Parashat Devarim

It’s interesting to note how Chodesh Av progresses in a sort of backwards nature to it, for the crux of the month lies in the tragedy stricken nine days, the first days of the month. Instead of mourning over the Churban HaBayis after the Beis HaMikdash was burnt down and the nation entered Galus, we choose to sit Aveilus in anticipation of the looming doom. I believe it is safe to say that the Aveilus we sit for these nine days does not commemorate the loss of our Beis HaMikdash, but rather the cause for this loss, the events that preceded the ultimate destruction. But why this is so remains to be seen.

Chazal say that the cause of Churban Bayis Sheni, the event that spurred us into our current exile is none other than Sinas Chinam, the baseless hatred of one Jew against another.

Lo Sisna Es Achicha BiLvavecha. Hochai’ach Tochee’ach Es Amisecha ViLo Sisa Alav Cheit

Do not hate your brother in your heart. Reprove your nation, and do not accept upon them iniquity. (by Onkelos’s translation, Rashi takes a slightly different approach)

VaYikra 19:17

At first glance, it seems a stretch to suggest that this hatred is what brings the foundations of our world to crumble, but, as the Kli Yakar so sagaciously suggests, the connection of this pasuk’s two Mitzvos bears a strong message about the dire crime that is Sinas Chinam.

And since the pasuk states “and do not accept upon him iniquity,” it is apparent that if one who does not reprove his friend will carry the sins of that supposed friend. This is because “Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh LaZeh,” all Jews are cosigners for one another, so that if one [Jew] cannot fully pay for his sins, [Hashem] can take the remainder payment from his cosigners, [the Jewish nation]. Jews are made each other’s cosigners at the time when one has the ability to protest [another’s] sin and does not; he then takes full responsibility for the other’s ultimate outcome…

And it is juxtaposed to the Mitzvah of “Lo Sisna Es Achicha BiLvavecha,” for when love spreads over Yisrael, each wants what’s best for his friend and therefore rebukes him, so that his friend does not stumble over [an Aveirah]. But when Jews hate one another, nobody rebukes, for each man is content with his friend’s downfall.

This Midah [of hatred] has been the predominant trait of our nation since the destruction of Bayis Sheni. To this day, it has not budged, and the Nega will fester and spread until Hashem cannot stand it any longer and will remove the stony hearts from our midst.

Kli Yakar, VaYikra 19:17

BiMiheirah BiYameinu. These are some of the most powerful and pertinent words one can find in a Mikra’os Gedolos, and they turn our very concept of Sinas Chinam upside down. By the Kli Yakar’s claim, the hate Jews express towards one another stems from widespread acceptance of one another, from a lack of protest. It is the individual who rebukes and chastises his nation who is considered the loving and caring one! The Beis HaMikdash is not destroyed because of Sinas Chinam alone, but rather because of all our Aveiros. However, none of these other Aveiros are avoided because our Sinas Chinam prevents us from aiding one another to Teshuva.

It therefore comes as no surprise that Parashat Devarim, which we invariably read on Shabbat Chazon, opens with this very message of Tochacha. From the very first pasuk, Rashi notes how every word is disguised as a geographic location, but is in truth a reference to a sin of Klal Yisrael’s. We mention the Midbar because they complained for meat in the Midbar. We mention Arvos Moav since that’s where they worshiped Ba’al Pe’or. Mol Suf references their two sins at the Yam. Paran was the location of Cheit HaMiraglim, Tofel ViLavan references the Man they whined about. Chatzeiros is where Korach rebelled, and lastly, Di Zahav alludes to the gold used in Cheit HaEigel.

The rebuke only gets more explicit from there. There is, however, one small caveat to Moshe’s Hochacha; it comes right before his death. Rashi, quoting the Sifri, says we learn from here to only give Hochacha from one’s deathbed. The Sifri gives four reasons: so as not to accidentally rebuke the individual twice for the same thing; so that the two not meet again, and cause the rebuked individual embarrassment; so that the two can depart on peaceful terms; and so that the one rebuked does not bear a grudge – it’s much harder to hate a person on his deathbed.

At first glance, it seems virtually impossible to resolve this Rashi with the comments of the Kli Yakar. How could one possibly be held responsible for chastising his brethren if he can only do so from his deathbed? The Kli Yakar obviously requires one to rebuke while in good health, whereas the Sifri warns against such an approach.

The Sifri is troubling on numerous fronts. Bear in mind that this is not the first time Moshe Rabbeinu admonished the nation. For instance – one of many many examples – there was that time just a week or two ago, in Parashat Mattos, where Moshe accused the Bnei Reuvein ViGad of being Tarbus Anashim Risha’im. So how could the Sifri claim Moshe waited until his death to reprove the nation?

Rashi himself advocates the Kli Yakar’s approach and only ten pasukim after quoting this Sifri!

VaAsimeim, and I will place [judges as leaders over the nation]. [The term VaAsimeim bears a striking similarity to Asham, guilt, suggesting that] the guilt of Yisrael hangs on the heads of its judges, for [these judges] had the ability to protest and redirect [the nation] onto the right path.

Rashi, Devarim 1:13

So the judges are required to correct the wrongdoers, and not only Karov LiMisa! The question really speaks for itself. How can we resolve the clear and present contradiction between Rashi’s two Ha’arahs?

It seems to me that there is really no contradiction at all, but we must first differentiate between the resolution of interpersonal relationships, and the resolution of one’s relationship with G-d. The role these judges play within the protest of their nation’s sins is one based off a hierarchy. The judges are appointed because of their superior Torah knowledge; therefore, the rebuke they offer is grounded in their greater knowledge of what Hashem desires.

However, the Hochacha one gives from his deathbed bears no such established hierarchy, no such stern “I’m right and you’re wrong” approach. Instead, it becomes an emotional plea for resolution and reconstitution. If we look closely at Moshe’s words in our parasha, we find a striking difference between the admonishment of old, and these closing remarks:

And Hashem heard the voice of your words, and angered, and swore, “None of the men of this generation will see the land I promised to their forefathers!...” And Hashem became incensed with he, on account of you, saying, “You too shall not come [to Eretz Yisrael]!”

Devarim 1:35-37

Moshe actually blames Klal Yisrael for Hashem’s refusal to let him into Eretz Yisrael! Surely Moshe is frustrated, but this accusation can’t just be dismissed as an exaggeration. His words must hold some truth. If we want to identify the source of this accusation, we must trace our steps back to the source of this very dissent, where Moshe first inserts himself into his Hochacha:

How can I alone carry all your trouble, burdens, and quarrels?

Devarim 1:12

Burdens. This teaches that the nation disdained their scholars, for if Moshe left court early, they would say “Why did Ben Amram leave early? Maybe he is having marital issues.” And if Moshe left late, they would say, “Why hasn’t Ben Amram left yet? He must be busy plotting against us.”

Rashi, Devarim 1:12

Of course, this is the pasuk that begins with the word “How,” Eicha, and we read it to the tune of Megilas Eicha. But this pasuk is more than just one complaint out of a dozen others. Here Moshe rebukes the people for not letting him rebuke them! They become judgmental of him, thus impeding his ability to set them straight. It is here that Moshe loses the ability to reprove at any stage of his life, for the reasons listed in the Sifri, and so this becomes the opening remark of his Tochacha. And this becomes the pasuk associated with Eicha and Churban, for our inabilities to rebuke and correct are what inevitably – albeit passively – bring about our nation’s corruption. Not the Cheit HaEigel, and not the Cheit HaMiraglim.

When one man sins to [you], do not hate him and hold back… rather, it is a Mitzvah to acknowledge and say to him “Why have you done this to me, why have to sinned to me in this way?” As the pasuk says, “Hochai’ach Tochee’ach Es Amisecha.”

One who sees another sin or head in a wrong path must return him to good and let him know that he has sinned against himself. One who rebukes his brother, whether over a sin between man and fellow, or a sin between man and G-d, must rebuke him between man and himself.

Rambam, Misha Torah, Hilchos Dayos 6:6-7

At the heart of true Hochacha lies the interpersonal relationship between two caring individuals. One says to the other, “it pains me to see you act in such a way, and I wish it would pain you too.” Obviously the goal of this rebuke is to return the sinner to the proper path, but the method of rebuke, in a sense, is as important as this goal. Hashem does not respond to every Aveirah with a lightning bolt, for part Teshuva’s value is to accomplish Ge’ula as a nation.

This interpersonal process begins with Moshe’s words in our parasha, but the parasha also references this process’s first major setback, the appointment of judges, the men who could only protest on the basis of hierarchy. The arduous road to Ge’ula is marred with persecution and pogroms, inquisition and exile, but our most daunting obstacle is each other. And until we can learn to deal with our differences, and to care for one another in a meaningful and constructive fashion, we will continue to mourn over the Sinas Chinam that preceded Churban HaBayis for the nine days that precede Tisha B’Av.

Parashat Masei

The Abarbanel offers a fascinating explanation regarding why a man who murders accidentally must wait for the Kohein Gadol to die before he can leave his Ir Miklat. The reason that the murderer hides in the city is to keep safe from the Go’el HaDam, the vengeful relative of the murderer’s victim. The death of the Kohein Gadol is such a shocking event to the nation that the Go’el would come to reconsider his emotions, calm down, and no longer seek his revenge, leaving the Rotzei’ach free to go home.

The Abarbanel’s explanation is far from convincing. Though we may never have experienced the loss of a Kohein Gadol, it seems a stretch to say that his death would have such an effect on a Go’el HaDam. It is difficult to accept that the Go’el’s impersonal emotional connection to the Kohein Gadol is even as strong as the connection to his own relative, let alone stronger.

In fact, one could even argue that the Kohein Gadol’s death should have the opposite effect on the Go’el’s emotions. Rashi says that the Kohein Gadol’s presence draws the Shchinah to the nation and promotes life, while the killer removes the Shchina and moves people closer to death. It wouldn’t be proper for the two to coexist, and therefore the killer is banished until after the Kohein Gadol’s death. Rashi seems to imply, from the fact that the killer moves the nation closer to death, that he plays a small role in the death of the Kohein Gadol. If this is so, then shouldn’t one feel more ire towards the Rotzei’ach for having caused two deaths? Should one feel sorry for this man and let him live?!

But there is a much more basic difficulty with this Abarbanel. The Abarbanel seems to root the motive of the Go’el HaDam simply in his emotions. His emotions spur him to seek revenge, and the abrupt change of emotion halts his plans. But a Go’el HaDam, contrary to popular belief, does not kill out of revenge! He kills LeSheim Shamayim. The gemara in Makos (12a) discusses whether it may be a Mitzvah for the Go’el to kill the murderer. It may even be a Reshus for everyone else to kill him (Reshus, the gemara implies, does not just mean it’s Muttar BiDiAvad.)

The strongest disproof that revenge is what motivates a Go’el comes from a gemara in Sanhedrin (45b), The gemara says that if the victim leaves behind no Go’el, Beis din will appoint a Go’el to chase the Rotzei’ach. Clearly this third party, this appointed avenger, can’t be seeking revenge like a relative would, yet the same halachos apply to him. The same rule – that he must go home when the Kohein Gadol dies – still applies. So from where does the Go’el summon his anger if not from revenge?

Let’s take a closer look at Rashi. Rashi explains that the Rotzei’ach’s banishment lasts as long as the Kohein Gadol’s life because the two cannot coexist. The Rotzei’ach stands for those things that bring people toward Gehenom, and is therefore the nemesis of the Kohein Gadol, who represents that which draws us closer to Shamayim. This explanation seems to fall short for two simple reasons. Once the Kohein Gadol dies, another Kohein Gadol assumes the position, and the killer has another nemesis. Why should it matter that the Kohein Gadol was in power at the time of the sentencing of this murderer? More to the point, the Mishna in Makos also learns that the Rotzei’ach only goes free upon the death of a properly anointed Kohein Gadol. If the Kohein Gadol had not been anointed properly, or if there there was no Kohein Gadol at all – if there was nobody who stood for the things Rashi says a Kohein Gadol represents – one would assume based on Rashi’s logic that there would be no reason for the Rotzei’ach to live in the Ir Miklat, and there would be no reason for him to wait for a proper time to leave. Yet under such circumstances, the Halacha dictates that one must live and remain in the Ir Miklat, contrary to Rashi’s logic?

It seems to me that the Abarbanel actually comes to answer these questions that Rashi’s pshat faces. Only a properly anointed Kohein Gadol can have an effect of such great magnitudes on the people, and therefore the Abarbanel decides to approach the Rotzei’ach’s freedom from the viewpoint that one’s emotions are altered. But where does emotion play a role in the role of the Go’el?

Rashi talks about how the murderer and Kohein Gadol fall on opposite sides of the spectrum. There is good reason for the entire nation to love their Kohein Gadol because of what he does for them; likewise, it would seem within reason for one to hate a Go’el because of his contribution to the masses. Whether one is the dead man’s relative or simply an appointee, one can certainly recognize the detriment the killer causes to society, and therefore has a Mitzvah to do away with him.

To a Go’el, it seems only proper that the just consequence of murder should be death. It seems only appropriate that the man who draws the nation further from Hashem and shortens their days should bear a shortening of his own days. But if such thoughts were true, then the Kohein Gadol would surely be deserving of long life. And yet even the Kohein Gadol can die, and this reality is what shocks the nation. The Go’el coes to reconsider whether the Rotzei’ach deserves a shorter life, for death does not deserve death, and bloodshed can never truly be solved with more bloodshed.

In truth what one does in one’s lifetime does not so clearly affect the death he incurs (aside from when the Torah explicitly tells us otherwise, of course). The Midrash Rabbah tells over this lesson with examples in the form of some historical examples:

Rabbi Shimon opened [his drasha with a pasuk from Koheles (9:3)]: “HaKol Ka’Asher LaKol, Mikreh Echad,” All things come alike to all [people].

“LaTzadik ViLaRasha,” to the Tzadik, Noach, who when he left his Teivah was mangled by the lion, and to the Rashah, Paroh Necho, who when he attempted to sit on Shlomo HaMelech’s throne was mangled by a lion, and both died lame.

“LaTov ViLaTahor ViLatamei,” to the Tov, Moshe (as the pasuk says, “and she saw for he was ‘Tov’), to the Tahor, Aharon, who dealt with the Tahara of Klal Yisrael, and the Tamei, the Miraglim. These [first two] spoke good of Eretz Yisrael, and these spoke bad, and yet none were permitted into the land.

“LaZovei’ach ViLaAsher Einenu Zovei’ach,” [referring to] Yoshiyahu and Achav respectively. The first brought many Korbanos, while the second cancelled the offerings; yet both were killed by a barrage of arrows.

“KaTov KaChotei,” the good and the sinner, Dovid HaMelech and Nevuchadnetzar. One “built” the Beis HaMikdash, and one destroyed it; yet both ruled a full 40 years.

“HaNishbah, Ka’Asher Shvu’a Yarei,” Tzidkiyahu and Shimshon HaNazir. (The Eitz Yoseif explains that Tzidkiyahu took oaths lightly, and therefore broke his promise to Nevuchadnetzar, whereas Shimshon was only suspicious the Bnei Yehuda would harm him until they swore (Shofetim 15:12)). This one died with his eyes gouged out, and that one died with his eyes gouged out.

VaYikra Rabbah 20:1

This Midrash, somewhat unexpectedly, is the opening remark of Parashat Acharei Mos; somehow, it must connect to the deaths of Nadav and Avihu. Rabbi Shimon proceeds to explain that both the Bnei Aharon and Korach’s assembly suffered similar fates. The first pair sought to draw the nation closer to Hashem, while the other steered them far away (although under a sneaky façade), yet both were burned alive for offering Ketores. And so we clearly see that the reward of the Kohein Gadol does not necessarily manifest itself within this world, nor does the punishment of the accidental killer. The Go’el HaDam learns this most valuable lesson and heads back home, leaving the killer free to exit his Ir Miklat

Parashat Pinchas

The gemara in Kedushin (66b) asks how we know that a Kohein with a mum is Pasul for Avodah. (Rashi notes that although we have a clear pasuk in Emor that pasuls a Kohein Ba’al Mum, a drasha is required to pasul his work even BiDiAvad, after the Kohein has performed the Avodah.) The drasha comes from this week’s parasha. When Hashem offers Pinchas His Bris Kehunas Olam, Hashem introduces it as the “Bris Shalom.” Shmuel, quoted by Rav Yehuda, identifies this as a Bris for those who are ‘Shaleim,’ without blemish, and therefore a Kohein Ba’al Mum is pasul, even BiDiAvad. The gemara asks: but the pasuk says Shalom, not Shaleim? Rav Nachman answers that the Vav in the word Shalom is K’tiya, or ‘broken;’ therefore, the word can be read as ‘Shaleim’ as well, and Rav Yehuda’s drasha stands.

Some have the minhag to write the Vav with a horizontal break in the middle. The Maharsha says that one should not write the letter broken, but rather write the Vav small, so it appears as a Yud almost. The Ritva questions this: “Had the gemara intended a small Vav, it would have called it a Vav Ze’ira.” But this halachic discussion falls outside the scope of this medium, though it is important to note that this gemara is taken very seriously. Many Soferim are accustomed to actually write this letter with a full break across the middle, an act that would render the Sefer Torah pasul if done to any other letter! This Vav is truly unique, as is the storyline of Pinchas’s vengeance.

The drasha itself is also unique, in the sense that it is oxymoronic. After all, we learn out the need for Shleimus, wholeness, from the only letter in the Torah that is not whole! What is the logical basis for this drasha? Wouldn’t it be more sensible to interpret the break as the indication of a lack of Shleimus? Indeed, we find there to be a lack of Shalom within Klal Yisrael immediately after the event.

Pinchas Ben Elazar Ben Aharon HaKohein [why mention his lineage here?]

Since the Shvatim were ridiculing [Pinchas, saying] “Look at this Ben Puti (descendant of Yisro), whose grandfather fattened cows for idol worship, and now he has the gall to kill a Jewish prince?!” Therefore, the pasuk comes to trace his lineage to Aharon instead.

Rashi, BaMidbar 25:11

As Rashi indicates, the Shvatim – and not even just Shevet Shimon – were at Pinchas’s throat for his seemingly brash and heinous act. One can imagine that Hashem’s response, Pinchas Ben Elazar Ben Aharon, could greater justify his actions, but it’s unlikely that a recount of Pinchas’s lineage would sufficiently appease the incensed nation.

This leads us to another question. If Pinchas only achieved a Shalom between Hashem and the nation – namely that Hashem would not destroy them all – then why was he awarded with Kehuna? The Kehuna more strongly reflects the good tidings between 1) the Kohein and the people and 2) Hashem and the Kohein. Since the Kohein must serve as the intermediary between Hashem and the people, there is no Shalom achieved between these two groups without the first two criteria.

Perhaps these questions derive from a much more basic misunderstanding of these pasukim, namely the source of the Shvatim’s dissent for Pinchas. Rashi describes how the Shvatim ridiculed Pinchas because of his dubious lineage. The fact that he came from an idol worshiper weakened his authority to handle others’ iniquities within the realm of Avoda Zara. As the Mizrachi explains, one would normally expect a man’s ancestry to follow a paternal line, but the nation pointed out the shortcomings of his mother’s family, for he was most probably raised by his mother, and she was raised in Yisro’s house. Thus the ideology of Avoda Zara was innate within Pinchas.

The terrible problem with the Mizrachi’s reasoning, however, is that Yisro converted and no longer fattened cows to Avoda Zara. In that case, the house that Pinchas was raised in was one that blatantly rejected Avoda Zara, not one that embraced it! Even Aharon’s family can’t claim such a feat. If anyone’s ideology taught the explicit and adamant rejection of Avoda Zara, it was Yisro’s!

And yet, even Hashem credits Klal Yisrael’s snide, reminding them of Pinchas’s link to Aharon HaKohein. Shouldn’t Hashem simply remind the Shvatim who Yisro was?

But there is one thing we must consider about Yisro’s rejection of Avoda Zara and embrace of Yahadus. Yisro, when he first joins the camp, exclaims “Atta Yadati Ki Gadol Hashem MiKol HaElohim,” now I know that Hashem is greater than all the [other] gods.” Rashi explains that Yisro could compare Hashem to all the other gods because he had tried every form of Avoda Zara there was, and none interested him as much as Judaism. We therefore see that Yisro did not reject Avoda Zara because he felt it was objectively wrong, but rather because it did not interest him. His devotion to Hashem, therefore, was one of subjective value.

When the Shvatim point their fingers at the zealous Ben Puti, they question whether his zeal is truly LiSheim Shamayim, for the family that raised him deplored Avoda Zara on the basis that it was violable and base, not because it was Assur or objectively wrong. If such were the motive behind Pinchas’s actions, the Shvatim would have a strong claim, for what right would Pinchas have to oppose Zimri’s actions? Zimri too is entitled to a subjective stance, and if he likes Avoda Zara more than Avodas Hashem, then he should he be permitted to practice such. By linking Pinchas to his other grandfather, Aharon, the pasuk reveals the Lishma intent behind Pinchas’s action, the very fact that Avoda Zara was objectively wrong in Pinchas’s eyes.

And so with Hashem’s response in the opening of our parasha, the widespread dissent towards Pinchas does not only subside, but is transformed into appreciation. Pinchas proved willing to risk his life for Hashem’s sake, and for the nation’s sake, not for his own sake. Such is the role of the ideal Kohein, the man who establishes a relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu through a life led LiSheim Shamayim, the man who establishes a relationship with his nation through their recognition of his selfless concern for them.

It may be true that the Shalom between Kohein and nation was temporarily broken, but ultimately, peace was restored, and in a much stronger form. The strength of a friendship, the strength of peace, can only be measured after it has been tested. If two sides go to war and yet they resolve their differences without just ignoring or downplaying the problems in their past, true peace is formed. That peace is then lasting, and so Pinchas’s Bris Shalom is a Bris Kehuna that lasts Olam. What better letter than the broken Vav to learn out the halachos of Shleimus!

During these days of mourning, the Three Weeks, the lesson of the broken Vav takes on great meaning. The relationship that Klal Yisroel has shared with Hashem has been tested many a time. In the days of the Shoftim, we went rotten and Hashem enslaved us to our bordering nations. We repented and Hashem came back to us. We went bad again and Hashem ignored us again. And so on the cycle went; the casual tie we shared with our Creator was tested again and again in casual fashion.

After the Churban HaBayis, in these past two thousand years of Galus, we have truly been tested, as has been our commitment to Torah, Mitzvos, and a life LiSheim Shamayim. If there was ever a chance for our relationship to fully slip away, these past millennia have certainly been the time. When the Three Weeks come around, we shouldn’t only reflect on how bitter our past has been, or the present may be. We should understand the great potential in our grueling trials, the reward of everlasting and enduring peace formed through only the most rigorous of tests. May we be Zocheh to this ‘Shaleim’ Shalom, and may the K’tiya that ultimately brings this Shleimus come to its completion BiMiheirah BiYameinu Amein.