Parshat Chayei Sarah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Every year, Shabbos Chayei Sarah is accompanied by a special Jewish gathering in Hevron, the “City of the Patriarchs.” The source for this epithet is our parsha, in which we find Avraham purchasing the “field, and the cave which is in it” to serve as an “acquisition” and a burial plot for his family.
There is a strange verse which begs for explanation that describes the moment after the purchase is finalized. “Ephron's field in Makhpelah adjoining Mamre arose. [This included] the field, its cave, and every tree in the field, within its entire circumference.” (23:17)
The word which is odd is “arose” – in Hebrew, “Vayakam” – and it appears again in 23:20.
The Midrash Aggadah takes a very literal angle, claiming the land was literally elevated ½ a cubit so it would be recognizably distinguished from the other fields.
One can argue that this is the most plausible explanation. After all, every time the word “Vayakam” appears in the Torah, it means “And he got up.” Usually the person described is going somewhere or heading to do something.
However, since we are talking about a piece of land that is not moving, and despite the Midrash’s creative solution, as there is no indication of an earthquake happening in the Torah at this moment, we have to try to find a more suitable way to explain this word.
Showing posts with label Promised Land. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Promised Land. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Friday, July 17, 2015
Respectful Objections - Choosing Our Words Carefully
Parshat MATOT-Masei
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Ever since the blessing given to the Tribe of Gad by Yaakov in the middle of Parshat Vaychi, Gad has been considered to be the greatest soldier, and set of soldiers, known to Israel.
So well known is this fact, that every image for Gad that I have ever seen in artwork depicting the tribes always has Gad represented as field-tents or soldiers. No other tribe shares such a distinction.
When the tribes of Reuven and Gad, who traveled together (along with the recently-devastated tribe of Shimon) in the wilderness come to Moshe in Chapter 32 asking to settle in the land conquered from Sichon and Og, their request does not seem that odd. If, after all, they had led the troops in battle against those enemies, they may have been the first to observe and take note of the topography, to determine this land would mean a great economic boom for their tribes.
They list the particular lands and cities they want, explaining that they want to put roots here for “[in] the land that God struck down before the Israelite community is livestock land - and what we have is livestock.'” (32:4)
This is not crazy. They see an opportunity, so they want to capitalize on it. They know it is very close to the Promised Land. And yet, they say, “If you would grant us a favor, let this land be given to us as our permanent property, and do not bring us across the Jordan.” (32:5)
There are different ways to understand their request. Are they saying they don’t want to go across the Jordan at all? Or are they saying they don’t want to shlep their families along? Do they make any mention of what role they intend to play or not play on the coming battlefield? Do they indicate any scorn for the Promised Land? As a matter of fact, these questions are not addressed at all.
Instead, Moshe goes on a 10-verse tirade about how they’re committing the same sin as the spies and the people of that generation who revolted against the Land. Arguably the only legitimate response Moshe has is a fair concern: “Moses said to the descendants of Gad and Reuven, 'Why should your brothers go out and fight while you stay here?’” (32:6)
We can skip to their response in 32:16-19 when they completely ignore all of Moshe’s comments, responding only to the one about serving at the battlefront. “[The Reubenites and Gaddites] approached [Moses] and said, 'We will build enclosures for our sheep here and cities for our children. But we will then arm ourselves and go as an advance guard before the [other] Israelites, [fighting] until we have brought them to their homeland. Because of the area's inhabitants, our children will remain in fortified cities, but we ourselves will not return home until every Israelite has taken possession of his hereditary property. We, however, will not take possession with them on the far side of the Jordan, since our inheritance shall come to us on the Jordan's eastern bank.'”
In other words: “You are right, Moshe. We do not intend to leave our brothers to fight their battles alone. We will be there as well. But we don’t want our families and animals to be waiting in limbo for however long these battles will take. As far as all your concerns of our hate for the Land, on par with those of the spies, we will not even dignify them with a response.”
Was Moshe right or wrong here? Did he discern something that was there, or something that wasn’t there? Were the Reuvenites and Gadites only selfish, or were they practical? Did they denigrate the Land? Were they looking to abandon the rest of the Israelite nation? Or were they always intending to join for the battles, and perhaps they merely neglected to mention such plans?
Perhaps we’ll never know the answers to these questions.
But I wonder how things would have turned out if Moshe had ended his response in 32:6 – asking about their plans to participate in battles – rather than waxing poetic about their hatred-of-the-land on par with that of the spies’?
I like to think the message would have come across, and their clarification, very much to the point, would have also been brief and concise.
This is a flaw we have when we judge people based on either preconceived notions, or if we apply our own experiences to a similar but different circumstance in which we are currently involved.
“I know the score. This happens all the time.” “Every time I’ve seen this, it always ends out the same.” “Anyone who has ever done this has been untrustworthy, or has given up before completing the job. You’ll be no different.”
How do we know? How can we judge people without hearing them out, or without giving them a chance? Just because others have been one way, or have failed, does not mean everyone will. And from another perspective, just because someone has been successful in the past does not mean the person will be the God-send being sought.
Open communication, clarification, and giving people a chance are some of the ingredients that make the thrill of life more navigable for all. Will things be perfect, always? No. And anyone who thinks it will be is at best naïve.
But our life is one lived with others, and we have to do our best to include others, share concerns for ourselves and for others, and do what we can to help others through their struggles, as we hope they will help us through ours’.
And if we can be blessed to not be so judgmental, and not to project our own insecurities on others, maybe we’ll never have to be the people who are the recipients of “I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response” because we will have selected our words carefully in the first place.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Ever since the blessing given to the Tribe of Gad by Yaakov in the middle of Parshat Vaychi, Gad has been considered to be the greatest soldier, and set of soldiers, known to Israel.
So well known is this fact, that every image for Gad that I have ever seen in artwork depicting the tribes always has Gad represented as field-tents or soldiers. No other tribe shares such a distinction.
When the tribes of Reuven and Gad, who traveled together (along with the recently-devastated tribe of Shimon) in the wilderness come to Moshe in Chapter 32 asking to settle in the land conquered from Sichon and Og, their request does not seem that odd. If, after all, they had led the troops in battle against those enemies, they may have been the first to observe and take note of the topography, to determine this land would mean a great economic boom for their tribes.
They list the particular lands and cities they want, explaining that they want to put roots here for “[in] the land that God struck down before the Israelite community is livestock land - and what we have is livestock.'” (32:4)
This is not crazy. They see an opportunity, so they want to capitalize on it. They know it is very close to the Promised Land. And yet, they say, “If you would grant us a favor, let this land be given to us as our permanent property, and do not bring us across the Jordan.” (32:5)
There are different ways to understand their request. Are they saying they don’t want to go across the Jordan at all? Or are they saying they don’t want to shlep their families along? Do they make any mention of what role they intend to play or not play on the coming battlefield? Do they indicate any scorn for the Promised Land? As a matter of fact, these questions are not addressed at all.
Instead, Moshe goes on a 10-verse tirade about how they’re committing the same sin as the spies and the people of that generation who revolted against the Land. Arguably the only legitimate response Moshe has is a fair concern: “Moses said to the descendants of Gad and Reuven, 'Why should your brothers go out and fight while you stay here?’” (32:6)
We can skip to their response in 32:16-19 when they completely ignore all of Moshe’s comments, responding only to the one about serving at the battlefront. “[The Reubenites and Gaddites] approached [Moses] and said, 'We will build enclosures for our sheep here and cities for our children. But we will then arm ourselves and go as an advance guard before the [other] Israelites, [fighting] until we have brought them to their homeland. Because of the area's inhabitants, our children will remain in fortified cities, but we ourselves will not return home until every Israelite has taken possession of his hereditary property. We, however, will not take possession with them on the far side of the Jordan, since our inheritance shall come to us on the Jordan's eastern bank.'”
In other words: “You are right, Moshe. We do not intend to leave our brothers to fight their battles alone. We will be there as well. But we don’t want our families and animals to be waiting in limbo for however long these battles will take. As far as all your concerns of our hate for the Land, on par with those of the spies, we will not even dignify them with a response.”
Was Moshe right or wrong here? Did he discern something that was there, or something that wasn’t there? Were the Reuvenites and Gadites only selfish, or were they practical? Did they denigrate the Land? Were they looking to abandon the rest of the Israelite nation? Or were they always intending to join for the battles, and perhaps they merely neglected to mention such plans?
Perhaps we’ll never know the answers to these questions.
But I wonder how things would have turned out if Moshe had ended his response in 32:6 – asking about their plans to participate in battles – rather than waxing poetic about their hatred-of-the-land on par with that of the spies’?
I like to think the message would have come across, and their clarification, very much to the point, would have also been brief and concise.
This is a flaw we have when we judge people based on either preconceived notions, or if we apply our own experiences to a similar but different circumstance in which we are currently involved.
“I know the score. This happens all the time.” “Every time I’ve seen this, it always ends out the same.” “Anyone who has ever done this has been untrustworthy, or has given up before completing the job. You’ll be no different.”
How do we know? How can we judge people without hearing them out, or without giving them a chance? Just because others have been one way, or have failed, does not mean everyone will. And from another perspective, just because someone has been successful in the past does not mean the person will be the God-send being sought.
Open communication, clarification, and giving people a chance are some of the ingredients that make the thrill of life more navigable for all. Will things be perfect, always? No. And anyone who thinks it will be is at best naïve.
But our life is one lived with others, and we have to do our best to include others, share concerns for ourselves and for others, and do what we can to help others through their struggles, as we hope they will help us through ours’.
And if we can be blessed to not be so judgmental, and not to project our own insecurities on others, maybe we’ll never have to be the people who are the recipients of “I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response” because we will have selected our words carefully in the first place.
Friday, May 27, 2011
The Incredible Human Spirit
B'Midbar
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are seven instances in the Torah when a tally of the army-age males is given to us. Twice they are rounded to "600,000 foot soldiers" (Shmot 12:37 and Bamidbar 11:21). The first three times they are counted to more exact specifications, first with the half-shekel (38:26) and twice in our parsha (1:46 and 2:32), the census result is 603,550. The last two "exact numbers" are: 601,730 (Bamidbar 26:51) and "none missing from that count" (Bamidbar 31:49).
While the fact that the two censuses in our parsha return the same numbers is not surprising, the fact that they are the same as the census at the end of the book of Shmot is quite surprising.
Since Vayikra began on the first of Nissan, and Bamidbar begins on the first of Iyar, we can suggest equal numbers are on account of a minimal passage of time.
And yet, we know that people die every day. Certainly individuals between age 20 to 60 died during that month. Nadav and Avihu died. The blasphemer presumably died (the Meshekh Chokhmah points out that the Torah does not say that "he died" in Vayikra 24:23, but it is pretty clear that he did).
There is a discussion in the Midrash Eichah Rabba as to how many people died during the years in the desert. Was it 15,000 per year? Was it 15,000 plus a little? Did the numbers fluctuate year to year? Did only 60 year-olds perish, or did people get to live longer, even though the exodus generation were all destined to die in the desert? The Ritva on Baba Batra 121a explores all the particulars, recognizing that the arguments only become relevant after the incident with the spies (Bamidbar 13-14), when the forty-years decree is made.
In our parsha, we are still a few months before that episode.
I believe this is the explanation for why there is no discrepancy in the censuses of 603,550.
Until the incident of the spies, the path of the Israelite nation was to march to the land of Canaan, to take it over as per God's promise and command, and to build a temple in the "place that God will choose" (Devarim 12).
With a mishap here and there, God surely foresaw what would transpire and knew the numbers would somehow remain balanced because 603,550 was supposed to be the size of the army conquering the land – no more and no less.
Once the setbacks begin in Bamidbar 11 and culminate with the spies three chapters later, the natural order of the world could continue. 24,000 die in Bamidbar 25:9, and yet the difference in numbers from our parsha to the census that takes place one chapter after that plague, (around 38 years after the original census) is a little less than 2,000 people.
The ways of God are unknown to us, but the power of the human spirit is something we see very often. Sometimes doctors will give a person a limited amount of time to live, only to see the person defy the medical textbooks, and then some.
Sometimes a marriage of 5 or 6 decades ends with a death, and a perfectly healthy widow or widower dies shortly thereafter, having wanted only to "be with" the spouse who passed first.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are seven instances in the Torah when a tally of the army-age males is given to us. Twice they are rounded to "600,000 foot soldiers" (Shmot 12:37 and Bamidbar 11:21). The first three times they are counted to more exact specifications, first with the half-shekel (38:26) and twice in our parsha (1:46 and 2:32), the census result is 603,550. The last two "exact numbers" are: 601,730 (Bamidbar 26:51) and "none missing from that count" (Bamidbar 31:49).
While the fact that the two censuses in our parsha return the same numbers is not surprising, the fact that they are the same as the census at the end of the book of Shmot is quite surprising.
Since Vayikra began on the first of Nissan, and Bamidbar begins on the first of Iyar, we can suggest equal numbers are on account of a minimal passage of time.
And yet, we know that people die every day. Certainly individuals between age 20 to 60 died during that month. Nadav and Avihu died. The blasphemer presumably died (the Meshekh Chokhmah points out that the Torah does not say that "he died" in Vayikra 24:23, but it is pretty clear that he did).
There is a discussion in the Midrash Eichah Rabba as to how many people died during the years in the desert. Was it 15,000 per year? Was it 15,000 plus a little? Did the numbers fluctuate year to year? Did only 60 year-olds perish, or did people get to live longer, even though the exodus generation were all destined to die in the desert? The Ritva on Baba Batra 121a explores all the particulars, recognizing that the arguments only become relevant after the incident with the spies (Bamidbar 13-14), when the forty-years decree is made.
In our parsha, we are still a few months before that episode.
I believe this is the explanation for why there is no discrepancy in the censuses of 603,550.
Until the incident of the spies, the path of the Israelite nation was to march to the land of Canaan, to take it over as per God's promise and command, and to build a temple in the "place that God will choose" (Devarim 12).
With a mishap here and there, God surely foresaw what would transpire and knew the numbers would somehow remain balanced because 603,550 was supposed to be the size of the army conquering the land – no more and no less.
Once the setbacks begin in Bamidbar 11 and culminate with the spies three chapters later, the natural order of the world could continue. 24,000 die in Bamidbar 25:9, and yet the difference in numbers from our parsha to the census that takes place one chapter after that plague, (around 38 years after the original census) is a little less than 2,000 people.
The ways of God are unknown to us, but the power of the human spirit is something we see very often. Sometimes doctors will give a person a limited amount of time to live, only to see the person defy the medical textbooks, and then some.
Sometimes a marriage of 5 or 6 decades ends with a death, and a perfectly healthy widow or widower dies shortly thereafter, having wanted only to "be with" the spouse who passed first.
While I cannot account for how individuals did not enter the 20-year-old zone, I imagine that those Israelites who experienced the Exodus and wanted only to see the Promised Land were able to mobilize the incredible human spirit to delay the course of how things "might have been."
In this week following our president's flip-flop in his hopes for Israel, and the aftermath of a strong AIPAC conference, let us hope that the human spirit of our people and the State of Israel will retain its resolve to see the Promised Land for what God promised it would be in good times (in last week's parsha Vayikra 26:3-13): a land where the rain falls and the crops grow, where you can live securely without the sword passing through. Where a minimal army will easily defeat a multitude of enemies, who will be chased away and fall by the sword if they choose to fight. Where our numbers will only grow, and God's sanctuary will forever be in our midst.
In this week following our president's flip-flop in his hopes for Israel, and the aftermath of a strong AIPAC conference, let us hope that the human spirit of our people and the State of Israel will retain its resolve to see the Promised Land for what God promised it would be in good times (in last week's parsha Vayikra 26:3-13): a land where the rain falls and the crops grow, where you can live securely without the sword passing through. Where a minimal army will easily defeat a multitude of enemies, who will be chased away and fall by the sword if they choose to fight. Where our numbers will only grow, and God's sanctuary will forever be in our midst.
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