Parashat Ha’azinu – Divine Providence and Human Responsibilty – Redux

כִּי לֹא דָבָר רֵק הוּא מִכֶּם כִּי הוּא חַיֵּיכֶם

Parashat Ha’azinu consists of one chapter of the Torah, Devarim 32, which is itself taken up almost entirely by a song (32:1-43). This song is often referred to as Shirat Haazinu or as the Song of Moshe. The composition and teaching of this song is one of the last things Moshe does before he dies, an event made obvious by the way the song is followed immediately by the command for Moshe to ascend Har Nevo where he will be buried (32:48-52). The song is about the cycle of sin and destruction that reigns throughout Bnei Yisrael’s time in the land of Israel. There is no mention of Exile, nor of Repentance followed by Redemption from Exile[1]; there is simply the conquest of Bnei Yisrael and the comeuppance of the would-be conquerors. This comeuppance is not due to Bnei Yisrael deserving it, but rather a way of protecting ‘א’s Name, that the conquering nation should not think it was responsible for the conquest, instead of ‘א. This section of the song makes statements regarding Divine Providence, which are often troubling to the modern ear. However, careful reading of the song and its context shows that these statements are less about Divine Providence, and more about the imperative nature of taking responsibility.

The Song of Moshe is often compared with the covenant depicted in Devarim 27-30. As stated above, the key difference is that in Shirat Ha’azinu there is no mention of repentance as a cause for redemption. Instead, redemption is depicted as a way of protecting ‘א’s Name (32:26-30).

I would have said, “Let Me wipe them out,

let Me make their name cease among men.”

Had I not feared the foes provocation,

lest their enemies dissemble,

lest they say, “Our had prevailed,

and not the Lord has wrought all this.”

For a nation lost in counsel are they,

there is no understanding among them.

Were they wise they would give mind to this,

understand their latter days:

O how could one chase a thousand,

or two put then thousand to flight,

had not their Rock handed them over,

had the Lord not given them up?

 

The future redemption of Bnei Yisrael is not depicted here as an act of merit, or even as an act of love, rather it is necessary in order to keep the conquering nation from viewing itself as controlling history, when in fact it is ‘א who directs history’s course. This is a typical prophetic point of view, and is something that reappears throughout the Tanakh (as does the idea of Salvation for the Sake of Heaven[2]). ‘א is the God of History, and therefore historical occurrences, especially those involving Bnei Yisrael, are products of direct Divine Providence. However, while this idea was the basis of many a prophetic attempt to inspire Bnei Yisrael to do teshuvah, it can be very problematic in the eyes of the modern reader.

Jewish Thought in the second half of the 20th century and beyond must bear a weight greater than that of any generation that came before it. Many of the explanations regarding the nature of Divine Justice and Providence that have been given throughout Jewish History are no longer workable, and many of those that are need to be reconfigured and rephrased in order for a modern audience to find them compelling. Attempts to justify evil, and the mindless slaughter of innocents as occurred in the 1940’s in particular, have been found to be morally problematic. An action is justified by saying that, while it might otherwise be wrong, it is right because of certain abnormal circumstances. The problem with this idea is that it can be summarized as “X was the right thing to do because of Y,” which can be flipped around and formulated as “If Y, then X is the right thing to do.” The idea that there is any set of circumstances under which a person would endorse, or even condone, genocide is about as immoral a thought pattern as can be imagined[3]. Many modern Jews therefore try to avoid explaining or justifying historical occurrences, as the implications of doing so can be monstrous.

One could argue from the fact that Shirat Haazinu is meant to be “put in the mouths” (31:19) of Bnei Yisrael, that Jews are supposed to attribute tragedies to the Hand of God, as the song does, and this would not be entirely incorrect. To do so, however, would be to miss the point of the song. The song is put in the mouths of Bnei Yisrael, not in order to teach them that ‘א is the Lord of History, though it conveys that idea as well, but in order that it can serve as ‘א’s “witness against the people of Israel” (Ibid). The song is meant to serve as warning to them that violating the covenant that they forged with ‘א will bring suffering upon them, and that ‘א will save them, but through no merit of their own. The song thus puts the responsibility for the suffering of Bnei Yisrael not on ‘א, but squarely on the shoulders of Bnei Yisrael themselves. The song is meant to teach the generations of Israel that live in the land, long after the miracles of the desert, that the proper way to respond to crisis and calamity is by taking responsibility, not shirking it.

This is reinforced by the contrast between Bnei Yisrael and the conquering enemy as depicted in the song. While Bnei Yisrael are depicted as neglecting ‘א and straying after idols, the possibility that they have misattributed an action of ‘א is never raised. The cardinal sin of the enemy, however, is just that, and it is so great that it warrants their destruction and the redemption of Israel. So while the song makes it clear that the success of the enemy really is the work of ‘א (32:26-30), it isn’t necessarily important for Bnei Yisrael to know that, only the enemy. What Bnei Yisrael are meant to take away from the song is that their conquest by the enemy is a direct result of their abandoning and despising ‘א (32:15). The responsibility is being placed totally on Bnei Yisrael.

More than anything else, the Tanakh depicts ‘א’s Providence not as minimizing Human Initiative, but as making it imperative. ‘א guarantees major consequences, good and bad, as a response to the actions of Bnei Yisrael. Therefore, ‘א’s guiding history is not meant to be seen as taking power out of mankind’s hands, but as obligating them to be responsible in the use of said power. A perfect biblical example of such responsibility is found at the very end of Sefer Bereishit, where Yosef asks his brothers, “Am I in place of God?” (Bereishit 50:19)[4]. Yosef goes on to explain that ‘א, not the brothers’ misdeeds, led him to that particular point in history, and therefore it is incumbent upon him to respond to ‘א’s guidance with responsibility. Attempting to explain ‘א’s role in the great events and tragedies of our era diverts attention from what we should really be focusing on. When considering tragedy, it is incumbent upon us not to ask why ‘א did what He did, but to ask what we could have done. Our response needs to be not “Why did this happen?” but “What can we do now?”

Much of the Rosh HaShanah liturgy is dedicated to affirming the Kingship of ‘א, specifically in terms of the historical process. “And the Lord shall be king over all the earth; on that day there shall be one Lord with one name” (Zekhariah 14:9) We stand in prayer and declare that ‘א is King. In doing so, we declare that, as His subjects, we are responsible for our actions. We take it upon ourselves to not shirk our responsibility when confronted by anything that might occur over the next year of our lives. Accepting Judgment on Rosh HaShanah doesn’t mean just that anything that occurs to us in the next year should be thought of as a consequence of our actions, but also that we have taken it upon ourselves to be responsible in the face of anything that comes our way.

[1] For more on this, and the song’s relevance to our lives, see this essay by R’ Elchanan Samet.

[2] I have written at some length about this here.

[3] This isn’t to say that everyone who tries to justify the tragedies of the 20th century would condone or endorse such things a priori, most probably don’t think about the fact that such is the implication of their words.

[4] I have written more about this verse, and the general interplay of Divine Providence and Human Responsibility, here.

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Parashat Vayehi – Divine Providence and Human Responsibility

הֲתַחַת אֱלֹהִים אָנִי

 

Parashat Vayehi records the final moments of the lives of both Yaakov and Yosef. From Yosef’s very first appearance in the Torah, his life and Yaakov’s are intimately connected. His birth signifies to Yaakov that the time has come to leave Aram and the house of Laban (Beraishit 30:25). The beginning of Yosef’s narratives are explicitly part of Yaaakov’s story: “אֵלֶּה תֹּלְדוֹת יַעֲקֹב יוֹסֵף”, “These are the generations of Yaakov; Yosef..[1]” (Beraishit 37:2). Beraishit Rabah (84:6) lists some twenty parallels between their lives, from being born to barren mothers and working as shepherds to living outside the Land of Israel and raising a family there, and that list isn’t even exhaustive. The two characters are so tightly interwoven that one can hardly appreciate one without understanding the other[2].

After Yaakov’s death, Yosef’s brothers come to him to convince him not to kill them (Beraishit 50:15-19). Certain that he only stayed his hand out of respect for their father, they tell Yosef that Yaakov commanded him not to kill them, and offer themselves as his slaves. Yosef responds to them, saying, “אל תִּירָאוּ כִּי הֲתַחַת אֱלֹהִים אָנִי”, “Fear not; for am I in the place of God? ”. This phrase, “הֲתַחַת אֱלֹהִים” shows up exactly one other time in the entire Tanakh.

Rachel, unable to have children, came to Yaakov to say that he must give her a child or she will die (Beraishit 30:1). Yaakov’s anger flares against her and he says, “הֲתַחַת אֱלֹהִים אָנֹכִי אֲשֶׁר מָנַע מִמֵּךְ פְּרִי בָטֶן”, “Am I in God’s stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb?” (Beraishit 30:2). Thus this phrase spans the entirety of Yosef’s life, from before his birth until after his father’s death.

These two uses of the same phrase are similar on the surface, but they have vastly different implications. While both Yaakov and Yosef are saying that ‘א is in control, they have rather opposite intentions. Yosef finds himself in a position of total control over his brothers. He is the Royal Vizier of a country where his brothers are living as guests. Their father, out of respect for whom he kept secret their nigh-murderous actions (Beraishit 37), has died, leaving Yosef free to act with impunity. The time is ripe for his vengeance. Despite all of that, he tells them that he is not in place of ‘א. He is not simply stating that out of humility he will not take revenge, but rather he is making a point about the nature of history and the need for revenge. The brothers are concerned that because they did him wrong, Yosef will respond in kind (Beraishit 50:15, 17). Yosef tells them that they don’t need to fear him because he is not in place of ‘א, and that while they were planning to do evil, ‘א was planning good (Beraishit 50:19-20). Thus he will not be taking vengeance because there is no need; his brothers tried to do something bad, but ‘א’s plan meant that they actually did something good. Regardless of what he, and they, may have thought was best course of events, ‘א is the one who decides what that really is .Yosef sacrifices his sense of entitlement on the altar of ‘א’s control of history.

Yaakov’s situation is totally different. Rachel comes to him asking for him to give her a child, and he lashes out at her, saying that he is not ‘א that she should come to him for a child. Instead of giving up his sense of entitlement, Yaakov gives up his sense of responsibility. He actually says that ‘א is the one withholding children from Rachel (Beraishit 30:2). It’s not Yaakov’s fault, it’s ‘א’s. The Midrash in Beraishit Rabah (71:7) highlights this with a fascinating expansion of their conversation. The midrash depicts Rachel pointing to Yitzchak and Avraham and asking Yaakov why he didn’t act like they did when their wives couldn’t have children. Yaakov deflects the Yitzchak question by saying that he already has children whereas his father didn’t, which leads directly to Rachel mentioning Avraham to her eventually giving of her maidservant to Yaakov as a wife. However, bypassing the question by Yitzchak ignores the whole point of the comparison: Yitzchak tried to help his wife have children, by praying to ‘א on her behalf (Beraishit 25:21), and Yaakov didn’t. While no one would maintain that Yaakov is the one in charge of whether or not Rachel is able to have children, that’s not within his power, the midrash here draws out the point that Yaakov also doesn’t try anything that is within his power. Yaakov points to ‘א’s control because that way it’s not his fault, that way he doesn’t have to take responsibility.

The Tanakh doesn’t put anything outside of ‘א’s power. He created the world and He does miracles. But it just as clearly values human choice and initiative (Devarim 30:19). In no place does it bother to resolve this contradiction, as the Torah is more interested in the way Man lives a life of ‘א than in purposeless philosophizing[3]. That said, its opinion on such matters is still evident from analysis of the experiences it records. In this case, as the midrash indicates, the Tanakh’s opinion is more in line with Yosef than with Yaakov. Yosef locates ‘א’s Providence in the Past. Everything that has happened has been according to the Will of ‘א. Based on this, he makes his choices about the actions he will be taking in the Future. In contrast, Yaakov sees ‘א as being in complete control of the Future, and thus Yaakov’s actions are meaningless. Yaakov doesn’t try to attain a child for Rachel because that’s entirely up to ‘א. And while that isn’t necessarily wrong, it’s not how the Tanakh wants us to live. We are supposed to take responsibility for our actions. In a certain sense, we’re supposed to live as if there is only Divine Providence in the Past, as if ‘א has no stake in the future. The world we live in, all our natural abilities and everything that we have received, these are all things we should see as functions of Divine Providence. But what we do with these thing? That is up to us. We don’t get to say that ‘א will just take care of us, that we don’t have to do our part. The whole concept of the Torah and Mitzvoth being given to Man is based off the idea that ‘א wants us to take certain actions. Leaving it up to ‘א is not an option. “הַכֹּל צָפוּי, וְהָרְשׁוּת נְתוּנָה” (Mishnah Avoth 3:15).

[1] Translations are from mechon-mamre.org

[2] For an understanding of Yosef’s life as a consequence of Yaakov’s theft of the brakha from Esav, and subsequent activites, see Rav Amnon Bazak’s book מקבילות נפגישות, Chapter Sixteen.

[3] The Torah is not Man’s Theology so much as it is God’s Anthropology. ~A.J. Heschel, God In Search Of Man

Parashat Nitsavim-Vayelekh – Following Man vs Following God

הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ

The joint parashot of Nitsavim-Vayelekh begin Moshe’s final farewell to the nation, including a formal covenant, the commandment of Teshuvah, his transferal of leadership to Yehoshua, the commandment of the mitsvah of Hak’hel, and the writing of a Torah scroll to be kept by the Aron. While not the most dramatic or stirring of these events, the appointment of Yehoshua presents us with problematic doublings and contradictions which, when given serious consideration, not only explain or cast new light on various passages in Sefer Devarim and beyond, they also point toward the Torah’s radical conception of leadership and responsibility.

The passage at the beginning of Devarim 31 depicts Moshe telling the people that he will not be leading them any longer, and that Yehoshua will be leading them in his stead. However, that’s not quite what it says.

1 And Moses went and spoke these words to all of Israel. 2 And he said to them: ‘I am a hundred and twenty years old this day; I can no longer go out and come in; and the Lord has said to me: You shall not cross over this Jordan. 3 The Lord your God, He will cross over before you; He will destroy these nations from before you, and you shall dispossess them; and Joshua, he shall cross over before you, as the Lord has spoken.

The first thing that stands out here is that Moshe present’s two reasons for why he will not be leading Bnei Yisrael anymore, (1) that he is too old and therefore physically he is no longer up to the challenge of leadership, and (2) that ‘א has said to him that he shall not cross the Jordan. Either one of these reasons would be sufficient, and certainly once the second has been stated, as it was in Bamidbar 20:12, the first is not only unnecessary but also not quite correct, as ‘א could certainly have strengthened Moshe if he was to continue leading. Moving on from there, we see that in verse three, parallel to these two reasons, there are in fact two leaders. Moshe tells the people that in contrast to himself, their former leader, that the new leader will “cross over before you,” “הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ.” However, he uses this phrase not once but twice, by both ‘א and Yehoshua. Moshe seems to say that his role will be filled by both ‘א and Yehoshua. This is, to say the least, odd, and it requires explanation. This explanation can be found in the appointment of Yehoshua in Bamidbar 27.

The twenty-seventh chapter of Sefer Bamidbar starts with the story of the Daughters of Tselophehad, which is really attached to the census that preceded it, and then begins something new, the question of who will lead after Moshe.

12 And the Lord said to Moses: ‘Ascend Har HaAvarim, and behold the land which I have given to the children of Israel. 13 And when you have seen it, you also shall be gathered to your people, as Aaron your brother was gathered; 14 because you rebelled against My commandment in the wilderness of Zin, in the strife of the congregation, to sanctify Me at the waters before their eyes.’–These are the waters of Merivat-Kadesh in the wilderness of Zin. 15 And Moses spoke to the Lord, saying: 16 ‘Let the Lord, the God of the spirits of all flesh, set a man over the congregation, 17 who may go out before them, and who may come in before them, and who may lead them out, and who may bring them in; that the congregation of the Lord be not as sheep which have no shepherd.’ 18 And the Lord said to Moses: ‘Take you Joshua the son of Nun, a man in whom is spirit, and lay your hand upon him; 19 and set him before Eleazar the priest, and before all the congregation; and give him a charge in their sight. 20 And you shall put of your honor upon him, that all the congregation of the children of Israel may hearken. 21 And he shall stand before Eleazar the priest, who shall inquire for him by the judgment of the Urim before the Lord; at his word shall they go out, and at his word they shall come in, both he, and all the children of Israel with him, even all the congregation.’

This section (Bamidbar 27:12-21) is composed of two distinct passages (27:12-14 and 27:15-21). It is important to note that these are in fact two separate passages[1] (there’s even a break between them), because this pair of passages correspond exactly to the dual pairs of reasons and leaders in Devarim 31. In the first passage, ‘א tells Moshe that he will not be going into the Land of Israel, and, importantly, no replacement leader is mentioned. In the second passage, Moshe asks ‘א to choose a person to replace him after he dies, in order that the nation not be “as sheep which have no shepherd.” This second passage also uses the same language of “going out” and “coming in” (27:17, 21) that Moshe uses in Devarim 21:2, where he says that the reason that he needs a replacement is his physical inability to lead. This dichotomy matches the two reasons and leaders given in Devarim 21, one where ‘א tells Moshe that his leadership is over, and therefore ‘א will lead, and one where Moshe feels he is too old to lead and asks for a replacement, Yehoshua.

This is tied into the hotly debated understanding of the mitsvah[2] regarding appointing a king from Devarim 17.

14 When you have come to the land which the Lord your God gives you, and you shall possess it, and shall dwell in it; and you shall say: ‘I will set a king over me, like all the nations that are round about me’; 15 you shall in any wise set him king over you, whom the Lord your God shall choose; one from among your brethren shall you set king over you ; you may not put a foreigner over you, who is not your brother.

Verse 15 certainly does seem to say that the nation is commanded to appoint a king over them, but it is preceded by verse 14, which seems to indicate that the commandment would only apply in the case where Bnei Yisrael indicate that they want a king, like the nations around them, meaning that it is optional. This debate is expressed in the Sifri[3], the halakhic midrash on Sefer Devarim.

“And you shall say, Let us appoint over ourselves a king’ – R’ Nehorai says: This is a matter of disgrace to Israel, as it is written (Shemuel I 8:7) ‘For it is not you whom they have despised, but Me whom they have despised from ruling over them.’ R’ Yehuda said: But it is a mitzva from the Torah for them to request a king for themselves, as it is written, ‘You shall surely appoint over yourselves a king.’ So why were they punished for this in the days of Shemuel? Because it was too early for them to ask. ‘Like all the nations around us’ – R’ Nehorai said, They did not ask for a king for any other reason but so that he would institute idolatry, as it is written (Shemuel I 8:20), ‘And we, too, shall be like all the nations, and our king will judge, and he will go out before us and fight our wars.” (Sifri Shoftim 156)

This debate is picked up in the Rishonim both in their enumerations of the mitsvot and in their commentaries on the Torah. Stepping back to the Tannaim, it is important to note the proof text R’ Nehorai brings indicating that having a king is less than ideal. “For it is not you whom they have despised, but Me whom they have despised from ruling over them” (Shemuel I 8:7). This verse from Shemuel I depicts ‘א stating that desiring a king is not simply choosing from amongst types of human authorities, but choosing a human leader over Divine Authority[4], which is a fairly strong argument for the opinion that having a king is optional at best.

Taking that back to the anointment of Yehoshua, Moshe’s request for a replacement is granted by ‘א, not initiated by Him, which would indicate that in an ideal sense there was never supposed to be any replacement for Moshe, and the people were supposed to be directly under ‘א’s leadership, with no human leadership in between, as is the case in Sefer Shoftim, after Yehoshua’s death, where there is no centralized national leadership. Unfortunately, the people failed to live up to the responsibility of guiding themselves and their society according to the Torah, and so eventually the institution of a King became necessary. Ideally, there was never supposed to be a king, but once there was a need for a king, there was an ideal way for the king to act. The king was never supposed to displace ‘א’s leadership, but his leadership was supposed to encourage the people to follow the Torah. Hence Divrei HaYamim I 29:23, “Then Solomon sat on the throne of the Lord as king,” where it’s made clear that the seat of human authority is also meant to be a representation of Divine authority. However, Bnei Yisrael failed in that too, as is clear from most of Sefer Melakhim. This idealization of human leadership as an expression of divine leadership is depicted in  Devarim 31:23, “And he gave Joshua the son of Nun a charge, and said: ‘Be strong and courageous; for you will bring the children of Israel into the land which I swore to them; and I will be with you.” Yehoshua’s strong leadership will be a function of ‘א being with him.

Reading this back into Sefer Devarim sheds new light on many passages. Devarim 17:15-20 depicts the specific laws of the King which put a strong emphasis on the fact that the king must be of the brethren of Israel, and greatly restrict the amount of wealth, horses, and wives that the King may acquire. On the surface these laws would seem designed to keep the king from becoming too arrogant and becoming corrupted by his wealth and power but, based on the above, this would seem to be part of the larger goal of emphasizing that the king is just another member of Bnei Yisrael under the Kingship of ‘א.

Another passage that takes on fascinating new meaning in this light is part of Moshe’s final pep-talk to the people in Devarim 30.

11 For this commandment which I command you this day, it is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. 12 It is not in heaven, that you should say: ‘Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it to us, and make us to hear it, that we may do it?’ 13 Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say: ‘Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it to us, and make us to hear it, that we may do it?’ 14 But the word is very near to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, that you may do it.

The basic message of this passage is that the people are capable of keeping the Torah, that they need not worry, and cannot claim, that it is too hard for them to keep. However, the specific messages are that the Torah is not in heaven, where the people would need someone to go get it for them, nor is it across the sea, which would bar the people from going to get it. These two impassable obstacles, the breadth of the sea and the height of heaven, were those that were crossed by Moshe as he split the sea and ascended Har Sinai. Thus the message of this passage is not just that the people have the capability to keep the Torah, but more specifically that they do not need Moshe, or his replacement, in order to do so. They themselves are up to the challenge.

Perhaps the most revolutionary thing to appreciate in light of this idea is the mitsvah of Hak’hel (31:10-13). Every seven years, when the people are all in Jerusalem for Sukkot, they are to gather around the king as he reads to them from the Book of the Torah[5], in order that they learn to revere ‘א and follow His Torah. This ceremony is essentially a reenactment of the Revelation on Har Sinai, and there are numerous textual and thematic parallels indicating this[6]. However, it is also parallel to the covenant ceremony described in parashat Ki Tavo that was yet to be enacted on Har Eval, which itself has strong textual and thematic parallels to the Revelation on Har Sinai[7]. The two covenants, that of Har Sinai and Har Eval, are each thought of as the people accepting ‘א’s Torah upon themselves, and they are that. In this vein, Hak’hel reenacts the giving of the law, with the King standing in place of Moshe and Yehoshua[8]. However, the two events were each also the forging of a covenant, and this covenant is a direct relationship[9] between ‘א and the Nation of Israel. Taken in this light, the mitsvah of Hak’hel is not about gather every 7 years for the people to brush up on their knowledge of the laws, but in order for them to reaffirm that they are ruled not by the king but by ‘א. This also helps explain why every member of Israel is supposed to be there, even children who cannot understand the law but can certainly grasp that ‘א is in charge.

Since the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash, Judaism has gone from a centralized, nation-oriented religion to a much more personalized, individual-centered religion[11]. We have returned to the status quo of Sefer Shoftim, and we must not fail as Bnei Yisrael did then.The mitsvah of Hak’hel arises every year as we approach Rosh HaShanah. More than it is a day of judgement, Rosh HaShanah is about the declaration and affirmation of ‘א’s Kingship[11]. Rosh Hashanah is a time where we take upon ourselves the responsibility of a direct relationship with’א, with all the culpability that entails. Bnei Yisrael in Sefer Shoftim were incapable of taking ‘א’s Kingship upon themselves, and so they required a human king. We cannot be vicariously religious. Communities require leaders , but they are meant to help guide us, not to be intermediaries between us and ‘א. There are no “holy men” in Judaism, only individuals, and thus no individual can throw off his responsibility to ‘א by saying that they are not a “holy man.” The Torah commands Bnei Yisrael to turn to their leaders for guidance only when they cannot determine what they should do (Devarim 17:8), otherwise we must turn to ‘א. On Rosh HaShanah, as in the mitsvah of Hak’hel, we reaffirm the covenant we have with ‘א, and recognize the responsibility that is thus incumbent upon us, and only upon us[12]. Only in this manner do we return to ‘א and to who we are meant to be.

[1] For an excellent discussion of the relationship between the two passages and, more particularly, the grammatical and chronological issues involved in understanding the first passage, see this excellent essay by R’ Elchanan Samet.

[2] For more on this discussion, see this excellent essay by R’ Elchanan Samet.

[3] A similar formulation is also found in a beraita, Sanhedrin 20b, and Tosefta Sanhedrin ch. 4.

[4] The alternative was that the people in asking for a king were simply rejecting Shemuel the Prophet as their leader, but ‘א’s statement makes it clear that ‘א’s Prophet is not a leader in and of himself, but rather a mouthpiece, a vehicle for the expression of Divine Authority.

[5] There are a variety of opinions as to what was actually contained in this torah, as reading the entirety of the Torah would be quite difficult in practice. See the commentaries on this passage for more details on the various opinions.

[6] For more on this, see this essay by R’ Menachem Leibtag.

[7] For more on that, see this essay by R’ Tamir Granot.

[8] See Hizkuni on Devarim 31:11.

[9] Peshat in Shemot 20 is certainly that ‘א spoke all ten of the commandments directly to the people, but it is possible to suggest otherwise, and the forging of the covenant from the beginning of Shemot 19 through Shemot 24 does seem to be done via Moshe. However, the covenant is repeatedly affirmed and accepted not by Moshe, but by the people (19:8 and 24:7, for example).

[10] Talmud Bavli, Masekhet Berakhot, 8a.

[11] Talmud Bavli, Masekhet Rosh HaShanah, 16a.

[12] Talmud Bavli, Masekhet Avodah Zarah, 17a.

Parashat Ki Tavo – That Which We Have Received and That Which We Have Made

כָּל מַעְשַׂר תְּבוּאָתְךָ

 

Parashat Ki Tavo concludes the long code of laws that takes up the middle of Sefer Devarim (chapter 12-26) by introducing the covenant that will take place on Har Gerizim and Har Eval, once the Israelites enter the land of Israel. However, before it talks about the covenant, with its long list of blessings and even longer list of curses, it introduces the prayers (Devarim 26:1-15) that are to be said when a person brings the offering of their first fruits, bikkurim,  and the tithes of their produce, ma’aser, the laws of which had been introduced previously (Devarim 14:22-29 and Shemot 23:19, respectively). These two commandments take very similar forms, bringing food before ‘א, and reciting a short passage. However, the content of those passages varies greatly. The Bikkurim Passage focuses on ‘א’s actions and concludes with the individual bringing his first fruits in thanks. The Ma’aser Passage involves a list of actions that the individuals affirms having done, or refrained from doing, and then a prayer to ‘א for continued abundance. While the two rituals are superficially similar, they are different enough that their prayers did not need to be grouped together at the end of the law code, and could instead have been put with their laws. However, as a closer reading demonstrates, these two passages bear a strong correspondence to chapters 6 and 8 of Sefer Devarim[1], and they are structured accordingly.

The sixth chapter of Sefer Devarim discusses how Bnei Yisrael should relate to the gift of the land of Israel that they are about to receive from ‘א.

10 And it shall be, when the LORD thy God shall bring thee into the land which He swore unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give thee–great and goodly cities, which thou didst not build, 11 and houses full of all good things, which thou didst not fill, and cisterns hewn out, which thou didst not hew, vineyards and olive-trees, which thou didst not plant, and thou shalt eat and be satisfied, 12 then beware lest thou forget the LORD, who brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.[2] (Devarim 6:10-12)

There is a strong emphasis in this passage on the various things that Bnei Yisrael would receive as part of receiving the land, none of which they would have earned or created for themselves. Possessed of all this newfound wealth, the Israelites might lose focus on the source of this great gift, and so they are charged to “beware lest thou forget the LORD” (6:12).

In contrast, Devarim chapter 8 focuses on the products of Bnei Yisrael’s effort, rather than the things they received.

12 lest when thou hast eaten and art satisfied, and hast built goodly houses, and dwelt therein; 13 and when thy herds and thy flocks multiply, and thy silver and thy gold is multiplied, and all that thou hast is multiplied; 14 then thy heart be lifted up, and thou forget the LORD thy God, who brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage;

After receiving the land, the people are going to build on it, and work it, and make themselves wealthy with it, and as they raise themselves into a position of power they may forget the gifts they were given by ‘א. To combat this, the people are told to keep in mind where their resources and abilities come from.

17 and thou say in thy heart: ‘My power and the might of my hand hath gotten me this wealth.’ 18 But thou shalt remember the LORD thy God, for it is He that giveth thee power to get wealth, that He may establish His covenant which He swore unto thy fathers, as it is this day.

The Torah does not deny that the people made this wealth, that they earned it for themselves, but it does remind them that they could not have done so without the abilities and materials that ‘א gave them. Thus between chapters 6 and 8 of Sefer Devarim the Torah has made it abundantly clear that whether the people’s wealth has come directly from ‘א or they made it for themselves with the gifts that ‘א provided them with, they must remain conscious of their debt to ‘א.

This consciousness of ‘א is manifest in the two prayers of chapter 26. The Bikkurim prayer makes it clear that the Bikkurim offering is not about being grateful for the fruit, but rather for the land that the fruit grows from[3]. Corresponding to Devarim 6, the emphasis is totally on ‘א’s actions.

7…And we cried unto the LORD, the God of our fathers, and the LORD heard our voice, and saw our affliction, and our toil, and our oppression. 8 And the LORD brought us forth out of Egypt with a mighty hand, and with an outstretched arm, and with great terribleness, and with signs, and with wonders. 9 And He hath brought us into this place, and hath given us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. (26:7-9)

Then once the recognition that ‘א has given the individual this bountiful land, the person states that in thanks and gratitude they are bringing the first of the fruits of the land before ‘א. The prayer of the Ma’aser is spent discussing what the person did with the produce that they had grown from the land that ‘א had given them.

13 Then thou shalt say before the LORD thy God: ‘I have put away the hallowed things out of my house, and also have given them unto the Levite, and unto the stranger, to the fatherless, and to the widow, according to all Thy commandment which Thou hast commanded me; I have not transgressed any of Thy commandments, neither have I forgotten them. 14 I have not eaten thereof in my mourning, neither have I put away thereof, being unclean, nor given thereof for the dead; I have hearkened to the voice of the LORD my God, I have done according to all that Thou hast commanded me. 15 Look forth from Thy holy habitation, from heaven, and bless Thy people Israel, and the land which Thou hast given us, as Thou didst swear unto our fathers, a land flowing with milk and honey. (26:13-15)

Once the person has declared that they have used their produce to feed those in need, Levi’im, orphans and widows, foreigners, etc, then they ask ‘א to continue to bless them with bounty and abundance.

The Torah recognizes two distinct forms of wealth, that which we have received, and that which we have made. While it might seem obvious that we should be grateful for the first category, it is much less obvious that we should be grateful for the second. The Torah therefore reminds us that we have to be grateful for that as well, not because our actions are in and of themselves meaningless[4], but because our abilities and resources are gifts from ‘א. What is most novel, however, about the Torah’s approach to wealth, is the use to which we must put it. Wealth that comes to us from ‘א must be returned, in part, to ‘א as a way of showing our gratitude. Wealth that we have made from His gifts, however, must be given to those in need. In this act we take up the Image of God upon ourselves, and the same way He redeemed us from Slavery and granted us a land we did not deserve, we give of our wealth to those who are downtrodden and in need, without thought to whether or not they deserve it. In our position as receivers of wealth, it is incumbent upon use to be grateful; In our position as creators and possessors of wealth, we are responsible to give to those in need[5].

[1] I have spoken more about these passages here.

[2] Translations form www.mechon-mamre.org

[3] This is discussed excellently by R’ Elchanan Samet here.

[4] I note this due to the fact that many, many, commentators and thinkers throughout the years have used the verse, and thou say in thy heart: ‘My power and the might of my hand hath gotten me this wealth’ (8:17) to mean that our hands and power truly accomplish nothing, and that everything comes to us straight from ‘א.

[5] I have spoken more about the dualities in the nature of man here.

Parashat Ki Tetse – Amalek and the Oppression of the Disadvantaged

וְלֹא יָרֵא אֱ׳לֹהִים

Parashat Ki Tetse represents the bulk of the laws and commandments of Sefer Devarim, containing 74 out of the 613 commandments in the Torah. These laws are capped by a review of the attack on Bnei Yisrael by Amalek and the commandment to wipe them out from Shemot 17:8-16 (Devarim 25:17-19).

(17) Remember what Amalek did to you by the way as you came forth from Egypt; (18) how they met you by the way, and cut down the weak that were straggling behind, when you were tired and weary, and you did not fear God. (19) And it shall be, when the Lord your God has given you rest from all your enemies round about, in the land which the Lord your God gives you for an inheritance to possess it, that you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from beneath the heavens; you shall not forget.

While this formulation of “They attacked you, you must fight them” is fairly straightforward, at its center is a line that is not entirely clear. The phrase “and did not fear God,” “וְלֹא יָרֵא אֱ׳לֹהִים,” could be referring to either Amalek or Bnei Yisrael. Most commentators have understood it to be referring to Amalek, as an additional explanation of why they are evil, or perhaps as an explanation as to why they attacked Bnei Yisrael. However, The Hizkuni brings a midrash from the Mekhilta suggesting that instead the phrase is part of the description of Bnei Yisrael, attached to “when you were tired and weary.” This seems somewhat strange, but taking a closer look both at our passage from Devarim 25 and the parallel passage from Shemot 17 will show that it actually is very fitting, and that this may change not only the way we understand its connection to the laws that precede it, and their implications for our lives today.

The passage from Sefer Devarim can be broken down into two rather even halves[1]. Verses 17-18, containing 23 words, describe the attack by Amalek. Verse 19, with 24 words, describes the commandment to Bnei Yisrael to eradicate Amalek in the future. These two halves mirror each other in their structure. The first half starts with “Remember,” and the second half ends with “you shall not forget.” The first half emphasizes that Amalek attacked Bnei Yisrael when they were “on the way,” while the second half states that Bnei Yisrael shall eradicate the memory of Amalek only once they are in the land that ‘א has given them for an inheritance. The first half states that Bnei Yisrael were attacked when they were “tired and weary,” and they are commanded to go to war with Amalek once “the Lord your God has given you rest.” Finally, the commandment to “blot out the memory of Amalek from beneath the heavens,” to the last child, responds to the way Amalek “cut down the weak that were straggling behind.” This type of mirror structure is very common is passages in the Torah, and understanding “and did not fear God” as referring to Bnei Yisrael makes it fit much better.[2] It also identifies their lack of fear of God as part of what made Bnei Yisrael vulnerable to Amalek in the desert, which helps explain an odd occurrence in the passage from Shemot.

The passage in Shemot goes into much greater detail when discussing the original battle between Amalek and Bnei Yisrael. It summarizes the initial attack simply as “And Amalek came, and made war with Yisrael in Rephidim” (Shemot 17:8), and then jumps into a description of Bnei Yisrael’s response that is totally lacking in the passage from Devarim.

(9) And Moshe said to Yehoshua: ‘Choose men for us, and go out and make war on Amalek; tomorrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the staff of God (אֱ׳לֹהִים) in my hand.’ (10) So Yehoshua did as Moshe had said to him, and fought with Amalek; and Moshe, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. (11) And it was that when Moshe held up his hand Israel prevailed; and when he rested his hand, Amalek prevailed. (12) But Moshe’ hands were heavy; and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat upon it; and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. (13) And Yehoshua weakened Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword. (Shemot 17:8-14)

This passage lacks the emphasis on the weakness of Bnei Yisrael found in the passage from Devarim. The sole reminder of it is the odd dependence of the Israelite warriors on Moshe’s raising his hand. This becomes a little clearer upon realizing that it is not Moshe’s hand that is important, for two verses earlier the Torah goes out of its way to say that Moshe’s hand, about to be raised and rested, will be holding the staff of God. Moshe would raise this staff and the people would be able to see it and it would remind them of ‘א who had taken them out of Egypt and split the sea before them and they would be emboldened[3]. Integrating this with the passage from Devarim, this would indicate that Bnei Yisrael’s weakness, which was a function of their being tired and weary and not fearing God (אֱ׳לֹהִים), was alleviated when they were emboldened by seeing the staff of God (אֱ׳לֹהִים) and all it represented.

The idea that Bnei Yisrael “did not fear God” is not mentioned at the end of Shemot 17, but it fits quite well in context. Shemot 17 is the end of the whole sequence stretching from just after the Israelites left Egypt until Yitro’s appearance at Har Sinai. The first half of the sequence is the miraculous lead up to the splitting of the sea, and the second half consists mainly of Bnei Yisrael complaining about not having food or water. The transition from the first half to the second is somewhat startling, as the narrative of the splitting of the sea ends with the statement that “the people feared the Lord” (Shemot 14:31), a significant step up from the way that “the people feared” Paroah (14:10) at the beginning of the narrative. Then all of a sudden they’re complaining, and can’t follow the rules ‘א gives them regarding the manna that falls from heaven, until finally they exclaim, “Is ‘א in our midst or not?” (Shemot 17:7) It’s not incredibly clear from the text where this comes from, but all of this comes right before they are attacked by Amalek where, according to our reading, Bnei Yisrael already “did not fear God.” Thus the reason for all of the complaining was that the people “did not fear God”. This leads to the question of just why it is that the fear of ‘א explicitly mentioned in Shemot 14:31 disappeared, but that is beyond the scope of this composition[4] (I discuss it at some length here). Thus, having struggled with a lack of food, water, and fear of God, the people were “tired and weary and did not fear God” (Devarim 25:18), when Amalek attacked (Shemot 17:8; Devarim 25:17).

Returning to the passage in Sefer Devarim, it’s important to take a minute to note its context. It caps the main law code of Sefer Devarim, coming at the end of a section of largely interpersonal laws beginning in 21:10. Examination of these laws shows that the majority of them share a common theme, not only with each other, but also with the passage dealing with Amalek. Most of these laws deal with not just simple interpersonal laws, but with the laws governing how Bnei Yisrael should interact with those in a position of weakness. This includes captives (21:10-14), children (21:15-17, 18-21), disliked wives (21:15-17, 22:13-21), the dead (21:22-23), foreigners (23:4-9), escaped slaves (23:16-17), widows (24:17-18), and others. With this in mind, it’s obvious that perhaps the main difference between the Amalek passage in Shemot and the one in Devarim is that in the Devarim passage Bnei Yisrael are specifically depicted as being in a position of weakness. The Torah specifically says that Bnei Yisrael “weakened Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword” (Shemot 17:14), while when Amalek attacked Bnei Yisrael they “cut down the weak that were straggling behind” (Devarim 25:18). In this way the Torah likens anyone who oppresses those they have power over to Amalek attacking the Israelites, just out of slavery and floundering in the wilderness (minimally in regard to the preceding laws, more probably as a general statement).

At this point, it’s worth taking an aside to discuss the meaning of the phrase “Fear of God.” It’s a phrase with a long history both in and beyond the biblical texts. In modern contexts it is often understood as “reverence,” or “awe,” or even as an existential fear of being obliterated by the presence of an Infinite God[5]. In the biblical text, the concept comes up in a variety of contexts. Its original appearances are in Sefer Bereishit, in the narratives surrounding Avraham, and then it shows up throughout various sections of the Torah, including the laws of Vayikra and Devarim. However, it would be hard from all of this to pin down exactly what it means. The closest we can get to a specific definition is found in Shemot 20:17, where Moshe tells the people that ‘א appeared so intimidatingly on Har Sinai “in order that the fear of him may ever be with you, so that you do not go astray.” Essentially, “Fear of God” is way of relating to, or thinking about, ‘א that will cause a person to keep far from sin. It’s not clear what this way is, however. So all we know about a group that is described as “not fearing God” is that some aspect of the way they think about or relate to ‘א is leading them to transgress the Law, or be more inclined to, which fits very well with the complaints and rebellions leading up to Amalek’s attack in Shemot 17.

This understanding needs to be shaded back into our reading of the Amalek passage in Sefer Devarim. Part of the weakness of Bnei Yisrael at that time was that they “did not fear God” (Devarim 25:18). The exact way in which this is a weakness is not completely clear, but it could certainly be understood as meaning that the Israelites had thought ‘א was not with them (Shemot 17:7), or that being “א’s Nation” while lacking fear of ‘א, was causing confusion and crisis within them (16:2-3; 17:2-3). Certainly such things are true in our own time. Most people struggle, or have struggled, with faith and doubt and performance of the Law at some point in their lives. In a religious community, people with religious struggles are automatically in a position of weakness. They are by their very thoughts made outsiders. Where Bnei Yisrael had Moshe’s staff as a reminder of ‘א’s connection with them, and the miracles they had seen with their own eyes, today we have nothing of the sort. Faith and doubt are a much more meaningful struggle today than they were in the times of the Torah, and that’s a good thing, but they are also harder. Rather than reinforcing this difficulty and pushing away people who struggle with these concepts, we need to draw them close and make them feel loved. Instead of seeing their struggles as a cause for castigation and estrangement, we should see them as an opportunity to embrace and raise up those in a position of weakness in our communities.

 

[1] I am indebted for this analysis to this essay by R’ Elchanan Samet.

[2] Attaching it to Bnei Yisrael rather than Amalek also solve some linguistic issues as well. For more, see R’ Elchanan Samet, Op cit.

[3] See Rashbam’s commentary ad loc.

[4] One could argue that the suffering and the complaining of the desert journey caused them to lose their fear of God, but I’m not sure it’s that important of a difference.

[5] Rav Soloveitchik, “And From There You Shall Seek”.

Parashat Beshalah – On Who We Were and Who We Can Be

א’ יִמְלֹךְ לְעֹלָם וָעֶד

Parashat Beshalach is composed of 116 pesukim that split neatly into two groups of 58. In the first, which might be best titled ‘Miracles’, Bnei Yisrael are guided through the desert by miraculous pillars of cloud and fire and are saved from Egypt by ‘א’s miraculous intervention at the dead sea (Shemot 13:17-15:21). The second section, let’s call it ‘Complaints’, consists of Bnei Yisrael complaining to Moshe twice about lack of water and once about lack of food, their failure to uphold any of the requirements of the manna, and the battle with Amalek (15:22-17:17).

Miracles establishes the new status quo in the desert, wherein all of the people’s needs are cared for in a miraculous fashion. They are guided not by a human leader, but by pillars of cloud or fire that moved on their own. Despite this, the people still feared Paroah (14:10) and could not fight back when they were attacked at the Sea of Reeds, and so ‘א  fought for them, destroying the Egyptian army, and leading to the people fearing ‘א instead, and this is capped by the singular use in Tanakh of the root “have faith in” by a nation, “the people feared the Lord; they had faith in the Lord and His servant Moses.”[1] (14:31). This would seem to represent a great changeover in the mindset of the people after they leave Egypt. Unfortunately, things are not so simple.

In direct contradiction to the trust of 14:31, Complaints depicts a situation of complaining and doubting. The complaints betray not only a strange desire to return to Egypt, but also a complete lack of trust in ‘א and in Moshe His servant. What explains this strange contradiction? The answer lies in the unifying factor between the complaints of Bnei Yisrael after the splitting of the Sea of Reeds and their singular complaint prior to it.

The main thrust of their complaint before the Splitting of the Sea of Reeds is that they would rather have been slaves in Egypt. This formulation, and others like it, characterize all of the complains found in parashat Beshalach, but this one is particularly poignant because of one fact: Bnei Yisrael could have fought back. The torah specifically states that they left Egypt armed, and yet they don’t even try fight back. Not only do they not attempt to fight back, they don’t even ask ‘א to fight for them. The Ibn Ezra explains this problem with a deep psychological insight. He says that Bnei Yisrael were still stuck in their mindset as slaves to Egypt, and as slaves they could not possibly imagine the possibility of successfully fighting their masters. Slaves rarely succeed in armed rebellion. This “slave mindset” is the reason that they did not fight back[2], but it in itself is just one manifestation of a more basic issue: Bnei Yisrael are still thinking like they’re in Egypt.

This “Egypt-mindset” becomes obvious from a close reading of the text. The desire to be back in Egypt is an obvious example. More interesting is the parallel between “the people feared the Lord”(14:31) and “the people feared Paroah”(14:10). 14:31 is seem on the surface like a statement of praise for Bnei Yisrael, that they have achieved this new level of trust in ‘א. But this parallel highlight a subtly devastating problem in their relationship with ‘א. They’re relating to Him in the same manner they related to Paroah.  That’s why Bnei Yisrael emphasize all the things they had in Egypt and why the lack of those things cause them to question the presence and attentiveness of their new master. They don’t get that leaving Egypt didn’t mean trading one master for another. Leaving Egypt was meant to be a paradigm shift, and Bnei Yisrael didn’t get the message.

Several powerful midrashim highlight this idea.[3] The Mekhilta explains “And Moses led Israel onward from the Red Sea” (15:22) to mean that Moshe had to force Bnei Yisrael to move on from the sea, that Bnei Yisrael just wanted to go back to Egypt. The Midrash says that when Bnei Yisrael saw the Egyptian army wiped out in the Sea they took it to mean that they could return to Egypt without fearing for their freedom and worship idols there, which was why Moshe had to make them move on. Perhaps most strikingly, the Midrash Rabbah says that despite all of the miracles that had been, and would yet be, done for Bnei Yisrael, they brought the “idol of Michah” with them as they crossed the bottom of the sea. This is a reference to Shoftim 17-18 which depicts the creating and worshiping of this idol. As it had not been created at the time of the Splitting of the Sea, the midrash obviously intends not the idol itself but rather the idea it represents, that of Bnei Yisrael making a fundamental mistake in how they conceive of their relationship[4] with ‘א. Bnei Yisrael are may have physically left Egypt, but they brought their misconceptions with them.

The strongest indicator of this misconception is found in a seemingly innocuous line in the Song at the Sea. Shemot 16:18, “The Lord shall reign for ever and ever.” This phrase has since been reproduced all over the Jewish liturgy. However, much of its meaning is lost in the subtlety of Ancient Hebrew grammar. This phrase is technically in Future-tense, and so would literally mean not that ‘א reigns “now-and-forever” but rather that ‘א will in the future reign forever and ever. This is of course theologically untenable, but the vagaries of Ancient Hebrew grammar enabled commentators to explain it as “now-and-forever.”[5] The Mekhilta, however, understands this line literally, and sees there the ultimate corruption of Yetziat Mitsraim.[6] Essentially, this line places redemption now in the present, but in the future. Could there be any more powerful statement about the mindset of Bnei Yisrael?

This Galut Mindset has many ramifications. Most obvious but perhaps least significant, is just a matter of wanting to be in Galut. Being in Galut make one want to be in Galut, something that makes it very hard to leave. Rashi (Bereishit 47:28) actually puts the start of Galut Mitzrayim at Beraishit 47:27-28, the end of Parashat Vayigash and the beginning of Parashat Vayehi. The lack of a separation between the two Parshiyot is unique in the Torah, and cause the redundancy of the phrases “And Israel dwelt in the land of Egypt”(27) and “And Jacob lived in the land of Egypt”(28) to be quite obvious. Galut only starts when they going from “dwelling” in Egypt to “living” there. In that sense, your mindset is at least as important as your location, which is why leaving Egypt doesn’t stop Bnei Yisrael from wanting to be there. The first step to leaving Galut is wanting to.

The second ramification of this idea is a function of how we live our lives on a daily basis. Is Redemption happening now, or are we still waiting for it? This issue is far from theoretical. Redemption makes certain demands of us, not just in terms of where we choose to live but also in terms of how we choose to live. Galut is a consequence of incorrect behavior, and Geulah means that we need to make sure we don’t bring Galut upon ourselves yet again. Our actions ought to reflect Redemption, regardless of where we live.

Lastly, a matter of vision and purpose. How we think of ourselves and our past dictates how we think of others and our future, and thinking about the future in terms of the past is both harmfully and unnecessarily limiting[7]. In Galut we have come to think of ourselves as “Hated Amongst the Nations,” something that was certainly true once, but is not necessarily so any longer[8]. The sense of persecution and isolation we have acquired in Galut colors how we see everything. Halakha in the Galut has been very defensive and isolationist, separating us more and more from the rest of ‘א’s children[9]. This need not be so. There have been enough more open and accepting Halakhic-decisors throughout Jewish history, the Meiri being a prime example, for Bnei Yisrael today to be able to interact with the Nations of the World in an open and Halakhic manner[10]. Beyond Halakha, the Redemption is a matter of eschatology[11]. Throughout the prophetic literature we find many different possibilities in terms of what the future redemption will look like. Many books discuss a war with the nations, either with them attacking Bnei Yisrael, with ‘א exacting vengeance on them for their crimes, or something in between. But there are also prophets for whom no such war will occur, where the End of History is depicted not as a age of Dominance but as an era of Harmony, where Bnei Yisrael enable the nations to live in the presence of ‘א. These are all potential eschatological visions. All are embraced by the last pair of Maimonides Principles of Faith. So which do we believe in? What future are we hoping for? Feeling like we are hated has many Jews hoping for the destruction of the nations. But ultimately this is an obscuration of Bnei Yisrael’s goal as a Light unto the Nations. We cannot be a Kingdom of Priests if there are none to aid in the service of ‘א. We cannot experience Redemption if our idea of Redemption is actually more reflective of Galut.

 

[1] Translations from http://www.mechon-mamre.org

[2] Rav Yehuda Amital, Z”TL, used this mindset as an explanation for ‘א taking the jewish people on a different path than the Road of the Land of the Philistines.

[3] All the midrashim in this paragraph are brought from their quotation in “Seven Years of Lectures on the Weekly torah Portion,” Yeshayahu Lebovich, Parashat Beshalah (Hebrew)

[4] “Seven Years of Lectures on the Weekly torah Portion,” Yeshayahu Lebovich, Parashat Beshalach (Hebrew)

[5] See Onkelos, Ramban, and Rabbeinu Bechaye Ad loc.

[6] Quoted in “Seven Years of Lectures on the Weekly torah Portion,” Yeshayahu Lebovich, Parashat Beshalach (Hebrew)

[7] For an examples of this one need look no further than the paintings we make depicting the future. The Old City of Jerusalem is full to the brim with paintings depicting the Temple Mount with neither the Dome of the Rock nor the Al-Akhsa mosque atop it, clearly an eschatological depiction, and yet there is no Beit HaMikdash; Bnei Yisrael gather at the Western Wall, Or worse yet, sometimes the pictures do depict the Bet HaMikdash atop the Temple Mount, but Bnei Yisrael still gather at the Wall! Paintings like these are something only a Galut-mindset could create.

[8] Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks’ book, “Future Tense,” discusses this issue at length.

[9] Prof. Eliezer Berkovits, The Halakha: Its Power and Its Purpose (Hebrew)

[10] For those concerned that the Meiri is a minority opinion, I refer you to Mishna Eduyot 1:4, “Why do we mention the words of the individual alongside the words of the majority even though the law follows the majority? In case Beit Din should choose to rely on his words.”

[11] A fancy word meaning “religious thought about the end-times”.