Aug 24, 2018 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, we learn about war, and the circumstances surrounding it. The parshah begins by stating: When you go to war against your enemies…” (Deuteronomy 21:10). The Or Hachayyim asks why the Torah needed to write this whole introduction when it would have sufficed to write: “when you see an attractive woman among the prisoners, etc…” The whole of verse one seems extraneous to the subject matter under discussion. Furthermore, seeing the Torah did decide to write: “when you go out to war against your enemies, etc.,” why did we need the words “against your enemies?” Against whom does one go to war if not against one’s enemies? He answers that perhaps the reason is to be found in halakhic relaxations that apply to troops in wartime. A woman such as the attractive woman prisoner mentioned here would be totally out of bounds if not for the fact that she was captured in war; the same applies to other relaxations of the halakhah such as the prohibition of eating the hind parts of the pig. This gave rise to the Torah using a different style in this instance. Seeing that the soldier was aware of the halakhic relaxations which are applicable even to Torah law under conditions of war, the Torah was concerned lest some of the soldiers would actually look forward to the battle in order to avail themselves of these relaxations of Torah law. The Torah was keenly aware of this and reminded the soldier that when he goes to war, his only purpose should be to avenge himself on the enemies of the Jewish people, not in order to have an excuse to indulge in things which are normally forbidden. The words “ki tetzeh”, “when you go out”, are a reminder that although you depart from the normal rules of halakhic restrictions when your life is at stake, your mind must concentrate only on the war, on the battle, not on what you consider as the fringe benefits. The reason that the Torah adds the words “against your enemies,”, is to remind you that your enemies are God’s enemies, as we have been told by David in Psalms 139:21: “ O Lord, You know I hate those who hate You, and I loathe your adversaries.” Your entire reason for going to war must be for this sole purpose. If that will be the case, the the Torah’s assurance: “and the Lord your God will deliver them into your hand” will be fulfilled. From verse 1, you may therefore deduce that unless your motivation is the one the Torah expects of you, your success will not be assured.
The Torah tells us to put up preventive safeguards against damage caused by one’s property, as it states in Deuteronomy 22:8: “ If you build a new house, you shall make a fence for your roof, so that you will not place blood in your house if a fallen one falls from it.” The Alshekh explains that the railing on your roof prevents you from becoming indirectly involved should someone fall from your roof. Even assuming that such a fall would not have occurred if the party falling were not in some way guilty, that person’s guilt might not have been sufficient to cause his death, had you not facilitated it by your negligence. Though both vineyard and fields are wholesome, and though you are to plan both, mixing species that do not belong together is something God knows more about than you do. Similarly, the degree of your contribution to someone falling off your roof due to the absence of a railing is beyond your ability to understand.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Aug 17, 2018 | Torat Devorah
This week’s Torah portion and much of the book of Deuteronomy are the Constitution upon which our ancestors established the ancient Land of Israel. Standing on the bank of the Jordan River, Moses declares God’s law and the conditions upon which the people may possess the land. And, like our Constitution, the Torah places great emphasis on Justice. In the opening verses of this week’s portion we read the famous words: “tzedek, tzedek tirdof…”Rabbi Salomon Gruenwald comments that most translations understand the repetition of the word tzedek here as emphasis: “Justice, Justice shall you pursue.” A better translation would treat the second appearance of the wordtzedek as a modifier to the first, as in the phrase just two verses before – “mishpat tzedek” (righteous judgment). Therefore, “Tzedek, tzedek…” means “just justice” or “righteous justice” – that is to say, justice that is attained through just means. But we can’t stop there, the verse continues: “tzedek, tzedek tirdof l’ma’an tikhye vyarashta et ha-aretz asher HaShem Elokekha noten lach.” “Righteous justice shall you pursuein order that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” That is to say, that the ideal of justiceprecedes even the country itself. It means that our very claim to the land is predicated on establishing justice within our borders. Notice all the various ways in which we are beckoned to pursue justice – justice both in outcome and in means. So important is this mandate for justice that even the king of Israel is commanded to review the law continuously. You’ll note that in 17:18, the King of Israel is required to keep a copy of the Torah next to his throne and read it throughout his life. This means to tell us that in a country established upon the principle of Justice, no person is above the law. It means to tell us that before all else, we must put ourideals first.
It is also the month of Elul. The holy Baal Shem Tov taught that during the month of Elul, the KING IS IN THE FIELD. Every one of us can approach Hashem, directly, informally. We don’t need to pass through guarded gates and chambers of inquiry and examination, in order to get to the King. The King is in the field! When you approach “the King” in the field, you approach Hashem, as Hashem whom you, the real inner you, relates to.
Much of our relationships [all kinds] and behaviors have been determined and affected by formality and structure [which to be sure are also very important]. However during the month of Ellul, we are not approaching Hashem through the veils of formality, in which one can hide from one’s inner self. The palace, the guards, the entourage, the grandeur are not there to give definition to your belief in Hashem, and to your relationship with Hashem.
The King is completely approachable; you can discover what Hashem really means to you, in your insides, in your ‘kishkes’. Hashem is in the field to meet you, the real you, to relate to you in the deepest way. It is from this deep encounter that you receive the knowledge, the strength and guidance, and the love to do the fixing of the inner self.
Hashem comes out into the field and is so to speak letting us know “Rachmana leeba ba’ee”– the compassionate One desires the heart! Hashem is longing for a deep personal and intimate connection with us so we should not let Him down.
Aug 10, 2018 | Torat Devorah
Re’eh features the foundational sources of several holidays. Every Jewish holiday is accompanied by basic fundamental questions. The classic example is Pesach, filled with questions such as: Why do we eat matzo? And why four cups of wine? Sukkot’s basic question is why do we celebrate Sukkot when we do? Rabbi Yaakov Baal Haturim, a 14th century Spanish scholar, suggests that we intentionally construct the sukkah, a hut or booth, in the chillier fall season in order to attract attention. He comments that, “Even though He took us out of Egypt on the month of Nissan, He did not command us to make a sukkah at that time, because it is the summer time when people already make sukkot for shade, and therefore if we sat in sukkot then it would not be obvious that we are doing so because it is commanded by the Creator. Rather, we do so in Tishri, during the rainy season, a time when people are leaving their shade-huts and moving indoors, thereby distinguishing that we are building sukkot for the specific purpose of fulfilling the commandment.”
Rabbi Ori Melamed (of Rutger University’s Hillel) explains: ‘In other words, we celebrate Sukkot at the “wrong time.” Perhaps we should be sitting in the sukkah on the night of the Seder. After all, that is when we went out of Egypt. So why do we wait half a year? The answer of the Baal Haturim at first seems strange. To sit in the sukkah in the spring – that would be too easy. Let’s see you sit outside in the cold and rain! That’s serious! Or as my grandmother would say, “It’s no trick to make chocolate mousse from good chocolate cream and eggs. The trick is to make it from breadcrumbs and sugar! Is there perhaps a deeper notion here than merely the idea of challenging ourselves? Sukkot follows the end of summer, filled with outdoor social activities. It also comes at the end of the High Holidays, a time of spiritual elevation and moral improvement. Before we move indoors for the winter, totally sheltering ourselves within our homes, Sukkot comes to teach us the meaning of true shelter inside a home. Looking up in the sukkah, we see heaven as a roof over our heads, and are reminded of a different kind of security in the world than the security of a home with four walls and a locked door. More so, in contrast to our notion of private property and private space, the doors to the sukkah are always open, signifying that our homes should always be open and welcoming to guests. In reality, Sukkot’s occurrence during the rainy and cold fall is not meant to simply make celebrating a more challenging experience. Instead, Sukkot was moved from the spring to the fall in order to give us a timely training seminar in kindness and hospitality. It helps us realize we must always welcome others into our homes and our lives, even when the task is not easily completed. Although Sukkot may still be a little bit away, we at Hillel can still draw valuable principles from the lessons of Sukkot. As we prepare for students returning to campus, we should take the time to reflect and consider how we can better create an atmosphere that truly welcome students into Jewish spaces and invites them to open our doors.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Aug 3, 2018 | Torat Devorah
Parshat Eikev begins with a sentence that for the most part is straightforward, except for the word that gives the Parsha its name. “And it shall come to pass, “Eikev”, because you harken to these ordinances (as a result of your hearing) and observe and keep them, that God will keep his covenant with you.” (Devarim 7:12) There follows a lengthy cataloge of the blessings that will follow obedience: God’s love; the fruitfulness of the people, their land and livestock; good health and the defeat of all enemies – material success and well being (what may be likened to a virtual return to Eden, to the life that existed in the land of Eden, in days of old). Consistent with the apparent sense of the sentence,”Eikev” then is most commonly translated as “because” or “if only.” Other translations of “Eikev” include an emphasis on the Brit (the covenantal aspect of the law), and its attendant obligations, in order for it to be fulfilled. Hence “Eikev” is translated as “in exchange for” or “on account of.”
The mystery of “Eikev,” however, is that its literal translation is “heel.” And the puzzle that has intrigued the biblical commentaries, is why the word “heel” should be used in this context, and with such prominence. What special message lies within the use of “Eikev” in the context of the Parsha? The most familiar explanation is that of Rashi (an acronym for Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, France, 1040 – 1105). Rashi teaches that “Eikev” stresses obedience to those Mitzvot, (those commandments) which a person is inclined to treat lightly. “Even if the lighter commands which a person usually treads on with his heels, which a personal usually treats lightly, you will listen to and obey, THEN G-d will keep His part of the Covenant and deal kindly with you.”
The frame of reference here seems to be those Mitzvot which usually don’t get the coverage they deserve because they are viewed as less important, or less pressing in the eyes of the people.
In order to better understand Rashi’s interpretation, Rabbi Yosil Rosenweig expains: I’d like to refer to the comments of the great leader of the Orthodox Jewish community in the 19th century Germany, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch Zt”l (the righteous should be remembered as a blessing). Rabbi Hirsch explains Rashi’s interpretation in an interesting way: The message of “Eikev” is that we must treat commandments, great or small, with equal care and concern, in the sense that we should give no thought to whether our reward for obedience will be great or small. Rabbi Hirsch elaborates by saying “from time immemorial such arbitrary differentiations between laws that are supposedly ‘more important.’ and those presumed ‘less important,’ particularly between the commandments pertaining to the relationship between man and God and those pertaining to the relationship between man and his fellow man, those distinctions have had disastrous consequences for us.” The end of our first era of political independence – the destruction of our first Temple – is ascribed particularly to our neglect of those Mitzvot that deal without relationship with God. And the collapse of our second period of statehood is attributed to our neglect of the commandments that govern the area of human relationships. Hence, Rabbi Hirsch derives from the experience of our past an important insight into “Eikev”. We can expect future happiness only if we will accept God’s Law as a WHOLE, and strive towards its observance in its entirety, without any distinctions. Only as an all-encompassing, complete entity will the Law of God have its intended effect. I might still extend this one step further. In addition to Rabbi Hirsch’s message,”Eikev’s” message to man might also be that we are not to take anything for granted. Nothing should be viewed lightly. Nothing should be trampled on: “And it shall ‘Eikev’ come to pass, because you harken to these ordinances (as a result of your hearing) and observe and keep them, that God will keep his covenant with you.” In other words, if you hear the music in the rustle of the trees, if you do not ignore the simple beauty in everyday life, THEN you will find true fulfillment.
In the realm of Mitzvot (observance), as well as in our outlook on life, nothing can be seen as insignificant. And God exhorts us to pay attention to the ordinary, the regular and the commonplace. Living a life in the fast lane (as many of us lead today), it is so easy to run over and trample on simple beauty and everyday blessing. The Torah, then, in our parsha today, warns us against taking too great a leap in our quest for beauty and bounty. For in the midst of our search and climb, we often miss the first step
Jul 27, 2018 | Torat Devorah
The Parsha contains an apparent redundancy — it contains several admonitions to observe the laws taught by Moshe, but later states “and you shall do that which is right and good in the eyes of the Lord”. What new instruction does the latter verse add? Rashi and Rambam explain that this verse contains the additional command to do “right and good” — i.e., to go above and beyond the letter of the law in serving Hashem and aiding one’s fellow man. One who does so shows that he acts not only out of a sense of duty, or to gain rewards, but also out of a sincere desire to do Hashem’s bidding for its own sake. This ideal is illustrated by the following story: A man came to the Brisker Rav before Pesach and asked “Can I use milk instead of wine for the Four Cups?” The Brisker Rav didn’t reply; instead, he removed five rubles from his pocket and gave them to the man. The Rav’s wife asked “Would not one ruble have been more than enough money for him to buy wine?” “Perhaps,” responded the Rav, “but from his question, it was clear that he didn’t have money for meat either, for one can’t eat meat and use milk for the Four Cups. Therefore, I gave him enough money for both meat and wine for his Pesach Seder.”
“See that I have taught you statutes and laws as the Lord, my G-d, commanded me, to do so in the midst of the land.” Some philosophers advocate that if a person wants to live a life of sanctity and purity, he must flee from inhabited places and live alone in the wilderness. This is not, however, the path of the Torah. We are told to live an elevated life among other people. True sanctity and perfection is to live among other people and behave towards G-d and your fellow man in a manner consistent with Torah values (Arvai Nachal). The ideal of Torah is to bring sanctity and idealism into all aspects of human endeavor. If you live alone, you will be free from anger, envy, causing others pain, etc.; but, you will also be missing opportunities for kindness, compassion, charity, etc. Only when you are in the company of others can you fulfill all aspects of the Torah.
“And you shall remember that you were a slave in Egypt and G-d delivered you from there . . . therefore he is commanding you to make the day of Shabbos.” Rabbi Avraham Twerski comments: Several times, the Torah refers to Shabbos with the word “to make,” as though there were something active about Shabbos, although it would seem that the salient feature of Shabbos is complete rest or lack of activity. In the repetition of the Ten Commandments, there is a marked change from the original recitation. There it says that we must observe Shabbos because G-d created the universe in six days and rested on the seventh.” Yet, here it says that we should observe in remembrance of our enslavement in Egypt, Hashem is commanding us to make the day of Shabbos. Why does the Torah give a different reason for Shabbos here? Perhaps it is because that here the Torah is not telling us why to observe Shabbos, but how not to observe it. The idea of a “day of rest” is essentially a secular concept. One rests so that he/she can “recharge” the batteries in order to increase one’s work efficiency for the following week. The day of rest is a means rather than an end. The Torah concept of Shabbos is just the reverse. One works six days in order to be able to have a Shabbos. Exhaustion is not the reason for Shabbos any more than it was for G-d’s resting on the seventh day. Shabbos is a day of spiritual growth and development. It is a day when through prayer and the study of Torah, one should be able to create a new self, a person more refined than one had been heretofore. Shabbos is passive only in the sense of abstinence from work, but that abstinence is not sufficient. It must be used to enable oneself to make oneself into something finer and more spiritual person. This is what the Torah means by repeatedly using the expression “to make” the Shabbos. Make the Shabbos an active day of spiritual achievement and creation.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Jul 20, 2018 | 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 rootl-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.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
