Parasha Insight

Parashat Shofetim begins with the command, "Shofetim Ve'shoterim Titen Lecha Be'chol She'arecha" – "You shall place for yourselves judges and enforcers in all your gates." This establishes the Biblical obligation to appoint in every city ("in all your gates") courts to determine the laws, and officials to enforce them. The verse later adds, "LI'shbatecha" – "for your tribes," which the Sages understood as a requirement to appoint a higher court for each tribe (see Rashi and Ramban). Surprisingly, this command is presented in the singular form – "Lecha," "She'arecha." Although the Torah here addresses itself to the entire nation, commanding the appointment of judges in every city, and over every tribe, this imperative is formulated such that it is directed toward every individual. Rav Haim Vital (1543-1620) explained that the Torah is alluding here to the obligation upon each and every individual to appoint "judges" and "enforcers" for all "She'arecha" – all the "gates" to his being. This means exercising care and discretion when deciding what we allow ourselves to see, to hear and to eat. It meant "judging" and scrutinizing ourselves, and "enforcing" our own compliance with the Torah's laws and the Torah's principles. Rav Haim Vital here is making a crucial point that cannot be overemphasized – that we must judge and govern ourselves before we try to judge and govern others. Many people happily volunteer for the position of "judge" over their city, and over their community, to criticize this person or that person, this institution or that institution, this policy or that policy. They also happily volunteer for the person of "enforcer," to tell people what they're doing wrong. Rav Haim Vital is teaching us to criticize ourselves before we criticize others, to put our own lives in order before we try to fix all the world's problems, or even all the community's problems. In the next verse, the Torah turns to the appointed judge and commands, "Lo Tateh Mishpat" – "Do not distort the judgment." In reference to judges sitting on the court, this means that a judge may not rule with favoritism, applying distorted logic in order to reach a decision in favor of the litigant of his preference. But this is true also of our "judgment" of ourselves. We are naturally inclined to find fault in others but not in ourselves. When it comes to our own behavior, we have a tendency to "distort" our reasoning, to find excuses for ourselves, to come up with justifications for things we should not have done. About this judgment, too, the Torah commands, "Lo Tateh Mishpat" – that we must judge ourselves objectively and honestly, uncomfortable as this can sometimes be. Returning to this Parasha's opening verse, the first letters of the word "Lecha Li'shbatecha Ve'shafetu Et" (Lamed, Lamed, Vav, Alef) are the letters of the word "Elul." And, sure enough, Parashat Shofetim is always read at the beginning of the month of Elul. The message being conveyed is that this month is about judging and scrutinizing ourselves, with brutal honesty. Elul is the time to stop trying to change the world, to point out all the problems other people are making, and to redirect our attention to ourselves, to the things that we need to improve.

The Journey Parashat Re'eh concludes with the Misva known as Aliya Le'regel – appearing before G-d in the Bet Ha'mikdash three times each year, on the holidays of Pesach, Shabuot and Sukkot. The Gemara in Masechet Hagiga (3a) makes a comment that sheds light on the nature of this Misva, and on the vital lesson that it teaches us. King Shelomo exclaims in Shir Hashirim (7:2), "Ma Yafu Fe'amayich Ba'ne'alim, Bat Nadib" – literally, "How beautiful are your steps in shoes, the daughter of the generous one." The Gemara interprets this verse as a reference to the journey that Beneh Yisrael would take to the Jerusalem before the holidays for the Misva of Aliya Le'regel. And the expression "Bat Nadib" ("daughter of the generous one") means that Beneh Yisrael are the descendants of Abraham Abinu, who was called "Nadib," as he was exceptionally generous and giving. The Gemara here seems to draw a comparison between two journeys: Beneh Yisrael's journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash for the holidays, and Abraham Abinu's journey. On one level, this refers to Abraham Abinu's journey from his homeland to Eretz Yisrael, about which the Midrash teaches that Abraham received reward for each and every step. Abraham's journey was not merely a means to an end, a practical necessity to fulfill G-d's command to settle in Eretz Yisrael. Rather, the journey itself was inherently meaningful and valuable, and he thus earned reward for each step. Likewise, Beneh Yisrael's journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash was itself a Misva. Indeed, we call this Misva "Aliya Le'regel" – going to the Bet Ha'mikdash for the holiday, emphasizing the process of "Aliya," of journeying. The Misva was to undertake the journey, to make the effort, to go through the trouble of going to appear before Hashem. On a deeper level, when the Gemara mentions Abraham Abinu in the context of the people's journey to Jerusalem, it refers to his journey through life. The Rambam writes that Abraham was born into a family of idolaters, and he himself worshipped idols. At the age of 3, Abraham began questioning and inquiring, thinking about the world, how it came into being, and who governs it. This theological journey which began at the age of 3 continued for 37 years, as it was only at the age of 40 that Abraham arrived at the belief in a single Creator. The journey of Aliya Le'regel parallels Abraham Abinu's extraordinary spiritual journey, his lengthy, step-by-step process of growth – because Aliya Le'regel, too, is a process of spiritual preparation. A person cannot simply appear before Hashem in the Bet Ha'mikdash without first preparing himself. The "footsteps," the trek to Jerusalem, was an obligatory process of growth, of putting oneself in the proper mindset to appear before Hashem in the Bet Ha'mikdash. The Kabbalists teach that the domain of place parallels the domain of time. The Bet Ha'mikdash, the most sacred place on earth, parallels the Yamim Noraim – the period of the High Holidays, the most sacred days of the year. Yom Kippur, the apex of this period, corresponds to the Kodesh Ha'kodashim, the inner sanctum of the Bet Ha'mikdash, whereas Rosh Hashanah, the onset of this period, is represented by the Azara, the courtyard of the Bet Ha'mikdash where the people would assemble on the three pilgrimage festivals. It emerges, then, that the period of Elul – the month of preparation for Rosh Hashanah – parallels "Aliya Le'regel," the journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash. The month that we begin this coming week is a time of journeying, of growth, of "Aliya" – elevation, lifting ourselves higher, so we come prepared to the "Bet Ha'mikdash," to Rosh Hashanah, when we stand before the Almighty for judgment. It is no coincidence that Parashat Re'eh is always read on the Shabbat preceding Rosh Hodesh Elul. Throughout the Book of Debarim, Moshe Rabbenu is preparing the people for life in the Land of Israel. But in this Parasha, for the first time, he speaks of "the place which G-d shall choose" – referring to the Bet Ha'mikdash. In this Parasha, Moshe prepares the people for the Bet Ha'mikdash, explaining what his special site is and the special laws pertaining to it. This is precisely what the month of Elul is all about – preparing ourselves for the "Bet Ha'mikdash" of time, for Rosh Hashanah, by growing and lifting ourselves, one beautiful "footstep" at a time, bringing us ever closer to Hashem and to spiritual greatness.

In the second paragraph of Shema, which appears in Parashat Ekeb, the Torah warns of the harsh punishments that would befall Beneh Yisrael if they abandon G-d's laws. Specifically, it warns of poverty that would be followed by exile from the Land of Israel and dispersion among the other nations. The Torah then commands, "Ve'samtem Et Debarai Eleh Al Lebabchem Ve'al Nafshechem" – "You shall place these words of mine upon your hearts and upon your souls" (11:18). It then commands placing these words upon our heads and arms – in the form of Tefillin – and upon our doorposts – in the form of Mezuzot. Rashi (citing the Sifri) presents a surprising reading of this verse. He interprets the verse to mean, "Even after you go into exile, you shall be distinguished through Misvot – place Tefillin and make Mezuzot, so they will not be new to you when you return." At first glance, Rashi appears to be making as astonishing statement – that after Beneh Yisrael were exiled from the land, the Misvot of the Torah became, fundamentally, no longer obligatory. We need to observe the Misvot only so they are not forgotten, so they will not be "new" to us when the final redemption arrives and we return to the land. The Torah thus tells us in this verse that after the exile, we should continue performing the Misvot, such as Tefillin and Mezuzot, to preserve their memory. Numerous later writers sought to explain Rashi's comments. The Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin states explicitly that only Misvot which are inherently linked to the Land of Israel – such as the Torah's agricultural laws – are non-binding elsewhere. All other Misvot, however, are binding even outside the land. How, then, can Rashi write that the Misvot are required only as a commemoration, for the sake of ensuring they are remembered? A particularly fascinating – and meaningful – reading of Rashi's comments was offered in the work Shemen Le'mish'ha (by Rav Asher Anshel Weiss, 1882-1944). At various times throughout our history, the gentile governments forced the Jews to wear a special garment or piece of material (such as the infamous "Yellow Star") to publicize their Jewish identity. This was done so that the hostile gentiles will identify the Jews and will thus mistreat them. The Shemen Ha'mish'ha speculates that this decree might have been sent from Above in response to the Jews' efforts to hide their Jewish identity, to blend in with the gentiles, to compromise their values and traditions for the sake of resembling their gentile neighbors. When the Jews choose not to display their Jewishness, the Shemen Le'mish'ha writes, then Hashem arranges that the enemy nations will see to it that the Jews' Jewishness will be put on full display. When we feel ashamed of our identity, and try to hide it, then the gentile nations ensure to publicize it. The Shemen Le'mish'ha suggests explaining Rashi's comments in this vein. Rashi writes that the Torah here commands that in exile, "Heyu Mesuyanim Be'misvot" – we must be "distinguished," and stand out, through our Misva observance. Even when we live among other nations, we must not conceal our beliefs and practices. We must not be afraid to be different, to look different, and to act differently. The Torah therefore specifies the Misvot of Tefillin and Mezuza – practices which publicize our identity, which involve things that we wear and that we place outside our homes to distinguish ourselves. Rashi explains that the Torah urges us not to conceal our Jewishness "Kedeh She'lo Yiheyu Lachem Hadashim" – literally, "so that you will not have new ones." Meaning, if we fail to observe our Misvot that make us stand out, we will be forced to observe other, "new" practices that make us stand out – in the form of harsh decrees issued for the purpose of causing Jews to suffer hatred and hostility. We must not hide our Jewishness. We should wear it with pride and conviction, ever mindful of the precious privilege we have to be G-d's cherished nation, chosen to study and follow His sacred Torah.

The Torah in Parashat Va'et'hanan (4:2) introduces the prohibitions known as "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra" – adding to, or diminishing from, the Torah. Rashi explains that this refers to the way we observe the Misvot. If a person adds a fifth piece of parchment to the four pieces of parchment in the Tefillin, or if he adds a fifth species to the Arba Minim on Sukkot, then he violates "Bal Tosif," whereas if he uses only three pieces of parchment in the Tefillin, or only three species on Sukkot, he violates "Bal Tigra." The Ramban writes that "Bal Tosif" refers to adding a new law to the Torah, like a new holiday, whereas "Bal Tigra" means doing away with a Misva. Curiously, immediately after Moshe presents these commands, he recalls the tragedy of Ba'al Pe'or – the time when many members of Beneh Yisrael worshipped Pe'or, the deity of the nation of Moab. Moshe reminds the people that everyone who worshipped Pe'or was killed by a plague sent by G-d, whereas those who did not survived. What might be the connection between Ba'al Pe'or and the prohibitions of "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra"? Why did Moshe bring up the tragic event of Ba'al Pe'or in the context of these commands? Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz (1902-1979) answers this question by noting the very unusual way in which Pe'or was worshipped – its followers would defecate on the idol. We must wonder, what kind of religion would come up with such a peculiar mode of worship? And what made Pe'or so appealing that Beneh Yisrael were lured to this type of idolatry? The answer is that to the contrary – Pe'or was the most appealing of all religions, because it championed the complete lack of restraint and boundaries. Defecating on the idol meant the elimination of all rules and limits on behavior, the belief that one can do whatever he pleases whenever he pleases, that anything goes, that even bodily functions – which humanity has always demanded be performed in private – should be performed freely. What made Pe'or so enticing was its rejection of self-discipline and self-restraint, and encouraging its followers to act upon their instincts without holding back. Rav Shmuelevitz explained that Moshe was warning the people about what happens when the Torah's system of laws is viewed as malleable, as subject to the people's approval. If a person feels entitled to modify the Torah, and introduces even a slight change – that small change is like a small hole in a fence. And a fence with a hole is not a fence. While it might not happen immediately, slight modifications to the Torah can lead to "Pe'or," to a point where anything goes, where there are no longer any iron-clad rules. This danger exists in both directions – when adding or detracting from the Torah. There were movements that began with one small "detraction," by taking away one Misva or one time-honored tradition, and this led to eventually abandoning the entire Torah. Conversely, when Rabbis try to "add" to the Torah, introducing stringencies and customs which the people find too burdensome, the people are likely to just give up observance altogether. Moshe therefore warns against both adding and detracting, insisting that we adhere to the Torah's laws without trying to modify it one way or the other. The Ramban, in his comments to this verse, writes that despite the prohibition of "Bal Tosif," the Sages introduced the holidays of Hanukah and Purim because they found allusions to these celebrations in the Torah itself. They were reluctant to approve of these new holidays, but they eventually did so – only because the Torah makes subtle reference to these two occasions. Rav Yosef Salant ( 1885-1981) added that this might explain the unusual features of these holidays. The Megilla reading, the primary Misva on Purim, does not take place on the same day in all places; the first Mishna in Masechet Megilla teaches that there are several different dates on which the Megilla was read in different locations under different circumstances. And the Misva of Hanukah candles, as we know, has three different gradations. The Gemara establishes that the minimum level requires just a single candle each night, the higher level is lighting a candle for each member of the household, and the highest level – which is what we of course do – is to add a candle each night. Although the Sages eventually approved the establishment of these new holidays, they ensured that they would be observed somewhat unusually, that they would not be as straightforward as the holidays established by the Torah, to make it clear that they were not adding onto the Torah. This shows how careful the Rabbis were when it came to introducing new customs or practices. They understood the danger of making even a slight hole in the fence, in giving the impression that the Torah is subject to modification. We must remain steadfastly loyal to the Torah and to our traditions, and never think that we know better, that we're smart enough to make up our own rules.

A number of books draw an intriguing – though puzzling – parallel between two periods on the Jewish calendar: the period of Ben He'mesarim (the Three Weeks from Shiba Asar Be'Tammuz through Tisha B'Ab) and the period of the holidays in the month of Tishri. The month of Tishri begins with Rosh Hashanah, and the holiday season concludes with the celebration of Shemini Aseret on the 22nd of Tishri. (In the Diaspora, we observe Shemini Aseret as a two-day celebration, referring to the second day as Simhat Torah, but fundamentally, this is just one day, on the 22nd of Tishri, and this is how it is celebrated in Israel.) According to a number of Rabbis, these two 22-day periods parallel one another, and are linked to one another. This parallelism leads us to an astonishing conclusion – that the final days of these two periods, Tisha B'Ab and Simhat Torah, are connected. This conclusion is astonishing because, quite simply, it would have been hard to come up with any two days on the Jewish calendar that are more different from one another. In fact, these days are polar opposites – and not only because one day is spent fasting, sitting on the floor and mourning, while the other is spent dancing, singing and feasting. Simhat Torah marks the day when the first Bet Ha'mikdash was inaugurated. King Shlomo conducted a two-week celebration in honor of the Temple's inauguration, which culminated on the 22nd day of Tishri. And, for this reason, the Zohar teaches that Shlomo is considered the "Ushpizin" for Shemini Aseret, which is, in a sense, the eighth day of Sukkot. It thus emerges that the day when the Bet Ha'mikdash's inauguration was completed is, remarkably, linked to Tisha B'Ab, the day when the Bet Ha'mikdash was destroyed. If Shemini Aseret is associated with Shlomo Ha'melech, then Tisha B'Ab is associated with Yirmiyahu – the prophet who warned of the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash. Shlomo Ha'melech enjoyed a life of wealth, prestige, peace, comfort and serenity, and he composed Shir Ha'shirim – a joyful, heartwarming book about the intense love between Hashem and the Jewish People. Yirmiyahu suffered misery throughout his life, being constantly taunted and at one point even imprisoned, and then personally witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem and was driven into exile. The book he wrote – Echa, which we read while sitting on the floor on Tisha B'Ab – laments the rupture of the bond between G-d and His people, and the unspeakable calamities that befell our nation at the time of Jerusalem's destruction – the polar opposite of Shir Ha'shirim. Interestingly enough, the Arizal – based on a number of earlier sources – teaches that King Shlomo's soul returned in Yirmiyahu, further underscoring the connection between Simhat Torah – the day associated with King Shlomo – and Tisha B'Ab – the day associated with Yirmiyahu. These two figures shared the same soul, and thus the days that embody their lives' respective missions are closely linked. These two days are linked because Simhat Torah is the day when we celebrate the precious gift of the Torah – and it is through Torah that we become worthy of redemption. The Or Ha'haim (Rav Haim Ben-Attar, 1696-1743) writes that Mashiah does not wish to redeem a nation of ignoramuses. It is only when we recommit ourselves to Torah learning and put in the time and effort to learn that we earn our long-awaited final redemption. Tisha B'Ab is associated with Simhat Torah because it is through the joy of Torah learning, embodied by the festive celebration of Simhat Torah, that we end the exile which we mourn on Tisha B'Ab. In our community – and in many others, as well – we are witnessing a truly extraordinary phenomenon, one which clearly shows that we are well on our way to making the transition from Tisha B'Ab to Simhat Torah, from mourning the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash to celebrating the restoration of the Bet Ha'mikdash. My father recalled to me how in his time, people spent Tisha B'Ab afternoon at the beach. Now, as everyone knows, Tisha B'Ab is likely the greatest day of Torah learning in the entire year. Synagogues are packed with men and women of all ages hearing Torah classes for many hours throughout the day, and some even the entire day. Ironically, in our time, Tisha B'Ab has turned into a "Simhat Torah." Of course, it is still a day of mourning and grieving. But nevertheless, we cannot overlook the drastic change that has occurred, with the entire community – and many other communities – joining together for hours upon hours to learn Torah on this day. This phenomenon is representative of the broader transition that has been taking place in recent years. People are devoted to Torah learning like never before. With all the unique spiritual challenges of our generation which I and many other Rabbis speak about regularly, the amount of Torah being learned on a daily basis in our time is breathtaking. This is a clear sign that we are, gradually, transitioning from Tisha B'Ab to Simhat Torah, from a state of Hurban (destruction) to a state of redemption. May Hashem help us continue this transition, to continue devoting ourselves to Torah learning and inspiring others to do the same, so we may be worthy of Mashiah's arrival and the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash, when we will experience an everlasting Simhat Torah, amen.