Honoring Parents Forever

Parshat Kedoshim 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

Chapter 20 verse 9 contains a mitzvah that seems to be a repeat from Shmot 21:17 that addresses the punishment to be placed upon one who curses one’s parents.

The various Midrashic comments on the verse in Shmot note that our verse in Kedoshim serves to clarify some of the nuances of the law, such as that a person is in violation of the law not only on the occasion of cursing both parents (which seems to be the implication in Shmot), but even if one curses one or the other. Another clarification from our parsha is in the death penalty that is included in the verse: stoning. [An understanding of Biblical death sentences is beyond the scope of this discussion.]

The Midrash and some commentaries – in both verses – note that the prohibition is only on cursing one’s parents, but not on cursing one’s grandparents. Of course, one might suggest that the reason the prohibition doesn’t extend that far is because a person would never have the need to curse one’s grandparents.

Of course, a person should never have the need to curse one’s parents, but we are all familiar with circumstances that have unfortunately ruined a relationship between parent and child.

In my school years, I was acquainted with some kids whose parents had either been through a very difficult divorce, and one case in which the father still hadn’t given the mother a get after many years of separation. These young men I knew had zero respect for their father, and were probably in violation of this mitzvah – for understandable reasons.

Hopefully people can be given the strength to never bring their relationship with their children to this point – because the parent is then in violation of a different mitzvah from our parsha – 19:14 “Do not put a stumbling block before the blind.”

How far does the prohibition extend?

Rashi on the verse notes that one may not curse one’s parents even after their deaths. The Torah Temimah explains that a curse causes damage to the soul.

Your own age does not matter, notes Targum Yonatan, as you may NEVER curse your parents, even when you are old.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch adds that “even in their deaths, the influence of the parent never ceases.”

It is this last point that may give the most insight into this mitzvah. Why it is presented in the negative is perhaps meant to strike home how important the respect for the parent must be. Despite any negativity one must have experienced in life. Your parents brought you into this world, you owe them the respect that comes from their simply having given you the gift of life.

I have met a few people – in the last few weeks alone – who have suffered the lost of a parent. One had a not-so-positive relationship with the parent. One was so-upset at the parent’s early death. I know of circumstances in which the parent took his own life, leaving behind a shattered family and a tremendous amount of pain. In all cases, the shiva was sat, the kaddish was nonetheless recited, and the act of mourning was certainly carried out publicly. What goes on in private is not my business.

And so there is a mix of emotions which accompany the circumstances that might bring about a feeling that “the parent deserves a curse.”

On the other hand, the inverse message is probably true as well. And that is that if a person honors (Shmot 20:12) and cherishes one’s parents, and reveres one’s parents (Our parsha – 19:3), that a blessing is heaped upon the individual. The Torah promises long life in the Ten Commandments – and certainly that would be a blessing.

But it goes further – because the need to honor one’s parents goes beyond the grave. Not just in the respectful funeral and beautiful matzevah (grave stone), but in talking about the parents, thinking about the parents, quoting the parents, remembering the parents, honoring parents becomes about so much more than bringing in a little schnapps to shul on a yarzeit. It becomes about how we promulgate legacies; how the grandchildren and great grandchildren that carry the names of the deceased are taught about their forebears and encouraged and trained to keep their legacies alive.

Those of us who are blessed to have parents (and they should all be blessed with long, healthy and happy lives!) must do our best to honor and appreciate them in their lives.

Those who are on the other side, whose parents are deceased, can do much more than remember parents on yarzeits, but can honor their memories every day of the year. We can learn, give tzedakah, do mitzvos, and continue to support Jewish causes in their names. This will promulgate their continued impact in our lives.

Revisiting Tzlafchad

Titled "Revisiting" because we've been down this road before

Parshat Pinchas

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 This idea was born out of a learning session I had with my daughter, Aliza. She gets a lot of credit for the direction into which this thought developed. 

 The tale of the daughters of Tzlafchad is shrouded in mystery surrounding the death of their father.

 Five years ago, I raised the suggestion of the Zohar that Tzlafchad was the lone victim of the snakes in Bamidbar 21. 

 But a new reading of the account lends to a new interpretation that perhaps his so-called “sin” wasn’t really a sin at all.

 “Our father died in the desert. He was not among the members of Korach's party who protested against God, but he died [in/of] his own sin without leaving any sons.” (27:3) 

 The daughters of Tzlafchad ask Moshe for their father’s portion in the land because they feel his desert-death should not prevent his family inheriting a portion of land.

 If their father’s death was relatively innocent, why compare it to Korach’s rebels? Were they really saying that he died because of a sin? How would they know that the sin was the reason for his death?

 Abravanel raises a number of points that can help us answer these questions.

 They compared their father to Korach to make it clear to Moshe that Tzlafchad never challenged him personally. This might help Moshe be more receptive to their request. Tzlafchad was not a controversial figure.

 Their saying “He died in his sin” (‘b’chet’o met) makes any suggestion of his having died at the hands of man (such as the woodcutter in Bamidbar 15:32-36, or in any battle in Bamidbar 14) to be impossible.

 But maybe that expression introduces us to what his “sin” was, namely that he did not have any sons.

 Before we continue, let us make a couple of things clear. Not having sons is not a sin. People who have only daughters, or people who do not have children at all, have not sinned. It is in God’s hand to grant people children, and whatever cards He deals determines to what degree we have fulfilled our mitzvah to procreate. The Talmud tells us there are three partners in creation (Kiddushin 30b, Niddah 31a) (though modern science can perhaps be counted as a “fourth” partner in Creation for those struggling with infertility), but as one of my teachers once pointed out, the Talmudic passage in Shabbat 31a that lists the questions one will face at the Heavenly Court includes “Did you attempt to procreate?” The question is not whether you were successful or how many children you had, but whether you tried.

Tzlafchad had five daughters. But they are the ones who mention that “he died in his sin and he did not have sons.”

 There is only one other place in the Torah when the idea of “not having sons” is mentioned: in a passage that describes how Nadav and Avihu, Aharon’s older sons, had died. Bamidbar 3:4 tells us “Nadav and Avihu died before God when they offered unauthorized fire to God in the Sinai Desert, and they had no sons.” 

Trying to pinpoint why Nadav and Avihu died is a longer conversation, with many viewpoints and suggestions offered by the commentaries. But the Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 20) utilizes this verse to make a strange suggestion in the name of Rabbi Levi, that one of the reasons Nadav and Avihu died was because “They did not have sons.” (Bamidbar 3:4). While not having sons is not inherently a sin, it could be viewed in Torah language as a “chet” – a sin. (The Talmud Yevamot 64a suggests it may actually be a sin, but the Torah Temimah explains how it’s not a real sin) Seforno and others suggest that if Nadav and Avihu had sons, those sons would have been kohanim even before Elazar and Itamar. Not having produced these children, they missed out on bringing the next generation of kohanim into the world.

 Perhaps, in using a similar language, Tzlafchad’s daughters were saying to Moshe, “Our father died leaving only daughters. In his own way, following the teaching we learned about Nadav and Avihu, his death was in a state of personal ‘sin’ because there were no sons. But, unlike Nadav and Avihu, who had no children, he left behind five daughters. We should get his portion so that our father’s name will not be forgotten.”

 This may have actually been a brilliant ploy because Moshe viewed his nephews Nadav and Avihu as very holy (Vayikra 10:3). Perhaps Tzlafchad’s daughters’ appeals to Moshe (and his feelings about his nephews), explaining their circumstance in similar terms, helped Moshe come to the conclusion that of course they should inherit because it is unfair for their father’s circumstance to be compared to Nadav and Avihu. Particularly if Moshe looked past Nadav and Avihu’s lack of children, he would see that Tzlafchad’s daughters were all that their father could have wished for and more.

 Certainly having daughters is a great blessing. And maybe, after this tale, the concept of the “sin” of not having sons was laid to rest forever. Because raising children is not about gender. It is about teaching the next generation how to be good people, and good Jews. And certainly in that respect, Tzlafchad was anything but a failure or sinner. He was quite successful!

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” -

Making the Seder Memorable

On Tuesday night I presented a class for kids at the Young Israel of Hollywood, entitled "Making your Seder MEMORABLE." There were about 25 kids there, along with their parents and/or grandparents. 

Technically savvy participant Jon Garber had the foresight to take pictures of some of the more expressive moments. 

I wrote about a bunch of the ideas last year

The kids had a great time. I had a great time. And we even ended up singing the song that was parodied here (video after the photos).

The Son and the Grandsons

Parshat Vaychi

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The opening of our parsha contains narrative that seems inconsistent.

           
"Yaakov" lives in Egypt. But the days of "Yisrael" are getting closer to his death.

           
After asking Yosef to swear that the burial will not take place in Egypt and will take place in his family burial plot, "Yisrael" bows at the head of the bed.

           
Time passes, and Yosef is told (by…?), "Your father is sick." So he takes "his two sons with him, Ephraim and Menashe."

           
Someone (who…?) tells "Yaakov," "Your son Yosef is here." So "Yisrael" strengthens himself and sits on the bed.

Then "Yaakov" speaks to Yosef – and through what he tells Yosef it almost seems as if Menashe and Ephraim are not present. In short, Yosef is informed that his two sons will be viewed as if they are the told oldest of the 12 tribes, and that through them Yosef is receiving the double portion of the first born's rights. After saying this, "Yisrael" sees Yosef's sons and puzzlingly asks, "Who are these [people]?" before he is reminded they are his grandsons and he asks to bless them. (47:29-48:9)

There are numerous theories for the switch between Yaakov and Yisrael, what each name represents, and why each might be used in the context in which it appears. Many are interesting but most have an inconsistency or a flaw (or a stretch) that makes it not worth belaboring the point.

The problems we will zero in on surround who is telling Yosef about his father, who is telling his father about his arrival, why are we told that he took "his sons" and then it specifies "Ephraim and Menashe" (talk about stating the obvious!), and what is the role of Ephraim and Menashe until Yaakov notices their presence?

The Torah tells us Yosef took them "with him" indicating their presence should have been noted from the moment Yosef showed up, not after Yaakov has already given Yosef a blessing and instructions!

           
Many commentaries (Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Radak, Pesikta, Alshich) suggest that the one who told Yosef about his father's illness, and the one who informed his father that "Yosef is here" was the same person – The "Magid." The announcer. Rashi even suggests that his identity is unimportant because sometimes the Torah leaves out unimportant details.

           
However, Rashi also raises the possibility that the announcer is Ephraim, who spent a lot of time with Saba Yaakov (see Daat Zekenim's fascinating "proof" for the Ephraim identification). And the Midrash Sechel Tov uses a similar argument to suggest that it was Menashe who made the respective announcements to Yosef and to Yaakov.

           
In this latter approach, whether it was Ephraim or Menashe seems to be irrelevant (in the big picture), because all it means is that Yosef hears the news and takes his informer along with his other son to visit Yaakov, and the informer subsequently announces Yosef's arrival – or, as Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch notes the terms "Vayaged (and he told)" and "Vayomer (and he said)" – in order not to shock the older man, Yaakov was first told Yosef was coming, and then informed when Yosef actually arrived.

           
The Shach suggests that when "Yisrael" bowed at the head of the bed in 47:31, he was bowing before God's Divine Presence, which stayed nearby and informed him in 48:2 that Yosef was there. Netziv puts a slight twist on this idea as he suggests Yosef had sent a message that he was not coming alone – he was to bring his sons anticipating their receiving a blessing – suggesting that his father should prepare to receive the Divine Presence.

           
The Alshich focuses on the terminology of "Acharei Hadvarim Ha'Eileh" – after these things – noting how the use of the word "Acharei" instead of "Achar" indicates that the promise to bury Yaakov in Canaan distinguished Yosef and opened the door for his sons to be blessed. Much time passed between the end of chapter 47 and the beginning of chapter 48, and the promise did not directly merit the double portion gifted through Ephraim and Menashe, but it was all related.  

           
Alshich raises the possibility that it was the same Divine Presence that accompanied Yisrael's bow in 47:31 that informed Yosef that his father was sick – in other words, Yosef intuited it through Ruach HaKodesh (a divine spirit).

           
According to the Daat Zekenim, Yosef did not regularly visit his father, to avoid having the conversation about what actually transpired that wound him up in Egypt.

           
The suggestion made by Or HaChaim can help us satisfy our conundrum. He says that on the one hand "Yosef's sons" should merit a blessing on Yosef's merit, but on the other hand, Ephraim specifically and Menashe specifically each merit a blessing on his own right.

           
While it seems that Yaakov is not paying attention to the presence of the individuals Ephraim and Menashe when they show up with their father, he is aware that "Yosef's sons" (as a unit) are present. He continues to avoid the painful conversation of the fateful day when Yosef descended to Egypt, because they are not alone, and he speaks glowingly of "Yosef's sons" as if they are in absentia – because speaking of them as "Yosef's sons" is Yosef's blessing. They are only indirectly relevant to Yosef's blessing – which goes all the way to 48:16.

           
When Yaakov looks at them and calls them over, though he blesses them together (in 48:20), he is blessing Ephraim the individual and Menashe the individual.

           
We see differences in the relationships Yaakov/Yisrael had with his son versus with his grandsons. The roles of the players here indicate the truth of the statement of Mishlei 17:6, "Children's children are the crown of the aged, and the glory of the children is their fathers."

VAYIKRa - The Beginning of Learning

Parshat Vayikra

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A number of Midrashim pose the question (ascribed either to Rabbi Yoseh, Yosi, or Dosa), "Why do children begin learning the [Chumash] from the section about korbanot [offerings]?" And the answer is, "Because just as the korbanot are pure, so are the children pure."

            

In recording the question at the beginning of Vayikra, Kli Yakar quotes the Yalkut Shimoni (Pinchas 786), who uses a play on words to demonstrate that one year old "k'vasim" (sheep) are used as korbanot, because they are "m'khabsim" (they launder or wash away) the sins of a person, making the person as clean (or pure) as a one-year old.

            

While there are many suggestions as to why the alef in "VAYIKRa" is small (Kli Yakar begins his commentary on the parsha with his own interpretation), the call to attention brought on by the alef in this first word of the book is a reminder that this is where children, who are small and who begin their learning with alef, should begin their Chumash studies.

            

Kli Yakar quotes another opinion, that the word "Alef" comes from a root which means to study, as in the verse in Iyov (33:33), when his friend Elihu tells him, "Va'Alefkha Hokhma," – If you have words, answer me… but if you don't, then listen to me; be silent as I will teach you wisdom." The point taken from there is that learning is only fulfilling when a person lowers himself, and accepts the role of student, like a child learning in a classroom.

            

Moshe indeed merited to be called in this manner – Vayikra El Moshe – because he had done this when God first called upon him. He belittled himself saying, "I am not a man of words" (Shmot 4:10), and he merited to become the epitome of being a man of words, the quintessential teacher of Torah.

            

Not only was he the greatest teacher, but he rose above everyone else of his time. Certainly God spoke to Adam, Noach, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. But there was no one else in their time worthy of being any kind of competition. But in Moshe's day, there were 70 elders, Bezalel, Aharon and his sons, the princes, etc. and only Moshe merited to have the relationship with God he enjoyed.

            

And so the lesson is twofold: We learn from Moshe that one who never thinks "I have arrived" and who always thinks, "I have so much more to learn" is a person who will have much more success in learning.

            

Having played the role of instructor for advanced teacher education and training, I have found the most productive classes were those in which the teachers in the room played the role of students. Those who feel the need to reverse the roles in that context end up learning nothing themselves and ruin the class for everyone else.

            

On the other hand, playing the role of student is something I cherish as well. It is a blessing to hear new ideas, see new things, be presented with different perspectives on things I don't know well or even know very well. And the reminder of how much there is still to learn is ever humbling.

            

This leaves us with the second lesson: regarding children, of what and how they learn. We are living in a time when information is out there, available and so easily accessible. What is not out there, and what needs to be taught, learned and made available to children, is the ability to think. The answer to "what's the answer?" is "I don't know. Figure it out." Or, "Perhaps if you use this rule or this information that you have, you may be able to come up with the answer." "I am here to help, but not to show you or tell you."

            

Of course there are things we must "tell" children. How to read, translation of words, and even some basic skills all come from a frontal sharing of "information you need to know." But the book of Vayikra is a great place to start learning because the same words and shorashim (root words) appear over and over in the first seven chapters, creating a built in review of language, syntax, vocabulary, and structure.

            

And even the message shared by Rabbi Yoseh, Yosi or Dosa is equally important to bear in mind. There is a purity that beginning learners have, a curiosity, along with a desire to learn and to please others.

            

Our challenge is to teach things correctly, to make good choices, and to give learners information, skills, and the wings to think for themselves.

            

Instead of creating "Yes"-men-and-women and people who are afraid to get wrong answers, we must tap into the purity of Vayikra, combine it with the purity of the children, and promote an active kind of learning in which mistakes are encouraged, because we catch them on our own, learn from them, and grow from them. We create an environment in which those who have the drive, who have a similarly talented peer group (as did Moshe), are able to rise above because they raise themselves above through their commitment and dedication to learning and growing.

Hanokh L'naar al pi darko – Teach the child according to how the child learns, so that even when he grows old, he will not turn away from what he has been taught. (Proverbs 22:6)

Bringing the Children Along

This was written the week after the horrific shooting at an elementary school in Newtown, CT in 12/2012, in which 26 people, 20 of whom were children, were killed by a _______ (not sure how to describe this 'person.') The loss is too difficult to comprehend, and the vacuum in all of our hearts is sucking at air because we all feel the pain of those mourning for the children with whom they will never have the opportunity to "bring them along" any more.

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A not-too-farfetched reading of the end of Chapter 45 can indicate that only one person intended to go down to Egypt to stay there.  "… And bread and foot for his father for the journey" (45:23). "He saw the wagons Yosef had sent to carry him…" (45:27) "Israel said, 'My son Yosef still lives: I will go and I will see him before I die.'" (45:28)

It is particularly poignant that Yaakov/Yisrael was the only one excited about the journey. He travels "with all that was his" to Beer Shava, where he brought sacrifices. (46:1) God promises to go down with him (specifically), and that He will take Yaakov up from Egypt. (46:3-4) Yaakov's sons then make sure their wives and children are on the wagons that were sent "to carry him." (46:5).

The final indicators are in verses 6-7, when we see "They took their cattle and their possessions to come to Egypt: Yaakov and all his children with him." This is followed by "His sons, grandsons, daughters and granddaughters and all of his children – he brought with him to Egypt."

Every pronoun is in the singular – about Yaakov.

Why did they not bring all of their belongings in 46:1? Why does it emphasize twice (in 46:6-7) that all his children were with him – first in the general sense, and then in the more specific – before listing them individually? Wouldn't once be sufficient?

And why does it say "He brought them with him to Egypt?" Why did he have to bring them? Did they not go of their own accord?

The Or HaChaim explains that they were only going in order to accompany their father, and had no intention of staying in Egypt. But after the prophesy in Beer Shava, they realized they were meant to go and stay there as well. Which is why they willingly and deliberately put their children on the wagons: if you're going to go, you may as well go in style.

The Malbim further notes that the zodiac indicated there would eventually be enslavement, but that they  (Yaakov's sons) would not personally be enslaved. For the shvatim (the individual tribes) themselves, there was nothing to worry about. But their children, destined to be the first ones enslaved, exhibited hesitation. This is why Yaakov needed to "bring them." Would you want to be dragged along for Grandpa's joyride if he will die soon, leaving you to be enslaved? Didn't think so.

Or HaChaim applies the same thought process to some of the Shvatim themselves – that they too didn't want to go, but needed Yaakov to drag them against their will.

Being dragged along for the ride of someone else's destiny is never easy. When adults get jobs that cause them to move, and their children are uprooted from the system and friendship circle they know so well, it can be traumatic. Those who make aliyah to Israel are sometimes faced with this challenge with their children, especially with kids who were a little older by the time they make the move.

While any move nowadays is hardly comparable to the destiny of being enslaved for a few generations, the natural hesitation, fears, or just plain ambivalence that comes with the prospects of the move are real challenges that aren't easily overcome.

The same is true of certain aspects of how we live. Some schools and parents are quite successful in inculcating a regimen of halakhic observance in their students and children.

Fathers who go to shul bring their kids to shul. Mothers who make prayer a fixture of their lives teach their children that prayer is important to us.

We teach our sons to wear tzitzis, even though the extra garment might not be preferred. We learn Torah in the home, even though a computer game or a toy or a book is more appealing right now.

At the shabbos meal, the kids are present for the zemiros and the bentching. In fact, children learn to say their brachos before and after they eat, even though it isn't "natural" to remember God all the time.

Children are given the opportunity to give tzedakah, to deduct a portion of their allowance. They see their parents write donation checks and understand that we do not keep for ourselves all the money we earn. There are people who are more needy.

If we volunteer at a soup kitchen, we bring our children along, when appropriate.

The fact is, while they are under our protective wings and care, our children share in our destiny – whether they like it or not. We don't have the same opportunity that Yaakov's descendants had, to have an inkling of what the future will bring. But we must bring our children along for the ride, because without proper Jewish living in the present, there will not be a Jewish future.

Coming of Age Properly

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

I recently overheard two fathers of teenagers comparing their approaches to their sons' shul attendance on Sundays and other "days off." One of them came to me afterwards to discuss his related concerns about "texting on shabbos."

With a little insight from Parshat Vayishlach, perhaps there is a simple answer to both questions. I accept that I may be hopelessly naïve. But the stand I propose at the end of this will not be, if followed, what turns your children away from Judaism. Much bigger issues bring about such a result. Having said that, let us see how we can find parenting-inspiration from our forefather Yaakov.

One theme in Vayishlach is the coming-of-age of Yaakov's children.

Unlike in Vayetze where they appear as backdrops in the narrative of events in Padan Aram, in Vayishlach, we see an entirely different story. Consider: Reuven and Bilhah, Shimon and Levi in Shechem, all the brothers dealing with the prince of Shechem, and Yosef being singled out as the last son to meet Eisav. Even Dinah's experience in Shechem, while tragic, is arguably her initiation into the "real world." The brothers, collectively, plunder the city of Shechem and are later asked by their father to remove the idols that they have from their midst.

Yaakov's role as parent is fascinating, at times very active, and at times quite passive.

Immediately after dividing into two camps, Yaakov prays to the God of his fathers (32:10-12). Through remembering his roots in front of his children, he is demonstrating his understanding of why he is in this situation and the expectation he has from the God Who promised to watch over him and his children.

           

Whether Yaakov was crippled (end of Ch. 32) in order that he may: experience the promise God made to him (Chizkuni), be shown he would not be defeated (Radak), or ultimately win in a confrontation (Yalkut Shimoni), all help Yaakov realize that you can't run from your fears. In facing his brother with one unified camp, scrapping the two-camps plan, he models and teaches his children that if you boldly face what you think is your greatest fear, you may find that the only thing you really feared, if I may borrow from FDR, was fear itself. Facing one's destiny is more important than running like a coward. 

           

When his injured "gid hanasheh" prevented him from running, he became emboldened and confronted his brother in the open field. Abstaining from eating this nerve of an animal could be a reminder that cowardice is unbecoming of those who are God-fearing.

            

Yaakov takes the sidelines in allowing his sons to deal with Shechem. They speak "b'mirmah" – using tricks – (as did their father to Yitzchak (see 27:35)) and they bring justice against those who defiled their sister (34:27). Their father is disappointed in their choices, but they literally get the final word (34:31). It seems that they take the teachings of their father – to use trickery, to stand up to those who oppress you or who want to make your life miserable – and they run with them. And while they may not be entirely correct, their actions are somewhat justified by the context of the perpetrated deed.

            

In the final tale, when God tells Yaakov to go to Bet-El to make an altar to his God, Yaakov tells his sons to remove the idolatrous images they have (35:2). They listen! They give them to him, and he buries them under a tree!

            

Yaakov has modeled a line of behavior for his children. They learn from his example, they take his lead. They are not perfect, and they make choices he doesn't like. But when he tells them to give him precious items because they conflict with the prayers he will soon engage in, or because they don't fit in to the mood of the household, they acquiesce – no questions asked.

            

Parents of children who are coming of age certainly notice the changes they go through. Hopefully parents give children the freedom to make choices (and to make mistakes!), but hopefully both parents and children respect one another and have the ability to communicate with one another in general and about what is important to them.

Claiming you don't want to make your child go to shul for a 9am (or later!) minyan on a Sunday because you're afraid of losing your relationship with your son seems silly to me. Your kid davens (or attends davening) in school every day of the week. Sunday is the day you show your kid that you daven too! And that it isn't a day off for him or for you!

            

Finally, if Yaakov could convince his sons to give up golden images and jewelry which did not jive with the home he was building, I see no reason why the texting on shabbos "problem" is a problem. Every home can have an "off-limits-on-Shabbos" box, and every cell phone, tablet, etc. in the house is placed there before shabbos.

            

The same parents who pay their kids' cell-phone bills and give their kids credit cards should have every say as to when the phone is on and off-limits.

            

Yaakov buried objects which were far more precious, for the sake of preparing for serving the God that protected him and his family through the years. Shabbos is the day we serve the God that has protected and sustained our families through the years. If we are afraid of our children or can't bring ourselves to put up simple guidelines that brings the family on the same page in terms of prayer and Shabbos, we are doing something very wrong as parents.

            

Despite all the problems, "Yaakov's sons were twelve." (35:12) With God's help, and properly standing for what "our family believes in," we should merit to raise children who not only follow our examples for the good, but who surpass our expectations in their observance of the Torah, their relationships with God, and their religious experiences.

Being a Better Parent Than...?

Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

            

The Torah describes one interaction between Avraham and Yishmael (his banishment in chapter 21), one interaction between Avraham and Yitzchak (the "Akedah" of chapter 22), and one interaction between Yitzchak and his sons in the blessing episode of chapters 27-28.     

            

From an objective perspective, judging only the human element without the divine instructions to listen to Sarah and to take Yitzchak to a mountain, Avraham's parenting skills don't pass muster.

            

Perhaps Yitzchak decided "When I am a parent, I will do things differently. I will not alienate my children. I will not do things that will cause them to resent me later in life." When any child becomes a parent, the opportunity to "prove" or live out such a notion comes when similar circumstances present themselves and the "enlightened" parent can make different parenting choices from those s/he witnessed or experienced as a child.

            

The parallels in the stories are too many to ignore.

            

In both circumstances we have: an elderly father, an older and a younger son, the latter being overly protected by his mother from the older one taking his inheritance, instruction for marriage to take place with people of Aram (or the family living there), references to hunting, a blessing for the older son to be a great nation.

            

The contrasts of parenting choices are notable as well.

            

Yitzchak modeled an age for marriage – and Eisav followed it, getting married at age 40. But Yitzchak did not instruct whom to marry – giving freedom of choice – which came back to bite him (26:34-35).

            

Yitzchak speaks with his older son. Instead of sending him out of his life, he sends him on a mission, to give him merits which will help him earn his blessing.

Whereas when he was the son Yitzchak initiated the only conversation with his father the Torah records, as a father he engages his son in conversation ("My Father," "Here I am, my son" becomes "My son," "Here I am").

Unlike at the Akedah when Avraham brought things that God did not tell him to take (knife, wood, fire), Yitzchak tells Eisav exactly what to take for his mission.

Instead of sending him out with food which may run out, as Avraham did to Yishmael, Yitzchak instructs Eisav to prepare and bring back food.

Eisav, the older son, does not need to see his mother abandon him at a distance of an arrow-shot, a memory which may have contributed to Yishmael's picking up the bow professionally (21:16,20). Yitzchak encourages Eisav's bow-wielding activities (27:3)

            

Hagar is shown the water which will help Yishmael survive, and he is saved because of his sincere prayer. Eisav cries out in a most heartfelt manner over the loss of the blessing taken by Yaakov, and he receives the blessing of "You will live by your sword."

            

Unlike in Yitzchak's case, where he never left home and did nothing to procure a wife for himself, it is decided that the younger son will be sent away for the time being, where he will actively pursue a mate.

            

Without Avraham's instruction, Yishmael marries an Egyptian (just as Avraham did in taking Hagar), avoiding the Canaanite women. Only after hearing Yitzchak tell Yaakov the qualities of a proper shidduch does Eisav (in a moment of irony closing the family circle) take the daughter of Yishmael as a wife.

             

The blessings given to Yaakov and Eisav are physical blessings, quite similar, and are unrelated to the blessing of Avraham, which it seems Yitzchak always intended to give to Yaakov.

Ironically, even Yitzchak's best laid plans backfire. When Yaakov enters, he too reproduces the conversation Yitzchak had with his father. "My father," "Hineni, who are you, my son?" "I am Eisav your first born, I've done as you ask, please rise to eat so you may bless me." "So fast?" "God helped me." "Let me feel you – are you really Eisav?... The voice is the voice of Yaakov, but the hands are Eisav's hands."

In the big picture, Yitzchak chooses to: stay out of shidduch advice until zero hour (failing with Eisav), be more sensitive to his older child than Avraham was to his (fail because Yaakov received the blessing), encourage the not-so-Jewish profession of hunting (fail - at least according to Chazal), try to create a system of equality between brothers (fail). While Yishmael's prayer was answered with a spring of water to help his survival, Eisav cried out (no prayer), and his father blessed him with survival-by-the-sword (is that the best "survival" we can hope for?). And Yitzchak plays favorites as well, giving the blessing of Avraham to Yaakov alone.

And so it seems even the best laid plans are not foolproof. And as much as people might think they'll be better parents than theirs' were, the fact is that each person has a unique personality, unique character traits, and does things differently. In some ways, we always hope we are improving on what was given to us. But hopefully we still respect our parents even though we don't agree with all their parenting choices. And while we hope we are doing a better job as well, we too are not perfect. And when our kids grow up (or if they've grown up) and they show us our imperfections, hopefully we'll stifle our urge to speak when we notice theirs as well.

Trial and error. Succeed and fail. Learn from mistakes, and hopefully do better next time.

Moshe's Failure

An Important Lesson in Education

  Parshat Va'Etchanan

  by Rabbi Avi Billet

 One of the more fascinating narratives in the Torah is the one surrounding the fate of Moshe, the great leader, and his passionate effort to gain entry into the Promised Land. In last week's parsha he seemed to imply that the episode of the spies doomed him to the same fate as the entire generation (Devarim 1:37).

 In this week's parsha, Moshe has a more cryptic explanation when, in the context of a paragraph in which he explains why God took the people out of Egypt to make them His special nation, "He got angry at me [because of] your words, and He swore I would not cross the Jordan, and I would not come into the land that Hashem your God is giving to you as an inheritance." (4:21) No further explanation is given here beyond blaming "your words."

 Why, then, was Moshe barred from entering the land? Is Moshe referring to the spies incident? The rock incident? Something else? Which "words" uttered by the people may have brought upon him the devastating fate that he tries over and over to have reversed?

The Or HaChaim points out that Moshe's reference to "not crossing the Jordan" as well as "not coming to the land" covers his non-entry in life, or in death (to be buried there), respectively. The traditional approach has all of Yaakov's sons' remains being brought to the land for burial. Moshe is excluded even from this. Why could he not even be buried in the land? Because of their words.

 What were their words?

 The Shakh on the Torah suggests that the anger that God wrought on Moshe was at the Golden Calf incident. When God told Moshe to "Go down" (Shmot 32:7) He meant "Go down from your greatness." Perhaps the underlying message is, "What kind of leader leaves his people in such a state that when he is missing for a 40 day period, they not only don't have more patience, but they go to such an extreme that they create a golden image and seemingly serve it?" This is a failure of leadership.

 The Shakh goes on to say that Moshe's response to the people in the rock incident (Bamidbar 20) hardly fits with his words here – "their words" there, complaining for water, could certainly not be viewed as causing his non-entry to the Land.

 Taking Moshe's message home, Ramban provides the most poignant message in his illuminating comment on this verse. He explains Moshe's words as meaning "God commanded me to teach you the commandments, that you will do in the Land when you cross over [the river] to get there. So, take the lesson, because I will be dying in Moab and I will not be able to teach you in the Land. [When you are] there, don't forget what I have taught you. Nor what you saw in Sinai… God was angry with me on account of worry that you will forget the covenant with God." This is why when Moshe repeats the "Ten Statements," he mentions "as God commanded you" (5:12,16) as if to say, "What I am telling you here was not my own words – it was never my words. All of my teachings come from God."

 What then were "their words?" On a simple level, it is likely words of rebellion that were legitimately out of place – which, as the Shakh points out, is likely not the incident with the rock. Does it matter if it was the Golden Calf, the spies, or something else? I think the point is that it's very hard to square Moshe's failure on a single incident. The punishment, as it were, does not fit any single crime.

 On a much deeper level, I think Ramban is suggesting that Moshe is saying, "I was punished because of your words, because I failed you as a teacher. I didn't understand your complaints. I didn't appreciate where you were coming from. I couldn't relate to you on your level. I may have advocated when you complained, but I didn't anticipate your needs in the right way. This lack on my part brought about the moral failures that fill the Torah, and is the reason I will not enter the land in life, and why not even my body will enjoy the benefit of burial in the land."

This is an incredible admission.

 Moshe is teaching every parent and teacher that God gets angry at us – the parents and teachers – on account of the words of those we are meant to teach, guide and inspire. We need to listen, to try hard to understand, and to respond in a way that is direct, pointed, and that helps the student or child overcome the obstacle, move past the challenging question or episode, with more clarity, with proper guidance. We need to provide answers that the children and students can appreciate and understand.

 And, most importantly, we need to be intellectually honest, without evading issues. Students and children can spot hypocrisy in an instant, and they also know when they're not being listened to or when their genuine concerns are misunderstood by those they look to for guidance. There is a big difference between the response elicited by our teaching or rebuke when a child says "I hate you" versus "I don't like what you're saying, but I respect you nonetheless because you respect me."

 Moshe concludes saying, "While I may not have understood you, I hope you will see that my teachings are good. Heed them, don't disregard them, don't forget what I have taught you."

 May we merit to learn from Moshe. Let us succeed in hearing "their words" so God may always be pleased with us in our roles as parents and teachers - horim and morim. And even when they don't like our methods, let us pray that the students and children will be able to see that our teachings are good, even though we, human beings that we are, are not perfect.

At the Forefront of the Mind

Parshot MATOT-Masei 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Reading through Bamidar Chapter 32, one gets mixed feelings. The Bnei Gad and Bnei Reuven (tribes of Gad and Reuven) look at the land the Israelites have recently conquered, East of the Jordan, and they realize they have a match made in heaven. The land is fertile, perfect for farm animals, and wouldn't you know it! – they have many farm animals. (32:4)

Would it be possible, they ask, for these two tribes to settle there, without entering the land of Canaan? 

Formalities need to be worked out. How could they sit back while the rest of the nation is fighting the inhabitants of Canaan?

Moshe instructs them to build homes for their families and animals, and then they are to lead the battles. And then he tells Yehoshua and Elazar that these tribes must lead the battles until all the land is conquered. Only when their mission is complete may they return home. And if they do not complete their mission, they may not settle East of the Jordan – they will have to be divided in the land amongst the other tribes. 

Gad and Reuven agree, and their completion of their mission is confirmed in the book of Yehoshua 22. 

There are different approaches to understanding their request and the subsequent way in which they are viewed. Is it proper for them to specifically want to live outside of the land which will become Israel? Why would their "punishment" (were they to not fulfill their condition) be to live in the land? Surely that is a good thing! How many times does the agreement need to be repeated and reworded and reemphasized? [At least three times!] 

In halakha, the proper form of making a two-sided condition is modeled in 32:29-30 (Talmud Kiddushin 61a). This would be a positive outcome of the exchange. The guarantee that these troops, often considered the best in the nation, would lead is also a positive outcome. 

But many point out that the tribes of Gad and Reuven requested, first and foremost, to be able to build housing for their animals (32:16). Moshe only agreed if they put their number one priority on building homes for their families (32:24). In the following verses (25-26) they agree to Moshe's condition, putting their families before their animals. 

The main question I suppose running through everyone's head at the time was, "Is this good for the Jews?" 

Moshe was certainly not impressed. He felt that the desire to live outside the land echoed the mistake made by the spies and the people in the tale of woe that condemned the nation to their 40 years of wandering. And yet, their promise to lead the battles seems to suggest that it is not that they don't appreciate the land. They just recognize a good thing when they see it, and the land East of the Jordan is good for their financial needs. In this respect, while they do not feel that they specifically need to live in the land of Israel, they do recognize, and clearly plan to militarily support those who will be living in the land. This is certainly good for the Jews. 


The presumed financial loss they will assume were they to break their promise is the reason why their "punishment" will be to live in the land if they do not fulfill their obligations. The punishment is not suggesting the land is no good. But it is aimed at hitting them in their pocketbooks. It is human nature to want to do whatever one can in order to avoid losing the financial windfall that will bring long-term economic security. 

The agreement is repeated over and over because it is important that everyone understand what is expected and what the outcome is. While this did not pre-date the concept of written documents, certainly the public nature of this Gentlemen's Agreement would help assure that there would be no backsliding or reneging in the particulars. 

The halakhic outcome of how to make a conditional agreement – "If you fulfill your responsibilities, the outcome will be X, whereas if you do not fulfill your responsibilities, the outcome will be Y" – serves as a model for all time how to make clear agreements without loopholes, so both sides can avoid being cheated, and can agree in a manner that everyone is clear as to what are the expectations. 

Which leaves us with their lost sense of priorities: how could they think of their animals before thinking of their children? 

I think that they viewed their financial stability as the means to be able to take care of their children. "If I can assure my income is set and stable, I know I'll be able to provide for my children." 

Moshe set the record straight for them, that as much as finances are important, the homes for the children need to be built before the homes for the animals. They "got it" right away, and proceeded accordingly. 

All in all, I think the Gad and Reuven episode was "good for the Jews" on account of the lessons it contains.  

Not every Jew needs to live in Israel, but every Jew should support its army. When a financial windfall passes your way, take it. Make sure you take every precaution in business dealings to give something in order to get something – make all stipulations clear, follow through with your end of the bargain, and make sure that in the end the other side of the agreement is fulfilled. Lastly, we must recognize that our priorities are our families and children. Every deal, agreement, undertaking, venture must be considered for its repercussions in advance, especially as it pertains to reputations and family, so we see that in whatever way possible, our children are taken care of, provided for, and always remain the foremost priority of our day-to-day existence.

But the Children...

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Towards the end of the conversation Yaakov has with Eisav about their future, Yaakov's final insistence that he cannot accompany Eisav to Seir puts the blame where most of us might put it.

'My lord,' replied Jacob, 'you know that the children are weak, and I have responsibility for the nursing sheep and cattle. If they are driven hard for even one day, all the sheep will die. Please go ahead of me, my lord. I will lead my group slowly, following the pace of the work that I have ahead of me, and the pace of the children. I will eventually come to [you], my lord, in Seir.'

When he describes the "regel ha'yladim" (the feet (pace) of the children) as the culprit for his having to move much slower, Ibn Ezra, Seforno and Ramban believe he is referring to his own children, "the oldest of whom is 12 and a few days" (Ibn Ezra). This could be supported by the verse that opens the chapter, in which Yaakov's children are referred to as "y'ladim" twice.

Others, however, believe Yaakov is referring to the children of his adult sheep who are weak and unable to be pushed hard to travel. Chizkuni (33:13), for example, points out that Yaakov placed his wives and children on camels (referring to 31:17), implying that their (the children's) inability to walk would be a non-factor.

A number of Midrashim take the reference to the weak children as a metaphor for a different time and place. It either refers to Moshe and Aharon, with the sheep being the Israelite nation who might have died in the days of Andaryanus were it not for the mercy of God, or to David and Shlomo, with the sheep again referring to the Israelite nation who might have died in the days of Haman were it not for God's mercy (Bereshit Raba Vayishlach 78).

The Medrash Agada puts a different spin on what it is the children can't handle: the burden of Gehinnom. If you push them too hard one day, they'll have no hope.

Yalkut Shimoni has two accounts which include the children metaphor referring to Chananya, Mishael and Azarya on the one hand, and the Messiah on the other hand.

The Chizkuni's interpretation is most sensible to me. One has to imagine that wealthy Yaakov's children were riding on camels, and that there is no way he would force them to walk to the point that they would not be able to continue. Sheep, on the other hand, would be afforded no such luxury.

And, as compelling as the midrashic interpretations are, I can't imagine Yaakov really had such images in mind when addressing his brother Eisav.

If Yaakov's children were riding on camels, why then did Yaakov blame his intent not to join Eisav on his small children? It may be true, as the Midrash Sechel Tov points out, that their age demanded much attention. But why couldn't Yaakov just be up front with Eisav? Why couldn't he say, "I don't think your place is the right environment for me"? His kids might not have cared where they ended up! Why blame them, when it is Yaakov who wants no part of it?

Because, as many of us well know, the most important decisions we make in our lives are heavily influenced by our children and their needs.

I know one family who chose to raise their children in a small town close to where the specific Orthodox day school they admired was located. I know of families that have specifically sought jobs in larger Jewish communities - even though they preferred a smaller or "out of town" environment - where the special education needs of one of their children could be met.

I am sure you can think of countless examples when you or your parents made important life choices that were heavily influenced by the effect and impact it would have on children.

On the flip side, there are sacrifices we make on account of our children. Sometimes we come late to or miss events we would have liked to attend because "something came up." It may be a medical emergency, or a meltdown, or a tough night at the negotiating table (ie "you are going to bed right now, or else...").

In our society, when the "detained on account of child" excuse is real, we always hope those who were offended could be forgiving and understanding.

On the other hand, there may be times when people overuse the "child" excuse to the point they are no longer believed.

Was Yaakov being truthful in his blaming his inability to continue the journey on his children? Maybe yes, maybe no. But Yaakov knew that with the right person, and presented in the right way, it is hard to refute a fallback excuse that includes the words "My kids are small and incapable of making the journey."

This is one of the shared elements of the human condition – once we have children, our lives become inexorably linked to their immediate needs when duty calls.

The Community of God

Ki Tetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Chapter 23, verses 2-4 list a number of male types who may not enter "k'hal Hashem," the community of God. On a simple level, the verses seem strange. The first two individuals – men who have become sterile on account of external, or unnatural incidents – are likely Jewish men. As is the "mamzer," the product of two Jewish people who participated in a Torah-forbidden relationship. Don't they enter the community of God the moment they are born?

The Ammonite and Moabite males who may not enter the community of God are understandably in a different category, it would seem. But when the Torah says "Also the tenth generation may not enter the community of God" – which generation is the "tenth"? How is that calculated? May they become Jews, but only be accepted by the community after ten generations? How would they have any generations if they are not accepted?

While not proposing this exact definition, many of the commentaries define the "non-entry into the community of God" as a prohibition against their marrying Jewish women. Or a prohibition for Jewish women against marrying them.

What kind of discrimination is this? What about love? What about free choice? What about real human bonding? What do you say if people connect in their souls? Why should the Torah care who a woman marries, or if these men have found women who will help them not be alone?

Moabite converts may have once had to marry within their conversion community (if they were permitted to convert), but the fact is that the Ammonite and Moabite prohibition no longer applies in our world, because Sanncherib mixed around cultures, causing these nations to disappear (Talmud Brachot 28a).

As I do not intend to discuss the "mamzer" here, we will now move on the males who have become infertile due to an unnatural act. The comments of the ancient rabbis you are about to read might not smack of political correctness, and certainly do not take modern psychology knowledge into consideration. Nonetheless, I think they are very instructive as to how we can define some of the purposes of marriage.

**IOW - Disclaimer: This discussion relates to men whose genitalia have been physically mutilated. It does not relate to individuals who struggle with infertility for other reasons.**

Some of the arguments proposed by commentaries as to why they may not enter the community of God include: if they no longer have a possibility of fathering children, why should they marry women in the first place? (Chizkuni); the union of a man and wife is a foundation of inspiration and acceptance, which unnatural unfortunate events have rendered impossible on account of the inability to produce children for that purpose – which makes a deficiency in the upper spheres (Rabbi Menachem Ricanati, the Italian kabbalist of the 13^th century) [English translation: if they will not be able to have children to inspire to follow God's ways, a marriage of this sort seems less than ideal]

Along similar lines, Rabbenu Bachaye explains "the community of God" as referring to "marrying an Israelite woman," because, in his understanding, the main reason for marriage is to have children and to raise the next generation. When a man is physically incapable (scientifically is a different discussion), his marriage fails to serve its ultimate purpose.

However, Rabbenu Bachaye adds, since the Torah does not forbid "his getting married" (only entering the community of God), he may marry other women who are part of the Jewish community, such as a convert (there are different levels of conversion) or a freed Canaanite maid. Whatever relations the man may be able to have (or any relations in any union) that do not produce children are permitted in the context of marriage.

The Alshich is most practical, saying if a woman marries a man who is incapable of giving her a child, she might resort to forbidden means to get the child for which she yearns.

In our modern technological world, women who yearn for that child have options that need not include a forbidden relationship. Which can resolve the Alshich's concern.

           

Rabbenu Bachaye's feelings regarding marriage are alleviated by his openness to the reality that people who are scientifically incapable of producing children also marry, as do people who are past child producing years. We certainly understand that people marry for companionship and all kinds of reasons not necessarily related to having a family. Perhaps even suggesting that two people get married in order that they may produce children (when nothing else 'clicks') could be viewed as a creepy approach to matchmaking.

            

But the ultimate lesson is that a Jewish marriage, and a proper Jewish union, is called "Entering the community of God."

            

I wish for and bless all those currently looking for mates to look beyond yourself and your needs to find that the person who will help you enter the community of God need merely be a person who shares a common goal and a common vision for what you want out of life. The community of God is one that speaks of an existence of kedushah, of holiness, which is achieved through the kindnesses we do for our spouses, and the choices we utilize to make their lives more fulfilling.

            

May all Jewish people merit to live a life in the community of God, with marriages that work to inject holiness at every turn. And if children are part of the equation, may they grow to follow in the footsteps of the community of God in which they are raised.

Revenge... Anything But Sweet

Parshat Matot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There are no words to explain the horrific tragedy that unfolded in Brooklyn last week, only questions.

The positive side of the story is the outpouring of love, concern, and support that a community could exhibit for a child and for his family, in the aftermath of a conclusion noone could anticipate, expect, or face as being the reality.

In light of the story and how it has affected all of is, we can ask a particularly poignant question on a verse in the Torah that seems to go against everything we hold dear.

The war against Midian was a one-time event, pursuant to a very specific nation of moral depravity who had waged a full scale war against the Jewish people, sacrificing their daughters' innocence, along with any moral fabric they may have possessed, to destroy the Israelites from within. Their actions led directly to a plague in which 24,000 Israelites died.

God's instruction was, "Enact revenge against Midian." After killing all the adult males on the battlefield, the soldiers report they've left the women alone, causing Moshe to instruct them thus: "And now, kill every [Midianite] male child and every woman who has lain with a man kill [as well]. The females who have never been with a man can be spared." (Bamidbar 31:17-18)

Could God have truly dictated such a command? Was the Midianite crime so terrible that an all out war to kill even all the male children was necessary?

This is neither the first or last time an entire nation was to be wiped out in the Torah. Amalek is the poster-nation for this concept in the Torah, and wars were waged or declared against them in Shmot 17 and Devarim 25:19, as well as in Shmuel I chapters 15 and 30. Similar rules were enforced in wars waged against the seven nations of the land (Devarim 20:16).

Certainly, God did not spare the children in His destruction of Sodom and in the Flood.

Questioning God's decisions as to how He runs His world is a silly exercise. A God-fearing person recognizes that God may choose who will live and who will die. These are judgment calls He makes on a regular basis. We may not always like it, but that is the way of the world.

But why does He have to put such a possibility into the hands of man? Why did the Israelites need to be the power behind the revenge? Why did God prefer to issue forth this command, rather than enact a plague against Midian to take care of the dirty work, as He did to Egypt? Why did the Israelites need to have the blood on their hands?

Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch argued that the classic rules of engagement did not apply to this irregular war of revenge, a war governed by definition by different rules.

This answer is helpful in a general sense, but it does not answer our question. The halakhic argument of "When one comes to kill you, kill him first" (Brachot 58a), or revenge itself can be justified against the seductive women who brought about the plague. This does not include little boys!

In raising a logical argument Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch also does not answer our question: "We must assume that the national degeneration was rooted primarily in the males, whereas the females – if removed at an early age from impure influences and impressions – were able to attain morality…"

Rabbi Ben Zion Feerer points out the incongruity. If it's all out war, then none of the children should be spared. Why is there a difference between the boys and the girls?

Rabbi Feerer suggests that the fate of the boys is inexorably linked to that of the adult women. Generally speaking, the toll of war is on the men who fight, who, in a sense, are expected not to return. Children grow up, rebuild a nation, and live out the dream their fathers died for.

The Talmud says (Kiddushin 2) that women do not normally go out to war. As their death in battle is not a normal result of war, it is much longer remermbered and carried as a "battle scar" for the rest of a child's days.

In this case, however, since the women's actions instigated the revenge, there was no getting around that they would die in battle. There was therefore a need to rid the nation of the young males, so they would not grow up harboring the hate that would come from having lost their mothers and women in battle. They would have gotten over the deaths of their fathers alone – that is the natural order of warfare. But losing their women would pit them against Israel in a future Hatfield/Mccoy war that serves no purpose to the next generation.

The innocent girls could be spared, on the other hand, because they would not take revenge one day in battle.

It's a sad state of affairs when the actions of the guilty must bring about a punishment to the innocent. But it is reflective of a society that cares more about trying to destroy their enemy than about taking care of their children.

The Israelites needed to carry out the deed so they could afterwards demonstrate and teach that the act of revenge is anything but sweet. This is not something they enjoy doing or want to do (remember, they originally returned from battle having spared all the women!)

With the moral lesson "out there" they could hopefully teach their neighbors to live and let live so that a revenge of this nature might never be necessary again.