"אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם: רָאשֵׁיכֶם שִׁבְטֵיכֶם, זִקְנֵיכֶם וְשֹׁטְרֵיכֶם, כֹּל, אִישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵל. טַפְּכֶם נְשֵׁיכֶם--וְגֵרְךָ, אֲשֶׁר בְּקֶרֶב מַחֲנֶיךָ: מֵחֹטֵב עֵצֶיךָ, עַד שֹׁאֵב מֵימֶיךָ."
"You are standing today, all of you, before Hashem your God: your heads, your tribes, your elders, and your officers, all the men of Israel; Your infants, your wives, and your stranger that is in the midst of your camp, from the hewer of your wood to the drawer of your water."
(Deuteronomy, 29: 9-10)
This week we read two Parshiot - Nitzavim and Vayelech. Parshat Nitzavim details the end of Moshe's lengthy speech; a speech that spans a good few weeks' readings.
At first glance, the opening words of the first of this week's two parshiot, quoted above, seem straightforward and formulaic enough. The Ohr HaChayaim notes something interesting, however. Drawing on the word kulchem, (all of you) he asks why is it that we then have a list of who all these people are? Surely the phrasing before was enough?
The answer the Ohr HaChayim gives is simple, but has deep ramifications for us, especially at this time of year. It is imperative for us to understand that although we are being judged individually, we are also judged as a unit. As Jews, we have a collective responsibilty. If we look at the list, we see that infants, women and strangers are all listed here. Typically, we regard these groupings of people as ones that are obligated to a lesser extent, if at all, to fulfill the mitzvot of the Torah. But here, these groups are mentioned in order to make a clear point about responsibility - no one is excluded.
I was listening to a recording to a shiur by Rebbetzin Heller earlier this week, and she mentioned something that many of us know in our heart of hearts; contemporary judicial systems are totally corrupt. When judging in accordance with Torah law, it is forbidden to judge the person; one must judge only the deed. This sounds obvious, but this concept is not shared in America, England, even here in Israel. Modern law systems refuse to judge the deed alone; they judge the person.
By way of comparison, Torah law dictates that we do not pay attention to personal circumstances; a crime is a crime. (Of course, we find ways to be lenient, but that's something else.) We are forbidden from dealing at the person; there's only dealing at the reality of the facts of the case. All else is extraneous.
Judaism forbids judges from looking at personal circumstance for a very good reason; if it is allowed, law becomes wholly subjective and relativistic. Compare this approach to common law systems and we see that they belie an assumption that we have no right to judge. By backing away from making harsh judgments when necessary, law is not properly upheld. The effect of this is to make law totally subjective.
Coming back to the quote at the beginning of the parsha, I would like to connect the two ideas. There may be instances in life when we are not obliged to act in a certain way, or are required to fulfill certain mitzvot, as is the case with the infants, women and strangers. Nevertheless, despite the supposedly extenuating circumstances, we are never absolved of our responsibilty toward others. The point is an exceptionally powerfui one; even when personally relieved of duties, we are fully responsible for enabling others to do theirs. If other people fail in their goals, we have to ask ourselves why we didn't do more to help them.
Based on a shiur given by Rav Ari Heller of Yeshivat Hakotel.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom.
Showing posts with label Nitzavim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nitzavim. Show all posts
Friday, September 03, 2010
Friday, September 11, 2009
Parshiot Nitzavim and Vayelech / פרשיות נצבים-וילך
Unfortunately, this week again has been rather hectic. (I actually was social over the last seven days, and went to two events arranged by Nefesh b'Nefesh on Wednesday and Thursday night, meaning that I got to sleep well past my bedtime.) Consequently, once again, I am rushing to get my D'var Torah in before Shabbat. Will I ever learn?!
***
ושב ה' אלוקיך את שבותך ורחמך ושב וקבצך מכל העמים אשר הפיצך ה' אלוקיך שמה.
(ל:ג)
In addition to its simple meaning, this pasuk, so the Chafetz Chaim writes, speaks of the Geulah. Here the Torah assures us that the day of redemption will surely come, and we must expect it to arrive at any time. And even though this long-awaited day is perpetually delayed, continues the Chaftez Chaim, we are obliged to wait because it will come.
One of the biggest problems with faith is that all the time we wait in exile, it is very hard to keep on "doing the right thing" without any sign to encourage us. If anything, all we have is discouragement; the once mighty Jewish kingdom might not be destroyed, but it certainly seems to be at the will of its foes. Given our glorious history, it doesn't seem innacurate to describe the Jewish people as distressed and even disgraced - in such a low, maybe all we can do is hope!
The Rambam, in his seminal work, "Mishnah Torah," calls on the pasuk above when outlining the obligation for each and every Jew to wait and expect Moshiach's arrival. He explains that anyone who doesn't believe in him, or in his imminent coming, is not only going against the words of the jewish prophets, but also against this very verse from the Torah. (Hilchot Malachim 11:1)
I don't want to make this a slur on other religions, (I clearly believe in Judaism and I have no need to knock other people's beliefs, even if I hugely disagree with them,) but I really do like how in Judaism we don't merely cry out "I believe!" in the manner of one who doesn't know quite what he believes in. One of the most famous songs we Jews sings is that of "Ani Ma'amin," and the last few words we sing demonstrate the point I want to make beautifully. We say, "I believe with complete faith in the coming of the Moshiach. And even though he may tarry, I will wait for at any day he will arrive." These last few words are a perfect example of some of the defining qualities needed of a Jew - persistence, tenacity and patience. We don't merely believe, but we await something that will happpen; something that we must prepare ourselves for.
The opening words of Parshat Nitzavim, "ואתם נצבים היום," are ones that have been commented on a lot - there is a much to be learned from the idea of the nation of Israel standing together. And yet, at the same time, there are many divisions - Am Yisrael is split into various groups following these words.
It often taught that when the Torah mentions standing, we are to understand that those who are standing are evaluating; taking stock of themselves. I would like to suggest that it is no coincidence that as Parshat Nitzavim always falls in Elul, in close proximity to Rosh Hashanah, that it should be obvious to all of us that at this time of year we engage in a little "Cheshbon Hanefesh" and refine our characters before we stand before Hashem on the Yamim Neraim.
For this reason, מרן רי"ז הלוי points out, we read the words, "כי לישועתך קוינו כל היום" in the Shmonah Esrei. These words translate as "For we have hoped for your redemption all day," which doesn't seem to flow all too well. A more natural choice of words would be to say that "we have hoped for your redemption every day, but the point is made better by expressing how we are constantly waiting.
The Yalkut Lekach Tov mentions a comment by the Chafetz Chaim on another pasuk further along in Parshat Nitzavim. To summarise briefly, the Chafetz Chaim explains that if one were to be approached by an angel and told that his judgement would be a negative one, that person would do all he could to change his ways. So, the Chafetz Chaim continues, why doesn't this person stop of his own accord? This question is one that challenges each and every one of us, and as I mentioned above, is at the essence of what it is to be a Jew. For when a person stops and takes account of himself, he realises that the activities he engages in are all too often pointless and a waste of time. Coming back to the original pasuk, can we truly say that we believe in the Geulah? If we do then we wouldn't just believe - we would wait anxiously, checking ourselves again and again to ensure that we are ready.
From Jerusalem, wishing you a Shabbat Shalom!
***
ושב ה' אלוקיך את שבותך ורחמך ושב וקבצך מכל העמים אשר הפיצך ה' אלוקיך שמה.
(ל:ג)
In addition to its simple meaning, this pasuk, so the Chafetz Chaim writes, speaks of the Geulah. Here the Torah assures us that the day of redemption will surely come, and we must expect it to arrive at any time. And even though this long-awaited day is perpetually delayed, continues the Chaftez Chaim, we are obliged to wait because it will come.
One of the biggest problems with faith is that all the time we wait in exile, it is very hard to keep on "doing the right thing" without any sign to encourage us. If anything, all we have is discouragement; the once mighty Jewish kingdom might not be destroyed, but it certainly seems to be at the will of its foes. Given our glorious history, it doesn't seem innacurate to describe the Jewish people as distressed and even disgraced - in such a low, maybe all we can do is hope!
The Rambam, in his seminal work, "Mishnah Torah," calls on the pasuk above when outlining the obligation for each and every Jew to wait and expect Moshiach's arrival. He explains that anyone who doesn't believe in him, or in his imminent coming, is not only going against the words of the jewish prophets, but also against this very verse from the Torah. (Hilchot Malachim 11:1)
I don't want to make this a slur on other religions, (I clearly believe in Judaism and I have no need to knock other people's beliefs, even if I hugely disagree with them,) but I really do like how in Judaism we don't merely cry out "I believe!" in the manner of one who doesn't know quite what he believes in. One of the most famous songs we Jews sings is that of "Ani Ma'amin," and the last few words we sing demonstrate the point I want to make beautifully. We say, "I believe with complete faith in the coming of the Moshiach. And even though he may tarry, I will wait for at any day he will arrive." These last few words are a perfect example of some of the defining qualities needed of a Jew - persistence, tenacity and patience. We don't merely believe, but we await something that will happpen; something that we must prepare ourselves for.
The opening words of Parshat Nitzavim, "ואתם נצבים היום," are ones that have been commented on a lot - there is a much to be learned from the idea of the nation of Israel standing together. And yet, at the same time, there are many divisions - Am Yisrael is split into various groups following these words.
It often taught that when the Torah mentions standing, we are to understand that those who are standing are evaluating; taking stock of themselves. I would like to suggest that it is no coincidence that as Parshat Nitzavim always falls in Elul, in close proximity to Rosh Hashanah, that it should be obvious to all of us that at this time of year we engage in a little "Cheshbon Hanefesh" and refine our characters before we stand before Hashem on the Yamim Neraim.
For this reason, מרן רי"ז הלוי points out, we read the words, "כי לישועתך קוינו כל היום" in the Shmonah Esrei. These words translate as "For we have hoped for your redemption all day," which doesn't seem to flow all too well. A more natural choice of words would be to say that "we have hoped for your redemption every day, but the point is made better by expressing how we are constantly waiting.
The Yalkut Lekach Tov mentions a comment by the Chafetz Chaim on another pasuk further along in Parshat Nitzavim. To summarise briefly, the Chafetz Chaim explains that if one were to be approached by an angel and told that his judgement would be a negative one, that person would do all he could to change his ways. So, the Chafetz Chaim continues, why doesn't this person stop of his own accord? This question is one that challenges each and every one of us, and as I mentioned above, is at the essence of what it is to be a Jew. For when a person stops and takes account of himself, he realises that the activities he engages in are all too often pointless and a waste of time. Coming back to the original pasuk, can we truly say that we believe in the Geulah? If we do then we wouldn't just believe - we would wait anxiously, checking ourselves again and again to ensure that we are ready.
From Jerusalem, wishing you a Shabbat Shalom!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Parshat Nitzavim - פרשת נצבים
"אתם ניצבים היום כולכם לפני ה' אלוקיכם ראשיכם זקניכם ושוטריכם כל איש ישראל."
"You are standing today, all of you, before Hashem your God: Your heads, your tribes, your elders, and your officers - all the men of Israel."
(D'varim, 29:9)
"...to love Hashem, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul, that you may live." (D'varim, 30:6)
This weel's Parsha, Nitzavim, is always read the week before Rosh Hashanah. It is not surprising to see the theme of T'shuva appear often in this specific Parsha. In the two quotes above we may focus on the words "כולכם - Kulchem - all of you," and on "למען חייך - L'ma'an Hayecha - So that you may live."
Judaism is unlike Buddhism, for example, in that it is a very active religion. To somebody who is not Jewish or non-observant, it can seem very ritualistic. Judaism has many actions that have to be performed, and many otherwise mundane activities, eating for example, are to be brought into a religious framework by reciting a Bracha. The idea is that we may enjoy from the bounty of this beautiful world, but we have to realise the source of this blessing, we have to thank Hashem for providing us with even the most basic nutrition. It is not enough to simply understand this, it is a continual process. There are two words for an angel in Ivrit, one is "מלך - Malach," and the other is "ניצב - Nitzav." Nitzav means standing, not moving stagnant. That is certainly not a human quality. Man is a progressing being, we continually have to work on ourselves. One of the names for man in Ivrit is "מהלך - M'halech." M'halech comes from the root Halach, mean to go forward. If we allow ourselves to stagnate, we are not fulfilling our purpose. One of the main causes for depression in this world is the feeling of stagnation, of being stuck in a rut. No wonder that our name indicates exactly what we want, what we should truly be; a creature that progresses, a being that builds.
This week's Parsha quotes God as saying: "Behold! I have put before you this day, life and good, death and evil... the blessing and the curse. Choose life in order that you will live, you and your descendants." (Deut. 30:15 - 19)
Both life and death are in front of us. Both are equally available. But how do we "choose life?" Surely we don't "choose" life - that's like saying we "choose to breathe!" The difference is really in how we choose to live. Do we merely soldier on, or do we build, create, really live? Existing is easy, but living requires active participation and choice. We can go through a whole year just existing, but living requires 365 days of choosing life. The Torah is telling us that mere existence equal death. Because if we're not growing, we're decaying. I recently learned a great lesson.
If somebody asks you to tell them who you are in one minute, you will most likely laugh in their face. It's impossible! How can a mere 60 seconds hold everything that's happened to you, that is currently happening to you, and that you hope will happen to you? Now suppose they gave you 5 minutes? Or how about 10, 15 or 20? An hour? A day? It's still impossible.
Now suppose they gave you a lifetime. God gave every one of us a lifetime in which to tell the story of our souls, to get to know ourselves, perfect ourselves, and make a real contribution to the world. That is what life is all about.
You cannot have a meaningful life if you only occasionally do something meaningful. Meaningful lives require many meaningful moments. But how can you make meaningful choices every day? What is there to choose from? For choices to be real and meaningful, there have to be consequences. Choices that have the greatest consequence are the most meaningful. For example, the day you decided to get married or the day you decided on your career were your most meaningful days. You grew as a person because you made choices. People who don't make choices... don't change and don't grow up!
----------------------
I quote the following from a message I received from Dan Illouz, the creator of Tzipyah.com:
The time of the year we are now in is a time of Teshuvah. Teshuvah is often translated as repentance. However, in Hebrew, Teshuvah really means return. What are we exactly returning to?
We all know about the regular Teshuvah – you sin, feel bad, decide not to sin again and therefore "repent". However, there is a much deeper level of Teshuvah. Rav Avraham Itzhak Hakohen Kook explains that when the world was created, God purposely create a discrepancy between his plan for the world and the outcome of the creation. The example that Rav Kook often gives is called Sod Hanesira – the secret of the separation. We are taught that when men and women were first created, they were linked together back to back. However, afterwards, God moved away from his plan and separated men and women. Now, it has become our job to re-connect with our soul mate. When we finally reconnect with our soul mate and get married to them, our connection is so much stronger because it is not a simply physical connection, but it also has a strong spiritual component. On top of that, it is a connection which was created by us, not by God – this makes it much more powerful because we are the ones who have aligned our own actions to God's original will.
The same is true of the whole world. I won't go into textual proofs but the text of the torah itself shows us that the world as created was different than the world as planned by God. Rav Kook teaches that the reason for this discrepancy is that the world would be created not in a static way, but as a constantly evolving world, a dynamic world which evolves towards going back to the world God wanted it to be at first.
With that in mind, I wish you a Shabbat Shalom, and a good lead-up into Rosh Hashanah.
"You are standing today, all of you, before Hashem your God: Your heads, your tribes, your elders, and your officers - all the men of Israel."
(D'varim, 29:9)
"...to love Hashem, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul, that you may live." (D'varim, 30:6)
This weel's Parsha, Nitzavim, is always read the week before Rosh Hashanah. It is not surprising to see the theme of T'shuva appear often in this specific Parsha. In the two quotes above we may focus on the words "כולכם - Kulchem - all of you," and on "למען חייך - L'ma'an Hayecha - So that you may live."
Judaism is unlike Buddhism, for example, in that it is a very active religion. To somebody who is not Jewish or non-observant, it can seem very ritualistic. Judaism has many actions that have to be performed, and many otherwise mundane activities, eating for example, are to be brought into a religious framework by reciting a Bracha. The idea is that we may enjoy from the bounty of this beautiful world, but we have to realise the source of this blessing, we have to thank Hashem for providing us with even the most basic nutrition. It is not enough to simply understand this, it is a continual process. There are two words for an angel in Ivrit, one is "מלך - Malach," and the other is "ניצב - Nitzav." Nitzav means standing, not moving stagnant. That is certainly not a human quality. Man is a progressing being, we continually have to work on ourselves. One of the names for man in Ivrit is "מהלך - M'halech." M'halech comes from the root Halach, mean to go forward. If we allow ourselves to stagnate, we are not fulfilling our purpose. One of the main causes for depression in this world is the feeling of stagnation, of being stuck in a rut. No wonder that our name indicates exactly what we want, what we should truly be; a creature that progresses, a being that builds.
This week's Parsha quotes God as saying: "Behold! I have put before you this day, life and good, death and evil... the blessing and the curse. Choose life in order that you will live, you and your descendants." (Deut. 30:15 - 19)
Both life and death are in front of us. Both are equally available. But how do we "choose life?" Surely we don't "choose" life - that's like saying we "choose to breathe!" The difference is really in how we choose to live. Do we merely soldier on, or do we build, create, really live? Existing is easy, but living requires active participation and choice. We can go through a whole year just existing, but living requires 365 days of choosing life. The Torah is telling us that mere existence equal death. Because if we're not growing, we're decaying. I recently learned a great lesson.
If somebody asks you to tell them who you are in one minute, you will most likely laugh in their face. It's impossible! How can a mere 60 seconds hold everything that's happened to you, that is currently happening to you, and that you hope will happen to you? Now suppose they gave you 5 minutes? Or how about 10, 15 or 20? An hour? A day? It's still impossible.
Now suppose they gave you a lifetime. God gave every one of us a lifetime in which to tell the story of our souls, to get to know ourselves, perfect ourselves, and make a real contribution to the world. That is what life is all about.
You cannot have a meaningful life if you only occasionally do something meaningful. Meaningful lives require many meaningful moments. But how can you make meaningful choices every day? What is there to choose from? For choices to be real and meaningful, there have to be consequences. Choices that have the greatest consequence are the most meaningful. For example, the day you decided to get married or the day you decided on your career were your most meaningful days. You grew as a person because you made choices. People who don't make choices... don't change and don't grow up!
----------------------
I quote the following from a message I received from Dan Illouz, the creator of Tzipyah.com:
The time of the year we are now in is a time of Teshuvah. Teshuvah is often translated as repentance. However, in Hebrew, Teshuvah really means return. What are we exactly returning to?
We all know about the regular Teshuvah – you sin, feel bad, decide not to sin again and therefore "repent". However, there is a much deeper level of Teshuvah. Rav Avraham Itzhak Hakohen Kook explains that when the world was created, God purposely create a discrepancy between his plan for the world and the outcome of the creation. The example that Rav Kook often gives is called Sod Hanesira – the secret of the separation. We are taught that when men and women were first created, they were linked together back to back. However, afterwards, God moved away from his plan and separated men and women. Now, it has become our job to re-connect with our soul mate. When we finally reconnect with our soul mate and get married to them, our connection is so much stronger because it is not a simply physical connection, but it also has a strong spiritual component. On top of that, it is a connection which was created by us, not by God – this makes it much more powerful because we are the ones who have aligned our own actions to God's original will.
The same is true of the whole world. I won't go into textual proofs but the text of the torah itself shows us that the world as created was different than the world as planned by God. Rav Kook teaches that the reason for this discrepancy is that the world would be created not in a static way, but as a constantly evolving world, a dynamic world which evolves towards going back to the world God wanted it to be at first.
With that in mind, I wish you a Shabbat Shalom, and a good lead-up into Rosh Hashanah.
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