Parashat Re'aih

“Watch yourselves, lest you join with [the other nations] after you have kicked them out [of Eretz Yisrael], and lest you seek their gods, saying “how is it that they worshiped their gods? I will do the same.” Don’t do this to Hashem, your G-d, for Hashem hates all the abominations that they performed to their gods, for they would also burn their sons and daughters to their gods."
Devarim, 12:30-31

There are two ways of understanding these pasukim. Either the statement “Eichah Ya’avdu HaGoyim Ha’Eileh Es Eloheihem” is one of appall and disgust, or it is one of curiosity and openness. Either one can look at the practices of the Goyim with a feeling of bewilderment, not understanding how anyone in their right mind could worship a god by, say, throwing stones or defecating on it. Or one can look at the conquest of Eretz Yisrael and the utter exile of its former inhabitants and wonder what they could have possibly done to anger Hashem to such an extent.

There are also two ways to understand the beginning of pasuk 31, Lo Sa’aseh Kain LaHashem Elokechah. Rashi considers this an Azharah against worshiping idols through practices foreign to Judaism. The pasuk in Mishpatim says Zovei’ach Leilohim Yachoram Bilti LaHashem Livado, one who slaughters to idols should be destroyed, Zevichah is exclusively for Hashem. From this pasuk we learn that any Avoda done for Hashem is a standard form of Avoda, and therefore if it is done to anything other than Hashem, we consider it Avoda Zara. But from where do we know that an Avoda not done to Hashem can also fall under the prohibition of Avoda Zara? Rashi answers that these pasukim are the very source.

The Ramban takes issue with Rashi’s reading of the pasukim, for pasuk 31 would therefore unnecessarily specify that this Aveirah is done LaHashem Elokechah. What Aveirah isn’t done against Hashem?! The Ramban therefore considers these pasukim no more than a warning against the adoption of pagan practices in our Avodas Hashem. The Ramban’s view is also supported by the continuation of these pasukim, which order us not to alter Hashem’s Mitzvos, Lo Sosaif ViLo Sigra. How then could Rashi expect the Torah to establish a law against Avoda Zara if the context of these pasukim is the laws of Avodas Hashem?

Perhaps there is a more pressing question to be asked here, one that rests on both Rashi and the Ramban. If one recognizes that the Goyim were kicked out of Eretz Yisrael for performing these forms of Avoda Zara, why would we ever be interested in joining in their practices? Isn’t it clear that these Avodos anger Hashem? Yet the pasuk clearly says that he will come to say “ViE’eseh Gam Ani!” Even more so, if one is disgusted by things like Avodas Ba’al Pe’or or Markolis, why would he ever decide to worship them?!

The Ramban answers this question with ease. He explicitly explains pasuk 30 as a form of inquiry instead of exclamation. We investigate what Avodos the Goyim did to their Avodah Zara and assume that they were punished because those Avodos were intended Bilti LaHashem Livado as well. We therefore mistakenly say “E’eseh Gam Anochi,” assuming that Hashem desires us to worship Him as the Goyim worshiped their Avoda Zara, and so the pasuk here comes to warn against such assuptions.

But this answer cannot possibly work for Rashi. While the Ramban describes Lo Sa’aseh Kain as an Azhara against benign – though bizarre – forms of Avoda (in constrast to burning ones children alive), Rashi emphasizes things like Pe’or, which one would never mistaken as ways that Hashem desires us to worship Him. How then does Rashi understand the inconsistent reactions, Eichah Ya’avdu and ViE’eseh Gam Ani?

This past Thursday, I shared an interesting conversation with a drunken homeless black guy in the 116^th street subway station while waiting for my train to arrive. The man was pacing back and forth, cheerily trying to talk to whomever crossed his way, but nobody would pay any attention. Desperate for attention, he surveyed the crowd for a moment, and spotted me. He announced at the top of his lungs to the wholeform, “You know what’s the baddest cap of ‘em all? The baddest cap… the baddest cap of ‘em all…” paused, and then pointed in my direction from no more than a few feet away, “...is that yarmulke.” A little unsettled, and a little unsure what to do, I decided walking away would not only mean missing my train, but would probably prompt him to chase after me and continue his rant, so I proudly but quietly nodded and smiled back. And he took this as an invitation for a chat. He walked up to me rather slowly, and whispered, “and I respec’ that. I respec’ that cuz’ you know what that [yarmulke] stands for? It means you gotta lotta pride fo’ who you are. Who in their right mind would ever wear that thing on their head, know what I’m sayin’, unless they were proud of who they are.

I nodded, and softly responded, “I hear. I hear.” He continued, “but ya know, at lot of people died cuz’ a that,” pointing at the kippa again, “a lot good people died cuz’ a that pride, you know. So you gotta say shalom. I mean, you gotta say shalom. If someone says shalom to you, you can’t be better than them and not say shalom, but’cha gotta say shalom.” We shared a little more chat time, exchanged some high fives, and he even poked me in the chest a little – something about “havin’ a lotta heart.”

I normally don’t quote black homeless guys in the subway as parshanim, but I think this one couldn’t have said over pshat in these two pasukim any clearer. When we look at the Gilulei Avodas Kochavm, like excreting on Ba’al Pe’or or throwing stones at a Markolis, we are initially disgusted and appalled. We say “how can these people do such crazy things in the name of their religion?! How can they call these disgusting acts forms of worship?!” But over time, we come to admire their Avoda, not because it looks rational, but because we admire the pride they show. They haven’t the slightest embarrassment to defecate in public, and it’s all in the name of Ba’al Pe’or, and we think to ourselves, “there must really be something about this Ba’al Pe’or if they’d be willing to do that in the name if Avoda!” We begin with the recognition that the Goyim have the “baddest rituals of ‘em all,” and we come to that same level of respect when we recognize how much pride goes into these rituals.

It is for this reason Rashi highlights bizarre Avodos like Pe’or and Markolis, falling in line with the pasukim’s own example of burning children alive. But what about the continuation of these pasukim? How does this Azhara fit within the context of Lo Sosaif ViLo Sigra?

For the answer, I again turn to my favorite commentary, the homeless guy. Remember, pride can earn one a lot of respect, but it can also lend one an air of arrogance. Many people died, the homeless guy observed, because they didn’t say shalom, they thought they were above the rest of society, separated by the obscure rituals they performed. You gotta say shalom out of recognition that the crazy things you do or wear do not separate you from the rest of society. Weird practices are not exclusive to the Jew, and plenty of Goyim practice even more bizarre rituals than we. If one takes pride in his religiosity because of the seeming irrationality of the mitzvos he performs, then the pasuk warns that he will surely be drawn to the Goyim’s practices, for they are even more irrational than ours. But if he takes pride in Yiddishkeit because it is his connection to HaKadosh Baruch Hu, and he takes pride in his rational mitzvos as much as he does in his irrational mitzvos, then he will surely not falter.

Therefore, the pasukim continue, Es Kol HaDavar Asher Anochi Mitzaveh Eschem Tishmiru La’Asos. Rashi asks what does Kol HaDavar refer to? Which thing would we not keep? Quoting the Sifri, Rashi answers that this teaches us Kalah KiChamurah, that the pasuk doesn’t remind us to keep all the mitzvos, but rather to keep all the mitzvos equally. Perhaps it would improve our Avoda to have five parashiot in our Tefilin, perhaps it would increase the pride we have in our Avoda to say another pasuk of Birchas Kohanim. Hashem warns us that our perception of what we get out of His Mitzvos is worth nothing. Instead, we should keep them all simply because we were instructed to, and such an Avoda promises to both further us from the Gilulei Avodas Kochavim and bring us to as close a Kesher as we can possibly attain with our Maker.