Shabbat Shuva: Not Just Empty Words

We are reaching the end of Sefer Devarim. This week we read parashat Vayelech and next week Ha’azinu, the last of the weekly Shabbat readings of this book. Looking through Sefer Devarim as a whole, our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger takes a fresh view of the word that gives this Sefer its name.

There is real symmetry to Mishneh Torah, this collection of Moshe’s last words to our people between the beginning and end of this Sefer. The first verse begins with words and the root דבר:

אֵ֣לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֗ים אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֤ר מֹשֶׁה֙ אֶל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל בְּעֵ֖בֶר הַיַּרְדֵּ֑ן בַּמִּדְבָּ֡ר בָּֽעֲרָבָה֩ מ֨וֹל ס֜וּף בֵּֽין־פָּארָ֧ן וּבֵֽין־תֹּ֛פֶל וְלָבָ֥ן וַחֲצֵרֹ֖ת וְדִ֥י זָהָֽב׃

These are the words that Moses addressed to all Israel on the other side of the Jordan, through the wilderness, in the Aravah near Suph, between Paran and Tophel, Laban, Hatzerot, and Di Zahav.

The Torah marks the conclusion of Ha’aziunu with three unusual and redundant pesukim (Deut. 32:45-47):

וַיְכַ֣ל מֹשֶׁ֗ה לְדַבֵּ֛ר אֶת־כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה אֶל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

And when Moses finished reciting all these words to all Israel,

 

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֲלֵהֶם֙ שִׂ֣ימוּ לְבַבְכֶ֔ם לְכׇ֨ל־הַדְּבָרִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֧ר אָנֹכִ֛י מֵעִ֥יד בָּכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם אֲשֶׁ֤ר תְּצַוֻּם֙ אֶת־בְּנֵיכֶ֔ם לִשְׁמֹ֣ר לַעֲשׂ֔וֹת אֶת־כׇּל־דִּבְרֵ֖י הַתּוֹרָ֥ה הַזֹּֽאת׃

He said to them: Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe faithfully all the terms of this Teaching.

כִּ֠י לֹא־דָבָ֨ר רֵ֥ק הוּא֙ מִכֶּ֔ם כִּי־ה֖וּא חַיֵּיכֶ֑ם וּבַדָּבָ֣ר הַזֶּ֗ה תַּאֲרִ֤יכוּ יָמִים֙ עַל־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אַתֶּ֜ם עֹבְרִ֧ים אֶת־הַיַּרְדֵּ֛ן שָׁ֖מָּה לְרִשְׁתָּֽהּ׃ 

 

For this is not a trifling thing for you: it is your very life; through it you shall long endure on the land that you are to possess upon crossing the Jordan.

 In these three verses Moshe uses the root דבר six times. It is unclear from context if each one refers to the same thing, different things, perhaps to the entire Torah, solely Sefer Devarim, maybe to certain specific admonitions he related that particular day – or to all, or none, of the above. Moreover, there seems to be no major commentary on these verses that provides clarity.

 This week is Shabbat Shuva. Perhaps it should more appropriately have been called Shabbat Teshuva – as it is the Shabbat of the Ten Days of Repentance.  However, it receives its name from the special Haftarah that we read – “Shuva Yisrael” from Hosea 14.

 Most people are familiar with the opening verse:

שׁ֚וּבָה יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל עַ֖ד ה אֱלֹק-ֶ֑יךָ כִּ֥י כָשַׁ֖לְתָּ בַּעֲוֺנֶֽךָ׃

Return, O Israel, to the ETERNAL your God, For you have fallen because of your sin.

However, it is the second verse that perhaps provides a key to understanding the enigmatic words in the verses we quoted and, in turn will reflect back and provide us with a deeper understanding of the teshuva process. The verse reads: 

קְח֤וּ עִמָּכֶם֙ דְּבָרִ֔ים וְשׁ֖וּבוּ אֶל־ה 

Take words with you, and return to God.

What are those words? There is that word “devarim” again.  Is this somehow all connected? Is there an interpretation or unifying theme that can help us understand this within the context of Moshe’s phraseology which may then help us reach a higher teshuva?

Moshe said that the words, the “devarim”, are not a “davar rek,” not empty. Rashi interprets this as follows:
 

There is not one empty (ריק i.e., superfluous) word in the Torah that, if you properly expound it, has not a grant of reward attached to it for doing so. You can know this, for so did our Rabbis say: It states (Genesis 36:22) “And Lotan’s sister was Timna”; (Genesis 36:32)

In other words, there are Jews who contain, have heard, have studied, have learned all, or close to all of the Torah. They are Jews who are “Kol haDevarim” Jews. They bring their bountiful “Devarim” and return to Hashem. It is easy for them; they approach confidently - have little to be concerned about.

 But unfortunately, there are many or our co-religionists who have not only not paid attention to the entire Torah – they have heard, perhaps, only a fraction of it. Maybe only a phrase or two, the equivalent of the words: “And Lotan’s sister was Timna”.  For one, it was reciting one “Shema Yisrael”.  For another, it was answering a single Amen to a mourner’s kaddish when they attended a funeral. For yet another, maybe it was sitting at one’s grandparents’ seder and eating matzah.

If any Jew combines that one word, that one experience, with a step or a thought toward teshuva, then, as we read in the very next pasuk: 

אֶרְפָּא֙ מְשׁ֣וּבָתָ֔ם אֹהֲבֵ֖ם  נְדָבָ֑ה                                                                                                             

I will heal their affliction. I will take them back with love.

Devarim is unique, a Jewish king must write this book and keep it with him at all times. All of the Jews – men women and even infant children – gathered as a nation every seven years to hear it read aloud.   Even today some have the minhag to read the complete sefer on the eve of Hoshana Rabbah. Perhaps it is not solely because of its contents. Instead, maybe it is because its very name reminds us that every single Jew is a davar and not a davar rek. If every Jew can hold on to his or her davar and  bring it to Hashem – it would change the world!

Torah and History

Rabbi Wein ztz'l was renowned for his perspicacious comments on the State of the Jewish Nation and how important it is for us to learn the lessons of the past when boldly facing our future. The following post has been composed as a perspective on history in Rabbi Wein's honor, by Rabbi Steven Ettinger.

I am writing this piece three weeks after the funeral of our esteemed and beloved Mara d’Atra, Rabbi Wein. The day following this Shabbat we will be gathering to mark his sheloshim. I am limiting myself to just those two adjectives—esteemed and beloved—as there is a nearly endless fount of words and phrases that could be used to describe his accomplishments, abilities and impact. Like many of you, I attended eulogies, read articles about his life, listened to podcasts and viewed videos—entirely fitting insofar as these are all media that he mastered in order to communicate his teachings to millions.

So many others are better positioned to appreciate his essence and have a more intimate awareness of it that I will not even attempt to write anything about him. Instead, I will share a thought about this parashah of which Rabbi Wein, as a man of history, would most likely have been aware—and which I am sure he would certainly have appreciated.

The most noteworthy part of this parashah is the tochachah, the fearsome curses that would befall our people if they did not follow their covenant with Hashem (these curses have, in fact, befallen us, down to the most minute and sordid detail).

It is perplexing that, after forty years in the midbar and on the precipice of entering the Land of Israel, Am Yisrael would be subjected to having to hear and accept such a litany of horror. After all, their own parents were condemned to die as the result of a single sin. One midrash describes how, each year on Tisha b’Av, the entire nation dug graves and slept in them. Those who rose the next day knew they were spared, at least for another year. Thus they truly understood the consequences of failing to heed the word of God.

But the curses in our parashah were not directed at that particular generation: they were projected out towards history, and to a specific era of history.

This is the interpretation of a particularly shocking interpretation revealed by the Vilna Gaon. He declares that Sefer Devarim corresponds to the sixth millennium of world history. There are ten parshiyot in Devarim and each corresponds to a particular century (Nitzavim-Vayelech count as one). For example, Devarim corresponds to the years 1240-1340 (5,000-5100), Va’etchanan to 1340-1440 (5100-5200), etc. The years 1840-1940 would equate to Ki Savo – years filled with pogroms, the upheaval of World War I and the rise of Hitler and the Holocaust.

Of course, the Holocaust continued for five more years. These are alluded to in the parshiyot of Nitzavim-Vayelech which is our present era 1940-2040:

וַיִּחַר־אַ֥ף ה בָּאָ֣רֶץ הַהִ֑וא לְהָבִ֤יא עָלֶ֙יהָ֙ אֶת־כׇּל־הַקְּלָלָ֔ה הַכְּתוּבָ֖ה בַּסֵּ֥פֶר הַזֶּֽה׃

וַיִּתְּשֵׁ֤ם ה מֵעַ֣ל אַדְמָתָ֔ם בְּאַ֥ף וּבְחֵמָ֖ה וּבְקֶ֣צֶף גָּד֑וֹל וַיַּשְׁלִכֵ֛ם אֶל־אֶ֥רֶץ אַחֶ֖רֶת כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּֽה׃

Hashem’s anger flared against the land to bring against it the entire curse that is written in this book. And Hashem, removed them from their land with anger and wrath and great fury and he cast them to another land, as this very day.

It should be noted that the gematria of בְּאַ֥ף וּבְחֵמָ֖ה וּבְקֶ֣צֶף גָּד֑וֹל is the same as הפתרון הסופי, the final solution!

Our Torah is not a history book. Our Torah is history. While we have lost perhaps the greatest guide to viewing and appreciating Torah in this light, we can honor his legacy by continuing to appreciate how the knowledge of our Nation’s past enhances our learning and our perspective on Hashem’s plans for His world.

Learning to Read the Torah

An inquiring mind will pick up items of information from wherever they may be found. But what are the lessons one can learn from them--and what is the yardstick by which their veracity and usefulness may be measured? Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger shares this answer with us:

While describing his early yeshiva years in Teach Them Diligently (p. 21), Rabbi Wein ztz’l fondly recalled what he learned in ninth grade from Rabbi Mendel Kaplan. Along with Talmud, this famed disciple of the Mir Yeshiva and Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman taught his young student “how to actually read the newspaper, spotting its unintended lessons in life.” Undoubtedly, these were lessons in how to distinguish truth from falsehood, how to remain steadfast to Torah values in a world that celebrated vanity and immorality, and how to understand proper use of political power in contrast with its abuse.

Today’s newspapers and news media are not the information sources that existed in the late 1940s. Now, they report opinions, not facts. Reporters are biased and not objective. There is no longer such thing as verifying sources – there are no standards of truth.

The Torah, of course, is a primary unimpeachable source. The Torah is truth. The Torah is unbiased. Finally, the Torah is eternal. Thus the Torah should be the contemporary global news source – 24-hour – six day - TNN (Torah News Network). The key, perhaps, is only learning to read/interpret it.

Many (certainly those in the media and who appear or attempt to shape public opinion) are heretics or sceptics. They do not believe any of statements made in the previous paragraph regarding our Torah.  They would claim that the Torah is a 3,000 years old manuscript, likely a work of fiction, written in ancient times and completely irrelevant for a modern enlightened society.  They would certainly scoff at concepts like those found in parshat Shofetim: worshiping trees, witchcraft and sorcery, talking to the dead, false prophets allowing killers to flee from avenging family members, breaking a calf’s neck, etc.

However, this parsha is perhaps the penultimate example of the Torah as today’s media source. Nearly every significant story that we can find in our daily news, regardless of topic or discipline, has its roots and more – perhaps its entire arc –in its verses.

The parsha opens with the requirement to establish a justice system and the overriding imperative to pursue righteousness (“tzedek tzedek tirdof”). This prescription is so intense that it is stated as a continuing condition for remaining in the Land of Israel. Looking closely, these pesukim are today’s stories of judicial reform, of the trial of political leaders and of activist courts both here and abroad.

We know how miserly the Torah is with words. Yet in our parsha there is significant redundancy. The word tzedek appears three times in these three verses. Hashem repeats the phrase, “that Hashem has given you” referencing the Land of Israel, twice in these verses. Ramban translates tzedek here as truth and peace. If we commit to unbiased truth and a desire for peace among our people, then these stories become footnotes.

The next topic is the ashera tree that was worshipped as an idol. This seems incomprehensible to our modern sensibilities. Yet how many hundreds of millions “worship” their “Apples.” How many hours a day are their attentions absorbed and subsumed by the content on these devices. More drastic – and alarming – how many of our youth are influenced to the point of experiencing record levels of depression (and epidemic numbers of teen suicides), lower academic achievement levels, behavioral issues, not to mention issues with gender and sexuality. How many headlines and articles are devoted to these topics and can be attributed to this ashera?

Let’s jump forward to another headline, leaders and elections. In Gaza there is a leadership vacuum. In New York they may soon hail the “new generation” leader, the future of American politics -- an antisemitic communist. In Israel, of course, who the Prime Minister is or should be may be the most polarizing issue of all.

This parsha has the only direct commandments regarding leadership – the commandments regarding the Jewish king. It is interesting to note that there is no commandment to anoint one – but there can be a king IF the people request one. More interesting is that we find only two positive commandments, only two tasks that a Jewish king is commanded to perform (in contrast with things he is forbidden to do). He must (i) write a “sefer Torah” and (ii) gather the nation once every seven years to read the Torah to them. Bottom line, the purpose of a Jewish leader is to set an ethical example – one of universal values, God’s values – and to serve the people, not himself or his vanity or ego or pocketbook.

There are so many others, witchcraft and bone reading, cities of refuge, false prophets, the rules of war, ecology, etc. However, let us conclude with another mitzvah that seems so superstitious – that it could easily subject our religion to ridicule – eglah arufah. How strange is this: someone randomly finds an unidentified corpse and no-one knows who killed him. The elders then come out and determine (through precise measurement) which city was nearest. The representatives of that city must take a calf and perform a ceremony involving breaking its neck in order to absolve themselves from sin- on account of the blood that was shed.

How many of today’s stories involve violence and bloodshed? In the newsroom, the bloodier the better. How many murders and assaults? How many gunmen opening fire in shopping centers and schools and stadiums? How many crime-related killings? How many innocent victims of terror and war world-wide.

If mankind could only value life so much that they could gather and regret and have a solemn ceremony for the death of a man they cannot even identify.  If humanity could ask forgiveness for the loss of a single life and ask Hashem to remove guilt for this death – because this is “doing what is right in the sight of Hashem,” then mankind might only be reading the Torah and there would be no news. That day will come – that is the day Moshiach comes.

One day -- and another

Why were we forty years in the desert before entering our Promised Land? We all know what the Torah tells us -- or do we? Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger challenges our reflex answer to this well-known question

If you were to ask most anyone with basic knowledge of the narrative of the Five Books of Torah why the Children of Israel wandered in the desert for 40 years, they would most likely answer that it was because Hashem punished them for despairing over the negative report of the spies. Hashem condemned them to sojourn one year for each day that the spies scouted in the Holy Land.  This is written in black and white in the text. 

However, in Parshat Eikev Moshe provides a completely different and quite strange answer, one that is repeated, presumably for emphasis, twice in quick succession!  Hashem forced them to travel forty years in the desert:

לְמַ֨עַן עַנֹּֽתְךָ֜ לְנַסֹּֽתְךָ֗ לָדַ֜עַת אֶת־אֲשֶׁ֧ר בִּֽלְבָבְךָ֛ הֲתִשְׁמֹ֥ר מִצְוֺתָ֖ו אִם־לֹֽא׃

וַֽיְעַנְּךָ֮ וַיַּרְעִבֶ֒ךָ֒ וַיַּאֲכִֽלְךָ֤ אֶת־הַמָּן֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר לֹא־יָדַ֔עְתָּ וְלֹ֥א יָדְע֖וּן אֲבֹתֶ֑יךָ לְמַ֣עַן הוֹדִֽיעֲךָ֗ כִּ֠י לֹ֣א עַל־הַלֶּ֤חֶם לְבַדּוֹ֙ יִחְיֶ֣ה הָֽאָדָ֔ם כִּ֛י עַל־כׇּל־מוֹצָ֥א פִֽי־יְהֹוָ֖ה יִחְיֶ֥ה הָאָדָֽם׃

In order to test you by hardships to learn what was in your hearts: whether you would keep the divine commandments or not. [God] subjected you to the hardship of hunger and then gave you manna to eat, which neither you nor your ancestors had ever known, in order to teach you that a human being does not live on bread alone, but that one may live on anything that ה decrees.(Deut 8:2-3).

הַמַּאֲכִ֨לְךָ֥ מָן֙ בַּמִּדְבָּ֔ר אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹא־יָדְע֖וּן אֲבֹתֶ֑יךָ לְמַ֣עַן עַנֹּֽתְךָ֗ וּלְמַ֙עַן֙ נַסֹּתֶ֔ךָ לְהֵיטִֽבְךָ֖ בְּאַחֲרִיתֶֽךָ׃

Who fed you in the wilderness with manna, which your ancestors had never known, in order to test you by hardships only to benefit you in the end (Deut 8:16).

In other words, they wandered in the desert for forty years not because of a sin but so Hashem could test them by feeding them manna!  This almost sounds absurd.

For a question that seems so big, there is a dearth of commentary. Only Ramban provides a detailed explanation of this test of the Manna.

כִּי הָיָה נִסָּיוֹן גָּדוֹל לָהֶם שֶׁלֹּא יָדְעוּ עֵצָה לְנַפְשָׁם וַיִּכָּנְסוּ בַּמִּדְבָּר הַגָּדוֹל לֹא מְקוֹם לֶחֶם וְאֵין בְּיָדָם כְּלוּם מִן הַמָּן, אֲבָל יָרַד דְּבַר יוֹם בְּיוֹמוֹ וְחַם הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְנָמָס וַיִּרְעֲבוּ אֵלָיו מְאֹד. וְכָל זֶה עָשׂוּ לִשְׁמֹר מִצְוַת הַשֵּׁם לָלֶכֶת כַּאֲשֶׁר יְצַוֶּה. וְהַשֵּׁם הָיָה יָכוֹל לְהוֹלִיכָם בְּדֶרֶךְ הֶעָרִים אֲשֶׁר סְבִיבוֹתֵיהֶם, אֲבָל הֱבִיאָם בַּנִּסָּיוֹן הַזֶּה כִּי מִמֶּנּוּ יִוָּדַע שֶׁיִּשְׁמְרוּ מִצְוֹתָיו לְעוֹלָם:

 [The manna itself] was a great trial to them. They did not know what counsel to adopt for themselves when they entered the great wilderness, a place of no food, and they had none of the manna [in reserve because it could not be stored from day to day] but each day’s portion came down on its day, and as the sun waxed hot, it melted, although they hungered mightily after it. All this they did to keep the commandment of G-d, to follow as He commanded. Now G-d could have led them through the [populated] cities that were around them, but instead He brought them into this trial [of never having any food in reserve] for He knew that as a result [of this experience] they would keep His commandments forever.

Let us return to that “black and white” text that implies the forty years was punishment for the sin of the spies. The language used (Numbers 14:34) י֣וֹם לַשָּׁנָ֞ה י֣וֹם לַשָּׁנָ֗ה is a bit unusual. It is repetitive, doubled. Writing the phrase once would have been enough.  A number of commentaries (i.e., the Kli Yakar) explain that one is for that moment – that generation – and one to prophesize that there will be one day of suffering, Tisha B’Av eternally set aside for crying and pain because of their sin.

However, in light of how Moshe connects the forty-year wandering in the midbar to the manna, perhaps the repetition of י֣וֹם לַשָּׁנָ֞ה foreshadows that their task was not to earn forgiveness for their sin but to exhibit steadfastness in faith in the face of ongoing adversity.

If we interpret this correctly, Moshe is saying that the forty years was preordained.  It had less to do with their despairing over the spies and much more to do with Hashem wanting to be assured that the Jewish nation could withstand daily hardship and remain committed to His commandments. Extrapolating from this, the fact that we have been afflicted with (and continue to experience) so many calamities and intense hatred and have nevertheless endured is simply a continuation of this trial – through the centuries we have merited Divine protection (our manna) but must continuously prove steadfast in our worthiness to remain his Chosen People.

Ultimately, there is another “day” that is a constant test that we not simply hope, but are promised, will be לְהֵיטִֽבְךָ֖ בְּאַחֲרִיתֶֽךָ for our benefit in the end. Every day, like the test of the manna falling, as a fundamental element of our belief as Jews we must proclaim regarding the Mashiach: “We await him that he may come any single day.”  אֲחַכֶּה לּוֹ בְּכָל יוֹם שֶׁיָּבוֹא. May today be that day!

Words Speak Louder Than Actions

From the moment God called to him from the Burning Bush, the life of Moshe Rabbenu was a counterpoint, a fugue composed of words and deeds. In this perceptive piece, Rabbi Steven Ettinger shows exactly how this is so.

Perhaps the five most ironic words of the Torah are those that open the Book of Devarim: אֵ֣לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֗ים אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֤ר מֹשֶׁה֙ (“These are the words that Moshe spoke”).  Of the five books of the Torah, nearly one complete book is comprised the orations of Moshe – his spoken words to the gathered nation. This is the same man who tried to refuse the Divine mission to lead the Jews out of Egypt by claiming: לֹא֩ אִ֨ישׁ דְּבָרִ֜ים אָנֹ֗כִי גַּ֤ם מִתְּמוֹל֙ גַּ֣ם מִשִּׁלְשֹׁ֔ם גַּ֛ם מֵאָ֥ז דַּבֶּרְךָ֖ אֶל־עַבְדֶּ֑ךָ כִּ֧י כְבַד־פֶּ֛ה וּכְבַ֥ד לָשׁ֖וֹן אָנֹֽכִי׃ (“I am not a man of words, not today or yesterday or from whenever you have spoken to your servant as I am slow of mouth and slow of tongue”).

We can add other elements of irony as we consider this phrase and its bold association of words and speech with Moshe:

1. We view Moshe as the instrument of our salvation from Egypt. He was the miracle worker.  He spoke with Pharaoh and confronted him time after time (another irony – the man who had hard speech כְבַד־פֶּ֛ה confronted the man with the hard heart כְבַד־לב). Yet, on the one night throughout the ages that we experience and commemorate the Exodus, we only mention Moshe once and proclaim: וַיּוֹצִאֵנו ה מִמִּצְרַיִם. לֹא עַל־יְדֵי מַלְאָךְ, וְלֹא עַל־יְדֵי שָׂרָף, וְלֹא עַל־יְדֵי שָׁלִיחַ, אֶלָּא הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא בִּכְבוֹדוֹ וּבְעַצְמוֹ  (“and He took us out of Egypt, not with an angel, and not with an intermediary, but HKB”H Himself”).

2. Moshe is renowned as the one who presented our people with the tablets – twice in fact (A relief portrait of Moshe is on display the chamber of the US Congress as he is celebrated as the one who brought down the law that underlies the American system of government).  The first set was fashioned by Hashem, which Moshe broke during the “chet ha’egel” but it was the second set that Moshe carved himself that endured. The luchot are inscribed with the iconic “aseret hadibrot,” the Ten Commandments. However, the Torah never uses this phrase, they are never referred to as “dibrot.” Instead, as stated in Ex. 20:1: וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר אֱלֹקים אֵ֛ת כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה לֵאמֹֽר. They, are דְּבָרִ֥ים -- words spoken by Hashem but NOT spoken by Moshe! Thus, as with the Exodus itself, Moshe is seemingly placed on the side.

3. Moshe did, in fact, employ his oratory skills one time on behalf of the Jewish People to stave off their destruction – after they sinned with the Golden Calf. However, at perhaps an equally crucial juncture, he remained silent and did not speak. The spies returned with their unfavorable report and the Jewish nation accepted it and despaired. This resulted in the horrific punishment of the deaths of the entire generation over the next forty years. Calev and Yehoshua give an impassioned plea to convince the people to go and inherit the land. The Torah tells us that Moshe, however, remained silent and that all he did was: וַיִּפֹּ֥ל מֹשֶׁ֛ה וְאַהֲרֹ֖ן עַל־פְּנֵיהֶ֑ם לִפְנֵ֕י כׇּל־קְהַ֥ל עֲדַ֖ת בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃, he (and Aaron) merely conceded, they fell to their faces before the masses.

How is it that, as we have explained, three books of the Torah seem to relegate Moshe to a secondary role, yet the fifth book provides him with a “soapbox” to recast the narrative (and many of the laws) to such an extent that that it is described as Mishneh Torah – a second  or re-telling of the Torah? But this time it is all in Moshe’s “words” and they are entirely from his perspective.

So why is it that the prime/original version in many ways is so different from the one in Devarim? Perhaps the key to the answer is in those same “ironic” opening words, the very fact that Moshe is now speaking words. Despite that fact that Moshe previously protested his role and denied the mantle of responsibility, he is now performing the task that Hashem demanded of him. Until he accepted it, he was, in a sense, suppressed.

Let us quickly contrast his past and present. At the Exodus he did not want to be a man of words, he preferred to act (as when he killed the Egyptian), so he was excluded from the Haggadah. At Sinai, after forty days, he acted – he destroyed the tablets and then he physically fashioned the second set as a remedy – so he is disassociated from the spoken element – the “aseret devarim.” He is successful in saving Am Yisrael from the sin of the Golden Calf when he uses words, but he does not save them from the sin of the spies when he falls down and does not use his words. Finally, and perhaps the ultimate proof in this pattern – he receives his drastic punishment when he takes an action and hits the rock instead of using his words and speaking to it.

This final chastisement is Hashem telling Moshe that this punishment is fair because it represents the cumulative result of all his past failures. Ironically, as the time comes for Am Yisrael to cross over into Eretz Yisrael they now require a leader who is a man of action – Yehoshua. He led the army to battle against Amalek, he tried to encourage the people to rise and go into the land despite the report of the spies, he would battle against the nations of Canaan.

Moshe was our greatest leader, our greatest teacher and our greatest prophet. When he understood that his task was to influence Am Yisrael then and for all future generations with his words, he was given the opportunity to speak and to set out his version and vision of the Torah – of a society of Torah, of a life of Torah and of a future of Torah. These are his words – of course not simply through his mouth but, “al pi Hashem!”

Tisha b’Av: My Moment of Anger

Should Tisha b'Av be just a time for sorrow and repentance for us, or is there room for more? I n this revealing piece, our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger describes the powerful feeling of anger he experienced one year when preparing forTisha b'Av--and how he dealt with it. 

In previous blog posts, I have tried not to write in the first person. Meaning, I have avoided sharing my own perspectives or reflections. However, Tishah b’Av is an intensively personal day. Yes, it is a day of national mourning. More accurately, THE day of national mourning. However, one must feel the sadness and pain personally. If one does not, our sages say that he will not merit seeing the rebuilding of the Temple and the restoration of its glory.

We are different every yea,r so we bring different baggage with us into Tisha b’Av. When we sat on the ground on Tisha b’Av 2024, after experiencing the horrors of October 2023, after visiting the homes of friends who lost loved ones either that day or during the war that followed, or simply because we ourselves had experienced what it meant to be threatened on an existential level—just like the many individual Jews and Jewish communities described in the kinot—it was very hard to control our emotions. We were not recounting history; we were a part of it. It was similar to the words we recite on Seder night – “it was as if we, ourselves were leaving Egypt.”

Rather than dwelling on last year, I want to reach back many years ago to a particular summer when I spent a great deal of time reading the kinot in the weeks leading up to Tisha b’Av and examined the historical background of the events described. Most of us (especially members of this Beit Knesset who have had the privilege of listening to Rabbi Wein’s lectures and reading his books) are likely well versed in the unfortunate fates of our forebearers at the time of the destruction of the Temples at the hands of the Babylonians and the Romans, of the massacres during the Crusades, of the Spanish Inquisition, of the pogroms in Europe and, of course the Holocaust.

As I dug deeper, there are narratives, especially from the time of the destruction of the Batei Mikdash, that describe the causes—why we as a people deserved the horrible punishment and this long period of exile. There are also hums, quiet undertones, of several themes that are there to give us some consolation: that Hashem mourns with us, that we bear responsibility but that we can take corrective action, that this suffering—this long exile—will end, and that there will be a glorious restoration and great joy.

However, the more I read, as more and more pages turned, as decades and centuries passed, as there was more and more and more death and suffering – the inevitable questions that swirled in my head (why so much death, what did we really do to deserve this, when will this end?) gave way to something very different.

My intellection curiosity and my emotional sadness was replaced with something much more visceral: I became ANGRY. I hesitate to admit this, but I actually became ANGRY at Hashem. How many of His children must die to expiate whatever sins the Jewish people

committed over 2,000 years ago? How much time must pass?

If His condition is that we must all repent or become “shomer Torah u’mitzvot,” there are two ways to look at this: On one hand, and I do not mean to be a naysayer (but let’s be realistic) it ain’t gonna happen! We are too spread out, the nature of modern society is too free, open and diverse and there is unfortunately a lack of guidance and leadership. Without Moshiach/Divine intervention, as an organic whole we are what we are. On the other hand, the glass half full side, there are likely more people studying Torah full time, more yeshivot, more batei knesset, higher standards of kashrut, etc. than any time in Jewish history—and that should count for something!

Bottom line, why are we still mourning, why are we suffering, what is the galut accomplishing, what lessons are we being taught, what more can we do? We should just throw up our hands and go on strike – perhaps all play Choni HaMe’agel—we are not going to do Tisha b’Av, we are not going to accept His judgement, we are not stepping out of our circles, until He ends this galut. We are ANGRY at Him and we are not going to take it any more.

When I hit this point, I felt a little bad (I made sure I stayed grounded in case any stray lightning bolts appeared) and headed straight to a Rav I respected (Rav Avraham Jacobowitz, who we all lovingly call Rabbi J) to ask him if I was allowed to be angry at Hashem.

Surprisingly, he told me that it was an appropriate emotion for this period of time, because I was angry on behalf of our people. He said that just like Hashem is willing to allow his name to be erased for the water of the sotah, to bring peace to a husband and wife, He can handle some anger when it is expressed as a true emotion on behalf of his people—to champion their cause.

Nevertheless, Rabbi J said, it is a Tisha b’Av emotion. On Tisha b’Av Hashem certainly has compassion for us and, kaveyachol, regrets everything that has befallen us. He knows and understands what we are feeling—very deeply. He also knows that everything that has happened has been according to His plan, just like all that will happen.

As difficult as it may be, may our sadness and anger be calmed by understanding that we are in the hands of One who shares our pain, understands it and in the proper time, will end it.

May this be the year that we see the end of this long galut, the geulah shelemah and the biat Hamashiach.

Malaise and Medicine

The Three Weeks are a time of sadness and introspection for the Jewish people--but, buried within them, there is a message of happiness and positivity for our future. Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger explains:

The Rabbis manipulated the weekly order of Torah readings within the yearly calendar so that select parshiyot are aligned (or nearly aligned) with certain festivals and fasts. A few examples: Miketz or Vayigash are usually read on Shabbat Hannukah, Bamidbar before Shavuot, and Devarim before Tisha b’Av.

Parshat Pinchas is one such reading. In most years it is read on the week following the fast of 17 Tamuz. The sages performed this subtle manipulation, juxtaposing the parsha and the fast, or more accurately, a day that is the gateway to the period of the “bein hametzarim” (the Three Weeks), to convey a deeply comforting message.

If you stop and think about it, we read from Pinchas more often than any other parsha in the Torah. Pinchas contains the details of the musaf offerings for all of the holy days – Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, etc. On every sacred day other than for a regular Shabbat, we take out an extra Torah scroll and read the section corresponding to the offering for that day. Thus, during the very week that as a nation we begin the descent into deep national mourning and sorrow—a generational malaise—we receive a booster shot of joy and hope, a reminder of our best days.

This connection, however, is even more direct. The unique number of holiday days is…20! (Note: we get there as follows: Shabbat – 1, Rosh Chodesh – 1, Pesach mentioned as a 7-day holiday, Shavuot – 1, Rosh Hashanah – 1, Yom Kippur – 1, Succot – mentioned as a 7-day holiday, Shemini Atzeret – 1 – TOTAL – 20). And there are precisely 20 days bridging 17 Tamuz and 9 Av.

This, perhaps, though, is a pollyannish view. Maybe the glass is not half full, but rather half empty. After all, during these three weeks we mourn the fact that we cannot bring these offerings, that we cannot rejoice since we no longer have the Temple. It seems that the sages might be tormenting us rather than consoling and inoculating us.

The key to understanding Chazal may well be a verse in Zechariah (8:19):

כֹּה אָמַר ה צְבָ-אוֹת צוֹם הָרְבִיעִי וְצוֹם הַחֲמִישִׁי וְצוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי וְצוֹם הָעֲשִׂירִי יִהְיֶה לְבֵית יְהוּדָה לְשָׂשׂוֹן וּלְשִׂמְחָה וּלְמֹעֲדִים טוֹבִים וְהָאֱמֶת וְהַשָּׁלוֹם אֱהָבוּ

Thus said GOD of Hosts: The fast of the fourth month, the fast of the fifth month, the fast of the seventh month, and the fast of the tenth month shall become occasions for joy and gladness, happy festivals for the House of Judah; but you must love honesty and integrity.

The Rambam in Hilchot Ta’aniyot (5:9), quoting this pasuk, writes that in the days of Mashiach the four fast days, including 17 Tamuz (the fast of the fourth month) and 9 Av (the fast of the fifth month), will be nullified and will become days of happiness and joy—in other words, holidays. This is likewise prophesized by Yirmiyahu (Jer. 31:12) וְהָפַכְתִּ֨י אֶבְלָ֤ם לְשָׂשׂוֹן֙ “and I will transform their mourning into joy,” and expressed in the Book of Eicha itself (1:15) קָרָ֥א עָלַ֛י מוֹעֵ֖ד “call unto me a holiday.”

In other words, this is not “mere” tradition, it is a matter of Divine promise. Our sages know that these days are destined to be elevated to great heights. This means that they already contain the seeds, the sparks, the potential for this ecstasy. They used parshat Pinchas to place a sign, to point a big finger to these weeks that says to our people while you are despairing reach into your joyful experiences, your Succot, your Pesach, your Simchat Torah and recognize that very soon these solemn days will feel just like those.

עתיד הקב"ה להפוך ט' באב לששון ולשמחה שנאמר כה אמר ה' צבאות לצום הרביעי ולצום החמישי... ולבנות ירושלים הוא עצמו ולקבץ גלויות ישראל לתוכה שנאמר: "בונה ירושלים ה' נדחי ישראל יכנס" (מדרש איכה)

In the future, HKB”H will transform 9 Av to [a day] of joy and happiness…and rebuild Jerusalem Himself and ingather the exiles, as it says, God will build Jerusalem and gather the dispersed.

We are witnessing miracles and great salvation; may He complete this job soon!

"Death is very good!"

 Much is written on the mysterious operation of the parah adumah, the red heifer whose ashes are so important for the restoration of ritual purity--but much less is said about the condition that triggers a need for the parah adumah in the first place: death. Inspired by an apparently cryptic comment in Rabbi Meir's sefer Torah, our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger offers a fascinating insight into a topic that so many are reluctant to address. This is what he has to say:

The purification ritual involving the “Red Heifer” is one that has baffled the wisest of men and the deepest religious thinkers throughout the ages. Somehow, burning a cow, mixing its ashes with water and a few other ingredients and then sprinkling the concoction on an individual who has contracted ritual impurity via contact with a corpse can, following the proper procedure, purify him.

The aspect that has perplexed many, including King Solomon, is the fact that the one who is “sprinkled” becomes pure and the “sprinkler” is rendered impure. Perhaps a more interesting question is this: why does the Torah require a different ritual to cleanse this taint in contrast with the procedure to remove other ritual impurities from an individual (mikveh or mikveh plus korban)? The answer is because this taint involves human death.

When God created the world, for six days He affirms existence by declaring His own work “good.” In so doing, creation “remains in a pure, untouchable beyond” (Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption). The final time that God comments, He does not observe that the result of His handiwork at that moment of time is “good” (tov). Instead, God describes the “all that He made” as “very good” (tov me’od).

The Midrash Rabba, on Genesis 1:31, brings various opinions regarding the statement “very good”: “In the sefer Torah of Rabbi Meir they found, where the words “and behold it was very good” should be, the words “and behold death was good”. Rashi comments on Rabbi Meir’s teaching that death is good because, once dead, man can no longer sin.

Ramban on Genesis 1:31 parses the verse because he finds the word “very” to be superfluous. His initial observation is that God “added this word because He is speaking of creation in general, which contains evil in some part of it.” Thus, He said that it was very good, meaning its me’od is good [thus conveying the thought that even the small part of it which is evil is basically also good]. For Ramban, me’od refers to evil, but he does not yet identify or quantify that evil until he quotes Rabbi Meir’s statement that it is death. However, he qualifies this by commenting:

“[S]imilarly, the Rabbis mentioned, ‘this means the evil inclination in man,’ and ‘this means the dispensation of punishment.’”

Thus, it seems that Ramban, likewise views death as an external environmental force.

Rambam effectively divorces death from the Man-God relationship altogether. In commenting on the words vehinei tov me’od (Look! It was very good), he writes:

“Even death, which appears to constitute a return to nothingness, God considered as something positive, constructive, seeing it is only a prelude to rebirth, albeit sometimes in a different guise than that the previous incarnation. Death is perceived as the result of the ‘nothingness’ which had preceded the universe having become an integral part of this universe. Hence it had become a necessary phenomenon.” (Moreh Nevuchim 3:10).

In other words, God created death so that there could be an ongoing creation. One might perhaps term this as circular reasoning (if God did not terminate the world, there would be no need for a rebirth).  However, this is not circular reasoning; this is God logic – beyond our human comprehension. Regardless, this is universal death and not Man’s or human death. Thus, according to Maimonides, death is likewise a force without a direct relationship with Man. Thus, it is external to Man.

According to Rabbi Dr Norman Lamm, 

“Tov implies efficient functioning.  The creator saw every step in His developing universe ki tov, that it was functioning efficiently, carrying out the telos which He had assigned to it.” (“Good and Very Good’ Moderation and Extremism in the Scheme of Creation” in Tradition, 45:2, 2012).  

According to Lamm, if each component of creation functioned at its maximum efficiency or full potential, chaos would ensue:

 “This is so because the world is an interdependent system rather than a conglomeration of independent parts and a system requires the synergistic coordination of all of its constituent elements.”

Thus, only when each element functions with restraint (tov) can the whole be considered tov me’od.

Lamm explains that an immortal Man, with freedom of will, has the power to exploit any part of creation to its full potential. Death represents a limit and limits are necessary. The analogy he gives is the human body, itself. If cells multiply unchecked, man dies of cancer. Thus, for Lamm, death/mortality is the me’od, the required limit on the effective functioning, the tov, of every other creation. Thus, in this construct death is an integrated component of man and the functioning of the system, but not a part of the God-Man relationship. 

The sources surveyed, from the earliest to the more recent, seem to perceive death as a device or tool used by God, whether to influence later actions (Midrash), or to provide creative or spiritual counter-balance against good (Ramban), or to set up a system of constant creation and recreation (Rambam), or to sustain systemic balance (Lamm). The image that emerges from these Rabbinic sources of the initial conceptualization of death/mortality in Creation, is that of an instrument or process, something detached from Man, one that influences his environment/world, but that impacts him indirectly.

The impure man, tainted by contact with death, is purified by a bare and minimal contact with an external agent – the ashes of the Red Heifer – bound together with “mayim chayim” waters of life. Death influences him, it taints him by contact, and it will eventually claim him. However, the intrinsic message of this elaborate ritual, that stretches over a week, is that he should NOT be consumed by it – he should not become fully submerged in his own mortality.

Torah 24/7 and Connecting the Dates

We are delighted to announce two new book acquisitions for our small but growing Beit Midrash library. Both are gifts generously donated by  one of our more recent members, Steven Ettinger. Steven is a rabbi, a tax lawyer, a family man and an individual who manifests an obvious fascination with every aspect of contemporary Jewish life in the real world—and this is what makes his books so readable.

The first is Torah 24/7: A Timely Guide for the Modern Spirit. If you are looking for a fresh perspective on those parshiyot you have read so often in the past, this work could be exactly what you are searching for. Each chapter reveals, sometimes quite surprisingly, how an incident or experience in the author's life was reflected in or influenced by the parashah of the week. This is proof positive—as if any were needed—that the narratives contained in the Chumash continue to have a real meaning for the life of modern man.

The second, Connecting the Dates: Exploring the Meaning of Jewish Time, is a book that has been cast in an entirely different mold. In it, Steven poses penetrating questions about the role played by time in our lives and in our relationships with man and God. In particular, he asks:

• What is the relationship of the Jewish Holidays to their Fast Days?
  
  
• How do the Jewish ritual practices of circumcision, tefillin and tefillah express the underlying link between the individual s personal life cycle and the life cycle of the Jewish nation?
  
  
• How do the major events in the lives of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs connect to the core of the Jewish life cycle?

 Steven builds upon this foundation and shows how the Forefathers of the Jewish people were also the cornerstones upon which the Jewish holidays are built.

 If the mood takes you, you can even buy these books online for yourself. Torah 24/7 is available here, while Connecting the Dates can be ordered here.