Exclamation Points, Not Question Marks

Parshat Bechukotai begins with the promise of blessings as a reward for fulfilling the Torah and is then followed by a much longer list of curses, or consequences, for not doing what Hashem wants us to do. The last verse of blessing states (26:13): וָֽאֶשְׁבֹּר֙ מֹטֹ֣ת עֻלְּכֶ֔ם וָֽאוֹלֵ֥ךְ אֶתְכֶ֖ם קֽוֹמְמִיּֽוּת: “I am the Lord, your God, Who took you out of the land of Egypt from being slaves to them; and I broke the pegs of your yoke and led you komemiyut.” I’ve left the last word untranslated because there are a number of different explanations. The word is only found once in the Torah, so we cannot decipher its meaning by looking at its usage in other contexts. Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates komemiyut as “led you forth with your heads held high.” There are Christian translations that translate the word as “walk proudly,” “live in freedom,” or “live with dignity.” The Talmud (Baba Batra 75a) explains that the word is a combination of two words:  koma (height) me’ot (either 100 or 200 amot). This hints at the great stature with which Hashem provided us.  Rashi, based on Midrashim in several places, similarly explains the word as referring to standing erect, and when Hashem is on our side the Jewish People need not be afraid of anyone or anything. Komemiyut is apparently connected to the root of koma which means stature. At a minimum the stature referred to may be as simple as entering Israel vertically, as opposed to those who live their entire lives in the Diaspora, but they have burial plots in Israel. By the time these people make Israel their final destination they arrive horizontally, in a coffin, and not alive and upright. The Talmud Yerushalmi (Ketubot 12:3) tells the following story related to arriving in Israel in horizontal position:

“Rabbi bar Kiri and Rabbi Elazar were strolling in Istrina, and they saw coffins arriving in the Land of Israel from the Diaspora. Rabbi bar Kiri said to Rabbi Elazar, “What are they achieving? I apply to them the verse,5 ‘You make My inheritance desolate [in your lives], and you came and defiled My land [in your deaths].’” Replied Rabbi Elazar, “When they arrive in the Land of Israel, a clod of earth is placed in the coffin, as it is written, ‘His land will atone for His people”

We hold like Rabbi Elazar and believe that burial in Israel is spiritually significant. However everyone agrees that living in Israel is far more spiritually beneficial than merely being buried in the Holy Land.

I believe there are two lessons to be learned from the word komemiyut that are especially important at this moment in history. First, komemiyut is a declaration of Jewish pride. As Rabbi Joseph Lookstein said after the Six Day War, “We used to walk around like question marks. After 1967,” and Israel's miraculous victory, “we started walking like exclamation points.” One of the outcomes of October 7 has been a swelling of Jewish pride, even among those who had not thought much of their Jewish identity previously.

Second, the history of Jewish immigration to Israel has primarily been one of running away from a country of origin that no longer is hospitable to Jews (perhaps a drastic understatement). In that historical context Jews arrived in Palestine (before 1948)/ Israel (since 1948) as “huddled masses” (to quote from Emma Lazarus’ sonnet that is engraved on the pedestal of the Statute of Liberty). Today, Jews in America should be proud of their Judaism, and we should value the State of Israel and consider Aliyah not because we need to run away from anything but because we are being pulled towards the Jewish homeland. This is the type of komemiyut that is available and accessible to us and the type that we pray for every day in the blessing before Shema: “Bring us in peace from the four corners of the world and lead us komemiyut to our Land.”

What We Do Vs Who We Are

 In an article for the Financial Times, Author Simon Kuper notes that for a very long time people have had professional identities which could be described as “We are what we do.”  We choose professions that suit our identity, and then those professions enhance our identity. For example meticulous types become accountants, and then their work makes them even more meticulous. Kuper argues that this era is ending and the reality is changing. In his words, “Ever fewer of us have satisfying jobs or stay in the same profession for life. People are ceasing to be their jobs. And this is forcing them to find new identities.”

 

Parshat Behar opens with the mitzvah of Shemitah. Every seventh year, farmers must cease working their land to create what the Torah calls a “Shabbat La’Hashem.” What did these farmers do during Shemita? Rabbi Ovadia Seforno comments that farmers were to devote the Sabbatical year to spiritual goals: learn more Torah, spend more time in prayer and contemplation, spend more time with family and take advantage of all that God’s world has to offer. By doing so, perhaps they would develop a new talent or pursue an interest that these farmers didn’t usually have time for. According to Seforno by the end of Shemitah, instead of just answering “I’m a farmer”, they would hopefully have a richer and more varied answer to the question of “what do you do?”

 

The mitzvah of Shemitah affords us the opportunity to think about the relationship and difference between what we do and who we are. But this is something too important to think about just once every seven years. Both Rashi and Seforno note that the description of Shemitah as “Shabbat La’Hashem” is the same terminology used by the Torah to describe the Shabbat that occurs every seven days.  In Friday night Kiddush we say

“Ki Sheshet Yamim Asah Hashem et Hashamayim V’et Ha’aretz”
God created the heaven and earth in six days.

“Uvayon Hashevii, Shavat Vayinafash”- and on the Seventh Day He rested and He was refreshed.

What does it mean that God rested and was refreshed? Hashem has no need for rest!

Rabbi Jacob Rubenstein zt’l explained that for six days Hashem was an architect, a designer, a builder, a molder- He was defined by what He did. But on the seventh day, Hashem stopped being something and returned to His Essence. We too must look to Shabbat to refresh ourselves. All week long we are defined by what we do: we are labelled most often by how we work and what we create. We are doctors, lawyers, merchants, etc. On Shabbat we must refresh our souls by nurturing our identity that is independent of our outputs.

 

It is oftentimes at the Shabbat table that the question of “so what do you do?” will arise. It is meant to be a conversation starter, a way to relate and show an interest in one’s guests or host. Let the lessons of Shabbat LaHashem inspire us to consider offering Shemitah inspired answers to the question “what do you do?” Here are some suggestions:

 “I am a spouse, a parent, a child, a sibling.” “I am a friend; a neighbor.” “I enjoy visiting lighthouses and reading nonfiction books on the beach.” “I like to ride the miniature train at Trade Winds Park.” “I volunteer at a soup kitchen” “I enjoy listening to classical music and participating in spirited davening in shul.” The list goes on and on- for each farmer, for each of us.

Let the lessons of “Shabbat La’Hashem” also inspire us to ask different questions of each other - and of ourselves.

Sefirat HaOmer’s Uncertainty Principle

The Rambam, in Moreh Nevuchim, (3:43) explains the mitzvah of Sefirat Haomer by noting that Matan Torah was the goal of Yetziat Mitzrayim.  The Rambam explains that we anxiously await our commemoration of Matan Torah (Shavuot) after we have commemorated the Exodus on Pesach.  Just as one who anticipates meeting a loved one counts the weeks and days until he sees them, so too we anxiously count the days and weeks until we will reenact Matan Torah on Shavuot.

The Sefer HaChinuch (Mitzvah 306) had a problem with the Rambam’s explanation.  He pointed out that someone anticipating an event will count down the days until the appointed time.  He will count five days until the meeting and then four days until the meeting, etc.  We do not count down the days until Shavuot; instead, we count upwards.  The Chinuch therefore suggested that since the road to Shavuot was long, it would have discouraged us if we began counting with forty-nine days until Shavuot and worked our way down.  It is more palatable and encouraging to commence the countdown by focusing on what we have accomplished: one day has passed, two days have passed, etc.  Even when we get closer to Shavuot we continue to “count up” because we do not change counting styles in the middle of the Sefira.

Rav Soloveitchik, though, presented another explanation for why we count the Omer upwards and not downwards.  He cites the Ran in Pesachim who states that in the absence of the Beit Hamikdash and the Korban Omer we count the Omer today to reenact the counting of days after we left Egypt until we received the Torah.  Rav Soloveitchik suggested that Hashem did not tell the Jews when they left Egypt the precise date when they would receive the Torah. As a support to Rav Soloveitchik’s suggestion we find a similar scenario earlier in the Torah when Hashem did not tell Avraham his destination when He commanded him to move to Israel. Similarly, when Avraham was commanded to offer his son Yitzchak, Hashem does not immediately tell Avraham where exactly he was going. A third example of this Divine ambiguity is that Hashem does not reveal the place where the Beit Hamikdash will be built in Sefer Devarim.  Rather, the Torah refers repeatedly to Jerusalem as “the place that Hashem will choose”.  We also do not know when Hashem will send Moshiach, but we wait patiently with great faith for his arrival.  According to the Rav’s suggestion, the Jews had to count upwards to Matan Torah because they did not know exactly when they would receive the Torah.  Today we reenact our ancestors’ uncertainty by counting upwards as our forefathers did after they left Egypt.  According to Rav Soloveitchik the religious experience requires a degree of uncertainty that enables us to develop our trust in Hashem. If they were not exactly sure when Matan Torah would occur, then the count undertaken by Bnai Yisrael after Yetziat Mitzrayim was meant to not only cultivate trust in God but also to develop an appreciation for the value of each day. If we counted down in Sefira then we would be indicating that the destination is all that matters. By counting up we are stating that the journey is just as important as the destination and that each day is a gift, a blessing and an opportunity for growth.

 

The Sacrifice and the Sanctity behind the Israeli Flag

 Marta and Yosef Motzen were Holocaust survivors. Their son, Avremi, who was a student at the Kol Torah and Shaalavim yeshivas, fell in the Lebanon War when his tank set on fire. Immediately after the shiva, his friends decided to start a Torah class in his memory, in his parents' home. There are lots of classes set up in people's memory, but how many of those classes last for 37 years in a row? The class participants started out as boys, and today they all have grandchildren. Every three weeks, like clockwork, they arrive at the Motzen home in Petach Tikva. Avremi's father, Yosef, died a few years ago, but the class continues: some of the participants are rabbis and educators, some are businessmen, one of them is a judge - and all of their families know not to schedule any events on the night of "the class at Marta's". Marta would sit in the living room, the number from Auschwitz on her arm, sitting across from Avremi's photograph, bearing his IDF ID number. When the friends entered one by one, and the sound of Torah learning could be heard from the living room, her face lit up. "There is nothing else in the world like this," she told a reporter, "that people are so dedicated to elevating a friend's soul." That evening, after class, Marta felt ill and was hospitalized. Soon after she passed away, and she was laid to rest on Yom Hazikaron, Israel's Memorial Day. A life's journey of faith and heroism, lasting 92 years that passed through Auschwitz and Lebanon ultimately ended at the cemetery in Petach Tikva. This is the story of the Jewish Nation over the past century: The Holocaust, our Rebirth, our Torah. Our Hope.

We used to hear about the flag of Israel in the news when a country refuses to show the flag at events such as international sports competitions. In recent years that has changed in places such as Abu Dhabi and Doha. Every year I return to these powerful words of Rav Soloveitchik zt'l , which sums up Yom haZikaron better than I can: "If you ask me, how do I, a Talmudic Jew, look upon the flag of the State of Israel, and has it any halachic value?  I would answer plainly: I do not hold at all with the magical attraction of a flag or of similar symbolic ceremonies. Judaism negates ritual connected with physical things. Nonetheless, we must not lose sight of a law in the Shulchan Aruch to the effect that: "One who has been killed by non-Jews is buried in his clothes, so that his blood may be seen and avenged, as it is written, 'I will hold (the heathen) innocent, but not in regard to the blood which they have shed' (Joel 4:21)." In other words, the clothes of the Jew acquire a certain sanctity when splattered with the blood of a martyr. How much more is this so of the blue and white flag which has been immersed in the blood of thousands of young Jews who fell in the War of Independence defending the country and the population (religious and irreligious alike; the enemy did not differentiate between them). It has a spark of sanctity that flows from devotion and self-sacrifice. We are all enjoined to honor the flag and treat it with respect." Whether you plan to wear blue and white this Yom Haatzmaut or not, I hope you will join me Monday night at 6:30 pm as we first acknowledge the sacrifice and then celebrate the existence of the State of Israel and the Flag of Israel.

The Death of the Righteous Shall Atone: Reflections on Yom HaShoah and Yom Hazikaron

"The death of the righteous shall atone.”  Does that sound Jewish to you? For some at first glance it may even sound a little Christian. And yet that is the language utilized by the Talmud Yerushalmi to explain the connection between Yom Kippur and the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, both found in Parshat Acharei Mot. Rabbi Chiya ban Abin said…… just as Yom Kippur atones for the Jewish People, so too do the deaths of the righteous atone. (“Mitatan Shel Tzadikim Mechaperet”)

The literal interpretation of this Talmudic phrase did not sit well with Rabbi Baruch Epstein, author of the Torah Temima.  He suggests that we understand Mitatan Shel Tzadikim mechaperet in light of a story concerning the death of Shaul, the first King of Israel, as described in Shmuel Bet (Chapt 21):

“And they buried the bones of Saul and Jonathan his son in the country of Benjamin in Zela, in the sephulcre of Kish his father; and they did all that the king commanded. And God was entreated for the land after that.”
Rabbi Epstein explains that God showed compassion to the people in response to their appropriately mourning Shaul and appreciating his accomplishments and his legacy.
Mitatan shel Tzadikim Mechaperet is premised on the obligation we have in this world to be Makir Tov: to acknowledge the accomplishments of those who have passed - especially when they died Al Kiddush Hashem.
The Torah Temima’s explanation is important for us to consider- especially now as we find ourselves on the calendar close to Yom Hashoah and Yom Hazikaron, Holocaust Remembrance Day and Israel’s Memorial Day for those who have died in defense of Israel. Both of these days mourn the passing of Kedoshim, martyrs, and also Tzadikim- righteous souls.
A student once approached Rav Auerbach and asked for a timeout from his studies so he could travel north to pray at the graves of Tzaddikim. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman looked perplexed but didn’t immediately answer. Sensing hesitation from his Rabbi, the student elaborated, explaining he had some personal issues to think through and he felt praying by the righteous would help. Rabbi Auerbach replied that he fully understood what the student wanted to do and why he wanted to do it, but could not understand why he would travel four hours to pray by the graves of a few Tzaddikim when there were thousands of them buried on Har Herzl (Israel’s military cemetery), just five minutes from the yeshiva!

Every day, someone would drive Rabbi Auerbach from his home in Sha’arei Chesed to his Yeshiva in Bayit Vegan. The Rabbi would occasionally ask the driver to pull over for a few moments outside Har Herzl, where he would recite Tehillim at kivrei Tzadikim, the graves of the righteous women and men who served and sacrificed on behalf of the State of Israel.

Mitatan shel Tzadikim Mechaperet, the death of these righteous martyrs can serve as a source of atonement and spiritual inspiration and growth; but only if we learn the lessons from their lives and the circumstances surrounding their deaths.

If we utilize Yom HaShoah and Yom Hazikaron appropriately then we will merit the fulfillment of the verse in Av Harachamaim- V’Chiper Admato Amo; may we be worthy to fully appreciate the gift of Am Yisrael and the blessing that is meedinat Yisrael. Please join me this Sunday May 5 at 8:15pm for our annual Yom Hashoah program, and I urge you to bring your children and grandchildren with you. Please also mark your calendars for Monday May 13 at 6:30 pm in the Sanctuary for our Tekes Maavar commemorating Yom Hazikaron and celebrating Yom Haatzmaut. This year more than ever we must celebrate the State of Israel with the full religious passion that it deserves.