Israel in Nepal: Understanding What "I Am God" Means

Parshat Acharei Mot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Vayikra 18 introduces the Torah’s list of forbidden relationships with the instruction to Moshe to tell the Israelites:

“I am God. Do not follow the ways of Egypt where you lived, and as to the deeds of the land of Canaan to where I am bringing you, do not do [as well]. Do not follow their customs. Follow My laws, and be careful to keep My decrees, for I am God. Keep My decrees and laws, since it is only by keeping them that a person can [truly] live. I am God.” 

 There are many interpretations as to what the “ways of Egypt” and the “ways of Canaan” were, and what moral lesson the Israelites were supposed to take from these instructions. The implication of what it means to “truly live” is perhaps a reference to how the Torah’s guidance is supposed to inform our existence and inject depth and meaning into our lives.

 Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch distinguishes between the references to Egypt and Canaan and the general “do not follow their customs,” as he defines the former as “patterns of social behavior” and the generalization of “their customs” to be instructive regarding “private conduct in the lives of individuals and families.”

 To cite one example in his lengthy exposition, he writes that “only a family life of moral purity can produce a people that will champion justice and righteousness; and only a people that practices loving kindness and justice can produce people who are morally pure.”

 There is no question that he was preaching to the choir. But I don’t believe the Jewish people who live by the Torah’s precepts can claim moral superiority to non-Jews who follow the Noahide laws. The same morality laws apply to all of humanity. People who follow the rules are to be admired; those who do not follow basic moral standards of society are not good role models. 

Some of the commentaries point out that the people who were living in the land merited to have Hevron settled for as long as it was (based on Bamidbar 13:22) because they were so respectful to Abraham and the forefathers in allowing their burial in the Land that was not-yet-theirs. Surely not only the people of Israel are capable of contributing positively to the world.

 There is no question that the moral standards of ancient Egypt and ancient Canaan were very low. The simple interpretation of the verse is to not learn from their corrupt ways. But what about their good ways? Was there no contribution to the world or society that the Jewish people could learn from, and apply to their experience?

 Tosafos (Avodah Zarah 11a) forbids two kinds of non-Jewish influence: 1. Customs and practices connected with non-Jewish, idolatrous, or immoral purposes and beliefs. 2. Non-Jewish customs and practices for which there is no known reasonable and permissible basis.

 Building, giving charity, providing aid, practicing medicine, living a life of loving kindness – if we copy the ways of non-Jews in any of these disciplines, we are blessed for it. And if we live out our creed to be a light unto the nations in these arenas, modeling how to be the best at each of these, how incredible is our lot. 

Watching the lead that Israel is taking in the wake of the devastating earthquake in Nepal, it is shameful that there might be Jews in the world who do not recognize the moral clarity that the State of Israel demonstrates - especially when citizens of the world are suffering and in need of the humanitarian help Israel is at the forefront of providing.

 We saw similar reactions in the wake of the tsunami of 2004, the earthquake in Haiti in 2010, and even near Syria and Gaza alongside military conflicts in the last year alone. Israel sets up field hospitals. At its own expense. And Jews around the world collect money and send humanitarian aid. This is the opposite of the ways of Ancient Egypt and Ancient Canaan, who at most cared only about their own people, and certainly did not celebrate diversity or other cultures.

 I saw a disturbing post on Facebook by a rabbi who is involved in outreach, who often says outlandish things when he makes claims of understanding cause and effect in this world, particularly as to why tragic events unfold. He has claimed to know the reasons for why people suffer horrible illness, why the tragic fire in Brooklyn took 7 lives, why the Holocaust happened, etc. claiming some kind of divine inspiration. He posted before and after photos of a now destroyed Temple in Nepal, saying “All the idols worshiping places in nepal are now destroyed. [sic]” A few hours later he removed it from his Facebook page. [I took a screenshot of it]

 This is not who we are. Maimonides (Laws of Idolatry 7:1) indicates that places of worship outside of Israel are not our business.

 And even in Israel, absent the arrival of the Messiah, places of worship are respected.

 Perhaps if we reread the verses in our parsha, we can understand why this rabbi is wrong, and why the example of the State of Israel is spot-on.

 “I am God. Do not follow the ways of Egypt where you lived,” who did not respect your right to live as Jews, and who did not honor your right to worship your God as you see fit. “And as to the deeds of the land of Canaan to where I am bringing you, do not do [as well].” After all, they do not respect your Divine-given rights to this Land, and will attack you despite your peace efforts.

 “Do not follow their customs.” They can’t see past the bridge of their nose in recognizing that it’s a big world filled with God’s children, and that whatever can be done to advance the brotherhood of humanity is good.

 “Follow My laws, and be careful to keep My decrees, for I am God. Keep My decrees and laws, since it is only by keeping them that a person can [truly] live. I am God.” True Divine Inspiration comes from living a moral existence that embraces that all of humanity are created in the image of God. Some people practice religion in ways that are foreign to us, and their religious practices are not to influence us in any way. 

However, if we can make a Kiddush Hashem, sanctifying God’s name through showing our care for God’s children because we follow the teachings of the One who declared “I am God,” then we are fulfilling our creed that exhorts us to “truly live” – to demonstrate what it means to live a life of meaning, of giving, and of embracing the real world.

Partners in Creation (and Infertility)

For those who struggle with infertility, the battle is one which is often waged in private, with very little support from family or friends, unless a choice is made to share the information. I don't think it is anyone's place to impose their advice or opinions (or to say such insensitive things like "So when are you guys going to have a baby?"), unless said advice or opinions are sought by those who struggle. While I certainly don't have answers beyond doing research, preparing the body with the proper nutrition and vitamins, and seeking out the best medical help possible, here is a religious approach that suggests there is more to what meets the eye than medical charts. 

Parshat Tazria

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Last week I quoted the Midrash Aggadah on “Yom HaShmini” who raised the possibility that one of the interpretations of Kohelet 11:2 which speaks of seven becoming eight, is that of Rabbi Yehuda bar Simone who said that "Seven" refers to the days of the Niddah period. If the laws of Niddah are followed (7), the Midrash suggests in the name of God, a child will be born who will be circumcised on the 8th day.

 Sounds like a pretty good guarantee.

 In another passage in the Midrash Aggadah on our parsha, we are reminded of how there are three partners in the creation of a human being: the father, the mother and God. This notion comes from the Talmud (Kiddushin 30b, Niddah 31a), and many homiletical teachings emerge from it.

 But perhaps the most profound thought, certainly one that crosses the mind of God-fearing parents when their children are born, is how clearly one can understand that God is in this world when one observes a newborn.

 Of course the initial passage above is a nice thought. But there are plenty of people who observe these laws meticulously and still struggle with infertility (as well as those who don't follow them, who have no problems). If only such a guarantee came with a warranty.

 Alas, as everyone knows, it’s not always so simple.

 In his Toldot Yitzchak, Rabbi Yitzchak Caro utilized a Talmudic teaching to explain how an expectant parent must pray for the fertilization to take root in the first three days, from day 3 to day 40 pray for a male child, from day 40 to the end of the first trimester pray that it shouldn’t be a miscarriage, from 3 months to 6 months pray that it should not be a stillborn, from 6 months pray that it should be born in peace.

 If so, he concludes, it seems that the health of the child and success of the pregnancy is dependent on prayer much more than on nature.

 With regard to the praying for a “male” child – well, this passage is on the segment that says “When a woman conceives and gives birth to a male.” (For those who like “The Godfather,” think of the blessing Luca Brasi gave Don Corleone at the Godfather’s daughter’s wedding.) [Of course there are people who "want" to have a boy. There are also people who "want" to have a girl. Most people are happy to have a child and gender does not matter.]

 Otherwise, the passage speaks for itself about prayer’s role in all of this.

 When I was in his class, Rabbi Moshe Tendler would often tell us that there are so many possible genetic mutations that could take place in the development of a fetus, it is a miracle that anyone is born without some kind of problem. Baruch Hashem.

In our world of science and rationalism, we tend to aim to find explanations for why things go right, and even moreso for when things go wrong.

 But maybe, just maybe, we don’t have all the answers because some causes and cases go beyond the realm of the natural world. An unhealthy woman gives birth to a completely healthy and normal baby. A healthy woman can’t carry a baby to term. What’s wrong with this picture?

 I don’t have the answers. But the Toldot Yitzchak did offer a suggestion, which I believe is only highlighted due to Rabbi Tendler’s insight about genetics. There is a need for prayer that goes far beyond our understanding, and enters the realm of the cosmos in terms of where it sits, lies and waits, and then returns to influence the world.

 Are following the laws of Niddah and committing to prayer guarantees that a child will be born, and in good health? Of course not. But as the old Jewish joke goes: a performer in a live show has a heart attack and dies on stage. As the stage manager comes out to give mouth-to-mouth, a woman in the audience yells out “Give him an enema! Give him an enema!” She is told, “This man is dead. An enema won’t help.” “Well, it wouldn’t hurt!”

While the punchline of the joke, "It can't hurt" is more than likely true with respect to prayer and Niddah observance, the other side of it, "That maybe it can really help" is certainly not worth dropping at the wayside.

 Let those who are struggling to have that child find fulfillment in a more dedicated commitment to the laws of Niddah and to prayer. Especially praying for someone else who has similar needs . Who knows? Maybe sooner than later, prayers will be answered.

 Amen. May it only be so for all of us.

When Seven Turns Into Eight

For more on the "Eighth Day" - see here

Parshat Shmini

by Rabbi Avi Billet


This week and next week, the Torah portion begins with the phrase “Yom HaShmini” referring to an eighth day. In our parsha, the reference is to the eighth day of the “Miluim” – the time when the Tabernacle was dedicated in the wilderness.

Next week we will be reading of the process a woman goes through after giving birth, and how on the eighth day after a boy is born, he is to be circumcised. 

Is there a connection between these “eighth day”s?

The Midrash Aggadah makes the connection, quoting a verse in Kohelet (11:2), “Give a portion to seven and even to eight, for you do not know what evil will be on the earth” as a springboard to saying there are a number of things that are seven, which lead to number eight.

Moshe had a 7-day conversation with God at the burning bush before he was ready for his eighth day – to move on to be the deliverer from bondage. Rabbi Elazar (or Eliezer) said 7 refers to the days of a week, and 8 refers to Bris Milah. Rain fell in the times of Elijah the Prophet (after several years of drought), in the merit of these two mitzvot: Shabbos and Bris Milah.

Rabbi Yehoshua said 7 refers to the (Biblical) days of Pesach, while 8 refers to the eight days of Sukkot (which include Shmini Atzeret).

Rabbi Simone said 7 refers to the 7th day of the korbanot (offerings) of the N’siim (princes) in Bamidbar 7, and 8 refers to the 8th day of the same korbanot – the offerings brought by the princes of Ephraim and Menashe.

Rabbi Yehuda said 7 refers to niddah (proper observance of the laws of family purity), which can lead to the birth of a boy who is circumcised on his eighth day of life. 

Rabbi Azarya (also attributed to Rabbi Eliezer) said the verse refers to the 7 days of Miluim (dedication of the Tabernacle), and 8 refers to the Eighth day of our parsha.

 The Midrash Rabba adds to this list:

Rabbi Azarya said Moshe supervised over the Bris Milah of the 7th generation (Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Levi, Kehat, Amram, Moshe), while Yehoshua supervised the Bris Milah of the 8th generation as they entered the land of Canaan.

 Rabbi Levi said there are seven days of sukkot, and eight is Shmini Atzeret.

Rabbenu Bachaye notes the Midrash Mishlei which pointed to a number of Mitzvot in the Torah themed around the number 7: Shabbos, Shmittah (7 years), and Yovel (7 cycles of Shmittah). There are 7 days of Pesach, 7 days of Sukkos. The 4 Species actually have 7 items (1 lulav, 1 esrog, 2 aravos, 3 hadasim), there are 7 days of mourning, and 7 days of rejoicing (after a wedding) – all of this alludes to the 7 days of Creation. The reason Aharon was not consecrated as the High Priest during the 7 days of Miluim is because his role is designated to serve the One and Only God. The eighth day, which is seven plus One, serves as a “one up” on the seven, as it focuses on looking back at the 7 through the prism of serving the One.

The Mishkan highlights the number 8: the number of the High Priest’s garments, the number of spices in the anointing oil (4) and k’tores (4) - combined, the number of poles (2 each for ark, table, small and large mizbeachs), an animal can’t be brought as an offering until it is eight days old, the number of instruments/styles of music the Levites used when they sang songs (based on Tehillim 90, 53, 9, 5, 45, 8, 6).

Kli Yakar illustrates how all Moshe’s glorification of God came under the rubric of the word “Az” (alef zayin) (See Shmot 5:23, 15:1). The alef (1) rides on the zayin (7), to indicate God’s kingship over the seven planets (interestingly, he mentions seven planets in the 1600s, when planet #7 – Uranus was discovered in 1781 by Sir William Herschel, and Neptune wasn’t discovered until 1846!), and over the world created in 7 days. Eight, therefore, is a reference to Godlike qualities that go beyond the base of creation and of this world. This explains why an animal is not fit to be a sacrificial offering until it is at least eight days old.

The key to understanding the significance of 7 and 8, however, rests in the verse in Kohelet. In his explanation of the teaching that 7 refers to the days of the week and 8 refers to Bris Milah, the Torah Temimah suggests that our goal during the 7 days is to be preparing for what’s coming. Every day we prepare for Shabbos. After the birth of a boy, we are preparing for his bris celebration.

Shabbos and Milah share a commonality – the merits of both saved the Jewish people in the time of Elijah the Prophet. And the need for preparation in general serves as a reminder that a person should never put off preparing for the future when the opportunity to prepare presents itself. Who knows? Maybe such a chance to prepare will never be available again. This is the meaning of the second half of the verse in Kohelet. We have no crystal ball. We do not know what the future will bring.

Indeed, all of the holidays (including Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, which are included in the Kohelet verse in the word “v’gam” – and also), are considered to be days of judgment. Perhaps the verse is teaching us, the Torah Temimah concludes, that those who observe the laws of the holidays, and of Shabbos and Bris Milah, are protected from evil, and certainly from any judgment for gehinnom.

In the end, the Eighth Day of our parsha serves as a model for what the best kind of connection to God is, and how to serve Him. We are to do our best to prepare for the eighth day, and we are to highlight the eighth day as the day that demonstrates His power on earth, and what it means to tap into the holiness that goes above and beyond the base of the seven days of Creation.

Inviting the Uninvited

Pesach

by Rabbi Avi Billet


I remember the first time I taught a class about Passover to a group of Jewish adults of very mixed Jewish backgrounds, and I mentioned that the Korban Pesach ritual (Paschal Lamb offering) that was so essential to the holiday of Pesach in Temple times could only be eaten by Jews who believe in God, and that the males of said populace had to b circumcised.

 In fact, so closely is the Korban Pesach related to Bris Milah (circumcision) that they are the only two mitzvot in the Torah that, when not fulfilled, carry with them the punishment of “karet” (Biblically prescribed excision from the Jewish people – a punishment carried out by God).

 I was unprepared for the reaction. “You mean a non-Jew cannot participate in the Seder?”

 One who googles the phrase “how to run a Passover Seder” must put much care into what one clicks, because a number of the top search hits will point to Christian websites dedicated to teaching people of their faith how to run an authentic Seder. So it’s not just Jews who have non-Jewish friends who need to be concerned, but non-Jews themselves! And with even the President of the United States hosting Seders over the past few years, it clearly is an important concern and consideration.

 I assured the questioner that as we don’t have a Temple now and no Korban Pesach, we don’t adhere to such a restriction, because the meat that we eat, while delicious, is not the required lamb that has limitations on who may eat it. And while I don’t know what goes on at too many Seders other than those that I’ve experienced, I hope that all Seders do an adequate job of focusing on the concept of the Israelites’ switch from slavery to freedom, the role God played in bringing that goal about, and a hope that the freedom we speak of metaphorically can be experienced for the Jewish people again when anti-Semitism is eliminated from the world. This is a message that needs to be spread widely and clearly.

 One of the themes of the Seder is the number four. Four questions, four sons, fours cups of wine. I once heard Rabbi Kenneth Hain of Congregation Beth Sholom in Lawrence ask the question, “Why three matzahs? Shouldn’t we have four matzahs?”

 There is a tradition that each matzah represents a different kind of Jew – the Kohen, the Levite, and the Israelite. Rabbi Hain suggested the 4th matzah, the one that doesn’t make it to the table, represents the Jew that is so far removed from Judaism, this Jew doesn’t even make it to the Seder.

 It should come as no surprise that Bris Milah and the Passover Seder are the two most widely practiced Jewish rites. I highly doubt it is because of the karet-connection I mentioned earlier. But it is telling that they share this and so many other connections: the significance of blood, the concept of a covenant, a tribute to Elijah the Prophet, how you can’t do one without the other, etc. These connections give a strong indication that most Jews do make it to a Seder of some kind, and that not too many Jews who affiliate are missing. 

But what do we do about the missing Jew – the 4th matzah?

 First of all, I hope that all those who are bringing non-Jewish guests to their Seders have plenty of seats filled by Jews who might not otherwise attend one. As for those of us who are not inviting non-Jews to our Seder, are we doing our part to fulfill the words of “Ha Lachma Anya” – “let all those who seek come and eat, and all those who need come and do Pesach”? We live in a world when it is increasingly harder to invite people we do not know. We can’t simply invite strangers off the street without an introduction, or without having someone vouch for them. It is a terrible reality of the times in which we live.

 But if there are people we know, people in our offices, or people we have connections with, who might not have a Seder to attend, perhaps we can reach out and invite them for the first Seder, and give them a little taste of how we celebrate and commemorate our collective journey from slavery to freedom.

 Who knows? Perhaps this gesture will be the first positive one the invited may have had in a while. And maybe, next year, we need not be concerned that this person is the 4th matzah, the Jew who doesn’t even make it to the Seder.

To Heal a Broken Heart

Parshat Tzav

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 The tragic story of a fire in Brooklyn coming on the ten year anniversary of a similar story in Teaneck has left the greater Jewish community reeling. We mourn with these families, and wish for a recovery for those still in medical care.

 Having seen and experienced devastating loss, the only thing I know to be experientially true is that love and the passage of time are the most important ingredients to being able to continue with life and to find happiness once again – if that becomes a goal in life. Having faith in God is also helpful, because it can help a person find a sense of purpose in living beyond tragedy.

 Towards the beginning of its commentary on our parsha, the Midrash Rabba aims to explain how those who suffer through devastating ordeals can get closer to God, utilizing the experience of King David, who said in Tehillim (Psalms 51:19): “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; O God, You will not despise a broken and crushed heart.”

 How true this statement is, and how true do we hope for it to always be.

 Of course, the Midrash does not raise this sentence in a vacuum. The parsha does focus heavily on sacrifices. And the Midrash paints King David’s statement as one of hope for how he could get closer to God despite having suffered terrible calamities.

 One utilization of the verse asserts King David’s Teshuva (repentance) process, in the aftermath of the Batsheva incident of Samuel II 12 as, “God, I have overcome my evil inclination, and I have repented before You. If You accept my repentance, I know that my son Shlomo will build the Beit Hamikdash, and build the Mizbeach, and burn the sacrifices on it.” This is how “a broken spirit” can turn into the fulfillment of “the sacrifices of God,” when the dream of what future generations can hopefully accomplish can be articulated and hopefully actualized.

 Another view utilizes the same verse as the answer to a question – not about King David and his son Shlomo, but about any person looking to find God: How do we know that a person who repents is given the credit for having gone up to Jerusalem, having built the Temple, having built the Mizbeach, and for sacrificing all of the offerings? Because this is how “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit.” The broken heart that accompanies repentance can bring about the highest level of serving God.

 But closeness to God is not only achieved through repentance, as is demonstrated through the concluding teaching of the Midrash, in the name of Rabbi Alexandri. If a human being is served with broken vessels, it is assumed to be an insult. But God is the opposite – He knows that the most powerful and the most poignant service comes from the brokenhearted. “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted, and He saves those of crushed spirit.” (Tehillim 34:19) God is the One “Who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Tehillim 147:3). The prophet Isaiah (57:15) quotes God Himself, who said, “With the lofty and the holy ones I dwell, and with the crushed and humble in spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the crushed…”

 What, therefore, is the meaning of “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit?” That through a broken heart one has the ability to come closest to God.

 The broken heart can be demonstrated in one of two ways. Either a person sins and breaks one’s heart through repentance. Or tragedy breaks one’s heart, and the person turns to God through serving him.

 When a nation can collectively have a broken heart, this Midrash is suggesting that we are experiencing the closest chance we have to seek out God’s presence, and to feel His comforting hand. When King David wrote Tehillim 51 in the aftermath of the Batsheva tale, he had two experiences which weighed heavily on his conscience.

 The first was that his conduct in that story was sinful and he needed to return to God. His deed was public, his exhortation from the prophet was spelled out to him, and he was also made aware through prophesy of what was expected of him.

 The second was that he had suffered the ultimate loss of several of his children – the first child born from his union with Batsheva (Shlomo was the 2nd child of that union), the deaths of his sons Avshalom and Amnon in his lifetime, as well as his daughter Tamar’s defilement at the hands of her half-brother Amnon. (Adoniyahu, another son, was killed shortly after King David’s death.)

 In our local story, there is no sin. There is no prophet. And there are no answers. There is only tragedy, suffering, and loss, for a family and for a community.

 There is no healing from losses of this kind. There is always an emptiness in the lives of surviving family members, as well as in the greater community.

 Hopefully, with the outpouring of love and with time, everyone will be able to find some kind of comfort from the ultimate Comforter because He will see that what brings us closest to Him is the broken heart.

The Sin of Doing One Mitzvah

Parshat VAYIKRa

by Rabbi Avi Billet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Retaking the Gift of Shabbat

Parshat VAYAKHEL

by Rabbi Avi Billet

When we read the parshas surrounding the building of the Mishkan, we are reminded of the fealty we, the Jewish people, are to have to Shabbat. The laws of Shabbat are derived from the proximity of the actual construction of the vessels and structures of the Mishkan to a reminder about Shabbat – both of which appear in Shmot chapter 35. Shabbat was also mentioned in last week’s Torah portion at the conclusion of the initial instructions for the Mishkan, in the “V’shamru” passage which is most famous because it is part of our liturgy as well (31:13-17)

 It’s not only that Shabbat is a day the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are meant to rest to imitate God who “rested” on the seventh day after Creating. Shabbat is considered in the Talmud to be a gift that God gave to the Jewish people (Talmud Shabbat 10b). One who keeps or observes the Shabbat is considered to be attesting to God’s role in the creation of the world.

 Hillel Halkin, a secular Jewish writer who lives in Israel, wrote an article several years ago entitled, “You don't have to be Orthodox to cherish the Sabbath,” which can be easily found through a Google search. The title almost says it all, though Halkin does a good job of explaining why he, as a secular Jew, cherishes the Shabbat and wishes (at least when he wrote the article) that other Jews could appreciate Shabbat more.

 Former Senator Joseph Lieberman also wrote a book to this effect, offering Shabbat as a needed respite for all of humanity.

 The Chofetz Chaim, whose rare image was recently uncovered in an old film reel from the 1920s, would describe the Talmudic sentiment of the gift given to the Jewish people like a groom giving his bride a present. If the bride returns the gift, it is a good indication that she does not want the groom and the match is as good as over.

 His message was the same about Shabbat. If the Jewish people do not keep the Shabbat properly, they are essentially returning the gift to God, indicating they have no interest in the bond that unites the Jews to God.

 It is a sad state of affairs for the Jewish people when the attitude to Shabbat outside of the religious Jewish community (however people define “religious”) is the way it is today. Halkin, for example, at least respects the Shabbat, even if he does not observe.

 Some statistics from national polls of the last few years bear out the dire circumstances we face in terms of appreciation of this gift. A December 2012 Gallup poll said 41% of Jews say religion is important to them, while 65% said they attend religious services seldom or never. 22% of Jews have no religion at all. According to the Pew poll of 2013, 28% of Jews don’t believe in God, while 73% think being Jewish means remembering the Holocaust. 

Those of us who love the Torah and cherish the Shabbat have a very big job ahead of us. So many Jews identify as Jewish for cultural reasons and on account of the ancestral heritage, without knowledge of a Torah, mitzvot, or any of the wisdom contained therein. Show an ignorant-of-Judaism Jew a Jewish library or Beit Midrash, and the eyes open up and the jaw drops at how much specifically Jewish knowledge and scholarship is out there. Sure they know that many Jews of the past were smart people. But the breadth of knowledge of rabbinic sages is what they hear about, if at all, from PJ library story books, which do not exactly come from a wellspring of Jewish tradition that goes back centuries or millennia. We have so much to offer, but despite all the efforts that are being made by those who reach out to lost or searching Jews, there is still a very long way to go in bringing Shabbat to the masses in a palatable way.

 We need the connection with God more than ever. We have to earn back His trust through our retaking His gift of Shabbat.