Parshas Ki Savo - A thought on the first Rashi

“When it happens that you come to the land that the Lord, your God, is giving you as territory and you inherit it and settle it.”

~ Devarim 26:1

When it happens that you come … and you inherit and settle it. This teaches that they were not obligated to bring the first fruits until they conquered the land and apportioned it.

~ Rashi on Devarim 26:1

Rabbi Avrohom Davis explains that we understand from Rashi’s comment that before the Jewish people finished their conquest and division of the land of Israel, Jews could eat the fruits and vegetables grown there without first bringing first fruits to Jerusalem.

How do we think the Jews of that era viewed their ‘freedom’ from the mitzvah of first fruits, during the interim period? They would have been well aware of the commandment to bring first fruits to Jerusalem, reiterated in this week’s parsha, and would know that the rule was only applicable after the conquest of Canaan was complete.

Perhaps some Jews at that time found the produce sweeter, because it came with fewer restrictions than (they knew) would apply later. Perhaps other Jews ate the fruit yet quietly pined for the conquest to be complete, so they could fully celebrate the bounty of the land by sanctifying a portion to thank God for His great kindnesses.

 

Which attitude do you relate to best? Are you quite comfortable when something happens and you are ‘free’ of certain restrictions in Jewish life? A great example of this, suggested by my teacher Rabbi Eli Reisman, would be when it rains on Succos and you are compelled to eat indoors; Are you quietly (or not so quietly) relieved? Or are you more akin to the almost-Bar Mitzvah boy, who (according to custom) starts putting on his teffilin weeks in advance of the big day, to show his eagerness for the mitzvah yet to arrive?

Parshas BaMidbar - thoughts on the first Rashi

"And God spoke Moshe in the Sinai desert, in the Tent of Meeting, on the first (day) of the second month, in the second year of their exodus from the land of Egypt, saying: Take a head count of the entire congregation of Bnei Yisroel according to their families to the house of their fathers, counting the names of all males individually."
BaMidbar 1:1-2

Rashi comments on the first verse that because the Jewish people are precious to Him, He counts them all the time. Rabbi Avrohom Davis notes that two of the times God counted the Jewish people were only a month apart - on the day the Mishkon (sanctuary) was set up, the first of Nissan, and then again on the first of Iyar. He cites the Gur Aryeh who says that after the Divine Presence had resided among the Jewish people for a month, it was considered a permanent resident so God saw it fit to count the people again.

This Rashi, with its elucidation, brings to mind the moments I will reflect, at the conclusion of Succot, and search myself to assess what impact the chaggim had on me. The high holiday season is only about a month long but if I was focused and fortunate, those four weeks had a distinct impact.

The challenge, I think, is to identify other occasions throughout the year that prompt me to pine for God's presence in my life. And when those occasions conclude, I must take an internal accounting and see if I made good use of these periods.

Parshas Behar-Behukosai: Thoughts on the first Rashi

“And God spoke to Moshe on Mount Sinai, saying: Speak to Bnei Yisrael and say to them, when you come to the land which I give you, the land shall be at rest – a Shabbos for God.”

~ VaYikra, 25:1-2.

On Mount Sinai. What has the matter of the Sabbatical year to do with Mount Sinai? Were not all the commandments stated at Sinai? Rather, this comes to teach that just as shemittah (the Sabbatical years), its general rules, details, and specifications were said at Sinai, so too all the mitzvos including their general rules and specifics.

~ Rashi, on VaYikra, 25:1

Rabbi Avrohom Davis explains, in his footnotes on this Rashi, that it refers to a dispute in the Gemara (Chagigah 6a). Rabbi Yishmoel asserts that only general rules were given at Sinai and the details were presented in the Tent of Meeting. Rabbi Akiva asserts that both the general rules and the specifics were given at Sinai, repeated in the Tent of Meeting, and reiterated on the Plains of Moab. Rashi’s comment shows that he agrees with Rabbi Akiva.

This Talmudic dispute raises a pressing, related question for us: How much detail should a leader present to his/her followers when advancing new policies or actions? There's one school of thought that states that it’s more realistic to let people first absorb new concepts as broad ideas and then follow up with details later, as needed. A contrary approach, however, states that providing new concepts and sufficient (but not overwhelming) detail will help dispel anxiety and uncertainty, allowing for more expeditious actions by the people implementing the new policies.

To be sure, whichever view someone adopts will reflect the nature of the audience, the era, and the policies to be implemented. But it also will reflect heavily on the character of the leader who is weighing both options. And in our parsha at least, the ultimate leader – God – decided clearly that when it came to the mitzvah of letting the land rest for Sabbatical years, the Jewish people needed both principles and details upfront.

Parshas Emor and its first Rashi: Parental imperatives

“And God spoke to Moshe: Speak (Emor) to the Kohanim [priests], the sons of Aharon, and you shall say (VeAmarta) to them, that they shall not defile themselves by coming into contact with a dead person among the people.”

- VaYikra 21:1

Speak to the Kohanim. Speak? And you shall say? The Torah uses this language to warn the adults regarding the minors.

~ Rashi on Vayikra 21:1

 

Rabbi Avrohom Davis, a commentator on Rashi, explains that Rashi’s initial question on this verse is on the repeated use of the verb form ‘to say,’ which is used in other places to indicate details of a general command. Rabbi Davis goes on to state that, in answer to the dilemma he raised, Rashi points to a discussion on this verse in Gemara Yevamos [114a], that concerns a dispute on the level of a parent’s responsibility to keep a child away from impurity. Some say a parent must do whatever they can to keep a child away from impurity while others say a parent is merely obligated to not directly cause the child to become impure. Rashi appears to agree with the latter, less stringent view.

This line of discussion raises, for all Jewishly observant parents in our era, a question of great importance – to what extent are we responsible to steer our children away from actions, attitudes, and ideas that are detrimental to a healthy commitment to a Torah lifestyle?  For Jews living in insular homogeneous communities like Boro Park, Monsey, and Lakewood, the answer may be easier to define and implement – they could say that a parent should shut out all possible sources of negative influence. And thus many people in those communities will severely limit or forbid contact with non-Jewish neighbors and coworkers, use of the Internet, viewing of television, and other forms of contact with the outside world.

For those of us who ascribe to the Modern Orthodox worldview, who see it as not merely an allowance but an obligation to thoughtfully synthesize the best aspects of the broader world with the highest ideals of our Mesorah (heritage), our challenge as parents is arguably much greater and, at the same time, much murkier. How do we teach our children to use the Internet but not become preoccupied with or inured to pornography, immodesty, useless gossip, violence, and other pitfalls of the medium? How do we guide them to form respectful and constructive relationships with college classmates and coworkers, and to even learn from them (when appropriate), while also fully maintaining their fealty to Torah values? What movies and TV shows are, so to speak, kosher and which are certainly treif? And how do we navigate these vexing questions with our children while also building their hashkafic problem-solving skills and their self-esteem?

The questions of how best to interact with the outside world are not easily answered in our own adult lives; applying them as parents is doubly challenging. And yet it is a challenge we must engage in consistently and mindfully.    

Parshas Tzav – A thought on the first Rashi

“And Adonoy spoke to Moshe, saying: Command Aharon and his sons, saying: This is the law of the burnt offering. It is the burnt offering [which remains] on its pyre on the altar all night, until the morning, and the fire on the altar will be kept burning on it.”

~ VaYikra 6:1-2

Command Aharon. There is no [use of the expression] Tzav [in English, ‘command’] except when there is a sense of urging, immediately and for future generations. Rabbi Shimon said: It is all the more necessary for the Torah to urge [the fulfillment of a command] when it involves monetary loss.

~ Rashi on VaYikra 6:1-2

In his footnotes on this Rashi, Rabbi Avrohom Davis explains that (according to Rashi) HaShem employed the word Tzav, denoting a particular imperative, in recognition that the Kohanim did not receive any meat from the burnt offering, only the skin. In light of the fact that their service in this regard resulted in little benefit, they needed a distinct prompting.

People feel a willingness to give in different ways. Some are more comfortable sharing their money, others freely give their time, while still others more readily share their attention or feelings with their friends, family, and neighbors. While in this week’s parsha the word 'Tzav' is very directed and specific, the message can be applied more broadly – when a mitzvah opportunity presents itself, and you have the means to do it, yet it falls out of your comfort area of ‘giving’... consider seriously if you are facing your own personal ‘Tzav’ moment.

Parshas Veira - Thoughts on the first Rashi

In last week’s parsha, Moshe first appeared (as God’s agent) before Pharoh and asked him to release the Jews from slavery. Pharoh refused and, to demonstrate his power, increased the severity of their work. Moshe appealed to God: “My Master, why have you brought harm to this people? Why did you send me? Ever since I came to Pharoh, he has done harm to this people and You have not rescued your people.” (Shemos 5:22-23). God begins to answer Moshe and continues his reply in this week’s parsha.

“Elohim spoke to Moshe and said to him: I am Adonoy.”

Shemos 6:2

Elohim spoke to Moshe. He (God) spoke to him with severity for he (Moshe) had spoken harshly, saying: Why have you brought harm to this nation?”

Rashi on Shemos 6:2

Rabbi Avrohom Davis, in his translation and elucidation of Rashi, notes that the name Elohim denotes God’s attribute of strict justice and the word used for ‘spoke,’ VaYiDaBear, indicates a harsh tone. So we have God manifesting Himself in exacting judgment and speaking firmly with Moshe.

Isn’t it odd, then, that the first thing God says in such a serious tone is: I am Adonoy – since the name of Adonoy denotes mercy, the opposite of strict justice! What do we make of this?

It appears to me that, while God had to clarify to Moshe at this point His merciful attitude towards the Jewish people (despite evidence to the contrary), He also saw the need to subtly rebuke Moshe for his approach to God. A message we can take away from this perplexing juxtaposition of God’s names is that no matter the justice of any appeal we make to God, His approach in responding to us may well reflect the tone, the intensity, and the sincerity of our own prayer. Our prayers may still be answered but the answer may well be sweeter, and more pleasant, if we appeal to God with faith and deference.

Parshas Korach - leadership optional?

Rashi, in his comments on the beginnings of Korach’s rebellion, cites a story from Midrash Tanchuma. As the story goes, Korach and his followers all put on garments made entirely of techeiles (the blue dye used to color one of the fringes in Tzizit) and went to Moshe. They asked: “If a four-cornered garment is made entirely of techeiles, does it require fringes with a string dyed in techeiles?” Moshe replied that such a garment still required the addition of fringes with one thread of techeiles. Korach and his followers then mocked Moshe, saying that surely a garment made entirely of techeiles should be holy enough.

The midrash continues: Korach and his followers then filled a house with Torah scrolls and asked Moshe if the house required a mezuzah. He told them that the house still needed a mezuzah and the rebels mocked him, saying that the presence of all the scrolls makes the mezuzah superfluous.

What is going on in this midrash? In his notes on Rashi, Rabbi Avrohom Davis suggests that this midrash offers a colorful illustration of one of Korach’s primary challenges to Moshe and Aaron’s leadership of the people. In both cases in the midrash, the question the rebels posed was:  Does the addition of one small significant article truly change the status of a larger entity, if that entity is already suffused in holiness? The analogies of the midrash reflected the rebels’ bold philosophical argument, that since all the people heard God’s voice at Sinai, and were thus spiritually elevated, they did not need Moshe and Aaron to serve as teachers and guides.

Moshe effectively disproved the argument of Korach and his followers with the assistance of an unprecedented miracle - the ground opened up on cue and swallowed all the rebels (Number 16:28-35). Yet Korach’s argument, that Jewish leadership is often irrelevant, is one that periodically reemerges. On occasion we encounter Jews who resent the demands of religious life and, as a means of justifying their lethargy, they will grouse openly with their friends about the wisdom or authority of their rabbis. Our modern day religious leaders cannot summon mini-earthquakes, so they are unable to easily dispatch their detractors. But in my experience, those who are not able to find a constructive way to work within their religious community are often ‘swallowed up’ in their grievances and find themselves isolated just the same.

Parshas Beha’aloscha – first things first

In the middle of Parshas Beha’aloscha we encounter a phrase that identifies, with great specificity, when God presented a particular law to Moshe: “Adonoy spoke with Moshe in the desert of Sinai in the second year of their going out of the land of Egypt, in the first month, saying: The children of Israel shall perform the Passover sacrifice in it’s proper time…” (Numbers 9:1-2). One reason this identifying phrase is so striking is that it parallels another phrase, at the very start of the book of Bamidbar/Numbers: “And Adonoy spoke to Moshe in the Sinai desert, in the Tent of Meeting, on the first day of the second month, in the second year of their going out of Egypt, saying: Take a census …” (Number 1:1-2). One difference between the two identifiers is that the law in this week’s parsha was actually presented earlier, despite the fact this it is recorded eight chapters later.

Rashi notes in his commentary on this parsha that this unusual ordering of the commands teaches us an important principle: SheAin Seder MookDam OoMeh-OoChar BaTorah – There is no order of precedence or succession in the Torah. Put another way, we are not to assume that the Torah is always presented in a perfectly linear manner; rather, God arranged the Torah in a certain way so as to establish a number of important associations, at the expense occasionally of chronology.

One might ask: why was the injunction in this week’s Torah portion listed out of its chronological order? Rashi suggests that this was done to spare the children of Israel shame, because this was the only time they performed the Passover sacrifice in the 40 years they spent in the desert. With the aid of footnotes on Rashi by Rabbi Avrohom Davis we learn that God only commanded the Jewish people to bring the Passover sacrifice this one time, before they entered the Land Of Israel. God’s intention was that the Jews would proceed into the Land of Israel shortly after the giving of the Torah. Instead, the sin of the episode of the spies occurred, leading to a forty-year delay. To lessen the embarrassment that might arise through attention to the mitzvah of the Passover sacrifice - that the Jewish people lost for 40 years - might bring about, God reordered the chapters in Numbers.

One way we can apply the lesson of this out-of-synch injunction in our own lives is to consider how we approach a situation if we need to share with a loved one an instance where they acted in an unappealing manner. Do we quickly raise the indelicate matter, in the hope perhaps that candor and directness will lead to an apology or changed behavior? Or do we act more considerately (and with more emotional intelligence), by first discussing a few instances where our loved acted in a praiseworthy fashion and only then broaching the problematic episode? If we model ourselves after the way God structured the Book of Numbers, we forsake forthrightness and embrace a broader view of those we love, even in difficult moments.