, a short-term storage box (in the grander scheme of history) for God’s gift to the Israelites, the gift of the Luchot.

We can make the argument that the post-Golden Calf era was so tainted by the Golden Calf episode, to the point that the original Mishkan commandments became obsolete. Maybe Moshe’s moving his tent, which became the interim Mishkan, outside the camp, symbolically indicated God’s disappointment and the need for the people to see that spirituality in a vacuum, when defined by the feelings of the people and not by what God intended, can only lead to a spiritual center in which everything but the rawest basics needs to be stripped away and removed lest people think that the gold and the vestments and the animals are what service of God is all about.

Service of God can be achieved through the most simple of methods, without show and fanfare, when we understand that “All who sought God could go out to the Tent of Meeting that was outside of the camp.” (33:7)

Service of God, in its basic form, is never about bells and whistles and all the trimmings of religious political activism. It is about me having a relationship with The Creator, or about you having a relationship with The Creator. It is about creating a home where the broken Luchot and the replacement Luchot share a space, even if it is a simple wooden box unadorned by any precious metals, because both covenants – as represented by each set of Luchot – speak to God’s changing patience and to the frailties of humans who may mistakenly think they know what God wants and what is the best way to serve Him.

Our task is to look to His book as a guide and to do our best, with the utmost unbridled sincerity, untainted by agenda driven practices, to get close to Him. Because if it doesn’t pass the simple smell-test of historical genuineness, it might be an aberration as damaging as the Golden Calf, which set the people back to the basics of Mishkan building - with an edifice as simple as Moshe's tent converted to become a Mishkan. Through this the people could now understand that all the gold, silver and copper was meaningless in the service of God if the people using it were misguided in how to properly use the precious materials to achieve such an end.

Betzalel’s Mishkan, as it were, was then constructed with one phrase repeated over and over: with everything being made and done (and therefore utilized) “Exactly as God had commanded Moshe.” Not changing anything because the times demanded it. But doing it exactly right because that is what God intended.

God's Four Species

Sukkot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Leviticus 23:40: "On the first day, you must take for yourself a fruit of the citron tree, an unopened palm frond, myrtle branches, and willows [that grow near] the brook. You shall rejoice before God for seven days."

This translation is taken from Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan's Living Torah, where he has the following footnotes sourcing the definitions of the branches and fruit in question.

"citron tree - (Targum; Saadia). Hadar in Hebrew, usually referred to as Ethrog."unopened palm frond - (Sukkah 32a; Rashi)."myrtle branches – (cf. Sukkah 32b; Rashi). The practice is to place three such branches in the bunch."willows... - (cf. Sukkah 34a). Two are placed in the bunch, together with the palm frond and myrtle."

The curiosity that pervades these days – the kind that overrides the "Bible states, therefore it is" explanation – may cause people to wonder "Why these specific items? What, if anything, is 'special' about them?"

The Sefer HaManhig explains that the Etrog (citron) resembles a heart (in shape), and comes to bring atonement for the (sinful) thoughts of the heart. The Hadas (myrtle) resembles eyes (in shape) to atone for (sins) of probing eyes. These two follow the verse, "You will then not stray after your heart and eyes…" (Bamidbar 15:39). The Aravah (willow) resembles the lips, to atone for sins that come from utterances of the lips. And why the Lulav (palm frond)? Just as the Lulav (לולב) has only one heart (this is a play on the word Lulav – which can be read in Hebrew as "Lo Lev" (לו לב) – it has a heart of palm!), so too Israel has only one heart, which is directed towards its Father in heaven.

It would seem that the four species are heavily symbolic in that they help us achieve atonement that may have escaped our Yom Kippur efforts. This revelation would indicate that those who poke others with their Lulav, or who shake the Lulav set in a manner similar to a Jedi light-sabre, are missing the point of the mitzvah.

Even for those who don't care so much for the "shape of item resembles a body-part" approach, there are textual suggestions that make these items even more compelling.

In Vayikra Rabba 30:9, in a statement sometimes accredited to Rabbi Akiva, the Midrash demonstrates how each of the Four Species is a reference to the Almighty. The Pri Etz Hadar (Etrog) refers to God, as it says, "You (God) are clothed in majesty and splendor (Hadar)." (Tehillim 104:1)

The Kapot T'marim (Lulav) refers to God, as it says, "The righteous flourish like a date palm (Tamar)." (Tehillim 92:13) The Anaf Etz Avot (Hadasim) refer to God, as it says, "And He was standing among the myrtles (Hadasim)." (Zechariah 1:8) [This reference is to the vision of an angel.] And Arvei Nachal (Aravot) refer to God, as it says, "With His name [as identified in the verse], acclaim the One who rides the Aravot [the highest firmament of the heavens]."

By all rights, argues the Chid"a, we should not be allowed to use these items. These are God's belongings – the Lulav is comparable to God's scepter! Even were the king to allow his subjects to minimize his honor, the Talmud states in numerous places that he is ignored. His honor is not his own to discard.

However, explains the Chid"a, since the Children of Israel are described in the Torah as God's children (Devarim 14:1), the contrasted ruling to that of the king is that if a father forgives his honor, he is granted that allowance, and his children can make use of his property.

Some of the senior members of our People recall a time when very few individuals, or perhaps only the rabbi had a set of the Four Species. We are to be grateful that we live in a time when not only are the Four Species available all around the world, but most Jews can afford their own set.

As the holiday of Sukkot comes upon us, and we undertake the mitzvah of the Four Species, let us express our gratitude for the fortuitous circumstance that allows for the widespread observance of this mitzvah. Let us also appreciate the hidden depth in the mitzvah, as we are given the chance to get closer to God through holding and waving the items that are Biblically connected directly to Him.

To Walk in His Ways

Parshat Ki Tavo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The bulk of Parshat Ki Tavo is occupied by the Tokhacha, the great Rebuke that is promised to the Israelite nation in exchange for their infidelity to God. Prior to the curses and promises of destruction there are 14 verses of blessing which, were we to keep our end of the deal, paint the Israelite existence in the Land as the most fantastic we could ever dream to experience.

            

In the middle of the blissful depiction of Divine Grace, we read, "The Lord will establish you as His holy people as He swore to you, if you observe the commandments of the Lord, your God, and walk in His ways." (Devarim 28:9)

            

The simple reading of this verse seems to be descriptive and straightforward. God will do "Y" for you on account of your having done "X." Nowhere does there seem to be a commandment in this verse. While not exactly a throwaway line, the phrase "walk in His ways" on a base level does not seem to be an instruction as much as it is an example of how to observe the commandments. In the original text, the phrase is two words, "V'halakhta B'drakhav."

            

Another example of this is the phrase "Zeh eili v'anvehu" (Shmot 15:2) – this is my God and I will glorify Him. In Mesekhet Sofrim 3:17, this verse is utilized to explain how a Jew should go the extra mile to fulfill mitzvot with nicer products rather than with inferior products. Some examples include: decorating the sukkah, finding the best lulav set, using the best materials (ink, quill, parchment, etc) when writing a Torah, mezuzah or putting together tefillin.

            

The original phrase was uttered by the people in the context of the Song of the Sea, and while perhaps not a throwaway line, it is certainly not viewed as a mitzvah! While the people may have accepted upon themselves a commitment to glorifying God, this does not turn their "chumrah" choices (stringencies) into an absolute requirement.

            

Similarly, the notion of "V'halakhta B'drakhav" could arguably be viewed in the same way. How does one best fulfill commandments? Or more accurately, how does one behave in the most complete and perfect fashion? Through walking in His ways. The same source in Mesekhet Sofrim (and Yerushalmi Peah 1:1) quotes Abba Shaul as saying, "Just as He is merciful, you should be merciful."

            

And yet Maimonides takes the verse and extracts what is, in his count, the 8^th commandment in the Torah: To Imitate God. Maimonides claims the mitzvah appears elsewhere as well – see Devarim 8:6, 10:12, 11:22, 13:5, 19:9, 26:17, 30:16 – and yet he uses our verse as his prime example of the mitzvah, utilizing the teaching of "Just as He is merciful…" which also appears in the Sifrei on Eikev to describe exactly how one walks in God's ways.

            

In describing this mitzvah, Ramban quotes the passage in Sotah 14a (Maimonides mentions it in passing) which further describes the imitation of God's ways as "clothing the naked, visiting the sick, comforting the mourner and burying the dead" each of which God did for Adam, Avraham, Yitzchak and Moshe respectively.

            

Considering the 7 other places where this idea occurs in the book of Devarim, it is hard to argue that "Walking in God's ways" should not be a mitzvah. Each verse in its context clearly says it is a mitzvah. But it is still curious that Maimonides chooses the phrase in 28:9 as the poster phrase for this mitzvah. The verse is not quoted in the entire Talmud. And were it to appear alone in the Torah, without the seven supporting verses, perhaps we would be able to argue that "walking in God's ways" is no more of a mitzvah than "this is my God and I will glorify Him." Meaning, it is a nice and helpful piece of instruction, but by no means one of the six hundred and thirteen commandments!

            

I think a difference between this verse and all the others is that 28:9 is the first mention of imitating God that appears after Moshe's big speech. Devarim 5-26 has been one long monologue of Moshe telling the people a mixture of narrative and commandment, perhaps lending itself to people thinking Moshe was adding things of his own accord. Perhaps people felt that "Moshe's 'throwaway lines' were added touches, but were not meant as commandments" because they did not see God's strings pulling Moshe's teachings.

            

Now that the big speech is over and Moshe is once again telling the people that he is quoting God, 28:9 is the first time he mentions to walk in God's ways. Maimonides is merely jumping on this appearance of the idea in order to make it clear to those with doubts that this is not a throwaway line – it is a commandment like any other, and it comes from God.

            

The preparations for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur require us to square away wrongs we have committed against our fellow man and wrongs we have committed against God. The mitzvah of imitating God is meant to help us accomplish both. If we are always being like God, we can not possibly wrong God. And if we follow the examples that the Talmud brings of how we are to treat man through imitating God, we will become the most caring individuals.

            

May we merit to utilize this mitzvah of imitating God to become the most wholesome people in our relationships with God and our fellow Man.

O, man. Where art thou?

Parshat Devarim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In the Midrash Rabba's introduction to Megillat Eichah (paragraph 4), Rabbi Abahu compares the experience of the nation of Israel in the land and being exiled to the experience of the first identified man in the Torah, Adam. "Like Adam, they violated the covenant."

Adam was placed in the garden, was commanded, he violated the command, was judged, expelled, and God lamented over his downfall. Israel had the same experience: brought into Israel, commanded, they violated the command, they were judged and expelled. God lamented over their downfall.

The lament in both cases is highlighted by the midrash with the same word – at least in its spelling. Alef Yud Kaf Heh - איכה. The difference between the two words is that in Adam's case, the word is pronounced "Ayekah," while the lament for the Israelite nation is pronounced "Eichah."

In essence, when Adam is hiding after having eaten from the Tree of Knowledge, and God calls out to him saying, "Ayekah" – "Where are you?" (Bereshit 3:9) – God is lamenting that Adam feels his newfound knowledge gives him the ability to hide from God.

With regard to the Israelites, "O how has the city that was once so populous remained lonely!" (Eichah 1:1) It's a lament for what could have been, had the Israelites only continued to keep God's word.

Yirmiyahu said in 16:11 that the exile happened because the people abandoned God and did not observe the Mitzvot. The Midrash here (Eichah Introduction, paragraph 2) quotes Rav Huna's expounding on this that "If only they had abandoned Me and did not abandon My Torah! because observing the Torah would have brought them around to God again."

The term "Eichah," which Moshe utilizes in our parsha when he says "Eichah Esa L'vadi?" (1:12) – how could I carry this burden myself – is a powerful term which expresses a longing for every ideal imaginable: time, circumstance, peers, community.

 In a sermon he delivered in 1964, Rabbi Norman Lamm argued that the intention behind paralleling Adam to Israel is the teaching that "Israel's exile issues from a human failing rather than a specifically Jewish weakness."

 The word "Eichah"'s chief connotation is one of doom and gloom. That could be Moshe's intent when talking about the burden of leading the people alone. It was certainly Yirmiyahu's intent. Was it also God's intent with Adam?

 Following Rabbi Lamm's understanding of the parallel in the Midrash, the word Eichah, in our Parsha, in the Haftorah this week, in Megillat Eichah, and indeed even in the Adam story, teaches us a powerful lesson in what it means to lament over the loss of an ideal.

The earlier of the two Midrashic paragraphs that have been quoted here (Intro:2) suggested that abandoning God might not have been so terrible as long as the Torah had not been abandoned. The argument was that the Torah is the true anchor to God.

 In other words, falling in love with God alone – without the Torah – is not our way. A Jewish life that is governed by Torah observance, first and foremost, according to the Midrash, is what brings a person back to God.

 It's a hard sell to a rationalist. Why would anyone observe the Torah without believing in God? Perhaps the Torah has universal truths which speak to people who want to be a part of it, but have difficulty with accepting an all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful, invisible God.

 But this is the message of "Ayekah." No person who is committed to Torah can survive very long in the system without coming to some kind of epiphany that God plays an essential role in all of this. "Where are you, Adam? Where are you, Mankind?" Can you really hide forever? Do you think I won't find you? Torah comes first. Not God.

 The people, at the time of Temple's destruction, imagined that God could only be found in the Temple, but nowhere else.

 With this in mind, Rabbi Lamm proposed a few opposite-ended questions which may help us drive one of the important messages of Tisha B'Av into our systems.

 What makes you think that you can declare any place in the world out-of-bounds for God? May a man hate his brother, so long as he prays in the Bet Hamikdash? May he exploit his worker and drive his slaves, as long as he brings his sacrifices regularly to Jerusalem?

 "When you restrict God only to the Synagogue, then He refuses to dwell even in the Synagogue." Parallel statements about when we pick and choose the manner in which we observe Torah and Halakha are easily understood.

We dress one way in shul and school, and with no rules in other places. We keep separate dishes in our homes, but aren't careful about kosher standards outside the home. We would never go to places of ill-repute in our neighborhood, but on vacation or when no one knows us, all bets are off. We would never speak inappropriately, but we don't object to being around others who do. The list goes on.

The message of Eichah and Ayeka is a lament over where we could be. We need not pretend we can hide from God. We must strive to have our external and our internal lives match one another – to be the most wholesome people we can be.

Even Moshe's lament about his leadership is a poignant reminder that we in the Jewish community need not go about this alone. We have one another, and we must utilize one another, to create a system that helps us raise and better our lives and Jewish experiences to the exponential power we can achieve through unwavering personal and communal support for such efforts.

The Crouching Sin

Parshat Bereshit

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The stage is set. The first two sons of Man have brought their offerings to their God, and He has favored the younger's dedication. The older brother is disheartened, and it shows on his face.

Says God, "What are you so frustrated? Why has your face fallen? If you do good, you will lift up! But if not, then sin lies crouching at the door. It desires to get you, but you can rule over it." (4:6-7)

            

In the next verse Kayin kills his brother.

The story is incomplete. Why Kayin killed Hevel is unclear. Was he provoked? Was it self defense? Did he even understand that his act could be fatal? Was the murder premeditated? Or an error? There are a myriad of interpretations hinged on the question of what the "sin crouching at the door" might be. As God's statement was the last thing Kayin heard before he committed murder, one can argue it was the trigger that unleashed his rage. But what did God mean?

In a lecture on repentance delivered in 1987, Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein explained the "sin that crouches at the door" as the most blatant obstacle to proper observance of the Law and commitment to God which plagues a particular hashkafic (philosophical) community.

"…[It] is not the same sin at every door. Each door, each domicile, each community has its particular sin, a specific spiritual danger indigenous to it, endemic to that group or that individual." Quoting the Chafetz Chaim, he notes that different generations have different pitfalls. Some "succumb to idolatry, others to desecration of Shabbat, some to sins between man and his Maker, and others to interpersonal sins."

At the same time that he declared the sin plaguing the Religious Zionist community (ie "Modern Orthodox" community in the United States) to be one of "shikhecha," forgetting God, or "lacking the immanent sense of God felt so deeply, keenly and pervasively in other parts of the halakhically committed Jewish world" (which is indeed a problem), he defined "avodah zara" – beyond idolatry – as "superstition and misguided conceptions of God."

Rabbi Lichtenstein does not need my stamp of approval. His assessment of our community is spot on. But I think his definition of avodah zara is also quite noteworthy.

Looking to rabbis (people) as role models is wonderful. Idolizing them and turning them into flawless human beings is idolatry. Many rabbis exhibit excellent judgment all the time. Some make mistakes. The real Gedolim acknowledge their mistakes.

Kosher laws are quite special. Making an obsession about invisible parasites – and thus declaring water, lettuce, broccoli and strawberries unkosher – is idolatry. (No one is interested in eating infested vegetables. Remind people that bugs are not kosher, but don't wage war on fruits and vegetables!)

Modesty is one of the most important Jewish traits. But making a religion solely about personal definitions of such – when the law is somewhat flexible, and in some cases changes based on the standards of the general society – is idolatry! Modesty is not just about length of clothing and size of head coverings.

A chupah is a public event that declares a man and woman united in marriage. This allows them to be seen together in public, and to sit together at a wedding or any simcha other than their own wedding. Who has separate seating at their family Shabbat table?

Why do advertisements for communities and retirement homes in magazines only feature males in the photographs? Is it such a crime to see a photograph of a little girl, a mother in modest dress, or an elderly woman in a wheelchair? This is our world. This is life.

           

Mandating to others how to live, and judging their "frumkeit" based on externals (not calling a Kohen or Levi to the Torah or not counting a bar mitzvah for a minyan on account of a T-shirt or their not being from "your crowd") is not only the most disgusting form of sinat chinam (baseless hatred), but is also a form of idolatry. 

I received the following email in response to a debate about metzitzah that I posted on my blog, in which a pro Metzitzah b'Peh person told me that he cares not about Jews or people (or babies) in general, but only about "God and Halacha": "The 'pious' Jew who only cares about 'God' and His rulebook is clearly off the derech… whatever he is worshipping it is not God. He [has] invented a God to worship and [has] created an imaginary rule book… to replace the much more challenging reality [of what it means to be an observant Jew]."

Kayin could not overcome his crouching sin, perhaps his passion, and it caused him to kill his brother.

           

For some Jewish people, worship of the "avodah zara" I have described is their crouching sin. On account of it Judaism is ultimately denigrated, the shouting matches which ensue, and the negative feelings exacerbated through criticizing others all come at the expense of the, perhaps unanticipated, desecration of God's name which appears in television, newspapers and blogs fueled by misinformation, yes, but also improperly presented information which depicts Orthodox Jews as being hopelessly stubborn or blinded by their own faith.

            

In Kayin's case, his sin lay in his inabilities: to discern the flaw in his gift to God, to learn from his mistakes, and to see that he could live in harmony with his brother, despite their differences, and that each had a unique way of relating to God. If they could only respect the other approach – live and let live and stop telling the other what to do in the most intolerant of ways – they could have lived in harmony.

The saga of brother versus brother need have never unfolded so tragically.

Rosh Hashana 5773: Secret Ingredient To Teshuvah

Rosh Hashana: The Secret Ingredient to Teshuvah and A Fulfilling Life

Rabbi Avi Billet

This past shabbos we read Parshas Nitzavim,  which the Shulchan Arukh tells us is read on the Shabbos before RH to be a buffer between the devastating affects of the Tokhacha and Rosh Hashana. Who wants the Tokhacha to be the most recent memory of a Torah reading when we enter this Yom HaDin?

So instead, what is our most recent memory?

דברים פרק ל

(א) וְהָיָה כִי יָבֹאוּ עָלֶיךָ כָּל הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵלֶּה הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ וַהֲשֵׁבֹתָ אֶל לְבָבֶךָ בְּכָל הַגּוֹיִם אֲשֶׁר הִדִּיחֲךָ יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ שָׁמָּה:

(ב) וְשַׁבְתָּ עַד יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ וְשָׁמַעְתָּ בְקֹלוֹ כְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוְּךָ הַיּוֹם אַתָּה וּבָנֶיךָ בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשֶׁךָ:

(ג) וְשָׁב יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ אֶת שְׁבוּתְךָ וְרִחֲמֶךָ וְשָׁב וְקִבֶּצְךָ מִכָּל הָעַמִּים אֲשֶׁר הֱפִיצְךָ יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ שָׁמָּה:

When God pushes you away on account of your bad deeds, you shall return to God and heed His voice – return to Him בכל לבבך ובכל נפשך. Because, if you return to Him, then He will return you to your land, He'll have mercy, he'll gather you from all the nations to where He had sent you, and He'll bring you home.

There's another passage.

(טו) רְאֵה נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ הַיּוֹם אֶת הַחַיִּים וְאֶת הַטּוֹב וְאֶת הַמָּוֶת וְאֶת הָרָע:

(טז) אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוְּךָ הַיּוֹם לְאַהֲבָה אֶת יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ לָלֶכֶת בִּדְרָכָיו וְלִשְׁמֹר מִצְוֹתָיו וְחֻקֹּתָיו וּמִשְׁפָּטָיו וְחָיִיתָ וְרָבִיתָ וּבֵרַכְךָ יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ בָּאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה בָא שָׁמָּה לְרִשְׁתָּהּ:

Then He says what will happen if you don't listen… and He concludes

(יט) הַעִדֹתִי בָכֶם הַיּוֹם אֶת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת הָאָרֶץ הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶת נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה וּבָחַרְתָּ בַּחַיִּים לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה אַתָּה וְזַרְעֶךָ:

(כ) לְאַהֲבָה אֶת יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ וּלְדָבְקָה בוֹ כִּי הוּא חַיֶּיךָ וְאֹרֶךְ יָמֶיךָ לָשֶׁבֶת עַל הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְקֹוָק לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב לָתֵת לָהֶם: פ

            God places before us a choice of life and good or death and bad. And then He tells us, "Choose Life." Which stands to indicate that there isn't really a choice. Life and goodness is the choice we make. And our actions are meant to pave the way for that reality to set in. It all comes from loving God, listening to His voice, and clinging to Him.

            It's a pretty straightforward equation. And as far as an introduction to Rosh Hashana goes, I think you can't do much better than this reminder as far as what we are looking to get out of this day.

            But I want to go back to the idea of "ושבת עד ה' אלקיך" – You shall return to Hashem your God.

            What does this mean? How does one do it? What is the secret ingredient?

            Rabbi Soloveitchik noted Rabbi Akiva's comment in the last Mishnah in Yoma.

 אמר רבי עקיבא אשריכם ישראל לפני מי אתם מיטהרין מי מטהר אתכם אביכם שבשמים שנאמר (יחזקאל ל"ו) וזרקתי עליכם מים טהורים וטהרתם ואומר (ירמיה י"ד) מקוה ישראל ה' מה מקוה מטהר את הטמאים אף הקדוש ברוך הוא מטהר את ישראל:

Rabbi Akiva rhetorically asks, "Before whom do you become pure and who purifies you?" Rabbo Soloveitchik asked, "Why does it talk about purity twice?" And he answers because there are two kinds of purification – the kind one does for oneself through dunking in a mikveh, and the kind one needed someone else for, namely to be sprinkled with the ashes of the Parah Adumah. One could not sprinkle oneself; someone else had to do it. This is the source of the idea of מטמא טמאים ומטהר טהורים.

            Rabbi Soloveitchik said Teshuvah is a similar process. There are two methods of getting rid of sin and achieving forgiveness and atonement. One can apologize to friends and get forgiveness. One can say וידוי. And, quite frankly, the Teshuvah can only come from the person's initiative. God plays no role in the person's Teshuvah. This form of Teshuvah is what Rabbi Soloveitchik calls the all year kind of Teshuvah, the "mikveh-type" of Teshuvah. But there is an element of כפרה which eludes the individual's grasp. You need God to give the כפרה to you through the medium of יום כיפור. – this is the "haza'ah kind of Teshuvah- the sprinkling" which a person can't do alone. He needs help from someone else – in this case, God.

            Most importantly, Rabbi Soloveitchk says there are two methods of getting rid of sin because there are two ways that people sin. He brings a parable of a doctor treating an injury. The doctor needs to know why a person fell down the steps. Were they pushed? Did they trip over something? Or did they pass out or have a stroke?

            In the former case, they need to treat the injury, but there is no malady. In the latter case, the person's internals need a tremendous overhaul.

            One who sins, but who has a good excuse – yetzer hara got the better of me, my friends convinced me, I thought a little skimming off the top was harmless, can correct the behavior and do teshuvah.

            But a person who fundamentally doesn't see what is wrong with one's behavior needs an "uprooting of personality and a transformation of his central value system. For this," RJBS says, "one needs God."

            I want to focus on the kind of Teshuvah that needs God. If I can't fix the errors or mishaps, and I need to do a complete overhaul, how exactly can I achieve such an outcome?

            The Gemara gives two suggestions

תלמוד בבלי מסכת יומא דף פו עמוד ב

 אמר ריש לקיש: גדולה תשובה, שזדונות נעשות לו כשגגות, שנאמר +הושע יד+ שובה ישראל עד ה' אלהיך כי כשלת בעונך. הא עון מזיד הוא, וקא קרי ליה מכשול. איני? והאמר ריש לקיש: גדולה תשובה שזדונות נעשות לו כזכיות, שנאמר +יחזקאל לג+ ובשוב רשע מרשעתו ועשה משפט וצדקה עליהם (חיה) +מסורת הש"ס: [הוא]+ יחיה! - לא קשיא; כאן - מאהבה, כאן - מיראה

            Essentially, the gemara tells us, if a person repents out of fear, שזדונות נעשות לו כשגגות, and if a person repents מאהבה, out of love, שזדונות נעשות לו כזכיות.

            The first approach is understandable – they weren't "Really" on purpose. So Teshuvah can make them look accidental.  But how could sins committed במזיד be turned into merits? Say what you will but they are still SINS!

For this, we need to look to the Rambam. The Rambam says in The last chapter of Hilchos Teshuvah that the improper way to serve God is out of יראה – that I do what I do out of fear, to be saved from the curses. It is much better to serve God מאהבה – out of love.

            The Rambam describes what that kind of service of God is: Osek BTorah UbMitzvos, walking in the paths of wisdom, not on account of anything in the world, or out of fear of bad things which might happen, and not in order to inherit goodness, rather to seek truth because it is truth. And in the end, goodness will follow. This is the way of Avraham Avinu – about whom we read from the Torah on both days of RH -  whom God called אוהביו, because he served God out of pure love and dedication. This kind of love of God is described in the Shma - ואהבת את ה' אלהיך. And when a person loves God in this manner, he fulfills all the mitzvos out of love.

            Then the Rambam asks a unique question? כיצד? HOW does one love God in this manner?

וכיצד היא האהבה הראויה? הוא שיאהב את ה' אהבה גדולה יתירה עזה מאוד עד שתהא נפשו קשורה באהבת ה' ונמצא שוגה בה תמיד כאלו חולה חולי האהבה שאין דעתו פנויה מאהבת אותה אשה והוא שוגה בה תמיד בין בשבתו בין בקומו בין בשעה שהוא אוכל ושותה, יתר מזה תהיה אהבת ה' בלב אוהביו שוגים בה תמיד כמו שצונו בכל לבבך ובכל נפשך, והוא ששלמה אמר דרך משל כי חולת אהבה אני, וכל שיר השירים משל הוא לענין זה.

            The Rambam does not go into such detail as to how to fulfill a mitzvah in any other place.

            More poignantly, however, we can ask how come the Rambam goes into these details here – in Hilchos Teshuva? Wouldn't it be more appropriate to describe the mitzvah to love Hashem in the laws of יסודי התורה? What are they doing in Hilchos Teshuvah?

            Because the Rambam is teaching us how to do Teshuvah properly! He is teaching us how the מזידs become merits! When you can't eat, you can't drink, you can't sleep because you are so in love with God – the Teshuvah is complete and the sins are turned into merits! This kind of love is beyond the scope of the natural world. As such, the net result can be supernatural – sins can become merits!.

            The Slonimer Rebbe,  in his Nesivos Shalom, accents this point with the most profound insight. The Torah begins this section saying "והיה כי יבאו עליך כל הדברים האלה הברכה והקללה" – in other words the blessing and the curse will come upon you. Then – והשבות אל לבבך – you will reflect on it in your heart, ושבת עד ה אלקיך – and then you will return to God. How could you return to God if the curse has come upon you?

            Says the Nesivos Shalom, "When a Jew loves God as a lovesick lover – חולי אהבה – there is no difference between a ברכה and a קללה. Whatever God sends a person's way, the person takes the message and fulfills the message of והשבות אל לבבך… When a person is at such a level of love, anything which comes his way comes in the form of God saying שובה אלי ואשובה אליכם and שובה ישראל עד ה אלקיך. You reflect on it in your heart, and love God even more.

            The goal of Teshuvah is to create a new person. I'm no longer the person who sinned. The verse the Rambam quotes from Shir Hashirim is

שיר השירים פרק ה

 אִם תִּמְצְאוּ אֶת דּוֹדִי מַה תַּגִּידוּ לוֹ שֶׁחוֹלַת אַהֲבָה אָנִי: - If you find my beloved, what will you tell him, - that I am lovesick. In other words - I am not the same person, I am lovesick.

 The pasuk in Nitzavim said

דברים פרק ל

 אִם יִהְיֶה נִדַּחֲךָ בִּקְצֵה הַשָּׁמָיִם מִשָּׁם יְקַבֶּצְךָ יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ וּמִשָּׁם יִקָּחֶךָ:

Even if your diaspora is at the ends of the heavens, God your Lord will gather you up from there and He will take you back.

When you're thrown to the ends of the earth, and it takes a very long journey to make your way back, you're not the same person. You can't be the same person. The adventures you've had along the way, the encounters, the experiences, have molded and shaped you into a new person, one informed by history and street-smarts and נסיון – experience. You've been there, done that. You know your life is in the hands of God, so you make a commitment.

 דברים פרק ל

 וְשַׁבְתָּ עַד יְקֹוָק אֱלֹהֶיךָ וְשָׁמַעְתָּ בְקֹלוֹ כְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוְּךָ הַיּוֹם אַתָּה וּבָנֶיךָ בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשֶׁךָ:

            As you return to God, you listen to his קול, His Voice. And today, the קול is the קול שופר, which, as the Rambam writes, is a wake up call. It's the voice of God calling from whatever a person is going through.  It’s a reminder to leave behind the sins and to forge forward as we each become a new person.

            When we achieve משם יקבצך ה אלקיך – that God gathers you up from your most distant place, we also achieve ומשם יקחך, that He takes us anew.

            This is the goal of Teshuva. This is the goal of Rosh Hashana. This is the goal of the יום הדין. That we judge ourselves and conclude that we no longer want to be the people we were until now. We want a new chance, a new life, to become a new person. We want to be able to love God wholly and completely. We want to be able to see that both the ברכה – which is easy – AND the קללה – which is much harder – is from God. And we want to love him all the same!

            Let the sound of the Shofar uplift us all. Let it penetrate the deepest depths of our souls. Let it shake us to our core. Let it herald for each of us the cry of battle – the battlecry that we channel within ourselves.

            That we can let go of any ego. That we can shift our focus to fulfill the words that we so diligently say every day – ואהבת את ה אלקיך בכל לבבך ובכל נפשך ובכל מאדך. Teshuvah does not only mean repenting. It meant RETURNING. Returning to God, as the lovesick people we are, who are having a reunion with our beloved.

            Just like most who חלילה become estranged from their parents would be welcomed with open arms if they would only knock on the door, we are always welcome if we choose to return to God. If we can truly love God with all hearts, souls and מאד, we become new people, with a new purpose. And, according to the gemara, our sins become merits.

            Let us pray that we can achieve this. Let us pray that God can give us the strength to serve Him in such a manner. That we can look past all the things we raise eyebrows to, and all the things we are cynical of, and all the things we mock. Let us flip the switch so that every task we undertake and everything which happens to us can all be seen as stemming from the mutual love that exists between father and child, between Creator and His Creations.

            If we can do this, I am confident that not only will we be blessed with a good year, but our lives will be enriched as our spirituality soars, as the totality of the focus of our existence becomes one guided by my love of God.

            What drives my going to shul? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            What drives my eating and bentching habits? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            Why do I work? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            Why do I keep shabbos? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            Why do I treat my spouse with the utmost respect? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            How do I know how to relate best to my children? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            How do I know how to fulfill כיבוד אב ואם – which can be fulfilled whether parents are alive or no longer alive? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            What guides my choices in life, my tzedakah giving, my proper usage of time? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            Why do I exercise? Why do I engage in sport? Why do I read? Why do I learn? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            What makes me a good friend that people look to and admire? What makes me a mentsch? What makes me a model citizen? ואהבת את ה אלקיך

            It's the answer to everything. It is the key to תשובה. It is what makes and creates the "New Me." It is the secret ingredient to the most fulfilling life.