This week’s Torah portion contains within it the story of the rape of Ya’akov’s daughter Dina, and the revenge of her brothers on the perpetrators of that deed. “Leah’s daughter Dina, whom she had borne to Ya’akov, went out to visit some of the local girls. She was seen by Shechem, son of the chief of the region, Chamor the Hivite. He seduced her, raped her, and afflicted her. He became attached to Dina, and fell in love with her...” (Bereishis 34; 1-3). Though his crime was unspeakably horrendous, it does not seem from the text that Shechem was a sociopath, or serial rapist. Were that the case he would not have come to Dina’s father to ask for her hand in marriage, and certainly would not have agreed to circumcision, which was the demand made of him and his village by Shimon and Levi, Dina’s brothers. Through a closer examination of this incident we can gain an insight into Shechem and behaviour (though it is without justification).
Not only was Shechem the name of the son of the Chief of the town, it was also the name of the town itself. It seems that Chamor named the town in honour of his son, to show the world his love for his son. The word Shechem actually means ‘treasure’ or ‘special portion’ (see ibid. 49; 22), so Chamor’s name for his son denotes the special place he had in his father’s heart.
The name Chamor is related to the word Chomer, meaning ‘substance’ or ‘material’. We have a tradition that a person’s name gives us an insight into who they really are, so the Torah seems to be telling us that Chamor was someone who was very connected to the physical world. He showed his affection to his son through materialism, by naming the town after him, and presumably by giving him any worldly possession that he wanted.
We see from Shechem’s request of his father, “Get me this young girl [Dina] as a wife” (ibid. 34; 4) that he was used to asking for and receiving anything he wanted. Similarly, when negotiating with Ya’akov and his sons, Shechem shows that he is used to getting anything that he wants: “I will give you whatever you ask. Set the bridal payments and gifts as high as you like - I will give you whatever you demand of me. Just let me have the girl as my wife.” (verse 12). His assumption is that everything has its price, and his father can afford to purchase anything for him.
Since Shechem considered that his father would give him everything that he wanted, perhaps he assumed that it was already his for the taking. If he saw a woman that took his fancy, he would first take her and rape her, confident that since he desired her his father would ensure that he could marry her. In his mind the whole world was his to do with as he wished, since he was the son of the Chief.
Shechem and Chamor were living in a totally money oriented society. Ya’akov realised this from his first encounter with the place. The Torah tells us that Ya’akov’s first action upon arriving in Shechem was to purchase the land for his tents. We are even told the purchase price of that real-estate, 100 kesitas (33; 19). The focus on money in Shechem is in sharp distinction to the place where Ya’akov had just left. After his encounter with Esav, Ya’akov went to a place named Succot, where he built a house for himself and temporary shelters (succot) for his livestock. By naming the place Succot he demonstrated that he was only going to be there temporarily, and that he was not interested in the permanence of lavish housing or accumulating wealth. When he left that place, he arrived in Shechem Shalem, ‘complete’. Rashi quotes the Midrash which explains that he was complete in his finances and complete in his health. In other words he lacked nothing, and therefore was not interested in money, possessions or acquisitions. He had freed himself from the rat race of chasing after material well being, and was thus free to complete himself spiritually. This is what he had intimated to his brother as explanation for the gifts that he had sent to Esav, “I have all [I need]” (verse 11).
Thus Ya’akov elevated himself above concerns with materialism and possessions. He was unable to understand the world-view of Shechem and Chamor, who treated not only objects, but even people as belonging to them, and having primarily a financial worth. Though Chamor did mention love in his negotiations with Ya’akov for his daughter, his main concern was that this arrangement would bring financial gain to both parties, “The land will be open before you. Settle down, do business here, and the land will become your property.” Ya’akov does not even speak in the negotiations that follow, since he cannot even understand the concept of negotiating for a person as if they were only chattel.
Shimon and Levi did negotiate with Shechem and Chamor, but instead of asking for money they demanded that they must circumcise themselves in order that Shechem be able to marry Dina. Though this may have been only a ploy to weaken the defences of the town so that they could attack, we could also perhaps understand their terms and conditions as trying to explain that their sister was not a physical object for sale. The Rambam explains (Moreh Nevuchim section 3) that through circumcision a Jewish male shows that he does not view sexual relations solely in terms of physical pleasure, but as a spiritual means to fulfil G-d’s will. It seems that Ya’akov’s sons wanted to teach Shechem that women are not merely objects, and that marriage is primarily a spiritual commitment.
Showing posts with label d'var. Show all posts
Showing posts with label d'var. Show all posts
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Parshat Vayishlach 2
This week’s Torah portion contains within it the story of the rape of Ya’akov’s daughter Dina, and the revenge of her brothers on the perpetrators of that deed. “Leah’s daughter Dina, whom she had borne to Ya’akov, went out to visit some of the local girls. She was seen by Shechem, son of the chief of the region, Chamor the Hivite. He seduced her, raped her, and afflicted her. He became attached to Dina, and fell in love with her...” (Bereishis 34; 1-3). Though his crime was unspeakably horrendous, it does not seem from the text that Shechem was a sociopath, or serial rapist. Were that the case he would not have come to Dina’s father to ask for her hand in marriage, and certainly would not have agreed to circumcision, which was the demand made of him and his village by Shimon and Levi, Dina’s brothers. Through a closer examination of this incident we can gain an insight into Shechem and behaviour (though it is without justification).
Not only was Shechem the name of the son of the Chief of the town, it was also the name of the town itself. It seems that Chamor named the town in honour of his son, to show the world his love for his son. The word Shechem actually means ‘treasure’ or ‘special portion’ (see ibid. 49; 22), so Chamor’s name for his son denotes the special place he had in his father’s heart.
The name Chamor is related to the word Chomer, meaning ‘substance’ or ‘material’. We have a tradition that a person’s name gives us an insight into who they really are, so the Torah seems to be telling us that Chamor was someone who was very connected to the physical world. He showed his affection to his son through materialism, by naming the town after him, and presumably by giving him any worldly possession that he wanted.
We see from Shechem’s request of his father, “Get me this young girl [Dina] as a wife” (ibid. 34; 4) that he was used to asking for and receiving anything he wanted. Similarly, when negotiating with Ya’akov and his sons, Shechem shows that he is used to getting anything that he wants: “I will give you whatever you ask. Set the bridal payments and gifts as high as you like - I will give you whatever you demand of me. Just let me have the girl as my wife.” (verse 12). His assumption is that everything has its price, and his father can afford to purchase anything for him.
Since Shechem considered that his father would give him everything that he wanted, perhaps he assumed that it was already his for the taking. If he saw a woman that took his fancy, he would first take her and rape her, confident that since he desired her his father would ensure that he could marry her. In his mind the whole world was his to do with as he wished, since he was the son of the Chief.
Shechem and Chamor were living in a totally money oriented society. Ya’akov realised this from his first encounter with the place. The Torah tells us that Ya’akov’s first action upon arriving in Shechem was to purchase the land for his tents. We are even told the purchase price of that real-estate, 100 kesitas (33; 19). The focus on money in Shechem is in sharp distinction to the place where Ya’akov had just left. After his encounter with Esav, Ya’akov went to a place named Succot, where he built a house for himself and temporary shelters (succot) for his livestock. By naming the place Succot he demonstrated that he was only going to be there temporarily, and that he was not interested in the permanence of lavish housing or accumulating wealth. When he left that place, he arrived in Shechem Shalem, ‘complete’. Rashi quotes the Midrash which explains that he was complete in his finances and complete in his health. In other words he lacked nothing, and therefore was not interested in money, possessions or acquisitions. He had freed himself from the rat race of chasing after material well being, and was thus free to complete himself spiritually. This is what he had intimated to his brother as explanation for the gifts that he had sent to Esav, “I have all [I need]” (verse 11).
Thus Ya’akov elevated himself above concerns with materialism and possessions. He was unable to understand the world-view of Shechem and Chamor, who treated not only objects, but even people as belonging to them, and having primarily a financial worth. Though Chamor did mention love in his negotiations with Ya’akov for his daughter, his main concern was that this arrangement would bring financial gain to both parties, “The land will be open before you. Settle down, do business here, and the land will become your property.” Ya’akov does not even speak in the negotiations that follow, since he cannot even understand the concept of negotiating for a person as if they were only chattel.
Shimon and Levi did negotiate with Shechem and Chamor, but instead of asking for money they demanded that they must circumcise themselves in order that Shechem be able to marry Dina. Though this may have been only a ploy to weaken the defences of the town so that they could attack, we could also perhaps understand their terms and conditions as trying to explain that their sister was not a physical object for sale. The Rambam explains (Moreh Nevuchim section 3) that through circumcision a Jewish male shows that he does not view sexual relations solely in terms of physical pleasure, but as a spiritual means to fulfil G-d’s will. It seems that Ya’akov’s sons wanted to teach Shechem that women are not merely objects, and that marriage is primarily a spiritual commitment.
Not only was Shechem the name of the son of the Chief of the town, it was also the name of the town itself. It seems that Chamor named the town in honour of his son, to show the world his love for his son. The word Shechem actually means ‘treasure’ or ‘special portion’ (see ibid. 49; 22), so Chamor’s name for his son denotes the special place he had in his father’s heart.
The name Chamor is related to the word Chomer, meaning ‘substance’ or ‘material’. We have a tradition that a person’s name gives us an insight into who they really are, so the Torah seems to be telling us that Chamor was someone who was very connected to the physical world. He showed his affection to his son through materialism, by naming the town after him, and presumably by giving him any worldly possession that he wanted.
We see from Shechem’s request of his father, “Get me this young girl [Dina] as a wife” (ibid. 34; 4) that he was used to asking for and receiving anything he wanted. Similarly, when negotiating with Ya’akov and his sons, Shechem shows that he is used to getting anything that he wants: “I will give you whatever you ask. Set the bridal payments and gifts as high as you like - I will give you whatever you demand of me. Just let me have the girl as my wife.” (verse 12). His assumption is that everything has its price, and his father can afford to purchase anything for him.
Since Shechem considered that his father would give him everything that he wanted, perhaps he assumed that it was already his for the taking. If he saw a woman that took his fancy, he would first take her and rape her, confident that since he desired her his father would ensure that he could marry her. In his mind the whole world was his to do with as he wished, since he was the son of the Chief.
Shechem and Chamor were living in a totally money oriented society. Ya’akov realised this from his first encounter with the place. The Torah tells us that Ya’akov’s first action upon arriving in Shechem was to purchase the land for his tents. We are even told the purchase price of that real-estate, 100 kesitas (33; 19). The focus on money in Shechem is in sharp distinction to the place where Ya’akov had just left. After his encounter with Esav, Ya’akov went to a place named Succot, where he built a house for himself and temporary shelters (succot) for his livestock. By naming the place Succot he demonstrated that he was only going to be there temporarily, and that he was not interested in the permanence of lavish housing or accumulating wealth. When he left that place, he arrived in Shechem Shalem, ‘complete’. Rashi quotes the Midrash which explains that he was complete in his finances and complete in his health. In other words he lacked nothing, and therefore was not interested in money, possessions or acquisitions. He had freed himself from the rat race of chasing after material well being, and was thus free to complete himself spiritually. This is what he had intimated to his brother as explanation for the gifts that he had sent to Esav, “I have all [I need]” (verse 11).
Thus Ya’akov elevated himself above concerns with materialism and possessions. He was unable to understand the world-view of Shechem and Chamor, who treated not only objects, but even people as belonging to them, and having primarily a financial worth. Though Chamor did mention love in his negotiations with Ya’akov for his daughter, his main concern was that this arrangement would bring financial gain to both parties, “The land will be open before you. Settle down, do business here, and the land will become your property.” Ya’akov does not even speak in the negotiations that follow, since he cannot even understand the concept of negotiating for a person as if they were only chattel.
Shimon and Levi did negotiate with Shechem and Chamor, but instead of asking for money they demanded that they must circumcise themselves in order that Shechem be able to marry Dina. Though this may have been only a ploy to weaken the defences of the town so that they could attack, we could also perhaps understand their terms and conditions as trying to explain that their sister was not a physical object for sale. The Rambam explains (Moreh Nevuchim section 3) that through circumcision a Jewish male shows that he does not view sexual relations solely in terms of physical pleasure, but as a spiritual means to fulfil G-d’s will. It seems that Ya’akov’s sons wanted to teach Shechem that women are not merely objects, and that marriage is primarily a spiritual commitment.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Parshat Vayishlach 1
“It is not good for man to be alone” (Bereishis 2; 18). With this introduction G-d prepares Adam for the creation of his wife, Eve. The purpose of creation is to imitate G-d, as the Torah tells us that mankind were made in the image of G-d. Just as G-d has no needs, and therefore only gives, so too a person should strive to become a ‘giver’ and not a ‘taker’. For Adam to remain alone would have deprived him of the opportunity to give to another, who has different requirements to him. This is why G-d created men and women with distinct emotional, physical and spiritual needs.
However, ‘aloneness’ is only a negative thing when it deprives a person of the opportunity to give to others. But to be ‘alone’ in the sense of self-sufficient, and not needing to receive from others is also a form of imitating G-d. Yishaya (2; 11) tells us that G-d is ‘alone’, “The L-rd ‘alone’ shall be exalted”. This is the meaning of the verse “One who hates gifts will live.” (Mishlei 15; 27). The goal of self-sufficiency is best described by Ben Zoma in the Mishna (Pireki Avos 4; 1) “ Who is rich? Someone who is happy with their portion.” We see from here that spiritual perfection does not depend on others, but on utilising the capabilities and tools that a person has themselves.
This embodies the difference between Ya’akov and Esav. When they meet and Ya’akov offers his brother gifts (Bereishis 33) Esav responds “I have much”. Ya’akov on the other hand, says, “I have everything.” Someone who has a lot always wants more, but someone who feels that they have everything is ‘happy with their portion’.
“And Ya’akov remained alone” (ibid. 32; 25). Normally we think that the guardian angel of Esav was able to attack and wrestle with Ya’akov because he remained alone, without perfection. However, Rabbi Yerucham Levovitz explains that it was precisely because he had reached the level of spiritual independence and self-sufficiency that is referred to by the Torah as ‘alone’, that he was able to battle and defeat the angel. Ya’akov had spent 20 years with Lavan perfecting himself to be able to return and face his brother Esav. He was only able to survive his encounter with his brother because he had attained such a level of independence that he was able to send a message to Esav saying “With Lavan I remained a stranger (garti), and remained there until now” (ibid. 32; 5). Rashi points out that the word garti has the numerical value of 613, the number of commandments. Despite, or perhaps because of, dwelling with Lavan, Ya’akov was able to remain firm to all the laws and commandments of the Torah.
This quality of ‘aloneness’ was part of Bilam’s blessing of the entire Jewish nation, “This is a nation that dwells alone, and is not considered with the other nations” (Bamidbar 23; 9). Though popular culture changes the value system every few years, the strength of the Jewish nation is that we are not swept away by every passing phase, but are able to remain true to our Torah values regardless of how we are viewed by the rest of the world. We too are able to wrestle with the angels of Esav, and defeat them, because we define ourselves independently of the culture and society in which we live.
However, ‘aloneness’ is only a negative thing when it deprives a person of the opportunity to give to others. But to be ‘alone’ in the sense of self-sufficient, and not needing to receive from others is also a form of imitating G-d. Yishaya (2; 11) tells us that G-d is ‘alone’, “The L-rd ‘alone’ shall be exalted”. This is the meaning of the verse “One who hates gifts will live.” (Mishlei 15; 27). The goal of self-sufficiency is best described by Ben Zoma in the Mishna (Pireki Avos 4; 1) “ Who is rich? Someone who is happy with their portion.” We see from here that spiritual perfection does not depend on others, but on utilising the capabilities and tools that a person has themselves.
This embodies the difference between Ya’akov and Esav. When they meet and Ya’akov offers his brother gifts (Bereishis 33) Esav responds “I have much”. Ya’akov on the other hand, says, “I have everything.” Someone who has a lot always wants more, but someone who feels that they have everything is ‘happy with their portion’.
“And Ya’akov remained alone” (ibid. 32; 25). Normally we think that the guardian angel of Esav was able to attack and wrestle with Ya’akov because he remained alone, without perfection. However, Rabbi Yerucham Levovitz explains that it was precisely because he had reached the level of spiritual independence and self-sufficiency that is referred to by the Torah as ‘alone’, that he was able to battle and defeat the angel. Ya’akov had spent 20 years with Lavan perfecting himself to be able to return and face his brother Esav. He was only able to survive his encounter with his brother because he had attained such a level of independence that he was able to send a message to Esav saying “With Lavan I remained a stranger (garti), and remained there until now” (ibid. 32; 5). Rashi points out that the word garti has the numerical value of 613, the number of commandments. Despite, or perhaps because of, dwelling with Lavan, Ya’akov was able to remain firm to all the laws and commandments of the Torah.
This quality of ‘aloneness’ was part of Bilam’s blessing of the entire Jewish nation, “This is a nation that dwells alone, and is not considered with the other nations” (Bamidbar 23; 9). Though popular culture changes the value system every few years, the strength of the Jewish nation is that we are not swept away by every passing phase, but are able to remain true to our Torah values regardless of how we are viewed by the rest of the world. We too are able to wrestle with the angels of Esav, and defeat them, because we define ourselves independently of the culture and society in which we live.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Parshat Toledot 3
In almost all of the events of his life, Yitzchak remains a passive actor, or else he is not in control of the situation. His birth and his name, were prophesied a year earlier; in his ‘binding’ on Mount Moriah, he lay passively as his father was about to sacrifice him. When it was time for him to get married his father arranged for his servant to find the right wife for him. Even when he comes to bless his sons at the end of his life, it is really his wife who is pulling all the strings. In fact the only action that Yitzchak himself does is the digging of the wells in this week’s Torah portion (Genesis 26: 19-22). Therefore it seems worthy of closer examination if we are to gain an insight into Yitzchak’s personality.
“Yitzchak dug anew the wells of water which they had dug in the days of Avraham his father and the Philistines had stopped up after Avraham’s death; and he called them by the same names that his father had called them. Yitzchak’s servants dug in the valley and found there a well of fresh water. The herdsmen of Gerar quarrelled with Yitzchak’s herdsmen saying. “The water is ours,” so he called the name of that well Esek (involvement), because they involved themselves with him. Then they dug another well, and they quarrelled over that also; so he called its name Sitnah (quarrel). He relocated from there and dug another well; they did not quarrel over it, so he called its name Rechovot (width), and said, “For now G-d has granted us ample space, and we can be fruitful in the land.” He went from there to Beer-Sheva...”
Since the Torah seems to spend so much space on actions which seem so trivial, the commentators have understood that there must be deeper significance to these events. Ramban, based on the principle that the experiences of the patriarchs are precursors of events in Jewish history, explains that the three wells represent the three Temples, the two that were destroyed, and the third Temple that will be built in the Messianic era, and which will not be destroyed. The Temple is likened to a well of water, as Jeremiah says “because they have forsaken the L-rd, the well of living waters” (17: 13). The first Temple was destroyed because of involvement with idolatry and other forbidden things, the second was destroyed because of the quarrelling between the Jews, the baseless hatred that divided them. The Third Temple will be in a time of increased borders and fruitfulness, and is therefore implied in the well named Rechovot.
It seems strange, however, that after the first two wells were lost to the herdsmen of Gerar, Yitzchak persevered and dug another well, yet after the third well which was uncontested he abandoned the place, and relocates to Beer-Sheva. If these wells represent the three Temples should he not have remained at Rechovot for a greater length of time, just as the third Temple will be the final one? The Ba’al HaTurim explains the historical significance of these wells slightly differently. He says that Esek refers to the Babylonians, who involved themselves in military conquest against the Land of Israel, Sitna refers to Haman, who plotted evil against the Jewish nation. And Rechovot corresponds to the Greeks who forbade the Jews from going to the Mikva, thus preventing them from having children. Miraculously the Jews found ways of immersing themselves in Mikvas surreptitiously, and were able to be fruitful, hence “we can be fruitful in the land”.
Rav Tzaddok HaCohen explains that these two explanations, of the Ramban and the Ba’al HaTurim are two sides of the same coin. The first well refers to the First Temple period, when the threat to the nation was from Babylon, who were engaged in a war of conquest. They were not against the Jews any more than any other nation in the region, and were simply trying to extend their borders as far as possible. The second well represents the Second Temple period, which was categorised by the hatred of Jews best symbolised by Haman. Wars were directed against Jewish rights to independence, not with a desire to take control of the Land of Israel. The third well, which according to the Ba’al HaTurim represents the Greek conquest, represents the entire period of Jewish history from the time of the Greeks, through the destruction of the Temple by the Romans, to our present situation. The Greeks did not try to kill the Jews physically, or even deny them vestiges of self-rule. Their goal was to try and destroy the spirituality and religion of the Jews. This was the approach taken by the herdsmen of Gerar with the final well, watching as Yitzchak and his men dug it, and perhaps even offering assistance. However, Yitzchak realised that this situation was even more dangerous than the former two. When nations attempt to destroy the Jewish nation there is usually very little that we as Jews can do. We can only persevere and pray that things will get better. However when the nations try to welcome the Jews that can be even more dangerous. For Yitzchak the only option was to leave there, and return to Beer-Sheva, a city founded by his father and a bastion of the ideals that Avraham had brought into the world.
“Yitzchak dug anew the wells of water which they had dug in the days of Avraham his father and the Philistines had stopped up after Avraham’s death; and he called them by the same names that his father had called them. Yitzchak’s servants dug in the valley and found there a well of fresh water. The herdsmen of Gerar quarrelled with Yitzchak’s herdsmen saying. “The water is ours,” so he called the name of that well Esek (involvement), because they involved themselves with him. Then they dug another well, and they quarrelled over that also; so he called its name Sitnah (quarrel). He relocated from there and dug another well; they did not quarrel over it, so he called its name Rechovot (width), and said, “For now G-d has granted us ample space, and we can be fruitful in the land.” He went from there to Beer-Sheva...”
Since the Torah seems to spend so much space on actions which seem so trivial, the commentators have understood that there must be deeper significance to these events. Ramban, based on the principle that the experiences of the patriarchs are precursors of events in Jewish history, explains that the three wells represent the three Temples, the two that were destroyed, and the third Temple that will be built in the Messianic era, and which will not be destroyed. The Temple is likened to a well of water, as Jeremiah says “because they have forsaken the L-rd, the well of living waters” (17: 13). The first Temple was destroyed because of involvement with idolatry and other forbidden things, the second was destroyed because of the quarrelling between the Jews, the baseless hatred that divided them. The Third Temple will be in a time of increased borders and fruitfulness, and is therefore implied in the well named Rechovot.
It seems strange, however, that after the first two wells were lost to the herdsmen of Gerar, Yitzchak persevered and dug another well, yet after the third well which was uncontested he abandoned the place, and relocates to Beer-Sheva. If these wells represent the three Temples should he not have remained at Rechovot for a greater length of time, just as the third Temple will be the final one? The Ba’al HaTurim explains the historical significance of these wells slightly differently. He says that Esek refers to the Babylonians, who involved themselves in military conquest against the Land of Israel, Sitna refers to Haman, who plotted evil against the Jewish nation. And Rechovot corresponds to the Greeks who forbade the Jews from going to the Mikva, thus preventing them from having children. Miraculously the Jews found ways of immersing themselves in Mikvas surreptitiously, and were able to be fruitful, hence “we can be fruitful in the land”.
Rav Tzaddok HaCohen explains that these two explanations, of the Ramban and the Ba’al HaTurim are two sides of the same coin. The first well refers to the First Temple period, when the threat to the nation was from Babylon, who were engaged in a war of conquest. They were not against the Jews any more than any other nation in the region, and were simply trying to extend their borders as far as possible. The second well represents the Second Temple period, which was categorised by the hatred of Jews best symbolised by Haman. Wars were directed against Jewish rights to independence, not with a desire to take control of the Land of Israel. The third well, which according to the Ba’al HaTurim represents the Greek conquest, represents the entire period of Jewish history from the time of the Greeks, through the destruction of the Temple by the Romans, to our present situation. The Greeks did not try to kill the Jews physically, or even deny them vestiges of self-rule. Their goal was to try and destroy the spirituality and religion of the Jews. This was the approach taken by the herdsmen of Gerar with the final well, watching as Yitzchak and his men dug it, and perhaps even offering assistance. However, Yitzchak realised that this situation was even more dangerous than the former two. When nations attempt to destroy the Jewish nation there is usually very little that we as Jews can do. We can only persevere and pray that things will get better. However when the nations try to welcome the Jews that can be even more dangerous. For Yitzchak the only option was to leave there, and return to Beer-Sheva, a city founded by his father and a bastion of the ideals that Avraham had brought into the world.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Parshat Toledot 2
“G-d formed from the earth every beast of the field and every bird of the sky and brought them to Adam to see what he would call each one; and whatever Adam called each living creature, that remained its name” (Genesis 2: 19). We see from here the importance of names. A person’s Hebrew name is not mere coincidence, but is has an influence over their character traits, and shows us the potential within that person. The Hebrew word for “name” is Shem, which is related to the word Sham meaning “there”. How much more important to understanding the character of a person is a name given in the Torah, where every word has many layers of hidden meaning.
Esav (Esau) is born at the beginning of this week’s Torah reading. But his name appears to be a description of what he looked like as a baby, rather than a key to understanding his personality. “The first one emerged red, entirely like a hairy mantle; so they called him Esav” (ibid. 25; 25). Rashi explains that the word Esav is from the word Assui (made), because when Esav emerged from the womb he was covered in hair like an adult. This seems a strange reason for a name. All babies when they are born look like either aliens or Winston Churchill, yet very few are named E.T. or Winston.
Equally perplexing is the other name which Esav receives later in life, Edom (Red). This name is not a consequence of his ruddy appearance, but rather because he sold his birthright for a pot of red stew (ibid. 30). Why is the colour of Esav’s lunch the most appropriate description of who he really is?
The fact that Esav was born “fully made” gives us an insight into his attitude to the world. Adam and Eve were created after everything else was already formed, in order that they should enter into a “made” world, where they would not lack for anything. They had the potential to take the finished world, and elevate to a higher plane through their actions. However, through sinning, they plunged the world into imperfection, and forced their descendants to have to work to survive.
Similarly Esav was given everything when he was born. He was complete, and should have used that perfection as a building base to strive for even greater spiritual heights. To do this he needed to appreciate the world into which he was born, and recognise his debt of gratitude to G-d. However when he returns home exhausted, he tells Ya’akov that he doesn’t even want to know what he is eating “Pour into me now some of that red stuff”. He doesn't want to eat and enjoy the food, but just to have it poured into him. And the only thing he sees in the food is its colour.
Instead of perceiving the physical world as a tool to reach spiritual perfection, he thinks that this world is the totality of reality. He sees no use for the birthright, because he is finite, “I am going to die”. Therefore he is labelled with the derogatory name “Edom”, which not only means red, but is also related to Adam, the first man who also spurned the gifts that G-d had given him in this world.
Just as Adam forfeited his right to remain in the Garden of Eden, so too Esav gave up his birthright, the heritage of Avraham and Yitzchak. In place of the quest for spiritual perfection Esav sees only the material finite world, and despairs. However, by spurning the birthright he also gives up his share in the world to come, in the unbounded paradise that remains stored away for the righteous. He only sees only the physicality of the world, and that he is going to die, but ignores the spiritual elements of life, and the future rewards that they can bring.
Esav (Esau) is born at the beginning of this week’s Torah reading. But his name appears to be a description of what he looked like as a baby, rather than a key to understanding his personality. “The first one emerged red, entirely like a hairy mantle; so they called him Esav” (ibid. 25; 25). Rashi explains that the word Esav is from the word Assui (made), because when Esav emerged from the womb he was covered in hair like an adult. This seems a strange reason for a name. All babies when they are born look like either aliens or Winston Churchill, yet very few are named E.T. or Winston.
Equally perplexing is the other name which Esav receives later in life, Edom (Red). This name is not a consequence of his ruddy appearance, but rather because he sold his birthright for a pot of red stew (ibid. 30). Why is the colour of Esav’s lunch the most appropriate description of who he really is?
The fact that Esav was born “fully made” gives us an insight into his attitude to the world. Adam and Eve were created after everything else was already formed, in order that they should enter into a “made” world, where they would not lack for anything. They had the potential to take the finished world, and elevate to a higher plane through their actions. However, through sinning, they plunged the world into imperfection, and forced their descendants to have to work to survive.
Similarly Esav was given everything when he was born. He was complete, and should have used that perfection as a building base to strive for even greater spiritual heights. To do this he needed to appreciate the world into which he was born, and recognise his debt of gratitude to G-d. However when he returns home exhausted, he tells Ya’akov that he doesn’t even want to know what he is eating “Pour into me now some of that red stuff”. He doesn't want to eat and enjoy the food, but just to have it poured into him. And the only thing he sees in the food is its colour.
Instead of perceiving the physical world as a tool to reach spiritual perfection, he thinks that this world is the totality of reality. He sees no use for the birthright, because he is finite, “I am going to die”. Therefore he is labelled with the derogatory name “Edom”, which not only means red, but is also related to Adam, the first man who also spurned the gifts that G-d had given him in this world.
Just as Adam forfeited his right to remain in the Garden of Eden, so too Esav gave up his birthright, the heritage of Avraham and Yitzchak. In place of the quest for spiritual perfection Esav sees only the material finite world, and despairs. However, by spurning the birthright he also gives up his share in the world to come, in the unbounded paradise that remains stored away for the righteous. He only sees only the physicality of the world, and that he is going to die, but ignores the spiritual elements of life, and the future rewards that they can bring.
Parshat Toledot 1
The episode of Ya’akov “stealing” the blessings from his father Yitzchak is one of the most misunderstood incidents in the Torah. How could Ya’akov, who is the summit of the three patriarchs, the pillars upon which our religion rests, stoop to the deceit and dishonesty of cheating his own brother out of his blessings. Also, we must ask, how can anyone steal a blessing? A blessing is an expression of potential, showing someone their strengths and weaknesses, therefore it is impossible to “steal” someone else’s blessing. (For example, one could never turn a potato into an apple by reciting a different blessing over it.) And how could Yitzchak be so blind to Esav’s behaviour, that he didn’t realise which of his sons most deserved the blessings? Finally, if Rivka could see the truth, and had received prophecy stating that Esav would be subservient to Ya’akov, why didn’t she simply explain to Yitzchak that he was making a mistake, as Sarah had told Avraham when she knew he was wrong about Yishmael?
If we look closer at the text, we find that Yitzchak didn’t make as big a mistake as we may have thought. After he has blessed Ya’akov, thinking that he was Esav, and Esav himself comes in, Esav asks “Have you not reserved a blessing for me1?” Yitzchak explains that he has already given away the blessings, and none remain. Yet when Ya’akov leaves, to flee from Esav and to find a wife, Yitzchak summons him and blesses him2. In fact this is the “Abrahamic” blessing, that includes being fruitful, and the promise of the land of Israel. So Yitzchak obviously knew where the spiritual continuation of the nation lay. In contrast, the blessings that he had intended to give Esav are all material, the dew of the heaven, the fat of the land, corn and wine, subjugation of other nations, etc.
The Torah describes Esav as “A cunning hunter, a man of the field”, whereas Ya’akov is “A quiet man, dwelling in tents”3. Yitzchak understood the different natures of his two sons, and envisioned a partnership between them; Esav would be responsible for supplying the physical needs of his brother, and leave Ya’akov to devote himself totally to study and spirituality. (We find a similar arrangement between two of the sons of Ya’akov, whereby Yissachar was involved in commerce, and supported his brother Zevulun in his full time Torah study. This way they could each maximise their potential, and share in the rewards.) However, Yitzchak had underestimated the extent to which Esav was involved in the material world. He was totally immersed in the “survival of the fittest” of the physical, that even human life ceased to have any importance for him. Rivka, having grown up in Padan Aram surrounded by this materialistic mentality, was able to recognise the truth of who her eldest son was.
However this would not per se qualify Ya’akov for the material blessings. He had to show that he was able to survive in the “real” world, outside the confines of the tents of Torah. Rivka realised this, and therefore told Ya’akov that he must actually become Esav, if only temporarily, by impersonating his brother. Wearing Esav’s clothes is also a metaphor for taking on some of his skills and abilities. Not only that, but Ya’akov must show his ability to survive through less than ideal behaviour when necessary. In this way he was able to receive the material blessings from his father, by becoming Esav he earned his right to a share of the physical world. From this point on, the path to spiritual perfection is through revealing the G-dliness hidden in the physical, thus elevating it to the level of the Divine.
1Genesis 27: 36
2ibid. 28: 3
3ibid. 25: 27
If we look closer at the text, we find that Yitzchak didn’t make as big a mistake as we may have thought. After he has blessed Ya’akov, thinking that he was Esav, and Esav himself comes in, Esav asks “Have you not reserved a blessing for me1?” Yitzchak explains that he has already given away the blessings, and none remain. Yet when Ya’akov leaves, to flee from Esav and to find a wife, Yitzchak summons him and blesses him2. In fact this is the “Abrahamic” blessing, that includes being fruitful, and the promise of the land of Israel. So Yitzchak obviously knew where the spiritual continuation of the nation lay. In contrast, the blessings that he had intended to give Esav are all material, the dew of the heaven, the fat of the land, corn and wine, subjugation of other nations, etc.
The Torah describes Esav as “A cunning hunter, a man of the field”, whereas Ya’akov is “A quiet man, dwelling in tents”3. Yitzchak understood the different natures of his two sons, and envisioned a partnership between them; Esav would be responsible for supplying the physical needs of his brother, and leave Ya’akov to devote himself totally to study and spirituality. (We find a similar arrangement between two of the sons of Ya’akov, whereby Yissachar was involved in commerce, and supported his brother Zevulun in his full time Torah study. This way they could each maximise their potential, and share in the rewards.) However, Yitzchak had underestimated the extent to which Esav was involved in the material world. He was totally immersed in the “survival of the fittest” of the physical, that even human life ceased to have any importance for him. Rivka, having grown up in Padan Aram surrounded by this materialistic mentality, was able to recognise the truth of who her eldest son was.
However this would not per se qualify Ya’akov for the material blessings. He had to show that he was able to survive in the “real” world, outside the confines of the tents of Torah. Rivka realised this, and therefore told Ya’akov that he must actually become Esav, if only temporarily, by impersonating his brother. Wearing Esav’s clothes is also a metaphor for taking on some of his skills and abilities. Not only that, but Ya’akov must show his ability to survive through less than ideal behaviour when necessary. In this way he was able to receive the material blessings from his father, by becoming Esav he earned his right to a share of the physical world. From this point on, the path to spiritual perfection is through revealing the G-dliness hidden in the physical, thus elevating it to the level of the Divine.
1Genesis 27: 36
2ibid. 28: 3
3ibid. 25: 27
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Parshat Vayera 4
The Parsha opens with G-d appearing to Avraham. We can’t begin to imagine the sublime spiritual delight of basking in the actual presence of G-d. Avraham was now at the highest level of prophecy, and was able to literally hold a conversation with the Creator of the universe. Yet in the very next verse, when he sees three men in the desert, at a distance, he runs to greet them. He cuts G-d short, as it were, excuses himself from the prophecy he is receiving, and rushes to offer hospitality to a ragged group of wandering travellers. Even though offering hospitality is clearly a very important thing to do, why would anyone choose to stop a conversation with G-d, the ultimate in spirituality, in order to do one single good deed? Furthermore, who gave him permission to break off this prophecy in order to fulfil the Mitzvah of hospitality? Shouldn’t G-d have told him to leave if that was really more important?
To answer this question, we must digress to look at the origin of idolatry, which Avraham dedicated his life to refuting. Obviously people were not so naive as to spend 15 minutes building an idol, set it on a pedestal, and then become confused as to who created whom. Rather, the chain of events which led up to idolatry was as follows. Many things in this world appear to have no apparent function other than their beauty. For example, to you or I it would make very little difference if, instead of 75 billion stars, there were two missing. If the only purpose that G-d has for creating the stars is for beauty, then it would seem that we should spend time contemplating that beauty. Since the stars are not visible during the daytime, doesn’t it make sense to make pictures and replicas of them so we can spend more time involved in the wonders of creation? Perhaps we should set aside regular times for this contemplation, formalising our spirituality in order to reach a greater understanding? And since some people are more spiritually inclined than others, it would make sense that we should have them instruct us as to how to best understand the wisdom of the stars. Soon enough, you have an entire religion built up, worshipping idols of stars.
This is the process that occurred in the generations prior to Avraham’s, and this was the society in which he was raised. At which point did they make their mistake? Surely the last step of worshipping the stars was merely an inevitable consequence of everything that had gone before. In fact, the real mistake was the first step, searching the heavens for spirituality. What Avraham realised, was that the purpose of life was not meditation of the sublime, but rather the hands on, day to day activities. It was these that we should concentrate on. That is why he dedicated his life to helping others: not because he was the “nice guy” of the ancient world, but because he saw this as the purpose of mankind.
Therefore, to return to our questions, it was obvious to Avraham that he was obligated to run out to greet guests, even if it meant interrupting his dialogue with G-d. The purpose of existence was not contemplating the Divine, but rather the small details of our daily conduct. He knew that since G-d had chosen him, and singled him out to begin the Jewish nation, that G-d agreed with him that this was the correct path.
In Victor E. Frankl’s book, ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’, in the section describing his experiences in concentration camps during the holocaust, he summarises this idea very well. He writes: “We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life-daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right actions and right conduct...”Life” does not mean something vague, but something very real and concrete, just as life’s tasks are also very real and concrete.”
The opening of the Parsha teaches us that the most important goals in life are not contemplating abstracts and philosophies, but rather the nitty-gritty details of how we behave every minute of the day. This is also the reason taht Jewish Law consists almost entirely of techinical details, rather than sweeping statements about “belief” or “philosophy”. It is in these details that we define our relationship with the Divine.
To answer this question, we must digress to look at the origin of idolatry, which Avraham dedicated his life to refuting. Obviously people were not so naive as to spend 15 minutes building an idol, set it on a pedestal, and then become confused as to who created whom. Rather, the chain of events which led up to idolatry was as follows. Many things in this world appear to have no apparent function other than their beauty. For example, to you or I it would make very little difference if, instead of 75 billion stars, there were two missing. If the only purpose that G-d has for creating the stars is for beauty, then it would seem that we should spend time contemplating that beauty. Since the stars are not visible during the daytime, doesn’t it make sense to make pictures and replicas of them so we can spend more time involved in the wonders of creation? Perhaps we should set aside regular times for this contemplation, formalising our spirituality in order to reach a greater understanding? And since some people are more spiritually inclined than others, it would make sense that we should have them instruct us as to how to best understand the wisdom of the stars. Soon enough, you have an entire religion built up, worshipping idols of stars.
This is the process that occurred in the generations prior to Avraham’s, and this was the society in which he was raised. At which point did they make their mistake? Surely the last step of worshipping the stars was merely an inevitable consequence of everything that had gone before. In fact, the real mistake was the first step, searching the heavens for spirituality. What Avraham realised, was that the purpose of life was not meditation of the sublime, but rather the hands on, day to day activities. It was these that we should concentrate on. That is why he dedicated his life to helping others: not because he was the “nice guy” of the ancient world, but because he saw this as the purpose of mankind.
Therefore, to return to our questions, it was obvious to Avraham that he was obligated to run out to greet guests, even if it meant interrupting his dialogue with G-d. The purpose of existence was not contemplating the Divine, but rather the small details of our daily conduct. He knew that since G-d had chosen him, and singled him out to begin the Jewish nation, that G-d agreed with him that this was the correct path.
In Victor E. Frankl’s book, ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’, in the section describing his experiences in concentration camps during the holocaust, he summarises this idea very well. He writes: “We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life-daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right actions and right conduct...”Life” does not mean something vague, but something very real and concrete, just as life’s tasks are also very real and concrete.”
The opening of the Parsha teaches us that the most important goals in life are not contemplating abstracts and philosophies, but rather the nitty-gritty details of how we behave every minute of the day. This is also the reason taht Jewish Law consists almost entirely of techinical details, rather than sweeping statements about “belief” or “philosophy”. It is in these details that we define our relationship with the Divine.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Parshat Vayera 3
The Midrash Tanchuma (quoted in part by Rashi to Genesis 18; 1) explains why G-d appeared to Avraham in Alonei Mamre:
Avraham had three close friends, Aner, Eshkol and Mamre. When G-d told Avraham to circumcise himself he asked each of them for advice. Aner told him that he would endanger himself if the relatives of the kings came for revenge and would be unable to flee. Eshkol said to him that it was dangerous at his age to perform this operation. Mamre replied, “What are you asking for advice for? G-d has saved you from the fiery furnace into which you were thrown by Nimrod, and performed miracles for you and saved you from the four kings. Were it not for Him and his powers you would have been killed. G-d saved all of your 248 limbs and organs, and yet when He asks you to sacrifice a little bit of one part of your body you come to me for advice?” Because Mamre gave Avraham the advice G-d chose to reveal Himself to Avraham in his territory. This is why the Torah says “G-d appeared to [Avraham] in the fields of Mamre”.
Why did Avraham chose to ask advice, surely after all that he had been through and all the tests that he had faced he would not doubt G-d’s commands. And why did Avraham not follow the majority opinion to not circumcise himself. Aner and Eshkol’s advice seems as valid as Mamre’s.
Avraham and Sarah devoted themselves to bringing the message of monotheism to the world. Wherever they travelled they would gather people to them and show them the foolishness of idolatry, and the truth of a belief in one G-d. These people in turn would continue to teach others about G-d, and bring more people close to G-d. The person closest to Avraham was his servant Eliezer, and Avraham had assumed that he who would inherit him and continue with Avraham’s work.
To be able to make an impact on the world, Avraham needed to be preaching a universal message. Any religious beliefs or requirements that would set Avraham and his followers apart from the rest of society would minimise the number of people who would join the faith. Though Avraham was not afraid to set himself apart from the rest of society (he is called Ivri because he set himself on one bank of the river even though the whole world was on the other side), he thought that the future of monotheism was with those he could influence. He was therefore concerned to attract as many followers as possible.
However, G-d had other plans. G-d knew that Judaism would not be continued through those who had become attached to Avraham. They were more influenced by his personality than his beliefs, and without Avraham at the helm they gave up and disappeared from history. Despite all the followers that Avraham had gathered during his lifetime, when the Jews went down to Egypt, only Ya’akov and his immediate family remained.
Avraham underestimated the need for an heir to ensure the continuation of monotheism. He also failed to realise that it is through the uniqueness of the future Jewish nation that they will survive. When G-d told him to circumcise himself and his entire household, he didn’t question G-d’s commands. However he wanted to understand them. How would others react to Avraham making himself physically different than any other nation? Could he retain converts and allies if he alienated himself through circumcision? Therefore he first asked his three close friends for their advice.
Avraham would have performed G-d’s command regardless of the advice he received, which is why he didn’t follow the majority opinion. He wanted to gauge the response of others. Though Aner and Eshkol gave seemingly sensible advice, they showed their lack of faith in G-d. They were looking at the normal course of events, and didn’t realise that Avraham’s realtionship with G-d was beyond the natural cycle. Only Mamre understood that the whole religion of Avraham was based on continued miracles. Avraham perceived from Mamre’s advice that though many of the nations may choose not to understand the relationship of Avraham and his descendants with G-d, if they would look with an open mind they could come to terms with the uniqueness of the nation. Circumcision was a prerequisite for Yitzchak’s birth, because only once Avraham had himself shown to the world that Judaism is beyond the natural order, would G-d perform the miracle of giving him and Sarah a child.
It is the individuality and uniqueness of Judaism that have kept the nation alive for over 3000 years. Whenever the Jews tried to become like the surrounding nations they have grown weak and slowly disappeared. Only through the uniqueness symbolised by circumcision, and shown through the miraculous birth of Yitzchak, have they been able to remain a nation, and make the uniqueness of G-d known in the world.
The Malbim captures this idea in his commentary to the verse “Av Hamon Goyim” (17; 5) which is the meaning of the name Avraham: “Do not think that the nations will reject you becasue you have circumcised yourself. On the contrary, as a result of your distinction they will regard you as their guide and patriarch.”
Avraham had three close friends, Aner, Eshkol and Mamre. When G-d told Avraham to circumcise himself he asked each of them for advice. Aner told him that he would endanger himself if the relatives of the kings came for revenge and would be unable to flee. Eshkol said to him that it was dangerous at his age to perform this operation. Mamre replied, “What are you asking for advice for? G-d has saved you from the fiery furnace into which you were thrown by Nimrod, and performed miracles for you and saved you from the four kings. Were it not for Him and his powers you would have been killed. G-d saved all of your 248 limbs and organs, and yet when He asks you to sacrifice a little bit of one part of your body you come to me for advice?” Because Mamre gave Avraham the advice G-d chose to reveal Himself to Avraham in his territory. This is why the Torah says “G-d appeared to [Avraham] in the fields of Mamre”.
Why did Avraham chose to ask advice, surely after all that he had been through and all the tests that he had faced he would not doubt G-d’s commands. And why did Avraham not follow the majority opinion to not circumcise himself. Aner and Eshkol’s advice seems as valid as Mamre’s.
Avraham and Sarah devoted themselves to bringing the message of monotheism to the world. Wherever they travelled they would gather people to them and show them the foolishness of idolatry, and the truth of a belief in one G-d. These people in turn would continue to teach others about G-d, and bring more people close to G-d. The person closest to Avraham was his servant Eliezer, and Avraham had assumed that he who would inherit him and continue with Avraham’s work.
To be able to make an impact on the world, Avraham needed to be preaching a universal message. Any religious beliefs or requirements that would set Avraham and his followers apart from the rest of society would minimise the number of people who would join the faith. Though Avraham was not afraid to set himself apart from the rest of society (he is called Ivri because he set himself on one bank of the river even though the whole world was on the other side), he thought that the future of monotheism was with those he could influence. He was therefore concerned to attract as many followers as possible.
However, G-d had other plans. G-d knew that Judaism would not be continued through those who had become attached to Avraham. They were more influenced by his personality than his beliefs, and without Avraham at the helm they gave up and disappeared from history. Despite all the followers that Avraham had gathered during his lifetime, when the Jews went down to Egypt, only Ya’akov and his immediate family remained.
Avraham underestimated the need for an heir to ensure the continuation of monotheism. He also failed to realise that it is through the uniqueness of the future Jewish nation that they will survive. When G-d told him to circumcise himself and his entire household, he didn’t question G-d’s commands. However he wanted to understand them. How would others react to Avraham making himself physically different than any other nation? Could he retain converts and allies if he alienated himself through circumcision? Therefore he first asked his three close friends for their advice.
Avraham would have performed G-d’s command regardless of the advice he received, which is why he didn’t follow the majority opinion. He wanted to gauge the response of others. Though Aner and Eshkol gave seemingly sensible advice, they showed their lack of faith in G-d. They were looking at the normal course of events, and didn’t realise that Avraham’s realtionship with G-d was beyond the natural cycle. Only Mamre understood that the whole religion of Avraham was based on continued miracles. Avraham perceived from Mamre’s advice that though many of the nations may choose not to understand the relationship of Avraham and his descendants with G-d, if they would look with an open mind they could come to terms with the uniqueness of the nation. Circumcision was a prerequisite for Yitzchak’s birth, because only once Avraham had himself shown to the world that Judaism is beyond the natural order, would G-d perform the miracle of giving him and Sarah a child.
It is the individuality and uniqueness of Judaism that have kept the nation alive for over 3000 years. Whenever the Jews tried to become like the surrounding nations they have grown weak and slowly disappeared. Only through the uniqueness symbolised by circumcision, and shown through the miraculous birth of Yitzchak, have they been able to remain a nation, and make the uniqueness of G-d known in the world.
The Malbim captures this idea in his commentary to the verse “Av Hamon Goyim” (17; 5) which is the meaning of the name Avraham: “Do not think that the nations will reject you becasue you have circumcised yourself. On the contrary, as a result of your distinction they will regard you as their guide and patriarch.”
Parshat Vayera 2
In our Torah portion Avraham argues with G-d over the fate of Sodom and Gomorra. When G-d tells him that these cities are about to be destroyed for their wickedness Avraham begins protracted negotiations to try and save the inhabitants. “Perhaps there are fifty righteous people in the city?”... “Maybe there are forty five”... until finally “Would you destroy the city for the sake of ten [righteous people]?” (Genesis 18; 24-32).
Rashi explains that Sodom was actually a metropolis of five separate cities, so that when Avraham mentioned fifty he was praying that G-d save all five cities for the sake of ten righteous people in each. Similarly, forty, thirty, twenty and ten were entreaties to spare at least some of the cities if any would contain ten righteous people. When Avraham asked whether there were forty five righteous people he was asking G-d to make up the minyan (so to speak) if there were at least nine righteous people in each city. When he realised that there were not even nine people worthy of being saved Avraham conceded defeat and stopped praying on their behalf. Rashi adds that Avraham did not pray on behalf of less than nine, because he knew that in the time of Noach there were eight righteous people (Noach, his wife, their three sons and their wives), yet that was not sufficient to avoid the flood.
Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz asks how Avraham could have taken Noach as his role model? Isiah describes the flood as the “waters of Noach” (54; 9), and the commentaries there explain that the flood is called Noach’s flood because he is held partially responsible. He should have prayed for his generation to be spared, but instead he was only concerned with saving himself and his family. If Noach is criticised for not having prayed, how could Avraham have learnt from him? Conversely, if there were only eight righteous people in Noach’s time, and that was not enough to save the world, why is he held accountable for not having prayed?
The Rabbis tell us that before Pharaoh decided to kill all the baby boys born to the Israelites in Egypt he asked his three main advisors for their opinion. Bilam encouraged him, and was eventually killed, Job remained silent, and was later afflicted with great suffering, and Jethro fled, and merited that his descendants would be part of the Jewish nation. Clearly there was no way of preventing Pharaoh from carrying out his evil intentions, which is why Jethro was forced to flee. If so, why was Job punished for his silence, even had he protested it would not have changed the outcome?
We have a tradition that punishment from G-d is never vindictive, but is in order to correct a character flaw that led to the transgression. Rabbi Shmuelevitz explains that the afflictions of Job were not in order to make him suffer, but to make him cry out to G-d. His silence in Pharaoh's court showed that he didn’t identify with the pain and suffering of others. How could anyone remain silent when they hear about such a monstrous plan. He was not being punished for not preventing Pharaoh's decree, for that was impossible, but for not having cried out at the anguish of others.
This is the same reason that Noach is held responsible for the flood. Not that his prayers could have averted G-d’s decree of destruction for the world, because he knew that G-d would not spare the entire world for the sake of only eight people. But nevertheless, he should not have remained silent. Because he did not identify with the suffering of others he was forced to tend to and care for all the animals in the ark for a year. He soon learnt the importance of caring for the needs of others.
Avraham on the other hand had already prayed so hard for the people of Sodom that he was forced to apologise for his behaviour. Once he reached a point where he knew that his prayers would be futile he desisted from his protest, but only after he had shown how sympathetic he was to their plight. This is why Noach is criticised for his actions, while Avraham is praised.
Rashi explains that Sodom was actually a metropolis of five separate cities, so that when Avraham mentioned fifty he was praying that G-d save all five cities for the sake of ten righteous people in each. Similarly, forty, thirty, twenty and ten were entreaties to spare at least some of the cities if any would contain ten righteous people. When Avraham asked whether there were forty five righteous people he was asking G-d to make up the minyan (so to speak) if there were at least nine righteous people in each city. When he realised that there were not even nine people worthy of being saved Avraham conceded defeat and stopped praying on their behalf. Rashi adds that Avraham did not pray on behalf of less than nine, because he knew that in the time of Noach there were eight righteous people (Noach, his wife, their three sons and their wives), yet that was not sufficient to avoid the flood.
Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz asks how Avraham could have taken Noach as his role model? Isiah describes the flood as the “waters of Noach” (54; 9), and the commentaries there explain that the flood is called Noach’s flood because he is held partially responsible. He should have prayed for his generation to be spared, but instead he was only concerned with saving himself and his family. If Noach is criticised for not having prayed, how could Avraham have learnt from him? Conversely, if there were only eight righteous people in Noach’s time, and that was not enough to save the world, why is he held accountable for not having prayed?
The Rabbis tell us that before Pharaoh decided to kill all the baby boys born to the Israelites in Egypt he asked his three main advisors for their opinion. Bilam encouraged him, and was eventually killed, Job remained silent, and was later afflicted with great suffering, and Jethro fled, and merited that his descendants would be part of the Jewish nation. Clearly there was no way of preventing Pharaoh from carrying out his evil intentions, which is why Jethro was forced to flee. If so, why was Job punished for his silence, even had he protested it would not have changed the outcome?
We have a tradition that punishment from G-d is never vindictive, but is in order to correct a character flaw that led to the transgression. Rabbi Shmuelevitz explains that the afflictions of Job were not in order to make him suffer, but to make him cry out to G-d. His silence in Pharaoh's court showed that he didn’t identify with the pain and suffering of others. How could anyone remain silent when they hear about such a monstrous plan. He was not being punished for not preventing Pharaoh's decree, for that was impossible, but for not having cried out at the anguish of others.
This is the same reason that Noach is held responsible for the flood. Not that his prayers could have averted G-d’s decree of destruction for the world, because he knew that G-d would not spare the entire world for the sake of only eight people. But nevertheless, he should not have remained silent. Because he did not identify with the suffering of others he was forced to tend to and care for all the animals in the ark for a year. He soon learnt the importance of caring for the needs of others.
Avraham on the other hand had already prayed so hard for the people of Sodom that he was forced to apologise for his behaviour. Once he reached a point where he knew that his prayers would be futile he desisted from his protest, but only after he had shown how sympathetic he was to their plight. This is why Noach is criticised for his actions, while Avraham is praised.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Parshat Vayera
When G-d tells Avraham that He is about to destroy Sodom and Gemorrah, Avraham pleads and bargains with G-d to save those cities and their inhabitants. During the negotiations, Avraham shows his humility by describing himself as “mere earth and ashes” (Genesis 18; 27). Rabbi Yonasan Eibschitz points out that with the double phrase of ‘earth and ashes’ Avraham is seeking extra merit for the people of Sodom. ‘Earth’ stresses the fact that people are only mortal, and their origin is in the earth. With such a background it is only natural that people are drawn to sin, since the base element of their physical body draws the soul away from G-d.
However, Avraham himself show the futility of this claim. If he was able to surmount such humble origins, and elevate himself to the service of G-d, what excuse do the people of Sodom have? Elsewhere in the Tanach we find a similar claim. The Tzorfati woman asks Eliyahu to leave her home, saying: “Have you come to me to show up my sins, to kill my son?” (IKings 17; 18). Though she was one of the few righteous people of the generation, compared to Eliyahu she felt inadequate, and any shortcomings that she had were highlighted by his near perfection. Though Avraham was arguing on behalf of the Sodomites, his personal commitment showed up their faults. Therefore he added ‘ash’, as a reminder of the fact that he had survived being thrown into a furnace by Nimrod, in Ur Kasdim. Though he survived miraculously, he could have been burnt to ash. Since he personally experienced the miracle of surviving the furnace, he had a greater debt of gratitude to G-d. Therefore he describes himself as ash to plead on behalf of the Sodomites that because they had not experienced this Divine salvation G-d could not reasonably expect such a high level of behaviour from them.
There is another dimension to Avraham describing himself as ‘earth’. G-d changed his name to Avraham, meaning ‘father of many nations’ because Avraham felt an affinity with people of every nation and origin. He was able to see the intrinsic holiness within each person, and bring out that goodness, leading to spiritual growth. Therefore he is like the earth, which spreads across national boundaries indiscriminately. Earth is also the environment in which seeds grow, turning the smallest ‘spark’ of life into trees and flowers.
This ‘mineral’ description of Avraham is in sharp contrast to that of Lot’s wife. After fleeing from Sodom, she looked back to see the destruction, and was turned into a pillar of salt (19; 26). The pillar, which is firmly rooted to a geographical location is the opposite of the earth which covers almost all of the globe. Also, salt is singled out in Midrashic literature as the most infertile substance. For example, when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem, they ploughed it with salt to try and prevent it’s resettlement.
Avraham’s name shows his ability to reach out to everybody. Lot’s wife, according to Midrashic literature (e.g. Ramban to 19; 17) was named Irit, which means ‘city dweller’. She was firmly attached to her locale to the point where she was unable to leave, even though it cost her her life. Avraham’s humility made him the international man, Lot’s wife epitomised the Sodomite mentality of ‘what’s mine is mine’ (Ethics of the Fathers 5; 10), which prevented any connection or feeling of fraternity with any visitors or strangers.
Yet these three minerals, earth, ash and salt all come together on the altar in the Temple. The main altar is known as the Mizbeach HaAdama (earthen altar), and their were always ashes on it. In addition, the Torah commands that each sacrifice must be accompanied by a small amount of salt (Leviticus 2: 13). This symbolises the dual nature of the Temple and the Jewish people, as both concerned with the welfare of the world, and personifying humility, while at the same time clinging to the laws, traditions and customs that have been practised through the millennia.
However, Avraham himself show the futility of this claim. If he was able to surmount such humble origins, and elevate himself to the service of G-d, what excuse do the people of Sodom have? Elsewhere in the Tanach we find a similar claim. The Tzorfati woman asks Eliyahu to leave her home, saying: “Have you come to me to show up my sins, to kill my son?” (IKings 17; 18). Though she was one of the few righteous people of the generation, compared to Eliyahu she felt inadequate, and any shortcomings that she had were highlighted by his near perfection. Though Avraham was arguing on behalf of the Sodomites, his personal commitment showed up their faults. Therefore he added ‘ash’, as a reminder of the fact that he had survived being thrown into a furnace by Nimrod, in Ur Kasdim. Though he survived miraculously, he could have been burnt to ash. Since he personally experienced the miracle of surviving the furnace, he had a greater debt of gratitude to G-d. Therefore he describes himself as ash to plead on behalf of the Sodomites that because they had not experienced this Divine salvation G-d could not reasonably expect such a high level of behaviour from them.
There is another dimension to Avraham describing himself as ‘earth’. G-d changed his name to Avraham, meaning ‘father of many nations’ because Avraham felt an affinity with people of every nation and origin. He was able to see the intrinsic holiness within each person, and bring out that goodness, leading to spiritual growth. Therefore he is like the earth, which spreads across national boundaries indiscriminately. Earth is also the environment in which seeds grow, turning the smallest ‘spark’ of life into trees and flowers.
This ‘mineral’ description of Avraham is in sharp contrast to that of Lot’s wife. After fleeing from Sodom, she looked back to see the destruction, and was turned into a pillar of salt (19; 26). The pillar, which is firmly rooted to a geographical location is the opposite of the earth which covers almost all of the globe. Also, salt is singled out in Midrashic literature as the most infertile substance. For example, when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem, they ploughed it with salt to try and prevent it’s resettlement.
Avraham’s name shows his ability to reach out to everybody. Lot’s wife, according to Midrashic literature (e.g. Ramban to 19; 17) was named Irit, which means ‘city dweller’. She was firmly attached to her locale to the point where she was unable to leave, even though it cost her her life. Avraham’s humility made him the international man, Lot’s wife epitomised the Sodomite mentality of ‘what’s mine is mine’ (Ethics of the Fathers 5; 10), which prevented any connection or feeling of fraternity with any visitors or strangers.
Yet these three minerals, earth, ash and salt all come together on the altar in the Temple. The main altar is known as the Mizbeach HaAdama (earthen altar), and their were always ashes on it. In addition, the Torah commands that each sacrifice must be accompanied by a small amount of salt (Leviticus 2: 13). This symbolises the dual nature of the Temple and the Jewish people, as both concerned with the welfare of the world, and personifying humility, while at the same time clinging to the laws, traditions and customs that have been practised through the millennia.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Parshat Lech Lecha
The Ramban in his commentary on this week’s Torah portion (12; 6 and 10) explains the reason that the Torah goes to such lengths to explain all the details of the lives of the Patriarchs. Based on the Midrash Tanchuma (9) he says that all the actions of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs were precursors of the events that would happen to their descendants in later generations. In a sense their actions and reactions became part of the national psyche to such an extent that they were replayed many times throughout history.
So it is not surprising to find that the war between Avraham and the four kings (chapter 13) hints at future events. The Midrash (Bereishis Rabba 42; 2) states that “The four kings mentioned here hint at the Four Kingdoms (who would later subjugate the Jewish people): the kingdoms of Babylon, Media, Greece and Edom (Rome)”. Ramban (14; 1) explains in more detail: “This whole episode happened to Avraham to indicate that four kingdoms would arise in the world. Eventually, his descendants would overcome them, and the kingdoms would fall into their hands”.
The leader of the four kings was Amrafel, king of Shinar. We know from last week’s Torah reading that Shinar is another word for Babylon (11; 2), so clearly Amrafel symbolises the Babylonian exile, which is also described in Daniel (2; 38) as the most important exile. In Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of the statue symbolising the exiles, Babylon is the head, made of gold. What is even more interesting is that Amrafel was a pseudonym of Nimrod’s. Rashi explains the name Nimrod as related to the word Mered, rebellion, because he was the chief instigator of the building of the tower of Babel. However he explains that Amrafel literally means “told him to fall”, which is a reference to Nimrod’s casting Avraham into the furnace. What Rashi doesn’t say is that Nimrod also means “told him to fall”, in Aramaic. So the two traits which best describe Nimrod are his idolatrous rebellion against G-d, and throwing Avraham into the furnace.
The Rabbi’s teach us that the four exiles correspond to the four cardinal sins of idolatry, sexual licentiousness, murder and causeless hatred. The sin which is most associated with the Babylonian exile is idolatry. Daniel (3) relates that Nebuchadnezzar set up a golden statue and commanded all his subjects to bow down to it. Three of his Jewish advisors, Chananiah, Misha’el and Azariah, refused to prostrate themselves to it. Nebuchadnezzar told them “If you do not prostrate yourselves, you will immediately be thrown into a fiery, burning furnace; and who is the god who can save you from my hands?” (verse 15).
This is so similar to the Midrash about Avraham and Nimrod: Nimrod looked the boy [Avraham] over and started his interrogation. He asked him to bow down to fire. Avraham shot back: “How can I bow down to fire, when water will put out the fire?” Nimrod, his anger quickly rising, shouted out, “Bow down to water.” Again, Avraham had an answer: “How can I bow down to water, when the clouds on high contain water?” Nimrod responded: “Bow down to the clouds!” Avraham responded: “What about the wind that disperses the clouds?” And Nimrod: “Bow down to the wind!” Avraham answered still again: “But what of man, who contains wind (the Hebrew word for wind is “ruach” which can also refer to the life force found in living creatures)?” Nimrod had enough of this game and finally said: “Enough of your words, I worship only fire and into the furnace you go. Your God will come, you pray to Him and He will save you!”.
However, there is an important difference between Nimrod and Nebuchadnezzar. Even after Avraham survived in the furnace Nimrod was still prepared to wage war against him. He remained unconvinced of the supremacy of G-d. But Nebuchadnezzar recognised the miracle that he witnessed, “Nebuchadnezzar exclaimed and said, ‘Blessed is the G-d of Shadrach Mashach and Abed-nego (Chananiah, Misha’el and Azariah), Who sent His angel and saved His servants who relied on Him.… for there is no other god able to save in this manner.” (Daniel 3; 28-9).
So it is not surprising to find that the war between Avraham and the four kings (chapter 13) hints at future events. The Midrash (Bereishis Rabba 42; 2) states that “The four kings mentioned here hint at the Four Kingdoms (who would later subjugate the Jewish people): the kingdoms of Babylon, Media, Greece and Edom (Rome)”. Ramban (14; 1) explains in more detail: “This whole episode happened to Avraham to indicate that four kingdoms would arise in the world. Eventually, his descendants would overcome them, and the kingdoms would fall into their hands”.
The leader of the four kings was Amrafel, king of Shinar. We know from last week’s Torah reading that Shinar is another word for Babylon (11; 2), so clearly Amrafel symbolises the Babylonian exile, which is also described in Daniel (2; 38) as the most important exile. In Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of the statue symbolising the exiles, Babylon is the head, made of gold. What is even more interesting is that Amrafel was a pseudonym of Nimrod’s. Rashi explains the name Nimrod as related to the word Mered, rebellion, because he was the chief instigator of the building of the tower of Babel. However he explains that Amrafel literally means “told him to fall”, which is a reference to Nimrod’s casting Avraham into the furnace. What Rashi doesn’t say is that Nimrod also means “told him to fall”, in Aramaic. So the two traits which best describe Nimrod are his idolatrous rebellion against G-d, and throwing Avraham into the furnace.
The Rabbi’s teach us that the four exiles correspond to the four cardinal sins of idolatry, sexual licentiousness, murder and causeless hatred. The sin which is most associated with the Babylonian exile is idolatry. Daniel (3) relates that Nebuchadnezzar set up a golden statue and commanded all his subjects to bow down to it. Three of his Jewish advisors, Chananiah, Misha’el and Azariah, refused to prostrate themselves to it. Nebuchadnezzar told them “If you do not prostrate yourselves, you will immediately be thrown into a fiery, burning furnace; and who is the god who can save you from my hands?” (verse 15).
This is so similar to the Midrash about Avraham and Nimrod: Nimrod looked the boy [Avraham] over and started his interrogation. He asked him to bow down to fire. Avraham shot back: “How can I bow down to fire, when water will put out the fire?” Nimrod, his anger quickly rising, shouted out, “Bow down to water.” Again, Avraham had an answer: “How can I bow down to water, when the clouds on high contain water?” Nimrod responded: “Bow down to the clouds!” Avraham responded: “What about the wind that disperses the clouds?” And Nimrod: “Bow down to the wind!” Avraham answered still again: “But what of man, who contains wind (the Hebrew word for wind is “ruach” which can also refer to the life force found in living creatures)?” Nimrod had enough of this game and finally said: “Enough of your words, I worship only fire and into the furnace you go. Your God will come, you pray to Him and He will save you!”.
However, there is an important difference between Nimrod and Nebuchadnezzar. Even after Avraham survived in the furnace Nimrod was still prepared to wage war against him. He remained unconvinced of the supremacy of G-d. But Nebuchadnezzar recognised the miracle that he witnessed, “Nebuchadnezzar exclaimed and said, ‘Blessed is the G-d of Shadrach Mashach and Abed-nego (Chananiah, Misha’el and Azariah), Who sent His angel and saved His servants who relied on Him.… for there is no other god able to save in this manner.” (Daniel 3; 28-9).
Parshat Lech Lecha
“G-d said to Avram, ‘Go for yourself from your land, from your relatives, and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you’ … Avram took his wife Sarai and Lot, his brother’s son, and all their wealth that they had amassed, and the souls they made in Charan; and they left to go to the land of Canaan, and they came to the land of Canaan.” (Genesis 12; 1-5). This was one of Avraham’s ten tests (Ethics of the Fathers 5; 3); because he hearkened to G-d, and left his home, relatives and family, he showed his faith and trust in G-d. Yet this passage is remarkably similar to that immediately preceding. “Terach took his son Avram, and Lot the son of Charan, his grandson, and his daughter-in-law Sarai, the wife of Avram his son, and they departed with them from Ur Kasdim to go to the land of Canaan; they arrived at Charan and they settled there.” The Torah is not merely telling us the travelogue of Terach and his family, but seems to be implying a parallel between Avram and his father. Both set out for Canaan with their families. However, Avram arrived at his destination, whereas Terach gave up en route and settled in Charan. Surely G-d is as concerned with intent as with deed, therefore we should expect that Terach is praised for beginning the process which Avram was to complete.
Yet even from G-d’s instruction to Avram we see that this is not the case. “Go … from your father’s house...”. G-d explains to Avram that he is not to continue in his father’s path, but to make a new beginning, devoid of his past. Similarly, when Joshua gives his farewell address to the nation, he compares Avraham’s actions with those of Terach. “Your forefathers - Terach, the father of Avraham and the father of Nachor - always dwelt beyond the [Euphrates] river and they served other gods.” (24; 2). Avraham, the founding father of the nation, and the first to embrace monotheism, is contrasted with his father Terach who was still an idolater. Thus, rather than considering Terach meritorious for setting out for the Land of Israel, he has become the epitome of an idolater for his failure to reach that goal. In fact, it seems that Terach’s main failing was his inability to cross the river.
Avraham is described (Genesis 14; 13) as ‘Ivri’ (‘Hebrew’ lit. ‘from the other side’) because he came from the other side of the river. It seems that crossing the Euphrates river and entering into Israel is the crucial distinction between Avraham and Terach, between monotheistic service of G-d andidolatrous worship of alien gods. The Midrash highlights the difference in even starker terms: “I shall give to you and your descendants after you the land where you dwell, all the land of Canaan … and I will be for them as G-d” (17; 8). Rabbi Yudan said, if they enter the Land of Israel they accept G-d’s divinity, and if not they do not accept it.” How can such a simple journey make such a difference? Furthermore, Avraham was commanded by G-d to enter Israel; perhaps if Terach had received such an invitation he could have become the founder of our faith in place of Avraham.
The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbi 41) gives another explanation of the word Ivri. “Rabbi Yehuda says that all the world was on one side, and Avraham was on the other.” Avraham was the original iconoclast, he smashed the idols of the entire generation, and was not afraid to show the world that he was different, even if it meant putting his life at risk. He was prepared to live by his beliefs. Therefore G-d instructed him to cross the river, and enter into the Land of Canaan, the geographical distinction symbolising Avraham’s spiritual separation from the rest of the world.
On the other hand, when Terach reached Charan, he gave up the quest for spiritual growth. The Torah tells us that after arriving in Charan, Terach died at the age of 205 years old (11; 32). However, when we calculate his age upon arrival, we find that he didn’t die until long after Avraham had gone to Israel, and become famous as Avraham the Ivri. However the Torah tells us now that he died to write him out of the story. He failed to reach Israel, and cross the river, even though he recognised the importance of Israel and the symbolic meaning in going to the other side. Therefore he no longer has a part to play in the history and spiritual development of the Jewish nation. Furthermore, rather than dedicate himself to the goal of making G-d known in the world, Terach opted for the comfortable life in Charan. Because of this, the Torah not only considers him a failure, but also classes him as wicked. Rashi’s commentary to that verse states, “The verse calls him dead, for the wicked even during their lifetime are called ‘dead’, and the righteous even after their death are called ‘living’”.
Though it may seem that both Terach and Avraham set out on similar goals, only Avraham had the dedication and perseverance to realise that goal, and make G-d’s presence felt in the world. Terach knew what should be done, but failed to achieve it, and chose the easier option. Thus Jewish history leaves him on the sidelines, and brands him an idolater. Though he gave up worshipping idols made of wood or stone, he became subservient to that greater false god of personal comfort and security.
Yet even from G-d’s instruction to Avram we see that this is not the case. “Go … from your father’s house...”. G-d explains to Avram that he is not to continue in his father’s path, but to make a new beginning, devoid of his past. Similarly, when Joshua gives his farewell address to the nation, he compares Avraham’s actions with those of Terach. “Your forefathers - Terach, the father of Avraham and the father of Nachor - always dwelt beyond the [Euphrates] river and they served other gods.” (24; 2). Avraham, the founding father of the nation, and the first to embrace monotheism, is contrasted with his father Terach who was still an idolater. Thus, rather than considering Terach meritorious for setting out for the Land of Israel, he has become the epitome of an idolater for his failure to reach that goal. In fact, it seems that Terach’s main failing was his inability to cross the river.
Avraham is described (Genesis 14; 13) as ‘Ivri’ (‘Hebrew’ lit. ‘from the other side’) because he came from the other side of the river. It seems that crossing the Euphrates river and entering into Israel is the crucial distinction between Avraham and Terach, between monotheistic service of G-d andidolatrous worship of alien gods. The Midrash highlights the difference in even starker terms: “I shall give to you and your descendants after you the land where you dwell, all the land of Canaan … and I will be for them as G-d” (17; 8). Rabbi Yudan said, if they enter the Land of Israel they accept G-d’s divinity, and if not they do not accept it.” How can such a simple journey make such a difference? Furthermore, Avraham was commanded by G-d to enter Israel; perhaps if Terach had received such an invitation he could have become the founder of our faith in place of Avraham.
The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbi 41) gives another explanation of the word Ivri. “Rabbi Yehuda says that all the world was on one side, and Avraham was on the other.” Avraham was the original iconoclast, he smashed the idols of the entire generation, and was not afraid to show the world that he was different, even if it meant putting his life at risk. He was prepared to live by his beliefs. Therefore G-d instructed him to cross the river, and enter into the Land of Canaan, the geographical distinction symbolising Avraham’s spiritual separation from the rest of the world.
On the other hand, when Terach reached Charan, he gave up the quest for spiritual growth. The Torah tells us that after arriving in Charan, Terach died at the age of 205 years old (11; 32). However, when we calculate his age upon arrival, we find that he didn’t die until long after Avraham had gone to Israel, and become famous as Avraham the Ivri. However the Torah tells us now that he died to write him out of the story. He failed to reach Israel, and cross the river, even though he recognised the importance of Israel and the symbolic meaning in going to the other side. Therefore he no longer has a part to play in the history and spiritual development of the Jewish nation. Furthermore, rather than dedicate himself to the goal of making G-d known in the world, Terach opted for the comfortable life in Charan. Because of this, the Torah not only considers him a failure, but also classes him as wicked. Rashi’s commentary to that verse states, “The verse calls him dead, for the wicked even during their lifetime are called ‘dead’, and the righteous even after their death are called ‘living’”.
Though it may seem that both Terach and Avraham set out on similar goals, only Avraham had the dedication and perseverance to realise that goal, and make G-d’s presence felt in the world. Terach knew what should be done, but failed to achieve it, and chose the easier option. Thus Jewish history leaves him on the sidelines, and brands him an idolater. Though he gave up worshipping idols made of wood or stone, he became subservient to that greater false god of personal comfort and security.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Parshat Noach
When G-d commanded Noach to build the ark, He specified the dimensions of the ark precisely. It is clear from the size of the ark that there is no way that all the animals and their food could have fitted into it under normal circumstances. Either it was a TARDIS (which is much bigger on the inside than on the outside), or else G-d miraculously enabled all the people and animals to fit inside a space that would not otherwise have been large enough for them. There are two principles which explain why G-d would put Noach to the trouble of building an ark if it would take a miracle to save him and the animals anyway. Firstly a person may rely on miracles, but must do whatever they are able, and only then can they ask G-d for help. Secondly, G-d always tries to minimise obvious miracles to allow for free choice. In addition, in the case of Noach, G-d wanted him to spend 120 years building the ark so that the people of the generation would realise that the flood was imminent, and have the opportunity to repent. This explains why G-d did not save Noach and the animals in a simpler way. The question remains however, that if the ark is only a decoy, to hide the miracle, why does the Torah bother to tell us the dimensions. What difference would it make whether it was 300 cubits long, or only 299?
There is clearly some deeper significance to the dimensions of the ark. Rabbi Yonasan Eibschitz quotes the Arizal who states that these specifications correspond to the Tetragammaton name of G-d (Yud, Heh - Vav, Heh). Rabbi Eibschitz explains that the width of the ark is 50 cubits, which is ten (yud) times five (heh). The height is 30 cubits which is six (vav) times five (heh). This four letter name of G-d refers to His attribute of mercy, so it is fitting that the ark, which was built to ensure the continuation of the human race should be based on this name.
The only other place where the Torah gives us such specific building plans is in the building of the Mishkan, (tabernacle), where each item is described in detail. It would appear therefore that there is some connection between the Mishkan and Noach’s ark. There are many similarities between the ark and the Mishkan. Both were three tiered - the ark had an upper deck for humans, the second for the animals, and the lower deck for the refuse. The tabernacle also had three different levels of sanctity, the Holy of Holies, containing the ark* of the covenant with the stone tablets, the Holy section with the menorah, table and golden altar, and the outer courtyard which had the earthen altar.
The plans for the Mishkan were given to Moshe on Yom Kippur, after his final forty days on Mount Sinai. The forty days obviously corresponds to the forty days and nights that the rain fell at the beginning of the flood. Just as Noach’s ark was bigger on the inside than on the outside, so too the Mishkan, the dimensions of the Holy of Holies were not big enough to contain the ark which was within it. Similarly, no matter how many people came to the Temple there was always room for them, and though they were packed in standing on Yom Kippur, when it came time to bow down everyone had enough space to prostrate themselves on the ground. Finally, Noach spent 120 years constructing the ark, which was the age of Moshe, who was ultimately responsible for the construction of the Mishkan, at the time of his death.
However, conceptually the ark and the Mishkan appear to be opposites. The ark saved those who were within from destruction outside, whereas the Mishkan destroyed those who entered, but sustained the entire outside world. Noach and his family were saved by remaining in the ark, so that Noach’s ark was the point of interaction with G-d, but that the Divine Presence was not discernible outside the ark. In contrast, the Mishkan was the point of interaction with G-d, but through the Mishkan G-d’s Presence was felt throughout the world. The most intense point of interaction was the Holy of Holies, where nobody was permitted to enter, with the exception of the High Priest on one day of the year.
The first High Priest in the Mishkan was Aharon, who is associated with the kabbalistic concept of Chen. Translated as ‘grace’ this is a difficult concept to explain, but is typified by the Mishna which describes Aharon as one who ‘loves peace and pursues peace, loves people and brings them closer to Torah’ (Pirkei Avot 1: 8). Aharon was constantly reaching out to others, and actively pursuing peace. Thus he was the most appropriate person to dwell within the confines of the Mishkan, which was ultimately the place of G-d’s Presence reaching out to the world.
Noach is also associated with Chen, as the last verse in last week’s Torah reading states “And Noach found Chen in G-d’s eyes”. However Noach is the opposite of reaching out to others, his main fault was that he did not pray for the other people of his generation. Therefore his name is the letters of the word Chen inverted. So too his ark was closed off from the rest of the world, and no one else could enjoy the interaction with the Divine.
*The Hebrew word for Noach’s ark is teva but the word for the ark of the covenant is aron, so we cannot cite this as another similarity.
There is clearly some deeper significance to the dimensions of the ark. Rabbi Yonasan Eibschitz quotes the Arizal who states that these specifications correspond to the Tetragammaton name of G-d (Yud, Heh - Vav, Heh). Rabbi Eibschitz explains that the width of the ark is 50 cubits, which is ten (yud) times five (heh). The height is 30 cubits which is six (vav) times five (heh). This four letter name of G-d refers to His attribute of mercy, so it is fitting that the ark, which was built to ensure the continuation of the human race should be based on this name.
The only other place where the Torah gives us such specific building plans is in the building of the Mishkan, (tabernacle), where each item is described in detail. It would appear therefore that there is some connection between the Mishkan and Noach’s ark. There are many similarities between the ark and the Mishkan. Both were three tiered - the ark had an upper deck for humans, the second for the animals, and the lower deck for the refuse. The tabernacle also had three different levels of sanctity, the Holy of Holies, containing the ark* of the covenant with the stone tablets, the Holy section with the menorah, table and golden altar, and the outer courtyard which had the earthen altar.
The plans for the Mishkan were given to Moshe on Yom Kippur, after his final forty days on Mount Sinai. The forty days obviously corresponds to the forty days and nights that the rain fell at the beginning of the flood. Just as Noach’s ark was bigger on the inside than on the outside, so too the Mishkan, the dimensions of the Holy of Holies were not big enough to contain the ark which was within it. Similarly, no matter how many people came to the Temple there was always room for them, and though they were packed in standing on Yom Kippur, when it came time to bow down everyone had enough space to prostrate themselves on the ground. Finally, Noach spent 120 years constructing the ark, which was the age of Moshe, who was ultimately responsible for the construction of the Mishkan, at the time of his death.
However, conceptually the ark and the Mishkan appear to be opposites. The ark saved those who were within from destruction outside, whereas the Mishkan destroyed those who entered, but sustained the entire outside world. Noach and his family were saved by remaining in the ark, so that Noach’s ark was the point of interaction with G-d, but that the Divine Presence was not discernible outside the ark. In contrast, the Mishkan was the point of interaction with G-d, but through the Mishkan G-d’s Presence was felt throughout the world. The most intense point of interaction was the Holy of Holies, where nobody was permitted to enter, with the exception of the High Priest on one day of the year.
The first High Priest in the Mishkan was Aharon, who is associated with the kabbalistic concept of Chen. Translated as ‘grace’ this is a difficult concept to explain, but is typified by the Mishna which describes Aharon as one who ‘loves peace and pursues peace, loves people and brings them closer to Torah’ (Pirkei Avot 1: 8). Aharon was constantly reaching out to others, and actively pursuing peace. Thus he was the most appropriate person to dwell within the confines of the Mishkan, which was ultimately the place of G-d’s Presence reaching out to the world.
Noach is also associated with Chen, as the last verse in last week’s Torah reading states “And Noach found Chen in G-d’s eyes”. However Noach is the opposite of reaching out to others, his main fault was that he did not pray for the other people of his generation. Therefore his name is the letters of the word Chen inverted. So too his ark was closed off from the rest of the world, and no one else could enjoy the interaction with the Divine.
*The Hebrew word for Noach’s ark is teva but the word for the ark of the covenant is aron, so we cannot cite this as another similarity.
Parshat Noach
“Noach, the man of the earth...” (Genesis 9; 20). Ramban explains that the description “man of ...” denotes a complete dedication to that thing, and a separation from anything else. As soon as he left the Ark Noach immediately set about sowing and planting the desolate world that he found. He devoted himself entirely to the earth. Similarly, Moshe was described as “man of G-d” (Deuteronomy 33; 1), signifying his complete devotion and total dedication to G-d.
In the very beginning of our portion Noach is also described as a man, but a ‘righteous man’ (6; 9). According to the Ramban’s definition this means that he dedicated himself to righteousness, and separated himself from anything else. Noach transforms from the epitome of righteousness, to a farmer, concerned not with righteousness, but with the earth. In the same verse that Noach is described as being a ‘man of the earth’ the Torah also shows us his descent from his level of sanctity. “vayachel Noach”, “Noach debased himself” (9; 20).
One could mistakenly assume that it was Noach’s concern with the earth that caused him to lose his righteousness. We assume that someone designated by G-d as ‘righteous’ must spend their time removed from worldly pursuits, engaging with the spiritual. Yet from his birth Noach had been recognised as someone able to work the earth, and transform it like nobody before him. He had a special relationship with the earth. Since the time of Cain nobody had been able to till the ground, yet during Noach’s lifetime the curse of the ground disappeared. Noach is also credited with the invention of the plough allowing people once again to work the ground (Midrash Tanchuma Bereishis 11). In fact Noach was named for his relationship with the earth, “And he called his name Noach saying, ‘This one will bring us rest from our work and from the toil of our hands, from the ground which G-d has cursed’.” Lamech, Noach’s father, recognised his potential to work and develop the ground, and remove its curse.
His relationship with the ground was actually the source of Noach’s righteousness, and in that merit he was chosen to survive the flood. Rather than being removed from the physical world, Noach dedicated himself to working the soil. However, his sole intention in so doing was to bring himself closer to G-d. Therefore after the flood, Noach simply continued with that work which he knew best, tilling the soil, and sowing and planting. He even found support for his actions in G-d’s commands to him. Since (according to Midrashim) G-d had told Noach to take saplings and seeds with him into the Ark, he concluded that he should plant them when he left the Ark a year later.
Rashi explains that Noach’s sin was not in planting, but in what he chose to plant first. Of all the species which he had with him in the Ark, he began by planting grapevines, with the disastrous results mentioned in the continuation of the story. This shows the importance of beginnings. Noach lost his exalted status only because he made the wrong beginning when he emerged from the Ark. Yet Judaism sees nothing intrinsically wrong with wine and grapes - at every Jewish ceremony we mark the transition from holy to mundane or from mundane to holy, with a blessing over wine. Thus we begin Shabbat with Kiddush on wine, and end it with Havdalah on wine. We use wine at a wedding to signify the higher spiritual level of a couple than two individuals, and we use wine at a circumcision to show the higher sanctity of a child who has entered the covenant with G-d. But before Noach became drunk the Torah already saw that he was no longer ‘a righteous man’, but ‘a man of the earth’.
Noach refused to leave the Ark without a Divine command to do so (8; 15-17). “Every living being that is with you … take them out.” In the Torah the Hebrew word ‘take them out’ (hotzei) is read as ‘order them out’ (ha’ytzei), meaning that if the animals refused to leave the Ark voluntarily, Noach and his family should forcibly remove them. Perhaps this reluctance to leave the Ark was also felt by Noach. Therefore G-d subtly told him that there was not an option to remain in the Ark. Why would Noach not want to leave the Ark? Surely a whole year separated from his beloved earth would have been enough for him?
“G-d said to Noach; ‘The end of all flesh has come before Me … and behold I am about to destroy them with the earth (es ha’aretz)’” (6; 13). Rashi explains that not only the people and animals, but even the upper three tefachim of earth were destroyed during the flood. Three tefachim is the depth of a plough, and we can only surmise that the corruption of humanity had even penetrated the earth as they were working it. When Noach emerged from the Ark he realised that because of his invention of the plough, he had indirectly caused the earth to be even more desolate than it should have been. Had he not invented the plough, people would have been unable to work the ground, and it would have been spared destruction. His beloved earth was now ruined because of him.
Perhaps this is why Noach was reluctant to leave the Ark, and why he began the new world by planting vines and becoming drunk. His greatest achievements, the plough and removing the curse from the ground seemed to him to have caused only destruction. Despite receiving Divine sanction for his invention, in his depression he failed to realise their value. He reasoned that it would be better for the world if he were drunk, and unable to contribute any more destructive inventions to the world. This depression caused him to temporarily lose sight of G-d, and become only ‘a man of the earth’.
In the very beginning of our portion Noach is also described as a man, but a ‘righteous man’ (6; 9). According to the Ramban’s definition this means that he dedicated himself to righteousness, and separated himself from anything else. Noach transforms from the epitome of righteousness, to a farmer, concerned not with righteousness, but with the earth. In the same verse that Noach is described as being a ‘man of the earth’ the Torah also shows us his descent from his level of sanctity. “vayachel Noach”, “Noach debased himself” (9; 20).
One could mistakenly assume that it was Noach’s concern with the earth that caused him to lose his righteousness. We assume that someone designated by G-d as ‘righteous’ must spend their time removed from worldly pursuits, engaging with the spiritual. Yet from his birth Noach had been recognised as someone able to work the earth, and transform it like nobody before him. He had a special relationship with the earth. Since the time of Cain nobody had been able to till the ground, yet during Noach’s lifetime the curse of the ground disappeared. Noach is also credited with the invention of the plough allowing people once again to work the ground (Midrash Tanchuma Bereishis 11). In fact Noach was named for his relationship with the earth, “And he called his name Noach saying, ‘This one will bring us rest from our work and from the toil of our hands, from the ground which G-d has cursed’.” Lamech, Noach’s father, recognised his potential to work and develop the ground, and remove its curse.
His relationship with the ground was actually the source of Noach’s righteousness, and in that merit he was chosen to survive the flood. Rather than being removed from the physical world, Noach dedicated himself to working the soil. However, his sole intention in so doing was to bring himself closer to G-d. Therefore after the flood, Noach simply continued with that work which he knew best, tilling the soil, and sowing and planting. He even found support for his actions in G-d’s commands to him. Since (according to Midrashim) G-d had told Noach to take saplings and seeds with him into the Ark, he concluded that he should plant them when he left the Ark a year later.
Rashi explains that Noach’s sin was not in planting, but in what he chose to plant first. Of all the species which he had with him in the Ark, he began by planting grapevines, with the disastrous results mentioned in the continuation of the story. This shows the importance of beginnings. Noach lost his exalted status only because he made the wrong beginning when he emerged from the Ark. Yet Judaism sees nothing intrinsically wrong with wine and grapes - at every Jewish ceremony we mark the transition from holy to mundane or from mundane to holy, with a blessing over wine. Thus we begin Shabbat with Kiddush on wine, and end it with Havdalah on wine. We use wine at a wedding to signify the higher spiritual level of a couple than two individuals, and we use wine at a circumcision to show the higher sanctity of a child who has entered the covenant with G-d. But before Noach became drunk the Torah already saw that he was no longer ‘a righteous man’, but ‘a man of the earth’.
Noach refused to leave the Ark without a Divine command to do so (8; 15-17). “Every living being that is with you … take them out.” In the Torah the Hebrew word ‘take them out’ (hotzei) is read as ‘order them out’ (ha’ytzei), meaning that if the animals refused to leave the Ark voluntarily, Noach and his family should forcibly remove them. Perhaps this reluctance to leave the Ark was also felt by Noach. Therefore G-d subtly told him that there was not an option to remain in the Ark. Why would Noach not want to leave the Ark? Surely a whole year separated from his beloved earth would have been enough for him?
“G-d said to Noach; ‘The end of all flesh has come before Me … and behold I am about to destroy them with the earth (es ha’aretz)’” (6; 13). Rashi explains that not only the people and animals, but even the upper three tefachim of earth were destroyed during the flood. Three tefachim is the depth of a plough, and we can only surmise that the corruption of humanity had even penetrated the earth as they were working it. When Noach emerged from the Ark he realised that because of his invention of the plough, he had indirectly caused the earth to be even more desolate than it should have been. Had he not invented the plough, people would have been unable to work the ground, and it would have been spared destruction. His beloved earth was now ruined because of him.
Perhaps this is why Noach was reluctant to leave the Ark, and why he began the new world by planting vines and becoming drunk. His greatest achievements, the plough and removing the curse from the ground seemed to him to have caused only destruction. Despite receiving Divine sanction for his invention, in his depression he failed to realise their value. He reasoned that it would be better for the world if he were drunk, and unable to contribute any more destructive inventions to the world. This depression caused him to temporarily lose sight of G-d, and become only ‘a man of the earth’.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Parshas Bereishis II
In story of Cain and Abel we tend view Cain as simply a big bully, and Abel as the righteous innocent. However a closer look at the text shows a different aspect to each of them. “It came to pass in the process of time that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering to the L-rd. And Abel also brought from the firstlings of his flock...” (Genesis IV; 3). It was Cain who first thought to bring a sacrifice. It was not as generous as his brother’s, which is why G-d turned to Abel’s offering and not Cain’s. However, the Torah gives the impression that had Cain not brought his offering, Abel would not have taken the initiative. Furthermore, though nowadays we find it hard to understand the purpose or benefit of sacrifices, at that time it was the most appropriate way to strengthen a relationship with G-d. Cain was searching for a path to spiritual growth. Additionally. the Ramban writes that both Cain and Abel understood the deep inner meanings and secrets of the sacrifices. Certainly both of them were on a tremendously high spiritual level, to such a degree that G-d spoke directly to Cain, both before and after he killed his brother.
“And it was when they were in the field, that Cain said to Abel his brother...” (v. 8). The Torah fails to tell us what Cain said to his brother before killing him. Targum Yonasan (a translation/ commentary on the Torah from the Mishnaic period) fills in the missing dialogue: “Cain answered and said to Abel, ‘There is no judgement, and there is no judge. There is no World-to-Come, and there is no one to give reward to the righteous, nor to punish the wicked’.” How could Cain have gone from such a high level, where he was able to fathom the mysteries of creation and of the sacrifices, and spoke to G-d as a prophet, to denying G-d’s very existence, and Divine purpose to the world? This seems to contradict the Talmudic dictum (Shabbat 105b) that the Evil Inclination works gradually. “Today it says ‘do this’, tomorrow ‘do that’, until eventually it persuades a person to commit idolatry”. Unfortunately we can see how true this is. Yet this is a process which takes time. How could Cain fall into the trap of atheism in an instant?
Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz explains based on this text the dangers of depression and anger. When a person is thinking rationally, the Evil Inclination can only lead them one step at a time. It knows that the suggestion of idolatry would be rejected out of hand. However, when a person is in a crisis situation they react instinctively, not logically. Then the Inclination can attack them and drive them to extreme behaviour. The Torah tells us that after G-d turned to Abel’s offering that “Cain was very angry and his countenance fell”. This anger and depression caused him to lose control of his rational faculties and behave in a way which would otherwise have been totally out of character for him.
This is what the Talmud (Pesachim 66b) means when it tell us that anyone who gets angry is as if they have worshipped idols. This is not merely a metaphor, showing the negativity of anger, but the reality. Once a person becomes consumed with anger there is no limit to the spiritual depths to which they can fall, even to the extent of idolatry.
Similarly, the Rabbis tell us that depression is one of the most destructive traits. King Solomon tells us in Song of Songs that there is a time to rejoice and a time to be sad, however, there is never a time when depression is the appropriate response. We are to express sadness or happiness based on the events as we perceive them in this world, but we know that G-d is the True Judge, and that in the World of Truth everything is ultimately for the best. This is why the opening of the funeral service is Tziduk HaDin, proclaiming the justness of G-d, and the recognition that this tragedy is part of the greater plan. Depression causes a person to deny the greater good, and fail to see any purpose in life.
Certainly we all have ‘ups’ and ‘downs’ from time to time, and once in an emotional slump it is often difficult to get out of it. However we must always know that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Because Cain failed to realise that there was a larger picture, though he spoke to G-d directly he thought that there was no justice in the world, and through his depression came to fratricide. Had he been able to view the situation objectively he would have understood that G-d was teaching him how to come to a closer relationship with the Divine, and instructing him on the path to spiritual perfection.
“And it was when they were in the field, that Cain said to Abel his brother...” (v. 8). The Torah fails to tell us what Cain said to his brother before killing him. Targum Yonasan (a translation/ commentary on the Torah from the Mishnaic period) fills in the missing dialogue: “Cain answered and said to Abel, ‘There is no judgement, and there is no judge. There is no World-to-Come, and there is no one to give reward to the righteous, nor to punish the wicked’.” How could Cain have gone from such a high level, where he was able to fathom the mysteries of creation and of the sacrifices, and spoke to G-d as a prophet, to denying G-d’s very existence, and Divine purpose to the world? This seems to contradict the Talmudic dictum (Shabbat 105b) that the Evil Inclination works gradually. “Today it says ‘do this’, tomorrow ‘do that’, until eventually it persuades a person to commit idolatry”. Unfortunately we can see how true this is. Yet this is a process which takes time. How could Cain fall into the trap of atheism in an instant?
Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz explains based on this text the dangers of depression and anger. When a person is thinking rationally, the Evil Inclination can only lead them one step at a time. It knows that the suggestion of idolatry would be rejected out of hand. However, when a person is in a crisis situation they react instinctively, not logically. Then the Inclination can attack them and drive them to extreme behaviour. The Torah tells us that after G-d turned to Abel’s offering that “Cain was very angry and his countenance fell”. This anger and depression caused him to lose control of his rational faculties and behave in a way which would otherwise have been totally out of character for him.
This is what the Talmud (Pesachim 66b) means when it tell us that anyone who gets angry is as if they have worshipped idols. This is not merely a metaphor, showing the negativity of anger, but the reality. Once a person becomes consumed with anger there is no limit to the spiritual depths to which they can fall, even to the extent of idolatry.
Similarly, the Rabbis tell us that depression is one of the most destructive traits. King Solomon tells us in Song of Songs that there is a time to rejoice and a time to be sad, however, there is never a time when depression is the appropriate response. We are to express sadness or happiness based on the events as we perceive them in this world, but we know that G-d is the True Judge, and that in the World of Truth everything is ultimately for the best. This is why the opening of the funeral service is Tziduk HaDin, proclaiming the justness of G-d, and the recognition that this tragedy is part of the greater plan. Depression causes a person to deny the greater good, and fail to see any purpose in life.
Certainly we all have ‘ups’ and ‘downs’ from time to time, and once in an emotional slump it is often difficult to get out of it. However we must always know that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Because Cain failed to realise that there was a larger picture, though he spoke to G-d directly he thought that there was no justice in the world, and through his depression came to fratricide. Had he been able to view the situation objectively he would have understood that G-d was teaching him how to come to a closer relationship with the Divine, and instructing him on the path to spiritual perfection.
Parshat Bereishis
At the end of our Torah portion there is a list of the ten generations from Adam to Noach. Anyone studying the portion would usually skim read this part, as it is repetitive, and doesn’t contain anything interesting, except to help construct a timeline of Jewish history. There is a similar section at the end of next week’s portion, Noach, which again simply lists the generations from Noach to Avraham. It seems that even the Mishna considers these sections unimportant parts of the Torah, as it states, “From Adam to Noach there were ten generations, to show the extent of G-d’s patience...” (Avot 5; 2).
However, if we examine the two lists of names, we find an important difference between them. In this week’s list we are told the age of each person when they had their first son, the remaining number of years of their life, and then the total number of years they lived, “and he died”. In contrast the list at the end of Noach appears to be more sensible, and only gives each person’s age when they had their first son, and their total number of years. Why does our portion bother to give us the total number of years, when this total can be calculated by simply adding together the number of years before and after the first son was born?
There is a question that I am often asked, ‘How could people live so long in those days?’ Certainly we are puzzled by the average antediluvian life expectancy which seems to be in the high 800s. There are several answers given (e.g. Ramban to Genesis 5; 1), however the strangest answer is given by the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim (2; 47). He states “As for the precise statements made by the texts of the Torah regarding the length of life of certain individuals, I say that only that individual who is mentioned lived so long a life, whereas the other men lived lives that had the natural and usual duration....” Why should G-d miraculously cause a single individual in each generation to live ten times longer than his contemporaries?
At the end of our portion G-d despairs of humanity and states, “I will blot out man whom I created from the face of the ground - from man to animal, to creeping things, and to birds of the sky, for I have reconsidered making them” (6; 7). Rashi (ibid.) explains why the animals were wiped out “Everything was created for mankind, and since mankind was being wiped out, there was no need for the animals”. Before the flood animals were just an adjunct to humanity, and had no significance or merit on their own. Yet by the end of the flood we find, “G-d remembered Noach and all the beasts and all the animals that were with him in the ark...” (8; 1). G-d ‘recreated’ the world both for Noach and the animals. From this point on animals seem to have an intrinsic value which they lacked in the original creation.
Rav Matis Weinberg (Frameworks I) explains that there was a fundamental change between the purpose of mankind before the flood and after. Originally each person was the totality of creation. The Midrash (Kohelet Rabba 7; 13) explains “When G-d created Adam he took him and showed him all the trees of the garden, and said to him, “Look at how nice they are. And everything that I created, I created for you. Take care not to sin, so that you do not destroy the world”. Usually this is understood as the earliest environmental protection statement. However, we can also view it in light of what happened at the time of the flood. Everything was only created for the use of mankind, therefore when people sin the whole world is destroyed.
It is not only the animals who are secondary to people before the flood, but even the human population of the world is only the backdrop for the actions of those ten people mentioned in the list of generations. This is perhaps the key to understanding the Rambam’s comment that everyone else lived lives of normal duration. Those ten generations were the entire focus of creation, and they had to justify their existence through their actions, otherwise the world could not continue to exist. Therefore the Torah lists the total number of years that they lived, but stresses that ‘they died’, - none of them were able to justify their existence through their actions.
After the flood however, human beings were no longer the sole purpose of creation, but one more creature amongst many. Certainly people are endowed with intellect, and free-choice which separates them from the animals, but ultimately they are still only one species among many. This is why G-d remembered not only Noach, but the animals who were with him. Similarly in the book of Jonah we read “G-d said, ... ‘shall I not take pity on Ninveh the great city, in which there are more than 120,000 people who do not know their right hand from their left, and many animals as well?” (4; 11).
Richard Dawkin wrote a book called ‘The Selfish Gene’ in which he shows that the goal of life and evolution is solely to ensure the continuation of the genes of each species. Each species is striving for eternal life through the continuation of their genetic structure, and each individual is only another step in the chain of life. We find a less extreme version of this statement in the genealogies from Noach to Avraham, that the total life of each individual is not as important as the fact that they had children to continue the human race. Before the flood everything was dependent upon each individual, afterwards people become valuable through population numbers even if as individuals they fail to live up to their full potential. We see this difference most clearly in the different reactions that Noach and Avraham have when they are told of imminent mass destruction. Noach recognises the futility of praying to save people who have failed to justify their individual existence, but Avraham immediately begins bargaining for the people of Sodom according to the number of righteous people.
The postdeluvian view of humanity does not mean that individuals cannot justify their existence through their actions, or diminish the importance of each individual, but it means that even if someone fails to fulfil their potential their merit can come from the future generations. Conversely each of us can bring merit through our actions to all our progenitors.
However, if we examine the two lists of names, we find an important difference between them. In this week’s list we are told the age of each person when they had their first son, the remaining number of years of their life, and then the total number of years they lived, “and he died”. In contrast the list at the end of Noach appears to be more sensible, and only gives each person’s age when they had their first son, and their total number of years. Why does our portion bother to give us the total number of years, when this total can be calculated by simply adding together the number of years before and after the first son was born?
There is a question that I am often asked, ‘How could people live so long in those days?’ Certainly we are puzzled by the average antediluvian life expectancy which seems to be in the high 800s. There are several answers given (e.g. Ramban to Genesis 5; 1), however the strangest answer is given by the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim (2; 47). He states “As for the precise statements made by the texts of the Torah regarding the length of life of certain individuals, I say that only that individual who is mentioned lived so long a life, whereas the other men lived lives that had the natural and usual duration....” Why should G-d miraculously cause a single individual in each generation to live ten times longer than his contemporaries?
At the end of our portion G-d despairs of humanity and states, “I will blot out man whom I created from the face of the ground - from man to animal, to creeping things, and to birds of the sky, for I have reconsidered making them” (6; 7). Rashi (ibid.) explains why the animals were wiped out “Everything was created for mankind, and since mankind was being wiped out, there was no need for the animals”. Before the flood animals were just an adjunct to humanity, and had no significance or merit on their own. Yet by the end of the flood we find, “G-d remembered Noach and all the beasts and all the animals that were with him in the ark...” (8; 1). G-d ‘recreated’ the world both for Noach and the animals. From this point on animals seem to have an intrinsic value which they lacked in the original creation.
Rav Matis Weinberg (Frameworks I) explains that there was a fundamental change between the purpose of mankind before the flood and after. Originally each person was the totality of creation. The Midrash (Kohelet Rabba 7; 13) explains “When G-d created Adam he took him and showed him all the trees of the garden, and said to him, “Look at how nice they are. And everything that I created, I created for you. Take care not to sin, so that you do not destroy the world”. Usually this is understood as the earliest environmental protection statement. However, we can also view it in light of what happened at the time of the flood. Everything was only created for the use of mankind, therefore when people sin the whole world is destroyed.
It is not only the animals who are secondary to people before the flood, but even the human population of the world is only the backdrop for the actions of those ten people mentioned in the list of generations. This is perhaps the key to understanding the Rambam’s comment that everyone else lived lives of normal duration. Those ten generations were the entire focus of creation, and they had to justify their existence through their actions, otherwise the world could not continue to exist. Therefore the Torah lists the total number of years that they lived, but stresses that ‘they died’, - none of them were able to justify their existence through their actions.
After the flood however, human beings were no longer the sole purpose of creation, but one more creature amongst many. Certainly people are endowed with intellect, and free-choice which separates them from the animals, but ultimately they are still only one species among many. This is why G-d remembered not only Noach, but the animals who were with him. Similarly in the book of Jonah we read “G-d said, ... ‘shall I not take pity on Ninveh the great city, in which there are more than 120,000 people who do not know their right hand from their left, and many animals as well?” (4; 11).
Richard Dawkin wrote a book called ‘The Selfish Gene’ in which he shows that the goal of life and evolution is solely to ensure the continuation of the genes of each species. Each species is striving for eternal life through the continuation of their genetic structure, and each individual is only another step in the chain of life. We find a less extreme version of this statement in the genealogies from Noach to Avraham, that the total life of each individual is not as important as the fact that they had children to continue the human race. Before the flood everything was dependent upon each individual, afterwards people become valuable through population numbers even if as individuals they fail to live up to their full potential. We see this difference most clearly in the different reactions that Noach and Avraham have when they are told of imminent mass destruction. Noach recognises the futility of praying to save people who have failed to justify their individual existence, but Avraham immediately begins bargaining for the people of Sodom according to the number of righteous people.
The postdeluvian view of humanity does not mean that individuals cannot justify their existence through their actions, or diminish the importance of each individual, but it means that even if someone fails to fulfil their potential their merit can come from the future generations. Conversely each of us can bring merit through our actions to all our progenitors.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Yom Kippur d'var Torah
Teshuva is the main theme of this season. The days from Rosh HaShana until Yom Kippur are known as the “Asseret Yemei HaTeshuva”, “Ten Days of Repentance”, the Intermediate Shabbat is called “Shabbat (Te)Shuva” and the Machzor for Yom Kippur is full of references to Teshuva. What exactly is demanded of us at this time of year, and especially on this day?
We know that during the past year we have not constantly lived up to the standards expected of us by G-d, by our peers, and often even our own standards of right and wrong. Were there no higher power and no absolute values we would have no recourse to forgiveness. If we, or society, set the values by which we should live, then there is no way of undoing any past wrongs. Judaism recognises G-d as the supreme authority of all morality; good and evil are defined as revealed by G-d. Therefore the same Authority that declares something wrong and sinful, can also declare it forgiven. The way to forgiveness is through teshuva.
Teshuva involves change. It means changing our actions, our attitudes and our goals to conform with those set by G-d. However change is very difficult to do. Try folding your arms now. Do you fold right over left or left over right? Now try to do the opposite. It feels awkward and strange. To reverse a simple mannerism is hard, how much more difficult it is to make any lasting change on ourselves through teshuva.
Before it is possible to altar our lives, we must recognise the need for change. The first of the “twelve steps” used in Alcoholics Anonymous and other such groups is “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.” No matter how obvious it is to others, no amount of persuasion can prevent someone from drinking unless they themselves realise that there is something wrong. As long as they continue to delude themselves that they are functioning normally, they will continue their addictive and destructive behaviour. Only after seeing the need for change is change possible.
Some people think that Judaism should change to encompass our lifestyle. This ingenious approach suggests that our actions are never objectively wrong, therefore it must be our religion of the past several thousand years which is at fault. It is obvious that with this attitude it is not possible to do teshuva or to maximise the potential of Yom Kippur. Following this course leads to “lowest common denominator” Judaism, where any action or attitude can and must be justified in order to prevent any guilt feelings of wrongdoing. Instead of a religion of absolutes, where G-d is the object of worship, rewriting the book to suit our personal habits makes Judaism into a security blanket, where G-d must conform to our own self indulgence. This approach is ultimately doomed to failure. After 2500 years of probing, philosophy has finally come to the conclusion that unless revealed by some higher power, no objective standard of good and evil exists. In this century we have seen the failure and downfall of many societies that were once touted as the new utopia. To continue to try and set our own rules is doomed to failure. The first step that we must all take this Yom Kippur is the resolution that change is not only possible, but necessary.
We know that during the past year we have not constantly lived up to the standards expected of us by G-d, by our peers, and often even our own standards of right and wrong. Were there no higher power and no absolute values we would have no recourse to forgiveness. If we, or society, set the values by which we should live, then there is no way of undoing any past wrongs. Judaism recognises G-d as the supreme authority of all morality; good and evil are defined as revealed by G-d. Therefore the same Authority that declares something wrong and sinful, can also declare it forgiven. The way to forgiveness is through teshuva.
Teshuva involves change. It means changing our actions, our attitudes and our goals to conform with those set by G-d. However change is very difficult to do. Try folding your arms now. Do you fold right over left or left over right? Now try to do the opposite. It feels awkward and strange. To reverse a simple mannerism is hard, how much more difficult it is to make any lasting change on ourselves through teshuva.
Before it is possible to altar our lives, we must recognise the need for change. The first of the “twelve steps” used in Alcoholics Anonymous and other such groups is “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.” No matter how obvious it is to others, no amount of persuasion can prevent someone from drinking unless they themselves realise that there is something wrong. As long as they continue to delude themselves that they are functioning normally, they will continue their addictive and destructive behaviour. Only after seeing the need for change is change possible.
Some people think that Judaism should change to encompass our lifestyle. This ingenious approach suggests that our actions are never objectively wrong, therefore it must be our religion of the past several thousand years which is at fault. It is obvious that with this attitude it is not possible to do teshuva or to maximise the potential of Yom Kippur. Following this course leads to “lowest common denominator” Judaism, where any action or attitude can and must be justified in order to prevent any guilt feelings of wrongdoing. Instead of a religion of absolutes, where G-d is the object of worship, rewriting the book to suit our personal habits makes Judaism into a security blanket, where G-d must conform to our own self indulgence. This approach is ultimately doomed to failure. After 2500 years of probing, philosophy has finally come to the conclusion that unless revealed by some higher power, no objective standard of good and evil exists. In this century we have seen the failure and downfall of many societies that were once touted as the new utopia. To continue to try and set our own rules is doomed to failure. The first step that we must all take this Yom Kippur is the resolution that change is not only possible, but necessary.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Parshat Shoftim (Rabbi Sedley)
A KING'S TORAH
This week's Torah reading contains the commandment to appoint a king over Israel. The king is to be not only the economic and military advisor and leader, but also is to set a spiritual and religious example to the nation. The Torah places extra prohibitions on a king, in order that he should not lead the rest of the nation astray. One of those extra commandments is to write himself an second Sefer Torah. The last of the 613 commandments (according to the order in which they appear in the Torah) is the instruction for each person to write themselves a Sefer Torah. As the Sefer HaChinuch states: We are commanded that each person should have a Sefer Torah for themselves. If he is able to write it by himself that is very praiseworthy, and if not he should hire someone to write it on his behalf. This is the meaning of the verse "Now write this song for yourselves, and teach it to the Children of Israel." (Deuteronomy 31; 19).
[Based on the explanation of the Rosh, many contemporary halachacists have written that this commandment is also fulfilled through purchasing Jewish books such as Chumashim and Siddurim. However, anyone who is in a position to write themselves a Sefer Torah could fulfil this commandment in its best form.]
One of the extra laws which applies only to the king is to write himself a Mishne Torah (ibid. (17; 18), which is translated literally as 'a repetition of this Torah'. Amongst the commentators there are three different explanations of this phrase, teaching us three necessary approaches to studying Torah, which we learn from the example that is to be set by the king.
Onkelos (the 5th century Aramaic translation of the Chumash) translates the phrase Mishne Torah as 'Patgeshen Oraita', meaning 'A Torah which is constantly repeated and spoken'. The key to observing the commandments is to constant review the laws, and be immersed in study day and night. This is both in order that none of the laws be forgotten, and more importantly, so that he not lose sight of the goal of Torah observance at any time. This is why the Torah adds the word 'all' (He will read it all the days of his life), which comes to include the nights as well as the days, in fulfilment of the dictum "This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth, and you shall meditate upon it day and night" (Joshua 1; 8).
Rambam (Hilchot Melachim chap. 3; 1) defines the Mitzvah further. He says that if the king already has a Torah which he inherited from his father, that one remains in his treasure house, and he only has to write himself one more Torah. This seems to be allegorically referring to the transmission of Torah, traditions and customs. A king should ideally have a solid foundation in the Torah which he has learnt from his parents, with which he grew up. Once that has become his inheritance, he can place that in the palace, and carry second Torah with him, one which he has written himself. This symbolises his own personal approach to Judaism, building on that which he has learnt from the previous generation. This Torah that he has written, however, is only valid if it is something which he carries with him constantly, and lives by at all times.
Rav Yonasan Eibschitz gives a further interpretation. He says that the two Torahs represent the revealed Torah and the hidden Torah. Wherever the king goes, he should have access to the Halacha and p'shat which are the open meanings of the Torah. However, the hidden secrets of the Torah, the Kabbalah and mysticism of Judaism, should only be studied in the palace, in private. Though actions should primarily follow the Halacha of the revealed Torah, it is important for the king to know that it is all ultimately based on the Kabbalah and other spiritual sources. Though the actions we perform are a key to living in the physical world, they also have a tremendous impact on the spiritual worlds, and have far reaching consequences.
Through total absorption in Torah, through basing anything new on that which has come before, and with an understanding of both hidden and revealed aspects of Torah, the king will be able to act as a role model for the rest of the nation. As the verse concludes (Deuteronomy 17; 19), It shall be with him, and he shall read it all the days of his life, in order that he can learn to fear the L-rd his G-d, to observe all these laws and statutes in order to fulfil them".
This week's Torah reading contains the commandment to appoint a king over Israel. The king is to be not only the economic and military advisor and leader, but also is to set a spiritual and religious example to the nation. The Torah places extra prohibitions on a king, in order that he should not lead the rest of the nation astray. One of those extra commandments is to write himself an second Sefer Torah. The last of the 613 commandments (according to the order in which they appear in the Torah) is the instruction for each person to write themselves a Sefer Torah. As the Sefer HaChinuch states: We are commanded that each person should have a Sefer Torah for themselves. If he is able to write it by himself that is very praiseworthy, and if not he should hire someone to write it on his behalf. This is the meaning of the verse "Now write this song for yourselves, and teach it to the Children of Israel." (Deuteronomy 31; 19).
[Based on the explanation of the Rosh, many contemporary halachacists have written that this commandment is also fulfilled through purchasing Jewish books such as Chumashim and Siddurim. However, anyone who is in a position to write themselves a Sefer Torah could fulfil this commandment in its best form.]
One of the extra laws which applies only to the king is to write himself a Mishne Torah (ibid. (17; 18), which is translated literally as 'a repetition of this Torah'. Amongst the commentators there are three different explanations of this phrase, teaching us three necessary approaches to studying Torah, which we learn from the example that is to be set by the king.
Onkelos (the 5th century Aramaic translation of the Chumash) translates the phrase Mishne Torah as 'Patgeshen Oraita', meaning 'A Torah which is constantly repeated and spoken'. The key to observing the commandments is to constant review the laws, and be immersed in study day and night. This is both in order that none of the laws be forgotten, and more importantly, so that he not lose sight of the goal of Torah observance at any time. This is why the Torah adds the word 'all' (He will read it all the days of his life), which comes to include the nights as well as the days, in fulfilment of the dictum "This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth, and you shall meditate upon it day and night" (Joshua 1; 8).
Rambam (Hilchot Melachim chap. 3; 1) defines the Mitzvah further. He says that if the king already has a Torah which he inherited from his father, that one remains in his treasure house, and he only has to write himself one more Torah. This seems to be allegorically referring to the transmission of Torah, traditions and customs. A king should ideally have a solid foundation in the Torah which he has learnt from his parents, with which he grew up. Once that has become his inheritance, he can place that in the palace, and carry second Torah with him, one which he has written himself. This symbolises his own personal approach to Judaism, building on that which he has learnt from the previous generation. This Torah that he has written, however, is only valid if it is something which he carries with him constantly, and lives by at all times.
Rav Yonasan Eibschitz gives a further interpretation. He says that the two Torahs represent the revealed Torah and the hidden Torah. Wherever the king goes, he should have access to the Halacha and p'shat which are the open meanings of the Torah. However, the hidden secrets of the Torah, the Kabbalah and mysticism of Judaism, should only be studied in the palace, in private. Though actions should primarily follow the Halacha of the revealed Torah, it is important for the king to know that it is all ultimately based on the Kabbalah and other spiritual sources. Though the actions we perform are a key to living in the physical world, they also have a tremendous impact on the spiritual worlds, and have far reaching consequences.
Through total absorption in Torah, through basing anything new on that which has come before, and with an understanding of both hidden and revealed aspects of Torah, the king will be able to act as a role model for the rest of the nation. As the verse concludes (Deuteronomy 17; 19), It shall be with him, and he shall read it all the days of his life, in order that he can learn to fear the L-rd his G-d, to observe all these laws and statutes in order to fulfil them".
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Parshat Ekev (Rabbi Sedley)
"You shall be banished swiftly from the goodly Land that G-d gives you. You shall place these words ..." (Deuteronomy 11; 17 - 18). Rashi (based on Sifri 43) comments on this verse: "Even after you are exiled [from the Land of Israel] you should decorate yourselves with the Mitzvot, put on Tefillin, place a mezuzah on your doorposts etc. in order that they should not be new to you when you return [from your exile]. Similarly the prophet says "Set up signposts for yourselves" (Jeremiah 31; 20)."
The Vilna Gaon points out the apparent contradiction between this Midrash, and a Mishna. The Mishna (Kiddushin (36b)) states: "Any commandment which is dependent on the Land only applies in the Land of Israel, and any that is not dependent on the Land applies both in Israel and outside of Israel, with the exception of the Mitzvot of Orla1 and Kilayim2 [which apply also outside of Israel - Rashi]." The Talmud (ibid. 37a) explains further that the definition of a commandment which is dependent on the Land is one that is not an obligation on the ground, or on things which grow in the ground. Similarly one which is not dependent on the Land is one which is an obligation on the person themselves, such as keeping Shabbat, putting on Tefillin, not worshipping idols etc.
Why does the Midrash need to give the reason for performing the Mitzvot outside of Israel as in order that they should not be new to you when you return? Since this Midrash mentions those Mitzvot like Tefillin and mezuzah which are dependent on the person performing them, but not those which are dependent on the Land, surely the reason for keeping them is that they apply equally outside Israel as in Israel?
The Mishna L'Melech in his book Parshas D'rachim quotes the Rashba, who resolves this question. He explains that the Torah makes several references to the fact that G-d is giving us the Land of Israel in order that we should be able to keep the Torah (e.g. "You shall observe His decrees and His commandments so that you will prolong your days on the Land that G-d gives you..." (Deuteronomy 4; 40)). the Talmud which obligates Mitzvot outside Israel is only referring to such time as the majority of Jews are living in Israel. At such a time leaving Israel is not an exemption from the Mitzvot. However, once the majority of Jews live in exile one may have thought that there is a general exemption from all the Mitzvot, therefore the Midrash teaches us that we are still obligated, so that they should not seem foreign to us when we eventually return to Israel.
Rabbeinu Bachaya resolves this contradiction. He says that the Midrash teaches us that the essential performance of the Mitzvot is only possible in Israel. Even though we are equally obligated to perform the Mitzvot which are not dependent on the Land wherever we live, the effect is not the same as performing them in Israel.
Based on this explanation, we can understand the Talmud in Ketubot (110b): "A person should always try to live in the Land of Israel, even in a city which is mostly non-Jewish, rather than live outside the Land of Israel, even in a city which is mostly Jewish, because someone who dwells in the Land of Israel is like someone who has [a relationship with] G-d, but someone who dwells outside the Land of Israel is like someone who does not have [a relationship with] G-d." Though it is possible to be a good Jew anywhere in the world, and to live in a Jewish city with Jewish schools, restaurants and Synagogues, the value of the Mitzvot, and the connection with G-d is less than in the Land of Israel.
HaK'tav v'HaKabbalah explains the importance of performing Mitzvot outside of Israel, based on the analogy given in the Midrash. The Sifri likens it to a king who grew angry with his wife, and sent her away to her parent's house. The wife's father said to her "Make sure that you wear your jewellery, so that when you return to the palace you will not be unaccustomed to them." Similarly G-d says to the Jews, "You should decorate yourselves with the Mitzvot in order that they should not be new to you when you return." With this analogy the Midrash teaches us that through performing the Mitzvot we show that we have not despaired of returning to the palace, the Land of Israel. Similarly, by continuing to decorate ourselves with Mitzvot we show that our love for G-d has not diminished though we are far from Him at the moment.
The Vilna Gaon points out the apparent contradiction between this Midrash, and a Mishna. The Mishna (Kiddushin (36b)) states: "Any commandment which is dependent on the Land only applies in the Land of Israel, and any that is not dependent on the Land applies both in Israel and outside of Israel, with the exception of the Mitzvot of Orla1 and Kilayim2 [which apply also outside of Israel - Rashi]." The Talmud (ibid. 37a) explains further that the definition of a commandment which is dependent on the Land is one that is not an obligation on the ground, or on things which grow in the ground. Similarly one which is not dependent on the Land is one which is an obligation on the person themselves, such as keeping Shabbat, putting on Tefillin, not worshipping idols etc.
Why does the Midrash need to give the reason for performing the Mitzvot outside of Israel as in order that they should not be new to you when you return? Since this Midrash mentions those Mitzvot like Tefillin and mezuzah which are dependent on the person performing them, but not those which are dependent on the Land, surely the reason for keeping them is that they apply equally outside Israel as in Israel?
The Mishna L'Melech in his book Parshas D'rachim quotes the Rashba, who resolves this question. He explains that the Torah makes several references to the fact that G-d is giving us the Land of Israel in order that we should be able to keep the Torah (e.g. "You shall observe His decrees and His commandments so that you will prolong your days on the Land that G-d gives you..." (Deuteronomy 4; 40)). the Talmud which obligates Mitzvot outside Israel is only referring to such time as the majority of Jews are living in Israel. At such a time leaving Israel is not an exemption from the Mitzvot. However, once the majority of Jews live in exile one may have thought that there is a general exemption from all the Mitzvot, therefore the Midrash teaches us that we are still obligated, so that they should not seem foreign to us when we eventually return to Israel.
Rabbeinu Bachaya resolves this contradiction. He says that the Midrash teaches us that the essential performance of the Mitzvot is only possible in Israel. Even though we are equally obligated to perform the Mitzvot which are not dependent on the Land wherever we live, the effect is not the same as performing them in Israel.
Based on this explanation, we can understand the Talmud in Ketubot (110b): "A person should always try to live in the Land of Israel, even in a city which is mostly non-Jewish, rather than live outside the Land of Israel, even in a city which is mostly Jewish, because someone who dwells in the Land of Israel is like someone who has [a relationship with] G-d, but someone who dwells outside the Land of Israel is like someone who does not have [a relationship with] G-d." Though it is possible to be a good Jew anywhere in the world, and to live in a Jewish city with Jewish schools, restaurants and Synagogues, the value of the Mitzvot, and the connection with G-d is less than in the Land of Israel.
HaK'tav v'HaKabbalah explains the importance of performing Mitzvot outside of Israel, based on the analogy given in the Midrash. The Sifri likens it to a king who grew angry with his wife, and sent her away to her parent's house. The wife's father said to her "Make sure that you wear your jewellery, so that when you return to the palace you will not be unaccustomed to them." Similarly G-d says to the Jews, "You should decorate yourselves with the Mitzvot in order that they should not be new to you when you return." With this analogy the Midrash teaches us that through performing the Mitzvot we show that we have not despaired of returning to the palace, the Land of Israel. Similarly, by continuing to decorate ourselves with Mitzvot we show that our love for G-d has not diminished though we are far from Him at the moment.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Parshas Chukas (Rabbi Sedley)
Love Peace, Love Each Other
* This week's Torah reading contains the death of Aharon, the high priest and the brother of Moshe. The Midrash (Tanna d'vei Eliyahu chap. 12) contrasts the Torah's description of the death of Aharon with the description of the death of Moshe. When Aharon dies the Torah says, " And they wept for Aharon thirty days, the entire house of Israel" (Numbers 20; 29). However at the time of the death of Moshe the Torah says "The Children of Israel wept for Moshe in the plains of Moav for thirty days" (Deuteronomy 34; 8). There was greater mourning for Aharon ("The entire house...") than for Moshe, because Moshe was the judge, the strict lawgiver, who would reprimand the people for their misconduct. However Aharon's approach was to bring the people close to Torah through showing them love and peace. Aharon's love for the people, and his constant quest for peace, is documented in the Mishna (Ethics of the Fathers 1; 12): "Hillel says, Be amongst the disciples of Aharon, love peace, pursue peace, love people and bring them close to Torah".
"And the Canaanite King of Arad heard and he waged war with Israel." (Numbers 21; 1). What did he hear that caused him to fight Israel now? The Talmud (Rosh Hashanah) explains that he heard that Aharon had died. The clouds of Glory which surrounded the camp of the Israelites in the desert came in the merit of Aharon, and therefore after his death they departed. The Canaanite King took this as a signal that permission was given to wage war against Israel. It seems that Aharon himself, and his constant quest for peace, caused the Jews to be protected from their enemies. Without Aharon the people began once again to fight amongst themselves, and they became vulnerable to attack from outside.
The Ateres Mordechai points out a similar episode, where argument caused vulnerability. In Lech Lecha the verse states: "There was a quarrel between the shepherds of Avram and the shepherds of Lot. And the Canaanites were then in the land." What is the significance of the "Canaanites were then in the land?" It seems to be the same idea that we find here in our Parsha. As long as there was peace between the shepherds of Avram and Lot, their unity was a guarantee of protection from external enemies. However once quarrels broke out, there was a cause for worry about the Canaanites being in the land.
This has been the pattern throughout history. Whenever there are quarrels among the Jewish nation, they become vulnerable to attack from external enemies. The 9th of Tammuz (which is coming up next week) was the date that the walls of Jerusalem were breached by the Babylonians in the time of the First Temple (Jeremiah 29; 2). The week after is the 17th of Tammuz, the anniversary of the Roman's breaking through the walls of Jerusalem in the Second Temple period. These tragedies, which led up to the destruction of both Temples, were both caused by disunity amongst the nation.
The destruction of the First Temple was preceded (albeit 262 years before) by the division of the nation into the two kingdoms of Israel and Judah (Kings 1 12). This disunity, and the resulting idolatry, led to the destruction of the Northern Kingdom and the exile of the Ten Tribes. 23 years later the Kingdom of Judah was conquered and the remaining two tribes, together with the remnants of the ten tribes who had fled to Jerusalem, were also exiled.
The Talmud (Gittin 55b ff.) describes the cause of the destruction of the Second Temple: "Because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, Jerusalem was destroyed...". A certain man made a feast, and invited many people, including the leading Rabbis of the generation. However, instead of inviting the man's friend Kamtza, the servant accidentally invited Bar Kamtza, who was hated by the man. Thinking that this was an opening for peace, Bar Kamtza came to the banquet. However when the man saw him there he had him thrown out. No amount of pleading by Bar Kamtza would persuade the man to let him stay, and he was publicly humiliated. Bar Kamtza said to himself, "Since the Sages were present and did not protest against such behaviour, it is obvious that they approve. I will slander them to the emperor". He went to Rome and provoked Nero into launching a military campaign against Jerusalem.
Even when Jerusalem was under siege the people refused to unite. There was a group of people inside Jerusalem called the Biryonim, who vied with the Sages for power. The Sages wanted to negotiate with Rome, but these Biryonim would not let them. In order to rally the people into military conflict they set fire to the food stores, which would have been sufficient for 21 years, and in the ensuing famine many people starved to death. This forced them into battle with the Romans, and led directly to the destruction of the city and the Temple.
The phrase "United we stand, divided we fall" is the lesson that we must learn from this Torah reading, and from history. It is as true today as it has ever been, but it becomes more and more difficult to create harmony and peace amidst the splintering factions of the Jewish nation. Aharon showed us the way, "Love peace and pursue peace. Love people and bring them near to Torah".
* This Torah Treasures is partially based on Rabbi Yissocher Frand's Internet d'var Torah for parshas Chukas 5755
* This week's Torah reading contains the death of Aharon, the high priest and the brother of Moshe. The Midrash (Tanna d'vei Eliyahu chap. 12) contrasts the Torah's description of the death of Aharon with the description of the death of Moshe. When Aharon dies the Torah says, " And they wept for Aharon thirty days, the entire house of Israel" (Numbers 20; 29). However at the time of the death of Moshe the Torah says "The Children of Israel wept for Moshe in the plains of Moav for thirty days" (Deuteronomy 34; 8). There was greater mourning for Aharon ("The entire house...") than for Moshe, because Moshe was the judge, the strict lawgiver, who would reprimand the people for their misconduct. However Aharon's approach was to bring the people close to Torah through showing them love and peace. Aharon's love for the people, and his constant quest for peace, is documented in the Mishna (Ethics of the Fathers 1; 12): "Hillel says, Be amongst the disciples of Aharon, love peace, pursue peace, love people and bring them close to Torah".
"And the Canaanite King of Arad heard and he waged war with Israel." (Numbers 21; 1). What did he hear that caused him to fight Israel now? The Talmud (Rosh Hashanah) explains that he heard that Aharon had died. The clouds of Glory which surrounded the camp of the Israelites in the desert came in the merit of Aharon, and therefore after his death they departed. The Canaanite King took this as a signal that permission was given to wage war against Israel. It seems that Aharon himself, and his constant quest for peace, caused the Jews to be protected from their enemies. Without Aharon the people began once again to fight amongst themselves, and they became vulnerable to attack from outside.
The Ateres Mordechai points out a similar episode, where argument caused vulnerability. In Lech Lecha the verse states: "There was a quarrel between the shepherds of Avram and the shepherds of Lot. And the Canaanites were then in the land." What is the significance of the "Canaanites were then in the land?" It seems to be the same idea that we find here in our Parsha. As long as there was peace between the shepherds of Avram and Lot, their unity was a guarantee of protection from external enemies. However once quarrels broke out, there was a cause for worry about the Canaanites being in the land.
This has been the pattern throughout history. Whenever there are quarrels among the Jewish nation, they become vulnerable to attack from external enemies. The 9th of Tammuz (which is coming up next week) was the date that the walls of Jerusalem were breached by the Babylonians in the time of the First Temple (Jeremiah 29; 2). The week after is the 17th of Tammuz, the anniversary of the Roman's breaking through the walls of Jerusalem in the Second Temple period. These tragedies, which led up to the destruction of both Temples, were both caused by disunity amongst the nation.
The destruction of the First Temple was preceded (albeit 262 years before) by the division of the nation into the two kingdoms of Israel and Judah (Kings 1 12). This disunity, and the resulting idolatry, led to the destruction of the Northern Kingdom and the exile of the Ten Tribes. 23 years later the Kingdom of Judah was conquered and the remaining two tribes, together with the remnants of the ten tribes who had fled to Jerusalem, were also exiled.
The Talmud (Gittin 55b ff.) describes the cause of the destruction of the Second Temple: "Because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, Jerusalem was destroyed...". A certain man made a feast, and invited many people, including the leading Rabbis of the generation. However, instead of inviting the man's friend Kamtza, the servant accidentally invited Bar Kamtza, who was hated by the man. Thinking that this was an opening for peace, Bar Kamtza came to the banquet. However when the man saw him there he had him thrown out. No amount of pleading by Bar Kamtza would persuade the man to let him stay, and he was publicly humiliated. Bar Kamtza said to himself, "Since the Sages were present and did not protest against such behaviour, it is obvious that they approve. I will slander them to the emperor". He went to Rome and provoked Nero into launching a military campaign against Jerusalem.
Even when Jerusalem was under siege the people refused to unite. There was a group of people inside Jerusalem called the Biryonim, who vied with the Sages for power. The Sages wanted to negotiate with Rome, but these Biryonim would not let them. In order to rally the people into military conflict they set fire to the food stores, which would have been sufficient for 21 years, and in the ensuing famine many people starved to death. This forced them into battle with the Romans, and led directly to the destruction of the city and the Temple.
The phrase "United we stand, divided we fall" is the lesson that we must learn from this Torah reading, and from history. It is as true today as it has ever been, but it becomes more and more difficult to create harmony and peace amidst the splintering factions of the Jewish nation. Aharon showed us the way, "Love peace and pursue peace. Love people and bring them near to Torah".
* This Torah Treasures is partially based on Rabbi Yissocher Frand's Internet d'var Torah for parshas Chukas 5755
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