Today's Parsha is a difficult one. How can we ever understand the actions of Aaron in building the golden calf to appease the people? How can we understand such abstractions as God's face? God's back? There is so much to talk about in Parsha Ki Tissa but given the very short time slot I have to say something meaningful to you, I am going to talk about keeping Kosher.
It all started right here in Parsha Ki Tissa with the direct order from God - DO NOT BOIL THE KID IN ITS MOTHERS MILK.
What an odd idea. This one sentence has sparked more commentary than probably any other in all of the Torah.
So where did this idea come from? Back in the time of the Torah, it was a common practice of the Caananites to literally boil a baby lamb in its mothers milk and provide that milk to their gods to make them fertile. This Pagan ritual was disgusting to God and so he forbade the Israelites from doing it. This single prohibition fostered the law of separation of milk and meat.
So how do we get from the specific, "Do not boil a kid in its mother's milk" to the much more general, "do not mix milk and meat"? As Rabbi Gunther Plaut wrote in his UAHC Torah Commentary, "Rabbinic Judaism developed the command into the cornerstone of dietary law and saw it as a prohibition of eating milk and meat products together - a meaning entirely extraneous to the text." So let's look first at what the Torah text might really mean, and then try and figure out how the Rabbinic Sages understood it.
Often it is maintained that the laws of Kashrut are maintained for health or hygienic reasons. But, as Maimonides and others clearly point out, Jews do not keep kosher for health reasons (if that was the case, then modern refrigeration and cooking technics would invalidate most of these laws) but rather we keep kosher because God has asked it of us. The dietary laws, as presented in Torah, are considered to be Chukim, mitzvot whose purpose is not clear to humans (as opposed to Mishpatim, whose meaning is clear and self-evident).
But we can speculate, as many have done. Since God makes it clear in the Torah that we are to avoid the practises of the idolatrous peoples and maintain ourselves as a distinct nation, many assume that the Chukim, and particularly the laws of Kashrut, exist to counteract certain idolatrous rituals. While this sacrificial practice may have ceased, the item is still on the menu today. On a Mediterranean cooking web site, I came across a recipe from Syria/Lebanon called "Lamb Cooked In Its Mother's Milk." Oy. I don't think this is a coincidence. Obviously the practice existed, or the Torah would have no reason to prohibit it.
Other reasons were also suggested for this prohibition. Ibn Ezra connects the law against boiling a kid in its mother's milk with the Torah's injunction against slaughtering a cow and her offspring on the same day (Leviticus 22:28) and the edict not to take a mother bird from the nest along with her eggs (Deuteronomy 22:6-7). For Ibn Ezra, it was clear that all three of these mitzvot draw their inspiration from a single idea: to kill a mother and its offspring at the same time reflects a lack of sensitivity to life that is inexcusable.
So, if you must seek a rationale for the Torah's disdain for Lamb and Milk stew, then either of these reasons is as good as the other: the Torah seeks to distance Israel from a practise that was common among the idolatrous peoples, and/or, the Torah was emphasizing the sanctity of life and denigrating those who devalue life by destroying mothers along with their children.
But how then did the Rabbis get from "not boiling a kid in its mother's milk" to "no mixing dairy with meat"? Well, this is a classic case of "fence around the Torah," the halakhic device by which mitzvot, as recorded in the Torah, are expanded, sometimes to a great extent, to help Jews avoid inadvertently breaking a law. Basically, the rabbis were concerned about the possibility of confusion. Milk all looks the same, no matter what the source, and most red meat looks similar. How can you ever be sure that the milk you are using to boil the kid did not come from its mother? You can't. So we avoid mixing all milk and meat. And if we develop too much of a taste for other kinds of meat, especially lamb, cooked in milk or served with dairy, then how can we be sure we will draw the line when it comes to kid cooked in its mothers milk? By extending the law against boiling a kid in its mother's milk to a law prohibiting all meat with diary, the rabbis sought to avoid accidents that might result in a transgression against God's law, and help us develop disciplines that will prevent sin. The Rabbis started with a specific law, but, in the spirit of that law, they developed it into an entire way of life.
That's one way of looking at it. But here's another. Everything we do as Jews is meant to imbue the ordinary with holiness - from the simple act of eating to the appreciation of a rainbow to the respect we show to the dead - every aspect of Jewish life is subject to the idea of "added-value", to coin a modern marketing term. We add value to our lives by making the ordinary, extraordinary. We separate Shabbat from the other 6 days of the week and we make it special, we make it holy. We separate life from death, clean and unclean, holy and profane. We separate milk and meat to make ourselves aware that even the simple, animal act of eating can be imbued with holiness. And maybe, by referring back to the order to not boil the kid in its mothers milk, we are expressing a beautiful reverence for the very special relationship that exists between a mother and her child. Each time we refrain from eating a cheese burger or swilling a milk shake with a corned beef sandwich we are bringing honour and holiness to that very special relationship.
Holiness means to hallow our lives - and it is a way that we separate ourselves from the other nations. One of the primary functions of kashrut is to distinguish us from others, to separate us from the nations, to preserve us amidst the maelstroms of history. Jews are a small nation scattered amongst the peoples. How can we be prevented from being swallowed up and assimilated in the course of the years. Kashrut helps us to separate, to distinguish ourselves and to preserve us; to remind us three times a day who we are and what God chose us to stand for. When we honour the simple act of eating by keeping kosher, we say "yes" to the glory and grandeur of Jewish tradition and we show the courage to say "no" to the world with all of its allurements and seductions, with all of its captivating call to conformity.
It takes work to be a Jew. It isn't easy. And sometimes we slide and back pedal and struggle with the responsibilities our ancestors accepted for us a Sinai. We are Israel and Israel means to struggle. Kashrut demands sacrifice, self-discipline and determination - but what that is really worthwhile in life does not? It demands the courage to turn our face against the powerful current of conformity that almost overcomes us daily, not only against the gentile world, but against the majority of the Jewish world! Is this not what the prophet Isaiah spoke of when he sang of a saving remnant of Israel? Throughout our long history - from Egypt to Palestine to Babylonia to Spain to Germany to America and ultimately to Israel, it has always been that loyal "remnant" not the entire people which has been faithful to our task and preserved our heritage from generation to generation. Kashrut is a uniquely jewish way to add holiness to our lives every single day. It is a way we can hallow a simple, animalistic act into something beautiful and meaningful. And in so doing further our mission to be a light unto the nations. Shabbat Shalom.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Vayishlach
Our Parsha today is one of the most significant in all of Torah. THE STORY OF JACOB’S WRESTLING MATCH WITH AN UNNAMED ADVERSARY ALONE AT NIGHT is surely one of the most dramatic of events. With whom was Jacob wrestling? The text itself calls him “a man.” According to the prophet Hosea, it was an angel. For the sages, it was the guardian angel of Esau. Jacob himself had no doubt. It was G-d. He called the place of the encounter Peniel, “because I saw G-d face to face, and yet my life was spared.” The adversary himself implies as much when he gives Jacob the name Israel, “because you have struggled with G-d and with man and have overcome.”
The passage resists easy interpretation, yet it holds the key to understanding Jewish identity. It is not we, the readers, who give it this significance but the Torah itself. For it was then, as dawn was about to break, that Jacob acquired the name that his descendants would bear throughout eternity. The people of the covenant are not the children of Abraham or Isaac but “the children of Israel.”
I discovered a very enlightening thing about this parsha when I studied a teaching from Rabbi Jonathon Sachs (Chief Rabbi of London). According to him, one thing stands out about the first phase in Jacob’s life. He longs to be Esau – more specifically, he desires to occupy Esau’s place. He struggles with him in the womb. He is born holding on to Esau’s heel (this is what gives him the name Jacob , “heel-grasper”). He buys Esau’s birthright. He dresses in Esau’s clothes. He takes Esau’s blessing. When the blind Isaac asks him who he is, he replies, “I am Esau, your firstborn.”
Why? The answer seems clear. Esau is everything Jacob is not. He is the firstborn. He emerges from the womb red and covered in hair (Esau means “fully made”). He is strong, full of energy, a skilled hunter, “a man of the fields.” More importantly, he has his father’s love. Esau is homo naturalis , a man of nature. He knows that homo homini lupus est , “man is wolf to man.” He has the strength and skill to fight and win in the Darwinian struggle to survive and the Hobbesian war of “all against all.” These are his natural battle-grounds and he relishes the contest.
Esau is the archetypal hero of a hundred myths and legends of the ancient world (and of action movies today). He is not without dignity, nor does he lack human feelings. His love for his father Isaac is genuine and touching. The midrash, for sound educational reasons, turned Esau into a bad man. The Torah itself is altogether more subtle and profound. Esau is not a bad man; he is a natural man.
It is not surprising that Jacob’s first desire was to be like him. That is the face he first saw in the mirror of his imagination, the face he presented to the blind Isaac when he came to take the blessing. But the face was not the face of Jacob , any more than were the hands.
Nor was the blessing he took the one that was destined for him. The true blessing was the one he received later when Isaac knew he was blessing Jacob , not thinking him to be Esau.
Jacob’s blessing had nothing to do with wealth or power. It had to do with children and a land – children he would instruct in the ways of the covenant and a land in which his descendants would strive to construct a covenantal society based on justice and compassion, law and love. To receive that blessing Jacob did not have to dress in Esau’s clothes. Instead he had to be himself, not a man of nature but a person whose ears were attuned to a voice beyond nature, the call of the Author of all to be true to that which cannot be bought by wealth or controlled by power, namely, the human spirit as the breath of G-d and human dignity as the image of G-d.
It should now be clear exactly what Jacob was doing when he met Esau twenty-two years later. He was giving back the blessing he had taken all those years before . The herds and flocks he sent to Esau represented wealth (“the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth”). The sevenfold bowing and calling himself “your servant” and Esau “my lord” represented power (“Be lord over your brothers, and may the sons of your mother bow down to you”). Jacob no longer wanted or needed these things (“I have everything” – meaning, “I no longer need either wealth or power to be complete”). He is explicit. He says, “Please take (not just “my gift” but also) “my blessing.” He now knows the blessing he took from Esau was never meant for him, and he is returning it.
It is equally clear what was transacted in the wrestling match the previous night. It was Jacob’s inner battle with existential truth. Who was he? The man who longed to be Esau? Or the man called to a different destiny? “I will not let you go until you bless me,” he says to his adversary. The unnamed stranger responds in a way that defies expectation. He does not give Jacob a conventional blessing (You will be rich, or strong, or safe). Nor does he promise Jacob a life free of conflict. The name Jacob signified struggle; the name Israel also signified struggle. But the terms of the conflict have been reversed.
It is as if the man said to him, “In the past, you struggled to be Esau. In the future you will struggle not to be Esau but to be yourself. In the past you held on to Esau’s heel. In the future you will hold on to God. You will not let go of Him; He will not let go of You. Now let go of Esau so that you can be free to hold on to God.”
The next day, Jacob did so. He let go of Esau by giving him back his blessing. And though Jacob had now renounced both wealth and power, and though he still limped from encounter the night before, the passage ends with the words, Vayavo Yaakov shalem , “And Jacob emerged complete.” That is the stunning truth at which Jacob finally arrived, and to which the name Israel is testimony. To be complete we do not need Esau’s blessings of wealth and power. Ours is another face, an alternative destiny, a different blessing. The face we bear is the image we see reflected in the face of God when we wrestle with Him and refuse to let go.
Not by accident was this episode the birth of our identity as Israel. At almost every significant juncture in our history we have wrestled with civilizations who worshipped the gods of nature, wealth or power . Israel never knew the wealth of ancient Greece or Rome, Renaissance Italy or aristocratic France. It never knew the power of great empires, their invincible armies and weapons of destruction. When it longed for these things (as in the days of Solomon) it lost its way.
Israel’s strength never lay in itself but in that which was other and greater than itself: the power that transcends all earthly powers, and the wealth that is not physical but spiritual, a matter of mind and heart. Jews have often wished to be someone else, the Esaus of the age.
That is a feeling we must ultimately reject. The Torah does not ask us to think badly of Esau. On the contrary, it commands us: “Do not hate an Edomite [ie, a descendant of Esau], for he is your brother.” It did however ask us to wrestle, as did Jacob, alone, at night, in the depths of our soul, and discover the face, the name and the blessing that is ours. Before Jacob could be at peace with Esau he had to learn that he was not Esau but Israel – he who wrestles with God and never lets go.
Shabbat Shalom.
The passage resists easy interpretation, yet it holds the key to understanding Jewish identity. It is not we, the readers, who give it this significance but the Torah itself. For it was then, as dawn was about to break, that Jacob acquired the name that his descendants would bear throughout eternity. The people of the covenant are not the children of Abraham or Isaac but “the children of Israel.”
I discovered a very enlightening thing about this parsha when I studied a teaching from Rabbi Jonathon Sachs (Chief Rabbi of London). According to him, one thing stands out about the first phase in Jacob’s life. He longs to be Esau – more specifically, he desires to occupy Esau’s place. He struggles with him in the womb. He is born holding on to Esau’s heel (this is what gives him the name Jacob , “heel-grasper”). He buys Esau’s birthright. He dresses in Esau’s clothes. He takes Esau’s blessing. When the blind Isaac asks him who he is, he replies, “I am Esau, your firstborn.”
Why? The answer seems clear. Esau is everything Jacob is not. He is the firstborn. He emerges from the womb red and covered in hair (Esau means “fully made”). He is strong, full of energy, a skilled hunter, “a man of the fields.” More importantly, he has his father’s love. Esau is homo naturalis , a man of nature. He knows that homo homini lupus est , “man is wolf to man.” He has the strength and skill to fight and win in the Darwinian struggle to survive and the Hobbesian war of “all against all.” These are his natural battle-grounds and he relishes the contest.
Esau is the archetypal hero of a hundred myths and legends of the ancient world (and of action movies today). He is not without dignity, nor does he lack human feelings. His love for his father Isaac is genuine and touching. The midrash, for sound educational reasons, turned Esau into a bad man. The Torah itself is altogether more subtle and profound. Esau is not a bad man; he is a natural man.
It is not surprising that Jacob’s first desire was to be like him. That is the face he first saw in the mirror of his imagination, the face he presented to the blind Isaac when he came to take the blessing. But the face was not the face of Jacob , any more than were the hands.
Nor was the blessing he took the one that was destined for him. The true blessing was the one he received later when Isaac knew he was blessing Jacob , not thinking him to be Esau.
Jacob’s blessing had nothing to do with wealth or power. It had to do with children and a land – children he would instruct in the ways of the covenant and a land in which his descendants would strive to construct a covenantal society based on justice and compassion, law and love. To receive that blessing Jacob did not have to dress in Esau’s clothes. Instead he had to be himself, not a man of nature but a person whose ears were attuned to a voice beyond nature, the call of the Author of all to be true to that which cannot be bought by wealth or controlled by power, namely, the human spirit as the breath of G-d and human dignity as the image of G-d.
It should now be clear exactly what Jacob was doing when he met Esau twenty-two years later. He was giving back the blessing he had taken all those years before . The herds and flocks he sent to Esau represented wealth (“the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth”). The sevenfold bowing and calling himself “your servant” and Esau “my lord” represented power (“Be lord over your brothers, and may the sons of your mother bow down to you”). Jacob no longer wanted or needed these things (“I have everything” – meaning, “I no longer need either wealth or power to be complete”). He is explicit. He says, “Please take (not just “my gift” but also) “my blessing.” He now knows the blessing he took from Esau was never meant for him, and he is returning it.
It is equally clear what was transacted in the wrestling match the previous night. It was Jacob’s inner battle with existential truth. Who was he? The man who longed to be Esau? Or the man called to a different destiny? “I will not let you go until you bless me,” he says to his adversary. The unnamed stranger responds in a way that defies expectation. He does not give Jacob a conventional blessing (You will be rich, or strong, or safe). Nor does he promise Jacob a life free of conflict. The name Jacob signified struggle; the name Israel also signified struggle. But the terms of the conflict have been reversed.
It is as if the man said to him, “In the past, you struggled to be Esau. In the future you will struggle not to be Esau but to be yourself. In the past you held on to Esau’s heel. In the future you will hold on to God. You will not let go of Him; He will not let go of You. Now let go of Esau so that you can be free to hold on to God.”
The next day, Jacob did so. He let go of Esau by giving him back his blessing. And though Jacob had now renounced both wealth and power, and though he still limped from encounter the night before, the passage ends with the words, Vayavo Yaakov shalem , “And Jacob emerged complete.” That is the stunning truth at which Jacob finally arrived, and to which the name Israel is testimony. To be complete we do not need Esau’s blessings of wealth and power. Ours is another face, an alternative destiny, a different blessing. The face we bear is the image we see reflected in the face of God when we wrestle with Him and refuse to let go.
Not by accident was this episode the birth of our identity as Israel. At almost every significant juncture in our history we have wrestled with civilizations who worshipped the gods of nature, wealth or power . Israel never knew the wealth of ancient Greece or Rome, Renaissance Italy or aristocratic France. It never knew the power of great empires, their invincible armies and weapons of destruction. When it longed for these things (as in the days of Solomon) it lost its way.
Israel’s strength never lay in itself but in that which was other and greater than itself: the power that transcends all earthly powers, and the wealth that is not physical but spiritual, a matter of mind and heart. Jews have often wished to be someone else, the Esaus of the age.
That is a feeling we must ultimately reject. The Torah does not ask us to think badly of Esau. On the contrary, it commands us: “Do not hate an Edomite [ie, a descendant of Esau], for he is your brother.” It did however ask us to wrestle, as did Jacob, alone, at night, in the depths of our soul, and discover the face, the name and the blessing that is ours. Before Jacob could be at peace with Esau he had to learn that he was not Esau but Israel – he who wrestles with God and never lets go.
Shabbat Shalom.
Metsorah
What is it that is so delicious about gossiping? Why, despite all of our good intentions, do we seem to end up talking bad about someone behind their back? And even when we feel guilty for doing so, we can’t seem to resist this temptation. Very few people have control over their inclination to speak with an evil tongue or lashon lara as it is called in the Torah.
So strong is the condemnation of gossip and slander in Jewish tradition that the founder of the chasidic movement, the great Baal Shem Tov, is said to have told his followers that the Kosher status of what comes out of one's mouth (i.e., one's words) is even more important than the Kosher status of what one puts into it.
According to a news story on ABC News, researchers studied gossipers from American middle schools to villages in Newfoundland and discovered that people can spend up to two-thirds of their conversational time gossiping — and men love it just as much as women.
Of all of the mitzvoth, this one – to refrain from lashon horah – is for most of us, the most difficult. Gossip is seductive, mesmerizing, interesting and titillating. It entertains us, it amuses us and it has a way of making us feel superior. But, according to our sages, both listening to and spreading gossip is one of the worst offenses we can commit. In fact, some say that the sin of gossip is as severe as idolatry, adultery, and murder, the three worst sins in the judgment of the rabbis. Gossip, like murder, kills. The Talmud asks, "Why is gossip like a three-pronged tongue? Because it kills three people: The person who says it, the person who listens to it, and the person about whom it is said". Far from being a harmless pastime, gossip and slander are truly dangerous practices and while it takes an incredible amount of control to overcome our urge to engage in lashon hora, we absolutely must make the effort.
At our Parsha of the Week group this past Wednesday, Cantor Edwards told a story that illustrates exactly how dangerous and evil lashon hora is. A man in a certain community didn’t like the Rabbi and he spread a terrible and false rumour that the Rabbi was having an affair with a married congregant. Naturally this rumour spread like wildfire. The Rabbi’s reputation (as well as the reputation of the congregant) was totally destroyed. The man who spread the rumour started to feel very guilty for what he had done. He went to the Rabbi and apologized to him, admitting that it was he who had started the rumour. He asked the Rabbi how he could make it up to him. The Rabbi told him to take a pillow, cut it open and shake out all of the feathers out the window and then return to the Rabbi when he was done. The man did so. The Rabbi then said to him, now, I want you to go and gather up all of those feathers – every single one and bring them back to me. The man looked at the Rabbi in horror – But Rabbi, he said – how can I do that – the feathers have been scattered throughout by the wind. I will never be able to gather them up. And that is the point, said the Rabbi, of lashon hora. Like feathers spread by the wind, evil words cannot be taken back. Once said, lashon hora cannot be reclaimed.
The Torah is full of malicious and unintentional lashon hara. Sarah speaks about Abraham's old age and laughs at the idea that her husband will father a child. (Genesis 18). Joseph brings false and evil reports about his brothers to his father Jacob. (Genesis 3). Miriam speaks against Moses for marrying a Cushite woman. (Numbers 12)
Every word that comes out of our mouth has the potential to hurt or destroy. Once I was waiting in line at a store when I noticed a young woman complaining loudly to a supervisor about the slow service of a particular clerk. In screaming for service, the woman had no intention of getting the clerk fired - she was simply frustrated and needed to vent. It was too late. The clerk lost his job and financial security. Perhaps the woman wanted to take her comments back, but she couldn't. Once you speak about someone to someone else, the damage has been done. Words - simple words - have the power to destroy businesses, reputations, and friendships.
A modern-day rabbi, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kahan (the Chafetz Chaim) has written extensively on the laws of lashon hara. His compilation "Guard Your Tongue" is a collection of the thirty-one Torah commandments dealing with lashon hara. Some of his profound insights include:
One may not make comments that cause pain, financial loss, or damage. One may not make derogatory comments, even if they are true. One may not defame the character of another. One may not say that another did wrong, has faulty traits, or lacks virtue. One may not say "so and so is my good friend or relative so I can say what I want." One must know if information is true before telling others. One may not exaggerate. One may not gossip and then say "just kidding."
So why do we do it? I did some research into the psychological aspects of lashon hara. Here are 6 general points I discovered about why people gossip.
1) They are angry. When people with bad tempers get excited, they often speak without thinking and say anything that comes to mind regardless of the consequences. 2) They are Jokers. People who tell jokes may tend to make fun of other people. 3) They are arrogant. There are those people who feel they are better than others. 4) They give up. Many people don't bother avoiding lashon hara because it is so difficult. 5) They are complainers. Some people complain about others.
6) They have bad friends. If your friends are doing it, there is a greater chance that you will partake.
Everyday, when we chant the silent Amidah, we add a prayer at the very end that says, “Oh Lord, Guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile.” All too often, the prayers that we say over and over become meaningless to us – they become more of a chant than a literal prayer. But I think we need this prayer in our lives. We need help to guard our tongues from evil. We need to invoke God’s help – we cannot do it alone. Like every problem we have, the first step is to acknowledge it – be aware of it. And the best way to be aware of it is to force ourselves to think of it.
So here’s a thought – why don’t we try to avoid lashon hora this afternoon. Just today – become aware of it, Stop yourself from gossiping, talking bad about someone, criticizing someone behind their back. Let’s try it from now until motze Shabbat tonight – and let’s see how we do. If you find yourself slipping back into the habit of gossiping or listening to gossip, say these words to yourself; “Oh Lord, Guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile”. Use prayer to help you. Stopping lashon hora cold turkey is difficult and might be self-defeating – but if we can refrain from it for a certain proscribed period of time, maybe we can increase the time incrementally until we are rid of this evil sin forever. So let’s try it for the remaining hours of Shabbat. Next Shabbat, let’s try it for the whole of Shabbat – from Friday night until motze Shabbat. And let us commit to increasing our lashon-hara-free hours more and more each week.
Remember that when God selected us to be his Chosen People, we took on the responsibility for being a holy people. Refraining from lashon-hora, brings holiness into our lives and helps us to perfect the world. We are God’s partners in creation. Let us do our share.
So strong is the condemnation of gossip and slander in Jewish tradition that the founder of the chasidic movement, the great Baal Shem Tov, is said to have told his followers that the Kosher status of what comes out of one's mouth (i.e., one's words) is even more important than the Kosher status of what one puts into it.
According to a news story on ABC News, researchers studied gossipers from American middle schools to villages in Newfoundland and discovered that people can spend up to two-thirds of their conversational time gossiping — and men love it just as much as women.
Of all of the mitzvoth, this one – to refrain from lashon horah – is for most of us, the most difficult. Gossip is seductive, mesmerizing, interesting and titillating. It entertains us, it amuses us and it has a way of making us feel superior. But, according to our sages, both listening to and spreading gossip is one of the worst offenses we can commit. In fact, some say that the sin of gossip is as severe as idolatry, adultery, and murder, the three worst sins in the judgment of the rabbis. Gossip, like murder, kills. The Talmud asks, "Why is gossip like a three-pronged tongue? Because it kills three people: The person who says it, the person who listens to it, and the person about whom it is said". Far from being a harmless pastime, gossip and slander are truly dangerous practices and while it takes an incredible amount of control to overcome our urge to engage in lashon hora, we absolutely must make the effort.
At our Parsha of the Week group this past Wednesday, Cantor Edwards told a story that illustrates exactly how dangerous and evil lashon hora is. A man in a certain community didn’t like the Rabbi and he spread a terrible and false rumour that the Rabbi was having an affair with a married congregant. Naturally this rumour spread like wildfire. The Rabbi’s reputation (as well as the reputation of the congregant) was totally destroyed. The man who spread the rumour started to feel very guilty for what he had done. He went to the Rabbi and apologized to him, admitting that it was he who had started the rumour. He asked the Rabbi how he could make it up to him. The Rabbi told him to take a pillow, cut it open and shake out all of the feathers out the window and then return to the Rabbi when he was done. The man did so. The Rabbi then said to him, now, I want you to go and gather up all of those feathers – every single one and bring them back to me. The man looked at the Rabbi in horror – But Rabbi, he said – how can I do that – the feathers have been scattered throughout by the wind. I will never be able to gather them up. And that is the point, said the Rabbi, of lashon hora. Like feathers spread by the wind, evil words cannot be taken back. Once said, lashon hora cannot be reclaimed.
The Torah is full of malicious and unintentional lashon hara. Sarah speaks about Abraham's old age and laughs at the idea that her husband will father a child. (Genesis 18). Joseph brings false and evil reports about his brothers to his father Jacob. (Genesis 3). Miriam speaks against Moses for marrying a Cushite woman. (Numbers 12)
Every word that comes out of our mouth has the potential to hurt or destroy. Once I was waiting in line at a store when I noticed a young woman complaining loudly to a supervisor about the slow service of a particular clerk. In screaming for service, the woman had no intention of getting the clerk fired - she was simply frustrated and needed to vent. It was too late. The clerk lost his job and financial security. Perhaps the woman wanted to take her comments back, but she couldn't. Once you speak about someone to someone else, the damage has been done. Words - simple words - have the power to destroy businesses, reputations, and friendships.
A modern-day rabbi, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kahan (the Chafetz Chaim) has written extensively on the laws of lashon hara. His compilation "Guard Your Tongue" is a collection of the thirty-one Torah commandments dealing with lashon hara. Some of his profound insights include:
One may not make comments that cause pain, financial loss, or damage. One may not make derogatory comments, even if they are true. One may not defame the character of another. One may not say that another did wrong, has faulty traits, or lacks virtue. One may not say "so and so is my good friend or relative so I can say what I want." One must know if information is true before telling others. One may not exaggerate. One may not gossip and then say "just kidding."
So why do we do it? I did some research into the psychological aspects of lashon hara. Here are 6 general points I discovered about why people gossip.
1) They are angry. When people with bad tempers get excited, they often speak without thinking and say anything that comes to mind regardless of the consequences. 2) They are Jokers. People who tell jokes may tend to make fun of other people. 3) They are arrogant. There are those people who feel they are better than others. 4) They give up. Many people don't bother avoiding lashon hara because it is so difficult. 5) They are complainers. Some people complain about others.
6) They have bad friends. If your friends are doing it, there is a greater chance that you will partake.
Everyday, when we chant the silent Amidah, we add a prayer at the very end that says, “Oh Lord, Guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile.” All too often, the prayers that we say over and over become meaningless to us – they become more of a chant than a literal prayer. But I think we need this prayer in our lives. We need help to guard our tongues from evil. We need to invoke God’s help – we cannot do it alone. Like every problem we have, the first step is to acknowledge it – be aware of it. And the best way to be aware of it is to force ourselves to think of it.
So here’s a thought – why don’t we try to avoid lashon hora this afternoon. Just today – become aware of it, Stop yourself from gossiping, talking bad about someone, criticizing someone behind their back. Let’s try it from now until motze Shabbat tonight – and let’s see how we do. If you find yourself slipping back into the habit of gossiping or listening to gossip, say these words to yourself; “Oh Lord, Guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile”. Use prayer to help you. Stopping lashon hora cold turkey is difficult and might be self-defeating – but if we can refrain from it for a certain proscribed period of time, maybe we can increase the time incrementally until we are rid of this evil sin forever. So let’s try it for the remaining hours of Shabbat. Next Shabbat, let’s try it for the whole of Shabbat – from Friday night until motze Shabbat. And let us commit to increasing our lashon-hara-free hours more and more each week.
Remember that when God selected us to be his Chosen People, we took on the responsibility for being a holy people. Refraining from lashon-hora, brings holiness into our lives and helps us to perfect the world. We are God’s partners in creation. Let us do our share.
Dry Bones
Picture it. You’re in a scorched desert valley. It’s hot, it’s dusty, it’s dry. The sun is beating down and your thirst is building. You are feeling faint, dizzy from the heat – you’re about to pass out when suddenly the sandy dust clears and you see that you are in a valley filled with thousands of bleached white bones, dry, powdery bones and human skulls.
Think it’s a mirage? A nightmare? A hallucination?
Well it could be any of those things – but for Ezekiel, it is a vision of prophetic proportions.
I’m going to talk about our Haftorah portion today – because it is such a fascinating one – and one that has inspired so much commentary.
Ezekiel lived 2600 years ago in what today is called Iraq and which was at that time called Babylon.
Babylon was the most modern and sophisticated city in Ezekiel’s world. The capital city of an international empire. An empire that crushed other nations. An empire that had swallowed up countries on every side. Including Ezekiel’s. It began with the invasion.
The Babylonians invaded Israel in 598 BCE. They destroyed the Holy Temple. And they killed every Israelite they could lay their hands on. Except for the ones they took back to Babylon to be slaves, including Ezekiel who was a priest in the Temple.
From Babylon, Ezekiel prophesied that the Jews would eventually return to their homeland.
Known for his passion, his flair for the dramatic and his extraordinary imaginative visions, Ezekiel’s story of the Valley of the Dry Bones was selected as Shabbat Chol Ha Moed Pesach's haftorah due to its parallel to Passover - our redemption from Egypt and the promise of being brought to the Promised Land.
The Talmud Bavli says that Ezekiel’s was a dream about a parable. The later Midrashim say it was a miracle that actually did occur. Since miracles are what our traditional teachings say Pesach is about, this is an additional theme as well in this Haftarah.
The Haftorah today begins with Ezekiel’s most famous vision - a vision in which he finds himself in a valley that is full of dry bones. God speaks to him and instructs him to prophesy to the bones to hear God's word so that God may breathe life into them and they may live again.
As we read just now,
"God...set me down in the valley, which was full of bones...they were very abundant... they were very dry...Oh dry bones, hear the word of the Lord: I will bring spirit into you and you shall live. I shall put sinews...and flesh...and skin over you. I open your graves and raise you from your graves...and I shall bring you to the Land of Israel."
Ezekiel's prophecy introduced the concept of resurrection which eventually became a cornerstone of Jewish belief. The Mishnah established resurrection as a religious principle as did Maimonides who included it among his Thirteen Articles of Faith. Even today, traditional prayer books include a prayer that speaks of God as one who "revives the dead" (mechayyeh ha-matim).
In rabbinic literature, the resurrection of the dry bones was played down by a number of rabbis. Rabbi Eliezer somewhat reduced the significance of Ezekiel's resurrection of the dry bones, pointing out that "the dead whom Ezekiel revived stood up, recited a song [of praise] and [immediately] died"(Sanh.92b).
Rabbi Judah apparently regarded the story as an allegorical vision; but other rabbis fully accepted the resurrection miracle.
Rabbi Gunther Plaut suggests that the vision should be seen as a metaphor - a preaching device used by all the prophets and especially by Ezekiel.
Other commentators agree that the vision was an allegory meant to impact upon Ezekiel and the people to whom he told the vision. The dry bones represent the despondent people, the graves represent the countries in which they are exiled. God promised "to open their graves" in response to the people's despair. They weren't actually dead. They were so traumatized by their losses that they were dead-like. By infusing them with God's spirit, they would have a resurrection-like experience.
Rabbi Sheldon Blank refers to Ezekiel's message as a metaphor of national resurrection. Not only would the people be reborn as a nation, but they would also have a spiritual reawakening. By sharing his vision with the despairing people living in exile in Babylon, Ezekiel was able to rekindle their belief in God and to give them hope that they would eventually return to the land of Israel to live again.
Many Jews believe that the creation of the State of Israel, which came about only three years after the end of the Shoah, represents the seeming fulfillment of Ezekiel's rather bizarre 2,600-year-old vision.
Do you ever wonder where the stories of the Prophets came from? Knowing their origins can help us understand their subtleties and their connection to our parshiot. The Book of Ezekiel was written for the captives of the tribe of Judah living in exile in Babylon following the Siege of Jerusalem of 597 BC. Up until that exile, their custom had been to worship God in the Temple in Jerusalem. Exile raised important theological questions. How, the Judeans asked, could they worship their God when they were now in a distant land? Was their God still available to them?
Ezekiel speaks to this problem. He first explains that the Judean exile is a punishment for disobedience and he then offers hope to the exiles, suggesting that the exile will be reversed once they return to God.
Unlike their ancestors, who were enslaved and socially marginalized while in exile in Egypt, the Jews of Ezekiel's time were able to become part of the society they found themselves in. They kept their belief in God intact, but they assimilated into Babylonian culture, often being called upon by the Babylonians to complete projects using their skills as artisans. Unlike other enemies, the Babylonians allowed the Jewish people to settle in small groups. While keeping their religious and national identities, many Jews settled comfortably into their new environment.
This growing comfort in Babylon helps to explain why so many Jews decided not to return to their land. Many people would have been born in exile and would know nothing of their old land, so when the opportunity came for them to reclaim the land that was taken from them, many decided not to leave the Babylonian land they knew. This large group of people who decided to stay are known to be the oldest of the Jewish diaspora communities along with the Jews of Persia.
So there you have it - a little about the history of Ezekiel – and about The Valley of the Dry Bones. I wish you all a continued warm and kosher Pesach and Shabbat Shalom!
Think it’s a mirage? A nightmare? A hallucination?
Well it could be any of those things – but for Ezekiel, it is a vision of prophetic proportions.
I’m going to talk about our Haftorah portion today – because it is such a fascinating one – and one that has inspired so much commentary.
Ezekiel lived 2600 years ago in what today is called Iraq and which was at that time called Babylon.
Babylon was the most modern and sophisticated city in Ezekiel’s world. The capital city of an international empire. An empire that crushed other nations. An empire that had swallowed up countries on every side. Including Ezekiel’s. It began with the invasion.
The Babylonians invaded Israel in 598 BCE. They destroyed the Holy Temple. And they killed every Israelite they could lay their hands on. Except for the ones they took back to Babylon to be slaves, including Ezekiel who was a priest in the Temple.
From Babylon, Ezekiel prophesied that the Jews would eventually return to their homeland.
Known for his passion, his flair for the dramatic and his extraordinary imaginative visions, Ezekiel’s story of the Valley of the Dry Bones was selected as Shabbat Chol Ha Moed Pesach's haftorah due to its parallel to Passover - our redemption from Egypt and the promise of being brought to the Promised Land.
The Talmud Bavli says that Ezekiel’s was a dream about a parable. The later Midrashim say it was a miracle that actually did occur. Since miracles are what our traditional teachings say Pesach is about, this is an additional theme as well in this Haftarah.
The Haftorah today begins with Ezekiel’s most famous vision - a vision in which he finds himself in a valley that is full of dry bones. God speaks to him and instructs him to prophesy to the bones to hear God's word so that God may breathe life into them and they may live again.
As we read just now,
"God...set me down in the valley, which was full of bones...they were very abundant... they were very dry...Oh dry bones, hear the word of the Lord: I will bring spirit into you and you shall live. I shall put sinews...and flesh...and skin over you. I open your graves and raise you from your graves...and I shall bring you to the Land of Israel."
Ezekiel's prophecy introduced the concept of resurrection which eventually became a cornerstone of Jewish belief. The Mishnah established resurrection as a religious principle as did Maimonides who included it among his Thirteen Articles of Faith. Even today, traditional prayer books include a prayer that speaks of God as one who "revives the dead" (mechayyeh ha-matim).
In rabbinic literature, the resurrection of the dry bones was played down by a number of rabbis. Rabbi Eliezer somewhat reduced the significance of Ezekiel's resurrection of the dry bones, pointing out that "the dead whom Ezekiel revived stood up, recited a song [of praise] and [immediately] died"(Sanh.92b).
Rabbi Judah apparently regarded the story as an allegorical vision; but other rabbis fully accepted the resurrection miracle.
Rabbi Gunther Plaut suggests that the vision should be seen as a metaphor - a preaching device used by all the prophets and especially by Ezekiel.
Other commentators agree that the vision was an allegory meant to impact upon Ezekiel and the people to whom he told the vision. The dry bones represent the despondent people, the graves represent the countries in which they are exiled. God promised "to open their graves" in response to the people's despair. They weren't actually dead. They were so traumatized by their losses that they were dead-like. By infusing them with God's spirit, they would have a resurrection-like experience.
Rabbi Sheldon Blank refers to Ezekiel's message as a metaphor of national resurrection. Not only would the people be reborn as a nation, but they would also have a spiritual reawakening. By sharing his vision with the despairing people living in exile in Babylon, Ezekiel was able to rekindle their belief in God and to give them hope that they would eventually return to the land of Israel to live again.
Many Jews believe that the creation of the State of Israel, which came about only three years after the end of the Shoah, represents the seeming fulfillment of Ezekiel's rather bizarre 2,600-year-old vision.
Do you ever wonder where the stories of the Prophets came from? Knowing their origins can help us understand their subtleties and their connection to our parshiot. The Book of Ezekiel was written for the captives of the tribe of Judah living in exile in Babylon following the Siege of Jerusalem of 597 BC. Up until that exile, their custom had been to worship God in the Temple in Jerusalem. Exile raised important theological questions. How, the Judeans asked, could they worship their God when they were now in a distant land? Was their God still available to them?
Ezekiel speaks to this problem. He first explains that the Judean exile is a punishment for disobedience and he then offers hope to the exiles, suggesting that the exile will be reversed once they return to God.
Unlike their ancestors, who were enslaved and socially marginalized while in exile in Egypt, the Jews of Ezekiel's time were able to become part of the society they found themselves in. They kept their belief in God intact, but they assimilated into Babylonian culture, often being called upon by the Babylonians to complete projects using their skills as artisans. Unlike other enemies, the Babylonians allowed the Jewish people to settle in small groups. While keeping their religious and national identities, many Jews settled comfortably into their new environment.
This growing comfort in Babylon helps to explain why so many Jews decided not to return to their land. Many people would have been born in exile and would know nothing of their old land, so when the opportunity came for them to reclaim the land that was taken from them, many decided not to leave the Babylonian land they knew. This large group of people who decided to stay are known to be the oldest of the Jewish diaspora communities along with the Jews of Persia.
So there you have it - a little about the history of Ezekiel – and about The Valley of the Dry Bones. I wish you all a continued warm and kosher Pesach and Shabbat Shalom!
Balak, Bilaam and Barak
According to Rabbi Berel Wein, “The Bible is replete with what can be called ‘peripheral characters.’ These people flit in and out of the biblical narrative having impact but are always mysterious to those of us who study the Bible. Most of the time these characters are shown in a less than positive light. Lot, Potiphar, Avimelech, even Yitro, are somewhat damaged goods in the eyes of the Torah. But the two main characters in this week’s parsha, Balak and Bilaam, are just plain evil.”
They present two very distinct character prototypes – very different from each other – and yet, completely dependant upon one another. Both are the quintessence of evil. They just go about their evilness differently.
Balak is brutal, direct and minces no words. He is up front in his hatred of the Jewish people – whose very existence he sees as a lethal threat to his nation of Moab. Bilaam, on the other hand, is suave, cunning, full of sweet words and blessings, but behind this punctilious mask he is equally threatened by and hostile towards the existence of the Jewish people.
Bilaam’s combination of greed and hatred of the Jews makes him a dangerous foe. All the more so because it comes in such a seductive disguise of sincerity. Pretending to love us, it is easy for him to gain our trust and our favour. We don’t see him coming. We are taken by surprise.
Hmm. Who does this remind you of? For me, it is President Barak Obama.
Rabbi Wein, in discussing the parsha, gives us chilling insight into the duping of the Jewish people by the biblical Bilaam. In today’s world, substitute Bilaam with Obama – and you have a truly incredible modern-day prophesy.
Rabbi Wein writes, “Apparently there is no human force possessed by the Jewish people that can safely counteract Bilaam’s venom. He is a prophet, a soothsayer, a “holy” person, a man of great charisma and intelligence. But behind that veneer of sincerity and good intentions lies the real villain of the story – the greedy, frustrated, amoral hater. Only later, when the Jewish people fully realize Bilaam’s hatred of them and 24,000 Jews are killed as a result of that hatred, does Bilaam finally come to justice and retribution.”
In an article written in her blog, Carolyn Glick (June 24, 2011 – Liberal American Jewish Suckers) talks about a fundraiser for Obama last week in Washington where 80 Jewish donors paid between $25,000 and $35,800 to hear the Great One speak. She writes, “As has become his habit, Obama opened his remarks by talking about his commitment to Israel's security. And as has become his habit, Obama went on to say that it is his job to force Israelis to bow to his demands because he knows what is best for Israel.
Speaking of his ongoing efforts to force Israel to concede its right to defensible borders before entering into negotiations with the Hamas-Fatah unity government, Obama said, "There are going to be moments over the course of the next six months or the next 12 months or the next 24 months in which there may be tactical disagreements [between the US and Israel] in terms of how we approach these difficult problems."
Obama went on to say that he expects his American Jewish supporters to take his side in his attacks on Israel.
As he put it, the quest for peace between Israel and the Hamas-Fatah government is, "going to require that not only this administration employs all of its creative powers to try to bring about peace in the region, but it's also going to require all of you as engaged citizens of the United States who are friends of Israel making sure...that you're helping to shape how both Americans and Israelis think about the opportunities and challenges."
And how did the Jewish donors respond to Obama's presentation? They loved it. They were, in the words of Obama donor Marilyn Victor, "reassured."
Speaking with Politico, New York businessman Jack Bendheim said, "I think he nailed and renailed his commitment to the security of the State of Israel." Other attendees interviewed in the article echoed his sentiments.
Imagine how they would have swooned if Obama had confessed a secret love for bagels and lox.
What does Obama have to do for these liberal American Jews to accept that he is no friend of Israel's?
Apparently the answer is that there is nothing Obama can do that will convince his many American Jewish supporters that he is not Israel's friend. They will never believe such a thing because doing so will require them to choose between two unacceptable options. The first option is to admit to themselves that in voting for Obama, they are voting against Israel.”
Balak and Bilaam are recurring characters in the Jewish story throughout the ages. Balak threatens us with extermination and, speaks in the name of skewed justice and human rights. Bilaam gains major media attention and the sympathy of the deluded, the ignorant and the naïve. But he represents great danger and eventual catastrophe.
Rabbi Wein writes, “Without Bilaam, Balak cannot function, let alone succeed. And therefore the Torah nowhere describes for us the demise of Balak; it only deals with the killing of Bilaam. For the end of Bilaam is in fact the end of Balak as well.”
In a modern perspective – it takes an Obama in order for a Hamas-Fatah run Palestinian State to flourish. Without Obama, the Hamas-Fatah stronghold in Gaza would have no legitimacy at all – but somehow – American Liberal Jews are blinded by Bilaam-Obama and are therefore as guilty as he is in trying to destroy Israel. G-d help us.
They present two very distinct character prototypes – very different from each other – and yet, completely dependant upon one another. Both are the quintessence of evil. They just go about their evilness differently.
Balak is brutal, direct and minces no words. He is up front in his hatred of the Jewish people – whose very existence he sees as a lethal threat to his nation of Moab. Bilaam, on the other hand, is suave, cunning, full of sweet words and blessings, but behind this punctilious mask he is equally threatened by and hostile towards the existence of the Jewish people.
Bilaam’s combination of greed and hatred of the Jews makes him a dangerous foe. All the more so because it comes in such a seductive disguise of sincerity. Pretending to love us, it is easy for him to gain our trust and our favour. We don’t see him coming. We are taken by surprise.
Hmm. Who does this remind you of? For me, it is President Barak Obama.
Rabbi Wein, in discussing the parsha, gives us chilling insight into the duping of the Jewish people by the biblical Bilaam. In today’s world, substitute Bilaam with Obama – and you have a truly incredible modern-day prophesy.
Rabbi Wein writes, “Apparently there is no human force possessed by the Jewish people that can safely counteract Bilaam’s venom. He is a prophet, a soothsayer, a “holy” person, a man of great charisma and intelligence. But behind that veneer of sincerity and good intentions lies the real villain of the story – the greedy, frustrated, amoral hater. Only later, when the Jewish people fully realize Bilaam’s hatred of them and 24,000 Jews are killed as a result of that hatred, does Bilaam finally come to justice and retribution.”
In an article written in her blog, Carolyn Glick (June 24, 2011 – Liberal American Jewish Suckers) talks about a fundraiser for Obama last week in Washington where 80 Jewish donors paid between $25,000 and $35,800 to hear the Great One speak. She writes, “As has become his habit, Obama opened his remarks by talking about his commitment to Israel's security. And as has become his habit, Obama went on to say that it is his job to force Israelis to bow to his demands because he knows what is best for Israel.
Speaking of his ongoing efforts to force Israel to concede its right to defensible borders before entering into negotiations with the Hamas-Fatah unity government, Obama said, "There are going to be moments over the course of the next six months or the next 12 months or the next 24 months in which there may be tactical disagreements [between the US and Israel] in terms of how we approach these difficult problems."
Obama went on to say that he expects his American Jewish supporters to take his side in his attacks on Israel.
As he put it, the quest for peace between Israel and the Hamas-Fatah government is, "going to require that not only this administration employs all of its creative powers to try to bring about peace in the region, but it's also going to require all of you as engaged citizens of the United States who are friends of Israel making sure...that you're helping to shape how both Americans and Israelis think about the opportunities and challenges."
And how did the Jewish donors respond to Obama's presentation? They loved it. They were, in the words of Obama donor Marilyn Victor, "reassured."
Speaking with Politico, New York businessman Jack Bendheim said, "I think he nailed and renailed his commitment to the security of the State of Israel." Other attendees interviewed in the article echoed his sentiments.
Imagine how they would have swooned if Obama had confessed a secret love for bagels and lox.
What does Obama have to do for these liberal American Jews to accept that he is no friend of Israel's?
Apparently the answer is that there is nothing Obama can do that will convince his many American Jewish supporters that he is not Israel's friend. They will never believe such a thing because doing so will require them to choose between two unacceptable options. The first option is to admit to themselves that in voting for Obama, they are voting against Israel.”
Balak and Bilaam are recurring characters in the Jewish story throughout the ages. Balak threatens us with extermination and, speaks in the name of skewed justice and human rights. Bilaam gains major media attention and the sympathy of the deluded, the ignorant and the naïve. But he represents great danger and eventual catastrophe.
Rabbi Wein writes, “Without Bilaam, Balak cannot function, let alone succeed. And therefore the Torah nowhere describes for us the demise of Balak; it only deals with the killing of Bilaam. For the end of Bilaam is in fact the end of Balak as well.”
In a modern perspective – it takes an Obama in order for a Hamas-Fatah run Palestinian State to flourish. Without Obama, the Hamas-Fatah stronghold in Gaza would have no legitimacy at all – but somehow – American Liberal Jews are blinded by Bilaam-Obama and are therefore as guilty as he is in trying to destroy Israel. G-d help us.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Parsha Beckutachai
I've struggled with the question - do your thoughts matter when it comes to lashon hora?
Blessedly, we are judged by our actions and not our thoughts - but our thoughts certainly influence our actions and our actions influence our thoughts. They are inextricably entwined. Obviously we can only be accountable for what we DO and what we SAY - but what we THINK is important to our development as Jews on a journey towards living a holier life.
When our actions change, often our thinking changes too. When we make an attempt to avoid speaking lashon hora, eventually we cease from thinking lashon hora too.
So what has all this got to do with Parsha Beckutahai?
The subject of thoughts vs actions is extremely relevant to the ideas expressed in Beckutahai. We are basically told to do things right or suffer terrible consequences. What it comes down to is motivation.
Do we do the right thing because it is right? Or because we are scared of punishment. There are many commentators who believe that this is a moot question - as long as you do the right thing it doesn’t matter WHY you are doing it. There is no difference between a person who does the right thing because he or she is trying to live a more Torah-centered life and a person who does the right thing because he or she is afraid of what will happen if they don’t. Both of these motivations produce the same result.
God lays it on the line for us in Beckutahai. Keep My commandments or else. And the Tochecha - the “Rebuke” is pretty frightening - with escalating punishments that will increase 7-fold and affect many generatons after us.
We looked at some Rashi - pretty cool stuff actually. We examined closely Rashi’s take on Leviticus 26:15 - “If you reject My laws and spurn My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break My covenant” - God's preamble to the tochecha. Rashi tells us that the phrase “And you break My covenant” means denying God’s existence. Seems like a huge leap - or is it? Rashi explains that “Thus you have here seven sins the first of which brings the second in its train and so on to the seventh.” And these are:
A Chain Reaction of Sin
1. People will stop studying Torah.
2. Without the foundation of study, they will come to see the commandments as matters of personal choice rather than moral obligation.
3. They will resent people who do study and practice and who make them feel guilty for not doing so.
4. They will try to stop others from fulfilling the ommandments so they will feel less guilty themselves.
5. They will deny that the commandments come from God.
6. They will deny the existence of a covenant between God and Israel.
7. They will deny the existence of God.
Incredible! The ultimate result of breaking our covenant with God will lead us to denying God’s existence. Putting this into a modern context - we can use the “unaffiliated Jew” as an example. This might be the Rashi-progression of the Chain Reaction (or maybe we should call it the Train-Reaction!)
1. The person has nothing to do with Torah or Jewish education.
2. The person chooses to lead his or her life according to personal choice rather than moral obligation.
3. They resent or mock peple who do study and practice and who make them feel alienated for not doing so.
4. They mock the commandments and mitzvoth - calling them irrelevant - implying that people who follow them are ignorant, unenlightened, foolish.
5. They deny that the commandments come from God.
6. They deny or don’t care about a covenant between God and Israel.
7. They deny the existence of God.
You gotta love Rashi!
The bottom line is this. Following the commandments strengthens our belief in God. Not following the commandments destroys it. What we do matters and affects what we think.
Blessedly, we are judged by our actions and not our thoughts - but our thoughts certainly influence our actions and our actions influence our thoughts. They are inextricably entwined. Obviously we can only be accountable for what we DO and what we SAY - but what we THINK is important to our development as Jews on a journey towards living a holier life.
When our actions change, often our thinking changes too. When we make an attempt to avoid speaking lashon hora, eventually we cease from thinking lashon hora too.
So what has all this got to do with Parsha Beckutahai?
The subject of thoughts vs actions is extremely relevant to the ideas expressed in Beckutahai. We are basically told to do things right or suffer terrible consequences. What it comes down to is motivation.
Do we do the right thing because it is right? Or because we are scared of punishment. There are many commentators who believe that this is a moot question - as long as you do the right thing it doesn’t matter WHY you are doing it. There is no difference between a person who does the right thing because he or she is trying to live a more Torah-centered life and a person who does the right thing because he or she is afraid of what will happen if they don’t. Both of these motivations produce the same result.
God lays it on the line for us in Beckutahai. Keep My commandments or else. And the Tochecha - the “Rebuke” is pretty frightening - with escalating punishments that will increase 7-fold and affect many generatons after us.
We looked at some Rashi - pretty cool stuff actually. We examined closely Rashi’s take on Leviticus 26:15 - “If you reject My laws and spurn My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break My covenant” - God's preamble to the tochecha. Rashi tells us that the phrase “And you break My covenant” means denying God’s existence. Seems like a huge leap - or is it? Rashi explains that “Thus you have here seven sins the first of which brings the second in its train and so on to the seventh.” And these are:
A Chain Reaction of Sin
1. People will stop studying Torah.
2. Without the foundation of study, they will come to see the commandments as matters of personal choice rather than moral obligation.
3. They will resent people who do study and practice and who make them feel guilty for not doing so.
4. They will try to stop others from fulfilling the ommandments so they will feel less guilty themselves.
5. They will deny that the commandments come from God.
6. They will deny the existence of a covenant between God and Israel.
7. They will deny the existence of God.
Incredible! The ultimate result of breaking our covenant with God will lead us to denying God’s existence. Putting this into a modern context - we can use the “unaffiliated Jew” as an example. This might be the Rashi-progression of the Chain Reaction (or maybe we should call it the Train-Reaction!)
1. The person has nothing to do with Torah or Jewish education.
2. The person chooses to lead his or her life according to personal choice rather than moral obligation.
3. They resent or mock peple who do study and practice and who make them feel alienated for not doing so.
4. They mock the commandments and mitzvoth - calling them irrelevant - implying that people who follow them are ignorant, unenlightened, foolish.
5. They deny that the commandments come from God.
6. They deny or don’t care about a covenant between God and Israel.
7. They deny the existence of God.
You gotta love Rashi!
The bottom line is this. Following the commandments strengthens our belief in God. Not following the commandments destroys it. What we do matters and affects what we think.
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