Eikev – Consumer Goods

It’s remarkable how prominent eating is in the Torah. The designation of which animals one may eat, the consumption of parts of all korbonos except olos, matza on Pesach, seudos on Shabbos and Yomtov… And yet, eating would seem to be an animalistic endeavor, something to be accepted as necessary, perhaps, but not awarded religious value.

But human consumption of food is qualitatively different from animals’ feeding. That is the essence of the words “[Hashem] subjected you to the hardship of hunger and then gave you mon to eat, which neither you nor your ancestors had ever known, in order to teach you that a human being does not live on bread alone, but that one must live on all the words of Hashem.”

That pasuk is often understood as meaning simply that our lives are made meaningful by following Hashem’s words. But its deeper meaning is something else: While we may think that our souls are nourished by the vitamins, minerals, proteins and fats in what we eat, the Torah is telling us that our true life nourishment comes from something ethereal, holy, that permeates our food, something instilled there by Hashem’s  will. That was the lesson of the mon, that our lives’ engines and their fuel are not ultimately physical. It’s a concept philosophers call vitalism. 

And the wordings of our birchos hanehenim hint at that fact : Shehakol nih’yeh bid’varo, borei pri ha’etz, hamotzi [by His decree] lechem. We don’t just say thank You for what we are about to eat but express the fact that the food is caused by, and imbued with, something divine, and that it is really that invisible element that provides us human life.

R’ Chaim Vital quotes the Arizal as saying that the highest spiritual level is accessible by concentrating on our brachos, because they are not mere expressions of gratitude but, rather, means of sublimating and refining the base element inherent in the physical stuff we are eating. “And he [the Arizal],” R’ Vital writes, “impressed the importance of that upon me greatly.”

Those of us who have been saying brachos from childhood too easily fall into reciting them by rote, often mumbling them without thinking much, if at all, about their words’ meanings. 

We do well to watch and listen to the newly observant when they make brachos, and strive to emulate their concentration on what they are saying.

© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran

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.” 

© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran

Rightly Raised Eyebrows

For an assortment of reasons, former President Trump enjoys broad support among Orthodox Jewish Americans. He also, though, enjoys the support of some very unsavory characters. To his credit, one of them, although she denies it, was jettisoned as a featured guest at a recent fundraiser.  Unfortunately, her replacement has problems of his own.

To read about what I mean, please click here.

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.” 

© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran

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.

© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran

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. 

© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran