25.8.06

Parashat Shofetim

Amidst the warning against copying the pagan practices of divination and superstition and the order to listen to our nation’s prophets comes a most bizarre command: Tamim Tihiyeh Im Hashem Elokechah. Moshe Rabbeinu tells us to be whole in our partnership with Hashem. What does this peculiarly vague pasuk mean? Rashi offers an explanation:

Walk with [Hashem] in wholeness and look towards Him, and don’t investigate matters pertaining to the future; rather, anything that comes upon you accept with wholeness. And then you shall be with [Hashem] and part of His portion.

Rashi, Devarim 18:13

Not only does Rashi’s interpretation fail to insert much meaning in the pasuk – he still has not explained to us how our “wholeness” connects to and furthers our relationship with Hashem – but nothing could be further from the truth! Take the story of Shaul and his father’s donkeys, for instance. Shaul travels all across his Shevet’s land in search for his father’s donkeys, and he eventually gives up hope of ever finding them. His servant, however, suggests that he asks a local Navi for help; perhaps the Navi can tell him where his father’s donkeys ran away to. And Shaul takes this lad’s advice. What ever happened to accepting whatever fate Hashem brings your way? What happened to not trying to control one’s future fate or fortune through spiritual intervention?

On one hand, Hashem provides a Navi for us; as Rashi points out, the reason we may not listen to Mi’onenim, diviners, is because Hashem has appointed Klal Yisrael with Navi’im instead. On the other hand, Hashem warns us not to rely on divination altogether. How?

More to the point, we know there is nothing wrong with being a Navi, but then is there anything wrong with being a Mi’onein? The pasukim send mixed messages. Rashi claims that Goyim may listen to Mi’onenim – though we may not – because they do not have Navi’im as we do. This implies that there’s nothing inherently wrong with Mi’onenim; one simply cannot consult them once they have been replaced by Navi’im. But didn’t Hashem just say two pasukim eariler that the Goyim are kicked out of Eretz Yisrael because they had Mi’onenim and practiced divination?! Then there is something inherently wrong about divination.

Before we can address the root of these contradictions, perhaps we should ask ourselves what difference exists between Mi’onenim and Navi’im. What makes Navi’im more acceptable in Hashem’s eyes, especially if both seem to undermine Tamim Tihiyeh Im Hashem Elokechah.

The Navi, at first glance, seems to act for our nation in the Mi’onein’s stead; perhaps we first should question the Navi’s ability to sufficiently replace the Mi’onein. The Navi can only offer a response when Hashem relays a message to him, but the diviner knows no such limitations. Rashi seems well aware of this fact. The pasuk says we will always have a Navi MiKirbechah Kamoni, a Navi from within your midst like [Moshe]; Rashi, pointing out the explicit comparison between the Navi and Moshe, explains that what they share in common is that they are MiKirbechah, that they are Jewish. But the Navi is otherwise not like Moshe; whereas Moshe was able to communicate with HaKadosh Baruch Hu at whatever time he pleased, the future Navi’im are in fact held to a severe limitation.

Perhaps, we could speculate, the very quality of the Navi is that he cannot control whether his customer receives an answer or not. In the case of the Mi’onein, one is guaranteed an answer, guaranteed a prediction of his future or fate, thus remove all reliance upon G-d. However, the Navi cannot always communicate with Hashem, and so there are still times that one must be acceptant of his fate and leave without a prediction.

We now see that there is nothing inherently wrong with inquiring about one’s fate or future. Am Yisrael would always consult the Urim ViTumim before going to battle, but a response was never a guarantee. If a Kohein Gadol did not receive a response, he could actually stand to be replaced in favor of a more qualified Kohein (in hopes of evoking a response from the Urim ViTumim). Shaul too was correct to consult a Navi as to the whereabouts of his father’s donkey. If Hashem truly wanted him to find the donkeys, then Hashem would provide the Navi with the appropriate insight. But if Hashem did not wish Shaul to find the donkeys, then Hashem could simply withhold the information.

Perhaps we can distinguish between being a Mi’onein and listening to Mi’onenim. The Goyim are only kicked out of Eretz Yisrael because they practiced divination; the acts themselves are repulsive to HaKadosh Baruch Hu, but only as a repulsive means, not ends. The actual investigation into one’s future is by no means looked down upon, so long as performed in a respectable manner, to the exclusion of human skulls and armpits for instance.

But for us, the Jews, Navi’im replace Mi’onenim. In other words, the presence of the Navi serves as a clear indication of Hashem’s desire to connect to us. The presence of the Navi removes our right to investigate into our fates without Hashem’s permission. Such is the very idea of Tamim Tihiyeh Im Hashem Elokechah. The Mitzvah no longer seemingly interrupts the Dinim of the Navi and Mi’onein, but rather serves as the contrast between the two paradigms, the shift on our relationship with Hashem that forbids one former of diviner as we are granted access to the other.

Looking back at Rashi’s words, we are told not only to “walk with Hashem in wholeness” but also to “look towards Him.” What does Rashi mean Titzapeh Bo? One might think the very idea of walking with Hashem in wholeness is to not look towards Him, to never ask for intervention, and to never demand an answer or explanation. But Rashi teaches us exactly the opposite; we are supposed to pray to Hashem, to beg for his intervention, and demand answers and explanations. The Navi is the medium by which we establish this otherwise impossible communication. The Navi allows for even the most mundane matters of life, like finding a herd of lost animals, to warrant communication with G-d, the act of “Titzapeh Bo” and the constant fulfillment of Tamim Tihiyeh Im Hashem Elokechah.

18.8.06

Parashat Re'aih

For many a traditional Jewish family, the climax of the Seder Shel Pesach comes with the uplifting chant Dayeinu. We recount all the marvelous favors Hashem granted us as we departed from Mitzrayim, wandered through the Midbar, and eventually reached Eretz Yisrael. Each gift is in fact so gracious that we proclaim, Dayeinu, it would have been enough, presumably enough to have sufficient reason to thank Hashem.

Of course, for many a traditional Jewish family, the chanting of Dayeinu is a celebration of a different sort, the highly anticipated transition from the monotone of Sippur Yitzeas Mitzrayim to the fun and interactive palatal experience of the Yitzeah. Ironically, all the while, we chant, “...and had not fed us the Man, it would have been enough.” We may wonder, was it truly enough to bring us to a desert and not provide us with the bare essentials? For what then are we truly grateful? The questions on the Dayeinu are virtually endless, but invariably overlooked in the frenetic rush to wash up and eat.

Those questions will have to wait. But in the meantime, perhaps we can infer from this limited list of fifteen kindnesses that anything else granted from Hashem upon our exodus did not exclusively warrant thankfulness. For instance, the first thing we thank Hashem for is taking us out of Mitzrayim. What if Hashem had only redeemed us, what if He freed us from Paroh’s slavery and made us His slaves instead, but never removed us from the land itself? Apparently, it would not “have been enough for us.”

The Sifri somehow suggests otherwise, based on the following pasuk:

“And this Navi or the dreamer of this dream shall be put to death, for he has spoken a wayward remark on Hashem your G-d Who has taken you from the land of Mitzrayim and redeemed you from the house of your slavery…”

Devarim, 13:6

Included within the concept of Yitzeah is the notion of Pidyon, for the removal of one nation from amongst another expresses Hashem’s acquisition and resulting authority over those people removed. Why then does the pasuk need to single out the act of Pidyon, ViHaPodichah Meieretz Mitzrayim, if it is already alluded to in the pasuk? Rashi, quoting the Sifri, answers that Hashem mentions His Pidyon exclusive of any other action to teach us that the Navi Sheker’s trap should have been avoided, even if Hashem had never taken us from Mitzrayim but had only acquired us as His servants. In other words, if the Navi Sheker tells us to go worship Avoda Zara, we should refuse because we are Hashem’s servants.

Such a concept squarely contradicts our inference from the Dayeinu. Do we or do we not owe a certain gratitude to HaKadosh Baruch Hu exclusively for His Pidyon in Mitzrayim? Furthermore, the Dayienu only suggests that we be thankful for Yitzeas Mitzrayim, but never that we actually keep Mitzvos; yet here, the Sifri seems to expect our fulfillment of the Lo Sa’asei of Avoda Zara long before Mattan Torah, even before Yitzeas Mitzrayim, regardless of whether we experience the Gevuros of Hashem or not!

At first glance, the pasuk seems no different than any other warning against Avoda Zara, but there must be something different about this warning, as indicated by the new term, Sarah.

“Sarah, a wayward remark.” [It is a noun,] something removed from the world, that never existed, nor was ever created, nor did [Hashem] ever command [the false prophet] to speak.

Rashi, Devarim 13:6

Until now, we have never regarded Avoda Zara as a Sarah, a removed object of sorts, and for good reason. The term “remove” implies that something once was and now no longer is. As Rashi explains, Avoda Zara never existed, nor was ever created, which is why we term it Zara, foreign, and not Sarah, removed, in the first place!

The Sforno provides a useful hint towards deciphering Rashi’s seemingly contradictory definition. The Sforno questions why this parasha appears altogether if the Torah’s immediately thereafter tells us anyone who attempts to draw us towards Avoda Zara must be put to death. He answers that these pasukim teach us a chidush. One might think the Navi Sheker avoids the severe capital punishment because he at least speaks in G-d’s name; nonetheless, because he speaks a Sarah about Hashem, he is put to death. In other words, the Sarah spoken is not one relating to the act of Avoda Zara, but rather relating to the notion that Hashem would tell us to worship Avoda Zara.

Rashi now makes sense. Avoda Zara never existed and was never created, and therefore Hashem never commanded it. So when the Navi Sheker performs a miracle and claims in G-d’s name that we should worship another entity, he is turning the words of G-d off their path, redirecting G-d’s Torah from its original source and into the nonexistent.

With this understanding we can also understand how we are bound – by the rules of logic – to the Mitzvah of Navi Sheker without ever having received the Torah. If Hashem redeems us from Mitzrayim, makes us His possession, then regardless of whether He ever leads us out of Mitzrayim, regardless of whether we ever owe Him our gratitude, we can be certain that He has not acquired us for some other god’s gain. Granted, if a Navi Sheker arrives, performs a miracle, and tells us, “I am a messenger from the great Ba’al, which has destroyed Hashem! You are now all subjects of Ba’al and must worship it,” we would have no logical reason not to believe him. Just because Hashem was stronger than Paroh would not prove that Ba’al isn’t stronger than Hashem. But if the Navi, in Hashem’s name, tells us to worship Ba’al, we would consider the Navi crazy! Why in the world would Hashem go through the trouble of redeeming us just to turn us over to some other god?!

The repercussions of the Navi Sheker may prove a bigger chiddush than those of the Meisis U’Medi’ach, but they still establish the foundation of our alligience to HaKadosh Barush Hu. These laws therefore act as the introduction to the expunging of wayward Jews. Though our allegiance to G-d may now be rooted in our acceptance of the Torah and in return for the miraculous favors performed along the journey there – Dayeinu – we must also never forget how Hashem first acquired us, as a conscious and rational awareness of our true Master.

11.8.06

Parashat Eikev

As Moshe Rabbeinu nears his end, he repeatedly urges the nation to keep the Torah and Mitzvos on a holistic level. The narrative of Sefer Devarim – especially in the early parashiot – shifts from the compartmentalized approach to Mitzvos and focuses instead on the Bris, the general relationship we maintain with HaKadosh Baruch Hu through these Mitzvos. It would seem out of place to compartmentalize or categorize any Mitzvos within this context, and yet that is exactly what Rashi does to the opening words of our parasha.

ViHaya Eikev Tishmi’un – “And it will be” if the small Mitzvos that one generally tramples with his heel “you listen to…”

Rashi, Devarim 7:12

Clearly bothered by the pasuk’s diction, Rashi – quoting the Medrash Tanchuma – offers a rather unexpected definition for the word Eikev. Instead of it meaning “as a result of,” as it does in many other appearances in the Torah (like “Eikev Asher Shama Avraham BiKoli,” Beraishis 26:5), Rashi treats it as a literal reference to one’s heel, the Akeiv. The Ramban, bewildered by Rashi’s literal interpretation of the Medrash’s message, points to the conditional nature of the pasuk and questions how Rashi could understand the pasuk as a Tannai without translating the word “Eikev” as “Im,” if.

Rashi’s defense of the Ramban’s challenge is quite obvious, for within his Peirush, the word “Im” is explicitly included. It appears Rashi felt the “if” clause of the pasuk was implicit, whereas the term Eikev served as an object, and not a preposition. But why? Where does the need for such a convoluted read of the pasuk derive? Wouldn’t the simple understanding still fall as the Ramban sees it?

The Levush HaOrah deftly defends Rashi’s position, for this alternative translation of Eikev not only serves as a viable interpretation, but also resolves a seeming contradiction. Last week’s parasha ended with the command to keep the Mitzvos HaYom, today. The gemara in Eiruvin and Avoda Zara both teach that the seemingly superfluous HaYom La’Asosam comes to teach us when we earn our Schar, as opposed to the time we receive that Schar, namely Olam Haba. This pasuk therefore implies that we don’t receive Schar for Shmiras Mitzvos until we reach Olam Haba, yet the rewards described at the outset of our parasha are clearly of a worldly nature. We are guaranteed fertility, healthy flocks, and robust fields!

To resolve this contradiction, Rashi isolates certain Mitzvos for which the Schar is awarded in this world. Because these smaller Mitzvos – the ones commonly trampled by our heels – have less Schar attached to them, we wouldn’t mind “wasting” their returns on worldly pleasures, but the pricier rewards of the more involved Mitzvos are stored away for the World to Come. Therefore, Eikev Tishmi’un Es HaMishpatim HaEileh must refer to a specific category of Mitzvah – not all the Mitzvos – and the term Eikev must be used in order to define this category.

The Levush HaOrah’s answer is a start, but it doesn’t fully justify the term Eikev. Eikev does not connote smallness, but rather insignificance; it paints a very clear image of neglect. However, we do not know the Schar of each and every Mitzvah, nor are we capable of projecting their respective values. There is no Mitzvah more costly, more difficult to perform, than Kibud Av, and no Mitzvah easier than Shilu’ach HaKan, and yet both offer long life as their reward. The Torah thus teaches us that we can never measure a Mitzvah’s Schar by how significant that Mitzvah appears in our eyes. How then can we project the significance of a Mitzvah?

Granted, the term Eikev can refer to the Mitzvah’s significance in Hashem’s eyes, but then the term Eikev would have to refer directly to the category of Mitzvah – not to the human heel – and the pasuk wouldn’t read smoothly. The pasuk explicitly states the words “Es HaMishpatim HaEileh;” to avoid a superfluity, the pasuk can only be understood as “if your heel will watch over these Mitzvos,” and not “if you watch over these heel-type Mitzvos.”

I believe that Rashi’s comments are motivated by an alternative difficulty in our parasha, a problem that emerges a few pasukim later. The pasuk, detailing our worldly rewards for keeping those “heel-type Mitzvos,” states, “…and you will devour the neighboring nations. Do not have pity on them and do not worship idols, for this will be a trap for you.” To say that idol worship serves as a “trap” implies that things are going well and later about-face on us because of our improper actions. But if we are Oveid Avodah Zara, then we are already not fulfilling Hashem’s requirements. That’s not called a trap, that’s simply a transgression!

It seems that the simple reading of this pasuk must instead be “You shall devour all neighboring nations. Do not have pity on them, lest you worship their idols, and the pity you have taken on them will prove to have been a trap for you.” This makes plenty more sense, since having pity on the Goyim does not yet violate the Mitzvos, but will soon lead to a violation, namely Avoda Zara; that indeed is a Mokeish.

Notably, the pasuk deviates from the normal language of chasing away. The pasuk says to devour the nations. “Devouring a nation” implies that they still live amongst us, as opposed to chasing them out. The obvious question is that we are not supposed to share the land with nations when we are perfect, so why doesn’t the pasuk tell us to chase them out?

The first Rashi on the parasha may in fact be coming to answer this very question. A quick glance at our pasukim would suggest that Hashem asks us to keep all the mitzvos, but Rashi notes that these are instead the rewards are for keeping only some of the Mitzvos, the Mitzvos Kalos. The idea behind the Mitzvos Kalos is to recognize how serious every commandment Hashem gave us is; even if we can’t bring ourselves to fulfill that which is difficult (i.e. those requiring lots of money), as long as we maintain the proper serious perspective on our relationship with Hashem, we will be treated well.

But the Goyim will, in such times, live in our land and we won’t chase them out. In the time of the Shofetim, the people were alternately good and bad, but even in the good times when the Jews prospered, the Goyim lived in the land. The only thing that changed between good and bad times was balance of power, who the ruler was and who collected the taxes. The pasuk here tells us in said “good times,” ViAchalta es Kol Ha’Amaim, we will rule and collect from them, and the biggest mistake we can make in such a time is to take the danger of their presence lightly, because the moment we begin to act casually, we stop performing every Mitzvah Kala with the proper fervor and passion. Then the problems start. Next thing we know, we’ll be worshiping idols.

ViHaya Eikev Tishmi’um Es HaMishpatim HaEileh, and if your heel will watch over these Mitzvos [Kalos], then we shall rule the Goyim. When times are only “good” and not perfect, we must remain wary of even our slightest steps. Such care will warrant our mandate over the Goyim, and such control will enable us to further our fulfillment of Hashem’s Mitzvos, eventually earning us the spiritual rewards alluded to in the earlier parasha, the rewards stored away in the World to Come.