Parshat Ki Tavo
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Twice in Devarim 9 Moshe mentions that he was up on the mountain for 40 days during which time “I did not eat bread and I did not drink water.” It would seem that this would be part of Moshe’s formula to getting close to God – cut out fluids and carbs for a period of 40 days, and God will be right there with you as you learn the Torah.
Strangely enough, Moshe uses very similar language immediately after the Tokhacha (The Great Rebuke of chapter 28) when he addresses the generation about to enter the Promised Land. “I led you through the wilderness for 40 years… bread you did not eat, you did not drink wine or other alcohol, so that you will know that I am Hashem, your God.” (29:4-5)
I wonder if this is Moshe’s way of telling the people, “You’ve accomplished a lot in 40 years.” Is he suggesting that in 40 years they learned and covered what he had learned and accomplished over 40 days? It certainly is an interesting perspective, supported at least on one level by the parallel in the text.
There is an additional concern, however, which stems from the opening verse of Chapter 29. Moshe tells the people “You saw all that God did before your eyes in Egypt to Pharaoh, his servants, and his country (lit. land, though Malbim explains this to refer to his citizens). All the great miracles your eyes have seen, the signs and the great wonders.”
What is he talking about? Who saw? Moshe has been saying over and over that he is talking to the next generation, that “your parents are dead” etc. So if those who left Egypt are gone, how could Moshe be talking to them?
Ibn Ezra notes that some of them saw the wonders of Egypt, and all of them have seen the wonders of the Manna, as well as the defeat of Sichon and Og. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch adds to this list reminding us that the decree to die in the wilderness was not applied to the tribe of Levi, nor to women, nor to the group that was under age 20 at the time of the Spies incident. Therefore Moshe is, in fact, speaking to many people who witnessed the miracles of Egypt in Egypt.
Malbim is a little more esoteric, noting that Moshe is reminding everyone that what happened in Egypt was strictly God’s way of showing that He does take account of every person’s actions, to give each individual what they have coming to them. Pharaoh, for example, was in his own domain, pushing his own agenda, so he was responsible for his own recalcitrance. Pharaoh’s servants had the opportunity to appeal to Pharaoh to be more beneficent towards the Israelites. The common citizens were to blame for adding difficulties to the plight of the Israelites, contributing to their pain, rather than being righteous gentiles who could have eased the difficulties encumbering the Israelites from having an easier life.
This is an important lesson in seeing life for what it is, rather than playing blame games we so often see people play. Instead of trying to work through problems and difficulties and look and move forward, we try to analyze why something failed, who should be blamed, who needs to take the fall. It may be important in business and politics, but in real life, people need to continue living with one another. So how do we move on?
In his Panim Yafot, R’ Pinchas HaLevi Horowitz has a completely unique perspective, which actually takes the opposite perspective of my original assertion made from a parallel to Moshe’s not having consumed bread for 40 days. Not that they accomplished, but that their 40 years were the ultimate missed opportunity.
He says “Moshe was reproving them for not having been diligent in trying to understand the Torah until the time they were entering Israel, which would naturally elevate their capacity for wisdom (based on Bava Bathra 158b)… At a time when they had no need to concern themselves with their physical needs, because Manna was given to them and their clothing did not need laundering or repair (talk about the ultimate Kollel stipend!) they did not concern themselves with becoming great scholars of Torah.”
And so we’re left with two questions to consider. One – are we the blaming type, or do we concern ourselves with how to address issues? Two – do those of us who have the opportunity to utilize our time for Torah study and getting closer to God actually capitalize on such opportunities?
In one way or another, Moshe is addressing ALL of the Jewish people. Even though many of the people he spoke to had been in Egypt, many more had not been there. Moshe was telling them that no matter how you look at it, this is your story. So all the excuses “I got caught up in something… was reading an article… one more youtube video… the game was on… I can’t help myself when it’s the West Wing… needed to comment on a Facebook post, etc.” are just avoiding facing the problems head on. We need to prioritize where we want to be and what we need to accomplish. When we do that, we can proudly look to Moshe and say that our 40 years of no bread and wine were ones of great accomplishment, because we were mimicking what you did in establishing your connection with God, when you were at the top of Mt. Sinai.
Showing posts with label complaining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label complaining. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
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.
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.
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