Writings
The Echoes of Eden Project
Non-Prophets
Eat To Your Heart's Desire
In the Eyes of God and Man
A Blessing and a Curse
audio:
A Blessing and a Curse - Choose Life
A Battle as old as History
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Parashat Ekev 5775 Rain
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Ekev 5775
Rain
This past week was a
difficult one here in Israel. There were two separate incidents of murder and
attempted murder: First, a man who, based on his external dress, could be
called an orthodox, or even ultra- orthodox Jew, attacked other Jews in the
center of Jerusalem. Second, an Arab family was attacked, resulting in the
death of their youngest child, a toddler named Ali; although the investigation
is still underway, the evidence appears to indicate that the perpetrator or
perpetrators are, again, “observant” Jews. In both cases, the victims of this
unthinkable violence were the very members of society who often feel most
persecuted and vulnerable: the gay community on the one hand, and the Arab
community on the other.
For two thousand years,
Jews have endured one particular challenge in almost every corner of the globe:
They have lived as a persecuted minority. With the establishment of the State
of Israel, a new challenge emerged: Suddenly, for the first time in millennia, we
have been forced to grapple with the challenge of being in charge, of being the
majority. So many long-forgotten issues arose with the re-establishment of
Jewish sovereignty: How will minority groups be treated in the Jewish State?
How will those who are “different” be made to feel? Will we protect those “others”
– the disenfranchised, the outsiders, or will we make them feel vulnerable?
Although this week’s parashah does not address this topic
directly, we may gain insight into the Jewish approach to communal life through
Moshe’s final lessons to the Jews as they prepare to enter the Land. Moshe
speaks about the need to obey the word of God, to obey the commandments. The
consequence of disobedience, he warns them, is lack of rain. (Dvarim 11:16,17) Conversely,
if the people follow the will of God, we are assured that rain will fall in the
proper quantity and season; economic success is insured. (Dvarim 11:13-15)
What is clear from this
section is that the resulting prosperity is collective, and not individual. The
rain will not fall only on my crops while my neighbor’s field suffers from
drought. The experience of living in a country – especially our country, the Land
of Israel, which has a particularly sensitive spiritual constitution - is one
of collective economic destiny. Famine, as well as plenty, is a shared reality,
and is the result of the behavior of the collective.
There are those who would
argue that precisely because of this shared destiny, the religiously sensitive
person must step up, take the law into his or her own hands, and insure that
the Torah’s commandments are obeyed and enforced. This approach leads to
vigilantism of the type we have been subjected to this past week, and it is anathema
to Judaism.
From the dawn of our
history, Judaism has abhorred murder. The seven Noachide laws (Bereishit 9:5,6)
applied to Jews before the covenant at Sinai, and the Ten Commandments include
the prohibition of murder (Sh’mot 20:13). Rambam (Maimonides) describes why the
taking of a life is considered so severe:
Although there are
other sins that are more serious than murder, they do not present as serious a
danger to society as murder does. Even idol worship - and needless to say, sexual
sins or the violation of the Sabbath - are not considered as severe
as murder, for these other sins involve man's relationship with God, while
murder also involves man's relationship with his fellow man.
Whoever commits this
sin is an utterly wicked person. All the mitzvot that he performs throughout his lifetime cannot
outweigh this sin or save him from judgment. (Laws of Murder and Preservation
of Live chapter 4 law 9)
The sin of murder
eclipses any good deeds the murderer has done or will do in the future. Thus, a
person dressed in “religious garb” who commits murder – is simply a murderer in
religious garb, no more and no less. Neither the choice of clothing nor any
other religious behavior or affectation will save him or her when the time
comes to stand before God and be judged. A murderer may clothe himself in any
fashion he chooses, but he is naked in terms of spirituality.
According to Rambam,
murder is the most terrible sin precisely because it poses the gravest threat
to human society. Taking another person’s life (other than cases of self-
defense) - no matter who they are or what you believe them to be guilty of - causes
the delicate fabric of society to unravel.[1] Murder
pollutes the collective, undermines society at its most basic level – and makes
prosperity impossible for each and every individual as well as for society as a
whole.
For
a more in-depth analysis see:
[1]
Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk (1843-1926), in his commentary to the Torah Meshech Chochma(Shmot 21:14), opines
that the killing of a non-Jew is even worse than the killing of a Jew.
Essays and Audio Parashat Ekev
Essays and Audio Parashat
Ekev
The Echoes of Eden
Project
Parashat Ekev 5775 -Rain
Essays:
With All Your Hearts and
All Your Souls
The Little Things
with
Hebrew notes –
http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2010/07/parshat-ekev-5770-little-things.html
Walking Together With God
with
Hebrew notes –
http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2009/08/parshat-ekev-5769.html
Reward and Punishment
Audio
Parshat Ekev / God
Consciousness
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Parashat Va’etchanan 5775 The Crucible
Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Va’etchanan
5775
The Crucible
The great tragedy of Moshe’s life was the fact that he did not complete his mission; he
would not bring the people to the Promised Land. In fact, we might say that
this is actually two tragedies: On a personal level, it is almost inconceivable
that Moshe, our greatest leader and teacher, our staunchest defender and most
dedicated shepherd, would not see the Land of Israel up close, not be forgiven
and allowed to reap the rewards of his years of unflinching dedication. On the
other hand, Moshe’s
fate symbolizes a national tragedy: The entire generation that had experienced
the wonders of the Exodus, the splitting of the sea, the Revelation at Mount
Sinai and so much more, would also perish in the desert. The land will be inherited
and enjoyed by their children.
Moshe begs to see the land. God understands precisely what
it is that Moshe prays for, and although He commands Moshe to desist from
further entreaties, God does, in fact, fulfill Moshe’s prayer in a very literal sense.
Moshe is allowed to climb to a mountaintop vantage point and “see the land,” - but only from afar.
As Moshe continues his speech to the young generation who
will soon go where he is not permitted to tread, it becomes painfully obvious to
them that Moshe will not be joining them for the final leg of the journey. He
takes this last opportunity to warn them about the consequences of idolatry,
and pleads with them to keep the commandments in order to insure that the
inheritance they are about to receive not be forfeited.
We may wonder how Moshe’s final words were received by this young, eager
generation. Did they find it incongruous that Moshe, the greatest man they had
ever known, the man who now stands before them and exhorts them about right and
wrong, sin and its punishment, will himself be banned from entering the Land?
Were they perhaps intimidated by the knowledge that even Moshe, who was the
greatest prophet who ever lived, was unable to live up to God’s standards? Were they disheartened
by the thought that if Moshe had fallen short, it seemed impossible that any
mortal could succeed?
Apparently, Moshe was sensitive to these unspoken doubts
and ruminations. As he begins his final series of lectures, he describes his
personal predicament in very particular language, using an unusual turn of
phrase that may give us a glimpse of his frame of mind and allow us to share
his perspective. While other nations may worship the sun and moon and stars, he
explains, the Jewish People is different. “But you, God Himself took, and He brought you out of the
iron crucible that was Egypt, so that you would be His heritage nation, as you
are today.”
(Devarim 4:20) While the image of the
fiery crucible has captured the imagination of many commentaries and remains an
enduring metaphor throughout Jewish history, Moshe may have had a very
particular idea in mind when he first coined the phrase.
Rashi’s
comments on this verse are terse; he explains that the crucible reference means
that the Jews are like gold, but does not elaborate. Two 19th
century scholars explained this passage at length, coming to widely divergent
conclusions: Rabbi Yaakov Zvi Meklenberg (1785-1865) refers to the process of
smelting in which metals are purified of dross, and explains that the period of
enslavement in Egypt had the same purpose: The Jews were subjected to a painful
process that rid them of those who were unworthy, in order to allow them to
meet their destiny unencumbered by those who would hold them back. This human
dross would have fomented even more unrest and rebellion, and would have been
unwilling and unable to receive the Torah or to fulfill the covenant they would
undertake as a nation.
Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) had a very different
approach. Rather than intimating that there were impurities in the Jewish
nation that had to be “burned
off”
in the fiery furnace of Egyptian slavery, Rabbi Hirsch saw the crucible as an
experience that gave strength and polish to the morals of the newly-emerging
nation. The fires destroyed everything that had been before, allowed the Jews
to distill their essential qualities and hone their identity. It is this view
of the crucible that may allow us to understand Moshe’s words: His reference to the crucible
is his attempt to point out one of the defining characteristics of Jewish
nationhood. We are a people with a great capacity to suffer because we have a
profound ability to see the long-term repercussions of our actions. Our enslavement
in Egypt had not come as a surprise; not only was it foretold to Avraham, it
was willingly accepted by him and his descendants as part of a long-term
covenant. Avraham’s
children would inherit the Land of Israel, they would become a covenantal
community and enjoy a unique relationship with God - - but only after 400 years
of exile, hardship and slavery. Yaakov accepted this birthright with all its
conditions; he and his children, the very core of the Jewish People, were
willing to suffer in the “short
term”
in order to achieve the long-term “payoff.” Only a people with complete faith in the future, only
those who are willing to postpone gratification in favor of a much greater
spiritual destiny, are capable of accepting a covenant of this kind.
Long before Nietzsche’s Twighlight of the
Idols, Moshe reminded us that the crucible of Egypt and the experience of
slavery did not break us, did not eradicate us as a family or as a covenantal
community, did not corrupt our morals; it not only made us stronger, it made us
who we are. As he stands at the borders of the Promised Land but is denied
entrance, Moshe himself is a living example that gratification of personal
desires is far less important to the Jewish ethos than is the larger national destiny.
Moshe is able to accept a world in which he is denied his heart’s desire, he is able to withstand his
personal pain and frustration, because he has complete faith in the future of
the Jewish People and the Word of God.
Moshe’s
message to the nation moves seamlessly from an account of his own personal pain
to an inspiring account of the strength of his beloved people, even in the face
of setbacks that lasted many generations. They have come through the crucible
as a nation and they are gold, they are strong, they have been endowed with
greatness. The suffering and humiliation, even the death of loved ones that
they experienced in the crucible of slavery, has made them stronger, more
united, more determined, as well as more aware of the suffering of others. They
have refined the ability they inherited from their forefathers to take the long
view, to see past the setbacks, even when these have been tragic and extreme.
And now, they must see past the death of their greatest prophet and leader.
Jewish history, Moshe reminds them, is measured in millennia, not in minutes,
and he assures them that they have what it takes to begin the next chapter - just as we, even today, so many generations
and so many setbacks later, have what it takes to march toward the fulfillment
of our glorious destiny.
For
a more in-depth analysis see: http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2015/07/essays-and-audio-vetchanan.html
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