And We're Back! Ekev 5767 -- Bread and Clothes for the Stranger

After so many months, and one and a half books of the Torah, I'm pleased to be back with just a little piece of Torah. We'll start small and then try to build up some momentum for some more ambitious learning.

In this week's parasha, Moshe continues his speech to the people, a mixture of review of the amazing events that they have been through, chastening them for their repeated sins, and giving, or reminding them, of commandments. The fifth aliyah contains almost all of this in microsm. In it, Moshe reminds the people of God's greatness, God is "The Doer of justice for the widow and orphan, who loves the sojourner and gives him bread and clothing." In the next verse, the people are commanded "and you shall love the sojourner, because you were sojourners in the land of Egypt."

Compared with the other illustrations of God's greatness, this one perhaps pales. God made the earth swallow up Datan and Aviram, drowned the Egyptians in the Yam Suf, and made 600,000 Jews out of the 70-person family of Jacob. To paraphrase Star Wars, compared to the power to make the earth open up, God's powers as grocer and tailor seem insignificant.

This was bothering Rashi too, who therefore noted "v'davar hashuv hu zeh." This giving of clothing and food to the sojourner is no small matter, but is very important, an illustration -- no less than the other feats -- of God's gevurah or might. Why is this so important? "Sh'Kol Atzmo shel Yaakov Avinu al zeh hitpallel -- because Jacob prayed with all his essence on this matter."

Rashi is referring to an incident in Genesis 28. When Jacob made his covenant with God, he made it conditional: if God will be with me, guard me on my way, and give me food to eat and clothing to wear, then the Almighty will be my God. That Jacob, faced with the reality and imminence of God, made his covenant with the Almighty conditional is a deep issue, but the important point is that Jacob made clothing and food one of those conditions. Moreover, Jacob was, at the time of this covenant, and for most of his life, a stranger and sojourner.

I think that Rashi is suggesting that we should see God's feeding and clothing of sojourners as a quasi-covenantal action. The commandment to love the stranger is therefore bookended by two justifications. Immediately after, "because you were sojourners in the land of Egypt," and immediately before, because God "loves the sojourner and gives him bread and clothing." Just as God loves the Jewish people and fulfills the covenant with the last of our foreparents by providing food and clothing, so too does God love sojourners and provide them with the same sustenance that was a material condition of our covenant.

Had Moshe only given the second reason, we might have said, "we should be good to sojourners because we were once sojourners. Though we are better than them, we should give them our sympathy and pity because we once were lowly like they." Moshe therefore prefaced that verse with the invokation of God's covenant with Jacob. We should love the sojourner because God loves the sojourner, and, indeed gives the sojourner that which our ancestor Jacob had to specially request. May we merit to emulate the covenantal ways of God through our kindness to those who sojourn among us.

Hafsaka 5767

The Kaplowitz Torah blog will be -- and has been -- on extended hiatus due to Pesach, exams, and the hubbub of moving to Chicago for the summer.

If anyone would like to contribute a piece over the next few weeks, please let me know and we will post it.

Shabbat HaGadol 5767 -- Rhymes and Songs of Maggid

"Vehigadta l'vinkha -- (and) you shall tell to your children," is the phrase out of which the haggadah, and in particular, the maggid section grow. Our family interprets this verse in the following way (note that this is an ex post theoretical justification for 25 years of practice): Why does the verse say "vehigadta -- you, specifically, in the singular, shall tell the story?" Let it instead say "vehigadtem -- and you all, b'nei Yisrael, shall tell the story," the single unitary story of Pesach! Rather, the Torah means to tell us that we should, each of us, think of our own new ways to tell the story.

In that spirit, here are some of the ways that our family has told the Pesach story. The limericks are by Will, (c) 1999, 2001, the Beatles songs are by Stan, (c) 1994, 1996. Share and Enjoy!


Limericks of Liberation (or An Anapestic Pesach)

Joseph was sold into slav’ry,
a villainous act done of knavery.
The dreams were explained
The King’s ear he gained,
and he was renowned for his bravery

His Brothers came down to Mitzraim,
and joined their dear cousin Ephraim.
They soon were enslaved
by a Pharaoh depraved.
Their bondage was such a great cri’me.

The numbers of Hebrews oft grew;
They formed a formidable crew.
So Pharaoh grew wary
of masses so scary
and ordered each baby boy slew.

The edict made Yocheved shiver,
so Miriam put Moe in the river.
The princess on-gazed him
and said, “I will raise him,
and into the palace deliver!”

Thus Moses was raised in the palace,
so royal and cultured – not callous.
He saw a Jew smited,
and with wrath incited,
avenged the slave master’s cruel malice.

Moses ran off from the city,
to lead a life unlike Walt Mitty,
he went to the Midbar,
and had not got real far,
When things first became tense and gritty.

Out in the sand was a shrubbery,
that burned like a whale-lamp so blubbery.
From it a voice boomed,
the bush not consumed,
and Moe’s knees became weak and rubbery.

“Your people are captive – go lead ‘em;
You’ll succeed if you’ve only got fidem
Go talk to the Pharaoh,
be straight as an arrow,
and lead out your people to freedom.”

Moses demands liberation.
Pharaoh says “stay the duration,
I won’t let you go.”
He’s rebuked by our Moe,
“You’ll be punished till you free our nation.”

The first plague was sanguine and bloody –
It made the White Nile quite ruddy.
Then amphibs abounded,
and Pharaoh responded,
“You’ll leave over my cold, dead body.”

Lice and beast maddened the ‘Gyptians, * (*This rhyme from the Joe Lewis Haggadah)
and drove them all into conniptions.
Things were not good,
but firm Pharaoh stood,
though half his folks needed prescriptions.

The fifth plague killed off all the cattle.
The farms were destroyed, as in battle..
Then boils so hurtful,
their own just desert-ful,
but Pharaoh had not yet been rattled.

Then hail falls like rain from the sky,
and locusts eat all they espy.
Moshe’s still pleading,
and Pharaoh’s not heeding.
The worst plagues were yet drawing nigh.

A threatening darkness descended.
The king did not act as intended.
He wouldn’t give in,
took it on the chin,
and his stubborn will was unbended.

A rumor was spread ‘mong the Jews:
“the life of each first-born to lose.
So mark out your houses,
stay quiet as mouses,
your own kids the Angel won’t choose.”

The Malach slew all the first-born
Leaving Egyptians forlorn.
Even the prince,
whom they thought invince
For his own son Pharaoh did mourn.

At this Pharaoh set them to leaving.
“Go! Don’t distract me from grieving!”
The Jews grabbed their bread,
and ran straight ahead,
freedom they now were achieving.

G-d strengthened the cruel king’s will-power,
who said “get them back in the hour!”
They rode to the sea,
and drowned quick as can be,
In turbulent waves that did tower.

The bread never rose on the way,
shaped like a slate made of clay.
It tells us we’re free,
from such slavery,
and therefore we eat it today.


Sgt. Pesach's Parody Song Band

It was many, many years ago
Egypt's pharoah really ran the show
He had pyramids and slaves galore
But he always wanted more and more
So let us introduce to you.
An act that's been around for years, the
Sergeant Pesach's Parody Song Band

"I'm fixing a hole"
Hebrew Slave:
I'm digging a hole for the reign of the king
and still my mind keeps wondering,
when this will end

I'm filling a crack in the pyramid wall
and still my mind keeps wondering,
when this will end

And it really doesn't matter if I'm dumb or bright
I work from morn till night
and every day
See the people standing there
who work like me and never win
And wonder why we don't all run away

LOVELY RITA
Lovely Moses Baby Boy
Hidden down by the river
Hidden to save him from a certain death

Princess found him by the river
Hoped the Pharoah would forgive her
If she saved his life and made him her own

Princess, said and with no malice
"Take the baby to the palace
I'll give him lots of riches and I'll make him a prince"

Lucky Moses wealthy boy
Living in princely splendor
Living so high while all your people are slaves

Sister said "Here is a nurse maid"
Real low wages she can be paid
And she'll do a great job taking care of this kid"

Nursemaid, she was baby's mother
Told him he was not like the others
They were all Egyptians, while he was a Jew.

Princely Moses Hebrew boy
Growing up mighty strangely
Someday you will make your people free

"A little HELP"
Moses:
Once in the desert I looked at a bush,
it was burning but it was so strange to see
I heard a great voice, the voice said it was God,
It said free your people from slavery
I said "God I'm not the man for this job"
I said "Not me I'm just an ordinary slob"
I said "Not me I think I'll stutter and I'll sob"

What would you do if your people were slaves to an empire so mighty and so strong
I don't have an army, I don't speak so well, do you think I can free them with song?
I'll get by with a lot of help from my God.
I'm gonna try with a lot of help from my God,
We won't die with a lot of help from our God

Cho: Do you need anybody?
Moses I need all the help I can get.
Cho: Could it be any body?
Moses: I think it needs to be God.

(Mr Kite)
MOSES:
For the punishment of the Pharoah king,
God is going to do a thing, or two or ten.
blood, frogs lice and insect swarms
They may not do him too much harm -but what a scene
But if he doesn't flinch at four
Gods promises us many more -- with real fire
And Pharoah's stubborn heart will be destroyed

More fun comes with plagues 5 and 6
Pestilence, boils, and other tricks, will then abound
Including darkness, hail and locusts
Lots of scary hocus-pocus -- will be found
Aaron and I assure our people
That this production will be second to none
And of course God is the source of Pharoah's woes

Since Pharoah is a stubborn guy,
Firstborn Egyptians will all die, in fourteen days
And while this may sound kind of rough
I think no less will be enough, to change his ways
But when this final deed is done
We will be told to pack our bags and run
On that night, from the heights, Pharoah will fall

"When I'M 64"
Adviser:
Pharoah, oh great One beyond compare,
listen to me please!!
We've profitted from keeping them in slavery
But now its tzuris for you, and for me.
Wake them all up at a quarter to three
Kick them out the door
We no longer need them
why should we feed them?
Keep them here no more!!

We're in trouble now
But if you say the word
You might save us all

Pharoah:
Slaves can be handy doing our work
When work must be done
Let them make our bricks out in the desert sun
We can relax and we can have fun
Drink in the palace, boat on the Nile
Who could ask for more?
I think we still need them
Continue to feed them
Slaves forever more

Adviser:
Every day we keep them here
Their God is going to smite us more
We're in trouble now
But if you say the word
You might save us all

Pharoah:
My heart has been stubborn, my ways have been cruel,
For so many years
I've resisted all the messages their God has sent
But now my resistance has got up and went
Wake them all up at a quarter to three
Kick them out the door
We no longer need them
why should we feed them?
Keep them here no more!!


"Leaving Home"
Narrator
14 Nissan at 3 o'clock before day begins
Rapidly leaving the slave hut door
Packing some dough that they hoped would rise more
They walk past the tombs that they long worked on
clutching babes in arms
Using the full moon to light the way
Walking quite far before break of day
They (we've had enough slavery )
are leaving (we just want to be free)
here (worked us so hard that we almost all died)
They're leaving here after shedding great tears for so many years
14 Nissan at 9 o'clock Pharoah leaves his bed
Looks at the work site so still and bare,
Standing alone at the top of the stair
He breaks down and calls his advisors
"Damn it! our slaves are gone."
"Why would they treat us so thoughtlessly?
How could they do this to me?"
They (We fed them all of their lives)
are leaving (employed them all of their lives)
here (we gave them only enough to get by)
They're leaving here after shedding great tears for so many years
30 Nissan at 9 o'clock, they are far away
The army it chased them, they got afraid,
The waters all parted so they could wade
They (now have a new way of life)
are being (yes have a new way of life)
free (they can have Shabbat each week of the year)
Something inside that was always denied for so many years,
They're leaving slavery, bye bye

"Getting Better"
Hebrews:
We went to a very rough school
Slavemasters who taught us were cruel
Beating us down, into the ground
Tying us up with their rules
But we have to admit its getting better
It’s getting better, we can see
We have to admit its getting better
A little better now we're free
Getting so much better now we're free!!
Getting better now we're free.

Ki Tissa 5767 -- The Existence Triangle

The first commandment in this week’s parasha is the machatzit hashekel, the taking of the half-shekel from every male Israelite, age 20 and over. The Torah states explicitly that this taking of one coin from each and every army-eligible Israelite (how’s that for a string of vowels!) constitutes the proper means of taking the census. As parshanim explain, although they perhaps need not, all Moshe has to do is count his half-shekel coins, and it’s as good as counting Israelites. These half-shekels will also, the Torah tells us, be used as atonement money, and will be donated to Service in the Tent of Meeting.

What’s the connection between atonement, donation to the Ohel Moed, and the census? Says Sforno, the great Italian Torah scholar, counting and atonement for sins are intrinsically linked. God does not put them together here – rather, they always go together. To paraphrase that great German non-Torah scholar, Karl Marx, existence is sin. (One of Marx's witticism's, I believe, was that property is theft). When we count the numbers of extant Israelites, we are counting the number of those who sin. As we see in the incident of the Golden Calf in this week's parasha, sometimes those sins can be quite stunning. Since the very act of enumeration recalls our existence, and hence our sins, such an enumeration should contain the seeds of our forgiveness. In other words, before God has a chance to get really angry at us – and before we have a chance to get really angry at ourselves – for all of our human imperfection, we launch an atonement campaign with the half-shekel.

It is certainly nice to reflect upon God’s great kindness that seeks to forgive us even before we are finished uncovering our sins. However, we are still left with the idea that to exist is to sin. Sforno focuses (in my reading) on the use of the half shekel for atonement, but the half shekel has another function as well: it is a donation to God, to be used in the Tent of Meeting. I would therefore like to suggest a different equation, one that could be thought of as the opposite side of the triangle formed by the census, atonement, and donation to the Ohel Moed: To exist is to contribute.

This equation is actually made quite manifest by the details of the half-shekel mitzvah. Every army-aged Israelite must give a coin, and each Israelite, poor or rich, gave exactly a half-shekel, no more no less, which was donated to the Tent of Meeting. In other words, the very act of recognizing an individual’s existence contributed to the holy endeavors of the Tent of Meeting. The same is no doubt true in our own lives. Sin is part of human existence, but an equal, and probably greater, part is made up of the contributions that we make everyday to other people and to God.

Tetzaveh 5767 -- Moses und Aron

Why was Aharon chosen to be the kohen gadol, and not Moshe? The kohen gadol conducted the most direct and intimate service of God, and so one would think that Moshe, who spoke with God "face to face" would have been the most appropriate for this honor.

The Ibn Ezra gives three reasons why Aharon was chosen over Moshe. The first I do not understand, and would be grateful for your comments, the second seems trivial, even to the Ibn Ezra and the third suggests something deep about what it means for humans to relate to each other and to God.

First, the Ibn Ezra says that Aharon was chosen because of the honor of the family of Nachshon, because the kohanim would later conduct the Temple services that would bring atonement to the Jewish people. I understand neither the connection between Aharon (as opposed to Moshe) and Nachshon, nor between Nachshon and atonement for the Jewish people.

Second, the Ibn Ezra suggests that Moshe couldn't have been a Kohen because his wife, Tziporah, was not born Jewish. As one of the halakhot of the kohanim is that they may not marry divorcees, widows, or converts, Moshe and his entire line would have been disqualified from the kahuna before it even began (particularly when we recall that Moshe married Tzipporah years before the revelation at Sinai). However, as the Ibn Ezra admits, Moshe didn't have much of an option to marry an Israelite woman, as he spent his marryin' years on the run, away from the Jewish people. This is therefore not a very good reason.

Third, the Ibn Ezra suggests that Moshe simply did not have the time or wherewithal to serve as kohen gadol. Moshe was already devoting himself to teaching the mitzvot to all of Israel, and to judging all of their disputes, aided by the sanhedrin. But this seems to beg the question: given that Moshe knew all the laws well enough to teach them over and over again to hundreds of thousands of people, wouldn't he have been the very best choice to be the kohen gadol? Given his amazing knowledge and talents, shouldn't he have been -- if he'd really pushed himself -- able to be the kohen gadol as well?

I think that this is a trap that many of us get ourselves into, when we've worked hard and developed skills or experience. We think that not only are we a better qualifed candidate than anybody else for X, Y, or Z, but also that we should, among all the other challenges in our lives, be able to taken on X, Y, and Z! This is problematic in both a vertical and horizontal dimension. It is vertically problematic in that only God can do everything. We are, no matter our talents, limited; when we forget this we forget some of our humanity, and end up no place good. It is horizontally problematic in that such an expansive sense of self tends to crowd out our fellow human beings. When we believe that only we can do something, we forget about that wonderful network of self-reinforcing humanity of which we are a part. The sense that only we can do anything, and that we therefore must do everything is a recipe for existential loneliness. God establishes the opposite paradigm here: we should be comfortable sharing the work and glory, and trusting others, in the worthiest of pursuits. This, I think, is the profound lesson that the Ibn Ezra brings us.

Terumah 5767 -- Donations and Purchases

Just a short vort this week: the first verse of this week's parsha contains God's commandment to take a terumah of various materials from the Jewish people. As Rashi reads it, and as modern Hebrew has it, litrom means to set aside money, to make a donation. Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch adds an additional element. Litrom, he says, is built upon the letters Resh, Vav, Mem, which letters form the root meaning "to raise or exalt" (as in Romemu Hashem Elokeinu). Thus, when the Israelites set aside these materials for use in the mishkan, they also raised the objects from a purely physical, and spiritually irrelevant, status, to one reaching a higher plain.

We have seen the 'elevation' of inanimate items before, in parshat Hayei Sarah. When Avraham buys the field containing the cave of Machpelah from Efron, the Torah tells us "vayakom s'deh Efron .... l'Avraham l'miknah l'einei b'nei Het-- and the field of Efron arose as a purchase to Avraham before the eyes of the Hittites." (Breishit 23:17-18). The phrase "vayakom s'deh Efron" is a little unusual here -- why does the Torah need to retell us that the field was Efron's, and why use the word vayakom?

Most commentators explain that the Torah is just referring to the field with specificity, and that vayakom simply means the sale validly occurred. Rashi, however, brings a midrashic explanation and says that the field underwent a tekumah, an elevating change of status, as it went from the hands of Efron to the hands of Avraham. Efron was a regular guy; Avraham was the founder of monotheism, a person who covenanted with the Almighty. The field itself thus climbed the spiritual ladder in the transaction.

The discussions of 'elevation' in both terumah (donations for the mishkan) and tekumat s'deh l'miknah (heightened spiritual status of purchased land), suggests a comparison: just as donation to a holy endeavor can elevate even a physical object and imbue it with spiritual significance, so too, a purchase, under the right circumstances, may be a holiness-generating act. To put it differently, and more expansively, the comparison between charitable donations and purchases suggests that charitable donations are not the only way to make the world a better place, and are not the only way to do something meaningful with money.

We can elevate our commerce, and take steps towards a more meaningful life and world, by doing any of the following suggested actions: purchase goods from companies that actively seek to respect and sustain their workers and the environment (see http://www.mayaworks.org/ for an excellent example: we bought kippot for our wedding, as did my cousin Dina); invest in such socially responsible companies, so that they have more capital to do their work; be sure to tip generously so that people who work hard for you can take home a little more money and dignity. This is a very short and incomplete list, and I would welcome (and will post) any other suggestions for ways to elevate commerce and make the world a better place.

As we approach Purim, and properly focus on its mitzvah of matanot la'evyonim (gifts to the poor), let us strive also to use our commerce for good.

Mishpatim 5767 -- Tenets and Tension (by Stan Kaplowitz, assisted by Will)

Note: This week's parsha, with its very many laws governing everyday Jewish behavior, is perfect for the analysis of a law student. We therefore are pleased to present some Torah from a sociologist!
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In many parts of the Torah, one must carefully read between the lines in order to grasp the intended moral lesson. But this parasha is very explicit in telling us how to behave. Not only are these rules very explicit, they are also abundant and touch on almost all aspects of how people should behave towards another. Thus this parasha is a foundation of our people’s moral code, but I have many conflicting reactions to it.

In this parasha, we immediately see a great concern with the poor and the vulnerable.
“You shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan.”
“You shall not subvert the rights of your needy in disputes”.
“Leave your field to rest in the seventh year and let the needy of your people eat from it.”
“If you lend money to the poor, do not act as a creditor, exact no interest from them.”
”If you take your neighbor’s garment in pledge, you must return it before the sun sets. It is his only clothing, his sole covering.”
In short, right here are many of the passages which form the basis for our historic concern with tzedakah and tikkun olam. Yet while these passages provide an important inspiration and justification for these activities that are so dear to me, they are not the whole story. Other parts of this parasha show far less compassion. We see in the first law of the parasha that the Torah countenances slavery; the Torah also mandates that whoever lies with a beast must be put to death. And even though I am a parent, putting to death someone who insults his mother or father seems extreme.

One can try to resolve the apparent conflict between compassion and harshness by noting that ancient Israel had many features of what cross-cultural social psychologists call a collectivistic culture. Such cultures have very strong emphasis on loyalties to an in-group, such as an extended family or village and sometimes to an entire people. While such cultures show a great deal of concern for the survival and well-being of others in the in-group, a great deal of conformity is demanded in return, and harsh punishments are administered to those who violate the rules. Group solidarity is not built through allowing people to do their own things. Moreover, such cultures often show little concern for the well-being of outsiders. Consistent with such an interpretation, the Torah has many examples in which God helps the Israelites destroy other peoples, sometimes for no other reason than that they are on land which God has promised to the Israelites. Furthermore, the Torah itself is meant to be a unifying, perhaps even other-excluding, force for this in-group. Rashi makes a similar comment on the verse "These are the laws that you shall place before them." As Rashi says, God has instructed Moshe to teach the Torah, or at least this civil code, to the Jews only, and not to any other cultures.

Many of us are aware that as Judaism has evolved, rabbinic law has shown more compassion, even for wrong doers, and more concern for non-Jews as well as Jews. For example, Talmudic and later rabbinic commentators are quick to insist that "an eye for an eye" refers to monetary compensatory damages, and not to retributive disfiguring. Likewise, we can see the rabbinic expansion of pikuah nefesh to non-Jews (even if perhaps for less than altruistic reasons). What is interesting is that for all the harshness advocated in this parasha, this very parasha also shows many signs of compassion for outsiders, and even enemies. Twice this parasha tells us “Do not oppress the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” And while it does not tell us to love our enemy, it does say, “when you see your enemy’s ox or donkey wondering, you must return it to him. When you see the donkey of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must none-the-less raise it with him.”

Aside from the tension between compassion and harshness and the tension between loyalty to in-group and a more universalistic ethic, I see still another tension: the tension between simplicity and complexity. Many of the rules in this parasha are stated without qualification. Those who insult their parents or lie with an animal are to be put to death. The circumstances are irrelevant. However, in other parts of the parasha, we see a rather sophisticated consideration of how the circumstances surrounding an action should make a great deal of difference. We see that when an ox gores a man or woman to death, the ox shall be killed but the owner shall go unpunished. But in the next verse, we see that if the ox has been in the habit of goring and the owner though warned, has failed to guard it, then the owner and the ox shall be put to death. In short there is a clear distinction made between a tragedy which could not be anticipated and criminal negligence.

Similar distinctions can be found in discussion what happens to the tunneler (i.e. the burglar). If such an intruder is caught breaking and entering at night he may be killed. In he is caught in daylight, killing him would be a crime. I have read that this distinction is based on the assumption that the night burglar was committing his crime knowing that people would probably be there and was, therefore a threat to their lives.. On the contrary, if this were to occur in the daylight, where the presumption is that residents are not at home, there is no similar threat to the residents. A similar complexity can be found in laws about looking after someone’s property. If I give you goods for safekeeping and they are stolen, you are not responsible. But if it were an animal you are watching, you are held to a higher standard of responsibility and may be held liable for inadequate care of it. We again see this complexity right at the beginning of Ch. 21, where we are told that after 6 years a slave shall go free, unless he or she does not wish to do so.

Thus, while some of the moral dictums in this parasha seem like the work of simple but stern country folk, others sound as if they were written by lawyers! But this code is notably different from the work of other great lawyers of the ancient world. For example, Hammurabi’s code stated that if a noble kills or injures a commoner, he must pay a fine. Only if he kills another noble does a principle such as “an eye for an eye” obtain. By contrast, in the laws of this parasha, the killing of any human being, even one’s own slave, is a serious crime. Moreover, the punishments and damages meted out for physical harm to another do not appear to depend on the social class of the killer or victim.

So it seems to me that conflicting tendencies in this parasha represents a turning point in the history of ancient Israel. It marks a step away from an exclusive concern with our own people and towards compassion for others, even our enemies. But it also marks the beginning of a more sophisticated and nuanced view of right and wrong and of crime and punishment. One needs only look to the difficult and confused morality of the stories in Genesis to see how far we have come in Mishpatim.

Like the great empires, with their literate elites and sophisticated legal system, the Torah contains a complex legal code of behavior. But the Torah's code also expresses the values of a people with far more egalitarian values and living conditions. And I think this helped us on the road toward becoming a culture in which literacy and complex reasoning were not the exclusive preserve of scholars but were widespread.

Yitro 5767 -- Dancing again at Sinai (Multimedia D'var Torah!)

“Vayehi vayom ha’sh’lishi b’hiyot haboker, vayehi kolot u’v’rakim, v’anan kaved al hahar, v’kol shofar hazak m’od; vayeherad kol ha’am asher bamahaneh – and it occurred on the third day of the encampment at Sinai, when it was morning, that there were voices and thunder and the cloud was heavy on the mountain, the voice of the Shofar was very strong; all of the people in the camp were haredim.” (Sh’mot 19:16) I have intentionally avoiding translating this last word so as to preserve one of the questions in this d’rasha (as well as for comedic purposes).

The encampment at Sinai and receipt of the Torah are often thought of as solemn events, filled with awe, trepidation, and perhaps trembling, as in the usual rendering of the word hared. I would like to add an additional element to our image of ma’amad har Sinai­, the standing at Sinai: joy. Towards that end, there are two questions that I would like to pose. First, what were the kolot, the voices? They were not, apparently, Shofar blasts, as the Shofar is listed separately. Second, what does it mean that all of the people were haredim?

Rabbenu Hananel (an 11th Century scholar) answers that the kolot were voices of the angels who give praise to HaKadosh Barukh Hu every morning. While the Jewish people may have been overwhelmed and awed by the performance of the heavenly choir, I would argue that this beautiful service probably gave them a feeling of joyous closeness to the Divine, much as we may feel when we use music to connect to God during tefilot today. We can only imagine the heavenly chorus as we say the words of Kedushah:“n’kadesh et shimkhah ba’olam, k’shem sh’makdishim oto bishmei marom – we will sanctify your name in the world as they sanctify it in the heavenly heights.” Our ancestors, on the other hand, were privileged to actually hear that chorus, and must have felt great joy.

The power of this music undoubtedly shook the Jewish people to their core, and set their bodies moving; the music and the Shofar blasts made them haredim. According to the Hizkuni (a 13th Century scholar), this root ‘hared’ does NOT mean that the people were afraid, that they were ‘trembling.’ Rather, he says, hared is lashon shaon v’ha’na’ah -- a term that connotes hubbub and movement. As the Hizkuni imagines it, the Jewish people were all still in bed when dawn broke. They heard the heavenly voices and were overcome by the feeling that the Shekhina was waiting for them on top of the mountain. Upon this realization they immediately jumped out of bed and got moving!

We can make two observations based on the Hizkuni. First, that the Jewish people were filled with energy and anticipation when they realized that the Shekhina was descending upon the mountain. Second, that their primary emotion was NOT fear – they did not start quaking in their boots upon this realization, but were instead filled with a powerful energy that made them move with a hubbub and din. So if they were not primarily feeling fear, what were they feeling? It seems to me that they must have been filled with a joyous anticipation (perhaps offset slightly by pure anxiety) much as a bride or groom feels. In response to this joyous anticipation they moved – and Lord, how they moved – in what I can only imagine must have been a sort of dance, in step with the Angelic voices and Shofar blasts.

I've composed and recorded the following song to express what I believe the Jewish people must have been feeling – a powerful sense of anticipation, energy, and joy (and perhaps a little bit of fear). As we stand again at Sinai this Shabbat, let’s do some dancing!

You can download the song by clicking on this link, VaYehi Kolot, and then scrolling to the bottom of the page to another link which will begin the file transfer. I hope you enjoy.

B'shalah 5767 -- Zeh Eli v'Anvehu: The Environmental Lessons of Tu B'shvat and Shabbat Shira

This year Shabbat B’Shalach, Shabbat Shira, on which we celebrate the Splitting of the Sea of Reeds, falls on Tu B’Sh’vat, as it does in many years. They are never far apart. What explains this parsha’s exceptional link to Tu B’sh’vat? There are 2 important ways in which Tu B’Sh’vat and Shabbat Shira magnify each other.

First, They teach us to recognize the goodness and might of God in the beauty of nature as surely as we did in the suspension of nature at the Splitting of the Sea. Likewise, just as God’s majestic interference with the natural world caused our ancestors to break into exuberant song, so too the majesty of nature and all the living things in it should give us much cause to sing.

Second, they teach us that although we are not allowed to live our lives in reliance on God’s miracles, we are allowed – and encouraged – to rely on the budding of the trees and the coming of spring in this beautiful world God created. For example, we sing on Tu B’Sh’vat HaSh’kedia Porachat – The Almond Tree Blossoms, and indeed it does! When we lived in Israel, there was an almond tree across the street from our building. Sure enough, within days of Tu B’Sh’vat, buds could be seen upon it.

But we cannot totally rely on God to maintain this beautiful world. According to the midrash, the splitting of the Sea of Reeds would not have occurred if all of the Jewish people had stood waiting at the shore. God’s miraculous redemption would not have occurred if Nachshon had not been willing to take action and wade into the water. So too, we cannot stand about waiting for God to repair and maintain the earth. Our wonderful planet will not long keep its integrity while we all stand waiting at the shore of environmental activism. We must commit ourselves to take care of the world – otherwise we will be unable to rely on God’s kindness.

Fortunately, the path for us is easier than it was for Nachshon. We need not expose ourselves to danger, but merely to make wiser decisions, and to make our voice heard. We can start by installing Compact Fluorescent Light bulbs (CFLs) in all of our fixtures. These bulbs use less than ¼ the energy as incandescent bulbs and last for many, many years. They are now available in almost every shape and variety of light bulb, from floodlights to full spectrum. (For more information see http://www.coejl.org/climatechange/cc_cfl.php). CFLs are environmentally and economically efficient, but they won’t install themselves. We need only to be bold, like Nachshon, and go do it!!

The combined message of these special days is encapsulated by a verse from the Song by the Sea. As our ancestors saw the majesty of God they sang the beautiful words– Zeh Eli v’Anvehu. This verb v’Anvehu is rich with meaning. Among the possibilities are that is derived from navah, pleasantness or beauty (and hence a source for the halachic principle of hiddur mitzvah) or from n’veh, a home or dwelling. The sentence might therefore mean “This is my God and I will beautify God (or Godly things)” or “This is my God and I will build a home for God.”

The coincidence of Tu B’sh’vat and Shabbat Shira suggests another midrashic reading, Zeh – Olam HaZeh, this world; Eli – nivra al yidei Eli – was created by my God; v’Anvehu – and I will commit myself to making it a more beautiful and more appropriate dwelling place for God. This is the lesson that we should learn from Shabbat Shira and Tu B’sh’vat.

Bo 5767 -- ... Like a Grasshopper on a Seder Plate

We really should put locusts on our seder plates. The function of the seder plate – particularly the z’roah, matzah, and maror – is to begin a conversation, to create a teaching moment. As we say in the seder, “Matzah/maror/pesach al shum mah? – This Matzah/Bitter Herb/Shankbone, what is it about?” Our answers elaborate on our oppression by the Egyptians and the great might with which God ensured our freedom. (As our Haggadot are safely sealed in a hametz-free vault, I won’t write anything more detailed about the Seder).

This is the function of the plague of locusts also, says the Kli Yakar. When God tells Moshe to announce the impending plague of locusts, the Almighty says that one of the purposes is “u’lema’an t’saper b’ozney binkha uven binkha eit asher hitalalti b’Mitzrayim v’et oatotai asher samti vam – and so that you should tell your children and their children what miracles I did in Egypt and all the signs that placed down upon them.” (10:2). This sounds very much like the command “v’higad’ta l’vinkha – and you shall relate to your child” that underlies the whole concept of the seder and haggadah. As the Kli Yakar observes, the locusts are the only one of the Ten Plagues accompanied by this sort of precept.

What is it about the locusts that creates or mandates this sort of teaching moment when none of the other plagues do so? The answer is to be found in Exodus 10:14, which states prophetically that such locusts were never seen eating the plants of Egypt after the lifting of the plague. This remarkable change in locust behavior, says the Kli Yakar, left a roshem, an impression. Future generations of children therefore asked their parents to explain why the locusts only ate plants just over the Egyptian border into Israel, but never plants on the Egyptian side. The responses to these questions would presumably explain that this occurred because of the greatness and might of God.

By contrast, the Kli Yakar claims that none of the other plagues left a roshem. The Torah therefore does not similarly tell us that those plagues occurred so that future generations could hear of the remarkable signs done by the Almighty. It’s true that none of the other plagues worked an ongoing change in the way of life in Egypt, but it is certainly not the case, as the Kli Yakar seemingly suggests, that “ki nishkach zikhram etzel hahamon – the memory of them was forgotten by most.” Would the trauma of the slaying of the first-born really be forgotten?

Perhaps we can explain by saying that the type of roshem left by the locusts is one that children would uniquely notice and question. Parents would therefore be led to explain, in fulfillment of the goal that “u’lema’an t’saper b’ozney binkha uven binkha eit asher hitalalti b’Mitzrayim v’et oatotai asher samit vam – and so that you should tell your children and their children what miracles I did to Egypt and all the signs that placed down upon them.” While doubtlessly the sight of all the drinking water turning to blood, wild beasts running rampage, and the slaughter of first-born sons would precipitate Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in many adults, children who did not experience these events – and perhaps even young ones who did – would not later be led to ask for explanation.

However, the curious behavior of locusts who treated the Egypt-Israel border as a sort of 38th parallel could well provoke a child to ask “why don't the locusts eat in Egypt also?” In response to this present tense question, a parent would tell the ancient story of the liberation from Egypt. This sort of tying the present to the past is precisely what occurs at the seder, when we are commanded to see ourselves as though we had left Egypt. We accomplish this goal in large part by presenting concrete and present symbols to remind ourselves of our past. Like I said, we should have a locust on the seder plate.

VaEra 5767 -- The Torah of the Fundamental Attribution Error

This week, Moshe’s second attempt to rouse the Jewish people fails because the people are working so hard they barely have a chance to breathe. He then complains to God that he certainly will not be able to persuade Pharaoh to free the Jews. “Hen Bnei Yisrael Lo Shamu Elai, V’eikh Yishma’eni Paroh, v’ani Aral S’fataim – Behold B’nei Yisrael didn’t listen to me, how can it be that Pharaoh will listen to me, as I have lips that are aral (a phrase perhaps referring to physical deformity or a social speech impediment)?”

Rashi says that this is one of the ten Kal v’Chomer statements in the Torah. Actually, there are ten in TaNaKh: four in Torah, four in Navi, and two in Ketuvim, according to the midrash of Rabbi Yishmael in Bereishit Rabba (92:7). The existence of this enumerated category may be as new to you as it was to me. The ten plagues, ten commandments, thirteen attributes, those I knew – but the ten Kalin v’Hamurin? Even so, it is pretty catchy, and appealing to those logically minded, and so I’m thinking of proposing a modification to our family’s singing of Ehad Mi Yodea: “Asara Kal V’Homriya.” (After all, “Dibriyah” for the commandments is a little redundant given “shnei luhot haBrit.”)

Let’s look at Moshe’s Kal v’Chomer and compare it to the other nine that Rabbi Yishmael presents. A complete list of the other nine is below for those interested.

Moshe’s Kal v’Chomer is fundamentally problematic because it shouldn’t be a Kal v’Chomer. Moshe probably means it as a Kal v’Chomer, and there are at least three different ways to explain what is the Kal and what is the Chomer (see Rashi, Siftei Hachamim, and Ibn Ezra) but we immediately see that this doesn’t follow the structure. It’s therefore quite interesting that it even makes it into Rabbi Yishmael’s list, a point that the Anaf Yosef commentary to Midrash Rabba makes.

A classic Kal v’Chomer would go something like this: I tell you that I can’t lift 30 pounds, and so you would say that I am not very strong and I certainly can’t lift 40 pounds. More abstractly, if A is true about X, then B, which has even more of whatever characteristic made A true, must certainly be true about X. In other words, we use some fact that we know about X to make an attribution about X that we can then generalize.

But a Kal v’Chomer doesn’t work if there is some reason to hesitate before inferring an attribute from the fact. That is, if I tell you that I tried to lift 30 pounds today and couldn’t, and also that I have a fever today, you would be quite cautious about making the inference that I’m generally not strong and could not lift 40 pounds on a normal day. This is the situation in Moshe’s Kal v’Chomer. The Torah tells us that the Jewish people did not listen to Moshe because their spirits were so low from all the hard work. Moshe should therefore not attribute his inability to convince the Jewish people to his own character – thus further implying that he hasn’t a chance of persuading Pharaoh – but to the fact that they were working too hard. The failure to make proper attributions to situations, rather than to people, (just like Moshe did here) is known in social psychology as the Fundamental Attribution Error.

Moshe’s current Kal v’Chomer is noteworthy among the other nine in several ways. Let’s look at some patterns in the other nine to fully appreciate this.

First, in each of the nine, the parallelism and attribution of the Kal v’Chomer seem correct. For example, as Jeremiah says, one who can’t keep up with human runners can’t catch horses (#5); as Moshe later says, those who rebel under divine leadership probably rebel under sub-divine leadership (#4); as King David’s men say, when home is unsafe, the frontline will be more so (#6 and 7); and as Achashverosh say, those who kill under the king’s watch probably did even more damage in the lawless provinces (#10) etc. None of the other nine Kal v’Chomer statements have the obvious flaw found in Moshe’s Kal v’Chomer this week; in other words, none of the other nine exhibit the Fundamental Attribution Error.

Second, only one of these other Kal v’Chomer structures addresses any attributes of the speaker, and it does so l’Shevah, in praise of the speaker. This is the Kal v’Chomer of Joseph’s brothers, who make a Kal v’Chomer to defend themselves against Joseph’s charge that they stole from him: “If we refused to take the money you gave us, how could we steal from you?” All of the other instances address attributes of the listener or of a 3rd party. For example, Moshe makes a Kal v’Chomer on the behavior of the Jewish people, God does so on the halakha of Miriam’s leprosy, the prophets do so regarding the behavior of the people, King David’s men do so in examining the level of danger in which they find themselves, and Ahashverosh does so in discussing the extent of the Jewish military actions on Purim. While Moshe’s attributions to himself are not unique – Joseph’s brothers do so as well – in no other case does a Biblical character make a self-deprecating Kal v’Chomer

Third, of the nine, four are delivered by human beings trying to make an emphatic point in the course of conversation (Joseph’s brothers to their accusers; Moses to the people; David’s soldiers to David; Achashverosh to Esther). four are given in prophecy or general wisdom (Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Proverbs). One is uttered by the Almighty (God to Moshe regarding Miriam). However, everyone of these nine is delivered to a human being – none are said to God. This Kal v’Chomer, and no other, is spoken to God.

To summarize, Moshe’s Kal v’Chomer in our parsha is unique in 3 dimensions. His is (a) the only Kal v’Chomer that loses its logical force due to an intervening factor -- the people’s fatigue --and makes the Fundamental Attribution Error; (b) the only Kal v’Chomer that makes negative attributions to the speaker; and c) the only Kal v’Chomer uttered to God.

What do we make of the fact that our greatest prophet utters the only self-doubting, Fundamental Attribution Error-ridden Kal v’Chomer in all of the TaNaKh, and, furthermore, does this in conversation with the Almighty?

Perhaps this is meant to illustrate to us just how hard it is for us to make accurate attributions and learn correct lessons from our experiences and observations. When we fail, it can be very difficult to know whether it was because we weren’t up to the challenge, or because some unknown external factor interfered. Moreover, even when we perceive that there was some external factor, as here, we may often wonder whether we might have failed anyway, even without that factor.

I think that we are often quite hard on ourselves and others (as I perhaps have been on Moshe) for making these sorts of errors, and for harboring such doubts. But I think that this is why the Torah shows us this incident as it does: so that we should realize that even the great and wise sometimes look back on their experiences and wonder what to make of them. Just as God was understanding with Moshe and helped him by including Aharon as a spokesman, Kal v’Chomer should we, who are not omniscient and all-mighty, go easy and ourselves and others when self-doubting ill-logic strikes us.

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The first Kal v’Chomer, Bereishit 44:8 – after Joseph’s brothers come see him in Egypt for the first time, he accuses his brothers of stealing his goblet. The brother’s respond and say, “Given that we returned the money that you gave to us, how could we steal from you?” That is, if a person does not hold onto money on which he or she has a claim, surely that person would not hold money on which (s)he has no claim.

The third Kal v’Chomer, BaMidbar 12:14 – God tells Moshe how to interact with Miriam during her leprosy saying “v’aviha yarok yarak b’faneha halo tikalem shivat yamim? Tisager shivat yamim mihutz lamaheneh.” That is, if the anger of an earthly parent would merit 7 days of impurity, surely the anger of Avinu sh’Bashamayim merits at least that much (apparently 14 days according to Breishit Rabba).

The fourth Kal v’Chomer, D’varim 31:27 – Moshe says to the Jewish people at the end of his life, “I know that you are rebellious and stiff-necked; you have rebelled against God during my life – and surely afterwards!” That is, those who rebel against God during the leadership of one who speaks directly with God will surely rebel in the absence of such a leader.

The fifth Kal’Chomer, Jeremiah 12:5 – the prophet describes the impending doom and feebleness of the Jewish people by saying, “If you get tired racing footmen, how do you expect to keep up with horses?”

The sixth Kal v’Chomer, Jeremiah 12:5 – Jeremiah’s prophecy continues, “if you feel danger in peaceful territory, how would you like the exposed heights of Jordan?”

The seventh Kal v’Chomer, Shmuel Alef, 23:3 – David encourages his men to accompany him to battle the Philistines in Ke’ilah. They respond, “We are afraid even here in Judea, how much more so if we go out to the battle in Ke’ilah.” This could be read one of two ways: if it is dangerous at home, how much more so in battle; or, if we are fearful people here at home, how much more so will we fear in battle.

The eighth Kal v’Chomer, Ezekiel 15:5 – Ezekiel brings the example of a grapevine, which isn’t much good as a building material – how much more so, he asks, if it is burnt?

The ninth Kal v’Chomer, Mishlei (Proverb) 11:31 – “Hen Tzadik Ba’aretz yishulam, af ki rasha v’hoteh – Behold the righteous is punished (Artscroll translation) on earth, certainly the wicked and sinners will be!”

The tenth Kal v’Chomer, Esther nine:12 – describing the carnage inflicted by the Jews against Haman’s men, Achashverosh says “In Shushan, the capital, the Jews have slain 500 men; imagine what they have done in the rest of the provinces!” (my translation based on the wooden Artscroll translation).

Sh'mot 5767 VaYakom Melekh Hadash

“VaYakom Melekh Hadash al Mitzrayim asher lo Yada et Yosef.” This verse is usually translated “A new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Yosef.” Other commentators argue that there was not a new king, but rather that the old king merely passed new decrees. For example, Rashi brings a machloket between Rav and Shmuel precisely to this effect. Another interesting proof for this second view comes from the Hizkuni, who notes that while the death of Joseph is reported again in 1:7, there is no mention of the death of an old king; therefore he must still be alive and still ruling.

The Kli Yakar makes two wonderful observations on this verse. First, he notes that “VaYakom Melekh Hadash – A new king arose” is not the simplest way to convey that there was a new king. That would have been “VaYimlokh Melekh Hadash – A new king became ruler.” The verb “To arise” is more often seen in the context of an enemy who arises against someone (“VaYakom al …”) to harm him/her, as the Hizkuni and Kli Yakar both note. This being the case, against whom did the Melekh Hadash arise? The Hizkuni answers, logically, that Pharoah rose up to harm B'nei Israel. Although this is logical, it's textually problematic -- the verse states "VaYakom Melekh Hadash al Mitzrayim -- a new king arose against Egypt." The Kli Yakar therefore says that Pharoah rose up to harm Egypt.

So in what sense could Pharoah be said to have arisen against his own people to harm them? The Kli Yakar explains that Pharoah was his, and his people’s, own worst enemy. Pharoah set out to destroy the Jewish people because their great population increase represented a threat. Acccording to most commentators, this great population growth was unnatural, the result of divine blessing. Therefore, the very reason that Pharoah wanted to destroy the Jewish people – that God was on their side, as it were – caused him to fail. Moreover, this evil and misguided plan brought down the punishment of the 10 plagues on Egypt. In this sense, Pharoah’s lust for oppression, either as the new king or via new decrees as the old king, ensured the destruction of the Egyptians – “VaYakom Al Mitzrayim.”

The Kli Yakar makes a related drasha on “Asher Lo Yada et Yosef,” which he reads as “Asher Lo Yada Mah sh’Karah L’Yosef – who didn’t know what happened to Joseph.” It is not so much that Pharoah had never met Joseph, but that he did not know Joseph’s life story. He did not know that Joseph's brothers had endeavored to kill Joseph and to nullify his dreams, to no avail; his dreams came true, because they reflected divine prophecy. To add to the Kli Yakar, if Pharoah had known the principle of “Rabot Mahashavot B’lev Ish, Atzat Hashem Hi Takum – there are many thoughts in the human heart, but the divine plan is the one that lasts” he never would have launched his evil folly. As such, his lack of knowledge of Yosef’s story was what made him an enemy to his own people.

I want to suggest a further homiletic reading that follows in the same footsteps. Rather than reading VaYakom Melekh Hadash as a reference to Pharoah (which is perhaps a stretch since we’re viewing the Melekh as an enemy of Egypt) let it be a reference to God, who is the sovereign of the entire universe. Moreover, God is sometimes identified simply as “Melekh” -- and not “haMelekh” – as in the terms of the Amidah, Melekh Ozer u'Moshia u'Magen. The verse could then be read “VaYakom Melekh, Hadash al Mitzrayim sh'lo Yada et Yosef -- And God arose, anew against the Egyptians, because they did not know the story of Joseph.”

VaYehi 5767 -- Of Burial and Blessing

There are two difficulties in this week’s parsha and perushim that I would like to explore. I hope that by exploring each difficulty a single explanation will emerge.

As Jacob grows old he calls upon Joseph and beseeches Joseph not to bury him in Egypt. Apparently unsatisfied with Joseph’s acquiescence (‘anochi e’eseh khid’varekha’), Jacob demands that Joseph take an oath that he will not bury his father in Egypt, but in the family tomb, the cave of Machpelah.

Sometime later Jacob falls ill and death looms. Joseph is informed and comes to his father’s side. Jacob relates to Joseph his covenantal encounter with God at Bet El and then announces that he will consider Ephraim and Menashe as his own children. He then returns to his life story, recounting the death of Rachel near Bethlehem and Jacob’s failure to bring her even the short distance into the land of Canaan and the family tomb. Immediately after this, Jacob announces his desire to bless Menashe and Ephraim.

The commentators (See Rashi, Ramban, and Nehama Leibowitz for an excellent compilation) understand Jacob’s focus on the death of Rachel as a sort of last confession in which Jacob pleads with Joseph to treat him better than he treated Joseph’s mother. After all, if Jacob couldn’t be troubled to transport Rachel a very short distance from Beit Lehem Machpelah, why should Joseph bother bringing Jacob all the way from Egypt to Hevron? This is compelling and dramatic stuff, as a dying Jacob painfully confronts a perhaps-long-repressed failure and trauma in the hope that his son can forgive him and grant him his dying wish.

But it doesn’t quite add up. First, Jacob doesn’t actually make any such requests of Joseph. Rather, after Jacob finishes with the death of Rachel, he immediately turns to the blessing of Ephraim and Menashe (48:8). Second, Jacob shouldn’t need to beseech Joseph at this point. Recall that as the parsha opened, Jacob made Joseph swear an oath (a shevua) that he would bury him in Machpelah and not in Egypt. Therefore, by the time Jacob reaches his death-bed he should have no worries that Joseph will treat him as he treated Rachel – he already made him take an oath to that effect! So the commentators have a difficulty: If they are right that Jacob is asking Joseph not to treat him midah k’neged midah, measure for measure, with Jacob’s treatment of Rachel, why didn’t Jacob bring this up either before, or at least immediately after, he made Joseph take an oath on the matter? This is Problem Number One – Shouldn’t Jacob have brought this up earlier?

Now onto Problem Number Two. After Jacob tells Joseph that he wants to bless Joseph’s sons, Joseph shepherds them towards their grandfather, whose “eyes were heavy with age and could not see – v’einei Yisrael kavdu mizoken v’lo yukhal lirot” (48:10). After Jacob hugs and kisses them, Joseph then arranges them for their blessings, putting Ephraim, the younger, to Jacob’s left, and Menashe to Jacob’s right. Jacob disregards this ordering, and, even in his blindness, puts his right hand on Ephraim’s head.

The Baal HaTurim notes that the word ‘zoken -- age’ in 48:10 is spelled haser, that is, it is spelled without a vav and so looks like the word ‘zaken – aged.’ According to the Baal haTurim, this is meant to evoke the verse “vayehi ki zaken Yitzhak v’tikh’hena einav merot – and Isaac was aged and his eyes grew weak” (27:1). By way of reminder, aged Isaac calls upon Esau to bring him meat so that he can bless Esau before his death, Rebecca overhears and tells Jacob to dress up like Esau so that he can take the blessing.

So what’s the connection between the stealing of Isaac’s blessing and the current episode according to the Baal haTurim? Just as Jacob deceived his blind father at the time that blessings were being handed out, so too Jacob’s own son attempts to deceive him in his blindness by putting Ephraim and Menashe in the opposite order from which Jacob intended to bless them.

But this is difficult as well for two reasons. First, Joseph did not successfully reverse the order of the b’rakhot. Jacob’s hands found their way to the right children, and despite Joseph’s second and heavy-handed attempt to make it otherwise, Jacob does bless Ephraim first.Second, what was so bad about Joseph’s ordering of his own sons for blessing by their grandfather? Where was the deception? Joseph did not deliberately try to deceive Jacob (who had not yet expressed his preferred ordering); he just put his kids in what seemed to be the right order. Contrast this with Jacob and Rebecca’s intent to take the b’rakha meant for Esau. Moreover, there was no affirmative deception along the lines of Jacob’s donning of animal skins to impersonate Esau. Joseph never said “This one’s Ephraim and that one’s Menashe.” And yet the Baal haTurim believes that in this incident Jacob is receiving a comeuppance. This is Problem Number Two: Why is the Baal haTurim, when all the evidence seems to the contrary, convinced that Joseph must be engaged in some sort of deception?

It seems to me that these problems may answer each other. That is, Jacob’s misplaced confession to Joseph may be forcing the Baal haTurim to find a deception in response.
As Rachel pointed out to me, Jacob probably had a very good reason for delaying his confession until after he had obtained an oath from Joseph: if he had made his confession earlier, Joseph might not have agreed to his request! Nonetheless, Jacob wants to get this off his chest before he dies, and so confesses on his death bed.

From Jacob’s perspective it’s all quite defensible, but I think Joseph thought otherwise. Joseph probably felt manipulated and betrayed. Recall that his father was not satisfied by Joseph’s statement that he would bury him in Machpelah and insisted that he take an oath. Why was he so insistent? The Kli Yakar offers several reasons, among which that Jacob thought Joseph would have a harder time convincing Pharoah to let him go on a discretionary errand than on one mandated by oath. But I wonder whether Joseph read it differently, thinking “My father made me swear an oath precisely so that he could later re-open a decades-old wound without fear of repercussions, at least repercussions in kind (or measure for measure). That sort of manipulation makes me really angry!”

Bound by his oath, but angered by his father’s manipulation, Joseph must cast about for some other means with which to strike back at his father. This sense of seething emotion seeking a channel may be what leads the Baal haTurim to read deliberate deception into Joseph’s ‘switching’ of Ephraim and Menashe. As noted earlier, the blessing of Ephraim and Menashe comes immediately after Jacob finishes his confession. It is therefore natural to suspect that Joseph, seeking an opportunity to retaliate, would do so in the very next episode. The parallels to a blind Isaac allow the Baal haTurim to complete the puzzle, making Joseph a deliberate deceiver of his father.

It’s interesting to note that the p’shat in the Baal haTurim doesn’t go quite in this direction. Remember that the Baal haTurim seemed to say that Joseph’s deception of Jacob here was a repayment of Jacob’s deception of Isaac (i.e., Joseph --> Jacob --> Isaac). I’ve argued that the only reason to think that Joseph engaged in any deception at all is his anger at his father. Therefore, under my reading, Joseph’s deception of Jacob is in repayment of Jacob’s manipulation of Joseph (i.e., Joseph <-- --> Jacob). I want to suggest that the Baal haTurim’s reading may reflect Jacob’s perception of the incident. In previous weeks we have seen how Jacob is either indifferent to or clueless about his family members’ emotions. Here, too, Jacob may not understand that Joseph is outraged or why. Therefore, when he perceives attempted deception, his emotionally blind mind jumps to the perfect symmetry (son --> father/son --> father) suggested by the Baal haTurim.

VaYehi 5767 -- Rachel on Birkat haBanim

In Parashat VaYehi, Ya’akov blesses Ephra’im and Menashe as if they were his own children. Yosef lines them up with Ephra’im, the younger, on Ya’akov’s left, and Menashe, the elder, on Ya’akov’s right (miy’min). (B’reisheet 48:13) Ya’akov, who has lost his sight due to his advanced age, actually crosses his hands in blessing Ephra’im and Menashe, so that his left hand rests upon Menashe’s head, and his right hand upon Ephra’im’s. (48:14) Later (in 48:18-20), Yosef asks Ya’akov why he has done this, and Ya’akov explains that it was his intention to chose the younger over the elder.

This harkens back to Ya’akov’s own experience of being chosen, over his older brother Esav, to receive his father’s blessing. What I find particularly interesting, though, is that this idea of choosing the younger son over the elder seems to have skipped a generation. Ya’akov clearly seems to prefer Yosef to Binyamin.

However, I noticed a few things upon looking closely at the aforementioned passage, as well as the verse in Parashat VaYishlah where Binyamin receives his name. (B’reisheet 35:18) Rachel actually names him Ben-Oni as she is dying, but Ya’akov decides to call him Binyamin. According to the commentators, Rachel chooses Ben-Oni (from onah, meaning affliction), because he is the son of her grief (Ben-Aveli). [The name is associated with Lehem Oni (the Bread of Affliction, which refers to matzah), and is particularly appropriate because Binyamin was born (and Rachel died) in Beit Lehem (Bethlehem), literally the “House of Bread.”]

According to the Ramban, Ya’akov -- who does not change any of his other children’s names from the names chosen by their mothers -- re-interprets the name Ben-Oni to mean Ben-Kohi, son of my strength. In taking onah, affliction, as a source of strength rather than grief, Ya’akov then translates the name to Binyamin, son of the right (hand). The right hand, y’min, is associated not only with the quality of strength, but also with success and might. In translating Binyamin’s name, he retains Rachel’s original idea, but also ascribes these good qualities to his son.

Later, Ya’akov tries to protect Binyamin when he attempts to prevent him from going back to Egypt with his brothers; it was Yosef who he sent into harm’s way. This suggests that perhaps Ya’akov favored Binyamin over Yosef. So the pattern of favoring the younger son, or at least making him an equal to his elder brother, is continued through the generations.

A further thought: The passage where Ya’akov blesses Ephra’im and Menashe is the source for Birkat HaBanim, the Blessing of the Children said by parents on Friday night. In fact, the blessing for sons actually asks God to make them like Ephra’im and Menashe (Y’simcha Elokim k’Ephra’im v’ki’Menashe). It is customary in many homes for parents to place their hands upon the heads of their children (as Ya’akov did) when reciting the blessing. In my home, rather than placing his hands on each of our heads, my own father would stretch out his arms towards us upon reciting the Priestly Blessing. While we have teased him about this habit, in addition to stretching his arms out, he also crosses his arms in the process. Whether or not this was a conscious decision to reflect the practice used by Ya’akov in the original Birkat HaBanim, I cannot say. However, it certainly interests me from an anthropological perspective, and I would have to say (pun intended): Right on, Abba!

-Rachel Slutsky-Kaplowitz

VaYeshev 5767 -- The Binding of Joseph and the Tragedy of Jacob

Jacob’s sending of Joseph to go find his brothers shepherding in Shechem is strangely, and strongly, evocative of the Binding of Isaac. In each instance a father is asked to sacrifice, or asks to sacrifice, the life of a favorite son. An extensive list of similarities, as well as a few differences is presented below. Given that there are all these parallels between the stories of the binding of Isaac and the sending of Joseph, it seems appropriate to ask who is playing which part in the Binding of Joseph, and how this similarity informs our understanding of this later event.

The uniquely favored son is chosen:
> It is through Yitzchak that Abraham’s Jewish line continues (ki b’Yitzchak yikareh lekha zera) > Although Jacob’s line continues through all his children, Yosef is favored to such an extent that he is referred to as Toldot Yaakov, the generations of Jacob.

Hineni
>When called upon, Avraham says Hineni (to God, to Yitzchak, to angel)
>When called upon by Jacob, Yosef says Hineni

Zrizut – zeal to fulfill the command:
> Avraham (Vayashkem Avraham baboker) desires to do God’s will.
> Yosef (see Rashi – hineni is lashon zrizut) desires to do his father’s will.

What almost happens:
>Avraham kills Yitzchak
> Brothers kill Yosef

The blood of an animal is shed instead:
> “And behold there was a ram,” which Avraham slaughters in place of Isaac
> Brothers kill a goat in place of actually killing Yosef (and dip coat into it)

The eating and ripping of flesh:
> The knife with which Avraham is to slaughter Yitzchak is called a maakhelet – an ‘eater’ – because, as Rashi notes, a knife eats its way through flesh as it cuts.
>The brothers claim that a wild animal came along v’akhalat’hu, and ate Yosef. When Jacob sees the bloody coat he wails hayah ra’ah akhalat’hu, tarof toraf Yosef – a wild animal has eaten him, Yosef has been ripped apart!

Angelic Intervention
>Angel ensures that the deed is not realized: calls on Avraham to make sure that he does not slaughter Yitzchak.
> Angel (Rashi; but see Ibn Ezra who disagrees) ensures that the deed is realized: Gabriel intervenes to make sure that Yosef does find his brothers.

Who is anointing the task?
> God’s direct command to Avraham, seemingly in contravention of the covenant.
> God’s covenant with Avraham that promises Jewish descent from Canaan.

Who is being tested?
>Avraham – (‘v’HaElokim nisah et Avraham’)
>Yosef. After all, he is the one who is called upon. Or perhaps also Jacob, who knows that he is sending his favorite son to suffering, if not death.

What would Success mean for Jewish history?
> The end. Avraham could not be allowed to succeed: the slaughter of Isaac would have prevented Jewish history from occurring.
> The continuation. Yosef could not be allowed to fail: he needed to find his brothers, and to be sold by them. Otherwise the descent to Egypt would not begin and Jewish history would not play itself out. (See Rashi on "Me'emek Hevron" for this idea).

Who goes into the task knowing full well what it means?
>Avraham -- But Yitzchak catches on.
> Jacob (see Rashi who explains he was fulfilling the covenantal promise above). Also Yosef (see Rashi explaining that Yosef knew how much his brothers hated him and could not fail to realize that this errand would endanger him)

Perhaps the most natural way to map the Binding of Isaac unto the Sending of Joseph is to match the father-son roles. Jacob is sending Joseph to what he believes is his death, just like Abraham did with Isaac. Joseph is therefore an Isaac character, and Jacob is like Abraham.

There are several problems with this reading. First, Rashi describes Joseph as having zrizut to do the mitzvah, the same characterization Rashi gave to Abraham, but not Isaac. Second, as Rashi points out, Joseph had zrizut even though he knew what was being asked of him – it was as though Joseph was being tested. In the Binding of Isaac we read that God tested Abraham, not Isaac. Therefore, Rashi suggests that Isaac did not initially know what was in store, but that he caught on as they drew near. But Joseph, according to Rashi, understood the threat immediately and still set off on his journey.

This suggests perhaps that Joseph is an Abraham character. But where does that leave Jacob? This seemingly puts him almost into the position that God was to Abraham. Just as God knew that Isaac would survive, so too Jacob knows that his descendants must descend to Egypt (See Rashi to ‘me-emek hevron’) in order to fulfill God’s covenant with Abraham, ki ger yihiyeh zarakha . That is, he ought to know that Joseph won’t be killed by his brothers.

Jacob, unlike Abraham, is not being asked to sacrifice a life (he won’t actually threaten Joseph, and he knows that Joseph won’t actually die), but is rather asking Joseph to sacrifice what Joseph fears may be a life – his own. In this way the relationship between Jacob and Joseph is like that between God and Abraham. God knew what He was asking, and how it would come out, and Abraham knew what he was being asked, and was willing to see it through any way it happened. Likewise, Jacob knows that he is putting Joseph into danger but knows that Joseph will not be killed by his brothers if the covenant is to be fulfilled. Joseph understands what is being asked of him, that he endanger himself, and is willing to see it through either way. Isaac, on the other hand, does not, at least initially, understand what is being asked of him.

But there is a problem with this as well: if Jacob really knows what will happen to Joseph, and knows that he is sending him in fulfillment of a divine covenant, why would he be fooled by the brothers’ representations that Joseph was dead? In other words, while Joseph, like Abraham, understands what is being asked from him, but not how it will turn out, Jacob, like the Almighty (and relying on the Almighty), presumably knows that everything will turn out, more or less, all right.

I believe that this is what was bothering Rashi when he wrote his comment to “hayah ra’ah akhalat’hu, tarof toraf Yosef – a wild animal has eaten him, Yosef has been ripped apart!” Bereishit 37:33. There Rashi says that Jacob did not mean this literally. Rather, he was seized by the ruah hakodesh and saw that Joseph would eventually suffer from the affections of the wife of Potifar – an evil beast as it were – who would rip Yosef’s garment as he escaped from her. Why is it necessary to find this temporally distant meaning to Jacob’s statement?

One commentary, the siftei hahamim, explains by asking how Jacob could know that this is what happened to Yosef, since the brother’s had not yet told him their story. Therefore, Jacob must be thinking of something else. But this is not compelling, as the brothers had already laid out convincing evidence – Joseph’s blood stained coat – that would naturally lead Jacob to the conclusion that Joseph had been eaten by wild beasts; they didn’t need to tell him.

Rather, Rashi’s problem is that Jacob must have known that Joseph simply would not be killed on this mission. As we noted above, Jacob is arguably in the same position as God was to Abraham, l’havdil, the puppet master, and so knew that just as Isaac would not die, Joseph would not die. Therefore, Rashi asks, why did Jacob exclaim with apparent pathos that Joseph had been consumed and ripped apart?

The answer is that, no matter the parallelism, Jacob is not God. While it was given to Jacob to understand that Joseph would not die at the hands of his brothers, Jacob was not blessed with omniscience. He therefore did not know of all the unpleasant consequences of Joseph’s descent into Egypt – such as the advances of Potifar’s wife and Joseph’s imprisonment – before sending Joseph on his way, and so was genuinely surprised and upset by the revelation of Joseph's future suffering derived from Eshet Potiphar.

But this begs the question: Why did God choose to reveal Joseph’s future suffering at the hands of Potifar’s wife to Jacob immediately after Joseph is sold? I want to suggest that this represents a divine rebuke of Jacob’s cavalier (puppet-master, if you will) attitude towards Joseph. Just as Jacob is kicking up his heels and congratulating himself on a job well-done in facilitating the progression of Jewish history (and probably thinking, that since the brothers wouldn’t kill Joseph “no harm, no foul”), he receives a divine news-flash that Joseph will not just be a ger, a sojourner, in Egypt but will also suffer hatred and imprisonment.

In certain ways, this is ironic and tragic, and seems quite reminiscent of Shakespeare or the Greeks – the great man at his moment of triumph realizes that he has erred terribly. And I'm attracted to this reading in part for that dramatic reason. But there is an important moral message as well. Even when we think that we are doing the right thing, implementing a divine precept even, we should be careful not to take lightly the possible, and sometimes unpredictable, consequences for others.

VaYishlach 5767 -- Wrestling with Freud

This week we will look at the changing of Jacob’s name to Israel. As Rashi sees it, Jacob’s hand-to-hand combat on the riverbank is a clash with the ministering angel who represents the nation of Esau. As Rashi further explains, when Jacob asks the angel to bless him, he is really asking the angel to acknowledge that the b’rachot that Jacob received from Isaac were rightfully his, and were not obtained through noxious trickery. This is very important to Jacob, as he is terrified that Esau, whom he will meet in the morning, might still want to kill him because of the pilfered blessings.

The angel apparently consents and tells Jacob “your name will no longer be called Jacob, but Yisrael; ki sarita im Elokim v’im anashim vatukhal – because you wrestled with God and humans and you overcame.” Rashi explains the first part of this statement – your name will no longer be called Jacob – as an acknowledgement that Jacob deserved the b’rachot, because the name Ya’akov could connote trickery and deceit. By changing this name and wiping away the identity of Jacob as ‘the trickster,’ the angel acknowledges Jacob’s authentic right to the blessings. In a sense, then, the angel blesses Jacob with the certainty that Esau will not try to kill him when they meet.

But the second part of the statement is difficult. What does it mean to wrestle with God? At a more basic level, does Elokim really mean God here? There are several approaches in the commentaries. The RaSaG and Unkelos translate sarita im Elokim according to the most obvious definition: wrestling before God. (I’m not really sure what it means to wrestle ‘before’ anyone, but see RaSag (“lifnei Hashem”) and Unkelos (“Kadam Hashem”)). The Radak explains that wrestling with God refers to Jacob’s battle with the angel, and so associates Elokim not with God per se, but with the heavenly host. I am uncomfortable with all of these explanations for the following reason: they seem to glorify an attribute of Jacob – his physical strength and battle-hardiness – that is simply not worth memorializing in a momentous mid-life change of name.

I am similarly troubled by the explanations given for “v’im anashim vatukhal – and [you have wrestled] with humans and you have overcome.” According to Rashi and the Radak ‘humans’ is a reference to Esau and Laban, who contended with Jacob, but over whom Jacob ultimately prevailed. The mere fact of Jacob’s victory over and escape from Esau and Laban also does not seem worthy of grand memorializing in a divinely inspired name. In fact, Jacob’s cunning – by which he gained Esau’s birthright and blessing and escaped from Laban – seems awfully similar to the attribute of deception that was just removed from his identity through the name change! Why would it then be immediately restored by a new name that memorializes Jacob’s grappling with, and ultimate defeat of, other people?

It seems to me that in order for the new name Yisrael to make sense, it must evoke good moral qualities that have become the new essence of our Ancestor. This is certainly the case when Abraham and Sarah’s names are given; they are not given the names “He who pretends his wife is his sister,” or “She who mistreats her maid.” I argue that such utterly inappropriate names are fairly analogous to the explanations of Yisrael discussed above, which more or less amount to “He who has been physically stronger than angels and more cunning and successful than men” (or as my chavruta characterized it “He who is no longer a trickster but a Big Bad Dude”).

I want to suggest a re-reading of this verse that emphasizes the positive moral qualities that we would expect to inhere in a name, and that speak to Jacob’s experiences. “Ki sarita im Elokim v’im anashim vatukhal” should not be read to say that Jacob has wrestled with God and humans and has been victorious.

Instead, this verse commemorates Jacob’s wrestling with the demands of justice – Elokim – and with his own baser desires –the enoshi, or human, aspects – leading to the emergence of a refined character, representing his true soul – vatukhal. Put in psychological terms, Ki sarita im Elokim v’im anashim vatukhal refers to Jacob’s successful synthesis of the Superego, elokim, with the Id, anashim, thereby enabling, or granting yekholet to, his Ego to emerge.

This reading of Elokim as ‘justice,’ rather than ‘God,’ is quite reasonable. First, Elokim is associated specifically with God’s attribute of judgment. Second, Elohim sometimes just means judges, such as members of a beit din, and not God! (See for example Rashi to Exodus 21:5).

Moreover, this reading allows us to emphasize Jacob’s noble characteristics and the experiences that have forced him to grow. In his earlier days, Jacob seemed to want what he wanted, and to figure out a way to get it – he exercised his Id. He bought Esau’s birthright when Esau was vulnerable and deceived his father and stole Esau’s blessing. But Jacob also was threatened with, and indeed received, recompense for pursuing his inappropriate desires. Esau threatened to kill him, and just as Jacob had deceived Isaac, who could not see, Laban deceived Jacob at night, when he could not see, by substituting Leah for Rachel. Arguably, Esau’s threats and Laban’s deceptions were appropriate justice, midah k’neged midah – measure for measure – and reflect the demands of the Superego.

By the time Jacob is returning to Canaan, he has seen the error of his ways and has done teshuvah. He sends messengers ahead to curry favor and ask forgiveness from his brother. One of his instructions is to tell Esau “Im Lavan Garti – with Laban I have dwelled.” As Rashi notes, Garti is gematria for 613. To expand on Rashi, what Jacob is really telling Esau is this: “I used to give into my impulses, and that’s what came between us, but now I have mastered them. Know that I have changed by the fact that I managed to keep the commandments during my time with the idolatrous and thieving Laban. I am not the Jacob (trickster) you knew.”

As human beings we are emphatically not perfect, and it is not in our nature to be so. Our enoshi attributes are an indispensable part of our identities both as universal humans and as individuals. For this reason, the angel admiringly notes not that Jacob has acceded to perfect justice and vanquished his humanity – which would be impossible – but rather that he has wrestled with each, Superego and Id. At the end of the process: vatukhal – and a complete (kol) and able (yakhol) Ego was able to emerge.

VaYetze Yaakov 5767 -- Kisses Flowing Like Water

This week’s D’var Torah will be in the form of the Rashi that I believe should have been written. Doubtless, an oversight. J

When Jacob comes to the well in Haran, he sees Rachel and then single-handedly rolls aside the stone that covers the well. The verse then says “VaYashk et haTzon – He poured water for the Flock.” Bereshit 29:10. The next verse then says “VaYishak Yaakov L’Rahel – Jacob kissed Rachel.” Note two things here: First, vowels aside, VaYashk and VaYishak are spelled exactly the same. Second, they are not from the same roots and have different meanings. The root in the first instance is Nun, Shin, Kuf, and in the second is Shin, Kuf, Hay. Nonetheless, these two different words, coming from two different roots, come out the same.

One more point before we get to our Rashi. In Bereshit 29:13, we are told regarding Laban “VaYichabek Lo VaYinashek Lo – He hugged and he kissed Jacob.”

Now our ‘Rashi:’
VaYinashek Lo -- When Jacob kissed Rachel, the text said VaYishak; now, when Laban kisses Jacob, in a grammatically identical circumstance, the text says VaYinashek. That is, when Jacob kissed Rachel, one letter from the root (Nun) fell, but when Laban kissed Jacob, everything was proper.
This is because when Laban kissed Jacob the kiss was merely superficial. Laban was actually trying to find Jacob’s money, but needed to do so under the cover of hugging and kissing (See Rashi to VaYichabek Lo and VaYinashek Lo). For this reason he made his kiss as ostentatious as possible. The Torah likewise spells his ‘kiss’ with all of the letters such that we too would be unmistakably and instantly struck by the fact that Laban is kissing Jacob. However, when Jacob kissed Rachel, he did so out of unmistakable joy and love, and so his kiss rushed forward like water. For this reason the text states “VaYishak Yaakov L’Rahel – Jacob kissed Rachel like flowing water.” Because Jacob kissed Rachel with true intention, not worrying about appearances, the Torah does not go out of its way to declare what Jacob is up to, and, corresponding to Jacob’s heartfelt enthusiasm, allows one of the letters in the root to drop.

Drisha Achrina (another explanation): Laban’s kiss was offensive to Jacob. The same root for kiss – Nun, Shin, Kuf – also spells NeSheK: Weapon. Thus, when the Torah uses the full root in VaYinashek Lo we also learn that Laban’s kiss was, like a weapon, offensive to Jacob. In Gematria VaYichabek Lo VaYinashek Lo is equal to “Chibko LiGzol Mah Sh’Alav – He hugged him in order to rob him” (Baal haTurim). Jacob’s kiss, on the other hand, was as desirable to Rachel as water is to a shepherdess in the desert.

May our Shabbat and Torah study be joyous and heartfelt, like the first kiss of our ancestors Rachel and Jacob.

Toldot 5767 -- The meaning of the birthright

Let’s do some learning of a few verses across the commentaries. We’ll look at the sale of the birthright – 1) what was sold, 2) what was it sold for, and 3) what does Esau mean when he says that the birthright is no good to him as he is heading towards death?

See Bereishit 25:31-32.

“Vayomer Yaakov: Michra cha’yom et bechoratcha li. Vayomer Esav: Hine Anochi Holech Lamoot, v’Lamah zeh li Bechorah. And Jacob said: sell to me as clear as day (see Rashi) your birthright. And Esau said: Here I am headed toward death, and why do I have this birthright?”

We’ll look at Rashi, Rashbam & the Ibn Ezra and Radak, Sforno, Hizkuni.


1) Note that there are 3 approaches to what the birthright was:
a. It represented inheritance of Isaac’s wealth (Rashbam)
b. It represented inheritance of the land of Israel (Hizkuni)
c. It represented the chance/obligation to do Temple service prior to the advent of the Priesthood (Rashi and also Hizkuni to 25:34).

2) There are also 2 approaches to the terms of the exchange.
a. Jacob literally bought the birthright with the bowl of lentils (Sforno).
b. Jacob paid Esau in cash, and then gave him lentils to symbolize completion of the deal (Rashbam, Hizkuni).

3) There are 4 explanations of Esau’s statement “Anochi Holech LaMoot – I am going to die – v’Lamah Li Bechora – and what point is there in the birthright?”
a. Esau is literally dying of fatigue and hunger (Sforno)
b. Esau leads a dangerous life, hunting beasts in the wild (Rashbam, Ibn Ezra and Radak).
c. Esau knows that he must die sometime, and that will be before the conquest of the land of Israel, so his share in the land will be worthless to him (Hizkuni)
d. Esau feels that his obligation to do Temple Service – derived from the birthright -- will lead him to death, as he will fail to do the service properly and incur punishment. (Rashi)

Of this last category, note that there are implicitly 3 distinct reasons why Esau was willing to sell his birthright. 1) because of Esau’s particularly dangerous lifestyle, he discounts the value of anything occurring even in the near future, because he may not be alive to take advantage of it (a & b); 2) even if Esau led a very safe lifestyle, he would probably not be alive by the time the right vests – although his descendants will be – and so he dismisses the birthright as worthless (c); and 3) Esau believes that the obligations associated with the birthright – which he will be alive to receive – will themselves lead to death.

Let’s now focus on Rashi’s interpretation. As mentioned, before the advent of the priesthood, Temple Service to God was done by first-born sons, just as Aaron is the first-born son of Amram and Yocheved. According to Rashi, Esau believes that no good can come from doing this Service, but only warnings, punishment and ultimately death. All that Esau focuses on are the ways in which this is a burden, the ways in which he might err. Therefore, he asks, ‘if this birthright will lead me to death, what on earth do I want it for?’

There are many times when we feel like mitzvot can be a burden, times when we may be tempted to ask, like Esau, “what do I need this for? All I can do is screw up!” As a matter of fact, I believe that one of the main arguments of early Christianity was precisely this: that, challilah, God created mitzvoth so that humanity would sin. Of course, the opposite is true – God gave us Torah and Mitzvot so that we should have opportunities to succeed and to draw closer to God. The theory is, the more commandments, the more chances to actually get it right. As Pirkei Avot states: “God desired to give merit to Israel and so therefore increased for them Torah and Mitzvot, as the verse states: Hashem Hafetz L’maan Tzidko, Yagdil Torah v’Yadir.”

God gives us these opportunities to climb the ladder to a more meaningful life precisely because we have such a hard time doing it. Mitzvot are opportunities to connect to the Divine. Although they certainly can be burdensome, let us never make the mistake of Esau and ask: what are they good for? As Jews, far from bringing us to our death, mitzvot give us life.

Chayei Sarah 5767 -- Bringing Godliness To Earth

When Avraham makes Eliezer vow not to take a Canaanite wife for Yitzchak, he takes the vow “Bashem, Elokei Hashamayim v’elokei Haaretz – By the Almighty, God of Heaven and God of Land” (24:3). Avraham then promises Eliezer that he will not go unaided: “Hashem Elokei HaShamayim Asher L’kachani MiBeit Avi uM’eretz Moladti … Hu Yishlach Malakho L’fanekha… -- The Almighty, God of Heaven, who took me out of my ancestral home and `and will send an angel ahead of you” (24:7).

What we immediately notice is that God is referred to differently in these two passages. First, as both God of Heaven and God of Land, but second, only as God of Heaven. This difference is particularly striking when we think about the context: that is, assuming that Avraham wanted to refer to different aspects of God in these two situations, we might have expected that he would do so in a manner opposite to his actual choice. In the first instance, Avraham is swearing an oath, invoking the power of God. Oaths are intangible things, perhaps belonging to the Divine ether, which we back up with the power of the Almighty. We therefore might have expected Avraham to simply refer to Elokei HaShamayim in this context. Moreover, it is surprising that Avraham refers only to Elokei HaShamayim when he promises Eliezer angelic help. Angels and other siyata dishmaya (heavenly help) such as Avraham promises, are a manifestation of God’s power on earth. It is therefore very surprising that Avraham referred only to God of Heaven here.

So why is God first called Elokei HaShamayim v’Elokei Haaretz, and then only Elokei HaShamayim? Ramban and Rashi each answer that the discrepancy is based not on the difference between oaths and angelic help, but on the chronology embedded in Avraham’s statements. That is, whereas Avraham’s first statement – the vow – occurs squarely in the present, his second statement – promising Divine help – refers to past occurrences to describe God (“Asher L’kachani MiBeit Avi uM’eretz Moladti -- who took me out of my ancestral home”).

According to Ramban, Hashem Elokei Haaretz does not mean “The Almighty, God of the Earth (the world)” but instead means “The Almighty, God of The Land,” that is, the Land of Israel. When God took Avraham out of Ur Kasdim, Avraham had never been to The Land. Therefore, God was not yet God of the Land of Israel, and so could not be called Elokei Haaretz, which, to the Ramban, means Elokei Eretz Yisrael. God could therefore only be described as Elokei HaShamayim.

Rashi says that Hashem Elokei Haaretz really does mean “God of the Earth.” There is an obvious problem with this approach: God has sovereignty over the world just like the rest of the Universe – this is, after all, God we are talking about. God was just described by MalkhiTzedek, the King of Shalem, as “Koneh Shamayim V’Aretz – the owner, via creation, of the heavens and earth” a few chapters prior. So how could the Torah describe the Ribono Shel Olam as only the God of Heaven, even in the past?

This was bothering Rashi, and he has an answer: Before God first appeared to Avraham in Ur Kasdim, people were not accustomed to having the Name of God in their mouths. Thus, when Avraham describes how God took him out of his homeland, he uses the descriptor that was then appropriate – Elokei Hashamayim, God of the heavens only.

The Hizkuni agrees with Rashi and brings a proof. In the first b’racha of the Amidah, which praises God based on our ancestors’ relationships with God, we say “Barukh atah Hashem, Elokeinu v’Elokei Avoteinu: Elokei Avraham, etc.” We do not say “Barukh atah Hashem, Elokeinu Melekh HaOlam.” As the Hizkuni points out, it would not be accurate to say that God was Ruler of the World at the time that this relationship with the first Jew was formed. Therefore we simply call God “Elokei Avraham.”

The status of God as Ruler and God of the Earth is therefore dependent on what happens in the human sphere. This is reminiscent of a famous question based on two verses in Psalms that are seemingly contradictory. The first verse states “Lashem HaAretz u’mlo’ah, tevel v’yoshvei vah – The earth belongs to God, along with all who dwell upon it.” The second states “HaShamayim, Shamayim Lashem, v’haAretz Natan Livnei Adam – Heaven belongs to God, but God gave the Earth to human beings.” So who does the earth belong to – humans or God?

The Gemara in Berachot offers one solution (I believe in the name of Rabbi Yitzchak): before we make a bracha, the world is God’s; by means of the blessing, God allows us to acquire the world and derive benefit from it. Note that this interpretation reads the verses in the chronological order that they were just presented.

But what if you reverse the verses such that initially God gave the world to human beings, but at the end the world belongs to God? This is an approach that I heard from Rabbi Elie Silverberg, I believe in the name of Rav Joseph Soloveitchik. According to this reading, we do not acquire the earth from God. Rather, we take that which God gave to all of humanity from the start and sanctify it. This idea can also be found in the Rashi to Parashat Terumah. The Torah commands the Jewish people to make an elevating donation of materials to God. Rashi says: “To God? To God’s Name.” We are not literally giving these materials to God – they are of the earth, and God gave the earth to us. We are, however, given the commandment and the opportunity to elevate those earthy materials to a more meaningful plain.

Perhaps, then, we can understand the puzzle of the contradictory psalms not as before a beracha and after, but before Avraham and after. Jewish life is not a matter of merely acquiring the earth to exploit, with proper gratitude to God, but about infusing this world, which is ours to manage, with Godliness and righteousness. Before Abraham, these virtues were widespread only in the heavens; Abraham spread them on the earth, and made other people accustomed to them.

May we merit to spread Godliness and righteousness and may we soon see the verse fulfilled: “V’Hayah Hashem L’Melekh al Kol Haaretz, Bayom Hahu Yih’yeh Hashem Echad U’shmo Ehad – And God will become the Ruler over all the Earth. On that day God will be recognized, by name, as The Unique.”