120915 -Parshat Netzavim/Rosh HaShanah

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VORTIFY YOURSELF

Rabbi Yosil Rosenzweig

rebyosil@gmail.com

PARSHAT NETZAVIM – ROSH HASHANAH

Devarim (Deuteronomy) 29:9-31:30

Haftarah – Isaiah 61:10-63:9

120915

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This Shabbat, you will probably noticed that something is missing from the service. Normally, the liturgy for the last Shabbat in any Jewish month features the Birkat HaChodesh – the Blessing of the New Month – an announcement of the day on which the new month falls in the week approaching, this year on Sunday night.

The practice of announcing the new moon’s arrival is ancient. Throughout the centuries, it has grown both in stature and in substance. Today, a simple announcement has burgeoned into a series of prayers second to none in their poetic beauty and magnificent melodies. The congregation stands while the cantor holds the Torah and prays for a month of happiness, blessing, sustenance, peace and piety. It is quite a moment, a pause in time to watch the moments ticking past, to consider that whatever last month may have brought us, life goes on (we hope, for the better).

But not every new month is awarded this elaborate advance announcement. There is this exception: the month of Tishre, the month that begins next week and marks the New Year. That is what we miss this Shabbat. The Shabbat prior to Tishre comes and goes without the ceremony announcing it.

The Baal Shem Tov explained the anomaly this way: “For the month that starts the New Year, God says the requisite blessing on the preceding Shabbat. By virtue of that divine act, we are empowered to bless the other months that follow.” At first glance it might also seem that we normally announce the month just so people will not forget to observe it when it comes, a reasonable fear given the fact that people owned no wall calendars in days of old. Going to synagogue on Shabbat was, among other things, a way to know when the new moon was expected and thus a way to assure yourself that you would not miss it. It kept one connected to the cycle of Jewish life, to the yearly calendar of seasons and experiences.

And more was involved than a mere announcement. Judaism associates different feeling tones with different months. Adar, for instance, which contains the merry festival of Purim, is associated with happiness. “When Adar arrives,” goes the saying, “celebration increases.” Hearing that Adar is about to arrive allows you to prepare yourself psychologically to adopt an apt Adar perspective — to look at the bright side of life and to anticipate that maybe you too might be visited by unexpected pleasures. Similarly, Av the month when both the Temples were destroyed signifies sorrow and provides the opportunity to come to terms with the lamentable side of human nature: war, persecution and suffering.

Tishre, too, has its peculiar quality. It is the beginning of the Jewish year. Its New Moon day is also the New Year day. Thus, Tishre evokes introspection, penitence and seriousness, even foreboding. Tradition provides considerable opportunity for appropriate spiritual preparation: the Shofar is blown daily during the previous month of Elul. Then just like this past week, Selichot services are held on a Saturday night just prior to Tishre’s arrival. There is really no need, therefore, to announce the new month for which everyone is already preparing. But more than that, tradition has considered it inappropriate to herald Tishre with the normal prayer for a happy, healthy month, lest we get the impression that this is just an ordinary month coming up, a month like all the rest, which it clearly is not.

Instead, it is as if history could stop at the close of this month; as if the world might come to an end if we do not come to terms with our transgressions; as if all bets are off until that final Shofar blast at Yom Kippur’s conclusion. This is the time of uncertainty, of dropping all pretenses that we are in charge of things, of considering how tenuous life really is and to answer the hard questions of our conscience and of God.

This Shabbat should remind us that we cannot hope and expect to go endlessly through life bestowing unlimited blessing on those we love. We have the right to get tired, we will sometimes fail, and we do need help. This Shabbat’s blessing, which we are not empowered to pronounce, underscores that message. Sometimes we are dependent on HaShem to do what we cannot. Millions are in recovery programs, admitting they have to “let go” and let HaShem in. Millions more would do anything to cure a child of leukemia, to bring back a teenage runaway, to save a marriage and there may be nothing they can do.

So we pass up the opportunity to announce Tishre. This month, we may not simply pray for happiness; rather, we must earn it, or at least earn the right to it, by examining our faults and making amends.

If all this sounds ominous, it is. We moderns have lost our appreciation of the ominous because we have largely escaped from the uncertainties built into living a life dependent on the natural flow of time. We prefer to tie winter to skiing trips, summer to vacations, spring to housecleaning and autumn to a new school year – all very interesting social institutions, no doubt, but hardly as substantial as ties experienced by people who are unshielded from nature’s idiosyncrasies. For many, winter is a time for freezing, summer for smoldering, autumn for hurricanes and spring for rain without which we starve.

The day Jews began moving to cities, they also lost the intrinsic connection between time and nature. In its place, however, they erected a web of meaning linking time to the human predicament: Adar to happiness, Av to sadness and Tishre to the foreboding uncertainty that is the very essence of our humanity.

We are here today and gone tomorrow. This Shabbat, having been denied the optimistic announcement of a new month’s dawning, we should think of more than just the World Series and the football season. Tishre tells us to come to terms with those we love and with God above, for we cannot guarantee that the breath we draw today will not be out last.

We cannot bless this month. We can only hope that we will be considered favorably in judgment and granted a new lease on life. It is HaShem’s place to begin but hopefully ours to finish the special task of blessing our months and sanctifying our time. May we only be worthy of such support.

In my own life, this past year has been a monumental challenge. A leg amputation and a series debilitating illnesses have been a great Nisayon (Divine ordeal) that drained me physically and spiritually. So many times I felt like giving up and yet during moments of lucidity I knew that HaShem was still providing me with the means to overcome my despair and loneliness. Between His grace and some wonderful love and encouragement from family and very special friends I’ve lived to see a great turnaround and blessing. This past week, the last week in the year 5772 has marked an unbelievable reversal. On Monday I started walking for the first time in a year and have progressed at a profound rate, today I even climbed up 40 steps and came down successfully but totally exhausted. HaShem works K’Heref Ayin – in the blink of an eye.

For me, the month of Tishre and the year 5773 heralds HaShem’s divine blessing for health, prosperity and above all hope.

Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tovah,

Reb Yosil

110924 – PARSHIOT NETZAVIM/VAYELECH

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VORTIFY YOURSELF

Reb Yosil Rosenzweig

rebyosil@gmail.com

PARSHIOT NETZAVIM/VAYELECH

Devarim (Deuteronomy) 29:9-31:30

Haftorah – Isaiah 61:10-63:9 110924

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Our double Parsha begins with the words: “You are standing today, ALL OF YOU, before HaShem, your G-d…to pass into a covenant with HaShem, your G-d…and to establish you as His people, and He as your G-d…Not with you alone do I seal this covenant and this obligation, but also with whoever are not [yet] here with us today.” (Devarim 29:9-14)

The implication is clear, an everlasting covenant is being made not only with that generation of Israelites about to enter the Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), but with all future generations of Jews – a covenant that proclaims that HaShem and Israel will be faithful, committed and conscious of each other.

How appropriate to read this Parsha the week proceeding Rosh HaShanah, which begins next Wednesday day night. Many of us believe that Rosh HaShanah is the holiday acknowledging the anniversary of G-d’s creating the universe; however, this is a common mistake. Rosh HaShanah marks the sixth day of creation – the creation of Man – the day spiritual consciousness came into being. It is fitting therefore, that we utilize this holy-day to elevate our consciousness to the pursuit of goodness, for that is what HaShem expects of us.

One of the major difficulties in changing our patterns of life is that we basically consider ourselves “good people.” We are civilized, charitable, loving and kind people. We don’t see ourselves as evil wagers of war upon G-d and His definitions of good and evil, we are basically generous promoters of our definitions of goodness, so, what is there to change?

We can gain an insight from the Torah’s description of the meeting between our Patriarch Avraham and AviMelech of Gerar. The Torah reading on the first day of Rosh HaShanah (Bereishit [Genesis] 21:1-34) ends with a renewed peace treaty made between AviMelech and Avraham. But in order for there to be a renewal, we must first understand the original peace treaty made between them. Let me set the scene for you from Bereishit (Genesis) 20:1-18, the chapter immediately prior to the Torah reading on the first day of Rosh HaShanah.

Avraham and Sarah were relocating their home after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. They had to travel through Gerar, a province of Philistia, which was known for its “law-abiding” adherence to an upstanding code of civil law, under the authority of King AviMelech. Now, AviMelech was known to have an eye for beautiful women, in fact, included in his harem were women who were once married to other men. AviMelech was not so ghastly as to bed a married woman, no, he was a civilized man, and would never consider violating the woman of another man. But, somehow that woman’s husband would conveniently be murdered, leaving the door open now for AviMelech’s seemingly legitimate advances.

Protocol forced Avraham to pay his respects to AviMelech, and to avoid any threat to his life, he introduced Sarah as his sister. AviMelech immediately desired Sarah and had her brought (against her will) to his harem. Before he could do anything with Sarah, AviMelech fell into a deep sleep and had a strange dream. In his dream, G-d came to him and warned him that Avraham was a prophet of great stature, and any abuse to Sarah his wife, would of anger G-d.

AviMelech got up from his sleep and with great indignance called for Avraham and Sarah, demanding to know why Avraham lied to him, almost causing him to commit a horrendous sin with Sarah. Avraham answered AviMelech; “And Avraham said: ‘…for there is no fear (awe) of G-d in this place, and they will slay me over the matter of my wife‘ ” (Bereishit 20:11).

Avraham came to a civilized part of the world, known for their law-abiding character, these were good people, and yet he eluded the truth about his relationship with Sarah because he knew that his life was in jeopardy. “There is no fear of G-d in this place, and they will slay me over the matter of my wife.”

Being civilized is a wonderful framework to live by, but what happens when there is a conflict with what I want and being civilized? My desires and not necessarily my morality may win out. It is the “awe” of G-d that holds man back from his own hungry desires. Morals based on civilized behavior can change, as we in this generation have so often seen.

I grew up in the sixties, when the call words of my generation were, “make love not war.” Those words to my parents generation were “prost,” or boorish. For instance, in my youth, abortions were wrong and practically unheard of for upstanding members of the community. If one did submit to an abortion, there was a prevailing sense of shame and one tried to keep the deed secret. Today, abortion is a moral right, and if someone actually verbalizes that it is wrong, she/he is immediately labeled a right-wing fanatic.

Acquiring the fear of G-d, or let us use a more pleasing terminology, becoming G-d conscious, is the main message of Judaism – to Jew or to Gentile. Realizing His presence in the most mundane or secular aspects of our daily lives is what Rosh HaShanah is all about.

Being a civilized individual is wonderful, if that is all that you can reach for. But we the Jewish people have more than just being civilized to offer the world, we offer G-d consciousness – which has responsibilities that go beyond just being kind to your wife and children, or concerned about the ecology. It is our obligation to discover our own place in a created world, that is watched over by none other than the Melech Malchei HaMelachim (the King of kings), HaKodosh Baruch Hu (the Holy One Blessed Be He). This responsibility can only be acquired by adhering to laws and principals that go beyond human sensibilities – His Torah and Mitzvot.

So when we are about to put food in our mouths, we must be G-d conscious. When we ponder our observance of Shabbat or holidays, we must be G-d conscious. When we consider throwing that tissue out the car window, we must be G-d conscious. When choosing a mate, we must be G-d conscious. And when considering the worth of being a member of a Shul (synagogue), or part of a Jewish community, we must also be G-d conscious.

I believe that what stops many from seeking a committed path to HaShem is the fear of becoming an extremist. But as the Torah teaches about its own character: “Dera’cheha Darchei No’am, – its trails are always pleasant, V’Chol N’tivoteha Shalom – and all her pathways lead to peace” (Mishlei [Proverbs] 3:18).

While we did not physically stand at the foot of Mt. Sinai, or on the day that a new covenant was entered into prior to the Israelites entering the Land of Israel, our Parsha declares that spiritually we were all there. An everlasting covenant with all future generations was entered into with both a sense of awe and faithfulness. Let us mark the new year of 5772 as a year when G-d consciousness is an acceptable goal to all of mankind and not an expression of extremism. Let us come together and question our existence and our role in G-d’s plan. Let us provide every opportunity for our children and our grandchildren’s generations, to successfully traverse the trails and pathways of life. And let us all pray for a year of blessings, a year of health and a year of peace for all mankind.

On behalf of my entire family, I wish you all a K’Tivah V’Chatima Tovah, may you all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.

Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tovah,

Reb Yosil

Parshat Ki Tavo

A good friend of mine and I formed a time to the study Talmud on a regular basis. Many of the topics discussed in the Talmud deal with rituals and observances that no longer apply to our generation. Not all Mitzvot apply to every person, every time and/or every place. Some Mitzvot apply only to Levites, others only to special days of the year or cycles of years and others only apply to those living in the Land of Israel. So if a particular Mitzvah doesn’t apply in this day and age, or to this person or location, my friend will always ask, “how do I apply this to my life, right now, right here?”

The answer to this question is found in the juxtaposition of two Mitzvot described in this week’s Torah portion. The first is the Mitzvah of Bikurim – first fruits (Devarim 26:1-11), where the farmer who owned fruit trees in Israel was obliged to bring his first ripe fruits as a special offering and make a special declaration in the Beit HaMikdash – the Temple in Jerusalem.

The Mishnah (Tractate Bikurim 3:3, 4) describes in minute detail how these fruits were gathered, packed, and carried on the shoulders of the pilgrims on their way to the Holy City. It then informs us that they were greeted by the dignitaries of the city with music and songs and testimonial speeches.

Viewing the ceremony and the accompanying praise and recognition, an observer might presume that extensive and generous offerings had been made from the fruits. And he would then be surprised to learn that Jewish law does not in fact stipulate the exact quantity to be given as Bikurim. Indeed, it is the first fruits that are included among those Mitzvot that have no limits or parameters in terms of their performance and observance. One could observe this Mitzvah by just giving something – such as a cluster of grapes and a few dates or a few olives to represent an entire orchard, and this would be sufficient.

There was another contribution that a Jew was obliged to give, and that represented a much more substantial part of his income that is also mentioned in our Parsha. The Mitzvah of Ma’aser or Tithe (Devarim 1:12-15). Ten percent of one’s harvest went to the Levite, and periodically ten percent went to the poor. But Ma’aser was given quietly, without any of the fanfare or pageantry or testimonials associated with the Bikurim ritual. No special tribute was paid to the farmer for his generous contribution to the Levite and the poor, no music was played in his honor. So one might question, why did the bringing of the first ripe fruits kindle the imagination of all, while the giving of the tithes, certainly a significant act of generosity and communal responsibility was passed over without any notice? The answer, one might say, is “in the timing” – of learning how to ‘put things first’ in life.

Just imagine the farmer tilling his land, pruning his trees, lighting his fires to protect the orchards from the frost. Finally, after months of anxiety and toil and travail, he beholds the first ripe fruit. What joy must have flooded his heart at seeing the fruit of his realized labors? We could just picture that desire and impulse to want to literally taste the fruits of his labor. But no, the first fruits are not his, and they are instead designated as a special offering in the Temple. They are a gift to the Almighty. So he takes the first fruits before he can partake of them, and designates them as Bikurim. He takes them to the holy Temple in Jerusalem, where special tribute is paid to him for his strength of character and his devotion to G-d, his being able to supplant his own desires to a higher cause, more sublime purpose.

Ma’aser on the other hand, was given much later. It was given at the conclusion of the harvest, when all of the produce was safely stored in the silos and granaries. When giving at so late a date, when the storehouses are brimming and overflowing with produce, doesn’t the farmer deserve any special recognition or tribute. Is it just a duty performed in accordance with the law, but nothing more?

The difference between the Ma’aser and the Bikurim then lies in the fact that with Bikurim it was not the gift but the idea behind the gift that warranted such emphasis. For it is not always how much one gives that is so important, as much as how that person comes forth with his generosity and recognition of the very source of their material bounty.

And we can see the lesson of Bikurim applied to other aspects of our lives and our human existence. For when a Jew devotes his energies and talents to his people, to his religion and to society when he is in the prime of life, that is Bikurim, a recognition of the primacy of these roles and obligations in his life which are not secondary but essential to a meaningful and just life. But when a person waits for the twilight of his life to first become active in Jewish life then that is Ma’aser.

Unfortunately, many adopt this Ma’aser type philosophy early in life and live altogether in the future waiting for some final moments. I will study – when I retire. I will attend services and become active in community activities – when I have more leisure time. I will give my Ma’aser, I will become more charitable – when I make my killing in my business or when my ship comes in. There are many who delay or defer their involvement and meaningful roles to some later time, time that might never come or happen. It is a dangerous, if not a reckless practice towards procrastination and delay. Who knows if there will be a future? Who knows if there will be those later years? And so it was the great sage Hillel who underscored this thought so well with his famous teaching in Pirkei Avot, chapter 1, Mishnah 14 – “If not now, when?” If something in life should be done, it should be done now, instead of waiting until tomorrow. “Next year” is now!

This is the importance of Bikurim in our day and age, it is not in its gift, which was often minute in comparison to the actual yield of the field, but its lesson, which was immense and intended to provide us with a way to prioritize our lives. Our ancestors brought their very first fruits, the best of their resources, to G-d as a symbol of their priorities in life. And so let us learn the beautiful lesson of Bikurim by bringing our first strengths to G-d and Judaism. And in so doing, we shall bring meaning to our lives and blessings to our people, not only giving graciously, but gaining from our goodness as well.

Shabbat Shalom, and Shana Tovah TiKateivu V’TeCheteimu – may you be transcribed and inscribed (in the Book of Life) for a good year.

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VORTIFY YOURSELF
Rabbi Yosil Rosenzweig
rebyosil@gmail.com
PARSHAT KI TAVO
Devarim (Deuteronomy) 26:1-29:8
Haftorah – Isaiah 60:1-22
100828
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