To Live In The Promised Land, At Peace With the Neighbors

Parshat Balak

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A larger view of the Torah provides the context through which we can see how the Biblical Israelites were meant to relate to their neighbors living in the lands within and surrounding the Promised Land. (Bereishit 15:7)

Egypt was the land in which Abraham’s descendants were to be “strangers in a strange land” (Bereishit 15:13). It was also the land to which kings were forbidden to return the nation. (Devarim 17:16) The lands east of the Jordan River (Saudi Arabia and Jordan) were occupied by Edom/Seir, Midian, Moav, Emori, and Bashan respectively. Each of them was given the opportunity to allow the Israelites to pass freely through to the Jordan River, where the intended crossing into the Land was to take place. For reference: Edom – Bamidbar 20:14-19 (refused in verse 21); Emori – Bamidbar 21:21-22, attacked in verse 23; Bashan – didn’t wait for the request, but attacked the Israelites in Bamidbar 21:33.

In the case of Moav, the Torah tells us they had already been conquered by Sichon (Bamidbar 21:26), and perhaps the defeat of Sichon freed them from his oppression. We are told in Devarim 2:8-9 that the people of Edom and Moav were untouchables, owing to Edom being descendants of Eisav and Moav being descendants of Lot. It was only the defeat of Moav at the hands of Sichon, and their land no longer belonging to Moav that allowed the Israelites to conquer that land.

Even the Gaza area, historically owned by the Phillistines since the time of Avimelech King of Gerar, was untouchable to the Israelites on account of the peace treaty that had been made in the time of Abraham (Bereshit 21:22-34). Similarly, lands further east of the areas previously mentioned were also not in the realm of Israelite conquest on account of the treaty made between Lavan and Yaakov (Bereshit 31:51-54), and the line they made that each was not to cross.

As for the seven nations living in the Land, God declared they were unworthy of maintaining their presence there on account of their idolatrous practices and immorality. (see Devarim 7:1-2, Devarim 20:16-18, Yehoshua 3:10 and other places) Despite what the biblical text says, they were given the option to leave, as the Girgashi did, or to accept Israel’s authority (see last Tosafot on Sotah 35b), and had they done so, there would have been peace in the land since time immemorial. Even cities further out of these areas were to be given the option of accepting Israel’s authority, and had they done so they would have been spared of the sword. (Devarim 20:10-11)

We can also note that had Israel been deserving of staying in the land, they never would have been exiled.

All of this points to the idea that, while ancient Israel were certainly given one-time instructions to wipe out certain nations, the peaceful offer was always to be put on the table first. In many cases, such as Emori, Bashan, Moav, Midian, Jericho, Ai, as well as all the nations of Canaan (see Yehoshua 9:1-2), they chose to attack Israel. When your nation attacks, they become subject to a counter-offensive, which in ancient times often translated to a complete annihilation. Think about the aims and goals of the nation of Amalek, and what became the mantra towards Amalek which we still recall to this day (Shmot 17:14, Devarim 25:19), and was actually acted upon by King Saul (Samuel I 15) and David (Samuel I 30).

All of mainstream Jewry today does not subscribe to ancient rules of genocide. Any Biblical mandates of such were for a specific time, a single time, and never had any bearing beyond that time period. We may all find it troubling, just as, hopefully, contemporary Christians and Muslims do not subscribe to the horrific deeds perpetrated by their co-religionists over the last 2000 years. In an age of modernity, the civilized world has embraced coexistence and rejected the “accept my way or die” offer of bygone times.

In our parsha, we see that Moav (of the Lot family) and Midian (as easily represented by Moshe’s father-in-law Yitro) chose to attack the Israelites before even hearing an offer. Their efforts to destroy Israel from within forced Israel to take revenge against Midian (see Bamidbar 31).

The Middle East is a very large swath of land, which has room for many groups. Were each group to look at itself and say, “Let us make the best living conditions for ourselves. Let us grow our economy. Let us provide for ourselves. Let us make something of ourselves,” while at the same time realizing that war and fighting is beneficial to no one, it would be incredible to see what could come from putting down weapons.

In Solomon’s days, peace reigned in the Land. If Israel is not attacked, if Israel is simply respected and allowed to live their lives in peace, there would be no fighting, because Israel – from ancient Biblical times – has only wanted to live in the Promised Land in fulfillments of God’s vow to Abraham of “To your children I have given this land.”

Whenever they were not attacked, they had no reason to fight on the offensive or to defend themselves. (There were exceptions in ancient times, either for "Milchemet Mitzvah" or for expansion of land purposes (a common practice of many ancient nations) - but these were uncommon events)

And that is what the modern State of Israel would like to see today: neighbors who are happy to live as neighbors, who have no desire to destroy Israel’s rights to her Ancestral Land.

The "Holy" Aspect of Jewish Peoplehood

Parshat Nitzavim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The biggest news story of the week (other than the Iran deal) was about a clerk in Kentucky who has a fundamentalist viewpoint on understanding the Bible.

 Regardless of one’s view of the story, some of the reaction I have seen in social media includes a clip from the West Wing, in which Martin Sheen’s character asks a similar-minded (to the Kentucky clerk) person a series of questions asking if certain fundamentalist views of stoning and putting to death from the Bible ought to also be listened to since “they’re in the Bible.”

 Watching this narrative play out, I am grateful not only that the Torah was given to the Jewish people – and not to people who understand it on its surface level – but that we also have an oral tradition that helps us understand the parts of the Torah that are difficult to understand. We know that the death penalty, for example, was hardly ever carried out because of our abhorrence of violence, as well as all the technicalities that otherwise prevent a death sentence being issued.

 We know that the Torah’s rules were given to the Jewish people, and with the exception of the Noahide laws, they are not binding on people of other faiths.

 People of faiths that do not observe Rosh Hashana this Sunday night (Bamidbar 29:1) don’t have to follow the rules of kosher eating, or Sabbath, or any other laws that were established in God’s Torah for the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov.

 And this point is established very clearly in the fourth verse of our parsha, when Moshe reminds the people that they are being brought into the covenant, “He is establishing you as His nation, so that He will be a God to you, just as He promised you, and as He swore to your ancestors, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.”

 A simple question could be asked. Why is this wonderful promise of a covenant with God prefaced by the terrible rebuke of chapter 28? Why is there so much warning and punishment facing this nation, especially if God loved the forefathers and wants their descendants to be His special nation?

 In the Or HaChaim’s view, the answer is really quite simple. If you know the repercussions of your deeds, and how devastating they can be, you’ll have no interest in rebelling against His Godliness. You will always maintain the connection with Him.

 Or HaChaim offers a second reason as well. There is a reason that God wants this nation. Because at this point, under Moshe’s leadership, the nation is identified as an “Am Kadosh,” a holy nation. This nation, the descendants of God’s beloved Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, have the capacity to achieve a holiness that is unmatched in God’s eyes, by any other nation.

 Using the language Yosef uses to explain to his brothers why his being sold to Egypt was actually good, Or HaChaim suggests that the rebuke’s strong language is merely to affirm for Israel that they are God’s nation. Without the Rebuke, one day a person will commit a mild infraction and the next day he’ll commit a severe one, and each slip will take Israelites away from being the “Adat HaKedusha” – the community of Holiness. 

The message Or HaChaim concludes with is that we must look out for one another to create a communal mind that prevents sinning. This is what helps us create a nation of destiny. And this, he explains, is only for our own good, to help us survive as a people.

 It is a shame that too often what unites us is tragedy and suffering. How many people were numbed by the terrible car crash in the Catskills on Monday, that took the lives of three wonderful people?

 We have our Torah, we learn it, we study it, we connect with it in the deepest of ways. And we must connect with our fellow religionists, not only in times of tragedy, but also in good times, when the spirit all around is upbeat.

 We all have different views of the world, and there are times when we disagree. But the lesson we can take at this time of year is that we have so much more in common than not. And our commonality begins with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and ends in the place we all agree to tap into our shared experiences as their descendants.

 The more united we are, the more holiness we can achieve. It is our learning and our dedication to what we do that helps us become this holy nation, through proper understanding of the Torah and through the actions that define who we are.

Distinction Between Peoples

Parshat Va'era

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

In his "Living Torah," Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan summarized the many options of what the 4th plague may have been, based on Midrash and commentaries: Flies (Rabbi Nechemiah), wild animals (Rabbi Yehuda) (Sh'moth Rabbah 11:4) (based on a literal reading of Psalms 78:11); dog-flies (Septuagint); blood-suckers (Philo); mixture of insects and snakes (Sefer HaYashar); Beetles (scarab or dung beetle); wolves (Rashbam), panthers, eagles or other birds (Midrash Tehillim 78:45); giant squid (Midrash Aggadah). 

 In the warning before the plague of "Arov," Moshe tells the King of Egypt, "On that day, I will miraculously set apart the Goshen area, where My people remain, so that there will not be any Arov there. I will therefore make a distinction between My people and your people." (8:18-19) If Goshen will be set apart, why is there a need to make a distinction between God's people and the Egyptian people? 

 Because even if Israelites are not in Goshen, they will not be affected by the Arov. Targum Yonatan summarizes the idea: While the [animals or flies or beetles] are annoying Egyptians, the Israelites will not be bothered. 

 Rashi and Rashbam use the terms "yavdil" and "havdalah" to describe the distinction that will take place between the two nations. 

 The Baal HaTurim focuses on the three times the word "p'doot" (which I have translated as "distinction") appears in the Bible. The other 2 times it is spelled with the vowel-letter Vov (פדות), while this time it is written without that letter-vowel (פדת) – the vowel is the three-dotted-diagonal slant which provides the "oo" sound. The word, which can also mean "redemption" is considered to be incomplete here because the redemption from Egypt was incomplete – either because it was followed by other exiles (Rabbenu Bachaye), or because many Jews died during the plague of Darkness (R Chaim Paltiel) and never experienced redemption. 

 The Baal HaTurim describes the redemption from Egypt as complete when it actually happens – but not at this time (during Arov). The complete "p'doot" (with a "vov") is in Tehillim 111:9 – referring to the redemption from Egypt – while the next "complete p'doot" will take place in the future, as described in Tehillim 130:7. 

 We certainly hope and pray for the complete "p'doot" to take place speedily in our days. Until that time, I find the sentence that speaks of the "p'doot" in the plague of Arov to be quite compelling, especially when viewed by itself – out of context: "I will therefore make a distinction between My people and your people." 

 There has always been, and I guess there will always be, a distinction between My people (the Children of Israel) and your people. 

 Why is anti-Semitism on the rise in Europe? Why is the Arab-Muslim propaganda machine so focused on vilifying the Jew? Why does a Jew building a house in Jerusalem cause so much friction? Why does the subject of Israel raise so much anger – why are people around the world so anti-Israel, one of the smallest countries, with one of the smallest populations in the civilized world? Why is the word "Jew" sometimes used derogatively – as a verb (to 'jew someone') or as an adjective (a 'jew lawyer')? Because the Jew, by his very existence, is distinct. 

 I do not believe in Jewish exceptionalism. There are many ways to interpret the idea of being the "chosen" people, and the approach I favor is "chosen to represent God on this earth" as well as "chosen to bear responsibility as a moral compass." [See the Wikipedia entry on "Jews as the chosen people" for different perspectives on this subject. And read "Why the Jews?" by Dennis Prager and Joseph Telushkin to understand the history of and reasons for the existence of anti-Semitism.] 

 Nonetheless, the Children of Israel as a distinct unit, with membership being multi-faceted – a national element, a religious element, and passed through birth; a group defined by both a homeland and Holy Land; and a feeling of brotherhood which surpasses nationalities, political differences and even language – this is the blessing of being distinct. 

 And distinction should never lead to extinction. 

 God was so intent on demonstrating His power to the Egyptians, He was going to demonstrate how a swarm of dog-flies could distinguish between slave and taskmaster, or how attacking animals (whether wolves, snakes, or wild animals, etc.) could pick out Egyptians vs. slaves. 

 This difference was cemented at Sinai when the Jewish people received the Torah and became the keepers of God's Word on this Earth. It does not make anyone a superior human being, for it is one's deeds that are honored, and one's life-choices that determine who is a role-model for all. 

 But the distinction began with Shmot 4:22 when God said, "You shall tell Paroh that my oldest, my first born, is Israel." All of humanity are God's children. And just as every family can only have one first-born, Israel is considered God's first-born. And the first-born has responsibilities. The first born can mess up and can suffer the consequences or the first born can earn the honorifics that come with the natural spot as leader of the family. 

 God made the distinction between His people who had suffered, and Paroh's people, who had caused all the suffering. 

 Distinct does not mean better – but it can mean "different." And it can refer to a group others can either learn from or ignore. God made the distinction between peoples – may we merit to best represent our role, for the betterment of mankind.

The Deed in the Desert

Parshat Balak

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 At the beginning of Chapter 24, the Torah informs us of Bilaam's third attempt to curse the Israelites – which will once again turn into a blessing, in this case the most famous of the three. "When Bilaam realized that God desired to bless Israel, he did not seek out the occult forces ("nechashim") as he had done before. Instead, he set his gaze toward the desert. When Bilaam raised his eyes, and saw Israel dwelling at peace by tribes, God's spirit was on him."

 The word used to describe the occult, Bilaam's source of strength, is "nechashim" – which Ramban and others take to literally mean "snakes." Bilaam had intended to cause snakes to come attack the Israelites. Rashi and others say that "nechashim" refers to Bilaam's unique ability to divine when the occult forces were in his favor. On this last attempt however, he saw his own tricks would not work, so he looked to the desert.

 If he looked to see if the snakes curse would work (Ramban) – looking to the desert would send him to last week's parsha, when a plague of snakes was defeated through the creation of the copper serpent which was visible to all.

 If his divination skills were of no use (Rashi), why was he looking to the desert? Rashi said on the previous phrase (on "nechashim") that Bilaam's intent was to recall their sins, such that his curse could fall upon the remembered sin. And the sin? Rashi says, in one word, what it was – and why Bilaam needed to look to the desert.

 Rashi, in a typical example of the brilliance of his simplicity, says, "K'targumo," which means – look at the explanation of Targum. Targum Onkelos, Targum Yerushalmi and Targum Yonatan all say, "He looked to the desert to remember the (Golden) Calf, and the sin they had committed there."

 The Targum Yonatan goes on, in the second verse of the chapter, to describe what he saw now, as "Israel dwelled at peace by tribes." He quotes the same Midrash Rashi quotes about how the openings of their tents did not face one another, so there was privacy, but he adds that when they dwelled by tribes, they were "in their houses of study."

 With one word, Rashi told us "I might have my own feelings on this, but what you need to see is what Targum says about this." And unlike the many commentators who quote Rashi in full and then either choose to agree, disagree, or explain their own understanding of what Rashi meant, Rashi just passes the source along.

Rashi may have been referring specifically to Onkelos, but I like to think he was giving the credit to all the Targums. Because the lesson we see from the Targum Yonatan goes a step beyond just plain modest living, which is hopefully a universal concept all citizens of the world might appreciate.

 Targum Yonatan says they were engaged in Torah study, which is a level of greatness Bilaam could not comprehend in the slightest, or even attempt to understand or appreciate. And it was the antidote to what Bilaam saw as being the desert-downfall of the people.

 But the lesson is a profound one. Bilaam wanted to attack the Israelites for a sin done by the current generation's parents, 39 years earlier, for which the nation had been punished, had achieved atonement, and from which, as much as possible, they had moved on. Not only were they way past it, but they were currently engaged in Torah study, a sure sign that the sin of the Golden Calf episode was not part of who the people before him were.

 Whether it's a political campaign or just the way we relate to people we know, we cannot define people solely by their past deeds.

 Some people don't change, they're still doing the same thing (just in an older version of their past), their influences from their formative years still resonate strongly in defining who they are. And if they haven't changed, perhaps there is room to allow for treating them based on past impressions, if they are confirmed in the here and now.

 But some people do change, even dramatically, over time. They do allow positive influences to effect change in them, and they work hard to become better, more wholesome people. And to judge them based on their past alone would be completely out of line – we need to see what they are doing in the here and now. Bilaam saw the people in their Batei Midrash – which meant nothing to him – and he still saw the Golden Calf. He judged the children based on their parents, not realizing that the children were not only a different generation, but were their own individuals and communities.

 In today's media-driven age, it is a Herculean task to hide from one's past. Those who try often fail, no thanks to the internet and newspapers. But those who seek to move on from past foibles do best when they face and embrace their past and make it clear that the experiences of yesteryear "are part of what made me who I am. Here is where I learned from a mistake, and here is how I grew from that setback."

 And if, unlike Bilaam, we can learn to see that over 40 years, people might change and become more impressive, and certainly are not carbon copies of their parents (though in many case, being a carbon copy would not be a bad thing!), our overall experience with other people can be more fulfilling and more gratifying as we cross paths with others time and time again, each in our own journey through life.