Noach 5769

There is a Simpsons episode in which Bart is playing with a pop up book of Bible stories for children. He's reached the story of the flood and as he pulls the tab of the book causing a wave of water to hit the ark, Bart yells out "...Oh, Noah, Noah! Save us! Save us!" and in Noah's voice Bart laughs and says "NO!"

As humorous as this vignette is, I think that it aptly illustrates traditional Jewish ambivalence about Noach. At the close of last week's parasha, HaShem was ready to destroy humanity as well as all of the animals due to man's dedication to evil except that Noach "found favor in G-d's eye".

Rashi, the prolific French Medievel commentator, notes that our sages disagreed as to Noach's merit. Some felt that it was only in comparison to his debased generation that Noach was of note. Others thought that had he lived in a more worthy era that Noach would have been even more righteous. Rashi also draws a distinction between Noach described as walking with G-d, whereas Avraham Avinu walked before G-d.

Perhaps the most distinctive difference between Avraham and Noach is the latter's lack of concern for the community. There isn't the slightest hint in the text of Noach trying to help anyone else. Rashi does note that in Midrash Hane'elam, Zohar Chadash 28a, the text says that rain came before the flood, the rain being one last opportunity for teshuva for humanity. I would say that this midrash is another expression of our tradition's discomfort with Noach's lack of effort at helping anyone outside of his own family.

If Noach represents complete lack of concern for the community - or at least turning one's back to community and isolating oneself from it, the parasha also presents the reduction to absurdity in the other direction: the Towel of Babel. In this story the community is united in an almost ridiculous attempt at building a tower to the heavens (a carbon monofilament of buckyballs is still some time away). Instead of using their unity for good, humankind forms a community in apparent rebellion against G-d. All of this thematically lays the groundwork for the end of this week's parasha: the introduction of Avram, the person who will recognize the oneness of G-d and build a community around this recognition. Our tradition is based on the formation of community that acts in the purpose of doing good. This represents a synthesis of righteousness (like Noach) coupled with the power of a community in action (as in the Tower of Babel).

This week we have an excellent opportunity to engage in community building. The Ashrei project's action week is One aspect of this week's activities is something that is particularly dear to me: KI's daily minyan. Our community comes together in the Rabb chapel for minyan (Sundays at 8 AM in the chapel and 7 PM at 100 Centre Street.) When you come to minyan you have an opportunity to connect with the community, engage in Jewish learning, comfort a mourner by your very presence, and daven in our emotionally warm chapel.

Adam Solomon

Beresheit 5769

Divine Speech

Beresheit

 

Va’yomer Elokim y’he ohr va’y’he ohr (1:3)

And God said: Let there be light! And there was light

 

Speech is problematic.  We use speech to telegraph ideas from our minds into the minds of others. We have no means apart from material speech to transfer immaterial ideas. The problem with material speech is that it often corresponds poorly (or not at all) to immaterial ideas that we mean them to convey. This holds for all speech, including Divine speech. The solitary exception to this rule is God’s first speech that created light.

Y’he ohr materializes immediately as y’he ohr, separated only by a conjunctive vav.  Identical words render both Divine utterance and the resulting creation. We might infer from this that created light corresponded precisely to God’s idea of light.

From this point on, Divine speech never again produces identical creations. For example, here are God’s next three creative speeches:

1.                           vv. 6-7, God says “Y’he rakia (let there be a firmament)…  Va’ya’as Elokim et ha’rakia (and God made the firmament)”

2.                           v. 9, God says “v’tay-reh ha-yabashah (let the dry land appear)… va’y’he chain (and it was so)”

3.                           vv. 11-12, God says “tadshey ha-aretz desheh (let the earth sprout sprouts)… v’totzay ha-aretz desheh (and the earth brought forth sprouts)”

There is no more identity between speech and creation. In fact much of subsequent creation occurs by means of God’s making distinctions between things (havdalah) rather than by de novo creation (bara). By the sixth “day”, God appears to recognize that His words give rise to something other than His ideas for creation. With His final creative utterance, God creates Adam betzalmaynu kidmootaynu (…Adam, in our image, after our likeness). In similar fashion, everything we create, including our children, come out differently than we imagine, often in surprising ways.

Why didn’t creation correspond more precisely to Divine imagination? The answer must be located in language. God brought everything into being with His word (Baruch she’amar v’hayah ha’olam, from the shacharit liturgy). Words cannot produce identity with ideas. Therefore creation differs from God’s conception. As noted above, the creation of light is the exception to the rule. Light came into being identical to the words used to conceptualize it.

What was the first creation, light? According to Samson Rafael Hirsch, aleph-vav-resh (light) is related to the word ayin-vav-resh. This root means “to be awake, to become or to be receptive to external impressions (hence it also means ‘skin’, the organ of feeling)”. Light is an “awakening element that awakens all forces to development”.

God’s first speech created the process that awakens and illuminates the material universe. Awareness/light is a pure, unadulterated product of a Divine idea.  It was given to us in a form exactly as conceived by the mind of God. As no subsequent creation achieved as pure a translation from idea into speech, we are required to use our own powers of reason to study and understand everything else God created.

Jonah's Rage 5769

Having been expelled from the belly of the fish, Jonah answers Hashem’s second call and delivers his word to Nineveh: “Forty days more and Nineveh is overturned!) The entire city immediately repents with fasting, sackcloth and ashes.  Hashem sees and relents from punishment. And this is how Jonah responds:

 

Va’ yay-rah el Yona ra-ah gedolah va’yichar lo (Yonah 4:1)

 

And it seemed to Jonah most unseemly, and he was enraged.

 

We might have expected Jonah to sing praise as he does at the end of chapter 2: “…that which I vowed I will fulfill for Hashem’s salvation (2:10).” But here there is only recrimination. Verse 4:1 gives us two different expressions of unhappiness.

 

In the first, both noun and verb, va’yay-rah and ra-ah, derive from the root  resh-ayin-ayin, meaning “be evil, bad” (BDB).  The phrase suggests that Jonah is greatly displeased about something.  The second, va’yichar, derives from the root chet-resh-hay, meaning “burn, be kindled, of anger.” Jonah burns with rage.

 

It makes no sense to suggest that Jonah is both greatly displeased and enraged about the same thing. More likely, he is displeased about one thing and enraged at something else.

 

A clue to the source of Jonah’s displeasure might be found in Nechemia 2:10, the only other place in Tanach where the expression va’yay-rah ra-ah gedolah appears. There, the expression describes the opinion of Israel’s enemies toward Israel and one of her prophets. Perhaps in Sefer Yonah, the same expression describes the prophet Jonah’s opinion of Israel’s enemy, Nineveh. Jonah may be displeased at the unfavorable comparison of Israel to Nineveh. Israel sins, seldom repents, and often is punished. Nineveh sins, repents, and is forgiven.

 

What about va’yichar lo, Jonah’s rage? It is useful to begin with Jonah’s own explanation:

 

And he prayed to Hashem, saying please Hashem, was this not my declaration when I was yet on my soil? This is why I hurried to flee to Tarshish: because I know that You are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and full of loving kindness and relent from harm (4:2).

 

What does Jonah mean by “when I was yet on my soil”? Elsewhere in Tanach, we find one mention of Jonah in Israel (M’lachim II 14:24-25)

 

[King Jeroboam ben Johash] did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem: he did not turn away from all the sins of Jeroboam ben Nebat that he caused Israel to sin. He restored the boundary of Israel… like the word of Hashem, god of Israel, which He had spoken by the hand of His servant Jonah ben Amittai the prophet…

 

We don’t hear the nature of Jonah’s earlier prophecy. We know only that Israel sinned and yet her boundary was graciously restored. It appears that Jonah prophesied to a sinful Israel, but Hashem relented from harming her. Jonah’s prophesy, whatever it was, did not come true.

 

When Hashem calls Jonah to prophesy to Nineveh (1:1), he runs in the opposite direction. Jonah fears a repetition of his first prophetic experience, which would provoke the nations to call him a false prophet (Rashi).

 

What explains Jonah’s rage at Nineveh (4:1)? When Hashem compels Jonah to deliver a prophesy that he knows will not come true, Jonah feels as though he is being picked up and tossed overboard all over again. It is the repetition of this trauma (and perhaps the earlier trauma alluded to in M’lachim) that triggers Jonah’s rage. After the sheltering kikayon is consumed by the worm, Jonah, consumed by his own rage, prays for death.

 

Sefer Yonah is famous as an object lesson in Teshuvah and Divine mercy. But for me it stands as the first and truest portrait of human rage from ancient antiquity until Freud.

Ki Tavo 5768

Parshat Ki Tavoh teaches us some practical principles of life and gives us much food for thought. 

 

First, there is the principle of gratitude.  We are to bring first fruits of the land of Israel to God because it is God who gave us this land as an inheritance and as a place to live.  And it is required that we describe what we are doing and why we are doing it.  This too is extremely important: we must be fully aware of our actions and of the consequences of our actions.

As an aside, and in tune with agriculture, the beautiful description of Eretz Yisroel as a land of milk and honey is repeated 3 times (26: 9,15; 27:3.)

 

Another principle of life:  Determine the rules of the place in which you find yourself.  The rules of living in Eretz Yisroel are the laws of the Torah.  Therefore we are commanded to write the laws very legibly. The commentators say “legibly” means “in many languages, so that everyone can understand.”

 

Next there is another important rule of life:  A Declaration.

We have seen this already when we have to declare why we are bringing the first fruits.  Now we are told that when we enter Eretz Yisroel we are declared a nation. (27:9 this day you have become a nation)  We can learn from this that we should announce and declare important events in our life; that we should consider our lives worthy of announcing and declaring and rejoicing.

 

We then have the separate enumeration of the curses which will result if we do the wrong thing.  Although the curses are enumerated, they were preceded by a blessing, which was the opposite of the curse.  And each item had to receive Amen from the entire nation, thus making sure that the item had been heard.  It is interesting that the Torah wants the Leviim to speak loudly (you would think public speakers would know this, but as usual, the Torah assumes nothing!) The speaker’s duty, as we were told earlier (27:8), is to write the Torah clearly.  Thus we not only get laws from the Torah – we also get job descriptions – all quite helpful in our everyday lives.

 

Next we have the blessings which will come to us if we obey the laws – one of the nicest being:  Blessed are you when you come, and blessed are you when you leave.  One explanation is that just as you entered the world without blemish, so it will be a blessing if you can leave the earth unblemished (Rabbi Yohanan in Talmud Bava Metzia).  But there is another very lovely explanation by Astruc in Midresheth Torah: that this shows God’s mercy, that we are blessed when we enter the land, and we are also blessed when we are forced to leave the land.  God will not forsake us even in exile (Leviticus 26:44 “…even though Israel may forsake me; yet when Israel will be in exile I will not forsake them, because I am their God”).

 

And finally– “the heart to know”.  Now, only as we enter Eretz Yisroel do we attain “the heart to know” all that has been given to us by God.  It’s interesting to note that the same words “on this day” is used in sentence 9 of Chapter 27 when Moses tells the people “on this day you have become a nation” and in sentence 3 of  Chapter 29 “on this day” (“God has given you a heart to know, and eyes to see, and ears to hear”), from which we might learn that only when we enter the land of Israel and become a nation, can we  really begin to understand the unbelievable marvels that God has done for us.  Also very beautiful is the idea that we only know, when we know with the heart.

Ki Teitzei 5768

From the front pages of the New York Times, the Forward, and other papers, we are learning about Jewish companies, doing business in and for the Jewish community, that treat employees poorly. Rabbi Hamilton has raised questions about the general trustworthiness of companies, owners, and supervisors who behave this way to guarantee that they are operating according to the principles and values of Jewish law. This is a particularly poignant issue because of what we learn in this week’s parashah.

The following comment by Rabbi Laurie Coskey, comes from Mekor Chaim, a series of messages on the parashah by members of the United Jewish Communities’ Rabbinic Cabinet, in 2004, with slight emendations and additions by Danny Margolis.

Parashat Ki Tetzey demands that we examine all aspects of our lives and the governance of our personal, social and business ethics.  In America today, there is no more important ethical concern than how we treat our low wage workers, "the laborers" as they are referred to in our Torah text.   

These men and women – and, unfortunately, children-- are often invisible to us.  They work as home health care workers caring for our infirmed.  They work as maids and janitors in our hotels and offices, they work in the fields, in the cities, and in food processing plants, earning minimum wages or just above.  They are reported to be mistreated, and frequently penalized for accidents and absences; and they may not have vacation or sick days, health or dental insurance benefits. 

It is here in our parashah that we find the basis for much of the halakhah and Jewish perspective on the rights of the laborer. We are instructed in Deuteronomy 24:14-15:  "You shall not abuse a needy and destitute laborer, whether a fellow countryman or a stranger in one of the communities of your land.  You must pay him his wages on the same day, before the sun sets, for he is needy and urgently depends on it; else he will cry to the Lord against you and you shall incur guilt."  This law was created by our ancestors thousands of years ago to protect a worker's dignity and physical needs.  The Talmud in Bava Metzia takes it a step further, "He who withholds an employee's wages is as though he deprived him of his life." 

Throughout our Torah are many very specific instructions on the proper and just treatment of workers.  They are often framed by a reminder that because we were workers/slaves in the land of Egypt, we must therefore show both justice and compassion for those who labor on our behalf. We must remember that though we began as ‘avadim –workers – in Egypt, how easy it was for the “boss”, who didn’t remember Joseph, nor the values of  Tzedek- fairness and equity- that Joseph promulgated for everyone in Egypt , to subvert those basic principles and transform us into slaves. When Jews forget or ignore our basic mitzvot and values, we suffer, and the world is diminished as well.

We have a contribution to make to America as Jews: to share the wisdom of our system of values, including the protections afforded by our Torah and our Rabbinic tradition to those who earn their daily bread by the sweat of their brows. 

The prophetic mandates of all religions demand that we concern ourselves with the poor, particularly the working poor.  It is within our reach to help these food processors, janitors, housekeepers, dishwashers, nursing home attendants, security guards, child care workers, landscapers and many other laborers, take a step out of poverty simply by giving them their due -- just wages and benefits for the efforts of their own hands. This begins with our own employees at KI (who, so far as I know, are treated well, including our subcontractors), and extends to our influence in the larger community.

Rabbi Laurie Coskey is the spiritual leader of Chavurah Kol Haneshama in San Diego, CA

Nitzavim 5768

At the beginning of the parasha, Moses tells the assembled, “And I am not making this covenant and this oath with you alone, but with the one who is here standing with us today in front of the Lord our God, and with the one who isn’t here with us today.”

So the question arises, is it fair that a covenant can bind future generations that had no part in accepting it? In addressing this fundamental question, Nehama Leibowitz, in her commentary, cites Abravanel’s answer. A man’s heirs, Abravanel reminds us, are responsible for his debts even though they weren’t around when the debt was incurred. The debt, of course, is from Israel to God for God having, 1. Freed Israel from Egyptian bondage; 2. Given to Israel the Torah (the means toward spiritual perfection) and 3.Provided as a loan to Israel the land they were to inherit. Abravanel concludes, “Since the foundation of the covenant and this eternal subjection to the Almighty derived from the departure from Egypt, this historic fact was continually referred to by the Almighty and on the lips of His prophets, and all the feasts of the Lord were ‘a memorial of the going out of Egypt’; for this indicated their eternal bondage.”

Leibowitz argues with Abravanel’s metaphor. “A child,” she writes, “can always forego his inheritance and consequently rid himself of any obligations and debts involved. On the other hand, the binding nature of the Sinaitic revelation on the Jewish people is absolute and cannot be foregone.” And it is true, I find it compelling to stress that we cannot shake off the debt since neither can we shake off our inheritance. Today’s generation of Jews would still be slaves if Israel had not been redeemed; we all benefit from the Torah in that it has had a huge impact on the world we live in; and currently Jews occupy the land of Israel.

Harold Kushner, in the Etz Hayim commentary, follows a similar line of reasoning: “Many aspects of our lives were determined by decisions of our parents and ancestors, including when and where we would be born, what skills and physical qualities we would possess, and where and how we would be educated.” In other words, we each, Jew and non-Jew, inherit the covenants of our forebears because they are built into us and cannot be discarded.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, rather than choosing the metaphor of indebtedness, finds a partial parallel to the Sinaitic covenant in the United States Constitution. It is interesting to contemplate that parallel in this context (a different one than the one in which he suggests it). As Americans, we’ve inherited the Constitution even though we had no part in it. And we’ve inherited the consequences of America’s acts as it has been guided by that document over the course of 230 years, even if we didn’t agree with them. And as Americans we’re bound to live up to the Constitution’s ideals, as best we can understand them.

 Sam Tarlin

Re'eh 5768

Re'eh: Mann Ist Was Mann Est: One Is What One Eats.

This old German folk saying is relevant not only for our physical health and our body's condition but also for our spiritual health and our soul's condition. The German proverb is taken seriously by many of the world's religions that seek to elevate the physical act of eating that humans have in common with animals to a spirtual discipline characterized by dietary laws. This is the common denominator for Hindus, Buddhists and Taoists in the Far East, for Jews Christians and Muslims in the West and even for Native Americans and Australian and African aborigines. But the objectives of each religion are different as are their dietary laws that express the unique culture of each tradition.

For Jews the objective is the hallowing of life expressed in the reverence for life as indicated by the verse in our Torah portion: "But make sure that you do not partake of the blood; for the blood is the life and you must not consume the life with the flesh (Deut.12:23). From the Jewish perspective, as explained by Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the first Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel and the greatest Kabbalist of the 20th century, vegetarianism is the human ideal. The first humans in Eden were vegetarians and the Jewish messianic vision pictures all of humanity and even the animal kingdom as vegans in the Messianic Age (Isaiah 11).
According to this interpretation, the eating of meat was a concession made owing to the decline in human spirituality and moral consciousness after the Flood in the time of Noah (Genesis 9: 2-4). This is the general principle according to Rav Kook. But is there any significance in the detailed laws in which animals, birds and insects are classified as kosher or non-kosher?

First, as the ETZ HAYIM Torah commentary (page 637) points out on the dietary laws discussed in the Sidrah Sh'mini (Leviticus 11:1-47), considerations of health do not play a role nor does concern for meat spoiling in the desert heat. Does one really need a law prohibiting eating spoiled meat? The central issue as stated in Leviticus 11:44 is holiness. The root meaning of holiness is to
"set apart," and the Jewish dietary laws do have the intended purpose of setting apart Israel from the nations, Jews from non-Jews. They are a badge of Jewish identity. Holiness also implies unity, integrity, as well as perfection of the individual and the species. As biblical scholars and anthropologists have pointed out, holiness in this sense applied to the dietary laws means that kosher animals conform fully to their class. Non-kosher animals are imperfect members of their class or their class itself confuses the scheme of creation and the order of the world. The pig does not conform to the perfect model of the domesticated meat-animal in a rural socie ty because it is not ruminant (does not chew its cud) though it has cloven hoofs. The Torah law code sought to
separate not only animals that were generic opposites but even those that appeared dangerously close to each other. Thus the prohibition in our Torah portion of boiling a kid in its mother's milk (Deut. 14:21). The Hebrew mind had a horror of the hybrid whether it was an animal bird or insect that seemed to straddle two groups or even a fabric woven of linen and wool (Deut. 22:11).
This lack of separation symbolized the return to chaos that existed before God's separations in Genesis 1 that are the hallmark of creation.

To sum up, the dietary laws symbolize for Jews and non-Jews that as God brought order out of chaos, so must Jews, by using as food creatures that fit safely into clear categories of classification. Similarly, by avoiding as food the indeterminate and amorphous species that evoke echoes of primordial chaos, the Jews symbolically demonstrate their obligation and determination to uphold the clarity and order of creation. The Jewish dietary laws consider as non-kosher the meat of predatory animals or birds because as God is a living God and God's commandments confer life on those who observe them, so must Jews forfeit as food creatures that are primarily predators.

Rabbi Joseph Schultz

Eikev 5768

Anyone who has ever been to Israel or even seen photos of the country would agree that Israel is a land of beauty.  I have experienced this beauty during trips to Jerusalem, the Negev desert, and the Mediterranean Sea.  This week’s Torah portion, Eikev, provides a poetic description of the beauty of Israel: "For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with streams and springs and fountains issuing from plain and hill; a land of wheat and barley, of [grape] vines, figs and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and [date] honey; a land where you may eat food without stint, and where you will lack nothing" (Deuteronomy 8:7–10).  What I find remarkable about this description is the accuracy of the text in both biblical and current times.  Even though these words were written thousands of years ago, they are still relevant today.

 

In this parsha the Israelites find themselves listening to Moses on the cusp of entering the Land.  Naturally, they are eager to get into Canaan, for they have been in the wilderness for quite some time.  Just when the Israelites feel that they are close to the land, Moses reminds them of their experiences during the journey. For example, he remembers the positive experience of the Exodus from Egypt and the negative experience of the Golden Calf.  The Israelites find themselves in a period of anticipation and reflection, just as one might prepare for or reflect on a trip to Israel.  Moses’ reflection of the journey helps the Israelites appreciate their covenant with God and the promise of Canaan.

 

This is one of many instances in the Torah when Moses and God work together to show God’s power.  In this week’s portion, we see this model when the Israelites receive manna to eat, “in order to teach you that human beings do not live on bread alone, but that they may live on anything that God decrees” (Deuteronomy 8:3).  Parshat Eikev is a reminder of our relationship with God and our responsibility to perform Mitzvot, as well as our role in ensuring that we will be provided with everything we need in our lives.

 

The Israelites are challenged to reflect on their experiences in the wilderness and to keep Mitzvot before entering the Promised Land.  Similarly, visitors to Israel often feel these emotions.  As you prepare for your next trip, be it to Israel or elsewhere, let these words of Torah help you reflect on your relationship with God so that you may grow and move forward from one journey to the next.

 

I wish you a wonderful Shabbat,

 

Philip Sherman

Devarim 5768

Eileh ha-DEVARIM asher diber Moshe el-kol-Yisroel

These are the WORDS which Moshe spoke to all Israel…

 

Polonius: …What do you read, my lord?

Hamlet: Words, words, words (Act II, sc ii)

 

Devarim is a book of words. More precisely, Devarim is a book of words about other words, i.e., words written in the previous four books of the Torah (with a few notable additions and amendments.) For this reason, an old name for Devarim is Mishneh Torah, literally ‘a second Torah’, or ‘a repetition of the Torah.’

 

Why a repetition? Israel didn’t get the message the first time? Are there problems with devarim that are solved by repetition? What are devarim anyway?

 

The underlying meaning of the root dalet-bet-resh (d-b-r) is uncertain, but probably means “go away” (Brown-Driver-Briggs). Gesenius suggests d-b-r means “range in order”. A composite definition renders d-b-r as “go away in a particular direction.”

 

Graphically, d-b-r may be represented as follows:

 

Fig. 1 (origin) à (end point)

 

The arrow represents the root d-b-r itself. The arrow takes off from an origin, or starting point. The starting point may be God, a person’s mouth, a corral, or a hive, as we will see shortly. The end point may be our ears, a patch of grass, or even the oblivion of death.

 

The arrow itself, the root d-b-r, branches in four directions in biblical Hebrew. Here are three of them:

 

1. To go away into oblivion, to perish: This branch gives dever, pestilence, as in the fifth plague on Egypt (Shemot 9:1-7.)
2. To lead away, to guide: This gives midbar and dover, the wilderness into which a shepherd leads cattle to graze; devorah, a swarm of bees that fly in a (bee) line; and dovrot, rafts that float away (Mlachim 5:23).
3. To speak, to go away from the mouth in a sequence of words, as in l’dabber.

 

Branch number three gives us the title of our book. Devarim are words, things, and matters about which one speaks. They possess no intrinsic meaning, but they carry meaning as a boxcar carries cargo. Mathematicians may recognize devarim as vectors, constructs that possess only direction and magnitude. I prefer the biologists’ definition of vector, i.e. a creature that carries a disease-causing agent on its back. For example, the deer tick itself doesn’t carry Lyme disease: the tick is a vector that carries the germ that causes Lyme disease! L’havdil, devarim are vectors that transport meaning.

 

A useful analogy is the relationship of lock to key. A key may fit into many locks, but only certain pairs will fit correctly. Devarim may be thought of as keys that may fit into several locks, or meanings, but only certain key-lock pairs will convey meaning. A shared feature of devarim and keys is that both allow the existence of a master key: one key opens all members of a lock set; one devar unlocks a group of meanings.

 

We find the master key to understanding d-b-r in the fourth branch of meaning:

 

4. Devir (dalet-vet-yud-resh) is a synonym for Kodesh Kodashim, the holy of holies, or the innermost chamber of the Beit HaMikdash. The closest relation to devir is an Arabic word meaning “hindmost portion”. Unlike the first three branches, devir refers to the origin of the vector, rather than to the end point.

 

The vector’s origin is essential to understanding the meaning of d-b-r. Thus dever, pestilence, is judgment sent out by God. You send out your cattle from your corral/home to graze in the midbar. Devorah fly away from their hive/home led by their queen. And devarim are exquisitely sensitive to their speaker, or Speaker. The root d-b-r invites us to trace the arrow backwards to the origin where fuller understanding may be found.

 

Sefer Devarim is an invitation to trace words of Torah back to the Origin, where you may locate their essential meanings.

 

Ki mi-Tzion teitze torah, oo-DEVAR Hashem mYrushalim

For Torah goes forth from Zion, and the WORD of God from Jerusalem

 RPL

 

Chukat 5768

WE ARE ALL CONNECTED ONE TO ANOTHER...

 

MOSES, AARON & MIRIAM

The Israelites arrived in a body at the wilderness of Zin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh.  Miriam died there and was buried there.  (Numbers 20:1)

 

The Gemara tells us that the Jewish people had three special caretakers - Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. The Jewish people were the recipients of three special gifts - the wellspring, the Clouds of Glory, and the Mana. The wellspring was in the merit of Miriam. The Clouds of Glory were in the merit of Aaron and the Mana was in the merit of Moses. The Gemara quotes a verse in Zacharia which states," I removed the three shepherds in one month." This verse indicates that Moses, Aaron, and Miriam all passed away in the same month. Yet we know that this is not the case because Miriam passed away in the month of Nissan, Aaron in Av, and Moses in Adar. The fact is that each of them passed away in different months. How does the Gemara resolve the seeming contradiction between the verse and fact?

The Gemara answers - that when Miriam passed away the wellspring ceased to flow and it was only in the merit of Moses that it was reinstated. After Aaron passed away the Clouds of Glory were dispersed and were also quickly reinstated in the merit of Moses. The Gemara explains that since these miracles were so quickly replaced in the merit of Moses, the Jewish people did not sense the loss of Miriam and Aaron, who had been their benefactors for close to forty years. It was not until Moses passed away and all of these gifts ceased that the Jewish people internalized the loss of the "three special shepherds of Israel." Although the Jewish people understood that each of the miracles from which they derived continuous benefit was in the merit of these special individuals, they had not internalized the reality of their loss until Moses passed away.  Therefore, although Miriam passed away “on the first new moon” her absence was not felt until months later when Moses passed away and the wellspring permanently ceased to flow. 

 

MOSES & ABRAHAM

The Torah tells us that after Miriam passed away the water ceased to flow and Moses was told by God to speak to the rock so that it would give forth its water. However, rather than speaking to it Moses struck the rock. The Sforno explains that if Moses had spoken to the rock, he would have brought about a revealed miracle. However since Moses struck the rock he did not bring about the Kiddush Hashem (Sanctification of God's Name) that would have resulted from his speaking to it. As a result of this failing, Moses and Aaron had to pass away before the Jews entered the Land of Israel. As much as Moses pleaded with God for forgiveness, God did not listen to his pleas because when he had the opportunity to Sanctify God's Name he did not do so. Why would Moses, a man of such “great merit” do such a thing?  The Gemara in Tractate Bava Metzia states that the manner in which Abraham hosted the visiting angels determined the manner in which God accommodated the needs of the Jewish people in the desert. The Talmud states that any act of hospitality which Abraham performed himself resulted in a miracle coming directly from God without any human intervention. However any act of hospitality that was brought about through an intermediary, God allowed the corresponding miracle to come only through an intermediary. The Gemara explains that since Abraham offered the bread himself, the Jewish people received the Mana in the desert. Because of the shade of the tree that was offered by Abraham to protect his guests, we merited the Clouds of Glory, which protected the Jews in the desert for forty years. However since Abraham offered the water (to wash their feet) to the angels through an intermediary the Jews received the water through Moses who had to extract it from the rock.

Jennifer Rudin

Korach 5768

“You want too much, sons of Levi.”

As a Levi, especially one who expresses his views about KI religious policies as a KI officer, I’m naturally concerned about this parasha.  Korach, also a Levi, argues against a system that categorizes levels of holiness within the community, a view that would fit in well in this age of egalitarianism. Korach is swallowed by the earth for expressing his views.

 

What exactly did Korach do to be so strongly punished?

Most commentary on this topic focuses on Pirkei Avot (a volume of the Mishnah), chapter 5: Every argument that is in the name of heaven will be established at the end.  And those that are not in the name of heaven will not.  What is an argument in the name of heaven?  The arguments of Hillel and Shammai. And one that is NOT in the name of heaven?  The argument of Korach and his followers. Why was Korach’s argument not in the name of heaven?  Because he was advancing a selfish cause: 

"Is it not enough for you that the G-d of Israel has distinguished you from the community of Israel... that you also desire the priesthood?"

From Moses’ response, we see that Korach actually desired the office of the Kohen Gadol for himself! He wasn’t protesting because of the injustice to others. He was protesting because he wanted to inflate his own position. He was jealous.  (Rabbi Michael Gold.)

The Talmud proclaims:  “Anyone who engages in divisiveness transgresses a divine prohibition, as it is written: ‘and he shall not be as Korach and his company.’” 

Korach’s vision seems the paradigm of harmony: diverse elements unified by a common goal.  But while his “separate but equal” world may unite its various components in that they all serve the same common goal, it fails to provide for any true connection between them.  The paths may converge at the destination, but they are separated by walls which isolate and divide them. Without a reciprocal relationship between them, without any sense of where they stand vis-à-vis each other, their separateness inevitably disintegrates into factionalism and conflict.  By pointing to Korach as the father and prototype of divisiveness (machloket), the Talmud is saying: This pseudo-peace, this “Parallelism” that says, “I do my thing, you do yours, but it’s all equally good, there’s no objective ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ so there’s neither need nor responsibility of one towards the other” – that is the source of all conflict in our world. (Lubavicher Rebbe.)

There is a second question that needs answering. G-d told Moses to physically move away from Korach. Why did G-d do that? Was it a fear that bad ideas were physically contagious?

 “Separate Yourselves from among this congregation, that I may consume them in a moment.”

The typical interpretation of this is that Moses and Aaron would be vulnerable to destruction were they to remain in the vicinity of Korach.  Fifteenth century Italian commentator Rabbi Ovadiah Sforno states: “for we have a principle ‘woe to the wicked and woe to his neighbor.’  Hence, they are told to distance themselves, ‘lest they be swept away.’”

But after pointing this out, Sforno comes up with a very different interpretation, saying that it actually could be read as “Separate yourselves from among this congregation, so that your merit should not shield them.”  He based this on Job 22:30, which says, “He delivers the one who is not innocent.”  Sforno believes that “the guilty can be saved by the righteous, for as the Metzudos David interprets the verse, the meaning is G-d delivers those who are not innocent in the merit of those ‘whose hands are pure.’  Therefore, Moses and Aaron are told to separate themselves from these sinners for otherwise, their presence will protect Korach and the others from punishment.”

A more modern interpretation would be that sometimes, good people change bad people’s minds.  In the Torah, G-d occasionally works against people changing their minds to teach a lesson, such as when G-d kept hardening Pharaoh’s heart, or here, where G-d did not wish Moses’ presence to positively influence Korach.

So what can we learn from these interpretations of the elements of Parshat Korach?

1.    We should be careful that our motives are not selfish ones before arguing with others.  

2.    We each need to view our roles in terms of their positive impact on the rest of the community.

3.    When others are arguing on behalf of a bad situation, we may have the power to change their minds simply by setting good examples. 

Larry Sochrin