This parashah piece by Rabbi Kenigsberg was first published in our Hanassi Highlights on Thursday 20 August. Thanks to Chat GPT you can also read it in Hebrew here.
Parshat Ki Teitzei introduces one of the most puzzling mitzvot in the Torah: the ben sorer u'moreh, the rebellious son.
The Torah describes a young man who refuses to listen to his parents and develops a pattern of excessive eating and drinking. His parents bring him before Beit Din, where the Torah prescribes an extraordinarily severe punishment. The Gemara in Masechet Sanhedrin famously records the opinion that ben sorer u'moreh lo haya v'lo atid lihyot—there never was a rebellious son who met all the Torah's criteria, and there never will be. Why, then, does the Torah teach us these laws? Derosh v'kabel sachar—study them and receive reward.
Interestingly, the Gemara makes the same claim regarding two other unusual areas of halacha: the ir hanidachat, an entire city led astray into idolatry, and nigei batim, the appearance of tzara'at on the walls of a house. Yet in each case, the Gemara also records a dissenting opinion. There were Sages who insisted that these cases could indeed occur.
The Chatam Sofer finds an important lesson within this
disagreement. Sometimes the greatest danger begins precisely when we convince
ourselves: "It could never happen." A parent who believes that his or her child could never lose
their way may stop noticing the warning signs. A community convinced that
serious problems could never develop within it may fail to recognise the cracks
when they first appear. The assumption that something is impossible can itself
prevent us from taking the steps necessary to ensure that it remains so.
Perhaps this explains why the Torah teaches us laws which,
according to some opinions, were never actually applied. Derosh v'kabel
sachar does not simply mean that we receive reward for the theoretical
study of Torah. The study itself may help ensure that the situation never
arises. By contemplating where things can lead, we become more sensitive to
where they begin.
The same theme appears at the end of our parsha. The Torah
commands us regarding Amalek: "Zachor... lo tishkach" —"Remember... do not
forget." Memory guards against complacency. What happened before cannot
simply be dismissed as belonging to another time or another generation.
This message takes on particular significance during Chodesh
Elul. The work of Elul begins with honest self-examination. It is very easy to
recognise weaknesses in other people. It is harder to acknowledge that we
ourselves may have habits that need changing, relationships that need repairing
or areas of our religious lives that have gradually become weaker.
The words "It could never happen to me" are comforting, but they can also be dangerous. Elul asks us to replace them with a different question: Could it be happening already, in ways that I have simply stopped noticing?