Re'eh: The King is in the Field, Ready to Receive Us

by Rav David Dov Levanon, former President of the Jerusalem Rabbinical Court, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The month of Elul is approaching, and this Shabbat we will recite the prayer for blessing, peace, sustenance, and all good things during the coming month. In fact, we recite this prayer on the Sabbath before almost every month, which is why we call these Shabbatot the Sabbaths of mevarchim, "[reciting] blessings."

This week, we read the Torah portion of Re'eh (D'varim 11,26-16,17), which begins with a critical choice that G-d places before us: "See, I place before you today blessing and curse [on Mounts Gerizim and Eval, respectively]: the blessing is that you hear [in order to fulfill] the mitzvot…] and the curse is if you do not…" (11,27-28).

The straightforward meaning is that the very hearing of G-d's word is the blessing. And in fact, this remains the theme from here on for several Torah portions. That is, physical and material blessings are promised us only in Parashat Ki Tavo (D'varim 28), while the primary blessing is in simply listening to G-d's words.

The Alter Chabad Rebbe of Liadi wrote in his work "Likutei Torah" of the greatness and loftiness of the month of Elul, during which the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy shine. He even asked: "Why are these days not celebrated as a Festival just like Yom Kippur?" He answered that the days of Elul are days in which "the King is in the field," meaning that it is possible to meet Him anywhere, even while wearing the weekday clothes used for working in the field. That is, the Shechinah (Divine Presence) dwells within Elul, even though it consists of regular weekdays.

It would seem appropriate to explain this parable of "the King is in the field" in connection to Elul and based on a parable in a Medrash cited by the Tur (Orach Chaim 581):

"A city once owed taxes to the king but did not pay him. He came to them with an army to collect it. When he approached within ten parsahs [a unit of distance], the elders came out to greet him, and said, 'We have nothing with which to pay you.' The King granted them a discount of one-third. When he came closer, the middle-level leaders came, and he discounted them another third. Finally, when the King came very close, the entire town came out to greet him, and he erased the final third of the debt. So too, Hashem our King: The townspeople commit sins throughout the year, and then before Rosh HaShanah, the elders fast, and G-d forgives them a third of their sins; during the Ten Days of Repentance, the "in-betweens" fast, and G-d forgives them another third; and on Yom Kippur, everyone fasts, and He forgives them for everything…"

In the parable, the king has left his palace - analogous to the fact that the Holy Temple has been destroyed and the Shechinah itself is in Exile. The time for this, of course, is Tisha B'Av – right after which begin the Seven Weeks of Consolation, in which the King returns to His children and commiserates with them, striving to return to His home.

With this, we see that the words of the Medrash shine with meaning: In the month of Elul, the King is in the field, walking towards His sanctuary, in anticipation that his subjects will come towards Him, He will forgive their sins, and He will renew His kingship over them for goodness and blessing. This explains why the Likutei Torah added that the greatness of the days of Elul lies in the fact that "the King is in the field" – He is in movement, hoping for reconciliation and anticipating that his people will come meet Him. These days are therefore even more exalted than when the King is in His palace, hidden and concealed from all eyes, making it difficult for us to draw close to Him.

Another concept regarding the parable of "the King is in the field" stems from a comparison between Rosh Hashanah and the first day of Nissan, six months later. Nissan is the month in which the miracles of the Exodus from Egypt occurred; hence its name "Nissan" (from Nissim, Hebrew for "miracles"). This is the month in which Israel proudly and gloriously left Egypt, a month attributed to the Jewish people, and also the "head of months," symbolizing renewal and reinvention, just like the birth of the new moon.

In contrast, Tishrei is the beginning of the natural year; summer has ended and the winter is arriving once again. This "new year" hints at the natural world, influenced by the sun, the great driving force of nature. This is why Rosh Hashanah applies to all inhabitants of the world, the day on which the year's rains and personal sustenance are decreed. As such, the commandment of the day on Rosh Hashanah is to crown G-d over the entire universe, meaning over the natural world as well.

Our Sages (Tr. Rosh HaShanah 10b) differed as to the month of the Final Redemption: R. Eliezer says it will be in Tishrei, when the world was created, for he verses feature shofar both on Rosh HaShanah and in the great shofar blast of Future Days. R. Yehoshua says it will be in Nissan, based on Sh'mot 12,42 that speaks of the Exodus night as a 'night of watching' – a reference to a night that was watched and anticipated ever since Creation.

These opinions correspond to the two paths of redemption: miraculous, via the clouds of the heavens, and natural, with the Messiah arriving on a donkey. It would seem that the miraculous Redemption is appropriate for the month of Nissan, the month of miraculous salvations, when Israel merited to be like tzaddikim. But if we do not merit this, because of our sins, we require the month of Tshuvah (repentance), and then the Redemption will be via natural means, as is appropriate for Tishrei. It appears that the type of worship and service required for this is the knowledge that "the King is in the field" – He is everywhere, including in the natural world. And this is the preparation required of us before Rosh HaShanah, the day of judgement for the world of nature.

This returns us to the verses with which we opened, which require sharp and clear seeing and hearing! This is because the Torah is referring to the blessing found in the work of our hands, by virtue of the fact that we strive to contemplate and find G-d's Providence upon us in everything we do.

Ekev: True Trust: Not What it Sounds Like

by Rav Ariel Farajun, Individual and Couples Therapist, Former Rosh Yeshiva, and Senior Lecturer in Jewish Psychology, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Moshe Rabbeinu continues his parting speech to the Children of Israel in this week's Torah portion of Ekev (D'varim 7,12-11,25). This is just before his death and as the nation is about to enter the promised Land of Israel without him. As he emphasizes the importance of keeping the Torah as they begin their national life in the Holy Land, one of the important points Moshe makes is that of bitachon, trust in G-d's providence over Israel.

Moshe says here: "If you say in your heart: 'These nations are stronger than me, how will I be able to defeat them?' Do not fear them; remember that which Hashem your G-d did to Pharaoh and all of Egypt… Do not cringe before them, for Hashem is in your midst, great and awesome…" (7,17-21).

And a bit further on we read: "Hear O Israel, you are passing today over the Jordan to come and inherit nations that are greater than you… Make sure to know today that Hashem is the One Who passes before you, a consuming fire; He will destroy them before you…" (9,1-3)

The mitzvah of having bitachon is a great fundamental in the service of G-d. It is mentioned numerous times in the Torah, and rolls around frequently on our tongues in everyday speech. Yet is seems that its precise definition, even though it is discussed at length among our early commentators, still requires elaboration and precision.

The primary thing we must emphasize is that, contrary to popular misconception, bitachon does not mean to trust in G-d that He will definitely do that which we are hoping for. Rather, it is that we pray and hope to Him, and rely on Him. Perhaps this can be understood on a lesser level in the manner that we feel about having a gun: One who goes into a dangerous neighborhood armed with a gun trusts in it not because it will definitely save him, but rather because it gives him reason to hope…

This is why our Sages always combine bitachon with prayer, which is in fact considered the ultimate expression of bitachon (see for instance, Mechilta D'Rebbe Yishmael, Bshalach 2). In addition, one must always take into account his own sins and know that these have an effect on whether his prayers will be answered. To know that G-d might not grant his wishes is not a lack of bitachon; on the contrary, one who knows that his salvation is in G-d's hands will realize that his own deeds and attitude to G-d are very instrumental. And then, after one truly views the world in this manner, he can feel confident that G-d will protect him and grant him that which is best for him.

Thus, when one is in great need or trouble, he must not strengthen his bitachon by saying that everything will certainly turn out fine. Rather, he must concentrate his thoughts on the fact that Hashem rules His world, and that "no one stubs his finger below unless it was determined beforehand in Heaven" (Tr. Chullin 7b). Internalizing this reality is the true measure of one's bitachon.

At the same time, the Torah does not at all negate one's physical efforts. In fact, we are commanded to work together with the natural law that G-d imbued in His world. This must be done with the understanding that it is not these efforts that will make the ultimate difference, but rather with the idea that G-d's will is that we make both spiritual and physical efforts to achieve the goals for which we strive.

This Torah portion of Ekev comes to warn us that we must remember that G-d fights for us against our enemies, no matter how much stronger they are, and also gives us the strength to succeed. This message is not simply meant to calm and relax us, but rather to teach us how to use the weapons we have. When we understand that the battle is determined by G-d's will, and that our efforts are merely part of the Divine game – this means we have true bitachon, and in this merit, G-d will be with us, no matter what qualitative or quantitative advantages we face!

Ekev: The Laws, Statutes, and "Smart Ideas"

by Rav Avraham Tzuckerman, the late co-founder with Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neriah of Kfar HaRoeh, the first modern Yeshiva High School, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The commandments of the Torah include Chukim (statutes), Mitzvot (commandments), and Mishpatim (often translated as "ordinances").

Chukim are laws between man and God that our intellect is incapable of explaining. Mitzvot are commandments that set the norms of Jewish community life; we ourselves might not have established them, but we understand their rationale. Mishpatim are laws between man and his fellow man that, even if the Torah had not commanded us to follow them, we would have established them ourselves to regulate daily life.

The final verse in last week's Torah portion mentions all three of these, while interestingly, the first verse in this week's portion of Ekev mentions only the Mishpatim: "If you adhere to these Mishpatim, and safeguard and observe them, G-d will remember for you the Covenant and kindness that He swore to your forefathers" (D'varim 7,12). Logically speaking, it should have been the opposite: Such a beautiful promise of reward should have been given us if we follow the Chukim and the Mitzvot, which human logic either cannot grasp or would not have grasped. But why do we deserve such Divine reward for simply following mitzvot that are so logical that we would have instituted them on our own?

We read in Tehillim: "The laws (mishpatim) of G-d are truth, righteous together" (19,10). This tells us that that there is a measure of "statute" even in our logical laws, and there is also logic in the statutes. Similarly with the mitzvot that come to remember important principles, such as Passover and Sabbath, there are elements of logic and illogic together. He who truly understands the depth of "there is no singularity like ours" can also understand the true depth of all the mitzvot, including those between man and man; they are more than simply "smart ideas."

This also explains that even regarding laws that the nations of the world also follow exactly as the Torah commands, we may not be judged by them in their courts. As King David wrote, "His statutes and laws are for Israel… the other nations do not know the laws" (Tehillim 147,18-19); they cannot grasp the inner meaning of the laws of the Torah. This is why we read here: "If you adhere to these Mishpatim… G-d will remember for you the Covenant and kindness that He swore to your forefathers."

Furthermore: The word used here at the beginning of Ekev signifies that we are to keep the mitzvot with joy and happiness, in which case "G-d will remember for you the Covenant and kindness." And as we saw, this applies specifically to the Mishpatim; the Chukim and other commandments were not mentioned here. This is because the latter are unique and Divinely-ordained, and people keep them more "religiously;" they are not routine for us. But the inter-personal laws, such as ensuring not to insult others or embarrass them, are easily overlooked – and it is these that bring the promise of remembering the Divine covenant and kindness that was promised to our Forefathers. For it was specifically these that our Patriarch Abraham made sure to pass down to his descendants: "For I know him that he will command his household after him, and they will keep G-d's way to do charity and mishpat" (B'reshit 18,19).

And therefore it brings joy before G-d when the seed of his beloved Avraham are careful to observe mitzvot that might become rote and fulfill them with joy. And just as it was the way of the Forefathers to practice charity and "mishpat" – charity and righteousness in their dealings with others, while demanding "mishpat" and meticulousness from themselves – this is what is demanded from us, their offspring, as well. As the Sages derive from the first verse in Ekev: "If you adhere" – the word Ekev is used here, which also means "heel," implying that we must specifically fulfill the mitzvot that we might otherwise generally kick aside with our heels and not attribute them much importance.

Tisha B'Av: Mourning the Past – and Working for the Future: What R. Azuali Learned from the Women

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The renowned Rav Chaim Yosef David Azulai, known as the Chida, once came upon a Jewish town during his travels, and saw the women cleaning and painting their homes on Tisha B'Av afternoon. The Chida believed this was forbidden on Tisha B'Av, as it represented joy and distraction from the mourning for the Holy Temple and Jerusalem, and sharply advised the local rabbis to ban it immediately.

When he returned home from the synagogue, the Chida saw some women whispering and pointing at him. He asked what they were saying, and was told that they were saying about him, "That holy rabbi from Jerusalem said that the Mashiach will not come this year!"

The Chida could not understand how they had reached that conclusion, and one woman finally explained, "Every year, we prepare our homes on Tisha B'Av for the Mashiach, but this year you forbade us to prepare for his arrival."

Upon hearing this, the Chida immediately changed his ruling: "The houses must be painted and cleaned this Tisha B'Av – not only one room, but the entire house! And the best paint must be used! And in this merit, perhaps the Mashiach will come this very day!"

In addition to the importance of Jewish customs, this story also teaches us the value of proactive anticipation of the coming Redemption. Let us elaborate.

When the Second Temple was destroyed, the Sages of the generation, under the leadership of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, enacted a series of regulations by which the Jewish People would always remember this national catastrophe. Their source was a verse in Jeremiah's prophecies that reads, "Zion… no one seeks her out." From the fact that the prophet is lamenting this sorry state, the Rabbis of the Talmud learn that Jerusalem must be "sought out" and remembered.

When we read this passage today, we might ask: "Who said the intention is merely to remember? Perhaps we are bidden to do something pro-active for Jerusalem, such as working to redeem it?" That is, remembering is generally about the past, while "seeking out" implies doing something for the future. Is the primary issue one of mourning the past? What about acting and building for the future?"

In fact, a look at the Talmudic list of regulations enacted "in memory of the Temple" shows that they do not only commemorate the tragedy that occurred, but also look forward to its rectification. Consider this case, for example: The new year's wheat is Biblically forbidden to be eaten until the Omer offering is waved on the second day of Passover; but if the Temple is not standing, then there is no Omer offering, and the wheat may be eaten as soon as dawn breaks. However, after the destruction, the Sages ruled that even then, the new wheat may not be eaten at all that day – and why? So that when the Temple is soon rebuilt, and the Omer offering is renewed, no one will mistakenly say, "Just like we ate the new wheat last year from the morning, so too this year!"

That is, this regulation was enacted not to mourn what was, but in order to prepare us for the construction of the future Beit HaMikdash!

Certainly throughout our long Exile, our nation lacked the practical ability to work for the physical "seeking out" and construction of Zion – and this is why we "sought it out" chiefly by remembering the past. The primary annual date for doing so is Tisha B'Av, the terrible and calamitous day when our glorious Holy Temples were burnt. On this day, even one who generally engages in building the Land and the country, sits sadly on the floor, occupying himself in his bent-over state with that which our nation is lacking.

On the other hand, as the bells of our Redemption began to ring stronger in recent decades, our people's capacity to work actively for the redemption slowly began to increase. This led to a "seeking out" that was less concerned with memories of the past, and more in actions for the future, both spiritually and practically.

Still, even now, when we are engaged proactively most of the year towards the Redemption, it would seem that on Tisha B'Av we must emphasize our grief over that which we are lacking. Proof of this is that Jewish Law forbids Torah study on this day, except for that which has to do with the destruction and the laws of mourning for it. One might have thought that at least studying the Laws of the future Temple would be permitted, so as to inspire us towards that goal. But we see that the Sages approved only that which would keep us steeped in the sense of mourning, and that this must be the atmosphere on Tisha B'Av, even nowadays.

There is a deep logic to this matter. For it is precisely the great lack of our Holy Sanctuary for more than 1,950 years that brings Israel to uplift its visions and dreams of a great, exalted rectification – which will give meaning to the crisis we are undergoing. A "quick fix" is often a bad idea, as is misses the full impact of the rectification.

It is therefore important that we perpetuate the depth of the loss – and the greater the loss and sorrow, the greater the anticipation and visionary dreams.

The Chida expressed this that day in a far-off community. At first he thought Tisha B'Av was only for mourning – but then, from the womenfolk, he understood that the picture was not complete. When the afternoon hours arrived, the time at which the Mashiach was/will be born, the women – the Congregation of Israel – felt deep inside their heart that the winds had changed, and that the time had come to shake off the dust of "only the past," and to add to it a forward-looking "seeking out."

And in fact, it is customary throughout the Jewish Nation that, amid the sorrow of Tisha B'Av, we begin to engage in longing for the Mashiach when the afternoon arrives. We are permitted to sit on chairs, for instance, and some say we may participate in regularly-scheduled Torah classes. And in our generations, Israel has begun – and is now in the thick of – working all year round for the active Redemption of Zion.

The author of the Kuzari, Rav Yehuda HaLevy, wrote that Jerusalem will be rebuilt only when we long for it to the ultimate degree. Let us therefore all dream the great dream, raise our sights o so high, and thus awaken to act for the return of the Divine Presence to Zion and for the building of the Beit HaMikdash, in our own days!

VaEtchanan: Why Did Moshe Plead Not to be Locked Out of the Land of Israel?

by Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaLevy Kil'av, zt"l, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

On this Shabbat, the Sabbath of Consolation following the fast of Tisha B'Av, we read Parashat VaEtchanan (D'varim 3,23-7,11). Its first word means "I pleaded" – Moshe Rabbeinu recounts to Israel in this, his parting speech, how he pleaded with G-d to allow him to pass through and see the Land of Israel. Reading these words we feel his love of the Land and for Israel's historic mission there.

The Medrash tells us one of the ways in which Moshe seeks to make his case:

"R. Levi said that Moshe told Hashem: O G-d, the bones of Yosef entered the land [and were buried there], and I cannot enter??" Hashem answered, "He who acknowledged his land is buried there in his land, and he who did not acknowledge his land is not buried in his land.

"What was the story with Yosef? His master's wife [who tried to seduce him] called him a 'Hebrew man' (B'reshit 39,14) and he did not deny it, and in fact later he told the Minister of Drinks that he had been kidnapped from his home in the land of the Hebrews. Moshe, however, heard the Midianite girls call him an "Egyptian man" (Sh'mot 2,19) and he did not protest – and therefore he was not to be buried in the Holy Land.

"[G-d continues:] If you are buried with them here, they will come to the Land in your merit – and then you would end up coming as well, to which I object].

"R. Levi said, 'This is similar to one whose copper coins were scattered in a dark place. He said to himself, "If I ask people to shine a light for me so that I can gather them, no one will pay attention to me."' What did he do? He took a gold coin and cast it in their midst and began shouting, "Shine a light for me so I can find my gold coin!" And they did. After finding the gold coin, he said to them. "Wait for me so that I can gather the copper coins," and he gathered them up. Thanks to the gold coin, the copper coins were gathered. So said G-d to Moshe, ‘If you are buried with them in the wilderness, they will all come by your merit, and you will come at their head,'" as is written, "he came at the head of the people”' (D'varim 33,21).

The primary job of Yosef was a material one, to prepare the nation for its historic exodus from Egypt "with vast wealth." Thus he would lay the foundation for Israeli sovereignty in the Land with wealth and economic strength. Moshe, on the other hand, brought down the Torah from heaven for Israel, building the spiritual side of the nation, their destiny. This was precisely Moshe's claim: "Yosef was responsible for the physical entry, and he entered the Land – while I, in charge of the spiritual, do not get to enter?!"

Hashem answered him, "There's a big difference: Yosef acknowledged the Land, that is, it was his reality; he saw the land as the basis for everything – and therefore he merited to complete his mission in Egypt when the Israelites left it. For Moshe, however, the land was not the primary thing; he did not "acknowledge" his connection to it." Moshe's chief mission concerns the Torah, which was actually given in the desert, not in a populated land. He belongs to the Upper spiritual side, which is not directly tied with land, and this is why he did not protest when he was called an Egyptian. The "location" was not the critical thing for him; rather his job and mission were the important matter. Moshe could therefore enter the Land only when it is in its most perfected state, when Jerusalem is built and complete with the Holy Temple at the zenith of its holiness – a tremendous sanctity that can never end and that is not followed by a destruction. However, such a level can only be reached when Israel itself is in a very superior religious state – which was certainly not the case after the Sins of the Golden Calf and the Scouts. Moshe did not complete his mission in the desert, and he had to raise up his generation in order that they be worthy of entering.

What about the Land made Moshe long so greatly to enter it?

He prayed to G-d, "Please let me go over and the good Land that is beyond [to the west of] the Jordan River, this goodly mountain [region] and the Levanon" (D'varim 4,25). Rashi explains that the "mountain" refers to Jerusalem, and the "Levanon" is the Holy Temple. That is, he wished to be an intrinsic part of building both the economic/political basis of the nation, and the spiritual center. Both these centers together, Jerusalem and the Temple, are those that give absolute wholeness and enable Israel to reach their ultimate objectives. Moshe Rabbeinu desired to live on that level spiritual loftiness that he could not attain in the desert.

Even Like an Animal!

The Sages of the Medrash D'varim Rabba (11,6) taught: "Moshe said before G-d, Master of the Universe, if You do not bring me into the Land of Israel, leave me be at least like the beasts of the field that eat grass and drink water, live, and see the world - let my soul be like one of them!"

How strange! Assuming that Moshe's desire for the Land stemmed from a love for Torah and mitzvot, what benefit could he derive from being like animal, clearly not obligated in any commandments? We must learn from here that love for the Land of Israel is not tied solely to the commandments. The Ritva, in fact, wrote at the beginning of Tractate Gittin that even that part of Eretz Yisrael that lacks the level of sanctity of "those who ascended from Bavel" still possesses the beloved quality of the Land – and this is why the Sage Rabbi Avahu would kiss the shore of Acre when he arrived there, even though those who ascended from Bavel did not conquer it and Land-dependent mitzvot do not apply there. R. Avahu displayed a unique Divine attachment to the Land, desiring to be close to holy things even if no fulfillment of practical commandments is involved.

This is why Moshe Rabbeinu requested that if he did not merit to live as a member of Am Yisrael in the highest spiritual degree of the Land - at least he would like to be in the presence of those who did merit it, and to enjoy the radiance of the Divine Presence in any form of life. Such is the importance of clinging to the Land of Israel – something we can do today, but Moshe himself was not able to do.