A Great, Wise, and Understanding People? Right...

Parshat Va'Etchanan

by Rabbi Avi Billet

We are now past Tisha B'Av, and our first Shabbos foray into the synagogue puts us in a position to hear this message from Moshe: "Behold, I have taught you statutes and ordinances, as the Lord, my God, commanded me, to do so in the midst of the land to which you are coming to possess.  And you shall keep [them] and do [them], for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the eyes of the nations, who will hear all these statutes and will say, 'This great nation is only a wise and understanding people.'" (Devarim 4:5-6)

            

I try not to live with blinders on. Which is why reading this triggers an exasperating throw of my hands skyward, along with a look heavenward, and a cry (sometimes aloud, but more often silent because no one is listening) of "Us? When will THIS happen?"

            

Did this happen a long time ago – perhaps during the time of David or Solomon? Did this happen during the time of the first or second Temples? Did this happen during the Talmudic Period? Does it refer to the historical anomaly of the kingdom of the Khazars?

            

It's great that the Kuzari was written by Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi. Would it ever have been written by someone from the "nations" described in the Torah?

            

The only "wisdom of this nation" I hear bandied around is the accusation of the Jews being the Illuminati, or that the Protocols are true. Of course both of these are nonsense. But when the headlines "amongst the nations" (when true) are about Jews who commit abominable deeds – especially Jews who are supposed to know better on account of their Jewish education and upbringing – the Torah (and I shudder to say this) seems to be out to lunch on reality.

            

Of course, the Torah is right. If the Jewish people would only "keep them and do them" – the commandments, that is – we would indeed be a wise and understanding people. A model to all. After all, thievery, physical abuse, cover-ups, dishonesty, slander, etc are all intolerable offenses which have no place in a world governed by Torah ideals.

            

But even so, our Public Relations would still need a lot of work. There are many cynical and skeptical people, Jewish and not Jewish, who believe the Torah mandates the stoning of adulterers (Vayikra 20) and the killing of minors (Devarim 21:20-21, 22:21-24), and the most heinous of punishments not for the perpetrators, but for the victims of sexual abuse (Devarim 22:29).

            

Anyone who makes these claims does not understand the magnitude of Torah knowledge as they look at the verse in its most simplistic translation, and have no concept of the Oral Torah, and thousands of years of rabbinic discussions addressing what these cases mean, and whether the punishments described in the Torah were ever carried out en masse or were more fixated on demonstrating the gravity of the sin, while life itself was valued.

            

The Talmud (Makkot 7) claims that courts did not exercise capital punishment. At worst, it was a very rare occurrence. And the conditions leading to such were almost impossible to attain: valid witnesses, proper warning, zero contradictions in testimony.

            

We live in a time when Sharia law, which takes some of the Biblical laws literally (or at least as prescribed in the Quran), and practices the worst kinds of corporal punishment, is on the rise in the world, in practice and acceptance, even in some Western countries.

Halakha, on the other hand, which has so many varying opinions and is a system which can help people live meaningful and fulfilling lives following various schools of interpretation, isn't growing beyond very small circles of Jews.

            

And it has become a major turnoff to many Jews who do not observe. This is wisdom? This is understanding? What are we doing wrong?

            

We are not as Jewishly educated as we ought to be. Even our rabbis and educators, and certainly a large majority of our flock do not have a mastery of Tanakh, Talmud and Halakhic literature.

            

We spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on the education of every child in his/her lifetime, yet we (and our children) can't read Hebrew, can't translate Hebrew, and have no patience to tackle a new text. We review the same laws every year, and we still don't know basic synagogue practice and basic holiday practice. Or what it means to live a life of "hatznea leches" – living a modest existence in which we do not call unnecessary attention to ourselves.

            

We preach about lashon hara, but we don't know the difference between a to'eles (discussion with a purpose) and what is pure besmirching and slander. Even as we wring our hands with dismay at the chillul Hashem, we enjoy reading all the dirt in the press about Jewish people who "look frum" who conduct themselves in ways that are anything but…

            

We talk about people doing teshuvah, but we are unaccepting of people we believe can't do teshuvah.

            

The Jewish criminals don't represent us. But we are not doing a good enough job of representing ourselves through living and modeling a Torah life that will cause others to say, "This is a great nation, wise and understanding."

            

Let the recent mourning period of Av serve as a reminder that we have a long way to go. May we find the strength to live up to our mandate from the Torah, to truly be a model nation.

To Protect Others From Falling

Parshat Mishpatim 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

תלמוד בבלי מסכת יומא דף פז עמוד א - 

וכל המחטיא את הרבים אין מספיקין בידו לעשות תשובה 

"If a man (though it likely refers to man or woman) opens a pit, or uncovers a pit, and does not cover it (i.e. leaves it uncovered when not working on it), and an ox or donkey fall into it, the owner of the pit (e.g. the one who opened it) must pay money to the owner of the animal, and the [animal's] carcass belongs to him." (21:33-34)

Rashbam spells out the debate regarding to whom the carcass belongs – to whom does "to him" refer? The overall consensus seems to be that the owner is paid and keeps the carcass (Rashi and others). Chizkuni proposes that since the damager is paying in full, he gets to keep the carcass.

I am taking a homiletical leap off the page, because there is a deep lesson that can be taken from the principle involved in this case. The pit is essentially a stumbling block before an unsuspecting being – in this case an animal unprepared to take a potentially dangerous fall – which renders the one responsible for creating the stumbling block as responsible for the ensuing damages which result from the carelessness. The debate over who keeps the carcass can be translated to reflect an idea that both people – the one who causes the stumble (a sin to be committed) as well as the unsuspecting "owner" of the fallen entity (the ensuing "sin") - have ownership over the "carcass," or the sin that wallows in its own negative state.

The Mishnah in Bava Kama 26a says "Adam Muad L'olam," that a person is always responsible for one's choices and actions. Generally this refers to the financial obligations one has for damaging another's property – willfully or accidentally. Even if I leave someone's item on my night-table and accidentally knock it over while I am sleeping, I am responsible. I should have left it in a safer place.

The exception to the rule are cases of "oness" (אונס) – where I am blameless because I was behaving properly and someone else caused me to damage something. If I break something because someone throws me on it, or places it in front of my car as I am driving, or smashes against my property in a manner that is their own fault, I am blameless.

There are many stumbling blocks that we face on a regular basis – it is part of living in a real world. We are tempted with our eyes, we are tempted to gossip, we are tempted to break laws – including those we don't like (e.g. taxes) and those that don't make any sense (e.g. some traffic laws). We are tempted to have the greatest comeback lines, to hurt people with words, and even to hurt people physically.

            

How often do we hear public figures apologizing for things they have said, apologizing for having "misspoken," or for saying things they didn't really mean? (Think Chuck Hagel)

            

When we are loud and obnoxious, we cause others to think ill of us, tempt them to speak lashon hara about us, and may cause them to violate "Do not hate your brother in your heart" (Vayikra 19:17).

            

When we don't take care of ourselves, in appearance (looking shlumpy) and being morbidly obese (excluding reasonable "overweight," and real medical conditions), we cause others to stare, to talk about us, and to judge us. (See Ramban on Vayikra 19:2)

           

When we are scrupulous (or not) about certain stringencies (cholov yisrael in America comes to mind), if we claim those who are not stringent are eating "non-kosher," or say about those who are stringent that they are "totally crazy," we are spreading slander and causing others to look askance at people who are doing nothing wrong.

When we dress provocatively, we invite others to have inappropriate thoughts about us, to look at things they should not be enticed to look at, and to possibly sin in their hearts and minds. People certainly make private choices about how to act upon the things they see – in billboards, in magazines, and on the internet, etc. But that is between them and God. Certainly if they take action involving another person, that becomes their own fault as well. But if we are at fault for causing the private behaviors on account of our choices, those of us who put others in this kind of spiritual harm's way are to blame for the stumbling block, and must "pay" for enticing others to fall. Even if everyone dresses that way at the gym, beach or swimming pool.

  

We live in a world that is challenging enough. With social media, a camera on everything we own, and the ability to share thoughts and messages instantly and worldwide at the click of a button, we must not only be extra careful about what we share and how we share it, but extra careful about how we present ourselves and how others perceive us on account of those choices.

            

There are times when people "check themselves" in my presence, from language choices, or content-of-comment choices, saying things like, "Sorry, rabbi." Why? Am I more obligated to curb my behavior than you are? Am I judging you? Or does my title remind you that there's a Higher Being to Whom we bow, so to speak, and before Whom we must answer one day for our choices?

Any real "Rabbi" will be the first to tell you that rabbis are flawed humans like everyone else, and have similar challenges in terms of stumbling blocks we all face. Everyone "klops Al Cheit" on Yom Kippur. Some rabbis (as well as many devout Jews) take the reminder of the fallout – repercussions from bad choices – seriously, and choose to behave properly as much as possible.

But we all have an obligation to consider the repercussions of the things we say, how we speak, and the ways in which we present ourselves to others in language, dress and commitment to God, in our avoidance of placing pits before others, causing them to stumble.

The donkey and ox are not looking or wanting to step into a pit to injure themselves or die. And those who are exposed to the behaviors that cause them to "fall" would usually prefer to not be tempted by those of us, particularly Torah-observant Jews, who should know better than to present such pitfalls before others who share similar responsibilities in our efforts to maintain a Godly existence.

What are you going to do with the "carcass" of the sin you caused another to commit?

The Unified Commitment

Parshat Yitro

by Rabbi Avi Billet

It is quite uncommon for the entirety of the Jewish people to agree about something. I would venture to bet that all of the Jews agree to the historical and national significance of the Land of Israel, but not all Jews agree as to the validity of the State of Israel (this disagreement is a shame).

All Jews agree that Hebrew is a Jewish language. But not all agree that it's "the" Jewish language. (ditto)

Moshe tells God's words to the people, "And the entire nation responded, united, and they said, 'All that God has spoken we will do!' And Moshe returned the words of the people to God." (19:8)

The Midrash (Pesikta) notes that "they did not answer thus in adulation or with flattery, one answering for the other. Rather they answered united with one heart. Even though we have not heard all of the things (all that He has commanded us – Midrash Sechel Tov adds) – we will do them."

A very rare unified voice!

Were they really unified?

The Alshich explains that there are two schools of thought in understanding their collective declaration. Either they believed Moshe's words because God had spoken them – everything that you have said in God's name we will do. Or, all that God has surely ('vadai') said we will do – as long as we know it's from Him, to the exclusion of what you have said of your own accord. In other words – we want to hear it specifically from Him.

The Alshich notes that Moshe understood them to mean the first interpretation (unified with Moshe), while God understood they had in mind the second interpretation (unified in not wanting to hear from Moshe). God's response, therefore, was "to come down in a cloud" (19:9), because they don't believe you, Moshe, and I want them to believe you. My coming in the cloud is so they can hear Me speaking to you.

The whole premise of these "possibilities" is disturbing, particularly in light of the verse right before the Az Yashir song, "And they believed in God and in Moshe his servant." (14:31)

Perhaps it goes back to the question made famous by the Marx Brothers, "Who are you going to believe? Me, or your own eyes?" They believed in Moshe at the Sea. But they still didn't believe him at Sinai. Until, apparently, the cloud came down on the mountain.

Rabbenu Bachaye notes the Talmudic tale of God lifting the mountain over them (Shabbos 88a) explaining that the pressure was to accept the Oral Law. But the Written Law was accepted willingly, with a great desire, with joy and gladdened hearts.

It is known, however that despite all these acceptances and promises, it is literally impossible for any person to fulfill all of the mitzvot of the Torah. Some are only for men, some for women, some for Kohanim, some for Leviim, some only for Yisraelim. [To bring one simple example: Many people never get divorced and thus never write a get.] The Meshech Hokhmah notes that the acceptance here is to do the mitzvot which are relevant to each individual's circumstance. Otherwise, the acceptance is to learn about and understand the details of the commandments one can not fulfill.

What is included in "all that God has spoken?" Is it everything that was said until that point? Was it a commitment to what will soon be spoken, exchanged between Moshe and God, and subsequently heard by the people? Did it include all that would be recorded in the Tanakh (24 books of the Bible)?

According to the Talmud (Berakhot 5a), all of the ideas recorded in the Bible were given over at Sinai to be recorded in written form later on. This idea is elaborated upon in the Machzor Vitri (Chapter 424).

One of the important teachings of the Torah is "not to desecrate My name" (Vayikra 22:32). One of the important teachings recorded in the Prophets is, "He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk discreetly/humbly with your God" (Micha 6:8)

With the "yeshiva break" behind us, as life returns to its normal routine, it is incumbent upon us to ask ourselves if in our travels we demonstrated our commitment to "Do all that God said," "not to desecrate God's name," and "to walk humbly with our God."

When away from home, some people tend to let the "doing all God said" part of our lives slide a bit, some tend to be loud and obtrusive, to call attention to themselves, or forget that when not in one's usual environment, one does not blend in and go unnoticed. On the contrary, we are more scrutinized than in our home environments because we are clearly visitors. (Your choice to believe me or your own eyes!)

If we are truly committed to doing all God said, we must take a very careful "cheshbon hanefesh" (reflection) and resolve to be models of "Kiddush Hashem" behavior, wherever future journeys may take us.

Following the thought of the Meshech Hokhmah, these are commitments we can all relate to, as they are incumbent upon all of us. Hopefully, united, we can all agree on this one!

Home, Family, and a Rulebook

Parshat Bo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In the midst of the tumult surrounding the last of the plagues we are given our first dose of the mitzvot. The Israelites in Egypt were instructed to take what is commonly translated as a "hyssop" branch, dip it into the pre-gathered blood of the lamb, and paint the doorposts and mantle before staying indoors for the rest of the night. (12:22)

In 12:24 we are told to "guard this thing as a statute for you and your children forever," but the Talmud (Pesachim 96) clarifies that this statement refers to the commandment of the Paschal lamb, which rounds out the end of 12:21.

The rest of the fifth aliyah, which concludes with 12:28, speaks of the conversation that will ensue with your children one day when you continue to practice these everlasting laws when you'll be living in the land. Perhaps these verses are a hint to the practice that is arguably most widespread in Jewish life: having a seder on Passover.

The Torah's narrative returns to the tale of the final plague before concluding the chapter with more instruction surrounding how the holiday is to be observed. "It must be eaten in one home. Do not bring any of its meat outside of the home…" (12:46)

The set of rules essentially concludes with the most important of all. "There shall be one law for the native and the proselyte who lives among you." (12:49)

There are two points in this depiction of the first seder that are extraordinarily compelling.

The first is the focus on the family, and on what goes on indoors, inside the protection of the home. While it is understood that in Egypt, on that evening, it was dangerous to go outside, sometimes we are confronted with the reality that every venture outside of the home is dangerous. I speak not of physical danger from a "supernatural destroyer" or even from law-breaking citizens. Frankly, we are all at risk every day of being involved in an automobile accident, G-d forbid, yet we know this will not prevent us from going outside.

When we leave our homes, and when we bring outside influences into our homes, such as certain magazines, advertisements, and different kinds of media, we lose the protective strength of the walls of our home.

The Jewish family is meant to be a unit which certainly "eats" together, but which also learns and grows together. Everything that is brought into the home that does not strengthen the walls has the potential to weaken the family bond and the Torah foundation that is meant to tie it all together.

The meat of the Paschal lamb is not to be taken outdoors because some things cannot survive outside of the home. Rabbi Menachem Recanati, the author of a Kabbalistic commentary on the Torah, writes that the meat remains in the home so that "the blessing will remain there,” since “blessings only remain on modest things."

The essence of the Jewish home is governed by modesty. Modesty in how we behave, how we think, how we talk, how we relate to others, how we view ourselves in relation to G-d, and how much we allow outside influences (non-Torah oriented or Torah-originated) to dictate who we are and how we live our lives.

The second lesson to be derived from the first seder is that there is one rulebook, and that all are equal in the eyes of the law. This is not to suggest that there is no room for accommodation and for doing what we can to make others comfortable. However, in a sense, the Torah is suggesting that once we give everyone the same rulebook, and once everyone is on a level playing field, there is no room for affirmative action. No one gets a free pass on account of ignorance, and no one gets privileges on account of being members of a particular group, unless it is expressed otherwise in the rulebook.

"One law for the native and the proselyte" means all are treated equally, and everyone must play by the same rules. Education is available to all. What do we do with the education opportunities? Participation is available to all – governed by a set of rules. In what way do we choose to capitalize on our participatory opportunities? Weddings, bar/bat mitzvahs, brisses ought to have a shared significance across the spectrum of Judaism. When the perspective is lost as to how these events are to effect our lives, impact our Jewish experience, and further commit ourselves to Godliness, we begin to wonder when, where and how we lost our way. Bar and Bat Mitzvah, for example, have become an industry, where the significance of responsibility and accountability to God, Torah and the Jewish people is largley misplaced.

May we merit to see a time when all the Jewish people follow the same rulebook, when the choices that are made are understood for what they were meant to be.

The seder is one ritual that still has it right, because the focus is on the family unit. It brings everyone together, under one roof, to share a tradition that goes back thousands of years, that remains a link to our heritage that crosses all boundaries.

Looking Like An Egyptian

Parshat Sh'mot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

From his first introduction to us, most of the Torah depicts Moshe as the quintessential leader par excellence. The ultimate Jewish figure, he continues to hold that enigmatic quality that Jewish mothers dream about for their children — “Maybe one day you can be as great as Moses.”

And yet, there is one description of him that is so out of character, we wonder how it came to pass that he would be called such. After Moshe saves the daughters of Yitro from the shepherds who were mistreating them, they tell their father that an “Ish Mitzri,” an Egyptian man, saved them from the shepherds (2:19).

Oddly enough, only two other people in the Torah are described as “Ish Mitzri.” The first is Potiphar, Yosef’s first Egyptian master (Bereshit 39:1). The second is the man Moshe killed earlier in our chapter, for striking the Hebrew slave (2:11). The term appears in Vayikra 24:10 as well, but most people identify the Ish Mitzri there (the father of the blasphemer) as the same Egyptian man that Moshe killed in 2:11.

Certainly Moshe has little, if anything, in common with Potiphar and the violent Egyptian. How could the Torah give him the same title as these other Egyptian men?

I do not yet have an explanation as to whether a comparison to Potiphar is valid, unless in his case, as in Moshe’s, it refers to a member of Egyptian aristocracy.

Regardless, Rabbenu Bachaye records a beautiful interpretation that appears in a number of places in the Midrash. Yitro’s daughters were thanking their lucky stars that Moshe was present at the well. It was his flight on account of killing the “Ish Mitzri” of 2:11 that brought him to Midian. In this light, they were saying that the circumstances that brought Moshe to be at that well to save them was on account of an Ish Mitzri whom Moshe killed. In this interpretation, the last three times the term appears in the Torah all refer to the same Ish Mitzri - while the term is not being used to describe Moshe.

Of course, the simple explanation is that Moshe, who grew up in the palace of the king, was dressed like and spoke the language of an Egyptian.

I think that his being an Ish Mitzri here is just another challenge for him to overcome in the pursuit of his identity. Different Midrashim paint his time period in Midian to between 40 and 60 years, meaning he’ll have much time to contemplate who he is and what his mission in life will ultimately be.

The story is told that when the Russian Tzar decreed the Jews could no longer wear “Jewish” clothing, many rabbis felt the need to oppose the legislation and to wear Jewish clothing at all costs. The Kotzker rebbe, on the other hand, was against such an approach, as he felt the only real “Jewish clothing” are the tallis and techelet, both of which can always be worn, either when praying, or underneath one’s outer garments.

Moshe was dressed like a Mitzri, even though he was a Hebrew, says the Midrash. He demonstrated his concern for the other in every encounter he had in the Torah's first depictions of his behavior.

For us, the question becomes one of how much our dressing like the “mitzri” affects who we are as Hebrews. I recall fondly one of the musser talks I heard from one of my high school rebbeim about how “the clothes make the man.” I wonder if I remain a more conservative dresser, to this day, on account of that 20 minute monologue.

I still marvel over how many of us fall into the trap of “needing” to be up-to-date in terms of styles and accessories. While the Kotzker rebbe was right that “Jewish clothing” are a tallis and techeilet, there is also a “Jewish dress code” that the Kotzker rebbe felt no need to refer to because he lived in a time when everyone dressed more conservatively.

The Jewish dress code of modesty is not just one of how much skin or form is exposed to onlookers. That element, one would hope, is more obvious. Modesty is also about how much attention we draw to ourselves on account of what we are wearing. There is nothing wrong with receiving a compliment from those we know, but if even those we don’t know are turning heads and gaping at our chosen form of attire, it is time to reconsider our priorities and whether we are looking too much like a “mitzri.”

Whether Yitro’s daughters referred to the Egyptian Moshe killed or thought he himself was an Egyptian, it did not take long for Moshe to set the record straight and eventually become Moshe Rabbenu. We must take the bull by the horns, swallow our need to be a walking showcase for the latest design and designers and focus on promoting the Jewish dress code of modesty and furthering our own spiritual pursuits.

It’s not just about what part of us people see. It is more about how people see us. And unlike Moshe who soon joined the family who may have viewed him otherwise, we don’t always get to set the record straight.

Taking Clothes Out of Egypt

This appears here in the Jewish Star

Clothes for the road

Parshat Bo
Issue of January 22, 2010/ 7 Shvat 5770

Before the instruction of “Hachodesh hazeh lachem” established the calendar for the Israelite nation, G-d told Moshe, “Now speak to the people discreetly and let each man request from his friend gold and silver articles. Let every woman make [the same] request of her friends.” (11:2)

This instruction follows the assurance God made to Moshe at the burning bush (3:21-22), and the promise God made to Avraham in Bereishit 15:14.

From the text in our Torah portion, it does not seem that the Israelites acted upon these instructions until later, after the plague of the Death of the Firstborns had taken its toll.

In 12:29-32, the plague takes place, the quite-defeated Paroh locates Moshe to tell him to take all his people and animals and to go worship their God as they had been requesting.

In 12:33, the Egyptian people seem to chase the Israelites with an unspoken “good riddance,” with the hope that the source of their misery — the Israelite/Hebrew slaves and their God — might not return.

The following verses detail the last things they did before leaving: 34 “The people took their dough before it could rise. Their leftover dough was wrapped in their robes [and placed] on their shoulders.” 35 “The Israelites [also] did as Moses had said. They requested silver and gold articles and clothing from the Egyptians.” 36 “God made the Egyptians respect the people, and they granted their request. [The Israelites] thus drained Egypt of its wealth.”

If we look back at the quote from 11:2 (first paragraph above), we see they were not commanded to request clothing. God only mentioned gold and silver articles, so how could 12:35 suggest they did as Moshe had told them?

Toldot Yitzchak warns us not to bring proofs from 3:22 when God indicated they will be leaving with clothing as well, because that was more of a strategy God was aware of than a commandment, the people would ask for clothing to give them more of a chance to delay the Exodus until the morning, rather than be forced to leave at night.

When 12:35 says, “the Israelites did as Moshe had said,” Toldot Yitzchak explains, this refers not to their borrowing of items but to the more important command of not leaving their homes until the morning (12:22). Just because Paroh had come out to see Moshe does not mean the danger had passed and that people could come outside.

If their “fulfillment of Moshe’s instruction” consisted of staying indoors, where did they get the idea to request clothing? As far as we can tell, the people were never instructed to request anything other than silver and gold. [Interestingly, Targum Yonatan leaves out the request for clothing in his interpretation of the verse.]

Toldot Yitzchak says there were two groups — “ha’am” — the masses who were unaware of proper protocol and left their homes in the night time when the Egyptians forced them out (12:33), and the “Bnei Yisrael” proper, who knew the rules, and would not budge from their homes until morning came. But as they were being prodded, they began requesting that clothing be brought to them, insisting they could not leave without proper attire.

Thus, those who asked for clothes were not following specific instructions to load up their suitcases, but were using delay tactics to stall until the morning when all of the people would leave together.

How long does it take to decide which jewelry you want to borrow? Not very long. Most people think, “If it is expensive, I’ll take it.”

Clothing is a different matter. Many people will only take clothing that looks nice on them, no matter how nice the clothing may be. Clothing is more a matter of personal taste than is jewelry.

Now we are left to understand the nature of the requests for the items in question.

Commentaries differ, and provide an entire range of interpretations as to whether the Israelites were requesting or “borrowing,” seeking compensation or a severance package, taking booty from their defeated enemies, accepting a peace offering for the God who defeated Egypt, or even giving cause to be chased after for the final pounding in the Red Sea.

No matter the specific interpretation, it is hard to imagine the word “she’eilah,” meaning “borrow,” in this context. In many places in the Bible, a “she’eilah” is a flat out request with no intent to return anything. And in the context of freeing slaves (Bereishit 31, Devarim 15 and Devarim 23), rather than leaving empty-handed, a slave is supposed to be let free with compensation for years of labor or toil, minimally with the means to make good on his own in the short-term.

For slaves with meager possessions, wealth is certainly warranted. To provide a sense of dignity, proper clothing is essential. While I don’t know what happens in real life, I’ve seen films in which “rehabilitated” prisoners are released from prison with a cheap business suit to give them a sense of dignity, so they can begin to make a go of their new lives looking like a mentch. If the clothes really do “make the man” (or woman), then having and wearing nice clothing is an important step in achieving emancipation.

And when those same garments are flattering, yet modest (says Jewish tradition), they certainly help bring out the essence of the person wearing them.