Parshat Bechukotai
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the words that stands out in the Tochacha (Rebuke) of Parshat B’chukotai, a word which very clearly refers to bad behavior that people will exhibit towards God, and the consequential response God will display towards those people, is “keri.” Leaving out all the jokes we could make about any government official who may have a similar sounding name, we must ask what the Hebrew word in this context means.
In his Living Torah, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s note on the word, which he translates as “If you are indifferent” towards Me, reads as follows. “Literally, 'If you walk with Me with keri.' Variously translated, 'If you make Me a temporary concern' (Targum Yonathan; Sifra; Rashi; Chizzkuni); 'If you harden yourselves against Me' (Targum; Tosafoth, Rosh HaShanah16a, s.v. Keri); 'If you refuse to walk My way' (Menachem, quoted in Rashi, Rashbam); 'If you become overconfident in your dealings with Me' (Ibn Ezra); 'If you become rebellious against Me' (Saadia; Ibn Janach; Septuagint); 'If you make it a burden to walk with Me' (Targum, according to Rashi); or, 'If You treat My [acts] as accident' (Arukh; Moreh Nevukhim 3:36; Radak, Sherashim). The word keri can thus denote triviality, harshness, refusal, overconfidence, rebellion, a burden, or a natural accident.”
This “comment” is pretty comprehensive, though I will add two more interpretations: The Midrash Aggadah defines keri as meaning Not committed to following My ways. K’tav Ve’Hakabbalah explains the term to refer to being stubborn – intending to strike at God’s honor, and to provoke Him. The result being “God will reign down punishment that strike at you, which you will feel strongly.” The prevailing argument is that there is no comparison between one who violates a sin for pleasure reasons and one who violates just to anger God.
The essence of all of these possibilities can be summarized in two words: Not caring.
Not caring about God. Not caring about mitzvos. Not caring about the Torah. Not caring about other people. Looking to provoke, looking to anger, looking to overturn apple carts, looking to destroy relationships.
The fundamental message in the Rebuke is warnings to avoid turning away from God. And maybe, this whole “not caring” bit is the hidden ingredient that puts a person in the bad camp.
In the Torchacha, the word “keri” appears 7 times: 4 times it refers to how the people will treat God, and 3 times is God saying since you treated Me that way, “I will behave towards you with keri.” Seven is a significant number in the Torah – it reminds us of Shabbos (7 days), of the counting of the Omer (7 weeks), of the years of Shmittah (Sabbatical year – after 7 years), Yovel (Jubilee – 50th year after 7 cycles of Shmittah). The Tochacha itself utilizes the number 7 to declare how manifold God will punish for malfeasance and sin (you got it – 7 times the violation!).
And so, we must ask ourselves, how often is a keri attitude the one which drives our M.O.? I think that most people are not going as far as sinning specifically to anger God. Typically, a person who has a bad moment or a bad episode is succumbing to the evil inclination, is giving into a desire for momentary pleasure which happens to be a sin.
Thank God there is plenty of pleasure for us to imbibe and enjoy without resorting to sinful behaviors and acts! So perhaps, with such a short amount of time before Shavuos, a time when many of us will crack open our Holy Books for our most dedicated hours of learning Torah in the year, we ought to ask ourselves if we care?
If all that we do is merely say things and give lip service to how we are supposed to be, but we don’t put into action the things we learn in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), or take to heart the lesson we we were supposed to learn when poor decisions came back to burn us, we are acting in a way that is a violation of keri.
Let us take the number 7 – whether from the perspective of the specific mitzvos that include the number 7, or simply from noting how it is significant in the Torah, and let us aim to counter the 7 “not carings” in the parsha, to aim to increase our own “caring” sevenfold.
If we care for one another, if we care for our community, if we care for the global Jewish community, if we care for our brothers and sisters in Israel, if we care for God, Torah, Mitzvos, Kiddush Hashem (sanctifying God’s name), not only will the Tochacha not come true, but we will merit to be blessed sevenfold per the blessings that come from fulfilling “Bechukotai telechu” – following God’s ways.
Friday, June 3, 2016
Thursday, May 26, 2016
The Shofar of Jubilee
Parshat Behar
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In its description of the Jubilee year, the Torah tell us in 25:9 that the shofar is to be sounded throughout the land on Yom Kippur of Yovel.
Noting how we don’t blow Shofar when Shabbos falls on Rosh Hashana because of carrying concerns, Netziv asks how can we blow the Shofar on Yom Kippur, which is Shabbos-squared?
Quoting the Talmud (Rosh Hashana 30a), Netziv says that the Torah injunction obligates every single individual to blow the shofar. This is how it is sounded throughout the land – as presumably, if everyone is blowing, no one needs to leave a house in order to do so.
What a profound thought: every person takes a direct grasp of his or her Jewish responsibility, and the fulfillment of the task at hand as a personal mission.
This incredible event, when the collective Am Yisrael unites to create not just a moment together, but an experience to which each person contributes, is meant to last in their hearts and minds for fifty years. Until the young people are old and the people born over the next fifty years can take charge of the Yovel Shofar sounding when it comes around again. For themselves and for their community.
The theme of every person taking charge of personal responsibilities repeats itself in the works of some of the classic commentaries on the Torah.
When the Torah is first given, and the Aseret Hadibrot are declared, the section begins with a reminder to the community – “Atem r’item” – “You [all] saw what God did to the Egyptians….” And yet, as we’ll read on Shavuos, the Ten Commandments are all written in the singular, what you the individual should or should not do.
Ramban notes that this is a reminder to individuals that every person bears a personal responsibility for one’s deeds. No one should feel that he or she will fall into the destiny of the masses, and just as the community will share in a destiny, the individual can roll with the masses and neglect personal obligations. Each person bears a personal, and in turn, a communal responsibility!
Every person is faced with a choice. I can do my mitzvah because I am personally commanded. Or I can do it as a member of a community.
A community should always strive to be greater than the sum of its parts.
In the Jewish communities Orthodox Jews have created, we are blessed and cursed. Cursed that we make it our responsibility to live within walking distance to a shul – so we can’t always live wherever we want. But we are blessed to create a community because of it. We all live near each other, in very relative proximity. And so we step it up for our friends and neighbors, in good times and especially in bad times.
A minyan is made up individuals, but together that makes a powerhouse for prayer – Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik spoke and wrote about how much he cherished davening in a minyan, because of the magic and majesty that comes from praying together. He may have been able to concentrate better when praying alone, but there is no comparison to the electricity felt when praying with a congregation.
The Rambam writes about the shofar on Rosh Hashana that it was meant to be a wake up call. A wake up call to the slumberers to reexamine deeds to remember your Creator.
Those who rest on the laurels of a community and never roll up their own sleeves to help out or contribute money, time, energy are missing the boat. It’s not exactly the same thing, because there’s no mitzvah to make or participate in a kiddush, but I know a man who decided close to 30 years ago that he would never eat at a Kiddush because he realized he never wants to sponsor a Kiddush. That is certainly one way to be consistent, but it also one way to pull away from the community.
Most people might only hear or participate in the Yovel Shofar blowing once in their lifetimes – if lucky, maybe twice. And maybe the collective Shofar blowing, with every Jew participating, was meant to serve as a wakeup call that you only have one life to live. So take your individuality, take your personal mitzvah, take your individual responsibility, and turn it into the most amazing contribution to your community, and to all of Bnei Yisrael.
Yovel may only come around once every fifty years, but we can learn about it and derive inspiration from it at all times.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In its description of the Jubilee year, the Torah tell us in 25:9 that the shofar is to be sounded throughout the land on Yom Kippur of Yovel.
Noting how we don’t blow Shofar when Shabbos falls on Rosh Hashana because of carrying concerns, Netziv asks how can we blow the Shofar on Yom Kippur, which is Shabbos-squared?
Quoting the Talmud (Rosh Hashana 30a), Netziv says that the Torah injunction obligates every single individual to blow the shofar. This is how it is sounded throughout the land – as presumably, if everyone is blowing, no one needs to leave a house in order to do so.
What a profound thought: every person takes a direct grasp of his or her Jewish responsibility, and the fulfillment of the task at hand as a personal mission.
This incredible event, when the collective Am Yisrael unites to create not just a moment together, but an experience to which each person contributes, is meant to last in their hearts and minds for fifty years. Until the young people are old and the people born over the next fifty years can take charge of the Yovel Shofar sounding when it comes around again. For themselves and for their community.
The theme of every person taking charge of personal responsibilities repeats itself in the works of some of the classic commentaries on the Torah.
When the Torah is first given, and the Aseret Hadibrot are declared, the section begins with a reminder to the community – “Atem r’item” – “You [all] saw what God did to the Egyptians….” And yet, as we’ll read on Shavuos, the Ten Commandments are all written in the singular, what you the individual should or should not do.
Ramban notes that this is a reminder to individuals that every person bears a personal responsibility for one’s deeds. No one should feel that he or she will fall into the destiny of the masses, and just as the community will share in a destiny, the individual can roll with the masses and neglect personal obligations. Each person bears a personal, and in turn, a communal responsibility!
Every person is faced with a choice. I can do my mitzvah because I am personally commanded. Or I can do it as a member of a community.
A community should always strive to be greater than the sum of its parts.
In the Jewish communities Orthodox Jews have created, we are blessed and cursed. Cursed that we make it our responsibility to live within walking distance to a shul – so we can’t always live wherever we want. But we are blessed to create a community because of it. We all live near each other, in very relative proximity. And so we step it up for our friends and neighbors, in good times and especially in bad times.
A minyan is made up individuals, but together that makes a powerhouse for prayer – Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik spoke and wrote about how much he cherished davening in a minyan, because of the magic and majesty that comes from praying together. He may have been able to concentrate better when praying alone, but there is no comparison to the electricity felt when praying with a congregation.
The Rambam writes about the shofar on Rosh Hashana that it was meant to be a wake up call. A wake up call to the slumberers to reexamine deeds to remember your Creator.
Those who rest on the laurels of a community and never roll up their own sleeves to help out or contribute money, time, energy are missing the boat. It’s not exactly the same thing, because there’s no mitzvah to make or participate in a kiddush, but I know a man who decided close to 30 years ago that he would never eat at a Kiddush because he realized he never wants to sponsor a Kiddush. That is certainly one way to be consistent, but it also one way to pull away from the community.
Most people might only hear or participate in the Yovel Shofar blowing once in their lifetimes – if lucky, maybe twice. And maybe the collective Shofar blowing, with every Jew participating, was meant to serve as a wakeup call that you only have one life to live. So take your individuality, take your personal mitzvah, take your individual responsibility, and turn it into the most amazing contribution to your community, and to all of Bnei Yisrael.
Yovel may only come around once every fifty years, but we can learn about it and derive inspiration from it at all times.
Friday, May 20, 2016
One Ingredient to Avoid Cruelty
Parshat Emor
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the more blatant ways in which the Torah indicates an anti-cruelty manner of behavior is in the rule of “oto v’et b’no” – that there is an awareness that an animal and its offspring are not be slaughtered on the same day.
I am ignoring the viewpoint that slaughtering animals is an act of cruelty. Any student of the Torah knows that sacrifices and an order for how to take the life of an animal is clearly defined as part of Jewish life.
But just like the sending away of the mother bird is meant to instill in us a sensitivity to how the parent views its young, this mitzvah of not slaughtering the parent and offspring animal is meant to raise this sensitivity of not destroying an entire family – even an animal family – in one day. This mitzvah is particularly played out in Jewish law when an animal is sold on Erev Yom Tov, the purchaser must be told if its parent or offspring was sold that day, so as to be sure to avoid slaughtering the animal that day. (See Rav Ovadiah Yosef, Yechaveh Daat 2:64)
And so the Midrash on this verse teaches us a most profound lesson about the difference between how we operate – even in the permitted realm of taking the lives of animals for food or sacrifice – versus how the cruel enemies of Israel have always conducted themselves, if not in deed then certainly in mindset. Haman is the classic example of a person who wanted to kill all of Israel, young and old, children and women, etc.
Once the Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 27:11) opens the door discussing Haman, it goes on to describe how the ancient Biblical enemies of the Jews each operated, hoping to succeed in destroying the line leading to or stemming from our forefather Avraham.
Eisav declared Kayin a fool because he murdered his brother while his father was still alive. Sure enough, Adam had another son who opened the line to Noach. Eisav said “Only when (after) my father dies I will kill my brother!”
Pharaoh declared Eisav a fool because by the time Eisav would have killed his brother, Yaakov had already fathered the next generation. This is why Pharaoh declared, “Kill the boys as soon as they are born!”
Haman declared Pharaoh a fool because he only targeted the boys. Girls are those who perpetuate Judaism to the children they bear. And so Haman’s decree was to kill every man, woman and child in one fell swoop, on a single day.
Rabbi Levi says that Gog U’Magog, the enemy rulers who will organize their own attempt to destroy Israel in the time immediately before the Final Redemption, look to all these failed attempts at destroying the line of Israel, and declare, “They were all fools. They were plotting to destroy Israel and they disregarded that fact they have a Heavenly protector. I will not be so foolish. I will first align myself with their God, and then I will destroy them.”
Are we living in the era that immediately precedes Gog U’Magog? It is impossible to know for sure. But the rhetoric espoused by certain groups who want to wipe Israel and every Jew off the world-map certainly gives us pause to consider that the shofar sound we’ve anticipated for millennia may be on its way.
We have always known that even when the taking of a life – in the form of an animal for food, etc – is permitted, there are rules that nonetheless govern our course of action. And this sensitive approach has helped us refine our character through the generations, to overwhelmingly oppose violence, except when necessary such as in self-defense, or to carry a moral compass of what is right and just when taking a life, because it is not a question which can ever be haphazard or untainted by the moral dilemma of right and wrong.
May our sensitivities continue to serve as a model for ourselves and the world, as those who do not yet share our values come to realize that the world is big enough for different views, and certainly open for people to live and let live.
We have been champions of such an approach for a very long time. Much of the civilized world gets it. Will those who are not yet civilized come to this realization and recognition? Hopefully, yes, and speedily in our days.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the more blatant ways in which the Torah indicates an anti-cruelty manner of behavior is in the rule of “oto v’et b’no” – that there is an awareness that an animal and its offspring are not be slaughtered on the same day.
I am ignoring the viewpoint that slaughtering animals is an act of cruelty. Any student of the Torah knows that sacrifices and an order for how to take the life of an animal is clearly defined as part of Jewish life.
But just like the sending away of the mother bird is meant to instill in us a sensitivity to how the parent views its young, this mitzvah of not slaughtering the parent and offspring animal is meant to raise this sensitivity of not destroying an entire family – even an animal family – in one day. This mitzvah is particularly played out in Jewish law when an animal is sold on Erev Yom Tov, the purchaser must be told if its parent or offspring was sold that day, so as to be sure to avoid slaughtering the animal that day. (See Rav Ovadiah Yosef, Yechaveh Daat 2:64)
And so the Midrash on this verse teaches us a most profound lesson about the difference between how we operate – even in the permitted realm of taking the lives of animals for food or sacrifice – versus how the cruel enemies of Israel have always conducted themselves, if not in deed then certainly in mindset. Haman is the classic example of a person who wanted to kill all of Israel, young and old, children and women, etc.
Once the Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 27:11) opens the door discussing Haman, it goes on to describe how the ancient Biblical enemies of the Jews each operated, hoping to succeed in destroying the line leading to or stemming from our forefather Avraham.
Eisav declared Kayin a fool because he murdered his brother while his father was still alive. Sure enough, Adam had another son who opened the line to Noach. Eisav said “Only when (after) my father dies I will kill my brother!”
Pharaoh declared Eisav a fool because by the time Eisav would have killed his brother, Yaakov had already fathered the next generation. This is why Pharaoh declared, “Kill the boys as soon as they are born!”
Haman declared Pharaoh a fool because he only targeted the boys. Girls are those who perpetuate Judaism to the children they bear. And so Haman’s decree was to kill every man, woman and child in one fell swoop, on a single day.
Rabbi Levi says that Gog U’Magog, the enemy rulers who will organize their own attempt to destroy Israel in the time immediately before the Final Redemption, look to all these failed attempts at destroying the line of Israel, and declare, “They were all fools. They were plotting to destroy Israel and they disregarded that fact they have a Heavenly protector. I will not be so foolish. I will first align myself with their God, and then I will destroy them.”
Are we living in the era that immediately precedes Gog U’Magog? It is impossible to know for sure. But the rhetoric espoused by certain groups who want to wipe Israel and every Jew off the world-map certainly gives us pause to consider that the shofar sound we’ve anticipated for millennia may be on its way.
We have always known that even when the taking of a life – in the form of an animal for food, etc – is permitted, there are rules that nonetheless govern our course of action. And this sensitive approach has helped us refine our character through the generations, to overwhelmingly oppose violence, except when necessary such as in self-defense, or to carry a moral compass of what is right and just when taking a life, because it is not a question which can ever be haphazard or untainted by the moral dilemma of right and wrong.
May our sensitivities continue to serve as a model for ourselves and the world, as those who do not yet share our values come to realize that the world is big enough for different views, and certainly open for people to live and let live.
We have been champions of such an approach for a very long time. Much of the civilized world gets it. Will those who are not yet civilized come to this realization and recognition? Hopefully, yes, and speedily in our days.
Friday, May 13, 2016
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.
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.
Friday, May 6, 2016
V'Chai Bahem - Truly Living
Parshat Acharei Mot
by Rabbi Avi Billet
God instructs Moshe to tell the people about the importance of observing His statutes and laws. “Keep my decrees and laws that a person can do – and live with them. For I am God.” While that is a more accurate translation, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan has a keen interpretation as his translation, which he credits to the viewpoint of Ralbag, saying, “Keep My decrees and laws, since it is only by keeping them that a person can [truly] live. I am God.” His footnote explains “This teaches that one may violate any commandment of the Torah to save a life” – with the exceptions of murder, idolatry, and immorality.
The focus on “living” is an open question of how life is defined. There are different schools of thought in the works of the rabbis. Rabbenu Bachaye quotes a number of interpretations which will now be presented, as we sort this out together.
The Talmudic view: One should live with the [laws] and not die with them. Don’t have these statutes cause you to lose your life.
The Midrashic view: Live with them – in the world to come. Your performance of mitzvot will give an indication of what your life in the next world will look like.
There are four types of living, of the body and the soul, that are associated with the act of doing mitzvot.
1. A person who has intent when performing mitzvoth, and is doing them to be rewarded with wealth, property, honor, and long life.
2. Someone who has intent when performing mitzvoth, and is doing them to be rewarded in the world to come.
3. A person who has intent to fulfill mitzvoth out of love, with no condition or contingent to be rewarded in this world. This person merits to have a meaningful life in this world and in the world to come. [An example of this kind of living was modeled by our Forefathers – Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov]
4. Someone who is involved in mitzvoth only, with no physical concerns, to the point that he seems to be without a body, simply that his heart and thoughts are with God all the time. This person merits to live forever, and death has no power over him. Examples are Hanokh and Elijah.
There are also 4 kinds of lives people merit to have through observance of Torah and mitzvoth.
1. One lives as people live, with longevity, and their souls are maintained in their bodies on account of their attention to their health.
2. Some almost have a rebirth after an illness, and after having a close brush with death.
3. There is a life that comes after forgiveness – after having been wicked (which is considered “like dead”) – after a person has repented and changes one’s ways, and the person is now considered “alive.”
4. Finally, the life that exists after death – which is referred to in the term “techiyat hamaytim” (resurrection of the dead).
When we look back at Rabbi Kaplan’s translation of the phrase “V’Chai Bahem,” perhaps we can now appreciate the depth of how a person can “truly live” through the observance of Mitzvot. While I think we can all agree that the life of the evil and wicked is antithetical to a Godly existence, and antithetical to the normative experience of normal people who want to go about their lives doing good and avoiding harming others, the question is what makes a life truly worth it, what fills a life with meaning?
Every religion has their own answer. Philosophers have their explanations.
For the Jewish people, since the time of the Exodus, when we switched from being slaves to Pharaoh to being subjects of the Almighty, we have made the choice that the meaningful life is the one which is dedicated to serving God through the study of His Torah, and the performance of His commandments. What would the world look like if all Jews tapped into this truth? What kind of higher level of meaning could be attained through the influence of people who understood completely what it means to live a life of “Kiddush Hashem” – giving a good name to God and Jewish people?
Sometimes some of us forget how identifiably Jewish we are when we go to a store or on vacation or to a ball game. It behooves us to always remember that others are watching. And that “V’Chai Bahem” also means to model a life of meaning when around other people – a life which is defined by humility, graciousness, and a sense that we are truly servants of the Almighty.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
God instructs Moshe to tell the people about the importance of observing His statutes and laws. “Keep my decrees and laws that a person can do – and live with them. For I am God.” While that is a more accurate translation, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan has a keen interpretation as his translation, which he credits to the viewpoint of Ralbag, saying, “Keep My decrees and laws, since it is only by keeping them that a person can [truly] live. I am God.” His footnote explains “This teaches that one may violate any commandment of the Torah to save a life” – with the exceptions of murder, idolatry, and immorality.
The focus on “living” is an open question of how life is defined. There are different schools of thought in the works of the rabbis. Rabbenu Bachaye quotes a number of interpretations which will now be presented, as we sort this out together.
The Talmudic view: One should live with the [laws] and not die with them. Don’t have these statutes cause you to lose your life.
The Midrashic view: Live with them – in the world to come. Your performance of mitzvot will give an indication of what your life in the next world will look like.
There are four types of living, of the body and the soul, that are associated with the act of doing mitzvot.
1. A person who has intent when performing mitzvoth, and is doing them to be rewarded with wealth, property, honor, and long life.
2. Someone who has intent when performing mitzvoth, and is doing them to be rewarded in the world to come.
3. A person who has intent to fulfill mitzvoth out of love, with no condition or contingent to be rewarded in this world. This person merits to have a meaningful life in this world and in the world to come. [An example of this kind of living was modeled by our Forefathers – Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov]
4. Someone who is involved in mitzvoth only, with no physical concerns, to the point that he seems to be without a body, simply that his heart and thoughts are with God all the time. This person merits to live forever, and death has no power over him. Examples are Hanokh and Elijah.
There are also 4 kinds of lives people merit to have through observance of Torah and mitzvoth.
1. One lives as people live, with longevity, and their souls are maintained in their bodies on account of their attention to their health.
2. Some almost have a rebirth after an illness, and after having a close brush with death.
3. There is a life that comes after forgiveness – after having been wicked (which is considered “like dead”) – after a person has repented and changes one’s ways, and the person is now considered “alive.”
4. Finally, the life that exists after death – which is referred to in the term “techiyat hamaytim” (resurrection of the dead).
When we look back at Rabbi Kaplan’s translation of the phrase “V’Chai Bahem,” perhaps we can now appreciate the depth of how a person can “truly live” through the observance of Mitzvot. While I think we can all agree that the life of the evil and wicked is antithetical to a Godly existence, and antithetical to the normative experience of normal people who want to go about their lives doing good and avoiding harming others, the question is what makes a life truly worth it, what fills a life with meaning?
Every religion has their own answer. Philosophers have their explanations.
For the Jewish people, since the time of the Exodus, when we switched from being slaves to Pharaoh to being subjects of the Almighty, we have made the choice that the meaningful life is the one which is dedicated to serving God through the study of His Torah, and the performance of His commandments. What would the world look like if all Jews tapped into this truth? What kind of higher level of meaning could be attained through the influence of people who understood completely what it means to live a life of “Kiddush Hashem” – giving a good name to God and Jewish people?
Sometimes some of us forget how identifiably Jewish we are when we go to a store or on vacation or to a ball game. It behooves us to always remember that others are watching. And that “V’Chai Bahem” also means to model a life of meaning when around other people – a life which is defined by humility, graciousness, and a sense that we are truly servants of the Almighty.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
The Two Hallels of Pesach
Not "whole" and "half"
Pesach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are two Hallels (paragraphs dedicated uniquely to praising God) in the book of Tehillim (Psalms). One is called Hallel Mitzrayim (The Egyptian Hallel), and the other is called Hallel HaGadol (the Great Hallel).
Hallel Mitzrayim is the one we are most familiar with, Tehillim 113-118, while Hallel HaGadol is defined differently by different early Rabbinic authorities. Basically everyone agrees that it includes Tehillim 136 (Tosefta Taanit 2:17, Sofrim 18:3), while how far it extends in the chapters before and after Chapter 136 is debated in the Talmud Pesachim 118a. One view extends it into 135, while another view includes some (or perhaps all) of the Shir Hamaalots, which are chapters 120-134.
In Mesekhet Sofrim (ibid), the passage talks about the special “Song of the day” which is to be recited on the different holidays of the year. Hallel HaGadol (ch. 136) is designated as the special song of the last day of Pesach.
Before debating over the definition of Hallel HaGadol, the Talmud tells us in the name of Rabbi Tarfon that for the 4th cup of wine at the Seder, we recite all of Hallel (meaning Hallel Mitzrayim), and we also say Hallel HaGadol.
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi notes that there are 26 verses in Hallel HaGadol, corresponding to the 26 generations from Adam until the Torah was given, noting how “the world was sustained through God’s kindness for 26 generations” before the world changed with the Torah having been given to the Jewish people. The refrain ending each line in 136, “ki l’olam chasdo” – that His kindness endures forever, could also be understood to mean that His kindness is for the world (note to grammarians: I am aware that there is a difference between a “patach” and a “shva na” under the lamed!).
Perhaps this is why it is called the “Great” Hallel – because it talks so much about the greatness of God, Whose name has the numerical value (gematria) of 26 as well.
Both Hallels are part of our Haggadah. We say the full Hallel Mitzrayim – though broken up between “Maggid” and “Hallel” – at the Seder, and we also say Hallel HaGadol.
In its own way, one can argue that Hallel HaGadol (136) parallels Dayenu in the sense that a number of statements about God’s greatness are declared, concluding with a phrase that emphasizes God’s greatness, kindness to our people, and a reason to give thanks.
All told, both Hallels cover a range of topics and reasons to give thanks to God – mostly for the events of the past, but, in the case of the end of Hallel HaGadol, even until today. The conclusion of “God gives bread to all flesh” and “Give thanks to the God of the Heavens” are verses that indicate God’s role in our lives until this day.
Hopefully everyone has a place for the Seder and plans for the holiday. And hopefully through our recitations of these Hallels, which we should view as a privilege rather than as a burden tagged on to the end of the Seder, after the meal, we can come to an appreciation of the good we have in our lives. It is not always easy to see, between terror and anti-Semitism which continue to devastate our people around the world, and the struggles and difficulties many face on a day to day basis (in relationships, financially, etc.), that God is in our lives.
Hopefully, when we sit down at the Seder and thank all those who helped put it together, we can also give thanks and Hallel to God for sustaining us until this time, and having given us the opportunity to once again sing His praises because we appreciate the role He plays in our lives, every day. Even when things are bleak, there is good to be found. Both Hallels are meant to remind us of God’s role in the past redemptions, in our current sustenance, and hopefully in the not-too-distant future, in the final redemption.
Pesach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are two Hallels (paragraphs dedicated uniquely to praising God) in the book of Tehillim (Psalms). One is called Hallel Mitzrayim (The Egyptian Hallel), and the other is called Hallel HaGadol (the Great Hallel).
Hallel Mitzrayim is the one we are most familiar with, Tehillim 113-118, while Hallel HaGadol is defined differently by different early Rabbinic authorities. Basically everyone agrees that it includes Tehillim 136 (Tosefta Taanit 2:17, Sofrim 18:3), while how far it extends in the chapters before and after Chapter 136 is debated in the Talmud Pesachim 118a. One view extends it into 135, while another view includes some (or perhaps all) of the Shir Hamaalots, which are chapters 120-134.
In Mesekhet Sofrim (ibid), the passage talks about the special “Song of the day” which is to be recited on the different holidays of the year. Hallel HaGadol (ch. 136) is designated as the special song of the last day of Pesach.
Before debating over the definition of Hallel HaGadol, the Talmud tells us in the name of Rabbi Tarfon that for the 4th cup of wine at the Seder, we recite all of Hallel (meaning Hallel Mitzrayim), and we also say Hallel HaGadol.
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi notes that there are 26 verses in Hallel HaGadol, corresponding to the 26 generations from Adam until the Torah was given, noting how “the world was sustained through God’s kindness for 26 generations” before the world changed with the Torah having been given to the Jewish people. The refrain ending each line in 136, “ki l’olam chasdo” – that His kindness endures forever, could also be understood to mean that His kindness is for the world (note to grammarians: I am aware that there is a difference between a “patach” and a “shva na” under the lamed!).
Perhaps this is why it is called the “Great” Hallel – because it talks so much about the greatness of God, Whose name has the numerical value (gematria) of 26 as well.
Both Hallels are part of our Haggadah. We say the full Hallel Mitzrayim – though broken up between “Maggid” and “Hallel” – at the Seder, and we also say Hallel HaGadol.
In its own way, one can argue that Hallel HaGadol (136) parallels Dayenu in the sense that a number of statements about God’s greatness are declared, concluding with a phrase that emphasizes God’s greatness, kindness to our people, and a reason to give thanks.
All told, both Hallels cover a range of topics and reasons to give thanks to God – mostly for the events of the past, but, in the case of the end of Hallel HaGadol, even until today. The conclusion of “God gives bread to all flesh” and “Give thanks to the God of the Heavens” are verses that indicate God’s role in our lives until this day.
Hopefully everyone has a place for the Seder and plans for the holiday. And hopefully through our recitations of these Hallels, which we should view as a privilege rather than as a burden tagged on to the end of the Seder, after the meal, we can come to an appreciation of the good we have in our lives. It is not always easy to see, between terror and anti-Semitism which continue to devastate our people around the world, and the struggles and difficulties many face on a day to day basis (in relationships, financially, etc.), that God is in our lives.
Hopefully, when we sit down at the Seder and thank all those who helped put it together, we can also give thanks and Hallel to God for sustaining us until this time, and having given us the opportunity to once again sing His praises because we appreciate the role He plays in our lives, every day. Even when things are bleak, there is good to be found. Both Hallels are meant to remind us of God’s role in the past redemptions, in our current sustenance, and hopefully in the not-too-distant future, in the final redemption.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Motzi Ra or Motzi Tov - Bringing Out the Best in Others
Parshat Metzora
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we encounter the parshas of Tazria and Metzora, our thoughts typically run to Lashon Hara (speech that brings people down), which is argued by the Talmud (Arakhin 15-16) to be the main impetus for the Biblical punishment of “tzara’at” afflicting a person back in the day (tzara’at’s seven causes will be discussed below).
The word “Metzora,” which describes the person carrying the disease of tzara’at is noted by the midrash and many commentaries as being a condensed form of the words “motzi ra” – to bring out evil. Some say the person became a metzora because of being "motzi ra" - bringing evil out of one's lips. Most will say that the idea of being “motzi ra” is meant to be the result of having tzara’at, that the person with the ailment gets the message as delivered through this God-sent spiritual disease, and makes a conscious decision to remove the evil-from-within which caused the individual to sin.
But there is also the possibility that the problem facing the Metzora, and one of the reasons why the disease comes is because the sin also brings out the bad in others. How does a victim of Lashon hora (slander and gossip) respond to people talking about him? Murder sometimes causes others to murder in vengeance. Swearing in vain promotes a culture in which people are not careful about their speech. For sins of immorality – if it only took one to tango, perhaps it wouldn’t bring out the evil in others. But it takes two to tango. Haughtiness or stinginess of the sinner causes others to feel belittled, to get angry, or to experience jealousy. Thievery may cause vigilantism, with people taking the law into their own hands.
And so, perhaps, we can all benefit from asking ourselves if we are doing our part to bring the best out of people, or are we, heaven forfend, bringing out the worst in others? All questions presented are being asked in no particular order. And yes, I’m talking to myself.
Parents: Do we encourage our children to make good decisions? Do we allow them to make bad decisions, so they can learn from their mistakes? Do we compliment them when they do well, so they don’t only hear criticism from us? Do we put them up much much more than we put them down? Do we make reasonable demands – religiously, academically, in the pursuit of hobbies? Do we express our disappointment with love and care, while explaining why sometimes bad choices, or irresponsibility may have fair and reasonable consequences? Are we overly-sarcastic (when it’s not a symptom of a sense-of-humor we share with our children)? Do we do our part to improve our own parenting skills – such as developing more patience, controlling our anger, learning the art of communication, and realizing that we teach more by example than anything else?
Teachers and educators: All the parenting questions. Plus. (Parents – we can all read these too!) Do we have patience for kids who learn differently, and at different paces? Do we recognize the differences that make each child unique? Do we know how recognize the beauty in each child? Do we know how to tap into a child’s strengths? Are we able to encourage creativity, and not stifle it?
Rabbis: Do we encourage positive speech and respectful dialogue in our shuls? Do we respect the fact that our members may have different political views, religious backgrounds, spiritual expectations and needs? Do we remember to be cautious of the rules of lashon hora when dealing with different personalities and the ways in which they sometimes conflict in shul-operations? Do we challenge those who don't normally serve as bal-tefillah or read the Torah to take a time-slot and take the lead of the davening? Do we encourage others to give a dvar torah in settings in which that would be acceptable (it doesn't always have to be the rabbi!) - such as at a shalom zachar, a seudah shlishit, Shavuos night?
Everyone not in these kinds of leadership roles: Are we good friends? Do we encourage good behaviors? Do we know when to set limits – to pull back and say, this conversation is not for me, these activities are not for me, I don’t agree with these decisions? Do we know when to say Yes and when to say No? Are we supportive when we need to be? For those with really close relationships – are we able express to our friends when we feel they’re doing things that are harmful to themselves or their children? Are we willing to listen (even if we disagree) when a friend raises points the friend is concerned about?
For all: Are we there for each other in the labyrinth of life?
May we all be blessed to be a Motzi Tov (one who brings out the good) in ourselves and in others, especially in those we love and care about the most
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we encounter the parshas of Tazria and Metzora, our thoughts typically run to Lashon Hara (speech that brings people down), which is argued by the Talmud (Arakhin 15-16) to be the main impetus for the Biblical punishment of “tzara’at” afflicting a person back in the day (tzara’at’s seven causes will be discussed below).
The word “Metzora,” which describes the person carrying the disease of tzara’at is noted by the midrash and many commentaries as being a condensed form of the words “motzi ra” – to bring out evil. Some say the person became a metzora because of being "motzi ra" - bringing evil out of one's lips. Most will say that the idea of being “motzi ra” is meant to be the result of having tzara’at, that the person with the ailment gets the message as delivered through this God-sent spiritual disease, and makes a conscious decision to remove the evil-from-within which caused the individual to sin.
But there is also the possibility that the problem facing the Metzora, and one of the reasons why the disease comes is because the sin also brings out the bad in others. How does a victim of Lashon hora (slander and gossip) respond to people talking about him? Murder sometimes causes others to murder in vengeance. Swearing in vain promotes a culture in which people are not careful about their speech. For sins of immorality – if it only took one to tango, perhaps it wouldn’t bring out the evil in others. But it takes two to tango. Haughtiness or stinginess of the sinner causes others to feel belittled, to get angry, or to experience jealousy. Thievery may cause vigilantism, with people taking the law into their own hands.
And so, perhaps, we can all benefit from asking ourselves if we are doing our part to bring the best out of people, or are we, heaven forfend, bringing out the worst in others? All questions presented are being asked in no particular order. And yes, I’m talking to myself.
Parents: Do we encourage our children to make good decisions? Do we allow them to make bad decisions, so they can learn from their mistakes? Do we compliment them when they do well, so they don’t only hear criticism from us? Do we put them up much much more than we put them down? Do we make reasonable demands – religiously, academically, in the pursuit of hobbies? Do we express our disappointment with love and care, while explaining why sometimes bad choices, or irresponsibility may have fair and reasonable consequences? Are we overly-sarcastic (when it’s not a symptom of a sense-of-humor we share with our children)? Do we do our part to improve our own parenting skills – such as developing more patience, controlling our anger, learning the art of communication, and realizing that we teach more by example than anything else?
Teachers and educators: All the parenting questions. Plus. (Parents – we can all read these too!) Do we have patience for kids who learn differently, and at different paces? Do we recognize the differences that make each child unique? Do we know how recognize the beauty in each child? Do we know how to tap into a child’s strengths? Are we able to encourage creativity, and not stifle it?
Rabbis: Do we encourage positive speech and respectful dialogue in our shuls? Do we respect the fact that our members may have different political views, religious backgrounds, spiritual expectations and needs? Do we remember to be cautious of the rules of lashon hora when dealing with different personalities and the ways in which they sometimes conflict in shul-operations? Do we challenge those who don't normally serve as bal-tefillah or read the Torah to take a time-slot and take the lead of the davening? Do we encourage others to give a dvar torah in settings in which that would be acceptable (it doesn't always have to be the rabbi!) - such as at a shalom zachar, a seudah shlishit, Shavuos night?
Everyone not in these kinds of leadership roles: Are we good friends? Do we encourage good behaviors? Do we know when to set limits – to pull back and say, this conversation is not for me, these activities are not for me, I don’t agree with these decisions? Do we know when to say Yes and when to say No? Are we supportive when we need to be? For those with really close relationships – are we able express to our friends when we feel they’re doing things that are harmful to themselves or their children? Are we willing to listen (even if we disagree) when a friend raises points the friend is concerned about?
For all: Are we there for each other in the labyrinth of life?
May we all be blessed to be a Motzi Tov (one who brings out the good) in ourselves and in others, especially in those we love and care about the most
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