Lot's Failures

Parshat Lekh Lekha 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Lot looked up and saw that the entire Jordan Plain, all the way to Tzoar had plenty of water. (This was before God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.) It was like God's own garden, like the land of Egypt. Lot chose for himself the entire Jordan Plain. He headed eastward, and the two separated. Abram lived in the land of Canaan, while Lot dwelt in the cities of the Plain, having migrated as far as Sodom. But the people of Sodom were very wicked, and they sinned against God. (13:10-13) 

From one general perspective, Avram’s nephew Lot is considered to be a positive, albeit tragic figure. We give credit to the trait of hakhnosas orchim (welcoming guests) that he learned from his uncle, and the Rabbis believed Lot was eventually a judge in Sodom. There were rules about how Ammon and Moav (Lot’s sons conceived through an incestual relationship) were to be treated by Moshe and the conquering Israelites on account of the familial relationship, which were only cancelled when Moav attacked Israel in Bamidbar 24, as described in Devarim 2:9, as well as the historical note of Sichon having conquered those lands (see Bamidbar 21:26), making them available to Israel to conquer from Sichon.

The Sin of Doing One Mitzvah

Parshat VAYIKRa

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There’s a strange phrase that repeats itself several times in the parsha. “If a person sins… and does one of the commandments of God that one is [instructed] not to do” then a consequence follows. The consequence might be elaborated upon over several verses, or, as in the case, of 4:27, the consequence is preceded by the word, “v’ashem,” which means “and he is guilty.”

 Wouldn’t the verse make more sense if it said “If a person sins and violates a commandment…” or just leave it at “If a person sins…” and then list the consequence? It almost sounds like the Torah is saying that if a person sins through doing a mitzvah, then there is a consequence! How could a person sin through doing a mitzvah?!

 Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was known to look at the good of every Jew. One tale finds Reb Levi Yitzchak encountering a Jew who was smoking on Shabbos. The sinner refuted each benefit the rabbi ascribed to him. “You probably didn’t know it was Shabbos.” The man knew. “You probably didn’t know smoking is prohibited on Shabbos.” The man knew. “You must be smoking for health reasons.” No – that’s not the case.

 Reb Levi Yitzchak turned heavenward and said, “Even when your children commit sins, they tell the truth!”

 And yet, Reb Levi Yitzchak did not hold back in criticizing the Jew who is satisfied with a minimal connection with God. In his Kedushas Levi, Reb Levi Yitzchak looked at our verse in question and creatively explained the way the Torah depicts the sin of the individual. The more a person sincerely serves God, the more the person appreciates the tremendous disparity that exists between the great and Almighty God and the tiny human being.

 But, as in our verse, when a person does one mitzvah and thinks this is an adequate form of serving God, even the one mitzvah is inconsequential. To put it more succinctly – there are mitzvot which people categorize as mitzvot “that I don’t do.” I have the mitzvot that I do, the ones I am comfortable with, the ones that work for me. But there are mitzvot that fall out of my comfort zone, so I never do them. Or, perhaps, I may do it once in a while.

 Reb Levi Yitzchak said that the sin is not the doing of the mitzvah – though he questions whether the occasional trek into mitzvah-doing is worth anything, as opposed to a total commitment to mitzvoth. The sin is in having the attitude that “I have mitzvot that I don’t do” while still feeling that this incompleteness is a proper form of serving God.

 Reb Levi Yitzchak lived in a different time. And while I don’t think his entire message is apropos today – it is certainly not applicable to Jews who know very little about Judaism – there is much introspection demanded of Jews who do know better, who claim to believe in God and who live observant lifestyles, but who opt out of certain mitzvot because “I don’t do those” or who focus on one mitzvah that does work (while ignoring many others) who still think, “I am serving God properly as a Jew.”

 We live in a cynical society where the loudest people are anti-religion. Ironically, the religious population of the United States of America is one of the highest percentages in the world. For people who identify as religious Jews, it behooves us to never be satisfied with our personal status quo, and to continue to challenge ourselves to take more obligations upon ourselves, and to humbly add to our service of God, as we become increasingly aware of that disparity between ourselves and our Creator.
The sin Reb Levi Yitzchak reads into this verse is a sin of arrogance, a sin of minimal obligation and responsibility, and a sin of checking out of mitzvot based on external criteria.

 Let us embrace our responsibilities and obligations, let us be humble, and let us increasingly get closer to God so that the verses in question need not apply to our own Jewish experiences.

Discuss Before Complaining

This also appears in the Jewish Star

B'haalotkha

Bamidbar chapter 11 is an example of the aftermath of someone observing that everything is perfect and cannot get any better, followed by the opposite extreme when things become so bad that they “can’t get any worse.”

Three incidents indicate a breakdown of the rosy image of idyllic travel, and lead up to the devastating event of the spies in chapters 13-14, that causes the generation of the exodus to slowly die out over forty years, never to reach the promised land.

Let us examine the first of these incidents.

“The people began to complain, and it was evil in G-d’s ears. When G-d heard it, He displayed His anger, and G-d’s fire flared out, consuming the edge of the camp. The people cried out to Moses, and when Moses prayed to G-d, the fire died down. ” (11:1-2)

Firstly, the language that describes this fire is very similar to the language describing the fire that killed Nadav and Avihu in Vayikra 10. Perhaps the “consuming fire” in both cases strikes down those who were meant to die from a previous incident.

In Shmot 24:10-11, Nadav, Avihu, and the elders all catch a glimpse of G-d, which Rashi explains as requiring a death sentence (most likely related to Shmot 33:20), which was commuted at that time – but carried out later. Nadav and Avihu died at the dedication of the Mishkan, and the elders died here (Rashi in Shmot 24; see also Chizkuni here).

Lesson #1

Perhaps we can say, “You can run, but you can never hide” from your past. Those guilty of misdeeds eventually have it catch up to them, particularly when other people were involved or hurt by their deeds.

Other Ways to Interpret

But there are other interpretations of the complainers’ identity, their complaints and why all was considered evil.

Many commentaries focus on the prefix and root of “k’mit’on’nim,” suggesting different shorashim (possible roots) and questioning why the people were “as if,” and not “actual” complainers.

Different interpretations of their complaint include: they wanted to separate from G-d (Rashi); now that they were sojourning, they were concerned about the difficulties of the journey (many commentaries); they thought the world predated G-d, which would mean there is no reason to fear G-d (Toldot Yitzchak); that Mishkan work had been taken from the firstborns of all the tribes and given to the Levites (which makes this a preview to Korach’s complaint, where fire will again consume the guilty) (Meshekh Chokhmah).

Most interesting are those who say the root of the word is “Onen,” as in a person who has yet to bury a deceased relative. According to the Daat Zekenim, this kind of mourning is the negativity they carried with them to their desert travels.

Kli Yakar, on the other hand, focuses on the backward letters “nun” which comes immediately before our tale, and also appear doubled in the word “k’mit’on’nim.” He examines complaints that follow in this chapter about lack of meat, and about the laws of sexual conduct, as delineated in Vayikra 18 and 20.

He claims the people accepted a suppressed desire after learning the latter rules, until the hidden message of “Vayhi Binsoa Ha’Aron” (end of chapter 10) reminded them of the importance of procreation. Men were now “willing” to procreate with every woman, until they remembered the laws of Vayikra 18 and 20. They now became like “Onenim” – new mourners who separate from their spouses, complaining of their catch-22. “We want to procreate, but we are limited in possible partners.”

The result of their complaints against Moshe and G-d for curbing their enthusiasm to fulfill the commandment, a fire of G-d consumed their fire of passion, says Kli Yakar, and those on the fringes were killed.

Lesson #2

The beauty of halakhah lies in the fact that much is still up for discussion – kashrut standards, medical ethics, the role of women, definitions of zmanim (times) and sizes of “shiurim” (amounts).

Rules that are explicit in the Torah, however, are not up for discussion. Whether they be of an appropriate way: for a person to see G-d, to violate the arayot of Vayikra 18 and 20, to suggest anything pre-dated G-d, or to complain about the Levites receiving special privileges, or any one of the Torah’s prohibitions, Jews who follow the Torah are going to have an impossible task declaring them void and unbinding.

In our free country, everything boils down to choices. One can choose to be or not to be part of the system. Once in the system, the unequivocal rules are dead-set. Those that might still be open to discussion should be front-burner discussions.

But if we’re going to complain (instead of participating in the give-and-take of dialogue) or flat out reject, then we’re pitting ourselves in the camp of those on the fringes who were destroyed by a fire, mourning over their “loss of freedom” that comes with being part of a collective whole, under G-d.