Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Nitzavim 5775
A Holy Collective
As Moshe prepares to
leave the stage of Jewish history, he invokes a covenant between God and the Jewish
People. This is neither the first nor the only time a covenant is discussed,
but here in Parashat Nitzavim Moshe introduces an element never clearly stated
before:
I am not forging this
covenant and this oath with you alone; I am creating this bond with those of
you who are standing here with us today before God, as well as those who are
not here with us today. (Dvarim 29:13-14)
The covenant includes all
those who were present at that time, but so much more: This is a
trans-generational covenant. All future generations are bound by this agreement
as if they themselves had stood on the eastern shore of the Jordan River and
heard Moshe’s parting speech, as if they had witnessed the forming of the
covenantal community with their own eyes, as if they themselves had signed, as
it were, on the dotted line. This is not a particularly strange feature of the
agreement: Individuals often find themselves subject to agreements in which
they were not active participants. Governments, corporations and individuals
often make pacts that obligate others. Nonetheless, this particular agreement
has profound ramifications, for it creates a new entity, a new concept: The
Jewish People.
The Nation of Israel
consists of the sum total of all Jews in the world, but not merely the sum
total of all living Jews. The Jewish Nation is an aggregate that includes all
Jews who have ever or will ever live. The covenant forged before Moshe’s death
specifically includes future generations as well, and, by extension, applies
not only to the covenant itself, but to all of the intellectual, spiritual and
physical assets that the covenant accrues. The Land of Israel, then, is given
to the collective People of Israel, and not only to those who were present when
it was promised to them or even those who actively participated in the
conquest. Each generation is therefore considered caretakers, not owners; the
Land of Israel is the property, the birthright, the inheritance of the entire
trans-generational collective. Similarly, the Torah was entrusted to those who
stood at Mount Sinai, but it “belongs” to all of Israel. It is the spiritual
birthright of each and every member of the collective. A teacher who refuses to
teach Torah to any Jewish student is, in fact, withholding the rightful
inheritance of an heir, denying the rightful owner of this intellectual and
spiritual treasure access to what is theirs. Every teacher is an executor of a
spiritual estate, and each and every teacher must see to it that the heirs - who
may not be aware of their rights or may be incapable of fully appreciating the
value of their inheritance- receive and cherish what is legally theirs.
There is, however,
another side to this covenantal relationship. Because each and every Jew is a
part of this larger collective, mutual responsibility is its unavoidable
result; this is one of the most well-known aspects of Judaism. However, we
might not have been aware of the scope of this mutual responsibility: Just as
the covenant spans all past and future generations, so, too, does our
responsibility for one another. A Talmudic passage illustrates this point: Tractate
Rosh Hashanah (32b) records a tradition that the angels complained to God that on
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur the Jews do not sing the hymns of praise that make
up the Hallel Prayer. God Himself came to the Israelites’ defense, explaining that
these are days of judgment, during which “the books of the living and the books
of the dead are opened” before Him, making this an inappropriate time for songs
of thanksgiving, joy and praise. Interestingly, the text does not refer to the
more familiar “Books of Life and Death,” or the heavenly ledgers in which all
human deeds are recorded and counted on these fateful days of judgment.
Instead, the books of those “living and dead” are opened. Surely, the book of the living must be opened
in order to judge each person according to their deeds and merits, but why, we
might ask, is the book of those who have passed on from the mortal world opened
as well? Surely they are beyond judgment! Not so, we are taught: During the
Days of Awe, the dead – even those who died long ago - are judged, not for
their actions during the passing year, but for the impact they have had on the
world they left behind.
Here, then, is the trans-generational covenant of mutual
responsibility in action: The actions of the present generation impact the
judgment that is handed down regarding those who came before them. By their
actions, the living have the power to give new meaning to the lives of members
of the community who came before them, to transform and elevate their legacy in
this world and their spiritual existence in the world beyond our own.
At this time of year, as we are ponder the power of teshuva (repentance) to change the past,
to turn our mistakes or transgressions into positive growth experiences, we
should also consider the impact we might have on the more distant past. On a
personal level, teshuva is both
liberating and redemptive. It allows us to make a clean break, to free
ourselves from the stain that we have inflicted on our own souls. Mistakes can
be corrected; lessons can be learned. We can change our own past, and be energized
and elevated by our newfound relationship with God. At times, the sin that is
truly and wholeheartedly repented can become the strongest part of a person’s religious identify. This may be
compared to a rope that is severed, and rejoined by a tight knot that becomes the
strongest part of the entire rope. Moreover, the knotted rope, a metaphor for
the relationship between man and God, is now shorter than before; the distance
between man and God has become smaller. The sin and subsequent teshuva bring man closer to God than he
was before.
The lesson of Parashat Nitzavim, though, goes even further
than this personal bond with God, for we now understand that the
trans-generational nature of the covenant allows us to share in the redemption
of past generations as well. By upholding the covenant, we build our own
relationship with God, while at the same time we impact the generations that
preceded us in the covenantal community. We can give meaning to the sacrifices
made by our ancestors, or redeem the opportunities that our predecessors may
have missed. We can be inspired by positive deeds of relatives who may otherwise
have been forgotten, and bring the collective Jewish people closer to God and
closer to realizing our glorious shared destiny. Such is the nature of this
covenant; such is the nature of the Jewish People.
For
a more in-depth analysis see:
http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2015/09/parshat-nitzavim-and-rosh-hashana-audio.htmlhttp://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2015/09/parshat-nitzavim-and-rosh-hashana-audio.html
