Lessons from the Entebbe Rescue Mission

 This July 4^th marks the 48^th anniversary of the successful IDF raid on Entebbe and rescue of 102 passengers who were being held hostage in Uganda. There are many lessons that can be learned from Operation Entebbe. For us on this Shabbat Parshat Shelach, two of those lessons stand out.

First, the Entebbe mission teaches us that enemies of Israel may be able to hurt and impede us, but nothing and no one can prevent the realization of Jewish destiny. This was the mistake of the meraglim. After touring the Land of Israel, 10 of the 12 spies came back with negative reports. If we look closely at their report, it is all factually correct. The inhabitants of the land were giants. The cities were fortified. It was going to be difficult to conquer the land. But even though they may have been right about these details, the spies were still wrong in their unwillingness to factor into their equation the Hand of God and immutable power of Jewish destiny. As David Ben Gurion once quipped, “In Israel, in order to be a realist you must believe in miracles.” The same can be said about the ongoing continuity of the Jewish People.

Soon after the Entebbe rescue mission the Lubavitcher Rebbe wrote: “Here my thoughts turn to the recent miraculous rescue of the hostages from Uganda. One cannot fail to note the extraordinary aspects at both ends of the hijacking. On the one hand, the ease with which the four terrorists hijacked the airbus in Athens, and on the other, the extraordinary success of the rescue operation. In other words, both the initial crisis and the eventual delivery clearly point to the Hand of G-d.”

Second, the Entebbe rescue mission demonstrated Israeli risk-taking and initiative. As one military analyst noted the fact that the Entebbe mission was a success was not surprising as the Ugandans were outmatched in all ways according to all opinions. What was impressive was the “guts” demonstrated by Israeli leadership in ordering the command to do the right thing and get the job done. This is the lesson in Parshat Shelach that we can learn from Yehoshua and Kalev. These two meraglim understood and appreciated the role of the Divine intervention and Jewish destiny. However more important than this fundamental difference in religious outlook was their willingness to show the courage and resolve to speak up and say what was unpopular and what most people did not want to hear.

Ask anyone the names of the meraglim, and most people will first name Yehoshua and Calev. These two men were very unpopular in the moment ads they spoke out against conventional wisdom and forced the nation to confront ideas that they would have preferred to avoid. Yet they are the two men that history has proven to be correct and worthy of remembering. The other ten spies may be recorded in the Torah, but they have been forgotten by Jewish tradition. This came about due to Calev’s and Yehoshua’s willingness to be bold, to take risks, and to do what needed to be done.

Let us utilize this July 4th to recommit ourselves to learning the lessons of the Entebbe rescue mission, especially those that intersect with the story of the meraglim: Let us appreciate the need and the benefits of taking risks. Let us be willing to engage in bold initiatives and to say constructive things even when it may be unpopular. Let us always be willing to do what needs to be done. At the same time, we must never underestimate the Yad Hashem, the role of God in the unfolding Jewish story. If we are unsure of the effectiveness of our efforts, if we feel as if the Jewish cause is getting more complicated and the Jewish dream is moving further away, then let us be reassured in the knowledge that nothing can stop Jewish destiny.

Reading the Parsha with Fresh Eyes

The Talmud (Brachot 8) records that there is a mitzvah to review the weekly Parsha twice and to read its “Targum” (translation) once. This weekly rabbinic mitzvah is referred to as “Shnayim Mikra”. The Maharal explains that the reason why there is an obligation to review the weekly Parsha three times is because the Chumash records that the Torah was taught three times: At Har Sinai, at the Ohel Moed, and at Arvot Moav. The mitzvah of Shnayim Mikra is codified in Shulchan Aruch (OC 285). Here are a few of the halachot associated with this mitzvah: One can fulfill their obligation to read the Parsha a second time by reading along with the Baal Koreh on Shabbat morning. Instead of Targum Onkelos, one can review Rashi on the Parsha instead. According to the Taz, one may fulfill their mitzvah of “Echad Targum” with a traditional and authoritative English translation of the Parsha. Not all Poskim agree to this, and many require either Rashi or Onkelos (or both). Today one can use an English translation of Rashi on Chumash as their Targum. The timeframe for reviewing the Parsha begins on Sunday. Ideally one should finish reviewing the Parsha by the time one sits down to eat Shabbat dinner on Friday night. If one is not done by then, there are different opinions as far as the deadline for Shnayim Mikra. Some say it is Shabbat afternoon (when we begin reading next week’s Parsha), some say it is Wednesday of the next week, and some say that you have until Simchat Torah to complete the task (ie it’s viewed as an annual obligation and just must be completed before we start again from Bereishit). Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe OC 5:17) notes that the obligation of Shnayim Mikra applies even to those who learn Torah over the course of the week. Part of everyone’s Torah study schedule should include Shnayim Mikra. Rabbi Feinstein goes on to lament the fact that Shnayim Mikra is a mitzvah that has been neglected even by those who make Torah study a priority.

One of the benefits of Shnayim Mikra is that it affords us an opportunity to see new things in the Parsha and learn new lessons each year. For example, as I was reading Parshat Behaalotecha this past week I was struck by something that I had never noticed before. Soon after Bnai Yisrael left Har Sinai, they began to complain. Moshe turned to Hashem and expressed his feelings of exasperation of being overwhelmed by the needs of the people. Hashem tells Moshe to appoint 70 men to serve as religious leaders and to help lighten Moshe’s load. As I read about this episode I was reminded that this is not the first time Moshe was encouraged to delegate and to empower others who could help lead the nation. In Parshat Yitro we read that Moshe’s father-in-law was concerned about the system that existed at Har Sinai, whereby Moshe was the last and first address for all of the people’s problems and questions. Yitro encouraged Moshe to appoint many leaders and to establish a system of sharing the burden of serving the people. As I read about the appointment of the 70 elders I wondered: What happened to the system that was established by Yitro? The answer I believe (though I never noticed it before) is found at the end of Chapter 10. As he is leaving Har Sinai, Moshe invites his father-in-law to join the Jewish People as they travel to Israel. According to the pesukim, Yitro declined. We can imagine that once Yitro left, his recommendations for Moshe on how to delegate went by the wayside. That’s why it was necessary to create a new system of 70 Zekeinim to replace Yitro’s system of delegating. From here we can learn the challenge of maintaining change for the long term, especially when the initial impetus for that change is no longer present. Let us always be ready and willing to learn the Parsha each week with fresh eyes and a willingness to learn new lessons. 

Be on the Lookout for Blessings in Disguise

 In Degel Machaneh Ephraim the Baal Shem Tov's grandson says that God's blessings sometimes come in a form that we perceive as not welcome, and as a result, we may run away from them. The Torah assures us that the good that God intends for us will occur even if we try to avoid it. This is the meaning of the verse: “May goodness and loving-kindness pursue me all the days of my life” (Psalms 23:6). We pray that if, in our limited understanding, we try to avoid a concealed kindness, that it pursue and overtake us.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchok of Berditchev once saw a person running in the marketplace. “Where are you running to?” he asked.

The man answered, “I'm running for my parnassah (livelihood).”Rabbi Levi Yitzchok said, “How do you know your livelihood is in front of you? Perhaps it is behind you and you are running away from it.”

What we think is a blessing may actually be bad for us, while what appears at first glance as a curse may be the best thing we could get.

Parshat Nasso contains the Birkat Kohanim, the blessing from Hashem to the Jewish People offered by way of the Kohanim. The blessing is referred to as the bracha hameshuleshet, a three-pronged blessing. The first blessing reads as follows:

“May Hashem bless you and safeguard you.”

Although there are two clauses in this statement, it is understood to be one blessing.

This first blessing is associated with material success. How might we understand the connection between the phrases “bless you” and “safeguard you”?

Rashi suggests that the first phrase means that Hashem should give us all that we need/ want. The second clause is the blessing that once we have it, no one should be able to take it away from us, ie Hashem gaurds it to insure it stays in our possession.

The Netziv offered a different perspective on the relationship between the phrases. He explains that sometimes what we thought would be a blessing ends up being a tremendous challenge. Wealth is a good example. People think, as King Solomon said, that money will answer all problems. Yet studies consistently show that wealth is not a good indicator of a person’s level of happiness. Wealth can be a great blessing- but it can also be a great challenge and the source of much strife. So in the first of the priestly blessings, we are blessed that what we thought would be a blessing- in fact should remain a blessing and be perceived as such by us.

The Netziv’s approach reminds us of an important fact of life: Sometimes what might be considered a great blessing can turn out to be a great challenge. Similarly, something that was considered to be a great challenge can very well turn out to be life’s greatest blessing.

 

Bikkurim and an Attitude of Gratitude

 In his 2018 book Thanks a Thousand, A.J. Jacobs shares his gratitude journey for all those involved in providing his morning cup of coffee. Jacobs shared how he used to focus on the negative in his life and learned to fight that by searching for the gratitude.

His journey began with saying a thank you before dinner to the people who helped provide his meal, like the farmers or grocery workers. One night his ten year old son pointed out the irrationality of thanking them if they aren’t here to hear it;  so Jacobs started a gratitude journey for what he thought would be something small:  a cup of coffee.

He starts by thanking the barista, Chung, at his local coffee house, Joe Coffee.

He thanks the person who chooses which coffee beans Joe Coffee stores should buy and use. He thanks the person who invented the brand of plastic lids for the coffee cup that Joe Coffee uses (special thought goes into the design- hexanol shape on the underside- to allow maximum coffee aroma out while drinking for a full sense experience.)

He thanks the person who made the cardboard hot sleeves for coffee cups so you don’t burn yourself: the “java jacket”.

He thanks the person in charge of pest control at the warehouse that stores the coffee.

He went to Colombia to thank the people that grow the coffee beans.

He even thanks the construction workers for paving the roads which allowed his coffee to be delivered. And as his gratitude journey progresses, he adds more and more people to thank, over 1000 thank you’s in total.

The Mishna (Bikurim 3:3) describes the festive procession as the farmers would bring their bikurim (first fruits) to the Beit HaMikdash. Many people would meet and greet the farmers along the way:

“The governors and chiefs and treasurers [of the Temple] would go out to greet them, and according to the rank of the entrants they would go forth. All the skilled artisans of Jerusalem would stand up before them and greet them saying, “Our brothers, men of such and such a place, we welcome you in peace.”

Why did the bikurim warrant such a large public procession more so than any other time Jews would come to Yerushalayim? Furthermore, the Mishna seems to limit the welcoming committee in Jerusalem who would welcome the farmers specifically to the craftsmen. Why?

Rabbi Moshe Alshich explains that the whole purpose of bringing the bikurim is to show hakarat haTov, gratitude, to Hashem. He notes the Midrash that Hashem created the world for several things referred to as reishis (“firsts”), and one of which is bikurim. What is so special about bikkurim? Alshich writes that bikkurim are the epitome of hakarat hatov. By bringing the first fruits as a gift to the Beit Hamikdash the farmers demonstrate their appreciation of Hashem in a very public manner.

Rav Kook adds that historically there was disunity and division between the civilized workers and the farmers. The craftsman would look down on the farmers who chose to live off the land, in nature, far from civilization. They disapproved of the farmers and their way of life. However, when the farmers brought the bikurim in this public procession, it not only a demonstrated an appreciation of Hashem, but also showed gratitude to the farmers! After all, you can look down at the famers all you want- until you want a glass of orange juice, a steak, or a chop salad! The bikkurim ceremony afforded the opportunity to make amends and to correct the divide between farmers and craftsmen.

As Chag HaBikkurim, Shavuot is a good time to appreciate all the people who have helped us in the past and all those who continue to help us, in both large and small ways, along our life journeys.

Beyond Sunburn and Sand: Take-Aways from the Midbar

“Hashem spoke to Moshe in the wilderness/ desert of Sinai in the tent of the Meeting on the first of the second month in the second year after their exodus from Egypt.” (Bamidbar 1:1)

The fourth book of the Chumash is called Bamidbar. While we might have thought that the desert is merely a location in which the events of this book occur, our Rabbis teach that the name “Bamidbar” has significance and it behooves us to understand its meaning and its lessons.

Midrash Rabba offers two explanations. First, the Midrash emphasizes the similarities between the Torah and the desert: “Just as the desert is accessible to anyone who wishes to enter it; so too Torah is accessible to all ''. I remember as a student we would take nature hikes behind my elementary school. We would occasionally come across a sign that said “Do not enter! Violators will be shot.” There are no such restrictions when it comes to Torah learning. Torah study is not only for Rabbis, nor is it only for those who attended Yeshiva or a Jewish day school. Torah is not the exclusive domain of those who make a daily commitment to learning. Torah is a Morasha, the natural birthright of every single Jew.

Second, the Midrash goes on to explain that not only is Torah comparable to a desert in terms of access, but each of us must imitate characteristics a desert in order to benefit from the Torah:

“”Anyone who does not make him/herself like a desert, ownerless- will not be able to acquire wisdom nor Torah.”

We must be like the desert in two ways: First, a desert is symbolic of humility as is evidenced from the lack of tall vegetation.  A desert does not have much to brag about. Human beings must exercise a healthy degree of humility in order to accept the “yoke of Torah”. We must be willing to admit that we do not know everything. Just as a desert is open to all, so too we must be open to the Torah’s laws and explanations. Secondly, a desert is hefker, it is ownerless. It does not belong to anyone in particular. From this quality of a desert we can learn that we too must make ourselves “ownerless”. If we want to acquire the Torah then we must not be “owned” by any other ideas or preconceived notions that would hinder our efforts at studying Torah in an intellectually honest and receptive manner.

This Midrash helps us understand the symbolism of a desert for both ourselves and the Torah. However, the role of the desert in Sefer Bamidbar is more than symbolic. The fourth book of the Chumash is about survival in the desert. Are there any keys to surviving in the desert that can help us in our spiritual quest as Jews?

The first mistake people who die in the desert make is a mental one. They freak out and consider the desert a hostile environment that is conspiring against human life. The key to desert survival is learning to be part of the desert’s ecosystem. One is much more likely to survive if s/he considers the possibility that they and the desert can exist in harmony together. A practical example of this is extracting water from the desert cactus. To survive the desert, a person must learn to become part of the desert’s ecosystem and not view it as antagonistic.

This is such an important lesson for all of us. Not every tension, not every disagreement is necessarily antagonism. Friends can agree to disagree. Family members can have different perspectives on even important issues without it leading to all-out war. Difficult situations can be the breeding grounds for very positive outcomes. 

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.