Category Archives: Jewish Thought

Vo’eschanan – Avodah Zarah Lite

A standard term for idols in the Torah is elohim acheirim, “foreign forces.” At one point in our parsha, though, the term elohim is used without the second word, signaling, perhaps, a less blatant sort of idolatry.

The word comes after Moshe’s prediction that Hashem will “scatter you among the nations.” There, he continues, “you will serve forces, the work of men’s hands, wood and stone…” (Devarim 4:27-28).

What occurs is the possibility that the elohim referred to that Klal Yisrael will fall prey to worshiping in galus are not the sort of avodah zarah foci referenced elsewhere, like the sun or moon or stars; not Baal Tzafon or Pe’or; not things like the Egyptians’ veneration of the Nile.

Perhaps what is being hinted at are “avoda zara lites,” so to speak, ideas or ideologies that may fall short of technical idolatry but are, for all intents, their parallels, as they can ensnare Jews into venerating them as ultimate, in effect, gods, when serving Hashem is a Jew’s true ultimate ideal. The Vilna Gaon is said to have identified the pasuk’s “wood and stone” with Christianity and Islam (the cross and Kaaba, respectively).

And Rav Elchanan Wasserman famously identified “isms” like Communism, Nationalism or Zionism – when embraced as ultimate ideals – as new idolatries.

We might update the list to include Humanism, Feminism and Scientism. And AnimalRights-ism, a Woman’sRighttoChoose-ism, QualityofLife-ism…

And that most enticing and pernicious mini-idolatry, Materialism.

The Shabbos on which Vo’eschanan is read is called Shabbos Nachamu, after the opening words of the haftarah, in which the navi Yeshayahu transmits Hashem’s nechama, or consolation to His people (Yeshayahu 40:1). Nechama though, also means “regret” or “reconsideration” (as in Beraishis 6:6).

When we truly regret our misguided fealties to “idolatry lites,” we will have set the stage for the end of our being “scattered among the nations.”

Devarim – The Ox Whisperer… and Us

The navi Yeshayahu famously invokes a metaphorical bovine and equine at the beginning of his prophecy, which is recited as the haftarah of the parsha,

“An ox knows its owner, donkey its master’s trough. Yisrael does not know; my people does not introspect,” laments the navi (Yeshayahu 1:3).

The animals are reminiscent of two aggados.

Pesikta Rabbasi 14 relates how an ox who was sold by its Jewish owner to a non-Jew refused to plow on Shabbos, causing the buyer to complain. The original owner whispered into the cow’s ear that he was no longer his property and that his new owner had no obligation to keep Shabbos. And so the cow complied.

And in Chullin (7a-b) we read the account of Pinchas ben Yair’s donkey, who refused to eat an innkeeper’s untithed produce until the animal’s owner tithed it.

What created so strong a bond between those animals and their Jewish owners? A hint may lie in the Gemara’s statement that Pinchas ben Yair never benefited from anything that wasn’t entirely his, anything that he hadn’t truly earned and owned. Perhaps that sensitivity to what others owned empowered a special bond between him and what was in fact his.

In any event, such a bond is surely the meaning of Yeshayahu’s lament. The word for “knows,” that he uses – yada – implies the closest of connections. The bond between Hashem and His people, the navi bemoans, has frayed.

In anticipation of Tisha B’Av, the navi’s words in the haftarah are chanted in the lamentation tune of Eicha. The churbanos and other Av tragedies are the tragic outcome of that frayed bond.

But the bond is only frayed, not snapped, and can yet be repaired. After Av will come Elul, whose initials famously stand for – “Ani l’dodi vidodi li” (Shir HaShirim, 6:3) – “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

Mattos – Respect and Realities

For a religion derided in some circles as denigrating women, Judaism would seem to have an odd attitude. In a famous aphorism based on the list of adornments in our parsha (Bamidbar 31:50), Chazal state that a man is forbidden to licentiously gaze upon a woman, even at her “little finger” (Berachos 24a).

It’s not asceticism that is being counseled there. We have no similar directive forbidding the passionate craving of a piece of apple pie, or an afternoon nap or one’s easy chair. To be sure, it is good to deny oneself unnecessary pleasures, but there are no parallels to the “forbidden gaze” at women when it comes to food, sleep or furniture.

What then is the reason for that forbiddance, if it is not born of asceticism? Answer: respect for women. In a sense, the Torah’s attitude here is not far removed from that of radical feminists who see the “male gaze” as degrading.

Ah, but a contradiction, it would seem, lies in our very parsha, in its subjugation of women to their menfolk’s will when it comes to nedarim, where a father or husband can annul a woman’s vow.

It seems clear that the lesson here is that being relegated to a particular role bespeaks no lack of respect. Such “limitations” are only belittling if perceived as such.

While women – like men – have particular roles in life, and some of them may seem constricting or even demeaning, they are neither. They reflect only realities, and coexist entirely comfortably with true respect.

Pinchas – Leaders, Reluctant and Otherwise

Although the Torah tells us that Moshe did precisely what he was commanded to do and transmitted his leadership role to Yehoshua, along with a degree of his spiritual splendor, the pasuk relates, seemingly superfluously, that Moshe “took” Yehoshua as part of his fulfillment of the commandment (Bamidbar 27:22).

Rashi, quoting a statement found in various Midrashim (e.g Sifri), explains that “took” means that “he persuaded him with words, informing him of the reward that will be given to the Jewish people’s leaders in the world to come.”

Reward in the world to come is a reflection of the essential importance of an act. Here, Yehoshua had to be persuaded that his acceptance of the mantle of leadership was truly Hashem’s will. Only by being “taken” by that fact did he accept his new role.

Like Moshe before him, who argued with Hashem and tried to avoid the leadership role Hashem had him assume, Yehoshua is a reluctant leader.

It’s a painfully obvious thought but still worth our focus: Leaders of populations today present the perfect opposite: Their egos and feelings of worthiness propel them to fight for the role of leader, stopping at nothing, undeterred by the true state of their abilities, by realities, by demonstrable truths.

It wasn’t always that way. Dwight Eisenhower had to be effectively drafted to run in 1948; a century and a half earlier, George Washington initially rejected all requests to enter politics. American Civil War General William Tecumseh Sherman, suggested as the Republican candidate for the 1884 election, famously stated, “I will not accept if nominated and will not serve if elected.”

Those men were exceptions and may reflect an ironic truth we can glean from the Torah: A decisive qualification for a true leader is his reluctance to become one.

Balak — Coddling Curses

There’s a question that begs to be asked at the very start of the parsha, about Balak’s determination to curse the Jews: Why?

I don’t mean what motivated him. That is clear in the Torah’s text:

“And now, please come and curse this nation for me, for it is too mighty for me, perhaps it will enable us to strike at him, and banish them from the land; for I know, that whomever you bless is blessed, and whomever you curse is cursed.” (Bamidbar 22:6).

Why, though, not ask for that blessing rather than that curse? Why not just ask the sorcerer for an assurance of victory in warring with the Jewish nomad nation?

The question, though, is its own answer. Nations are motivated by self-interest; their enemies are simply those who stand in their way. But when it comes to those who see Jews as adversaries, self interest isn’t the first priority; cursing Jews is. Their foremost desire is not to enhance their own welfare but to deride and attack the object of their irrational hatred.

To take a current example, were it not for such paramount animus, there would have long been a thriving Palestinian state. In 1947, in 2000 and in 2020, Arab leaders opted not for blessings but for curses against Jews, even though it deprived them of peace and prosperity

Chants across the globe of “Death to Israel” are commonplace. Cognoscenti know well what “From the river to the sea…” really means, and it’s not peaceful coexistence with Jews. To Iran’s Führer, Ali Khamenei, Israel is a “cancerous tumor” and its leaders “untouchable rabid dogs.”

Maledictions against Israel are regularly hissed from the snake den of Middle-Eastern terrorist groups. Part of the Houthis’ slogan is “Death to Israel, Curse on the Jews.”

In imams’ sermons, Muslim children’s lessons and high school textbooks, calls for the destruction of the state that Jews founded in 1948 are regular menu items. Poisonous entrées.

In the end, though, cursing Jews today won’t work, any more than those planned by Balak. In the future, as then, one way or another, a Higher Authority will prevail.

Chukas – Choose Your Weapon

Approaching the land of Edom, Moshe Rabbeinu sends messengers to the region’s king, requesting passage through his land. Moshe reminds Esav’s descendant of how his ancestor’s brother’s descendants had sojourned in Mitzrayim for “many days” (hundreds of years), how oppressed they had been and how they “called out to Hashem,” Who “heard our voices” and released them from Egyptian servitude.

Moshe reassures Edom that the Jewish desert-wanderers will not encroach on its fields or vineyards, that they will happily purchase food and water (which they didn’t even need, as they had the mon and the be’er).

The request is tersely rebuffed. And Moshe and his people are threatened by Edom’s king with the words: “I will come against you with the sword” (Bamidbar 20:14-18).

Rashi (based on Midrash Tanchuma, Bishalach) fleshes out the response: “You pride yourselves on the ‘voice’ your father bequeathed you… I, therefore, will come out against you with that which my father bequeathed me when he said, ‘And by thy sword you shall live’.”

These troubled days, under the pressure of contemporary enemies’ murderous designs, many Jews are less than fully sensitive to the fact that our “voice” – our prayers and Torah-study – are our most powerful means of undermining those who wish us harm. There may be superficial acknowledgment of the value of our “voice,” but less than full investment in the truth of that value.

We have witnessed colossal failures of physical means intended to protect Jewish lives. That should make us all the more cognizant of the truth of “Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, says Hashem” (Zecharia 4:6).

Military might, to be sure, is necessary. But what ultimately empowers and protects both those on the front lines and Jews worldwide are our “voice.”

That, and our true, honest and complete conviction that Torah and tefillah are indeed key to effecting victory.

Korach – Democracy and Its Discontents

Few contrasts in the Torah are as stark as the one between Moshe Rabbeinu and Korach. The latter is propelled by jealousy, a blinding sense of self (and self-entitlement). And, like populists who followed, he used the masses to foster his personal goal.

Moshe is the opposite, “the most humble of all men” (Bamidbar 12:3), and aspired to no leadership position; he had to be drafted. He serves the masses, stands up for them with his very existence – mecheini na, “erase me from Your book” if You won’t forgive them for the sin of the egel, he pleads with Hashem (Shemos 32:32).

And so he is puzzled by Korach’s rebellion. “I didn’t take even one donkey from them. I caused them no harm? (Bamidbar 16:15)” (Rashi sees the statements as expressions of pain.)

To Moshe, leadership is a mission; to Korach, it’s a perk. Like all populist politicians, he claims, “I’m working for YOU” – while Moshe speaks of leaders being picked by Hashem.

Rav Yosheh Ber Soloveitchik notes that Korach invokes “democracy” to push his agenda. Which, Rav Soloveitchik and others note, inheres in Korach’s “arguments.” Why should there be a need for a single strand of techeles if a garment is made entirely of techeles? Why should only two small parshios in a mezuzah be necessary for a house filled with holy books? Why, in other words, should Moshe and Aharon be set apart from everyone else? – The entire nation is holy! (Bamidbar 16:3),

Today, too, there are truly selfless and dedicated leaders of Klal Yisroel – and their detractors.

And some of the contemporary disparagers are “observant.” The religiosity of Moshe’s detractors saved Ohn ben Peles’ life. His wife, wise woman that she was, got him intoxicated enough to take a long nap when he was to be summoned to be part of the mob. Then she sat out front of their tent with her hair uncovered. When the plotters, who she knew were “holy people,” approached the Ben Peles home to fetch Ohn, they turned on their “frum” heels.

Today, too, people who claim to uphold the Torah choose to portray Gedolim negatively. When we read the words that one “should not be like Korach and his eidah” (Bamidbar 17:5), we are being exhorted to reject them.

Make the Ten Commandments Holy Again

Louisiana’s new law requiring the posting of the Aseres Hadibros in all public school classrooms disturbs me. Not because American children should revere the Commandments but for a different reason. Which you can read about here.

The Jewish summer weeks of mourning

Summer, for religious Jews, isn’t all barbecues and vacations. And the fast days we observe are particularly timely these days, when the Jewish connection to Eretz Yisrael is overlooked, or even denied, by some. You can read my thoughts about the matter here.

Shelach – The Import of an “It”

The Torah’s narratives are pertinent to every generation. But certain accounts resonate particularly blatantly in certain times.

Like the saga of the ma’apilim, the “insisters,” those Jews in the desert who repented of having spoken negatively of Eretz Yisrael and insisted, even against Moshe’s warning, on short-circuiting (pun intended) the prescribed years of desert wandering and “going up” into the Holy Land immediately.

Some, like the Munkatcher Rebbe Rabbi Chaim Elazar Spira, a fierce opponent of nascent religious Zionism during the early 1900s, saw in the ma’apilim a precursor of “those sects that went up to Eretz Yisrael by force to establish colonies and wage war against the nations.”

Rav Tzadok HaCohein, who died in 1900, had a very different approach. He wrote that the ma’apilim felt that, despite the warning against going directly into the land, it was a case of “Whatever the host tells you to do, heed him, except when he says ‘leave’” [Pesachim 86b].

Although the provenance of that text’s final phrase – “except when he he says ‘leave’” – is questioned by some commentaries, the idea Rav Tzadok means to convey is that the ma’apilim felt justified in disobeying the Divine order, that their plan was in fact ultimately consonant with the Divine will.

But, while they had a point, Rav Tzakok continues, it was not the right time for such brash action. Noting the first word in Moshe’s admonition that “it [the plan] will not succeed,” Rav Tzadok writes: The word ‘it’ is often interpreted by Chazal to mean ‘it, but not another,’ [here] implying that at another time [in history] ‘it will succeed’.”

And, he concludes, “that is our time, the era leading to Mashiach.”

That era has proven prolonged. And the state of Israel is a reality. The question of whether its establishment was a wise endeavor or a dangerous one is moot today. We can only hope that the redemption Rav Tzadok saw implied by the pasuk – even if it didn’t take place in the 1900s – will happen soon, speedily, in our days.

Rabbi Avi Shafran

Reflections on Jews, Judaism, Media and Life