Why do we like to hear divrei Torah about holidays before the holiday, but afterwards, it's all just so uninteresting? Apparently, we want to be spiritually prepared in advance (or at least on the holiday) to appreciate its meaning, and afterwards, the insights are too far away from next year to make a difference in preparing for our meaningful holiday.
But is this correct? Doesn't this emphasis on preparing for the holiday's meaning really boil down to an intellectual interest, to the exclusion of religious growth? Because after all, if I'm really interested in drawing close to God, I should look to see what lessons from the holiday (both in light of insights and my observance) will impact my life afterward? The dvar Torah about Chanukah should be welcomed before or on Chanukah, of course. But it should be most welcomed afterwards.
In that light, here is my final chanukah thought. A friend in shul told me that he heard a Dvar Torah about Chanukah and money, which goes something like this: Why is it that to get a chanukah candle, a poor person must even have to sell his overcoat if necessary? Is there a connection between Chanukah and money? He answered that indeed, the Rambam says that the Greeks "pashtu yadam b'mamonam" extended their hands to the Jew's money. The connection, my friend quoted in the name of someone else, is that the Jews must have sinned with money, and were therefore punished by the Greeks midah k'neged midah, measure for measure.
This idea leaves me cold, even uncomfortable because of the presumed knowledge of the mind of God.
I suggested a different idea. That there is indeed a connection between Chanukah and money: Why is the Greek's assault on the Jews' money or property significant enough to warrant a mention by the Rambam? Because of what wealth represents. When leaving Egypt, God told the Jews to take silver and gold from the Egyptians. What ever would they need it for? For the building of the Mishkan, the temple dedicated to God. Silver and gold--wealth in general-- are, from a religious perspective, to be channelled to the service of God. Property becomes the means by which we do many of the mitzvot.
Thus, we say in Al Hanisim that the Greeks tried "l'hashkicham Toratecha u'l'haaviram mechukei retzonecha", to cause the Jews to forget the Torah and to remove them from the laws which are God's will. What is the difference between these two things? "Causing the Jews to forget the Torah" is an attempt to assimilate the Jews. "Removing them from the laws" may mean something else--removing them practically from their ability to observe the laws by taking away their wealth and property. In the absence of assimilation, this will separate Jews from the Torah.
Since wealth and property are the means for the dedication of the material to the Divine, and this was under attack by the Greeks, we must be willing to rededicate ourselves to that value. For this reason, even a poor person with little property must be willing to part with so much in order to fulfill the mitzvah of Chanukah lights.
As we move on from Chanukah, may God bless us with the wisdom to use whatever resources we have to add holiness into our lives and into the world.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Are Your Values Twisted?
Two thoughts from last week, Parashat Vayera, before I forget them:
1) How can Lot simultaneously be so evil as to offer his daughters to the people of Sedom, while doing so in the name of protecting guests?
One approach, which doesn't seem to reflect the accepted reading of the words (but maybe it does), is that Lot's question about offering his daughters is rhetorical. He's really saying "Hey look, I have two daughters. I would as soon offer them to you to have your way with as I would offer up my guests." According to this, Lot is actually not offering up his daughters, but successfully clinging to hachnasat orchim, and doing so quite well.
Another approach is to say that he indeed did offer up his daughters instead of his guests. His willingness to do so is reflective of the influence that Sedom had upon him. Lot was raised with Avraham Avinu's sense of values, especially his renowned sense of hachnasat orchim. Thus, when Lot found himself in Sedom, a city that specifically rejected the inviting in of others, a city defined by xenophobia and careless to the needs of the stranger, Lot felt the need to compensate by over-emphasizing the value that was under attack. The problem, though, is that when one over-emphasizes one value in order to protect it, it warps one's entire value system, perhaps even without the person's knowledge. Part of morality is the interrelation of values and knowing how to balance competing values. This becomes twisted, and the "ignored" values may become, finally, immoral.
Thus, Lot's efforts to defend himself from the ideals and values of the city of Sedom had an insidious effect upon him and his values, in spite of his best efforts.
2) Why is the haftara for parashat Vayera about Elisha and the revival from the dead of the son of the Shunamite woman?
The obvious connection is the informing of a barren woman that she will have a child. In the parsha, it is done by an angel, and in the haftara, it is done by Elisha himself.
Perhaps there is another connection: The attempt to save Sedom-Amora and the attempt to save the child of the Shunamite woman.
What is the whole issue of Avraham's debate with God about saving the Sedom-Amora metropolitan area? At first it seems to be about how God shouldn't unjustly slay the righteous along with the wicked. But soon it becomes about how God should save the wicked because the righteous are among them. Somehow, either the presence of the righteous raise hopes for the repentance of the wicked, or the attachment of the righteous to the wicked moves God to relent, perhaps because He sees the love of the righteous for the wicked and wishes to reward the righteous.
This is also a theme in the haftara. The boy is not revived because Elisha did CPR-- such an idea is somewhat annoying, and doesn't even warrant discussion. He is revived when Elisha attaches himself to the boy-- matching his life up against the boy's, sharing his breath with the boy. It is a case of the righteous attaching himself to the one who is doomed, and demonstrating his love for the doomed. (One can hardly say the boy is wicked, so I write "doomed" because it seems that God didn't really want this boy to exist in the first place, and later seems to have killed him). God didn't hear Elisha's prayer to revive the boy. God responded when Elisha identified himself completely with the child.
1) How can Lot simultaneously be so evil as to offer his daughters to the people of Sedom, while doing so in the name of protecting guests?
One approach, which doesn't seem to reflect the accepted reading of the words (but maybe it does), is that Lot's question about offering his daughters is rhetorical. He's really saying "Hey look, I have two daughters. I would as soon offer them to you to have your way with as I would offer up my guests." According to this, Lot is actually not offering up his daughters, but successfully clinging to hachnasat orchim, and doing so quite well.
Another approach is to say that he indeed did offer up his daughters instead of his guests. His willingness to do so is reflective of the influence that Sedom had upon him. Lot was raised with Avraham Avinu's sense of values, especially his renowned sense of hachnasat orchim. Thus, when Lot found himself in Sedom, a city that specifically rejected the inviting in of others, a city defined by xenophobia and careless to the needs of the stranger, Lot felt the need to compensate by over-emphasizing the value that was under attack. The problem, though, is that when one over-emphasizes one value in order to protect it, it warps one's entire value system, perhaps even without the person's knowledge. Part of morality is the interrelation of values and knowing how to balance competing values. This becomes twisted, and the "ignored" values may become, finally, immoral.
Thus, Lot's efforts to defend himself from the ideals and values of the city of Sedom had an insidious effect upon him and his values, in spite of his best efforts.
2) Why is the haftara for parashat Vayera about Elisha and the revival from the dead of the son of the Shunamite woman?
The obvious connection is the informing of a barren woman that she will have a child. In the parsha, it is done by an angel, and in the haftara, it is done by Elisha himself.
Perhaps there is another connection: The attempt to save Sedom-Amora and the attempt to save the child of the Shunamite woman.
What is the whole issue of Avraham's debate with God about saving the Sedom-Amora metropolitan area? At first it seems to be about how God shouldn't unjustly slay the righteous along with the wicked. But soon it becomes about how God should save the wicked because the righteous are among them. Somehow, either the presence of the righteous raise hopes for the repentance of the wicked, or the attachment of the righteous to the wicked moves God to relent, perhaps because He sees the love of the righteous for the wicked and wishes to reward the righteous.
This is also a theme in the haftara. The boy is not revived because Elisha did CPR-- such an idea is somewhat annoying, and doesn't even warrant discussion. He is revived when Elisha attaches himself to the boy-- matching his life up against the boy's, sharing his breath with the boy. It is a case of the righteous attaching himself to the one who is doomed, and demonstrating his love for the doomed. (One can hardly say the boy is wicked, so I write "doomed" because it seems that God didn't really want this boy to exist in the first place, and later seems to have killed him). God didn't hear Elisha's prayer to revive the boy. God responded when Elisha identified himself completely with the child.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Erev Yom Kippur--Like clay in the hands of the potter. . .
Like the clay in the hands of the potter,
who by his will makes it wider and by his will makes it shorter,
so are we in Your hands, former of kindness. . .
So we say in one of the most poignant prayers of the night of Yom Kippur. At first glance, the theme of this piyut is a continuation of Rosh Hashanah's theme of God's kingship--- God is in complete control.
However, the phrase "Like the clay in the hands of the potter" wasn't original to this poem. It's based on Chapter 18 of the book of Yirmiyahu, where God tells Yirmiyahu to go down to the house of the potter, and has him watch as the potter makes clay pots. Sometimes they break, and the potter just refashions them.
God tells Yirmiyahu that God is like the potter and we are like the clay. How so? Sometimes we are wicked and mired in sin, and God judges us with an unfavorable decree. Nevertheless, if we just return to God, He will refashion the unfavorable decree and turn it into a good one.
The message is that even if it looks like hope is lost, like we cannot do teshuva, God is ready to accept our teshuva and will "refashion" the decree and His relationship with us for the good.
The prophet goes on to describe how people will sometimes take the wrong approach and say "noash"-- we have given up hope, and we will just do what we want. This, Yirmiyahu tells us, is the wrong approach because the door to teshuva is always open.
So our famous poem turns out to be less about God's kingship and much more about how we should not give up or despair, but instead realize that even now, even if we've ignored the past year, ignored Rosh Hashanah and the days before Yom Kippur, even now we can do a complete turn around. If we reshape ourselves with teshuva, God will reshape the decree and His relationship with us.
A most appropriate poem for the beginning of Yom Kippur.
Gmar Chatima Tova.
Friday, September 21, 2012
The Right and Wrong Ways to Do Teshuva
As we move through from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, there is a little bump called Tzom Gedaliah, a fast day that we suffered through this past Wednesday, the day after Rosh Hashanah. Why do we have another fast day for yet another tragedy of the Jews? Isn't Tisha B'Av enough? Isn't Asarah b'Tevet enough? Isn't Shiva Asar B'Tamuz enough? Plus, why distract us from the Teshuvah process?
It seems to me that Tzom Gedaliah is not like any of those other fasts. It is not really a fast of mourning, though it is based on a tragedy. Instead, it is a fast which was established to teach us the wrong way to do teshuva, or how not to do teshuva at this time.
After the destruction of the Temple, Nevuchadnezzar the King of Babylon placed a puppet leader in charge of the small remnant of Jews remaining in Jerusalem who had not been killed or exiled. That leader was Gedaliah ben Achikam, who at least provided some internal independence for the Jewish community.
As the book of Yirmiyahu tells us (in Chapters 40-41), Jews loyal to Gedaliah told him that the King of Amon hired a Jew named Yishmael ben Netanya to assasinate Gedaliah. They suggested killing Yishmael ben Netanya so he would not be able to carry out his plot, kill Gedaliah and destroy the remaining community.
What was Gedaliah's response? "Do not do this thing, because you are speaking lies about Yishmael". (Yirmiyahu 40:16). Needless to say, Yishmael does indeed kill Gedaliah, all the people with him, and the rest of the Jewish community is snuffed out.
Several verses later (41:9), the death of the victims who were massacred by Yishmael is blamed on Gedaliah himself! Rashi quotes the Talmud as stating that "since he should have listened to the counsel . . . and didn't listen, Scripture considers it as if they were killed by his hand."
Gedaliah didn't want to accept lashon hara. He didn't want to believe something bad about another. He is the example of how NOT to do teshuva, and we are warned, right after the inspiration of Rosh Hashanah, not to follow it.
What was wrong with Gedaliah's approach? Let's say I want to stop listening to lashon hara.
I could either 1) give up on the whole enterprise and listen freely, or 2) never listen at all.
If I do 1), I've obviously failed at the outset. But if I do 2), then I may miss an opportunity to save someone (or myself) from danger. But more commonly, I will eventually find it too difficult, and just give up.
This is the wrong way to do teshuva: A mere resolution to never do the sin again. Instead, to be successful, the resolution must be accompanied by 1) a plan for how to avoid sinning, and 2) Torah study to help me navigate the varying circumstances (both inside my own mind and outside of it) that will arise.
Tzom Gedaliah was not a day of mourning, but the next step after Rosh Hashanah. We come out of Rosh Hashanah ready to "perfect the world in the Kingdom of God." The day after Rosh Hashanah, we start thinking about the wrong ways (and by deduction) the right ways to do this.
Chatima Tova.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Erev Rosh Hashanah
The Tur writes (and this is how the Shulchan Aruch holds as well) that the day before Rosh Hashanah, Erev Rosh Hashanah, we do not say Tachanun (a penitential prayer said after the shemoneh esreh on weekdays) in the morning. The Tur states that we don't say tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah "just like on all the other Erev Yom Tovs". On the day before Passover, Sukkot, Shavuot, we do also do not say Tachanun, and it sounds like Erev Rosh Hashanah is for the same reason.
But what is that reason? The Perisha points out that there is no such rule as "every Erev Yom Tov you don't say Tachanun". Instead, each Erev Yom Tov happens to have an independent reason not to say Tachanun. Thus, we don't say Tachanun the entire month of Nissan (because the first 14 days of Nissan is each a mini holiday because a separate tribal head brought an offering for the dedication of the Mishkan in the desert) , so Erev Pesach obviously is included. We don't say Tachanun starting the first day of the month of Sivan until after Shavuot (6 days later), (because of the Jewish people's several days' preparation for the revelation at Sinai). Further, we don't say Tachanun from Yom Kippur onwards, (because in the time of Shlomo Hamelech, he dedicated the Temple during this time period) so Erev Sukkot is obviously included. And Erev Yom Kippur is itself considered a holiday with its own special halachot, (such as a mitzvah to eat!) so no Tachanun is said then.
So what does it mean for the Tur to say (and other authorities, including the Mishneh Berurah, to repeat) that we don't say Tachanun Erev Rosh Hashanah "just like every other Erev Yom Tov"?
1. Popular Perception and the Misunderstanding of Rosh Hashanah:
Maybe people won't remember the specific reason we skip Tachanun the other Erev Yamim Tovim, and when they notice that we say it Erev Rosh Hashanah, they will read into it that it must be because of the penitential aspect of Rosh Hashanah. (They will say, "why do we say Tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah and not on any other Erev Yom Tov?", and will answer "because Rosh Hashanah is not a happy day, but a time for asking for forgiveness of sin." But the truth is the opposite. Rosh Hashanah is indeed a time of teshuvah (repentance), but it is the beginning of teshuvah--- the recognition by each individual that God is above me. Penitence and confession come later. Thus, in order to prevent us from confusing the nature of Rosh Hashanah by improperly contrasting it with other holidays and thinking it overly penitential, we skip Tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah as well.
2. Perhaps the reasons for the skipping of the Tachanun on the eve of the other holidays have a common theme which applies to Rosh Hashanah as well. The other Erev Yamim Tovim (I think the proper term should be "Arvei Yom Tov") all do not include the tachanun prayer because of the theme of preparation. Before Pesach, the princes of each tribe brought sacrifices to dedicate the Mishkah. Before Shavuot, the Jewish people made special preparations for receiving the Torah. Before Sukkot, King Solomon dedicated (a form of preparation) the Beit Hamikdash. On Erev Yom Kippur, we are eating in order to prepare for Yom Kippur.
What is the preparation for Rosh Hashanah? See this post where I recorded the customs of Erev Rosh Hashanah like getting a haircut and preparing nice clothing as a sign of happiness. Yes, we are trembling in awe before God's judgment. But we are also happy because God will do for us a miracle.
What is the nature of that miracle? See here.
The seemingly small detail of skipping tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah, in light of the Perisha's question, ends up highlighting for us the themes of Rosh Hashanah. According to the first explanation, Rosh Hashanah's place in the Ten Days of Repentance is about making God King--- placing ourselves in the proper relationship with God, so that we can then do the work of confession and penitence after Rosh Hashanah. According to the second explanation, it highlights that Rosh Hashanah is also a day of happiness.
But what is that reason? The Perisha points out that there is no such rule as "every Erev Yom Tov you don't say Tachanun". Instead, each Erev Yom Tov happens to have an independent reason not to say Tachanun. Thus, we don't say Tachanun the entire month of Nissan (because the first 14 days of Nissan is each a mini holiday because a separate tribal head brought an offering for the dedication of the Mishkan in the desert) , so Erev Pesach obviously is included. We don't say Tachanun starting the first day of the month of Sivan until after Shavuot (6 days later), (because of the Jewish people's several days' preparation for the revelation at Sinai). Further, we don't say Tachanun from Yom Kippur onwards, (because in the time of Shlomo Hamelech, he dedicated the Temple during this time period) so Erev Sukkot is obviously included. And Erev Yom Kippur is itself considered a holiday with its own special halachot, (such as a mitzvah to eat!) so no Tachanun is said then.
So what does it mean for the Tur to say (and other authorities, including the Mishneh Berurah, to repeat) that we don't say Tachanun Erev Rosh Hashanah "just like every other Erev Yom Tov"?
1. Popular Perception and the Misunderstanding of Rosh Hashanah:
Maybe people won't remember the specific reason we skip Tachanun the other Erev Yamim Tovim, and when they notice that we say it Erev Rosh Hashanah, they will read into it that it must be because of the penitential aspect of Rosh Hashanah. (They will say, "why do we say Tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah and not on any other Erev Yom Tov?", and will answer "because Rosh Hashanah is not a happy day, but a time for asking for forgiveness of sin." But the truth is the opposite. Rosh Hashanah is indeed a time of teshuvah (repentance), but it is the beginning of teshuvah--- the recognition by each individual that God is above me. Penitence and confession come later. Thus, in order to prevent us from confusing the nature of Rosh Hashanah by improperly contrasting it with other holidays and thinking it overly penitential, we skip Tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah as well.
2. Perhaps the reasons for the skipping of the Tachanun on the eve of the other holidays have a common theme which applies to Rosh Hashanah as well. The other Erev Yamim Tovim (I think the proper term should be "Arvei Yom Tov") all do not include the tachanun prayer because of the theme of preparation. Before Pesach, the princes of each tribe brought sacrifices to dedicate the Mishkah. Before Shavuot, the Jewish people made special preparations for receiving the Torah. Before Sukkot, King Solomon dedicated (a form of preparation) the Beit Hamikdash. On Erev Yom Kippur, we are eating in order to prepare for Yom Kippur.
What is the preparation for Rosh Hashanah? See this post where I recorded the customs of Erev Rosh Hashanah like getting a haircut and preparing nice clothing as a sign of happiness. Yes, we are trembling in awe before God's judgment. But we are also happy because God will do for us a miracle.
What is the nature of that miracle? See here.
The seemingly small detail of skipping tachanun on Erev Rosh Hashanah, in light of the Perisha's question, ends up highlighting for us the themes of Rosh Hashanah. According to the first explanation, Rosh Hashanah's place in the Ten Days of Repentance is about making God King--- placing ourselves in the proper relationship with God, so that we can then do the work of confession and penitence after Rosh Hashanah. According to the second explanation, it highlights that Rosh Hashanah is also a day of happiness.
A Tishrei Miracle Revisited
In a previous brief post, I noted that we have various customs the day before Rosh Hashanah that show us to be happy on Rosh Hashanah, and the Tur quotes a Midrash as saying that we are happy on Rosh Hashanah, in spite of it being a day of judgment, because we are confident that God will perform a miracle for us. What is the nature of that miracle?
Let me suggest that the opportunity for teshuvah is itself the miracle. We are creatures of habit and learned behavior. Our environment influences us greatly, and it is seemingly impossible to change our ways. How can I stop speaking lashon hara? How can I stop getting angry? How can I concentrate more on my prayers? How can I stop wasting time? (Add whatever other examples are relevant). We seem almost caught up in the unrelenting pressure of daily life and habit.
Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik Ztz"l noted (I saw this idea in the machzor containing his ideas put out a few years ago) that man can be either a subject or an object. We are bidden to be both, in the proper contexts. Thus, we are bidden to be constructive in the material world, to do mitzvot, to build relationships, to add holiness. To do this, we must be a subject, not an object. When we give up this role and become an object, the world acts upon us and we are just tossed about like flotsam on the waves. Being an object in this way is associated with sin. We have given up on our active mission to serve God, and we are tossed about in the pressures and desires that life presses upon us.
On the other hand, we are bidden to also be an object. How? By subjugating our will to the will of God. I am not the measure of all things--God is. Another form of sin is rebellion, claiming to be a subject in the one context in which I should be an object and bend my own will before the Holy One Blessed is He.
Thus, Teshuva allows us to flip this around. When I am in the quicksand of life and feel acted upon, and sin has overwhelmed me and I feel I cannot change after so many years, God tells us that this mitzvah is in our "mouth and heart to do it." It is possible to take the reins and become a subject, a noble actor for what is good and holy.
And when I have put my will as the measure of all things, Teshuva is the possibility that I have to recalibrate my priorities and realize that God is the measure of all things.
This is the Tishrei miracle, the miracle of Rosh Hashanah that we are so confident about. We know that on Rosh Hashanah, we are endowed with the nobility to ignore all of our faults and pray that all the world "will band together to do Your will with a full heart."
May this year be a miraculous one, full of Teshuvah, for all of us, for all Israel our brethren, and for all the world.
Let me suggest that the opportunity for teshuvah is itself the miracle. We are creatures of habit and learned behavior. Our environment influences us greatly, and it is seemingly impossible to change our ways. How can I stop speaking lashon hara? How can I stop getting angry? How can I concentrate more on my prayers? How can I stop wasting time? (Add whatever other examples are relevant). We seem almost caught up in the unrelenting pressure of daily life and habit.
Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik Ztz"l noted (I saw this idea in the machzor containing his ideas put out a few years ago) that man can be either a subject or an object. We are bidden to be both, in the proper contexts. Thus, we are bidden to be constructive in the material world, to do mitzvot, to build relationships, to add holiness. To do this, we must be a subject, not an object. When we give up this role and become an object, the world acts upon us and we are just tossed about like flotsam on the waves. Being an object in this way is associated with sin. We have given up on our active mission to serve God, and we are tossed about in the pressures and desires that life presses upon us.
On the other hand, we are bidden to also be an object. How? By subjugating our will to the will of God. I am not the measure of all things--God is. Another form of sin is rebellion, claiming to be a subject in the one context in which I should be an object and bend my own will before the Holy One Blessed is He.
Thus, Teshuva allows us to flip this around. When I am in the quicksand of life and feel acted upon, and sin has overwhelmed me and I feel I cannot change after so many years, God tells us that this mitzvah is in our "mouth and heart to do it." It is possible to take the reins and become a subject, a noble actor for what is good and holy.
And when I have put my will as the measure of all things, Teshuva is the possibility that I have to recalibrate my priorities and realize that God is the measure of all things.
This is the Tishrei miracle, the miracle of Rosh Hashanah that we are so confident about. We know that on Rosh Hashanah, we are endowed with the nobility to ignore all of our faults and pray that all the world "will band together to do Your will with a full heart."
May this year be a miraculous one, full of Teshuvah, for all of us, for all Israel our brethren, and for all the world.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Hamelech Hamishpat
I hope I am not out of my depth in this post. It is hard to put into words.
There is much discussion in halacha about what happens if you say the year-long formula instead of the special changes. However, I am more interested in "Hamelech Hamishpat." What does this mean? The Beit Yosef quotes the Rokeach (I think) as offering two explanations. The second one is very interesting: The King, who is Justice.
We should not think, he says, that God's qualities are external to Him, as our qualities are. (e.g. I, as a human being, can be just, and I can be forgiving. But it is a quality of mine that could have been, or could yet be, otherwise).
The Torah speaks of God in anthropomorphic terms, as our Sages say, "Dibra Torah b'lashon b'nei adam," the Torah speaks in the language of human beings. But God, though He is, in the literary sense, a "character" in the Torah, is infinitely above the descriptions that even the Torah gives Him. Thus, God is not just; God is Justice. (But God is not only Justice).
We think of God as an infinitely powerful being who judges us on Rosh Hashanah. But that is but one layer of our understanding. This beracha, "Hamelech Hamishpat" adds another layer: On Rosh Hashanah we are brought before God, who is not only just, but Justice. And to be judged means to be measured up against Justice itself, Hamelech Hamishpat.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
A Tishrei Miracle
The Tur, in chapter 581, records the practice of getting a haircut before Rosh Hashanah. This practice is based on a Midrash that states that in general, a person who has a court case wears black and worries, because he doesn't know how it will turn out. But the Jewish people wear white and shave their beards and are well-groomed and eat and drink and are happy on Rosh Hashanah, "for they know that the Holy One Blessed is He will perform a miracle for them. . . "
Let's leave aside the philosophical discussions about miracles and the natural order. What is the miracle that the Tur (quoting the Midrash) is describing?
I have an undeveloped idea, but I welcome your input first. Please post your comments, don't just email them to me!
Let's leave aside the philosophical discussions about miracles and the natural order. What is the miracle that the Tur (quoting the Midrash) is describing?
I have an undeveloped idea, but I welcome your input first. Please post your comments, don't just email them to me!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Jewish people, and a plan for Teshuva
There is (or was--I don't know anyone who does this anymore) a custom to fast on the day before Rosh Hashanah. The classic halachic work of the 14th century, the Tur, by Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, describes this minhag as being based on a Midrash.
The Midrash Tanchuma describes a king to whom a state owes taxes or tribute. The king himself, after some time, comes to the city with a great army to collect the taxes. When he gets to some distance still far from the city, the great citizens of the country come out to greet him and say "We don't have anything to give you." So he forgives 1/3 of the tax debt. When the king gets closer, the basic, good people come out and he forgives another 1/3. Finally, when he gets closer to the country, the entire population comes out to greet him and he forgives the whole thing.
So, too, the Midrash says, the Jewish people and God. We have sinned, and God, as it were, comes to us. The great people fast on Erev Rosh Hashanah, and God forgives 1/3. Then, during the ten days of Repentance between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the basic, good people fast, and God forgives 1/3. Finally, on Yom Kippur, the entire nation fasts, and God forgives us for all of the sins.
Midrashim are not meant to be taken literally in most cases (see Rabbi Avraham ben haRambam's introduction to Midrash, printed in the front of many copies of the book Ein Yaakov). So what does this Midrash mean?
A very basic reading reveals several important ideas: That the Jewish people---great and not so great, pious and not so pious-- are connected together. There is no such thing as complete spiritual success for a righteous person so long as the nation of Israel is not spiritually successful, because 1) we are all connected by bonds of family, and 2) we are all connected by bonds of mission--our goal as a Nation can only be fulfilled by the entire nation.
Another idea is that Teshuva is a process. Erev Rosh Hashanah is a certain level, the ten days of repentance another level, Yom Kippur an even higher one. The way we approach the repentance of these days cannot be just "okay, it'sThe time for me to repent." We all have failings, some large and some small. Some sins are bigger or smaller because of the nature of the sin. Others are bigger or smaller depending on how deeply rooted the sin is in our habit. (A big sin committed once but easily abandoned in the future may be easier to atone for than smaller sins that are deeply rooted).
The Beit Yosef, the commentary on the Tur by Rabbi Yosef Caro, asks a question about the above Midrash. How can the Midrash imply that Erev Rosh Hashanah is the equivalent of Yom Kippur and of the entire ten days of repentance, since it atones for the same amount/quality/etc. of sin (1/3). How can this be, he asks? His answer is that the first 1/3 is the easiest to atone for. The 2nd third is more difficult, and the third 1/3, which are forgiven on Yom Kippur, are the most difficult.
Perhaps this gives us a schedule for spiritual preparation. When thinking about our sins (and our failures to do positive mitzvot, and our character failings), we start with the easier things and move on to the more difficult things. We don't want Yom Kippur to come by and our minds are a jumble of memories of failings and faults. Instead, we want it to arrive having planned which are the sins and failings to work on first, before Rosh Hashanah, which are either bigger or more deeply rooted and need more time, and which are the worst, most deeply rooted and need for their fixing (and the resultant forgiveness) the profound breaking of the heart that is often characteristic of Yom Kippur.
Each person knows their own heart and their own past. There is still much to accomplish in this process, and if we do it in an organized way, much time to be successful at it.
The Midrash Tanchuma describes a king to whom a state owes taxes or tribute. The king himself, after some time, comes to the city with a great army to collect the taxes. When he gets to some distance still far from the city, the great citizens of the country come out to greet him and say "We don't have anything to give you." So he forgives 1/3 of the tax debt. When the king gets closer, the basic, good people come out and he forgives another 1/3. Finally, when he gets closer to the country, the entire population comes out to greet him and he forgives the whole thing.
So, too, the Midrash says, the Jewish people and God. We have sinned, and God, as it were, comes to us. The great people fast on Erev Rosh Hashanah, and God forgives 1/3. Then, during the ten days of Repentance between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the basic, good people fast, and God forgives 1/3. Finally, on Yom Kippur, the entire nation fasts, and God forgives us for all of the sins.
Midrashim are not meant to be taken literally in most cases (see Rabbi Avraham ben haRambam's introduction to Midrash, printed in the front of many copies of the book Ein Yaakov). So what does this Midrash mean?
A very basic reading reveals several important ideas: That the Jewish people---great and not so great, pious and not so pious-- are connected together. There is no such thing as complete spiritual success for a righteous person so long as the nation of Israel is not spiritually successful, because 1) we are all connected by bonds of family, and 2) we are all connected by bonds of mission--our goal as a Nation can only be fulfilled by the entire nation.
Another idea is that Teshuva is a process. Erev Rosh Hashanah is a certain level, the ten days of repentance another level, Yom Kippur an even higher one. The way we approach the repentance of these days cannot be just "okay, it'sThe time for me to repent." We all have failings, some large and some small. Some sins are bigger or smaller because of the nature of the sin. Others are bigger or smaller depending on how deeply rooted the sin is in our habit. (A big sin committed once but easily abandoned in the future may be easier to atone for than smaller sins that are deeply rooted).
The Beit Yosef, the commentary on the Tur by Rabbi Yosef Caro, asks a question about the above Midrash. How can the Midrash imply that Erev Rosh Hashanah is the equivalent of Yom Kippur and of the entire ten days of repentance, since it atones for the same amount/quality/etc. of sin (1/3). How can this be, he asks? His answer is that the first 1/3 is the easiest to atone for. The 2nd third is more difficult, and the third 1/3, which are forgiven on Yom Kippur, are the most difficult.
Perhaps this gives us a schedule for spiritual preparation. When thinking about our sins (and our failures to do positive mitzvot, and our character failings), we start with the easier things and move on to the more difficult things. We don't want Yom Kippur to come by and our minds are a jumble of memories of failings and faults. Instead, we want it to arrive having planned which are the sins and failings to work on first, before Rosh Hashanah, which are either bigger or more deeply rooted and need more time, and which are the worst, most deeply rooted and need for their fixing (and the resultant forgiveness) the profound breaking of the heart that is often characteristic of Yom Kippur.
Each person knows their own heart and their own past. There is still much to accomplish in this process, and if we do it in an organized way, much time to be successful at it.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Is good part of the year any good at all?
Due to a variety of time-consuming but mundane reasons relating to the sale of my house, living in wonderful but temporary quarters, moving to Israel, and moving into our home for the year, I have failed to blog since Pesach! My apologies. I will try to offer some substance as we approach Rosh Hashanah.
Let me begin indirectly. My first cycle of Nach Yomi I fell many, many chapters behind. My second cycle was pretty much on target, never falling very far off without catching up. This cycle seems to follow the first model. I missed several chapters in Melachim Bet, and I am up to Yirmiyahu 43. The Nach Yomi cycle is officially on Yechezkel 12, which means that I am about 25 chapters behind, not including the Melachim chapters.
Why does this matter? Because I know that when I fall behind, it is very easy to say "it's too hard to catch up, I won't accomplish my goal," and just give up. I think it's important to stay in the game, and if you started Nach Yomi with me, I urge you to pick it up again. I would recommend starting at Yirmiyahu chapter 40 and reading straight through. It picks up after the destruction of the first Beit Hamikdash by the Babylonians, and tells the story of Gedaliah ben Ahikam, a Babylonian-appointed Jewish ruler with a shred of autonomy over the Jews of Jerusalem, and his assassination. It is the reason why we fast the day after Rosh Hashanah, on Tzom Gedaliah. Perhaps more on the connection later.
The message of this post is: In learning and in any observance where we have failed to live up to the high goals we set for ourselves last year at this time, we must keep trying. Even if we fail, let's look at it this way: If our spiritual accomplishments have an uptick in Elul and Tishrei, and then again just in the month of Nissan, when we celebrate Passover, even if we fail in some of our goals the rest of the year, we will have had an elevated time of mitzvot and learning 1/4 of the year. Is 3 months of more focused moral development, spirituality and observance worthwhile? Absolutely.
The Torah, in presenting the commandment of lulav and etrog, states that we should "take for yourselves on the first day, the fruit of a goodly tree. . . " Why, the Midrash asks, is it called the "first day"? On Pesach, the Torah tells us to eat Matzah on the 15th of Nissan, identifying it as the 15th. Why doesn't it tell us to take the lulav and etrog on the 15th of Tishrei, calling it the 15th? Why instead is it called the "first day"? We certainly don't need the Torah to tell us that it is the first day of Sukkot, just as we can figure out when the first day of Pesach is.
Answers the Midrash, it is the first day for something else--- for counting sins. The Jewish people come out of Yom Kippur cleansed of sin, and for the next five days, between the spiritual high of Yom Kippur and the business of preparing for Sukkot, there is no time to sin! We are too busy doing Mitzvot. So only when the preparations are over, Yom Kippur is a bit behind us (just 5 days!), do we have the time to sin.
So why are we so happy on Sukkot--isn't it the beginning of our descent, our downward spiral? Well, 5 days of holiness and purity are nothing to slouch at! What an amazing thing. Even if we can't keep it up (which we must certainly try to do, and even succeed at, but that's another discussion as to how), it is so valuable in and of itself that we can rejoice on Sukkot, zman simchateinu, without reservation.
So the failings of the past year are not a reason to be depressed. We will have more success this time. But when the inevitable failures do come, when the time for counting of sins starts, we will still rejoice in the holiness, the spirituality, and the higher moral living that we were able to bring into this world.
Good only part of the year is not our ideal--far from it. But good it is.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Do you have a quick idea for the Seder?
In the day or two before Pesach, I thought I'd share two quick thoughts for the Seder, and ask that you add a comment with a quick idea from your Seder.
1) "An outstretched arm"--- What is the imagery of an outstretched arm? Is it just a repetition of "strong hand", another metaphor for God's power? Perhaps it means that the hand of someone helping another must be outstretched, but the one being helped cannot be rescued until he or she grasps the outstretched arm of the rescuer. Thus, redemption required God's outstretched arm--and our taking of it.
2) Ma Nishtana-- I heard from Rabbi Tzvi Sobolofsky that the Abarbanel understands the four questions as relating to the Korban Pesach (or at least the first question relating to it). Thus, "on all other nights we eat chametz and matzah, tonight only matzah" means: on all other nights that we bring a Korban Todah, a thanksgiving offering, it is brought together with chametz and matzah (according to the halachot of a korban todah), but this thanksgiving offering--the passover offering, we eat it only with matzah. Thus, the Korban Pesach is a type of Thanksgiving offering, but it is different from the regular one.
Please leave an idea or two of your own in the comments.
chag kasher v'sameach,
Michael Merdinger
1) "An outstretched arm"--- What is the imagery of an outstretched arm? Is it just a repetition of "strong hand", another metaphor for God's power? Perhaps it means that the hand of someone helping another must be outstretched, but the one being helped cannot be rescued until he or she grasps the outstretched arm of the rescuer. Thus, redemption required God's outstretched arm--and our taking of it.
2) Ma Nishtana-- I heard from Rabbi Tzvi Sobolofsky that the Abarbanel understands the four questions as relating to the Korban Pesach (or at least the first question relating to it). Thus, "on all other nights we eat chametz and matzah, tonight only matzah" means: on all other nights that we bring a Korban Todah, a thanksgiving offering, it is brought together with chametz and matzah (according to the halachot of a korban todah), but this thanksgiving offering--the passover offering, we eat it only with matzah. Thus, the Korban Pesach is a type of Thanksgiving offering, but it is different from the regular one.
Please leave an idea or two of your own in the comments.
chag kasher v'sameach,
Michael Merdinger
Oops! We forgot the most important part of the Seder!
A slight divergence from Nach, to Pesach.
What is the most important mitzvah of the Seder that many people forget?
To answer this, let's think about the statement of the Mishnah, which is found in our Haggadah: "In each and every generation, a person must see himself as if he left Egypt."
We discuss this every Pesach. Matzah, Maror, Magid, the four cups are all part of how we recreate that experience. And of course, hard internal work is necessary to utilize these tools to get to the point of seeing ourselves as if we left Egypt.
But remember the end of Maggid? After the whole story is over, we say the word "Therefore."
Therefore. We recognize what God did (that's seeing ourselves as leaving Egypt), and then we say "Therefore." Therefore, because what God did, "we are obligated to give thanks, to praise, to extol. . . to the One who did for forefathers and for us all of these miracles. . ."
The purpose of Maggid is to make us aware. Then we are called upon to respond, and that response is Hallel.
To blow through Hallel is to miss the point of the Seder. If we skim through it, if we skip it, then we show that we didn't really do Maggid. So take a few minutes before Pesach starts to review Hallel. A lot of people aren't so familiar with it, it sounds repetitive, it is uncomfortable to our "modern" worldview. But not everything unfamiliar should stay that way, the themes of Hallel are both complex and uplifting, and sometimes we need to venture out of our comfort zone and adjust our worldview.
Chag kasher v'sameach.
What is the most important mitzvah of the Seder that many people forget?
To answer this, let's think about the statement of the Mishnah, which is found in our Haggadah: "In each and every generation, a person must see himself as if he left Egypt."
We discuss this every Pesach. Matzah, Maror, Magid, the four cups are all part of how we recreate that experience. And of course, hard internal work is necessary to utilize these tools to get to the point of seeing ourselves as if we left Egypt.
But remember the end of Maggid? After the whole story is over, we say the word "Therefore."
Therefore. We recognize what God did (that's seeing ourselves as leaving Egypt), and then we say "Therefore." Therefore, because what God did, "we are obligated to give thanks, to praise, to extol. . . to the One who did for forefathers and for us all of these miracles. . ."
The purpose of Maggid is to make us aware. Then we are called upon to respond, and that response is Hallel.
To blow through Hallel is to miss the point of the Seder. If we skim through it, if we skip it, then we show that we didn't really do Maggid. So take a few minutes before Pesach starts to review Hallel. A lot of people aren't so familiar with it, it sounds repetitive, it is uncomfortable to our "modern" worldview. But not everything unfamiliar should stay that way, the themes of Hallel are both complex and uplifting, and sometimes we need to venture out of our comfort zone and adjust our worldview.
Chag kasher v'sameach.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
King Shlomo-- "I told you so"
"When you come into the land tht the Lord your God gives you and you inherit it and dwell in it, and say 'I will place a king over me like all the nations around me.' You shall place a king over you that the Lord your God chooses. . . Only that he should not have many horses . . . and he shall not have many wives in order that his heart not be turned aside, and silver and gold he shall not have much of." Devarim 17:14-17
The Torah says that a Jewish king:
1. shouldn't have many horses
2. shouldn't have many wives so they don't lead him astray
and
3. shouldn't have much silver and gold.
Shlomo Hamelech is a cautionary tale. He asked God only for understanding, and God richly rewarded him not just with understanding, but with a long life and wealth as well. He builds the Beit HaMikdash, he makes Israel into a marvel of the ancient world--- a big kiddush Hashem.
But then, the Queen of Sheva comes and visits and is awed by Shlomo's wisdom and wealth.
We learn:
1. That he has 1,400 chariots (Melachim I 10:26) (chariots are pulled by horses--see above)
2. All of his drinking utensils were gold; silver was considered worthless in the days of Shlomo (because of its abundance) (Melachim I 10: 21)
And finally:
3. Shlomo loved foreign women and took many of them as wives, and they led him into idolatry. (See chapter 11).
The plain meaning of the book of Melachim I is a cautionary tale-- Shlomo Hamelech may have thought the Torah's proscriptions (and prescriptions) were not for someone as wise as he was. He may have thought he could avoid the pitfalls. But he was wrong.
*****
Side point: There is an issue as to whether Shlomo actually engaged in idolatry, or just didn't prevent his wives from doing so. This ties into a bigger question of how the Torah and the prophets describe the sins of our forefathers, and whether those descriptions are exaggerated. I meant to post on this with regard to David and Batsheva.
Side point: God seems so displeased with Shlomo, especially contrasted with David. But David clearly sinned (specifically with Batsheva and Uriah). Why is David the model king, with all his imperfections? I think it is because he is a ba'al teshuvah. When he does wrong, he admits it. He confesses. He repents. As opposed to Shaul who preceded him, who had difficulty admitting his sin, and also opposed to Shlomo his son, who started off righteous, and then went downhill.
The message is simultaneously scary and inspiring: No matter how great, anyone can crash and burn like Shlomo; no matter how low one has fallen, anyone can redeem himself with teshuvah like David.
The Torah says that a Jewish king:
1. shouldn't have many horses
2. shouldn't have many wives so they don't lead him astray
and
3. shouldn't have much silver and gold.
Shlomo Hamelech is a cautionary tale. He asked God only for understanding, and God richly rewarded him not just with understanding, but with a long life and wealth as well. He builds the Beit HaMikdash, he makes Israel into a marvel of the ancient world--- a big kiddush Hashem.
But then, the Queen of Sheva comes and visits and is awed by Shlomo's wisdom and wealth.
We learn:
1. That he has 1,400 chariots (Melachim I 10:26) (chariots are pulled by horses--see above)
2. All of his drinking utensils were gold; silver was considered worthless in the days of Shlomo (because of its abundance) (Melachim I 10: 21)
And finally:
3. Shlomo loved foreign women and took many of them as wives, and they led him into idolatry. (See chapter 11).
The plain meaning of the book of Melachim I is a cautionary tale-- Shlomo Hamelech may have thought the Torah's proscriptions (and prescriptions) were not for someone as wise as he was. He may have thought he could avoid the pitfalls. But he was wrong.
*****
Side point: There is an issue as to whether Shlomo actually engaged in idolatry, or just didn't prevent his wives from doing so. This ties into a bigger question of how the Torah and the prophets describe the sins of our forefathers, and whether those descriptions are exaggerated. I meant to post on this with regard to David and Batsheva.
Side point: God seems so displeased with Shlomo, especially contrasted with David. But David clearly sinned (specifically with Batsheva and Uriah). Why is David the model king, with all his imperfections? I think it is because he is a ba'al teshuvah. When he does wrong, he admits it. He confesses. He repents. As opposed to Shaul who preceded him, who had difficulty admitting his sin, and also opposed to Shlomo his son, who started off righteous, and then went downhill.
The message is simultaneously scary and inspiring: No matter how great, anyone can crash and burn like Shlomo; no matter how low one has fallen, anyone can redeem himself with teshuvah like David.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
The séance for Shaul---Shmuel I, Chapter 28
Shaul’s searching for a necromancer to raise up Shmuel from the dead so he could take advice from him is certainly a striking one. One of the larger tangential (meaning it is not the point of the text) issues that arises from this passage is that it seems clear that Shmuel was indeed raised from the dead.
Does this mean that magic and necromancy are real?
The argument is certainly strong, and not just from this passage. Why would the Torah itself prohibit the practice of magic if there were no such thing? (See Shemot Chapter 22, and Devarim Chapter 18).
There is a famous disagreement between the Rambam and the Ramban. The Rambam held that in reality, there was no such thing as magic. The Torah prohibited it precisely because it was a useless endeavor, perhaps to deceive the masses, when people should be instead focused on devotion to God. Imagine, in a modern context, the plethora of “New Age” philosophies that have led Jews away from the Torah in their search for spirituality.
The Ramban understands differently, holding that indeed there is such a thing as magic, which is what the Torah prohibits. It is not so difficult to understand the Ramban in light of the various earlier sources.
But what about the Rambam? The price he pays for his rationalism is in textual analysis. The Rambam has a tendency to try to understand biblical passages as being understandable from a rationalist viewpoint. Thus, if I recall correctly, on our passage he interprets the whole apparition of Shmuel as a vision of Shaul, not as the actual raising of Shmuel from the dead. Similarly, Bilaam’s donkey didn’t actually talk—the whole incident was a prophetic vision.
Thus, the Rambam would argue that Shaul’s séance to raise up Shmuel didn’t really succeed to raise Shmuel from the dead. Instead, he had a vision. Presumably, in order to make the message Shmuel gives to Shaul cogent from a “why is this in the book of Shmuel” point of view, the Rambam would have to understand that God guided this vision in order to give Shaul the message.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Shaul’s failure to defeat Amalek (Shmuel I, Chapter 15)
This is not so timely, as we have started Sefer Melachim in our cycle. But I wrote it while recently in Israel, and we read Shmuel I, Chapter 15 it for last week's Haftarah, so here it is. I will endeavor to catch up.
“God sent me to anoint you as king over his nation, over Israel. So listen now to the voice of the words of God.”
So does Shmuel introduce his command to King Shaul to wage war and destroy Amalek, including every human being therein, as well as all their livestock.
The story is very clear that Shaul failed, and it is because of this failure that the kingship is torn from him. He failed because he spared some of the animals, and spared Agag, the king of Amalek.
Why is this sin so horrible that God decides that it merits the removal of Shaul from his position as king?
After all, we are told that Shaul and the nation “had compassion” on Agag and the best of the animals, and that Shaul intended to sacrifice the animals to God! Furthermore, Shaul does not even seem to be aware that he failed—he tells Shmuel upon first meeting him “I have fulfilled the word of God”.
Here are 3 answers:
1) The plain meaning of the text is that Shaul disobeyed God and substituted his own judgment for God’s clear will which had been communicated to him by a prophet.
2) Additionally, there seems to be a clear indication that Shaul lacked the leadership qualities necessary to be king. Thus, he lays the blame at the feet of the people (they wanted the animals”. Shmuel rebukes him that even though Shaul doesn’t think much of himself, he is the king and must lead. And finally, Shaul admits that he was afraid of the people. Thus, his sin was not mere disobedience to God, but also disobedience that was motivated by fear and an inability to lead the people. And if the king cannot lead the people to serve God, then he is not worthy to be king.
3) Finally, the destruction of Amalek is an unusual commandment, because the actions involved are normally considered the most heinous of sins—murder. Thus, a failure—by sparing Agag and the animals--- to fulfill the commandment completely means that the commandment was not followed—Amalek was not wiped out. And if this is the case, then when Shaul killed the thousands of Amaleki people, his actions essentially became murder.
On a different note, I wonder about the following: Could Shaul have beseeched God on behalf of Amalek, as Avraham did for the people of Sedom? Would such an entreaty have been Abrahamic in its merit, or impermissible in this particular case?
Monday, February 6, 2012
King David-- In Contrast
It struck me how much of Sefer Shmuel is dedicated to contrasts: Specifically between David Hamelech--King David--and everybody else.
Here are two examples:
1) In Chapter 22, David flees from Shaul to Maalot Adulam, and who "gathers around" him ? Desperate people, people pursued by creditors, people who are bitter of soul.
Where have we seen this before? With Yiftach, in Shoftim Chapter 11, Yiftach flees from his brothers, and he becomes the leader of a group of "empty men."
2) In the end of Chapter 25, Shaul takes his daughter Michal--David's wife-- and marries her off to another man, Palti ben Layish. This, too, we saw with Shimshon, when his wife was given over to another man, at the end of Chapter 14 of Sefer Shoftim.
Of course, there are also contrasts to be had with Shaul-- that is a discussion for another time. But what is the significance of these contrasts?
It seems that David's good behavior/responses is being contrasted with the unfavorable responses of those who preceded him when faced with similar trials. Yiftach, as we saw, is one of the worst of the Shoftim. David is clearly viewed favorably (overall) by the prophets. Yet both have, early in their careers, a role as the leader of a group of vagabonds. Their commonality draws attention to their differences. Here, in David, is the king who is the antidote to the terrible period of the Judges.
Shimshon, as well, was one of the worst of the Shoftim. His response to having his wife taken from him was revenge (in the incident with the foxes and the torches). David's was to wait until he was king, and to demand Michal back. (In Chapter 3 of Shmuel 2). Now certainly, Palti ben Layish was crying all the way at the loss of his wife. But we have no indication that David knew of this.
In sum: There are parallels in the life of David to events in the lives of the Judges. My suggestion is that these parallels are told to us to encourage us to compare and contrast David with those Judges. The period of Judges was untenable, and a king was needed. The book of Samuel is trying to show what was right about David, how he was the ideal king.
Here are two examples:
1) In Chapter 22, David flees from Shaul to Maalot Adulam, and who "gathers around" him ? Desperate people, people pursued by creditors, people who are bitter of soul.
Where have we seen this before? With Yiftach, in Shoftim Chapter 11, Yiftach flees from his brothers, and he becomes the leader of a group of "empty men."
2) In the end of Chapter 25, Shaul takes his daughter Michal--David's wife-- and marries her off to another man, Palti ben Layish. This, too, we saw with Shimshon, when his wife was given over to another man, at the end of Chapter 14 of Sefer Shoftim.
Of course, there are also contrasts to be had with Shaul-- that is a discussion for another time. But what is the significance of these contrasts?
It seems that David's good behavior/responses is being contrasted with the unfavorable responses of those who preceded him when faced with similar trials. Yiftach, as we saw, is one of the worst of the Shoftim. David is clearly viewed favorably (overall) by the prophets. Yet both have, early in their careers, a role as the leader of a group of vagabonds. Their commonality draws attention to their differences. Here, in David, is the king who is the antidote to the terrible period of the Judges.
Shimshon, as well, was one of the worst of the Shoftim. His response to having his wife taken from him was revenge (in the incident with the foxes and the torches). David's was to wait until he was king, and to demand Michal back. (In Chapter 3 of Shmuel 2). Now certainly, Palti ben Layish was crying all the way at the loss of his wife. But we have no indication that David knew of this.
In sum: There are parallels in the life of David to events in the lives of the Judges. My suggestion is that these parallels are told to us to encourage us to compare and contrast David with those Judges. The period of Judges was untenable, and a king was needed. The book of Samuel is trying to show what was right about David, how he was the ideal king.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Who should have been the first king of Israel?--Introduction to Shmuel I
I'm so sorry for the long delay in posting. So I'll get right to it.
First, the book of I Samuel and II Samuel (Shmuel Alef and Bet) are really one, big book. If I recall correctly, the division into two books was done by Christian scholars, and it is a division we retain for convenience purposes.
Second, the overall timeline of the book of Shmuel is not so large-- it spans the lives of Shmuel, Saul, and David. Compare that to Judges, which covered a period of several hundred years, and to Kings, which also spans hundreds of years.
Third is the main point I want to discuss in this post. Shmuel's birth is preceded by the famous story of Chanah's prayer in Chapter 1. He is dedicated to God from before birth, and lo and behold, he becomes a successful servant of God. God speaks to him when prophecy had otherwise ceased. He serves God in a devoted fashion. He leads the people.
On the one hand, compare him to the only other Judge who was dedicated to God before birth--Shimshon. While Shimshon was the low point (see this post here), Shmuel is the high point, at least as regards leadership. He lives up to his potential as a religious personality and as a Shofet, a Judge. Shmuel is the culmination of the period of Judges, and he is the most successful, righteous Judge.
Take home message: Shmuel was one of the Shoftim, the Judges.
On the other hand, when the people ask for a king in chapter 8, Shmuel sees this as a rejection of his leadership. God says to him, "They're not rejecting you, they're rejecting Me." The question is, why would Shmuel see this as a personal rejection? After all, the reason they get upset is because Shmuel makes his sons into Shoftim when he gets old, and they become corrupted, taking bribes, running after gain. Aren't they just fed up with the system of Shoftim, some better and some worse?
Now this is my theory, and I take responsibility for it and the likelihood that it is incorrect. But I think that what is happening here is that Shmuel sees himself as being able to pass the "Judgehood" on to his sons. But this is the very thing that characterizes a king! After all, recall in the book of Judges that the Judge Gidon did not want the honor of kingship, and his son, Avimelech, tried to become king.
My suggestion is that Kingship is centralized rule by dynastic succession, and Shmuel tried to set that up in his own life. Not for personal glory-- we see that he is indeed, a holy person. But rather, in order to create the continuous, centralized authority that was absent during the period of the Shoftim.
Thus, there is reason to think that the people are rejecting Shmuel when they ask for a king, and therefore, God tells him "No, they're not rejecting you, they're rejecting Me." Because the people's choice of a king is motivated not only by their dissatisfaction with the corruption of Shmuel's sons, but by a more negative reason as well. (Which we will probably discuss later).
To sum up: Shmuel is a bridge between the period of the Judges and the Kings. He rules as a Shofet, a Judge. But he has a centralized power and tries to pass it on, in the manner of a king (We will see also how he finishes the king's job of killing Amalek when King Saul does not do it. This is another example of how Shmuel is not just a judge and prophet, but also a type of king). And, of course, he is the last of the Judges, who acts in God's name when he anoints the first king of Israel. He is thus a bridge in the sense that he himself is both a judge and a king, and in the sense that he ushers in the transition between the judges and the kings.
First, the book of I Samuel and II Samuel (Shmuel Alef and Bet) are really one, big book. If I recall correctly, the division into two books was done by Christian scholars, and it is a division we retain for convenience purposes.
Second, the overall timeline of the book of Shmuel is not so large-- it spans the lives of Shmuel, Saul, and David. Compare that to Judges, which covered a period of several hundred years, and to Kings, which also spans hundreds of years.
Third is the main point I want to discuss in this post. Shmuel's birth is preceded by the famous story of Chanah's prayer in Chapter 1. He is dedicated to God from before birth, and lo and behold, he becomes a successful servant of God. God speaks to him when prophecy had otherwise ceased. He serves God in a devoted fashion. He leads the people.
On the one hand, compare him to the only other Judge who was dedicated to God before birth--Shimshon. While Shimshon was the low point (see this post here), Shmuel is the high point, at least as regards leadership. He lives up to his potential as a religious personality and as a Shofet, a Judge. Shmuel is the culmination of the period of Judges, and he is the most successful, righteous Judge.
Take home message: Shmuel was one of the Shoftim, the Judges.
On the other hand, when the people ask for a king in chapter 8, Shmuel sees this as a rejection of his leadership. God says to him, "They're not rejecting you, they're rejecting Me." The question is, why would Shmuel see this as a personal rejection? After all, the reason they get upset is because Shmuel makes his sons into Shoftim when he gets old, and they become corrupted, taking bribes, running after gain. Aren't they just fed up with the system of Shoftim, some better and some worse?
Now this is my theory, and I take responsibility for it and the likelihood that it is incorrect. But I think that what is happening here is that Shmuel sees himself as being able to pass the "Judgehood" on to his sons. But this is the very thing that characterizes a king! After all, recall in the book of Judges that the Judge Gidon did not want the honor of kingship, and his son, Avimelech, tried to become king.
My suggestion is that Kingship is centralized rule by dynastic succession, and Shmuel tried to set that up in his own life. Not for personal glory-- we see that he is indeed, a holy person. But rather, in order to create the continuous, centralized authority that was absent during the period of the Shoftim.
Thus, there is reason to think that the people are rejecting Shmuel when they ask for a king, and therefore, God tells him "No, they're not rejecting you, they're rejecting Me." Because the people's choice of a king is motivated not only by their dissatisfaction with the corruption of Shmuel's sons, but by a more negative reason as well. (Which we will probably discuss later).
To sum up: Shmuel is a bridge between the period of the Judges and the Kings. He rules as a Shofet, a Judge. But he has a centralized power and tries to pass it on, in the manner of a king (We will see also how he finishes the king's job of killing Amalek when King Saul does not do it. This is another example of how Shmuel is not just a judge and prophet, but also a type of king). And, of course, he is the last of the Judges, who acts in God's name when he anoints the first king of Israel. He is thus a bridge in the sense that he himself is both a judge and a king, and in the sense that he ushers in the transition between the judges and the kings.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The end of Sefer Shoftim-- What's Right in Their Own Eyes
Chapters 17-21 of Sefer Shoftim don't follow the same pattern as the first 16 chapters of the book. Here there are no outside enemies, no general statements of the sins of Israel, no Judges to save them.
Instead, we have two incidents that are disturbing, even nauseating. (This and the next paragraph are summaries of the chapters; additional ideas are below these paragraphs). The first, about "pesel Michah", the story of Michah, (not to be confused with the prophet of the same name) a man from the tribe of Efrayim, who builds an idol and hires his own Levi to serve as his personal priest. Some armed members of the tribe of Dan come, forcibly remove the Levi and make him their priest, and seek out some land. They then set up the idol for themselves, and set up "Gershon son of Menashe" as their priests.
The second is the story of Pilegesh b'Givah, of the man and his concubine who, traveling as night comes, decide not to stay in the "dangerous" Jebusite city of Jerusalem, but instead go on to the city of Givah in the area of Benjamin, where they are taken in by the only hospitable man there. With deliberate echoes of the story of Sodom, the townspeople surround the home, demand that they "know" the man, and instead, the man throws out his concubine to the people, who rape and abuse her until morning. The next morning, the husband finds his wife dead, cuts her up into twelve pieces, and sends the pieces of her body to all the tribes of Israel. The tribes of Israel assemble an army together and demand of the tribe of Benjamin that they hand over the men of Givah to be killed. The tribe of Benjamin refuses, there is a civil war where all the men of Benjamin except for 600 are killed, and the other tribes swear they will not give their daughters to the men of Benjamin for wives. They then regret this oath, and come up with two brutal ways to "marry off" the men of Benjamin so the entire tribe of Benjamin is not wiped out.
A few things to note:
1) The priest who was established by the tribe of Dan to serve the idol they stole is "Yehonatan ben Gershom ben Menashe." The "nun" of Menashe is written in a large letter in the Hebrew text. The Talmud (Bava Batra 109b) says that this "nun" really hides the true identity of the grandfather of this Yehonatan. His grandfather is not Menashe, but Moshe--Moshe Rabeinu. In other words, the grandson of Moshe Rabeinu was set up as the priest for this idol established by the tribe of Dan.
This raises a number of issues and questions for thought. Was there anything that Moshe Rabeinu did or didn't do that led to this degraded fate of his grandson? Is there any guarantee for the results of human action? (and does God ever hold us accountable for results?)
2) On a broader note, these horrible stories that end the book of Shoftim appear to have taken place earlier, not at the end of this period. For example, reference is made to Pinchas the son of Elazar the son of Aharon haKohen. For Pinchas to have been alive even at the beginning of the period of Shoftim, he presumably must have been extremely old. But certainly, the story did not take place later than that.
So why are these stories placed at the end of the book, disregarding chronology? I think it is because they paint a detailed picture of the degradation to which the Jewish people had sunk at various times during this period, and thus highlights the need for a centralized leader to keep them in line with God's will. Thus, the book ends "In those days, there was no king in Israel, each man did what was right in his own eyes."
Presumably, having a "king in Israel", while not a guarantee of spiritual success, will at least give the possibility of raising the spiritual and moral level of the people. On this note we transition to the book of Shmuel I, where the last (and indeed spiritually the greatest) of the Judges, Shmuel, anoints the first of the kings of Israel, king Saul.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Yiftach and Shimshon
I had discussed in a previous post that the purpose of Sefer Shoftim (or one of its purposes) is to show that the Jewish people needed a centralized leadership, as opposed to the pattern laid out in Chapter 3 of Shoftim, of the people serving God, straying, getting punished, crying out, and getting saved by a Shofet, a "Judge" whom God would save to rescue them, and then starting the cycle again.
We see, in the overall sweep of Sefer Shoftim, a decrease in quality of the leadership of the Shoftim themselves. The Shofet reflects the people. Thus, early on we have Yehoshua himself, we have Ehud ben Gera (who isn't presented negatively at all, although not much stands out), Devorah, who is presented in a very good light, judging the people and leading them, as well as instilling the confidence in her military (i.e. the general Barak) and inspiring the people in the praise of God (the Song of Devorah).
Gidon we already discussed, and while I presented his doubts as something that can give the modern Jew some comfort, at the same time, he asked for miraculous proof after proof from God Himself. And the 300 men who followed him didn't have that luxury. So while Gidon is still a strong leader, and of fine character (he turns down the kingship), he is arguably a step down.
Certainly, Avimelech, Gidon's son, is a big step down, murdering his brothers and seizing power.
Then we get to Yiftach and Shimshon. Yiftach is turned away from the people because of his lowly parentage, and leads a bunch of "empty men", presumably some band of outlaws. The people only want him to lead because they feel he is their only hope as a military leader. He agrees to save them only if he can then lead them. And he then impetuously offers to God the first thing that comes out of his gate, which, ironically, is his daughter. The Sefer leads us to understand that Yiftach actually killed his daughter in fulfillment of his vow. Certainly, this horrific act is a huge demonstration of the deterioration of the leadership of Israel. (Even if he didn't actually kill his daughter, the language of the text is such that we see it is a grave, serious mistake in judgment and values).
Shimshon lacks even what Yiftach had. Yiftach led the people, but Shimshon never seems to have had the Jewish people's interests in mind at all, even as he went about saving them. Chosen by God before his birth to be a Nazir, it seems God would have high hopes for Shimshon. Yet Shimshon has an eye for Philistine women (and is the first recorded example of a son to whom his parents say "Aren't there any nice Jewish girls you can marry instead?") and kills Philistines not because they are oppressing the Jews, but to get revenge for 1) figuring out his riddle, and 2) marrying off his first wife to another man after he had rejected her, and 3) for gouging out his eyes.
He turns to God, but it is always to avenge his own honor. Shimshon, though the favorite of elementary school boys because of his physical strength and military might, is the nadir of the Shoftim. We would never really be aware that he served as a leader except for a summary pasuk stating that he did (I don't have a Tanach in front of me, but I recall such a pasuk).
I'm not trying to "bash" our ancestors, to "diminish" our holy Tzadikim and point out their flaws. We have many holy ancestors (though only God is perfect), many of them in Tanach. But it seems that Yiftach and Shimshon are counter-examples, and part of a particular downward spiral.
Chazal certainly saw them on a lower level. In affirming that we must always be bound to the leadership of our time, even if our leaders are inferior to leaders of previous generations, the Talmud states: "Yiftach b'doro k'Shmuel b'doro", "Yiftach in his generation is like Shmuel in his generation". Yiftach was clearly an example of an inferior leader.
Of course, the monarchy, as we shall see in subsequent books of the Nevi'im, was not always successful either. But it at least offers the possibility of strong, righteous leadership, which the structure of the people in the period of Judges did not provide.
We see, in the overall sweep of Sefer Shoftim, a decrease in quality of the leadership of the Shoftim themselves. The Shofet reflects the people. Thus, early on we have Yehoshua himself, we have Ehud ben Gera (who isn't presented negatively at all, although not much stands out), Devorah, who is presented in a very good light, judging the people and leading them, as well as instilling the confidence in her military (i.e. the general Barak) and inspiring the people in the praise of God (the Song of Devorah).
Gidon we already discussed, and while I presented his doubts as something that can give the modern Jew some comfort, at the same time, he asked for miraculous proof after proof from God Himself. And the 300 men who followed him didn't have that luxury. So while Gidon is still a strong leader, and of fine character (he turns down the kingship), he is arguably a step down.
Certainly, Avimelech, Gidon's son, is a big step down, murdering his brothers and seizing power.
Then we get to Yiftach and Shimshon. Yiftach is turned away from the people because of his lowly parentage, and leads a bunch of "empty men", presumably some band of outlaws. The people only want him to lead because they feel he is their only hope as a military leader. He agrees to save them only if he can then lead them. And he then impetuously offers to God the first thing that comes out of his gate, which, ironically, is his daughter. The Sefer leads us to understand that Yiftach actually killed his daughter in fulfillment of his vow. Certainly, this horrific act is a huge demonstration of the deterioration of the leadership of Israel. (Even if he didn't actually kill his daughter, the language of the text is such that we see it is a grave, serious mistake in judgment and values).
Shimshon lacks even what Yiftach had. Yiftach led the people, but Shimshon never seems to have had the Jewish people's interests in mind at all, even as he went about saving them. Chosen by God before his birth to be a Nazir, it seems God would have high hopes for Shimshon. Yet Shimshon has an eye for Philistine women (and is the first recorded example of a son to whom his parents say "Aren't there any nice Jewish girls you can marry instead?") and kills Philistines not because they are oppressing the Jews, but to get revenge for 1) figuring out his riddle, and 2) marrying off his first wife to another man after he had rejected her, and 3) for gouging out his eyes.
He turns to God, but it is always to avenge his own honor. Shimshon, though the favorite of elementary school boys because of his physical strength and military might, is the nadir of the Shoftim. We would never really be aware that he served as a leader except for a summary pasuk stating that he did (I don't have a Tanach in front of me, but I recall such a pasuk).
I'm not trying to "bash" our ancestors, to "diminish" our holy Tzadikim and point out their flaws. We have many holy ancestors (though only God is perfect), many of them in Tanach. But it seems that Yiftach and Shimshon are counter-examples, and part of a particular downward spiral.
Chazal certainly saw them on a lower level. In affirming that we must always be bound to the leadership of our time, even if our leaders are inferior to leaders of previous generations, the Talmud states: "Yiftach b'doro k'Shmuel b'doro", "Yiftach in his generation is like Shmuel in his generation". Yiftach was clearly an example of an inferior leader.
Of course, the monarchy, as we shall see in subsequent books of the Nevi'im, was not always successful either. But it at least offers the possibility of strong, righteous leadership, which the structure of the people in the period of Judges did not provide.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Thoughts on Parashat Vayechi, (almost) a decade later
I was just using an old flash drive to transfer a file from one computer to another when I stumbled across a series of outlines of old derashot and other such interesting documents. I found this one from nine (9!) years ago. I present it to you here cut and pasted, with no corrections. It's in pseudo-outline form, with some parts written out, and little attention to grammar. If you don't like it, more Navi thoughts are coming soon (hopefully tomorrow, covering Yiftach and Shimshon, and then another one covering the strange package which constitutes the last several chapters of Shoftim):
Parashat Vayechi 5763
I. Parashat Vayechi is paginated in an unusual way. No new paragraph between Vayigash and Vayechi as there are between almost every other two parshiot in the Torah. Rather Parashat Vayechi is written beginning on the very same line as the last words of Parashat Vayigash.
We call this type of parasha, where the space between parshiot is filled, a parasha setuma, a closed parasha.
II. Rashi, following Chazal, asks why this parasha is closed, written beginning on the same line as the previous parasha. One of the explanations he gives is that with the death of Ya’akov, related at the beginning of this parasha, the hardship of slavery began, and the eyes of Israel were closed (nistemu) because of the hardship of slavery.
a. The question that arises, of course, is that it isn’t until years later, after Yosef dies, after all the brothers die, that a new king arises over Egypt who enslaves the Jewish people. How, then, can our Rabbis say that slavery began with Ya’akov’s death?
III. I’d like to suggest one answer, which we discussed in our Wednesday night parasha class: That while the physical slavery didn’t begin until later, the spiritual slavery of the Jewish people began after Ya’akov’s death.
a. How can this be? What did our Rabbis mean when they referred to this spiritual slavery?
III. In answer, let me share with you a teshuva, a halachic opinion, of Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef, the former Sefardic Chief Rabbi of Israel. Question asked of Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef—Can Jewish newspaper reporters go to Egypt to report on business and news there?
A. Problem: “V’lo yashiv et ha’am Mitzrayima.” Rav Ovadiah notes that Maimonedes codifies this prohibition, indicating that the Torah prohibits a Jew from living in the land of Egypt.
B. But, notes Rav Ovadiah, there’s a difficulty: Maimonedes lived in Egypt!
C. He cites a number of solutions: 1) That the prohibition of living in Egypt is only when the Jewish people lives in Israel, not in the diaspora. 2) That the parts of Egypt that Jews lived in were not within the boundaries of Egypt that are defined by the Torah. 3) That the prohibition exists to prevent the Jewish people from intermingling with and learning from the Egyptians, and the people living in Egypt today, due to historical conquests and the transfer of peoples by the Babylonians, are not the Egyptians who are the reason that Jews are prohibited from living in Egypt.
All of these answers have problems with them. The answer that Rav Ovadiah seems to accept, however, is that the prohibition of living in Egypt is a prohibition against settling down there with the intention to stay, to become attached to, and entrenched in, Egypt. Visits for business purposes, for example, are totally permissible. The Rambam’s visit was also for refuge, and it was a visit made long for various reasons. But it is prohibited to go to the land of Egypt to settle down, to become permanently entrenched in and attached to Egypt.
IV. So let’s go back to our original question: Our Rabbis explain that our Parasha begins on the same line as last week’s parasha, it is a “closed” parasha, because the eyes of the Jewish people were closed by the spiritual slavery that began immediately after Ya’akov’s death. We asked, what is the nature of this spiritual slavery?
The prohibition against living in Egypt obviously did not apply to Joseph and his brothers, who lived long before the Torah’s prohibition to their descendants. But Rav Ovadiah’s explanation—that whether going to Egypt is allowed or prohibited depends on our intentions in going there--may be shed light on the spiritual slavery of our forebears.
Yosef was forced into Egypt through circumstance. Ya’akov and his other sons came down to flee the ravages of famine, and to be with Yosef while he had to be there. They went to visit, compelled by some temporary purpose. Who can blame them for that? No problem.
But by the time Ya’akov died, the famine was over.
When Yosef and his brothers brought their father back to Israel for burial, they did not have to go back to Egypt. There may have been no prohibition to live in Egypt, but surely they should have stayed in the land which God had promised to their forefathers!
Yet, even in the absence of an urgent need to do so, they did go back to Egypt. They turned their backs on the land of Israel and went back to Egypt where it was comfortable. They turned their backs on Israel and went to a place where they had power and prestige. They traded in God’s gifts for the seductive allure of material power and comfort.
They traded in God’s gifts for the seductive allure of material power and comfort. And while it is clear that the Torah teaches that there is nothing wrong with enjoying comfort or with wielding power, it is abundantly clear that spiritual slavery is achieved when one makes the wrong moral and religious choices because of the attraction of the material world.
So when Ya’akov died, his children took him back to Israel. And when the last shovelful of earth fell onto his grave, they were drawn back to the accomodations of Egypt like a moth to the flame, already shackled in spiritual slavery.
Let us discipline ourselves to learn from their mistake and choose instead to embrace spiritual freedom, that is, the strength of character and spirit to choose morals over comfort, values over desire, holiness over ambition, and God over the attractions world.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Central Goal of Sefer Shoftim
I have heard various shiurim, and would tend to agree with the following idea: That one of the central prophetic goals of Sefer Shoftim is to demonstrate the importance of having a strong, centralized leadership of the people--- i.e. a monarchy.
For example, take Chapter 3---which is like a summary chapter of the dynamic of "sin, get subjugated by the surrounding nations, call out to God, get saved by a Judge, follow God for the rest of the Judge's life, and then sin again after he/she dies." From Chapter 3 we see that there was no consistent leadership that bound all of the tribes of Israel together. In between Shoftim, there was no centralized leadership, and the people would turn away from God, and the cycle would begin again.
The end of the book-- the horrible example of Pilegesh b'Givah comes to mind--- emphasizes this tendency "ish kol hayashar b'einav"---there was no King in Israel, each person did what was right in his own eyes.
So on one important level, Sefer Shoftim is a record of the failure of the Jewish people to serve God properly without a monarchy to serve as a centralized political and religious leadership.
For example, take Chapter 3---which is like a summary chapter of the dynamic of "sin, get subjugated by the surrounding nations, call out to God, get saved by a Judge, follow God for the rest of the Judge's life, and then sin again after he/she dies." From Chapter 3 we see that there was no consistent leadership that bound all of the tribes of Israel together. In between Shoftim, there was no centralized leadership, and the people would turn away from God, and the cycle would begin again.
The end of the book-- the horrible example of Pilegesh b'Givah comes to mind--- emphasizes this tendency "ish kol hayashar b'einav"---there was no King in Israel, each person did what was right in his own eyes.
So on one important level, Sefer Shoftim is a record of the failure of the Jewish people to serve God properly without a monarchy to serve as a centralized political and religious leadership.
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