Aug 8, 2025 | Torat Devorah
I beseeched G‑d at that time (3:23)
Moses prayed 515 prayers—the numerical value (gematria) of va’etchanan, “and I beseeched”—to be allowed to enter the Land. The Yalkut Shemini explains: When Moses saw that the decree had been sealed against him, he went and drew a circle and sat inside it, and said: I am not moving from here until You nullify the decree! . . . He then wrapped himself in sackcloth and covered himself with ashes, and stood in prayer and supplication before G‑d until the heaven and the earth and the very laws of creation began to tremble, and said: Perhaps the time has come for G‑d to destroy the world? . . . What did G‑d do at that moment? He announced at every gate of every heaven and at every gate of every court that Moses’ prayer should not be admitted . . . for the voice of Moses’ prayer was like a sword that slices and rips, and which nothing can stop . . . Said Moses to G‑d: If You will not allow me to enter the Land, allow me to [enter] as a beast of the field, which grazes on the grass and drinks water and sees the world that way—let my soul be as one of those! Said G‑d: “Enough!” Said Moses to G‑d: If You will not allow me to enter the Land, allow me to [enter] as a bird that flies in the air to all four corners of the earth to collect its feed, and in the evening returns to its nest—let my soul be as one of those! Said G‑d: “Enough!”
There is none else beside Him (4:35)
Rabbi Binyamin Kletzker, a chassid of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, was a lumber merchant. One year, while he was adding up the annual accounts, he inadvertently filled in under a column of figures: “TOTAL: Ein od milvado (‘There is none else beside Him’).” A fellow chassid admonished him for his absentmindedness. “Don’t you know, Reb Binyamin, that everything has its time and place?” he admonished. “There’s a time for chassidic philosophizing, and a time to engage in worldly matters. A person’s business dealings are also an important part of his service of the Almighty, and must be properly attended to.” Said Rabbi Binyamin: “We consider it perfectly natural if, during prayer, one’s mind wanders off to the fair in Leipzig. So what’s so terrible if, when involved in business, an ‘alien thought’ regarding the oneness of G‑d infiltrates the mind?”
You shall love the L‑rd your G‑d . . . (6:5) The Maggid of Mezeritch expounded on this verse, and asked: how can there be a commandment to love? Love is a feeling of the heart; one who has the feeling, loves. What can a person do if, G‑d forbid, love is not embedded in his heart? How can the Torah instruct “you shall love” as if it were a matter of choice? But the commandment actually lies in the previous verse, “Hear O Israel . . .” Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch explains: The Hebrew word shema (“hear”) also means “comprehend”. The Torah is commanding a person to study, comprehend and reflect upon the oneness of G‑d. Because it is the nature of the mind to rule the heart, such contemplation will inevitably lead to a love of G‑d. If one contemplates deeply and yet is still not excited with a love of G‑d, this is only because he has not sufficiently refined and purified himself of the things which stifle his capacity to sense and relate to the divine. Aside from this, such contemplation by the mind will always result in a feeling of love.
Devorah Abenhaim
Aug 1, 2025 | Torat Devorah
Perhaps the greatest difference between the book of Devarim, which we begin this Shabbat, and the other four books of the Torah is the switch in modality. Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers describe a story as it unfolds. The characters of these books experience these events as they occur in the moment. Not so the book of Devarim. This book begins in a completely different way. Moshe recounts events for which his present audience has no personal memory. Except for Joshua and Caleb, this is an entirely new generation of Israelites. Not one person from the group that stands before Moshe had stood at Sinai, seen the mountain ablaze, and heard God speak out of the fire. The Covenant at Sinai was made with their ancestors, men and women who had just emerged from the experience of slavery and redemption and who faced a completely different set of challenges than the present generation. This audience is a new generation, tasked with the challenges of transitioning from a nomadic people to a nation that builds cities and cultivates a system of agriculture on the land that God had promised their ancestors.
Rabbi David Hoffman of the JTS comments: “Moshe’s goals in this book remain our religious challenges: How do you render a story that happened to other people and make it your story, as meaningful to you as the day it occurred? How do you tell the story of our people’s relationship with God and move a new generation to willfully and passionately enter into this sacred Covenant? How do you make the argument to a generation of Jews that the Jewish community and Torah provide a rich and compelling framework to pursue ultimate questions of meaning? I suggest that the book of Devarim adopts a unique path for the renewal of the Covenant, which after all is the primary purpose of the book (chapters 5–29). No form of the Hebrew root L-M-D (to learn, study, or teach) appears in any book of the Torah other than Devarim, where it appears seventeen times in thirty-four chapters. The experience of learning and teaching is central to the project of Devarim. This verb is used in connection to God teaching the Israelites, Moses teaching the nation and, perhaps most critically, the Israelites themselves teaching Torah—”Impress My words upon your heart . . . and teach them to your children—reciting them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up (Deut. 11:18–19).”
Limud (learning) constitutes the process through which we Jews connect with our history and make these historical stories our personal narratives. Understood in these terms, learning is not simply a means to acquire information. Rather, for the Jew, learning is an active process that is primarily about making meaning. The book of Devarim makes very clear that if we-in our generation-are to develop a personal, rich, and nurturing relationship with God, we must learn and study God’s Torah that reveals God’s aspirations for the world. Study is the means by which we make meaning in our own lives and it is activity whereby the Jew responds thoughtfully to the challenges of our particular age… Moshe’s strength and new-found confidence emerged from his deep belief that he had finally found the path for real religious awakening. The thunder and direct experience of God at Sinai did not work even for the generation of the desert. The book of Devarim creates the possibility that if God’s Presence is to be made manifest in our world, it will be in the words (devarim) of those who pursue with love the Will of the living God.”
Devorah Abenhaim
Jul 25, 2025 | Torat Devorah
The end of this week’s parasha – and thus, the end of the Book of Numbers (Bamidbar) presents a lengthy discussion of the laws regarding the establishment of the cities of refuge (arei miklat) and the inadvertent murderer. What is the relevance of these laws to the conclusion of Sefer Bamidbar? One would have expected this section to appear in the legal portions in Chumash, such as Parashat Mishpatim. (In fact, a brief reference to the cities of refuge does actually appear in Parashat Mishpatim – Shemot 21:13.) Why does the Torah introduce the cities of refuge in our parasha?
Given the context of this section, Rav Yonatan Grossman explains: I would suggest that the presentation of the laws of the inadvertent murderer in our parasha focuses not on the murderer himself, but rather on the ramifications thereof to the LAND. The preceding section deals with the precise borders of the Land of Israel and the method of its distribution among the twelve tribes as well as the Tribe of Levi. In this context, the Torah reminds us that several cities are to be designated for the benefit of accidental killers. It is therefore not surprising that the section concludes: “You shall not defile the land in which you live, in which I Myself abide, for I God abide among the Israelite people” (35:34). This verse forms an appropriate conclusion for the regulations involving the conquest, occupation and distribution of the Land. Nevertheless, the dominating characteristic of this section is clearly its strictly legal quality. In this sense, it differs substantially from the other two discussions of the arei miklat in Chumash. First, let us briefly review the various references to arei miklat in the Torah.
The concept of the city of refuge for inadvertent murderers appears in the Torah for the first time (as noted earlier) very briefly in Parashat Mishpatim: “He who fatally strikes a man shall be put to death. If he did not do it by design, but God lead him to it, then I will assign you a place to which he can flee” (Shemot 21:12-3). We encounter these laws once again in our parasha, in the context of the division of the Land, and lastly in Parashat Shoftim, where the Torah goes through this topic at length (Devarim 19).
Rav Grossman teaches that the function of the arei miklat of Sefer Devarim is clear and straightforward – to provide REFUGE for the murderer from the avenger. That parasha therefore stresses the issues relevant to the murderer’s successful escape and the security afforded to him by the city. Accordingly, the avenger emerges here as a frenzied and erratic vigilant, from whom refuge must be provided. For the same reason, nowhere in Sefer Devarim is there a reference to any legal process associated with the cities of refuge. Residence in the city is simply an option open to the inadvertent murderer for his safety.
Our parasha presents a more novel, less intuitive aspect of the cities of refuge, one of EXILE. It emerges as an integral part of the legal process to be undergone by the murderer, and he therefore does not have the option of leaving. He not only escapes to the ir miklat, but, after he has been acquitted from premeditated murder, the court forcefully returns him to the city, since he did, after all, kill, albeit accidentally. He must remain there until the death of the high priest and may not be released on bail. In this parasha, the avenger fills an official role, that of the court executioner, if warranted. It now becomes clear why in Sefer Bemidbar, as opposed to Sefer Devarim, the laws involving the intentional murderer are intertwined with the procedures involving the accidental killer. A moral complaint is brought against both. Although their punishments understandably differ from one another, both cases appear here as two instances of a similar scenario, and both require penalty and atonement.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jul 18, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, we read the following: “And the Lord spoke unto Moses saying: Pinchas the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron the priest, hath turned My wrath away from the children of Israel, while he was zealous for My sake among them, that I consumed not the children of Israel in My jealousy” (Numbers 25:10-11). We must remember that at the end of last week’s parshah, the Israelites debased themselves and committed harlotry with the daughters of Moab. Pinchas took it upon himself to stab and kill Zimri – an Israelite man, and Kosbi, a Midianite woman who were together engaged in this sinful behavior. The following question is asked on the above verse: Why did the Torah have to give Pinchas’ full genealogy here when it had been recorded only 4 verses previously? The Or Hachayim comments that perhaps the Torah wanted to give his ancestors an honorable mention in this way. Moreover, he explains, it is likely that God wanted to heal the residual bad feeling that might have existed against Aaron who at the time when he made the golden calf had inadvertently become the cause of many Israelites dying prematurely. Now, a grandson of Aaron had come and saved many more Israelites’ lives that Aaron had ever even indirectly caused to be lost. This is why God goes on record saying: “I have not consumed the children of Israel in MY jealousy.” In order to make all this clear, Aaron had to be mentioned by name. We have been told in Tanna de bey Eliyahu chapter 13 that Aaron rehabilitated himself through teaching the Israelites Torah and performing good deeds. From this you see that in the eyes of the Israelites Aaron had been considered as responsible for the death of those Jews at the time of the episode of the golden calf. Therefore, the Torah tells us here that Aaron’s grandson completed this task of Aaron’s rehabilitation posthumously.
The Alshekh gives his point of view on this subject. He teaches that if one goes back to parshat Balak where the deed of Pinchas is recorded (25:7), we read Pinchas saw… arose from amidst the congregation, and took a spear in his hand. Pinchas had reason to fear that just as his cousin Chur, son of Miriam, had died when trying to restrain the people serving the golden calf, so his zealousness too would prove ineffective. Even though his own merit would not be diminished if he died thus on Kiddush Hashem, while engaged in sanctifying the name of God, he was aware that he had the merits of his ancestry going for him. This is why the Torah notes that he saw that he was the son of Eleazar, son of Aaron the priest. The numerical value of the word romach, or spear, equals 248, the same number value as the name Avraham. Pinchas felt that he was armed with the merit of Abraham, and was therefore likely to succeed in his undertaking. After all, Abraham, according to the Midrash, had survived the furnace that Nimrod had thrown him into. It is interesting to note that when Pinchas was born, his own father had not yet become a priest. Priesthood, therefore, could not be bestowed upon him automatically. He therefore decided to risk his life, and armed with the mitzvah of killing Zimri, hoped to wipe out what appeared to be a stain on his character; namely not being a priest though his father was a priest. He was rewarded in that though normally only the actual limb performing a mitzvah is elevated to a higher level, in this case, his entire body was elevated to the level of priesthood. This is why God, at the beginning of the parshah, tells Moses to tell Pinchas that he had indeed achieved such elevation, i.e. that he had conferred merit on his father and grandfather by his courageous, zealous deed. This means that through his deed he had become a new person – as if he had been born to Eleazar ONLY AFTER Eleazar had achieved priesthood himself and Pinchas therefore became a priest due to his father having been a priest.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jul 11, 2025 | Torat Devorah
The Midrash states: “What is the difference between the prophets of the Jewish people and the prophets of the nations of the world? The prophets of Israel forewarned the nations not to transgress. However the prophets of the nations created breaches to destroy mankind so that it should have no connection with the world to come. The prophets of the Jewish people expressed the Attribute of Mercy, while their prophets expressed cruelty. Bilaam, the prophet of the nations, wanted to uproot and destroy an entire nation. This is the reason the Torah tells us the story of Bilaam. It is so that one should understand why there is no longer Divinely inspired people (prophets) among the nations of the world. If the power of prophecy would be given to an individual from the nations, it would be used for destruction, as Bilaam had done. Bilaam, being given prophecy, is the reason the nations of the world cannot claim at the end of time that G’d did not grant them the same opportunity as He had the Jewish people.”
The Torah states when Bilaam was on the way to curse the Jewish people, “G’d’s wrath flared because he was going, and an angel of Hashem stood on the road to impede him. Bilaam was riding on his donkey… The donkey saw the angel of Hashem standing on the road with his sword drawn in his hand….” The Midrash asks, “Why did the angel have a drawn sword in his hand? The angel could have blown upon Bilaam and caused him to die. As we see regarding the destruction of the army of Sancherev. When Sancherev had come upon the Jewish people with millions of troops to destroy Jerusalem and the Temple, the verse states, ‘The angel of Hashem went forth and had smitten the camp of Ashure. He had blown upon them and they dried-up.’ Why did the angel come upon Bilaam with a drawn sword, when he could have simply blown upon him? The angel said to Bilaam, ‘The power of the mouth was given to Yaakov. As the verse states, ‘The voice is the voice of Yaakov and the hands are the hands of Esav.’ It also states regarding the nations of the world, ‘By the sword you shall live…’ But you, Bilaam, took hold of the craft of the Jewish people and came upon them with your mouth (to curse them). Therefore, when I come upon you I shall do so with your craft (the sword).’ This is the reason the angel came upon Bilaam with a drawn sword.”
Rashi cites Chazal who explain that before Balak commissioned Bilaam to curse the Jewish people he had consulted with the Midianites in order to ascertain the secret power of the leader of the Jewish people. They had told him that the power of their leader lies in his mouth, his verbal expression. They therefore summoned Bilaam to counter Moshe, with his power of expression to curse the Jewish people. However, Balak and the Midianites had no understanding of the essence of Moshe’s power. The effectiveness of Moshe’s ability emanated from his unique dimension of spirituality. Moshe had no relevance to evil, as Bilaam had. He was imbued with holiness only to carry out the Will of G’d. The only commonality between Moshe and Bilaam was that both of their expressions emanated from their mouth. Although Bilaam’s curse was lethal, as it had proven to be, it had no relevance to his spirituality; but rather, it was rooted in his evilness/physicality. Chazal tell us that when Moshe had killed the Egyptian in Egypt when he was beating a Jew, he had done so through the enunciation of one of the Names of G’d. His killing of the Egyptian, through verbal expression rather than a physical act, was an indication of the spirituality of Moshe. Bilaam was known for his “evil eye.” Chazal tell us that when Bilaam initially wanted to bless the Jewish people, G’d had said to him, “Do not bless them. They do not need your blessing.” It is as one says to a bee, “We do not need your honey and we do not need your sting.” This is because a blessing that emanates from an evil source is the equivalent of a curse.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jul 4, 2025 | Torat Devorah
“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, ‘You and your brother Aaron take the rod and assemble the community, and before their very eyes order the rock to yield its water. Thus you shall produce water for them from the rock and provide drink for the congregation and their beasts.’ ” – Numbers 20:7-8.
The Torah portion Chukat is long and varied, containing many interesting and dramatic narratives, including strife in the wilderness, the decree that Moshe will not enter the Land, and the deaths of Miriam and Aharon. The beginning of chapter 20 relates the famous story of “striking the rock,” with the resultant terrible decree on Moshe, who was apparently supposed to speak to the rock when the people cry out for water, as in the verse above. Instead, he struck it with his staff, and is told that he will never enter the Land.
There is a fascinating midrash related to what Moshe was ostensibly supposed to do when the people cried out for water, and there were only rocks around them. The late medieval commentator known as the Or HaChaim (from his famous book of that title) quotes an earlier text to which interprets “order the rock” [literally, “speak to the rock before their eyes”] as “study Torah by the rock,” or maybe even to teach Torah to the rock itself! The text says that Moshe should have spoken just “a single paragraph” to the stone. Given that rocks, unlike people, don’t have ears to hear or minds to understand, what could this possibly mean?
Rabbi Neal Joseph Loevinger explains: “The verse itself is clear that Moshe was supposed to speak to the rock, not just whack it with a stick, but the image of studying Torah by- or with- the rock suggests that the better way to get water from a rock is a more meditative approach, rather than frantic action. This is not about a miracle of hydrology, it’s about what it takes to draw out from others something deep and nourishing: first, go to your innermost core, reminding yourself of your deepest ideals and sense of connection. Then, speak words of Torah- that is, words which are grounded in our best selves, our most authentic ethical and spiritual traditions and paradigms. That’s how you draw out something sustaining when the community is “dry” of ideas, hopes, and vision. “Speaking Torah to the rock” can mean: Moshe, if you’re swinging sticks around when the people are scared, go back to your own source of innermost meaning- study some Torah so that you act from a place of spiritual intentionality, not negativity, resentment or anger towards the people. Dealing with human beings- stubborn, stiff-necked and complaining, as all of us are, at least some of the time- often requires a reorientation of our attitude before we can be effective agents of hope and care. Even Moshe had to remember who he was- a teacher, a leader, a lover of Israel, grounded in sacred ideals- before he could give others what they needed. It’s no great failing to want to strike the rock; we fail only ourselves when in haste we forget to slow down and take in Torah and its vision of compassionate humanity.”
The red heifer plays a central role in the process of purifying someone who becomes “tamei”, i.e., spiritually tainted. A Jew becomes tamei when he or she comes into contact with a corpse, and as long as you are tamei you may not enter the Holy Temple in Jerusalem (Bamidbar 19:13,21). However, this condition is treatable. A red heifer is slaughtered and burned, and its ashes are used to create a mystical potion with purifying powers. A kohen sprinkles the contaminated Jew with the red heifer ash mixture and the Jew then returns to a normal state of tahara, i.e. spiritual purity (19:1-12). (Obviously, these laws have been out of use ever since the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE.) This procedure is hard enough to understand, but here’s the clincher: The kohen who administers the sprinkling becomes tamei! The very same process that purifies the contaminated Jew contaminates the kohen (19:21). Several great medieval rabbis independently compiled listings of the 613 biblical mitzvot. But the most innovative of these works is undoubtedly the Chinuch (anonymous, 13th century). Besides the basic listing, the Chinuch also speculates about the meaning and purpose of every mitzvah. This makes for a fascinating blend of law, ethics, and philosophy.When it comes to the red heifer, however, the Chinuch throws in the towel. “Although my heart emboldened me to write hints of the reasons for the other mitzvot… when it comes to this mitzvah my hand goes weak and I am frightened to open my mouth about it at all. For I have seen how our sages of blessed memory wrote at length of its deep mysteries and the vastness of its theme…” (Chinuch, mitzvah 397). Rabbi Yaakov Kamanetzky (1891-1986) questions the Chinuch’s nervous reaction to the red heifer. The Chinuch knew that all mitzvot are ultimately beyond our understanding. Mortals can’t expect to fathom the myriad of divine reasons for mitzvot. Although we certainly do appreciate the beauty and relevance of every mitzvah, we need to remember that we are only dipping beneath the surface of great depths of meaning. As the Chinuch himself admits, his explanations of the mitzvot are no more than surface level interpretations. He never claimed that his suggestions were all there is to it. So why won’t the Chinuch provide us with some insights into the red heifer? If he managed to supply a reason or a message for each of 612 other mitzvot in the Torah, why not finish the job? Rabbi Kamanetzky explains that the Chinuch did not at all give up when it came to the red heifer. He indeed does reveal its message. The red heifer’s message is the very fact that it is completely unknowable. This is a fundamental principle for all of Torah. There comes a point with every mitzvah where we must recognize that our human minds are limited. There is more to this world than we can ever know. There is a spiritual reality.
Devorah Abenhaim
