130720 – Parshat V’Etchanan

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VORTIFY YOURSELF

Reb Yosil Rosenzweig

rebyosil@gmail.com

PARSHAT V’ETCHANAN

Devarim 3:23 – 7:11

SHABBAT NACHAMU

Haftarah – Isaiah 40:1-26

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This Saturday night and Sunday, the 14th of Av is the second Yahrtzeit of my dear mother Helen Rosenzweig – Chayah bat R’ Shmu’el HaKohen. If my parents would still be alive, this Shabbat would have been their 67th wedding anniversary. This week’s “Vort” is dedicated to their memory. Tehi Nishmateihem Tzerura B’Tzror HaChaim– May their souls be bound up in the Bond of Life.

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The Book of Devarim was originally called Mishna Torah – the second Torah (hence Deuteronomy – in Greek). It was Moshe Rabbeinu’s review of the laws that the Bnei Yisrael would need to keep close to their hearts in order to successfully live in Eretz Yisra’el.

If you think about it, that is a phenomenal statement. It is not logical that the behavior of a people should affect their ability to live on a particular parcel of land. What has moral or spiritual behavior to do with the ability of a nation and a land to coexist? Yet Moshe Rabbeinu writes an entire fifth book of the Torah just to get this point across.

Historically, whenever we have forsaken our Torah lifestyle for a more modern approach to life, our political and social assurance faltered and eventually led to exile. This happened prior to the conquests of the Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks and Romans, in whose exile we find ourselves today.

Our Parsha this week brings home this point. The relationship between Eretz Yisrael, Am Yisrael and Hashem supersedes logic and rationale. Moshe tells Am Yisra’el in every generation: “When you shall have children and grandchildren and will have lived long upon the land, you will become corrupt, worship graven images and do evil in the eyes of HaShem and provoke Him.

Today I will call to witness against you the heavens and the earth (signs of eternity) that you will quickly perish from off the land… which you possess, and your days will not be prolonged but will be destroyed. And HaShem will scatter you among the nations and you will become few in number” (Devarim 4:25-27).

Moshe’s admonition continues: “…since the day that Hashem created man on Earth, and from one end of the heavens to the other, has anything as great been done or heard of? Did ever a nation hear the voice of HaShem as you have speaking out of fire, as you have, and lived? Or has any god taken a nation from the midst of another nation, by way of trials, signs and wonders, with a Mighty Hand and an Outstretched Arm and with awesome greatness, as HaShem your G-d did for you in Egypt? For unto you it was shown, so that you may know that HaShem, He is G-d, there is none other, but Him alone” (Ibid 4:32-35).

To me, the challenge made in the above verses is remarkable. The concept of a nation witnessing together, the direct intervention of Hashem’s obvious power, is unique to Judaism. In the Far East, major philosophies and religions such as Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism have come to light since Matan Torah. In the west, Christianity and Islam have both attempted to invalidate Judaism and have taken the world by storm. And what do they all have in common? They are all based on a single individual’s (or small group of individuals) account of some miraculous event.

Our tradition is not based on Moshe’s testimony. Our ancestors actually witnessed the mighty Hand of G-d. For those of you who are familiar with the Pesach Haggadah, you might consider that the reason that Moshe’s name is never mentioned in the entire recounting of the Exodus is because he was just one of millions of witnesses to the power and glory of HaShem. We commemorate Tisha B’Av, because we experienced the exile and our fall from glory. When we celebrate Pesach we keep our own collective memories alive.

Every day on the calendar conjures up national memories that we experienced, whether it is the Shabbat, Pesach, Shavu’ot or Sukkot. Whether Purim or Chanukah, the five fast days or even Tu B’Av, we are reminded that our faith is based on national experiences and not upon individual accounts.

Our Parsha connects the Aseret HaDibrot – the Ten Utterances (commonly mistranslated as the Ten Commandments) with Shema Yisra’el – Israel’s twice daily declaration of faith. These two recollections will never allow our nation to forget all that Hashem has done for us. We are the remnant of witnesses who have refused to give up our memories for the fantasies of other religions.

Moshe, before he dies, attempts to remind us that yes, we are a Chosen People and yes, our task is to bear the flame that must inspire humanity. Our Parsha confronts us with the enigmas of Torah and faith. Not everything is logical, not everything makes scientific sense. But if the truth be told, our brightness is dependent on Eretz Yisra’el. And when we do not shine, the land rejects us. This doesn’t make sense, it’s not true for other nations, yet, the heavens and earth have born witness to this phenomenon.

Am Yisra’el is likened to the stars of the heavens and we are also likened to the grains of sand upon the earth. We, the Jewish people, are the witnesses to history. We have seen it all. And we retain the collective memories of the millions of Jews who came before us. Each one of us is a star that contains so much power but appears to be just a flicker of light.

Our Haftarah concludes with the words of Isaiah: “Lift up your eyes on high, and see, Who created these? He that brings forth their numbers and calls each by name. Through His might and His strength, not even one shall fall.

Shine on Am Yisrael, shine on.

Shabbat Shalom,

Reb Yosil

120721 – Parshi’ot Matot/Masei

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VORTIFY YOURSELF

Reb Yosil Rosenzweig

rebyosil@gmail.com

PARSHI’OT MATOT/MASEI

BaMidbar (Numbers) 30:2‑36:13

Haftarah Jeremiah 2:4-28, 3:4, 4:1-2

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This week’s Parshi’ot (and the last in BaMidbar), give us a detailed list of the 42 journeys that the B’nei Yisra’el made during their forty year migration from Egypt to Eretz Yisra’el (BaMidbar 33:1 – 10). There is a general misconception that the B’nei Yisra’el wandered in the desert, constantly packing and unpacking, always on the move and never staying in any one place.

RaShI points out the reason for the Torah detailing the individual journeys, he writes: “…to make known HaShem’s acts of kindness, even though He decreed against them (the B’nei Yisra’el) that they should move about and wander in the desert. You should not think that they wandered from place to place all forty years and had no rest. There are only forty two journeys mentioned. We can deduct fourteen that took place in the first year before HaShem’s decree that this generation had to die in the desert (reviewed in Parshat Shelach). Deduct another eight in the fortieth year, after the death of Aharon, and we can then understand that in the thirty eight middle years, they only made twenty stops” (RaShI to BaMidbar 33:1).

What a profound revelation! Our entire perception of the life of the B’nei Yisra’el in the desert must be reconsidered. ChaZaL (our wise men of blessed memory) teach us that the B’nei Yisra’el remained stationary for years at a time, then, when the pillar of cloud would suddenly move, they would pack up and follow it until it stopped. What did they do all those years that they remained stationary?

The obvious answer is that they were occupied with learning how to live as Jews. Prior to the revelation on Mt. Sinai, the former Hebrew slaves had certain rituals that they followed. We know that men were circumcised, that they prayed, and that they followed the seven Noachide commandments, one positive commandment and six negative commandments:

1. Establishing courts of justice;

The prohibitions…

2. The prohibition of blasphemy;

3. The prohibition of idolatry;

4. The prohibition of robbery;

5. The prohibition of murder;

6. The prohibition of adultery; and

7. The prohibition requiring one to kill an animal (mammal) prior to butchering it.

But other rituals were performed as customs, without the authority of being commandments i.e., Shabbat, Levirate marriages and Kashrut. It is no wonder that Moshe was not called Moshe HaNavi – Moshe the Prophet, but Moshe Rabbeinu – Moshe our teacher. Suddenly, with the revelation on Mt. Sinai and the obligation of 613 Mitzvot, vast amounts of time had to be spent on acquiring the knowledge to perform each and every Mitzvah properly.

One might therefore look at the stops made during the 40 years in the desert as interruptions – breaks in the months and years of intense Jewish scholarship. Yet, each move had a purpose and each location was a lesson in accumulating spiritual stamina and fortitude.

The Midrash of Rabbi Tanchuma cites a parable of a king who takes his young son to a distant country to find a cure for his ills. On the journey, a series of events take place, but the prince who is delirious with fever is unaware of their ordeals. After the prince is cured and upon their return home, the king informs the prince – here our carriage broke down, there we were attacked by highwaymen, here we rested and had refreshment, and there your head ached so very badly. Not only was the cure important, but it was also important for the prince to know the cost of the cure.

Similarly, our Parsha recounts all the stops that the B’nei Yisra’el made over the 40 years… Here we crossed the Sea of Reeds; there Moshe caused fresh water to come out of a boulder; here we were attacked by the Amalekites; there we worshiped the Golden Calf; and here we hearkened to the spies. Each location was a story and each story carried a lesson.

We are now in a period in the Jewish calendar called “the three weeks” between Shiva Assar B’Tamuz – the 17th of Tamuz – and Tisha B’Av – the 9th of Av (this year observed on Sunday, July 29). These 21 days force us to remember dark times in our history by actively mourning the destruction of our Temple through fasting and behavior modification. The 17th of Tamuz officially commemorates the siege of the outer walls of Jerusalem by both the Babylonians and the Romans; the 9th of Av commemorates the destruction of both Temples. Throughout our history, terrible tragedies occurred to the B’nei Yisra’el during these 3 weeks, i.e., the Expulsion from Spain, the crusades, pogroms and of course the Holocaust. This period begins and ends with fast days, to emphasize our loss.

Since our dispersion after the destruction of the second Temple in 70 C.E., we have wandered the face of the earth, spending a few years in this place and a few centuries in that place, but never with full security and a sense of wholeness. Regardless of how good our hosts may have been, we have never allowed ourselves to forget Israel, Jerusalem or our Temple.

Every day in our Amidah prayers we say: “V’Li’rushalayim Ircha B’Rachamim TaShuv – And to Your city of Jerusalem, return us in Your mercy. After every meal in the Birkat HaMazon (grace after meals), we recite: “U’Vnei Yerushalayim Ir HaKodesh BiM’hayra B’Yamaynu – Rebuild Jerusalem the holy city, speedily and in our days.” At every wedding, the groom breaks a glass to signify that while we may be rejoicing; we are also broken, living only a partial existence, cut off from our spiritual center.

These 3 weeks remind us of where we have been, what we have endured, the price of our dispersion and the weight of our uncertain future. But like the wanderings of the B’nei Yisra’el in the desert, we look ahead and see that our destiny is tied to Eretz Yisra’el. Each period in our history, each stop that we made along the way, each event, uplifting or devastating, has added to our collective experience.

So we mourn our loss and our dislocation. In fact, it is a Mitzvah – a very difficult Mitzvah – to cry on Tisha B’Av (Talmud, Tractate Sotah 35). Like the groom under the Chupah, our lives may be filled with joy and contentment, but we are actually living only a partial existence. The loss of our Temple and all the rituals, events and influences that surrounded it leaves a great void.

There are suppressed feelings deep inside us that must be amplified and brought to the forefront of our consciousness…feelings of loss, abandonment and inadequacy can contribute to our awareness that our lives are incomplete without our Temple in Jerusalem. Mourning is the vehicle that ChaZaL have given us to deal with these feelings.

We are very lucky to live carefree lives. Most of us do not experience the threat of physical danger. Most of us can afford to live by a very high standard, and even when faced with financial troubles, abject poverty is not usually a real possibility. By relating to an imposed sense of grief we can heighten our connection to Eretz Yisra’el. By not buying new clothes, by not taking a hot shower, or by not attending a live concert, we won’t change the world but we can change our consciousness.

On one hand, the 3 weeks represent all the evil done to Am Yisra’el as a result of our dispersion among the nations. But the 3 weeks also forces us to focus on the Shivat Tziyon – on the return to Zion, a return to an intensified intimacy with our G-d, our land and our Torah.

Like the B’nei Yisra’el in the desert, we need to embrace the study of Torah, so that we will be familiar with our obligations. We must value the cycles of the Jewish year so that we can train ourselves to be open and sensitive to our spiritual needs. And we must never forget the journeys that we have taken: here we experienced a golden age; there a holocaust; here we attempted to abandon our heritage and there we were reborn. Sometimes, journey we must, but each excursion is both a diversion and a lesson in awareness. Only by comprehending our past will we ever connect to our future.

Shabbat Shalom,

Reb Yosil

110806 – Parshat Devarim/Tisha B’Av

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VORTIFY YOURSELF

Reb Yosil Rosenzweig

rebyosil@earthlink.net

PARSHAT DEVARIM/TISHA B’AV

Devarim (Deuteronomy) 1:1-3:22

Haftorah Isaiah 1:1-1:27

110806

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Tisha B’Av – the 9^th of Av (the fast of the ninth day of the month of Av), which begins on Monday evening and ends Tuesday night after dark, is the most solemn of the mournful fasts. Tisha B’Av commemorates the destruction of both Temples, first by the Babylonians in 586 B.C.E. and then by the Romans in 70 C.E. This fast also marks the end of the “Three Weeks” of mourning which began on the fast of the 17^th of Tammuz marking the sieges of Jerusalem. It was designated by the Rabbis as a special time of reflection to rectify those shortcomings within us that led to the destruction of both Temples.

The Parsha of Devarim (the first Parsha in the new Book of Deuteronomy) is always read on the Shabbat before Tisha B’Av. One of the reasons for reading this particular Parsha every year at this time is the similarity of words used both in our Parsha and in the Book of Eichah (Lamentations). In fact, on Tisha B’Av when the Book of Eichah is read, it begins: “Eichah Yashva Badad Ha’Ir – How the city sits alone.” This verse (and the entire book) is chanted with a haunting and sorrowful melody and contains a series of lamentations about the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple. Most of these lamentations begin with the word “Eicha.”

In our Parsha, a single phrase in chapter 1 verse 12 is chanted using this very tune. Moshe laments the difficulties that he encountered due to the lack of faith that the Israelites displayed over the past forty years. Moshe cries out: “Eichah Esa Levadi – How can I carry this alone.” There are two similarities in the phrases: first, the use of the word Eicha (how), second the use of the words Levad and Badad (both with the same root word) meaning being alone.

The destruction of the Temple was not attributed to national unrest, nor to assimilation, nor even to the Roman military campaign, but rather to the lack of proper interpersonal relations.  Similarly, during a 33 day mourning period between Pesach (Passover) and Shavu’ot (Pentecost) which marks a time 50 years after the temple was destroyed by the Romans, in which 24,000 students of Rebbi Akiva died in a plague. The source of that plague was the scarcity of Derech Eretz (respect) displayed among Rebbi Akiva’s students.

The Talmud in Tractate Giten (55b – 56a) teaches that our second Temple was destroyed (70 C.E.) because of Sinat Chinam (senseless hatred). A story is detailed of two men, Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, wherein after an insulting episode between the two occurred, a series of events were set in motion that eventually caused Caesar to lay siege to Jerusalem and burn the Temple to the ground.

The consequence of hatred is alienation. Senseless hatred means that one does not have to overtly cause someone else physical or emotional damage; instead, senseless hatred it divides us and causes barriers to form between us, that ultimately end in alienation and destruction. Therefore the Book of Eichah laments: “Eichah Yashva Badad Ha’Ir – How the city sits alone.” And Moshe in our Parsha cries out: “Eichah Esa Levadi – How can I carry this alone.” Each verse reflects upon how its particular form of alienation has come about.

One tool that forces us into reflecting on feelings of alienation is Aveilut – mourning. When a friend or a loved one is taken away, the community gathers around the bereaved and sits with them and attempts to dispel that feeling of alienation. That is why so many of us have difficulty visiting a mourner. We want to magically remove the pain from that person’s life, when really all that is necessary is to sit with them and let them know that they are not alone.

Moshe was not lamenting the burden of leadership or complaining that it was too great for him to bear. Among the reasons that Moshe was chosen as the leader of Israel was that his shoulders were wide enough to bear the burden of leadership. His lament was that he had to carry that burden by himself, he was alienated from the rest of the nation.

Four times in the first chapter of Eicha we find the words: “Ein Menachem Lah – There is none to comfort her [Jerusalem]” (Verses 2, 9, 17 and 21). Jerusalem laments not only over her destruction but also because there is none to share her grief. The cities of Surah (Babylonia), Toledo (Spain), Vilna (Lithuania), Berlin (Germany), even Winnipeg (Manitoba) are cities among countless others that at one time or another have been referred to as a Jerusalem of sorts, while the real Jerusalem stood alone, forsaken, with her former glory but a memory. I must say that Jerusalem today is a metropolis, bustling with people from every corner of the world, new construction is everywhere, and the eyes of the world are focused upon her. Yet, her exile from the glory of her rightful temple and the loneliness caused by nations that no longer honor her and who continue to attempt to separate her from her people Israel continues.

So even today, when the end of this exile is so close, we chant the sorrowful tune of Lamentations while reading Moshe’s lament. We repeat his words and associate them with Jerusalem’s loneliness. We abstain from meat, music, and parties as if we are mourners so that we, as a people, can come and sit together and rectify both the lack of Derech Eretz (respect) and the Sinat Chinam (senseless hatred) that has always alienated us.

If we want to end this long and miserable exile, let us remind each other of the words of King David: “…Henay Mah Tov U’Mah Na’im Shevet Achim Gam Yachad – Behold how good and how pleasant it is when we can sit together in brotherhood” (Psalms 133:1)

Shabbat Shalom and have an easy fast,

 

Reb Yosil

110521 – Parshat B’Chukotai

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VORTIFY YOURSELF

Rabbi Yosil Rosenzweig

rebyosil@gmail.com

Parshat B’Chukotai

VaYikra (Leviticus) 26:3 – 27:34

Haftorah – Jeremiah 16:19-17:14

110521

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This Sunday night and Monday I will observe the Yahrtzeit (anniversary of the death) of my father Ya’akov ben Yosef A”H. He was a very special man whose attitude during the Holocaust and his absolute faith in survival not only saved his life, but through him, the lives of so many others. His strength and his love was an inspiration to all who knew him. Only now, am I beginning to feel the loss of his presence.

T’hei Nishmato Baruch – may his soul be a blessing.

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Parshat B’Chukotai is the last Parsha of the Book of VaYikra. As the final verse is read in synagogue it is customary for the congregation to recite the phrase, CHAZAK, CHAZAK, V’NITCHAZEIK – STRENGTHEN, STRENGTHEN, WE SHALL BE STRENGTHENED. Next week we begin the Book of BaMidbar – Numbers.

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Whether the following story is true or just a joke that the Jews told each other in Treblinka, I don’t know, but the message is nonetheless powerful. The story is told of the only man who ever dared the unthinkable and laughed when Hitler talked about the Jews, and was seized from the audience and then brought before the dictator for an explanation. His response: “Purim we have because of Haman,” he began, “and Passover we have because of Pharaoh. But I can’t wait to find out what holiday we’ll have when we get rid of you!”

To my mind, this proves once again that, in the midst of the greatest tragedy, that there are Jews somewhere who are able to see some light at the end of the tunnel. If there is even the trace of a smile that can be seen through the shadows, all the better.

In this week’s Torah reading, HaShem threatens to punish the children of Israel that if they stray His laws.

“I will lay your cities in ruin and make your sanctuaries desolate…. I will make the land desolate so that your enemies who settle in it will be amazed by it, and I will scatter you among the nations…” VaYikra (Leviticus) 26:31–33.

The commentator RaShI, with the hindsight of over 2,000 years, puts his magnifying glass up to these words and suggests that behind this plague of curses, there is also a promise of salvation. “It’s a good sign for Israel,” RaShI writes about the land’s desolation, because no matter who conquered the land, the soil would never bear fruit again for any other nation except for Israel. Neither the Babylonians nor the Romans nor the Turks, nor even the British could make it green. The land was as stubborn as a rock – patient, waiting century after century for its rightful owners to return, reclaim and replant.

Shortly after the Six Day War, the border between Israel and what had been Jordan came to be called the Green Line for a simple reason. Our side of the border, after 18 years of tilling the soil, was green; their side was rocky and parched, the color of bricks baking in the sun. Further, RaShI suggests those “sanctuaries” would retain their sanctity, no matter what. The Jews would know their land, would always be holy as long as they pined for it – and we did – because we knew the Holy Land was waiting for its holy people to return and establish upon it a holy kingdom. It was in our prayers every day and you can be certain that if our great–grandparents had had the freedom to immigrate to the Mediterranean shore on a ticket paid for by the Jewish Agency, with living expenses for six months, Hebrew lessons and help in finding a job, they would have jumped at the opportunity!

Even in the “Diaspora curse,” verse 41 in the same chapter, when HaShem says:

“…I will bring them into the land of their enemies,”

RaShI sees another “good sign,” the “I” signifies HaShem’s loving presence, an echo of the verse in Bereishit (Genesis) 28:14 in which HaShem tells Jacob about the future of His progeny:

“…You shall spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All of the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants.”

A Midrash on this verse describes how Jews would spread the ethics of the Torah in the land of their enemies and even learn positive things from the Gentile world – in the manner, say, in which Maimonides learned from Aristotle.

But whether RaShI’s optimism touches on our experience in the Diaspora or alludes to the possibilities in turning the fate of our dispersion into the destiny of a miraculous rebirth, the lesson is still the same. One of our modern teachers the border of blessed memory, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (Rosh Yeshiva and Dean of Yeshiva University and Rabbi of the Boston Orthodox community – 1903-1993. A scion of the Brisk Torah dynasty, he was an original Talmudic scholar, thinker and leader), has suggested that this ability to transform fate into destiny is what characterizes a triumphant life. I would maintain that so much of our ability to understand the admonishment portion of this week’s Parsha is based on how we exercise free will and opportunity amid an environment of freedom.

It is very easy to become a prisoner of fate. But it is much more difficult to become a pursuer of destiny. So many people become locked into situations that have fallen around them. They become paralyzed into inaction and indecision, so that any and all efforts to change what is changeable fall short of any goal of realization. Yes, when we look at the admonishment portion on the very surface, it is the classic formulation of a system of rewards and punishment for the righteous and the wicked. It asserts that there is a direct correlation between the moral quality of life and the resultant good fortune of a community. Conversely, ill fortune is the inevitable bitter harvest of those who sow selfishness, deceit, and contentiousness.

Yet, we join the various biblical commentators over the ages as we, in all honesty and candor, raise doubts about the reality of this moral equation as we see and judge from our own life’s experiences. The ledger of history and our own personal experiences leave an element of doubt that such a neat cause–and–effect formula actually governs the destiny of our people. We recognize that life is not fair. The tragedies of this world are constant testament to the injustices that have plagued humans throughout history. Bad things do happen to good people. However, life is not a quid pro quo sequence. It is disjointed, often unfair and frequently appears to be a random series of unpredictable events.

Perhaps, then, as some religious thinkers have suggested, the text should actually be understood as an admonition and a warning. It is counsel to a community about the good, as well as the disastrous impact that unfolds from forsaking HaShem’s call to righteous living. The sufferings that a corrupt society endures, is not the protest sent by a disappointed, angry or wrathful God. The ill fortune is, in fact, brought upon that society by itself. Our good or evil actions bring their own consequences. We are both the subject and the agent of our own undoing.

In the final analysis, we must recognize that the world is not always fair or just. It may be cruel and ugly, but Judaism calls us to address those events that are within our control. Our task is to make our lives and those about us beautiful. If we would best utilize those opportunities, then no matter what random events may strike out at us, we will also know the inner satisfaction and reward of a life that is well lived and purposeful.

These are the blessings and the curses that then rain down as a result of obeying or forsaking God’s ways. The good or the tragic, the joy or the pain, are often decreed by the work of our own hands. Sometimes we may become undeserving victims, but Judaism would also urge us to see the beauty that will come from walking the pathway of HaShem, by infusing significance into every moment; by using our time well. And in that way, we come to better appreciate and understand the words we say 3 times a day: “And may our eyes see Your return to Jerusalem with compassion” (daily Amidah prayer). Then maybe, we will do as Rebbi Akiva did, when he saw the destruction of Jerusalem, he laughed, for he knew without a doubt that a future return to Zion was inevitable (see the Vortify of Parshat Acharei Mot 110416).