Shemini - Narnia and the Vilna Gaon: On Choosing Literature for our Children

My eleven year old daughter has recently been reading the classic Narnia series by C. S. Lewis. I asked her if she had finished the first book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and, after confirming that she had, I went on to inform her that C. S. Lewis was a Christian theologian, and that the Narnia series is heavily based on Christianity. In particular, I told her that Aslan, the "Lion" of the title, is actually intended to represent Jesus, that his death on the Stone Table is intended to represent the crucifixion of Jesus, and that his return to life is intended to represent the resurrection of Jesus.

Unsurprisingly, my daughter was not pleased to learn these things. In fact, she was somewhat distraught, saying that she didn't want to read a Christian book. While I certainly understood why this bothered her, I told her that the Christian elements were there whether she knew it or nor, and that she was better off knowing they were there than not. In fact, as the conversation developed, I pointed out that all non-Jewish fiction includes problematic elements of non-Jewish thinking, even when they are not explicitly religious. (This is also true for a great deal of "Jewish" fiction, including many of the books published by Orthodox publishers.) On the contrary, the most problematic literature is precisely that literature where the problematic elements are subtle and inconspicuous. When you read a book with an obvious agenda, you instinctively raise your guard and you challenge the assumptions and assertions in the text that endorse that agenda. But when the agenda is not obvious to the casual reader (as in the Narnia series), and even more so when the book truly has no agenda (because the author takes these premises for granted), then our guard is lowered and we are much more likely to accept the ideological, moral, cultural, and religious premises of the author without even realizing that we are being influenced.

This idea is alluded to in a teaching of the Vilna Gaon (פנינים משלחן הגר"א) in connection to the signs of a kosher animal. In Leviticus 11, the Torah tells us that a kosher animal must have two signs, it must have split hooves and it must chew its cud. The Torah then identifies four species that have only one sign, and which are therefore not kosher:

But, of the animals that chew their cud or that have split hooves, you shall not eat the following: the camel, because it chews its cud but does not have split hoves, is unclean to you. And the hyrax, because it chews its cud but does not have split hoves, is unclean to you. And the hare, because it chews its cud but does not have split hoves, is unclean to you. And the pig, because it has split hooves, and is cloven-footed, but does not chew its cud, is unclean to you. (Leviticus 11:4-7)

Midrashically, these four species are identified with the four "exiles" of the Jewish people: Babylonia, Persia, Greece, and Rome. (ויקרא רבה יג:ה) The exile of Rome, which continues until today, is associated with the pig, which has the superficial sign of kashrus (split hooves) but lacks the inner sign (chewing the cud).

The Talmud (Yoma 9b) states:

מקדש ראשון מפני מה חרב? מפני ג' דברים שהיו בו ע"ז וגלוי עריות ושפיכות דמים וכו' אבל מקדש שני שהיו עוסקין בתורה ובמצות וגמילות חסדים מפני מה חרב? מפני שהיתה בו שנאת חנם, ללמדך ששקולה שנאת חנם כנגד שלש עבירות ע"ז גלוי עריות ושפיכות דמים וכו'

ר' יוחנן ור"א דאמרי תרווייהו ראשונים שנתגלה עונם נתגלה קצם, אחרונים שלא נתגלה עונם לא נתגלה קצם. אמר רבי יוחנן טובה צפורנן של ראשונים מכריסו של אחרונים.

Why was the first Temple destroyed? Because of three sins that were in its time: Idolatry, sexual immorality, and bloodshed. ... But, in the time of the second Temple, when they were busy with Torah, mitzvos, and acts of benevolence, why was it destroyed? Because of the sin of unjustified hatred that existed at that time. This teaches that the sin of unjustified hatred is equal in severity to the three sins of idolatry, sexual immorality, and bloodshed.

Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Eliezer both said, "For the earlier people (i.e. the exiles of the first Temple), whose sins were revealed, the end (of their exile) was revealed. (The prophet told them that they would return after 70 years.) For the later people (i.e. the exiles of the second Temple), whose sins were not revealed, the end (of their exile) was not revealed." Rabbi Yochanan said, "The fingernail of the earlier ones was greater than the belly of the later ones."

The Vilna Gaon sees in this final statement of Rabbi Yochanan, about the "fingernail" and "belly" of the two generations, an allusion to the two signs of a kosher animal. The early generations are compared to the animals lacking the external sign of kashrus, the split hooves, in that their sins were open and acknowledged, whereas the later generations are compared to the pig, which has the superficial sign of kashrus, but does not chew of its cud, an internal process that is largely hidden from view. Thus, the generation of the first Temple, whose sins were revealed and acknowledged, was punished less severely than the generation of the second Temple, which maintained the superficial appearance of righteousness, but was internally sinful.

The essential point of the Vilna Gaon was summed up by Rav Dovid Tevele of Lissa (in a famous Shabbos HaGadol drasha in 1782, in which he condemned the proposed educational reforms of Naphtali Herz Wessely):

שהרשע המגלה רשעתו ירחיקו העם ממנו ולא ילמדו ממעשיו אבל הרשע אשר הרשעה טמונה בקרבו הוא לאבן נגף ולצור מכשול אשר יתלכדו העם אחריו והביטו אחר דבריו אשר במרמה ידבר.

The people know to distance themselves from an openly wicked person, and they do not learn from his actions, but a wicked person whose wickedness is hidden within is "a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence" who ensnares the people to follow him and to pay heed to his deceitful words.

Often, the biggest dangers are the least obvious, precisely because they are not obvious, and they therefore fail to elicit the normal protective responses against a threat. This is true in every area of life, including, perhaps especially, in the education of our children. While we certainly need to carefully screen the literature and entertainment that we expose our children to, we have to bear in mind the the biggest threats to be found in these areas are not necessarily the obvious ones. While we obviously shouldn't expose our children to outright immorality, the real challenge is often in the apparently "innocent" and "harmless" materials that we often expose our children to without hesitation.

For many parents, including myself, the natural gut reaction to this is to insist that our children only be exposed to purely "kosher" materials. Unfortunately, while this might be the ideal, I do not believe this is a realistic option for our children. Whether we acknowledge it or not, all of our homes, even the most insular, are permeated with the influences of the non-Jewish world. In the world in which we live today, there is no truly effective way to completely shut out the values, mores, and ideas of the non-Jewish world surrounding us. (As I mentioned earlier, more often than not, even ostensibly Orthodox Jewish literature carries such baggage within it.) As such, a simple policy of restricting our children's exposure is not only futile, but ultimately dangerous, as it fails to effectively train our children to recognize these influences and deal with them. So, while a certain degree of screening is certainly necessary, our general approach has to be to teach our children how to read (and watch) critically, from a proper Torah perspective.

Of course, this requires, first and foremost, a very strong Torah education. As the Sages teach us in Pirkei Avos, "הוי שקוד ללמוד תורה, ודע מה שתשיב לאפיקורוס" - "Be diligent in studying Torah, and know what to answer the non-believer." The first priority must always be Torah study. Nevertheless, in our generation, I believe it is also necessary for our children to have some exposure to non-Jewish literature, carefully guided, so that the children learn to read and think critically about such material. I readily acknowledge that this is not necessarily an easy thing to do, and that it requires a great deal of effort on the part of parents and teachers. However, I believe that this is the only truly responsible and effective approach in our time and place.

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Shemos - The Heroism of the God-Fearing Midwives

In the opening chapter of Parshas Shemos we read about the beginnings of Jewish slavery in Egypt. One of Pharaoh's main objectives in enslaving the Jewish people was to end the rapid growth of the Jewish population. The Torah tells us, however, that despite his efforts, the exact opposite took place and the Jewish population began to grow at an even faster pace.

At this point, Pharaoh chose to take a more direct approach to his "Jewish problem" by recruiting the midwives that served the Jewish people in a plot to covertly murder their male children during birth. The Torah tells us the story in six verses (Exodus 1:15-21):

And the king of Egypt spoke to the midwives of the Hebrews, of which the name of the one was Shifrah, and the name of the second was Puah. And he said, "When you deliver babies of the Hebrew women, and you see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, you shall kill him; but if it is a daughter, she shall live." But the midwives feared God, and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them, and they sustained the lives of the boys. And the king of Egypt called for the midwives, and he said to them, "Why have you done this thing, and sustained the lives of the boys?" And the midwives said to Pharaoh, "Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are skilled [in childbirth], before the midwife comes to them, they have already given birth." And God was good to the midwives and the people multiplied, and became very strong. And it was that because the midwives feared God, He made them houses.

Instead of obeying Pharaoh's orders, the midwives actively worked to sustain every Jewish child. This is truly one of greatest stories of moral courage in history. Indeed, the medieval commentator, R' Yosef Bechor Shor, writes that the Torah tells us the names of the midwives in order that they should be remembered for all time for their heroism.

However, this brings us to a difficulty. As Rashi tells us, the Sages (Sotah 11b) taught that Shifrah was actually Jochebed, the mother of Moses, and Puah was Miriam, Moses' older sister. This raises an obvious question. If Jochebed and Miriam were the actual heroes of the story, then why does the Torah hide their identity from us? 

I believe that the basic answer to this question is that Jochebed and Miriam are two of the greatest figures in Jewish history, and if the Torah had explicitly identified them as the midwives it would be all too easy for us to write off their heroism as simply "par-for-the-course" for such outstanding individuals. The Torah wants us to recognize that the heroism of Shifrah and Puah was rooted simply in the fact that, like any pious Jew, they "feared God." Such heroism is something that we can and should expect from every Jew.

This answer gains additional strength in light of the fact that Shifrah and Puah could not possibly have been the only midwives for the entire Jewish population. Rather, as many commentaries (e.g. ibn Ezra, Chizkuni) explain, Shifrah and Puah were the chief midwives, and under them were many hundreds of midwives, all of whom risked their lives to save the lives of the Jewish boys. While Jochebed and Miriam were the leaders of the midwives, the Torah specifically omits identifying them so as not to detract from the heroism of the hundreds of "ordinary" women who also "feared God" and refused to obey Pharaoh's wicked command.

However, some significant difficulties still remain. A survey of the major commentaries finds a surprisingly strong debate on whether, according to the peshat (simple) reading of these verses, the heroic midwives were even Jewish! While most commentaries (e.g. Rashbam, R' Yosef Bechor Shor) reject the possibility that the verses are referring to non-Jewish midwives, there are also major authorities (e.g. the Rokeach, Abarbanel, and Malbim) who see this as the simple reading of the verses.

This would seem to brings us back to square one. Not only did the Torah hide the true identities of Shifrah and Puah, it was even ambiguous about their Jewish identity! There is even a midrash (Medrash Tadshe cited in Yalkut Shimoni, Yehoshua 9) that includes Shifrah and Puah in a list of righteous female converts! This would certainly seem to directly contradict the identification of Shifrah and Puah with Jochebed and Miriam. Is this midrash simply arguing on the tradition cited by Rashi?

Perhaps we can answer this by expanding on what we discussed previously. If Jochebed and Miriam were merely the heads of a large group of many hundreds of midwives, then it is quite possible that at least some of those midwives were not Jewish. This would explain why the Torah is ambiguous about their national identity, because the midwives were actually a mixture of Jews and non-Jews.

If this is correct, then we have to ask ourselves what ultimately happened to the families of these non-Jewish God-fearing women, who risked their lives for the sake of the Jewish people. Is it possible that their children and grandchildren suffered the same fate as the other Egyptians during the Ten Plagues? Was that the ultimate destiny of the "houses" with which God rewarded these heroic midwives?

Perhaps the answer is that these God-fearing midwives, having come face to face with the utter moral depravity of Egyptian society, chose to join the Jewish people in their slavery. (Thus, they would not even have been counted among the erev rav, which only joined the Jewish people when they left Egypt.) I believe this may be the underlying intent of the midrash that identifies Shifrah and Puah as righteous converts. In that midrash, Shifrah and Puah represent the God-fearing non-Jewish midwives who, having risked their lives for the sake of the Jewish people, chose to throw their lot in with them entirely.

There is obviously a great deal that we can learn from this story. Based upon what we've just said, perhaps the most basic lesson is the central importance of fear of God for all mankind. As Abraham responded when Abimelech asked him why he hadn't revealed that Sarah was his wife, "Because I said, 'The only thing lacking in this place is fear of God, and they will kill me for my wife.'" (Genesis 20:11) No matter how materially or even ethically refined a society or individual may appear, without fear of God there is no limit to the moral depths to which they can sink. But, Jew or Gentile, all those who truly fear God will ultimately merit to enter beneath the wings of the Divine Presence.

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Vayeishev - Joseph's Struggle, and Ours

The bulk of Parshas Vayeishev, and the remainder of the book of Genesis, is devoted to the story of Joseph in Egypt. After Joseph was sold into slavery and brought to Egypt, he was purchased by Potiphar, a courtier of Pharaoh. Within a a relatively short time, Joseph rose to become his master's most trusted servant and he was appointed over the entire household.

However, at this point Joseph began to face an extraordinarily difficult challenge. His master's wife developed a powerful desire for him. The Torah tells us that she spoke to him "day after day," seeking to seduce him. The Sages tell us that she used every weapon in her arsenal: seduction, bribery, and threats. Yet, despite all her efforts, Joseph never succumbed. Finally, one day, Potiphar's wife managed to get Joseph alone, and she literally grabbed onto him by his garments. Joseph fled, leaving his coat in her hand. Potiphar's wife then accused him of doing exactly what she had been trying to force him to do, and Joseph ended up being put in prison.

The story of Joseph's resistance to sin is seen as one of the great examples of righteousness in history. This story is the main reason why Joseph is traditionally known as "Yosef HaTzadik" - "Joseph the Righteous". The Sages (Sotah 36b) describe Joseph's actions as "sanctifying the Name of Heaven in private" and they tell us (Yoma 35b) that Joseph "obligates the wicked", meaning that his successful struggle against sin demonstrates that a person can never legitimately claim that his temptations were too overwhelming. If Joseph, a teenage boy cut off from his family and enslaved in a foreign country, could resist such an overwhelming temptation, then who can honestly claim that they have faced a more difficult challenge?

Indeed, the story is so exceptional that there have been those who have argued that it couldn't be true. The medrash (Breishis Raba 87) tells us that a Roman matron once challenged Rav Yosi on this topic, saying, "Is it possible that a seventeen year old boy really had such strength?" Rav Yosi responded by pointing to two other incidents that the Torah records in the previous chapters, the incident of Reuben (who, according to a literal reading of the verses, slept with Bilhah, his father's wife) and the incident of Judah and Tamar. In both of those cases, the Torah makes no effort to cover up the shameful nature of their actions, despite the fact that these were adults and were still under the influence and guidance of their father. Why then, would the Torah cover up for the sin of a young boy who had no one to turn to? Could any one really blame Joseph if, in his circumstances, he had succumbed to temptation? Thus, if the Torah tells us that Joseph did not sin, we can be certain that this is what happened.

Rashi
Traditional Depiction

Yet, if we study the commentaries, we find that the story is more complex. Of that final, fateful day when Potiphar's wife tried to seduce Joseph the verse (39:11) tells us, "And it was, on that day, that he (Joseph) came to the house to do his work...." On the words, "to do his work," Rashi comments (based on Sotah 36b), "This is a dispute between the Sages, Rav and Shmuel. One says it means to actually do his work. And one says it means to 'fulfill his needs' with her (i.e. to sin with her), but he didn't actually do so because the image of his father appeared before him." (In the Talmud, it states that the image of his father came and appeared to Joseph in the window.)

There are a few obvious questions to ask here. Perhaps the most basic is why would any of the Sages choose to say this about Joseph? Joseph is one of our great ancestors, why would the Sages chose to sully his reputation?

In the 16th century, this question was posed to the chief rabbi of Jerusalem, R' Levi ibn Chaviv (d.1545). In his response (Teshuvos Maharlbach, 126), after briefly discussing the textual reasons that caused the Sages to put forth this interpretation, he turns to the question of the moral justification for this interpretation, which would appear to dishonor the memory of Joseph. To this he responds that such an interpretation does not detract from Joseph's righteousness in any way. Given the fact that, in the end, he did not commit the sin, the mere fact that he had, at some point, intended to sin does not make him any less righteous. On the contrary, the fact that he had reached that point and nevertheless ultimately turned away from sin actually increases his stature!

This point is also made by the medieval commentary, Minchas Yehuda (by R' Yehuda ben Eliezer), which states that, "כיון שכבש יצרו אין זה כי אם שבח" - "Since he conquered his yetzer (his nature), this is nothing but praise."

However, while this would seem to avoid the problem of dishonoring the memory of Joseph, we are still left with a difficulty. As we mentioned previously, the Sages say that Joseph's example puts the lie to anyone who claims that he should not be held responsible for his sinful behavior because he faced overwhelming temptation. After all, Joseph faced far greater temptation, yet he did not succumb. Yet, according to the Sages, in the final moment, what saved Joseph from sin was a vision of his father! If the only thing that saved Joseph from sin was a supernatural vision, how can we then claim that his example obligates others?

There are some who argue that, in fact, Joseph's vision of his father was not supernatural at all (or, at least, was not a supernatural gift restricted to Joseph). Basing himself on the precise language of the Talmudic passage, R' Yosef Shaul Nathanson (d.1875), in his work, Divrei Shaul (a commentary on the aggadic passages of the Talmud), on Sotah 36b, writes that, at the final moment, Joseph deliberately brought before his mind the image of his father, and thereby saved himself from sin.

This is also the conclusion of Rabbi Mordechai Miller (d.2000), in his Sabbath Shiurim (p.59). Like many other commentators, R' Miller sees Joseph's temptation by the wife of Potiphar as symbolic of the various temptations that the Jewish people have, and continue to, undergo throughout history. He concludes:

Jacob represents the ideal combination of... two aspects: in him, justice and mercy were mingled in exact proportion, finely suited to each situation. His characteristic was Truth..., and it was this that enabled him to conquer both the temptations of love and of hatred, of the friendship and the persecution of the nations. ... This unwavering light of Truth in him, penetrating beyond all appearances, has been an heirloom to all his descendants. This was the quality latent in Joseph, that light that flared out suddenly in his temptation by Potiphar's wife. ... And this 'image of Jacob' is hidden in every one of Jacob's descendants, this touch-stone of truth, that guides us in all the trials of life.

That is why 'Joseph is an accusation for the wicked': the 'image' is not the special prerogative of Joseph; it is in the power of everyone to summon it at will, to call to his aid in moments of confusion and distress the unerring vision of truth that penetrates all the disguises in which evil masquerades.

Thus, every Jew has the ability to bring the "image of Jacob" before himself as a protection against sin. Whether in the simplest sense of bringing before ourselves the image of our own father (or mother, or spouse, or any other person before whom we would be ashamed to sin) at the moment of temptation, to a deeper contemplation of the reality of our circumstances in this world, and recognizing the fundamentally false and deceptive nature of sin and its apparent pleasures and benefits.

However, while this is certainly a valid and important approach, it seems that most commentaries do see Joseph's vision of his father as having been of a supernatural nature, a kind of prophetic vision. According to this understanding, we are once again left with the difficulty we have been discussing. How can Joseph be credited for his self-restraint, and even seen as a model for our own behavior, if the only reason he refrained from sin was due to a supernatural intervention?

This question is addressed by the Dubno Maggid, R' Yakov Kranz (d.1804), in his commentary on parshas Vayeishev (Ohel Yaakov, also see his Kochav L'Yakov on the haftara of Lech Lecha). (We have discussed this commentary of the Dubno Maggid previously.) The Dubno Maggid explains that, even though Joseph was on the verge of succumbing to sin, this was not because he had actually succumbed to his desires, but because he reached the limits of his ability to resist the immense pressure that he was being subjected to by Potiphar's wife. While Joseph had truly fought with all his strength, in the end she had overpowered and broken his will to resist.

However, at this point God intervened. He intervened, not be taking control of Joseph's actions (which would remove any virtue from them) but simply by giving Joseph renewed strength to continue the fight. This was the vision of his father, which inspired Joseph with a renewed will to once again turn away from sin.

And this is the reason why Joseph remains an accusation against the wicked. For this miraculous intervention is available to anyone who truly struggles, to the limits of his ability, to resist sin. We can never truly claim that we succumbed to sin because temptation overpowered us, for if we had truly fought to the limits of our ability, then God would have granted us the capacity to continue fighting even beyond our natural capacity. This helps us understand the almost supernatural strength of will that we see in great Torah sages, for each time they reach the limit of their will, God grants them additional strength to go further.

In the final analysis, the story of Joseph's temptation, and his ultimate success in resisting sin, is one from which we can all learn. We learn, firstly, that one should not imagine that simply being tempted - even to the verge of sin - is equivalent to actual sin. Even if we, for a moment, wanted to sin, what really matters is whether, in the end, we actually did it.

Secondly, we learn that, even at the very last moment, we can still work to save ourselves from sin if we pause, for just a moment, to think about the the true nature of our actions. One of the most effective ways to do this is to imagine how someone that we love and respect would react if they saw what we were about to do.

And finally, we learn that, even when we feel that we are ultimately doomed to failure, because we know that we will eventually reach the limit of our will to resist, we should never give up the struggle, and in the end God will grant us the ability to go far beyond what we thought we were capable of achieving.

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Chayei Sarah - The Test of Rebecca

The bulk of Parshas Chayei Sarah deals with the famous story of Eliezer's mission to find a wife for Isaac. The Torah tells us that Abraham sent his trusted servant, Eliezer, to Mesopatamia find a wife for Isaac. Eliezer traveled with ten camels to the town of Nachor (Abraham's brother). He arrived at the town’s wellspring at the time when the women would come out to draw water. Eliezer then prayed that God should guide him with a sign to know which of the young women was the correct match for Isaac. Specifically, Eliezer prayed, that if, when he would ask her to let him drink some water from her jug, she would not only agree to give him water, but she would also give water to his camels, then he would know that she was the woman destined to marry Isaac.

Eliezer's prayer was successful. Before he had even finished praying, Rebecca came to the well with her jug. After she filled her jug, Eliezer ran to her and asked to drink some of her water. She agreed and gave him water to drink. When he finished she offered to give his camels to drink as well until they were finished. She poured the water into the trough and ran to refill the jug until she had drawn enough for all of his camels. Seeing that the sign had been fulfilled, Eliezer knew that he had found the future wife of Isaac.

Many commentators ask how Eliezer was permitted to utilize such a sign, for such signs are usually considered forbidden superstitious practices. (Thus, for example, it is forbidden for a Jew to change his path because a black cat crossed his path.) The Maharal (גור אריה) answers that the prohibition against superstitious signs applies only when the sign has no real relevance to the issue being decided. In this case, however, the sign that Eliezer chose was highly relevant, as it demonstrated that she was a generous and intelligent person and worthy of marrying Isaac.

The Beis HaLevi

The Beis HaLevi (Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik, d.1892) explained how this sign showed her good character and intelligence. She gave a stranger water to drink, demonstrating her generosity. However, now that the stranger had drunk from the jug, she could not simply bring the remaining water home, for the water might be contaminated. At the same time, if she would just pour out the remaining water and refill the jug, she would insult the stranger. Instead, she gave the remaining water to the stranger’s camels, demonstrating both her intelligence and her sensitivity to the feelings of others. (In fact, Rivka went even further, refilling the jug several times to water the camels.)

Thus, the sign was not simply a "sign" from above, it was also a test, to see how she would respond to a stranger asking for a kindness. And Rebecca clearly passed with flying colors, showing herself to be a kind and generous person, with a quick wit and an understanding heart. She was clearly an exceptional young woman.

But was she exceptional enough? What about her relationship with God? Was she a God-fearing woman? Shouldn't that be at least as important as her character and intelligence? After all, the unique characteristic of the family of Abraham was their devotion to God, and the wife of Isaac would certainly need to be a deeply religious woman. Yet, not only is this not included in the sign that Eliezer prayed for, the whole issue isn't even mentioned at any point in the story!

Rav Elya Lopian (d.1970) answered that this teaches us that if a person has truly good middos (character traits), then when he comes to the recognition of the truth of God and His Torah, he will quickly attain fear of God. Thus, even though, due to her environment, Rebecca may not have been a properly God-fearing woman, since she had demonstrated that she had exceptionally good character, it was certain that, once she came to live in the home of Abraham and Isaac, she would quickly develop into a genuinely God-fearing person.

This teaches us a profoundly important lesson. Our Sages taught, "דרך ארץ קדמה לתורה" - "Derech eretz (i.e. civilized behavior; good character) is prior to Torah." Ultimately, it is impossible to truly be a good Jew unless one is also a good person. Good middos (character traits) are the essential foundation for all other spiritual achievements.

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Nitzavim - "Those Who Repent..."

Parshas Nitzavim is a direct continuation from the end of Parshas Ki Savo, which we read last week. The main theme of Ki Savo was the Tochacha, the Admonition, in which Moses describes, in very harsh and frightening terms, the terrible punishment that awaits the Jewish people, as a people and as individuals, when they fail to obey the commandments of the Torah. Parshas Ki Savo ended with Moses again assembling the Jewish people for another speech, the bulk of which is in Parshas Nitzavim.

In this speech, which is a follow-up to the Tochacha, Moses begins with a very brief review of their history so far (i.e. the Exodus from Egypt and the forty years in the desert) and then, in Parshas Nitzavim, he goes on to the discuss the eternal covenant between the Jewish people and God, and the critical concepts of galus (exile) and the ultimate geula (redemption). As understood by the commentaries, part of Moses' intent in this speech was to reassure the Jewish people that despite the apparent harshness of the Tochacha, the Jewish people would always survive and that, as long as the road may be, the inevitable end of history would be the return of the Jewish people to God and their ultimate redemption from exile.

The idea that this speech was intended partly as a reassurance to the Jewish people after the harsh words of the Tochacha is made explicitly in a midrash (cited by Rashi, 29:12). The parsha opens with Moses' declaration (Deuteronomy 29:9), "You are all standing today before Hashem your God." The midrash states:

למה נסמכה פרשת "אתם נצבים" לקללות? לפי ששמעו ישראל מאה קללות חסר שתים, חוץ מארבעה ותשע שבת"כ, הוריקו פניהם ואמרו, "מי יוכל לעמוד באלו?" התחיל משה לפייסם, "אתם נצבים היום" - הרבה הכעסתם למקום ולא עשה אתכם כלייה, והרי אתם קיימים לפניה!

Why was the parsha [that begins with] "אתם נצבים" - "You are all standing [today before Hashem your God]" placed next to the curses (of Parshas Ki Savo)?

Because, when the Jewish people heard the ninety-eight curses (of the Tochacha), asides from the forty-nine curses in Leviticus (in an earlier Tochacha passage in Parshas Bechukosai), their faces turned pale and they said, "Who can survive these [curses]?" Moses began to reassure them, "You are standing here today!" - You have angered God many times and He has not destroyed you, and behold you are still standing before Him!

Although this midrash clearly indicates that part of Moses' intent in this parsha was to reassure the Jewish people after the harsh words of the Tochacha, it itself requires explanation. At first glance, Moses seems to be saying that we don't really need to take the Tochacha that seriously, for, after all, God hasn't destroyed us yet, has He? However, it should be self-evident that this was not Moses' intent. If God tells us, repeatedly and emphatically, that our sins can lead to terrible punishment, then it would be utter folly to dismiss this as mere rhetoric. Indeed, as Jewish history has made clear all too many times, the curses of the Tochacha are very real.

Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian

In addressing this question, the great mussar teacher, Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian (d.1970) explains that it is critical to understand that the purpose of punishment is never simply as "punishment" - i.e. simply to take vengeance against the sinner for his actions. Rather, the purpose of all punishment is for the benefit of the sinner, to break through the hardness of his heart and to motivate him to repent. He cites an analogy given by the Vilna Gaon (Rabbi Eliyahu of Vilna, d.1797) to planting a field. Before a field can be planted, the field must first be plowed over, so that the hard surface of the field is broken and the field is able to accept the seeds. Similarly, the Vilna Gaon explained, before a sinner can repent, the hardness of his heart needs to be "broken" so that the seeds of repentance can take root and grow. This is the meaning of the verse in Psalms (51:19), "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, you will not despise."

Thus, Rabbi Lopian explains, punishment is only necessary when our hearts are hardened to our sins. If our hearts are already softened, if we already acknowledge our sins and genuinely regret them, then there is no need for actual punishment. Thus, he explains, when Moses saw that the Jewish people took the message of the Tochacha to heart, to the point that their faces turned pale, he told them that that itself was sufficient to spare them from the destruction of the Tochacha. Moses' point was that, ultimately, the punishments of the Tochacha will only befall those who fail to take it seriously. Indeed, Moses makes this point explicitly a little later in the parsha when he says (29:17-19):

Perhaps there is among you a man or woman, or a family or tribe, whose heart turns away today from Hashem our God... and when he hears the words of this curse, he blesses himself in his heart, saying: 'I shall have peace, though I walk in the stubbornness of my heart"... God will not be willing to forgive him, and then God's anger and jealousy shall be kindled against that man, and all the curse that is written in this book shall lie upon him, and God shall erase his name from under heaven.

Ultimately, the curses of the Tochacha will only befall those who have no fear of the Tochacha. However, those who take the message of the Tochacha to heart, who recognize that they have sinned and that they need to repent, have already, through that very recognition, achieved the intended purpose of the Tochacha and have no need for the actual punishments.

This principle is actually alluded to in the text of the Tochacha itself (in last week's parsha), where we read (28:47) that the suffering of the Tochacha will befall the Jewish people "because you did not serve Hashem your God with joy and a good heart." Many commentaries struggle with the meaning of this verse, which seems to imply that the reason for their punishment was that, even though they served God, they failed to do so with sufficient happiness. This raises a number of difficulties in that, not only does it seem to contradict other verses, but it also seems to be a disproportionate response. (For further discussion of this topic, see: Ki Savo - The Tochacha and Serving God with Joy.)

However, some commentaries understand the intent of the verse quite differently, as saying that the punishment of the Tochacha will befall the Jewish people when they are in a state of "joy and good heart" even while not serving God and obeying His commandments. Thus, the Beis Yitzchak explains:

Even if a person is wicked and fails to serve God at all, but he is troubled and pained by this, such a person is not fully wicked, for there is hope for him that he will repent and return to God. However, one who is so wicked that he feels no concern at all about his wickedness, but is perfectly happy with his sinful behavior, there is no hope that such a person will come to repent [on his own initiative].

The punishments of the Tochacha are intended as a wake-up call for those who are so immersed in sin that they no longer even feel bad about it. On the contrary, they are perfectly happy with their behavior and see no reason to change. It is for such people that the punishments of the Tochacha are necessary to soften their hardened hearts and awaken them to teshuva (repentance).

This principle is used by Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (d.1883) to explain an enigmatic Talmudic passage (Nidda 70b) which discusses an apparent contradiction between two Biblical verses. In chapter 18 of the book of Ezekiel, the prophet describes the great power of repentance and concludes (18:32), "For I do not desire the death of he that [should] die [for his sins], says the Lord, Hashem; [rather] repent and live!" This verse clearly states that God does not desire the death of the sinner. 

Yet, in the book of I Samuel (2:25) we find, in the case of the sinful sons of Eli, that the verse states, "that God desired to kill them." So we find that, at least in some cases, God does desire the death of the sinner!

The Talmud resolves the apparent conflict with the brief statement, "Here [in Ezekiel] it speaks of those who repent and here [in Samuel] it speaks of those who do not repent." The problem, of course, is that the verse in Ezekiel is explicitly speaking of a person who has not repented!

Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (אור ישראל ל', וראה גם ספר חכמה ומוסר ב:רמד) explains that in this context, "those who repent" does not refer to those who engage in full fledged repentance for their sins, but merely to those who are troubled and pained by their sins, for such a person is already on the path of repentance. In regard to such a sinner, even if he has not yet repented, God says that He does not desire his death. However, with regard to a sinner who is entirely untroubled by his sins, and of whom there can be no expectation of repentance, of such a sinner we are taught that God desires his death.

This principle is particularly important at this time of year, as we approach the Day of Judgment on Rosh Hashana and we turn to God and ask Him to grant us a new year of life and happiness. As we stand before God in judgment for our sins, we recognize that, when all is said and done, we are very far from being able to genuinely repent from all of our sinful behaviors. How then can we stand before God and ask Him to forgive us, if we know that we will continue to do many of the same sins next year as well?

Of course, part of the answer is that we have to find some area - even if very small - in which we really do improve ourselves. But what about everything else? Is God simply going to ignore it all?

From what we have just learned, however, we can see that if we truly feel bad about our sins, even if we are not yet capable of changing for the better, then God will, to some degree, temporarily overlook those sins and give us time to grow and eventually reach the point where we will be able to truly repent.

It follows from this that one of our main tasks at this time of year, from the beginning of the month of Elul until the closing prayer of Yom Kippur, is to work on an honest assessment of our weaknesses, to acknowledge that we need to improve, and to genuinely desire to do so. If we accomplish this, even if it only manifests itself in what, superficially, seems to be only a minor improvement, then we can truly turn to God with confidence that He will grant us a good and sweet new year.

May we all merit to have a kesiva v'chasima tova!

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Ki Seitzei - The Prohibition of Cross-Dressing

In Parshas Ki Seitzei we read of the prohibition of cross-dressing (Deuteronomy 22:5):

The vessels of a man shall not be on a woman, and a man shall not don a woman's garment; for whoever does these things is an abomination to Hashem your God.

In practical terms, this means that we may not wear garments associated with the opposite gender. Moreover, as understood by the Sages, the prohibition also forbids men from specific behaviors - such as shaving body hair or dyeing their hair - that are commonly associated with women, and the same rule applies to women.

Most sources explain that the reason for this prohibition is that it can lead to immoral behavior and also that such cross-dressing was associated with idolatry. However, many commentaries see a more fundamental issue here, as R' Avraham Ibn Ezra (d.1164) concludes his commentary on this verse:

... ה' יתעב מי שישנה מעשה ה'.

God abominates he who changes God's deeds.

Similarly, the Rekanti (kabbalistic commentary on the Torah by R' Menachem Rekanti, d.1305) writes:

פשטו ידוע, אמנם על דרך הקבלה יש לך לדעת כי הרמז הוא שלא ישנה סדרי בראשית וכו'

The simple meaning [of the prohibition] is well know, however, kabbalistically, you should know that the symbolism [of the prohibition] is that one should not change the structure of Creation....

The Toldos Yakov Yosef (R' Yakov Yosef of Polnoye, d.1794) explains that the basic idea underlying this prohibition is that every person must accept the role, i.e. the unique task that God has given him, and not attempt to challenge or change that role.

Every human being has unique spiritual capabilities which no other person can duplicate. Thus, every human being has a unique role to play in bring the world to its ultimate state of perfection. As the Sages teach us (Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a):

כל אחד ואחד חייב לומר בשבילי נברא העולם.

Every person is obligated to say, "The world was created for my sake!"

Every individual plays an essential role in the world, and we are obligated to recognize this. As each of us has a unique role in this world, there is no way to compare the circumstances of different individuals. Just as responsible parents need to work with each child as an individual, in order to enable that particular child to fully develop his own unique potential, as we are taught in Proverbs (22:6), "חנך לנער על פי דרכו" - "Educate the child according to his way," so too God directs the circumstances of our lives in order to provide us with the ideal circumstances in which to develop our own unique spiritual potential. Thus, each of us experiences different challenges in life, different spiritual affinities, different temptations to sin, and so on, for each of us has a different task to achieve.

As God's children, our role is to trust Him and to accept the role that He has given us and by doing so we relate to Him as children to a father. This is particularly important at this time of year, as we prepare for the day of judgment on Rosh Hashana. Our relationship with God has two basic levels, that of Father and child and that of King and servant. While both are always present, in many places in our prayers we express the hope that, when we come before God in judgement, the Father-son relationship should be dominant.

As many sources make clear, the primary factor that determines how God relates to us is how we view our relationship with Him. If we see God as a powerful king who imposes decrees on us which we have no choice but to obey, then we relate to Him as a servant to a King. But if we relate to God as a wise and loving father whose rules and demands are always purely for our benefit, then we relate to Him as a child to a Father.

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Eikev - "If you listen"

Parshas Eikev opens and closes with two famous passages in which the Torah teaches us that the Jewish people's entire fortune depends purely on whether or not they will "listen" to God's commandments. The parsha begins (Deuteronomy 7:12), "And it shall be that if you listen to these laws, and keep them and do them, that Hashem your God will keep with you the covenant and the mercy that He swore to your fathers," and then goes on to describe in details the many blessings that we will enjoy if we obey the commandments. However, Moses concludes with a warning that we must take care not to forget Hashem, and that if we fail to observe the commandments we shall suffer grave punishment, "because you did not listen to the voice of Hashem your God" (8:20)

Similarly, at the end of the parsha (11:13-21) we read one of the most familiar passages in the Torah, best known to us as the second paragraph of the Shema, in which God again tells us, "And it will be that if you listen to My commandments... then I shall provide rain... and you will eat and be satisfied." However, if we fail to obey the commandments, "Then the wrath of God shall burn against you..."

Of course, the general principle, that the fate and fortune of the Jewish people depends entirely upon their obedience to God's commandments, is a major theme throughout the Torah, especially in the book of Deuteronomy. However, there is also a more subtle theme in these verses, and that is the emphasis on "listening." In many critical passages of the Torah, we find a great emphasis placed on "listening" or "hearing." Of course, the most famous is the opening verse of the Shema (which we read in last week's Torah portion), "Hear O Israel, Hashem is your God, Hashem is One."

As the commentaries point out, when the Torah instructs us to listen, it is not simply telling us to hear the sounds with our ears, but that we should think about we hear, that we should be aware of their significance, and that it should make some kind of real difference in our behavior. Thus, we mustn't just listen to the words of the Torah with our ears, but we must listen with our hearts and minds, so that we are no longer the same people after we have listened as we were before.

The first convert to Judaism was Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses. The Torah describes what caused Jethro to join the Jewish nation in one sentence, "And Jethro, the priest of Midian, the father-in-law of Moses, heard all that God had done for Moses, and for His people Israel, that God had brought Israel out of Egypt." Jethro heard about the miraculous exodus of the Jewish people from Egypt, and he came to convert. Jethro was certainly not the only one who heard this news, yet he was the only one who really "listened" to the news, with a mind that was fully conscious and aware. So, while everyone else heard the same news, only Jethro truly "heard" what the news actually meant.

R' Shimon Schwab

This may well be the most basic requirement that God demands from us. That we not go through life on auto-pilot and ignore the true meaning of everything we see and hear. Rav Shimon Schwab (d.1995) (Selected Essays pp.63-64) brings this point out with regard to a Talmudic debate with regard to the laws of the Sabbath. The Talmud states that one who violated the Sabbath because he "forgot the essence of the Sabbath" (השוכח עיקר שבת) is obligated to bring a sacrifice which atones for inadvertent sin. There is a debate in the Talmud as to the exact meaning of this category of "one who forgot the essence of the Sabbath." One opinion is that this refers to a Jewish child who was abducted and raised as a Gentile (תינוק שנשבה בין העכו"ם). Even though this Jew did not even know that he was Jewish, and had no awareness of the laws of the Sabbath, he is still obligated to bring an offering for his violation of the Sabbath because, even in such a circumstance, there is still some degree of guilt that requires atonement. The obvious question is how can a person in that situation be held responsible at all?

Rav Schwab gives an answer that he heard from R' Yerucham Levovitz, the famous mashgiach of the Mir yeshiva:

Hashem is "חונן לאדם דעת." He has planted the power of thinking into the human brain. Even a Gentile is expected to ask himself one day, when his mind matures, "Who am I? What am I doing in this world? What's the purpose of my existence?" And he, too, will realize that life must have some meaning. In the course of such inquiries, even a tinok shenishbah (captured child) might find out who he really is. Eventually, he might discover that he is really Jewish and what it means to be Jewish. He might discover that there is a Torah, and there is a Shabbos. Therefore, as a human being with a mind, he is not entirely blameless for his failure to keep the Torah. In that case, at least one korban chattas (sin offering) is required to atone for his failure of realization.

This is the obligation of "listening" - an obligation that, in many ways, is logically prior to all other obligations, one that is inherent in the simple fact that, as Rav Schwab put it, one is "a human being with a mind." Even if we didn't have the Torah, even if we never heard of Judaism, or even of God, as a human being with a functioning mind we have a moral obligation to pay honest attention to what the world is telling us. This is the model of our ancestor, Abraham, who, surrounded by paganism, came to the recognition of the one God through his own intellect. This is the lesson of Jethro, who truly "heard" the news, while everyone else around him was deaf to its true meaning.

It is this that God demands from us even after we know the truth. We are to "listen" to His laws, not simply to go through the motions of obeying them, but paying attention to what what they mean. When the Jewish people accepted the Torah, they declared, “נעשה ונשמע” – “We will do and we will hear.” (Exodus 24:7) As many commentators point out, placing “we will do” before “we will hear” demonstrates that the Jewish people were not referring to the listening necessary for basic compliance with the law. That level of listening is already implicit in “we will do”, as one cannot obey a law that one has not heard. When the Jewish people said, “we will hear”, they were saying that they would not simply obey the laws in a superficial and rote manner, but that they would “listen” to the lessons that the laws teach and that those lessons would change them into better people.

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Mattos-Masei - The Soldiers' Offering

In Parshas Mattos we read of the war that God commanded the Jewish people to wage against the Midianites in vengeance against their efforts to lead the Jewish people into sin (as described previously in Numbers 25).

At the conclusion of the war, when the Jewish soldiers returned to the camp with their captives and spoils, Moses was angry with the commanders of the army because they had - in keeping with the normal standards of Jewish warfare - kept alive the women. Moses points out that in this case it was the women in particular who had seduced the Jewish people into sin, and therefore they too had to be killed.

At this point the Torah goes into some detail about various laws of purity, the kashering of the utensils, and the division of the spoils. After all these issues are discussed and dealt with, the Torah tells us that the officers of the army approached Moses with a special request (Numbers 31:48-50):

ויקרבו אל משה הפקדים אשר לאלפי הצבא שרי האלפים ושרי המאות: ויאמרו אל משה עבדיך נשאו את ראש אנשי המלחמה אשר בידנו ולא נפקד ממנו איש: ונקרב את קרבן ה' איש אשר מצא כלי זהב אצעדה וצמיד טבעת עגיל וכומז לכפר על נפשתינו לפני ה':

And the officers that were over the thousands of the army, the captains of thousands, and the captains of hundreds, approached Moses. And they said to Moses, 'Your servants have made a count of the men of war that are under our command, and not one man has been lost. And we have brought an offering to God, what every man has found articles of gold, anklet and bracelet, ring, ear-ring, and kumaz, to atone for our souls before God.'

The Talmud (Shabbos 64a-b) discusses this offering, and provides us with some background as to what was happening here and what it teaches us:

ויקצוף משה על פקודי החיל אמר רב נחמן אמר רבה בר אבוה אמר להן משה לישראל שמא חזרתם לקלקולכם הראשון אמרו לו לא נפקד ממנו איש אמר להן אם כן כפרה למה אמרו לו אם מידי עבירה יצאנו מידי הרהור לא יצאנו מיד ונקרב את קרבן ה'

תנא דבי רבי ישמעאל מפני מה הוצרכו ישראל שבאותו הדור כפרה מפני שזנו עיניהם מן הערוה אמר רב ששת מפני מה מנה הכתוב תכשיטין שבחוץ עם תכשיטין שבפנים לומר לך כל המסתכל באצבע קטנה של אשה כאילו מסתכל במקום התורפה:

"And Moses was angry with the officers of the army." (Numbers 31:14) R. Nachman said, "Rabbah bar Avuha said, 'Moses said to Israel: 'Perhaps you have returned to your first sin (i.e. of fornicating with the Midianite women)?' [The officers] said [in reply], 'Not one man has been lost (i.e. not one man has fallen to sin).' [Moses] said to them, 'If so, why [do you need] an atonement?' They said, 'Though we escaped from sin, we did not escape from [sinful] thoughts.'  Thus, 'And we have brought an offering to God.'"

The School of R. Yishmael taught: Why did Israel of that generation need atonement? Because they indulged their eyes with lewdness. R. Sheshes said: Why does Scripture enumerate the outward ornaments (i.e. anklets, bracelets, and rings) with the inner ornaments (i.e. the kumaz, which the Talmud previously explained to refer to an ornament that a woman wore upon her gentalia)? To tell you that one who gazes upon a woman's little finger is as though he gazed upon the genitalia.

The Talmud tells us that the offering of gold by the soldiers was intended to atone for improper thoughts that they had experienced when they looked upon the Midianite women. Although they had not actually sinned with the women, they still recognized that atonement was necessary even for such inappropriate thoughts, given that they resulted from inappropriate gazing. Indeed, the Talmud concludes that not only is it forbidden to look upon a women's actual nakedness, it is even forbidden for a man to gaze upon a forbidden woman who is fully clothed, if he has intent to have pleasure from her beauty. (This is cited by the Rambam (Hil. Issurei Biah 21:2) and Shulchan Aruch (Even Haezer 21:1) as practical halacha.)

However, as important as it is for us to avoid sinful thoughts, there remains a huge difference between sinful thoughts and sinful deeds. The Midrash Lekach Tov (a Biblical commentary written by  R' Toviah ben Eliezer in the 11th century) cites the Talmudic passage "מידי עבירה יצאנו מידי הרהור לא יצאנו" - "Though we escaped from sin, we did not escape from [sinful] thoughts" - and then states, "מלמד שהיו כולם צדיקים" - "This teaches us that they were all tzadikim (righteous men)." Despite the fact that they had gazed upon that which was inappropriate - "שזנו עיניהם מן הערוה" - which caused them to have sinful thoughts, the Medrash Lekach Tov still states that they were all tzadikim. It is all too common for those who struggle with sinful thoughts to see themselves as sinful and wicked, perhaps even irredeemably so. From the Medrash Lekach Tov we see that, as serious as this issue is, one who struggles with this problem can still be considered a tzaddik.

I believe there is another important lesson implicit in this Talmudic teaching. Many of the commentaries (Maharsha, HaRif on Ein Yakov) point out that the dialogue between Moses and the officers was actually spread over a fair amount of time. Moses became angry with the officers in verse 14, when they returned with the Midianite women as captives, yet their response does not take place until much later, in verse 48, after they had killed the women, purified themselves, kashered the vessels, and divided the spoils - all of this according to Moses' instructions. All of this took time, at least several days. It was only then that the officers approached Moses with the offering of gold from the soldiers, and informed him that none of the soldiers had actually sinned with the Midianite women.

I believe that this provides us with a model for how one should respond to criticism from one's rebbi (Torah teacher). If your teacher or rabbi accuses you of doing something improper, one's initial response should not be to immediately deny the accusation. Rather, the first thing one should do is to listen to what your teacher says and to follow his instructions. Only later, after one has fully complied with his teacher's instructions, is it time to approach him and to clear your name. (As should be obvious, of course, there may be cases where such an approach is not feasible.)

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Pinchas - The Zealotry of Phinehas

The previous parsha ended with the the violent act of zealotry of Phinehas, who killed a Jewish man that was engaging in public fornication with a Midianite woman, thereby saving the Jewish people from a plague. Parshas Pinchas begins immediately following this incident, with God's declaration to Moses:

Phinehas, the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron the priest, has turned My anger away from the children of Israel, in that he was very jealous for My sake among them, and I have not destroyed the children of Israel in My jealousy. Therefore say, Behold, I give to him My covenant of peace. And it shall be for him and his children after him, a covenant of eternal priesthood; because he was jealous for his God, and made atonement for the children of Israel.

The commentaries note that the Torah emphasizes the lineage of Phinehas, going back two generations, to his grandfather, Aaron the priest. This is particular significant, given that the Torah had already introduced us to Phinehas, and his lineage, just three verses previously.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 82b, cited by Rashi here) explains why Phinehas' lineage is emphasized:

התחילו שבטים מבזין אותו ראיתם בן פוטי זה שפיטם אבי אמו עגלים לעבודת כוכבים והרג נשיא שבט מישראל בא הכתוב ויחסו פנחס בן אלעזר בן אהרן הכהן

[After the incident,] the tribes began to disparage Phinehas, saying, "See this son of Puti, whose maternal grandfather fattened calves for idolatry, and he has killed a prince of a tribe of Israel!" Scripture [therefore] came and stated his lineage: Phinehas, the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron the Priest.

(Rashi, on the Talmud, explains, that Phinehas' father, Eleazar, had married one of the daughters of Jethro - who was also known as Putiel. Jethro has originally been an idolatrous priest.)

On the simple level, this attack against Phinehas was entirely unjustified and represented nothing more than the type of anger that would be expected after such an incident. Now matter how justified Phinehas' action was, and no matter how beneficial it may have been to the nation, the reality is that after a violent incident such as this, there will inevitably be some very strong negative emotions.

However, if this were nothing more than the usual angry words that tend to float around after any incident of this sort, there would be no reason for the Torah and the Sages to record the exact nature of the complaint. The fact that this information has been transmitted to us indicates that there is something more significant going on. It would seem that the disparaging remarks about Phinehas' ancestry were, at least at first glance, justifiable, and it was therefore necessary for the Torah to emphasize that Phinehas was also the grandson of Aaron the priest.

Phinehas' act of zealotry, in which he unilaterally acted to execute a sinner, is obviously one fraught with difficulty on many levels.While, in the final analysis, there is indeed a principle that certain sins, such a public fornication with a non-Jewish woman, are indeed subject to a special law that "zealots may kill him" (קנאים פוגעים בו), in practical terms this law is extremely limited in scope. Many commentaries emphasize that one of the conditions required for a person to act on this principle is that they must be genuinely motivated purely out of love and "jealousy" for God. Any other motivation renders the act forbidden.

Thus, when the Jewish people looked at Phinehas, who alone, of all the great men in Israel, had chosen to act in this manner, they were deeply skeptical that his actions had been motivated purely by his moral outrage at the desecration of God's honor. After all, he was himself the grandson of an idolatrous priest, and, in fact, the son of a Midianite woman! Perhaps his motivation derived from other, less pure elements, that he had received through his non-Jewish ancestry. It was only with through God's revelation that it became clear that Phinehas' zealotry was rooted entirely his love of God, and that his actions were worthy of the grandson of Aaron the priest.

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Shelach - Challah and the Purpose of Creation

In Parshas Shelach we read about the mitzva of hafrashas challah - setting aside a portion of our dough for the Kohanim. The Torah states (Numbers 15:17-20):

וידבר ה' אל משה לאמר: דבר אל בני ישראל ואמרת אלהם בבאכם אל הארץ אשר אני מביא אתכם שמה: והיה באכלכם מלחם הארץ תרימו תרומה לה': ראשית ערסתכם חלה תרימו תרומה כתרומת גרן כן תרימו אתה: מראשית ערסתיכם תתנו לה' תרומה לדרתיכם:

And God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the children of Israel and say to them, When you come to the land to which I am bringing you. It shall be, that when you eat from the bread of the land, you shall set aside a portion for God. You shall set aside a loaf from the first of your dough; you shall set it aside like the the portion that is set aside from the threshing-floor. Of the first of your dough you shall give to God a portion throughout your generations.

Although the Biblical obligation of challah does not currently apply (and, even when applicable, it only applies in the land of Israel), there is a Rabbinic obligation to separate challah from our dough at all times and places.

The medrash (בראשית רבה א:ד) states that challah is one of a small group of mitzvos in the merit of which the world was created, and they find an allusion to creation in the use of the term "reishis" - "beginning" - in the verses quoted above.^[1]

The Shelah HaKadosh (R' Isaiah Horowitz, d.1630)^[2] writes that, while we can readily understand what the Sages meant when they said that the world was created for the sake of the Torah, or for Israel (as we find in Rashi on Genesis 1:1), as these refer to broad general concepts that ultimately include everything, it is difficult to understand why challah is singled out from all the other commandments as being of such significance. Clearly, the medrash is telling us that challah represents a broader concept that, when properly understood, can be seen as ultimately including the entire Torah, and, indeed, the entire purpose of Creation.

The Shelah HaKadosh answers that man is intended to serve God by fulfilling His Torah with both his body and soul, achieving such a deveikus (connection) with God and His Torah that even the physical body becomes sanctified. Yet, asks the Shelah Hakadosh, how can the physical body ever achieve a true deveikus with the spiritual as long as it is still bound to the physical need for food? How can we truly sanctify our physical bodies when, no matter what we accomplish, our inescapable appetite for food will inevitably bring us back to our physical, animal nature?

The solution to this problem, the Shelah HaKadosh writes, is that God has given us the ability to sanctify our food, so that even when we are engaging in the physical act of eating, we are actually engaged in an extraordinary act of holiness. We sanctify our food in a wide variety of ways, including the adherence to the dietary laws and the recitation of brachos (blessings) both before and after eating. There are many times when we specifically obligated to feast and rejoice with food and drink, such as in celebration of the Sabbath  and festivals. Perhaps the ultimate example of this principle was in the eating of the sacrifices in the Holy Temple.

Challah clearly represents this principle. Through the mitzva of challah we demonstrate that even our ordinary bread, being prepared for an ordinary meal on an ordinary day, is holy to God. It is only after we set aside a portion of that dough for God that we may partake of it ourselves. God, so to speak, takes part even in our most ordinary meals, for a proper Jewish home is a Temple to God, and a proper Jewish table is an altar to God, and, at a proper Jewish meal, every bite of food that we consume is a holy korban (sacrifice) to God.

Once we fully grasp this concept, we quickly recognize that this principle lays at the foundation of virtually everything we do as Jews. For a Jew, there is no fundamental conflict between the physical and the spiritual. On the contrary, our task as Jews is precisely to bring these apparently disparate elements into unity with each other through the fulfillment of the mitzvos. For the Jew, therefore, religious life is not limited to the synagogue. On the contrary, the essence of Judaism is precisely what we do outside of the synagogue, in our homes and our businesses and in the public sphere.

Thus, we can understand why the medrash says that the world was created in the merit of challah, for through the mitzva of challah we can recognize this vital principle which, ultimately, includes the entire Torah and, indeed, the entire purpose of Creation.

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[1] ר' הונא בשם ר' מתנה אמר בזכות ג' דברים נברא העולם, בזכות חלה, ובזכות מעשרות, ובזכות בכורים, ומה טעם? בראשית ברא אלקים, ואין ראשית אלא חלה, שנאמר, ראשית עריסותיכם וכו'

[2] שער האותיות, ק' קדושת האכילה [ס"ז-ס"ח]

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Beha'aloscha - The Sin of Miriam

At the end of Parshas Beha'aloscha (Numbers 12), we read of the incident in which Miriam is punished with tzaraas for the sin of speaking lashon hara (harmful speech) of her younger brother, Moses. (See our previous discussion of this incident.) This incident is of such significance that it is the subject of a special obligation, as stated in Deuteronomy 24:9:

זכור את אשר עשה ה' אלקיך למרים בדרך בצאתכם ממצרים:

“Remember what Hashem your God did to Miriam when you were on the road when you left Egypt.”

Maimonides

Towards the end of his discussion of the laws of tzaraas (Hil. Tumas Tzaraas 16:10), Maimonides explains that the primary function of tzaraas was as a "sign and wonder in Israel to warn them against lashon hara." He then makes reference to the mitzva to remember the incident of Miriam and explains:

The Torah is telling us to think deeply upon what happened to the prophetess Miriam, who spoke about her brother. For she was older than him, and she had raised him [as a child] and had endangered herself to save him from the [river], and she did not speak derogatorily of him, but simply erred in equating him to to other prophets. {Furthermore, Moses] had no objection to any of these words, as it says [in the account of the incident] (Numbers 12:3), "and the man, Moses, was very humble." And, despite all of this, she was immediately punished with tzaraas! [If even in such a case, God was so strict with regard to the sin of lashon hara, then] all the more so with regard to those foolish and wicked men who talk excessively of great and wondrous matters [i.e. they speak disparagingly of the righteous and the prophets]!

Thus, we have a special obligation to remember what happened to Miriam, and from recalling that incident, we should recognize the great severity of the sin of lashon hara. Indeed, the mere fact that there is such a mitzva is itself a matter of great significance. As the Pele Yo'etz (R' Eliezer Papo, d.1824) points out (ערך זכרונות), lashon hara is the only prohibition with such an obligation associated with it.

While the severity of the sin of lashon hara is well known and is heavily emphasized throughout all traditional Torah works, the reason for this severity is less clear. On the simplest level, one of the reasons why the severity of lashon hara is so heavily emphasized is precisely because it is a sin that is often overlooked as insignificant. While we readily recognize the severity of crimes such as murder, robbery, or even simply striking another person, and we would not hesitate to condemn someone who engages in such behavior,   when it comes to lashon hara our moral awareness often seems to be diminished. Thus, the Torah must go out of its way to emphasize, and reemphasize, over and over, the severity of this sin, and to stress that it truly is in the same moral category as murder and robbery.

Moreover, asides from the obvious moral issues involved in lashon hara, there are sources that tell us that the severity of lashon hara is rooted in the spiritual significance of the power of human speech. R' Levi Yitzchak of Berdichov (d.1809) writes (פי' נחמד על הזכירות) that the the human power of speech is a special gift from God that distinguishes us from the animals. The true purpose of this gift is for us to use it for spiritual purposes, especially the study of Torah and prayer. To, God forbid, take this Divine, spiritual gift and use it to speak lashon hara or falsehoods or any of the other sins involving speech, is therefore a basic corruption of our spiritual status as human beings.

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Bamidbar - The Lesson of the Degalim

The second chapter of Parshas Bamidbar discusses the division of the Jewish population in the wilderness into four camps, each containing three tribes, surrounding the camp of the Levites,  with the Tabernacle in the center. Each of these four camps was to have a degel - banner - that symbolically represented the tribes within that camp (and, according to many sources, each tribe had its own banner as well).

The midrashim and commentaries discuss the symbolism and significance of these degalim (banners), and the division of the nation into camps, at great length. However, after all the discussion, we still need to understand what purpose there was in dividing up the nation in this manner and assigning each tribe its own symbol.

Many commentaries note that this system, with the regulated division of forces and the assignment of banners and symbols, closely resembles that of a military organization. Some understand this in the simple manner that this was intended to prepare the Jewish nation for military operations upon entering the land of Israel. Nevertheless, it seems self-evident that this was much more than simply a practical arrangement for pragmatic purposes. The midrashim clearly see in this division - "each man by his banner" - a spiritual lesson of profound significance. Indeed, the Medrash Tanchuma (Bamidbar 14) states that our future redemption will be in the merit of the banners (בזכות הדגלים אני גואל אתכם)!

It would seem that the basic message of the degalim was twofold. The first message of the degalim was to symbolize the unique status of the Jewish people as separate and distinct from all the other nations of the world. Thus, just like a military force moves and camps with banners, so that all who see them will know they exist to serve their king and nation, so too the Jewish people moved and camped with banners to declare that they exist to serve God. Thus, the most basic message of the degalim was that we must recognize that, like soldiers, we live to serve God and to obey His every command. It is this which sets us apart from all the other nations of the world. While every human being is obligated to serve God, just as every citizen is obligated to serve his king and nation, a Jew exists only to serve God, and every aspect of his life must be directed to that purpose.

By contrast, the second message of the degalim is that the fact that we all - as Jews - exist for the single purpose of serving God does not mean that we all are expected to serve God in exactly the same way. On the contrary, we see from the degalim that God not only acknowledges the diversity of the Jewish people but actually celebrates it. Every tribe had its own unique strengths and virtues that enabled it to serve God in its own unique fashion. Thus, the tribes camped separately, but were held together by the central camp of the Tabernacle, symbolizing the Torah, which must always remain our exclusive focus. (See my previous post: Noach - The Value of Diversity.)

When, as a nation, we truly internalize the lessons of the degalim, that we all must devote our lives to the service of God - each in our own way - then we will truly merit the coming of the redemption.

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Behar-Bechukosai - The Strange Lesson of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi

In Parshas Behar we read (Leviticus 25:17):

ולא תונו איש את עמיתו ויראת מאלקיך כי אני ה' אלקיכם:

“And you shall not hurt the feelings of one another, but you shall fear your God, for I am HaShem your God.” 

This is the prohibition of onaas devarim - hurting the feelings of another Jew. Torah law prohibits us from causing suffering to our fellow Jews, even just hurting their feelings through insensitive speech.

The midrash (Yalkut Shimoni here, Vayikra Raba 33:1) tells us of an interesting object lesson that the great sage, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, used to bring this lesson home to his students:

רבי עשה סעודה לתלמידיו, הביא לפניהם לשונות רכין ולשונות קשין. התחילו בוררין את הרכין ומניחין את הקשין. א"ל, בני, כך יהא לשונכם רך אלו עם אלו!

Rabbi [Yehuda HaNasi] made a feast for his students, in which he brought before them [cooked dishes of] soft tongues and hard tongues. The students began to choose the soft tongues and setting aside the hard tongues. He said to them, "My sons! So should your tongues be soft with each other!"

It's a cute lesson. In fact, it almost seems too cute. The students of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi were not children. They were all respected scholars in their own right, who were perfectly capable of understanding such a simple concept without using such a dramatic presentation. Why did Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi choose to make his point in such a manner?

The Chofetz Chaim

Perhaps we can understand this by reference to a public letter written by the Chofetz Chaim, R' Yisrael Meir Kagan (d.1933) in which he bemoans the existence of public strife between rabbis and Torah scholars. In the course of the letter he talks about the common tendency, especially with regard to religious disputes, for each side to justify their own behavior and to place the entire blame for the dispute on the other side. However, the Chofetz Chaim writes, this a basic error, for even if, in principle, they are indeed correct in their position, it is virtually impossible for a person to engage in such strife without falling into the trap of improper behavior and, even worse, bringing about a grave chillul Hashem (desecration of the honor of God)

In this context, the Chofetz Chaim discusses the tragic deaths of the 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva, for whom we continue to mourn until this day, and he writes:

ואיתא בגמ׳ שעונם היה על שלא נהגו כבוד זה לזה. ועתה נתבונן נא, דהלא רק אונאת דברים הוא׳ והוא רק לאו בעלמא ואין חייב על זה מיתה בידי שמים, ולמה מתו? אלא שעי״ז נסבב הילול ה׳ גדול בעולם שתלמידי חכמים רבים זה עם זה ומבזים התורה ומצותיה לעין כל.

ועל זה אני אומר, מורי ורבותי, למה לא נירא מארזי הלבנון, קדושי עליון, שבודאי היה לכל אחד תירוץ בפני עצמו שאין בו אשם, ועיקר האשם על חבירו ולא עליו, ואפילו הכי אנו רואין שתורתן וקדושתן לא הגינו עליהן ושלטה מדת הדין בכולן.

The Talmud states that their sin was that they did not show proper respect for each other. Now, let us consider this. Their sin was only onaas devarim, which is an ordinary prohibition that does not bear the penalty of death by Heavenly decree. So why did they die [for this sin]? Because, when Torah scholars fight with each other it brings about a great chilul Hashem in the world, bringing public disgrace upon the Torah and its mitzvos.

And on this I say, my teachers and rabbis, how can we not be afraid [to engage in strife] when these (i.e. the students of Rabbi Akiva) Cedars of Lebanon, exalted holy men, each of whom certainly could provide a good explanation to justify their actions, and to place the blame entirely on their fellow and not on themselves, and even so, their Torah and their holiness did not protect them, and the attribute of justice was dominant over all of them.

The Chofetz Chaim is pointing out that as severe as the sin of onaas devarim is, there is an even greater obligation upon Torah scholars to avoid such behavior with each other, for such behavior causes the honor of God and His Torah to be diminished in the eyes of the world.

This was the reason for the unusual object lesson of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was the student of the later students of Rabbi Akiva. In fact, the Talmud (Kiddushin 72b) states that he was born on the day of Rabbi Akiva's death. For the generation after Rabbi Akiva, this lesson was far from a an obvious and simple lesson. They had seen, with their own eyes, how the entire world of Torah had been laid desolate  through the deaths of these great scholars. They fully understood how easy it could be to fall into the trap of strife and discord with their fellow rabbis.

They, in turn, conveyed this message to their students; one of the most prominent of whom was Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi. Thus, for Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, this lesson was literally a matter of life and death, both for his students and for the survival of the Jewish people, for the Jewish people can only survive with the Torah. When it comes to these most basic lessons, we use every technique available to us to continually reinforce and internalize them, so that they become part of our very nature and being.

This story of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi teaches us two profoundly important lessons. On the simplest level, it teaches us of the importance of speaking gently to our fellows, especially for Torah scholars. However, it also teaches us that, when it comes to learning the most basic lessons of Torah and mussar (character development), there is no such thing as a "silly" lesson. Any technique that will help us reinforce these lessons, in ourselves and in our children and students, is valid and legitimate, even if it involves making strange analogies from food.

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Acharei Mos-Kedoshim - The Laws of Sexual Morality: When a Mishpat Appears to be a Chok

The latter portion of parshas Acharei Mos is a list of the various sexual prohibitions. Before it begins the list, the Torah provides an introductory paragraph (Leviticus 18:1-5), which, in five brief sentences, covers several significant themes:

וידבר ה' אל משה לאמר: דבר אל בני ישראל ואמרת אלהם אני ה' אלקיכם: כמעשה ארץ מצרים אשר ישבתם בה לא תעשו וכמעשה ארץ כנען אשר אני מביא אתכם שמה לא תעשו ובחקתיהם לא תלכו: את משפטי תעשו ואת חקתי תשמרו ללכת בהם אני ה' אלקיכם: ושמרתם את חקתי ואת משפטי אשר יעשה אתם האדם וחי בהם אני ה':

And God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the children of Israel, and say to them: I am Hashem your God. You shall not do the actions of the land of Egypt, in which you lived, and you shall not do the actions of the land of Canaan, to which I am bringing you, and you shall not walk in their ways. My laws (mishpatim) you shall do, and My decrees (chukim) you shall keep, to walk in them; I am Hashem your God. You shall keep My decrees and My laws, for a man shall do them and live by them, I am God.

While we can readily understand why the Torah would stress the importance of not imitating the ways of the Egyptians and Canaanite nations in its introduction to the sexual prohibitions, there are a number of less obvious themes stressed in this paragraph which require explanation.

Perhaps the most obvious is the repeated emphasis on the identity of God as the Commander of these laws. This, of course, is one of the most basic themes of the entire Torah, but why would it require special emphasis at this point?

Another theme that is strongly emphasized is the division of mitzvos into the categories of mishpatim and chukim - i.e. laws that, even if God had not commanded them, we would have needed to establish on our own, and laws which we only know by virtue of Divine revelation. According to the Sages (Yoma 67b and Sifra here), the laws of sexual morality are counted among the mishpatim - the laws accessible to reason - and there doesn't appear to be any obvious reason why the Torah should specifically emphasize this theme at this particular point.

I believe the Torah is actually making an extremely important point in this passage, and one that is of particular relevance to us today. The ultimate authority of all the mitzvos is the fact that they are commanded to us by God. Even though we are often able to recognize the necessity of a given mitzva based on our own understanding, we must never lose sight of the fact that the authority of the mitzvos does not depend on our comprehension of their purpose.

The categories of mishpatim and chukim are categories that exist only from a human perspective. Those laws which we are capable of comprehending are mishpatim, and those laws which we are not capable of comprehending are chukim. From God's perspective, however, there is obviously no such division.

Of course, as with all things, the ability to comprehend the mitzvos will vary from person to person. A mitzva that might be self-evident to one person may well be a total mystery to another. Perhaps even more importantly, mitzvos that might seem self-evident in one culture may be utterly incomprehensible in another.

While this can be seen in many areas, in no area is this more clear than when it comes to sexual morality. As we all know, different cultures often have radically different views on this subject. Moreover, as we have seen in the last century, even within a specific culture attitudes towards sexual morality can undergo radical change in a remarkably short period of time.

The Torah therefore goes out of its way to emphasize, in introducing these laws, that we must never forget Who gave us these laws, and that His laws are not dependent on our comprehension, and they do not change depending on the norms of the people around us. Whether we see these laws - or any specific aspect of these laws - as a mishpat or as a chok, we remain fully obligated to obey them.

To take this a step further, I believe there is an even deeper message in these passages. In the fourth verse of the introduction, the Torah tells us, "את משפטי תעשו ואת חקתי תשמרו ללכת בהם" - "My laws you shall do, and My decrees you shall keep, to walk in them." The words, "to walk in them," appear to be unnecessary and superfluous. The Sages (Sifra here, also cited by Rashi) explain that these words are actually referring to Torah study:

ללכת בהם עשם עיקר ואל תעשם טפלה. ללכת בהם שלא יהא משאך ומתנך אלא בהם שלא תערב בהם דברים אחרים בעולם. שלא תאמר למדתי חכמת ישראל אלמוד חכמת אומות העולם תלמוד לומר ללכת בהם אינך ראשי ליפטר מתוכן

"To walk in them" - Make them primary and not secondary.

"To walk in them" - Your discourse should be exclusively in them and you shall not intermingle other worldly matters with them.

A person should not say, "I have studied the wisdom of Israel, [and now] I shall study the wisdom of the nations of the world," for the Torah says, "To walk in them" - you are not authorized to take leave from them.

The Sages understand these words to be teaching us of the importance and primacy of Torah study, and, in particular, of the importance of not intermingling and equating the study of worldly knowledge or foreign wisdom with the Torah. While this is certainly an important basic concept, once again we have to explain why the Torah chose to stress this topic at this particular point.

To answer this question, I believe we need to return to our previous discussion on the categories of chok and mishpat. Based on what we said above - that the categories of mishpatim and chukim only exist from a human perspective, and that different people will often have very different perspectives on whether a given law is a mishpat or a chok - one might come to the conclusion that the distinction between mishpatim and chukim is entirely subjective. After all, as we just pointed out, there is no real difference between a chok and a mishpat. In either case, our obligation is the same. (Although there may be a difference with regards to perfecting our character, as Maimonides explains in chapter six of his Shemoneh Perakim.)

Nevertheless, the Torah strongly implies that these are actually objective categories. The Torah specifically refers to certain laws as mishpatim and others as chukim. Similarly, the Sages list specific commandments in each category (although there is no comprehensive list categorizing all of the mitzvos). This tells us that mishpatim are not simply those mitzvos that we happen to understand, but those mitzvos that a properly thinking human being will recognize as necessary. If the Torah and Sages categorize a given mitzva as a mishpat, then it is an error to categorize as as a chok, even if we find it incomprehensible. The fact that we find the mitzva incomprehensible, even though the Torah and the Sages say that it is a mishpat, indicates that, on some level, we are not thinking properly.

The failure to be able to properly recognize a mishpat as a mishpat is therefore indicative of a more basic flaw in our mental and spiritual state. As a general rule, the primary cause of such a flaw is the influence of our surrounding environment. As Maimondes writes (Hil. Deos 6:1), "it is the way of human nature for a person to be drawn, in his thoughts and deeds, after his neighbors and friends, and to behave in the manner of the people of his country."

It is for this reason that, specifically with regard to this topic, where the influence of the surrounding culture is particularly powerful, that the Torah emphasizes the importance of studying Torah - pure Torah - for it is only in this way that we can hope to overcome the influence of the surrounding culture so that we can recognize the self-evident immorality of behavior that, in the surrounding society, is seen as perfectly innocuous or even virtuous.

From this we can see that, as important as Torah study always is, to the degree that the surrounding environment becomes morally corrupt, especially with regard to sexual immorality, the more important it is for a Jew to focus on studying Torah with exclusive focus. I once heard in the name of Rav Yitzchak Hutner that in previous generations, a yeshiva was like the mishkan (Tabernacle) in the Jewish camp in the wilderness, for the entire community was a place of holiness and fear of God, and the yeshiva was simply a place of exceptional holiness. In our generation, however, Rav Hutner said that the yeshiva is like Noah's ark, for the outside world is flooded with explicit immorality, and the only place of shelter is within the walls of the yeshiva.

We live today in a time of extraordinary challenge for a Jew, in which the outside world appears to beckon welcomingly, but in which even our most basic morals and beliefs are often viewed with disdain and even condemnation. It can be extraordinarily difficult to avoid adopting many of the basic attitudes of the surrounding culture. It is all too common to find that even Jews who are fully observant have nevertheless internalized many of these basic attitudes, and often feel subtly embarrassed or ashamed of the teachings of the Torah. It is precisely for this reason that, in our generation, it is particularly important for us to stress and support Torah study.

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UPDATE: I address some of these topics further in a follow-up post: The Sexual Prohibitions: Chukim or Mishpatim?

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