Yom Kippur

Last week I wrote about both Rosh Ha’Shana and Parashat Ha’azeenu. As a matter of fact, the reading of that portion was postponed to this week. Please consult last week’s entry it if you want to learn something on Ha'azeenu. Next week we'll discuss the very last Portion in the cycle, the one about the Blessing.

Today I would like to say a few words about Yom Ha'Kipurim - the day of atonement -- which is upon us. First, I find it fascinating that even this great day cannot not amend misdeeds between "a person and his friend," although it is important enough, and comprehensive enough, to repent all sins between "a person and God." In a way -- a small way -- man's relationships with his friends seem all of a sudden more important than his relationship with God, even on Judaism's most holiest of days. There are, of course, many attempts to resolve this conundrum, on which I will not dwell here. [For those who are interested, I would recommend the first of Nine Talmudic Readings by Emanuel Levinas a French philosopher (1990); a fantastic presentation of both the problem and the several attempts made to resolve it.] I would say, however, that I love the fact that on the day we think most about God, we must also not forget for a moment our "earthly" friends -- which are, in the end, our most important connections to our spiritual selves.

And another word on this special day. The last T'fila (prayer) - Tfilat Ne'eela [literally, "to lock," which refers to the fact that the heavens are closing right before God makes his choices about who shall live and die] -- is one of the greatest literal achievements of serving God. Read after an entire day of fast and undergoing other physical and mental anguish, the prayer reminds us of the simple truth that "man and beast are no different, for all is vanity." Ecc. 3:19 (my translation; unfortunately, all ten "classic" translations -- see http://bible.cc -- are wrong here, claiming the verse suggests that man claims "no superiority" over the animal; the original, however, is much more poignant.) This is a "tough sell" for such a holly day: Here we are, standing all day before God in the synagogue (or elsewhere), praying and pouring our hearts out, and yet we have to read -- in the holiest of prayers -- that we are no different than any of the animals. How come? Professor Leibowitz suggests that the solution to this "tough sell" can be found only two lines thereafter, in the same prayer: "You have recognized a man from beast, and acknowledged him to stand before You." In other words, as long as we live our lives without "standing before God" -- or, for that matter, without standing before what we perceive to be the real meaning of life -- then truly our lives are not any different than those of any animal. We aim for better car, better job, beautiful jewelry, just like the ape aims for a better tree, higher spot on the food chain, more handsome partner. Things are different, however, if we "stand before God": There, and only there, we are recognized by Him to be different. This -- the standing before God -- is what separates us from the animals; not our empty and shallow life (read: watching reality shows and playing video games all day), but only what is beyond that.

And one final word on Kol Nidrei. Again, it is a little disheartening, to say the least, to read every year the same long and exhaustive list of crimes that we have committed -- whether we have actually committed them or not. But that's the entire point: Even if we think we never committed those crimes, we are human -- all too human, as Nietzsche has discovered -- and therefore are guilty of committing all those sins even without our knowledge. In essence, we are told: So that your pride will not take over - you have sinned, and must apologize for it. But today is the day of repentance. And that is the beauty of Yom Kippur.

Shabbat Shalom, Tzom Kal, and Gmar Tov.

Doron

Parashat Ha'a'zee'nu: Deut. 32.1-32:42

Introduction to Ha’a’zee’nu: Rosh HaShana in NYC

Before I come to discuss this week’s Portion, I wanted to say a word about two important dates that bookended this Shabbat: the solemn marking of September 11, and the celebration of Rosh Ha’Shana, the Jewish New Year. Is there a connection between these two events (which, almost invariably, will be held in close proximity for years to come)?

I was pondering this very question eight years ago, when preparing to celebrate the Jewish New Year only days after the occurrence of the most horrific terrorist attack ever to take place on American soil. At the time I was new to the City (and to the country – I come from Israel); and for me, like many others, the World Trade Center represented all that is “America”: the sheer size, the drive ever higher, the financial content, the buzz. And then the two towers were gone. And in them, thousands of innocent people who turned into ashes and dust. That was very hard for me to accept. One of New York’s most distinct symbols, the “south” in my private “New York compass” – you could see the towers from almost anywhere in the City – was no more. Falling under the attack of religious fanatics, the World Trade Center has turned into a mass grave of so many innocent lives, and simply disappeared from New York’s skyline. How can such a symbol be gone in one day? How can so many lives be lost due to a terrorist attack? And now I had to prepare to celebrate Rosh HaShana – How can one do that?

I tried to think of all the Jews who were forced – yes, forced; there is no choice here – to celebrate this holiday after having experienced major atrocities throughout history. I thought of the Jews who lost their loved ones on the eve of Rosh Ha’Shana just because they were Jews; of those who lost all they ever had and loved in the Camps; and of those who fought to finally fulfill the dream of having our own Jewish State, and left behind so many friends on the battlefield. All those people had to celebrate Rosh Ha’Shana – to mark the beginning of the New Year, and to bless: “Let the year end with all its curses, let the year begin with all its blessings.”

And I realized that the duty to celebrate this holiday – every single year at the exact same time – was in and of itself one of its main redeeming virtues. You may recall that last week we discussed the duty to choose life in Judaism. Here is a great example: The mourning period was far from over, yet we were all instructed to move on with our lives and mark the New Year despite what had just happened. We were in essence reminded that we have to appreciate the very fact that we are present – alive enough – to receive the New Year. That alone should be of great relief and a source of happiness. This does not mean that we should forget what took place on September 11, or any other horrific event; but it does mean that we must move on with our lives – to choose life – and not stay in the state of death as long as we see fit.

Ha’Aa’zee’nu – The Duty to Listen

The poem, or song, which opens this week’s Portion with the call – or is it an order? – to “listen” [or “lend ear,” as some translations put it] is justly considered one of the greatest recitations of the relationships between the Chosen People and its God. While the poem itself merits a serious discussion, I will forego one and instead focus on two other issues: the single word that opens the Portion, and the single sentence that ends it. [The second “bookends” of this week.]

The Portion begins with – and thus is named for – the word Ha’Azee-nu (“Listen”). The verse continues to suggest that the heavens and the earth should “lend their ear” to the poem. Are these the actual intended audience? A close reading of the last verse in the previous Portion – Ve’ye’lech (on which we could not speak last week for lack of time) – suggests a different answer:

Deut. 31:30

“And Moses spoke to the entire congregation of Israel, to their ears, the following poem until it has ended.” (my translation - DK)

This verse suggests that, far from the amorphous Heaven and Earth, this poem was meant directly to the “entire congregation of Israel.” [see also God’s order to Moses, at Deut. 31:19, to “teach this poem to the People of Israel.”] But the verse goes beyond merely stating the obvious – the designated addressees of the poem. It actually discuss to other issues which I find very relevant to our lives today: First, it suggests that Moses spoke not merely to the People, but actually to their ears. This is interesting, as in Hebrew, the noun “ear” (“o’zen”) and the command to listen (“Ha’a’zee’nu,” as the name of our Portion this week) come from the same source. That way, when you speak to someone’s “ear,” you expect them to actually “listen” to what you say (as opposed to merely “hear” you). But the verse goes further, and suggests that Moses insisted on saying the poem “until it has ended.” That, again, tells us something about the true meaning of listening: one can never truly listens, if one does not let the other utter what they want “until it has ended.”

These two notions – of listening, and of allowing the other to finish their thought – seems almost archaic in this day and age, when Congress members do not hesitate to yell to the President “You Lie” in the middle of his speech. Yet it is good to realize, as always, how relevant and instructive the teachings of this ancient text could be for today’s world.

You Shall See the Promised Land From Afar…

The last verse of this week’s portion comes straight from the final dialogue between God and his greatest prophet, the only person to ever be called “Man of God” (Deut. 33:1). Moses is about to die, and the Lord himself comes to inform him of that and to bid farewell (and there are those who interpret that God came to prepare Moses for his high-ranking position in the after world). One might expect a nice summary of all of Moses’ “greatest hits,” perhaps including the parting of the sea, overcoming all of Egypt’s wise, leading Israel for forty years in the desert, and many more. Instead, God opts for the opposite: He calls Moses on the one act where he failed – refusing to talk to the rock and hitting it instead in order to bring water out of it – and then announces the punishment:

Deut. 32:43

“As you shall see the land from afar, but there you shall not arrive – to the land I shall give to the Children of Israel.” (my translation)

Many a commentator were baffled at this parting words of God to his devoted slave. Some tried to explain that Moses, with his desert-related acumen and Egypt-related background was not “fit” to lead the nation into the promised land. Others have pointed out that Moses was too old for the job – it was time for a new leader. A better interpretation, in my mind, could be found in the radical option that this was not a punishment at all. Rather, one could view this final dialogue, like many before it, as the mere transfer of information from God to Moses about what is about to happen next. The fact that Moses is not a part of this future occurrence is not a punishment at all; it is, rather, a descriptive reality.

To understand such interpretation, one must realize that for Moses, being as close to God as anyone before or since was his true life’s achievement. Being physically in a different place – in the state of Israel, for example – would not change it. Being mentally in a different state – a leader in a country, rather than in the desert – would not change it either. From a religious perspective – and this is a religious text – Moses has received his “prize” many times over: he lived his a life of devotion and standing before God like no other man. This life was now over, and God felt close enough to Moses to notify him of that personally. But there is no punishment here, nor a need to summarize Moses’ greatest achievement. The mere occurrence of that last discussion with God is the best summary of all, and the best testimony, of such “achievement.”

Shana Tovah, and Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Nitzavim-Ya'ye'lech, Deut. 29:9-31:30

Intro – The Portion in a Nutshell

This week’s portion – Nitzavim-Va’ye’lech – is one of the great examples of great quality without much quantity (“a little that holds the plentiful,” to translate a favorite Mishna saying). Though being one of the shortest in the Book – in fact, so short that these are two, very short portions combined – they contain some of the most comprehensive summaries of philosophical puzzles that are still of great interest to us today.

To recap, we are still in one of the last portions of the cycle, and hence the main theme is a summary of the relationships between the Chosen People (a term on which I elaborated in my last posting) and its God. But if last week we have introduced the ideological framework – the duty to commit the Mitzvot (orders of God) in order for God to treat you as a part of the Chosen People – this week the discussion moves to the realm of actual implementation, or compliance as it is sometimes called in legal circle. And what does the Portion have to say on compliance? Two very important things: First, everyone can do it. Second, you have to do it. Sounds confusing? Let us approach the text, which is one of the most wonderful ever written.

Anyone Can Do It

After concluding that in order to stand before God we should properly follow his ordinances, the question arise: What if I can’t do it? What if the Torah is so lofty, so complicated, so divine that the question of what to do and how to do it is simply beyond me? The text’s answer is concise and beautiful:

Deut. 30:11-13:

(11) Surely, this Instruction (Mitzvah) which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. (12) It is not in the heavens, that you should say “who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it”? (13) Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say “who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?”

Indeed, I personally always liked to hear that the Torah “is not in the heavens” (“Lo Ba’sha’ma’yim hee”). I think this is a direct message from the text to everyone who is interested in reading it. And although through the years, hundreds and thousands of years, there were always people and institutions who insisted that they should stand between the reader and the text, pretending that they alone knew what the text really means, or what it really instruct us to do, it was always very comforting to me to return to the text itself and to find this beautiful phrasing – “it is not in the heavens.” Note that the text does not stop there: For fear that other self-proclaimed experts would instruct us that “not in the heavens” means something else than it really does, the text continues: no one should “import it to us,” no one should “ascend to the heavens” or “cross to the other side” in order to really understand what it means. As written in the Passover Hagadah (in Aramaic, no less) – all that want may come in and feast. And boy, is that a happy meal…

Choose Life

The second point – after we established that we can all approach the text – is what to do next. Again, the text could not be clearer, or more beautiful in describing one of the great philosophical puzzles of all times – that of choice or lack thereof; that of free will versus determinism. And the text reads:

Deut. 30:15-20

(15) See, I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversary. (16) For I command you this day to love the Lord your God, to walk in his ways, and to keep His commandments, His laws, and His rules, that you may thrive and increase … (19) I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse, and you choose life, for you and your offspring shall live.”

This great decree – “And you [should always] choose life” – is one of deepest ever provided to us by the Torah. Even devoid of context, it requires that always, between two options, every one of us should opt for “life,” for the option that represents viability, optimism, and hope over death, cynicism, and hopelessness. But considering the context, here the choice is even deeper: It is God who put before each of us the option of “life and prosperity, death and adversary.” We can always choose one over the other – we have the power to do so; but if we are observant Jews, if we choose to be committed to our end of the bargain with God, then we must follow him and choose life. Choose the life of fulfillment, not only of the Mitzvot (religious decrees), but of your own life as you see it – because there is no meaning to life, unless you really choose to live your life in a meaningful way. And you should choose life.

Shabat Shalom.

Parshat Ki Tavo - Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8

"And when you have arrived ["ki-tavo"] to the Land that the Lord your God has given you..." Thus opens one of the last, and most exciting Portions of the Week. Hello everyone, my name is Doron and this blog will try to provide a glimpse -- a rational, textual glimpse -- into each week's Portion of the Week according to the Jewish calendar. This week we stand several short weeks prior to the High Holidays, a wonderful period culminating with Simchat-Torah -- a unique holiday marking the end of the complete cycle of the Portions of the Week.

And so, these last five portions can be seen as somewhat of a summary -- a philosophical summary, if you will -- of the relationships between the Children of Israel, the Chosen People (a term we shall address shortly) and their Lord God.

Other than some very familiar textual hints [Deut. 26:5-8, for example, is included in the Passover Hagadah; Deut. 26:16 & 28:1 are variations on a theme of the "Shmah Israel" prayer; Deut. 27:15-16 verses are variations on a theme of the Second and Fourth Commandments, etc.], the Ki Tavo Portion includes two key verses spoken by Moses to his People:

Deut. 26:17-18:

"(17) You have affirmed* this day that the Lord is your God, that you will walk in His ways, that you will observe His laws and commandments and rules, and that you will obey Him. (18) And the Lord has affirmed* this day that you are, as He promised you, His treasured people who shall observe all His commandments.”

Before we dive into the very deep meaning of these short verses, a word about the translation: I added an astrix (*) near the translation [provided here by JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh, 2d ed. 1999] of the word “affirmed,” as the Hebrew original – "Hae-ae-mar-tah" – is so unique, it can easily be labeled untranslatable. And while the English translation here does succinctly mention in a footnote that “exact nuance of Hebrew uncertain,” the truth of the matter is that here is the only place where this word – appearing twice, one right after the other – ever appears in the entire twenty-four books of the Tanakh. I will not enter the great debate of the exact meaning of the word, or the multiple translational options available here; I will mention, however, that “you have chosen to declare” seems to me more appropriate than the “you have affirmed” used here. Note that the term is used both for “you,” the member of the Chosen People, and for “the Lord” himself. This, too, should provide us with an interpretational clue.

Back to the text. The late Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz, one of the greatest Jewish philosophers of our times and an ardent follower of the Rambam (Maimonides), poses the great question: What is the relation between the first part of this section – about the People who chose to have the Lord as their God, and the second part – about the Lord who chose this People to be His? What is the relation between the People’s declaration and God’s declaration? Is this a relation of cause and effect (that is, because the People of Israel have chosen God, He has chosen them back)? Or a reverse cause and effect (that is, because God has chosen the People of Israel, they have chosen him back)? Or maybe these are merely parallel, co-incidental occurrences? (look! The People of Israel have chosen the Lord, and, by mere chance, He has decided to choose them as well!).

Loyal to his method, Leibowitz repudiates each of these possibilities. Yet he puzzles over these two short verses. Why is the text so explicit about these two parties to the transaction? How deep is the connection between the People’s choice to have God as the Lord, and God’s choice to have the Jews as his People?

His answer is quite surprising. According to Leibowitz, these two verses represent but one idea. They are actually two sides of one equation. And that equation, in turn, represents the fulcrum on which both Leibowitz and the Rambam build their very impressive philosophical structure: That the essence of the Jewish belief in God is the observance and keeping of the Miztvot – the Torah’s laws and commandments as delivered by God.

This is, of course, a very controversial conclusion, especially in a time and place where keeping the Mitzvot is far from being at the forefront of the leading Jewish movements.

Still, let us look at these verses again, this time through the Leibowitzian prizm: Part one deals with the People of Israel. They have chosen to declare that they accept the Lord as their God. But how would they accept Him as their Lord? And here is the thrust: by “walk[ing] in His ways”; by “observ[ing] His laws and commandments and rules,”; and by “obey[ing] Him.”

And God? What about Him? He, too, has chosen to declare that the Jews are His “treasured People” [“Ah-m S-gulah,” a beautiful Hebrew term], but in what way? In that they “shall observe all His commandments.”

So it is only in that way that we, the Jewish People are unique: In the sense that we have been chosen to observe all the Jewish laws, and that we have accepted our obligation to do so. In that, and in that alone, we are superior – in the eyes of God – to all other people. This is the simpler explanation of the next verse, which reads: “and that He will set you, in fame and renown and glory, high above all the nation that he has made; and that you shall be, as He promised, a holy people to the Lord your God.” Here, the “fame and glory” are not of the “American Idol” kind, but rather of the religious kind: the heavenly fame and glory that comes from the personal knowledge that you are a part of the People – the “holy people” – that observes God’s laws.

And therein lies the two most important lessons of this Week’s Portion: First, if you as a Jewish person do not observe God’s laws, don’t be so sure He will keep His end of the bargain towards you. Second, and most importantly, there is nothing inherent in us, the Jewish People, as being superior to other people. The only thing in which we may be superior is by obeying God’s laws. If we do that, and only to the extent we do that, then God – and no one else – shall consider us to be the Chosen (or superior) People. This should contrast many a notion widespread in Jewish circles that we are inherently unique, or superior to other nations just by virtue of being Jewish. That is not the case. We are only unique in the option we are given to observe God’s laws; and we are only unique to Him if we do so. And that is key in understanding our place in the world.

Shabat Shalom.