Nitzavim: The Love-Filled Commandment of Giving Rebuke

Based on an article by Rav Meyer Fendel.

In this week's Torah portion of Nitzavim (Deut. 29,9-30,20), Moshe Rabbeinu tells Bnei Yisrael in his parting speech as follows: "The hidden sins [of Israel] are for Hashem our G-d, but the known sins are [the responsibility of] ourselves…"  (29,28). The Talmud teaches that the dots that appear in Torah scrolls atop some of the letters in this verse indicate, according to Rabbinic tradition, that Israel was not punished for these sins until after they crossed the Jordan River into the Holy Land (see Talmud Tr. Sanhedrin 43b).

Rashi explains that the reason for the collective punishment referred to here is because of the concept of arvut: the mutual and collective responsibility of each member of Israel, one for another. It is a matter of Talmudic dispute (ibid.), however, how far this concept extends. R. Yehuda teaches that the nation was punished for concealed sins only after crossing the Jordan River, while R. Nechemia holds that they were never punished for concealed sins – for how can the hidden thoughts of individuals be known to others? – and were punished for revealed or known sins only after they entered the Land.

Well-known educator Rabbi Meyer Fendel <https://mishpacha.com/a-pioneering-spirit/>, who passed away earlier this year, writes, "We see that Israel's arrival in the Land of Israel put them on a very high national level, and upgraded their responsibility one for another. According to the holy Sh'lah, it is very telling that they entered the Holy Land at Arvot Moav – an allusion to the arvut that they were about to take upon themselves. That is, according to R. Nechemia, their arrival in the Holy Land meant that they were finally responsible for one another's revealed sins - while according to R. Yehuda, their entry into Eretz Yisrael upgraded their level of love, cohesiveness and unity so greatly that they became responsible even for each other's private sins."

But the question still begs to be asked: How can one be held responsible for the concealed sins of others, even in Eretz Yisrael and even after arvut applies? How can anyone be punished for a sin committed secretly by another?

An answer is provided by Rav Moshe Yechiel Tzuriel: "If the mitzvah to give rebuke is specific and individual, then in fact it cannot be expected to apply to sins committed by others unbeknownst to us. But if this command is actually an outgrowth of our national responsibility and arvut, then it applies to everything we and others do, whether they are revealed or not. For arvut means that we are all one body; if one limb in a body is stricken, it would be unthinkable for another limb to say it doesn’t concern him…"

The General Atmosphere

"To further explain R. Yehuda's opinion," Rabbi Fendel continues, "let us add that even if we do not know about others' secret sins, we do know of the atmosphere that we all contributed to forming – an atmosphere that apparently enabled such sins. As such, we and especially our leaders are responsible not because we knew about the transgressions, but because we helped, indirectly, facilitate them. This is the sublime nature of the arvut of Israel."

The Minchat Chinukh says that the mitzvah of giving rebuke when necessary and helpful has two aspects: the positive command to offer rebuke, and the negative charge "do not stand by your neighbor's blood" (Vayikra 19,16), in the spiritual sense. One who does not reprove his friend when obligated to, violates both commandments:

* The negative mitzvah of not standing by a Jew's blood is based on arvut, that is, one's general responsibility towards all of Klal Yisrael. As we learn in Tanna D'vei Eliyahu 11: "Whoever can protest against a sin and does not, or can cause Israel to repent and does not – all blood that is spilled in Israel is on his hands… for all of Israel is responsible one for another." Arvut is a type of national mitzvah, one that requires of all of us to work to ensure the welfare of the nation at large, including by rebuking or reaching out to sinners to ensure that our nation is not punished. The obligation is therefore not to give rebuke per se, but rather to safeguard the nation.

* But the positive mitzvah, that of giving rebuke, is more pointed. It is not based on the principles of arvut and nationhood, but is rather a specific, individual commandment incumbent upon a Jew to give rebuke when the occasion arises.

The Situation Today

How are we to give rebuke today, when sins are so prevalent? The Chafetz Chaim cites an opinion (Sh. Ar. Orach Chaim 608, Beiur Halakhah) that only when it is within our power to enforce our rebuke are we obligated to do so. He adds that those who have totally "denied and shirked the yoke of mitzvot" need not be rebuked. Furthermore, writes the Chafetz Chaim, even the authoritative Rav Moshe Isserles, who says that purposeful sinners must be rebuked, would agree that sinners who perpetually flaunt their Torah violations need not be rebuked.

We must always keep in mind that which the Chazon Ish, and many after him, said, based on Maimonides: Most of today's sinners are considered like tinokot she'nishbu, babies who were brought up by Gentiles and who therefore have no knowledge whatsoever of a Torah way of life. They must therefore be approached with love, not anger or resentment, in order to return them to Judaism – and that is the bottom line of all rebuke.

Ki Tavo: Different Approaches to the Holocaust, etc.

Based on an article by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Close to half of this week's Torah portion of Ki Tavo (D'varim 26,1–29,8) is devoted to the tokhecha, a detailed list of unimaginably terrible curses that will befall the people of Israel if they do not hearken to G-d's word. We know that tragically, many if not all of these curses came to pass during the course of our history: with the destructions of both the First and Second Temples, and in the centuries in between and mainly afterwards, during our long Exile. The shadow of the destruction of European Jewry in the terrible Holocaust is still ever-present in our minds and memories.

How are we to deal with the fulfillment of these dreadful curses, faith-wise? For many of our brethren, it caused a crisis of faith. They experienced the horrors, sometimes face on, and simply could not accept that such things could happen in G-d's world. 

Even among the great leaders of Israel, there were different approaches in the struggle of faith in confronting the horror. There were those who took a strict approach of rebuke, saying that the horror was a direct consequence of straying from the path of G-d – precisely as the Torah states here in Ki Tavo. They even pointed to specific sins and sociological processes that brought about specific punishments, measure for measure.

Others opposed this approach of seeking specific sins in order to explain the Holocaust. In their view, the tokhecha and punishments are inherent in the destiny of the Jewish people until the coming of the Messiah, and its ultimate reasons are up to the Creator's will, for reasons known and understood to Him alone. One would need to be a prophet or even just a Tanna (sage of the Mishnah) to claim to understand the specific causes of what happened to us. Anyone who falls short of this level yet still claims such an understanding, tramples in vain upon the bodies of the martyrs who died for the sanctification of G-d’s Name, and misuses the power of interpreting and understanding Jewish history. This confusion arises not only when we seek to "explain" the Holocaust, but also when smaller or more personal tragedies befall us, whether they be wars, terror attacks, illnesses, and the like,

In response to those who explain the Shoah as a measure-for-measure punishment, their opponents challenge: "Are you speaking logically? Why would the Al-mighty need to bring upon us such dreadful things? Could He not have found gentler means by which to bring us back to the right path? And what about all those infants who neither sinned nor transgressed?"

But in response to them, the others say: "Does not the Torah say outright [here in Parashat Ki Tavo, et al] that severe punishments await the people of Israel if they do not listen to the voice of G-d?" Not only that, but Maimonides states clearly that to search for specific sins for which we were punished is the recommended path when punishment befalls us. In Mishneh Torah, Laws of Fasts 1:2–3, the Rambam writes (paraphrased): 

"This is among the ways of repentance: When calamity comes and the people cry out over it and sound the trumpets, everyone will then know that it was due to their sins – and this repentance will cause the calamity to be nullified. But if they do not cry out, etc., but instead say: "Whatever happened is merely the way of the world and happenstance" - this is actual cruelty, because it causes them to cling to their evil deeds, instead of to "search their ways and repent," and thus the calamity will bring upon them further calamities."

Foundations of Faith

“The ultimate of what we shall know of You is that we shall not know You. And yet we shall know Your existence — this is what remains for us from all our toil of study."
(by 14th-century Torah scholar Rabbi Yedaiah HaP'nini)

Without presuming to decide which of the above approaches is more correct, let us merely seek to understand our agreed-upon foundations of faith, according to the above teaching of the great sage and poet, our master Rabbi Yedaiah HaPenini. He seems to have taught here two foundations of faith that appear to be contradictory: "We know Your existence, but the only thing we know about You is that we cannot know You." How are we to understand this? 

Rational reflection on both recent and distant history leads to the clear and simple conclusion that "we know Your existence," that "the palace has a master," and that the Torah is true and are fulfilled precisely: "If you do not hearken to the voice of the Lord … then all these curses shall come upon you…" And as King Solomon writes in Proverbs (21,30), “There is no wisdom and no understanding and no counsel against the Lord.” 

But at the same time, it is also true that "the ultimate of what we know of You is that we do not know You." No one truly understands the ways of G-d; no one knows the calculations of Heaven. The debate is only about how to fulfill the Rambam’s directive to identify our sins: Should we point to specific sins, or should we repent in a more general way? 

But no one is capable of "understanding" G-d – and this is the ultimate knowledge of Him.

The Parable of the Farmer
The holy rabbi, leader and Shoah-victim Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman, may G-d avenge his blood, was asked during his final, terrifying days in Kovno, why such horrors had been decreed upon them. R. Elchanan told the following parable:

There was once a man who knew nothing of farming, who came to a farmer and asked him to teach him the work of the land. The farmer took him to his field and asked him what he saw. He said, “I see a plot of land, rich with greenery, pleasing to the eye.”

The guest then stood astonished as the farmer plowed under the greenery, turning the beautiful green field into heaps of low brown furrows. “Why did you destroy the field?” he exclaimed. “Patience, you’ll see,” said the farmer.

Later the farmer showed his guest a sack full of fine, nourishing wheat kernels, and asked him, "What do you see?" "Beautifully satisfying and appealing grain," he said. But he again looked on in shock as the farmer destroyed the valuable product, scattering the kernels along the furrows and casting them into the opened earth wherever he walked. He then covered the seeds with clods of soil.

“First you ruined the field," the guest demanded, "and now you’re wasting the grain! Have you lost your mind?”  

“Patience," said the farmer. "You’ll see.”

After some time, the farmer again brought his guest to the field. Now they beheld, as far as the eye could see, straight rows of green stalks sprouting and rising from the furrows. The guest smiled with relief: “I apologize. Now I understand what you did. The field is now more beautiful than ever. The farmer's work is truly amazing.”

“Not quite,” said the farmer. “A bit more patience, please.”

In time, the guest looked on with horror as the farmer cut down the fully-grown stalks; struck them and beat them until they turned into a mixture of straw and loose kernels; then loaded a wagon high with the grain and brought it to the mill where he ground it into powder. With each stage, the guest complained, and each time he was told to have patience. 

The same happened when the farmer brought the flour home, mixed it with water, and made a form of white mud. He then shaped it – and to the guest's horror, placed it into a burning furnace! 

At last, the farmer opened the oven and removed from it a fresh loaf of bread, golden and crisp, with an aroma that stirred the appetite. “Come,” said the farmer. "Enjoy the tasty and healthful bread. Now do you understand?!”

G-d is our Farmer, and we are the fools who have not even the faintest beginning of understanding of His ways or of the final outcome of His deeds. Only when the process is completed will the people of Israel know why all this has happened. When the Redemption process is complete, we shall understand all the steps that led up to it. Until then, we must gird ourselves with patience and faith that everything, even when it appears as destruction and suffering, is part of a process that will bring goodness and delight.

Va'etchanan: Keeping the Torah, Details and Principles

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

Moshe Rabbeinu continues his parting speech to the Children of Israel in this week's Torah portion of Va'etchanan (D'varim 3,23-7,11). This is just before his death and as the nation is about to enter the promised Land of Israel without him. In his speech, Moshe continues to emphasize the importance of keeping the Torah as they begin their national life in the Holy Land, repeating the Ten Commandments and telling them the principles of Sh'ma Yisrael.

At one point, Moshe says (6,24-25): "G-d commanded us to keep all these rules… It is our privilege to safeguard and observe this entire mandate before Hashem our G-d, as He commanded us."

A famous Talmudic teaching states, in the name of R. Samlai, that the Torah given to Moshe to give to Israel contains 613 commandments – 365 negative commandments of what not to do, corresponding to the days of the solar year, and 248 proactive commandments, corresponding to the organs of the human body. R. Hamnuna adds that this is alluded to in the Torah itself, in the verse, "Moshe commanded us the Torah as a legacy" (D'varim 33,4) – "Torah" that was given to Moshe to give to Israel is equal to 611 in gematriya, plus another two commandments that were commanded directly to Israel (the first two of the Ten Commandments), for a total of 613.

The Talmud then adds a fascinating but puzzling insight: "King David came and stood/established them on only 11 commandments, as he wrote in Psalms 15: “Lord, who shall sojourn in Your Tabernacle? Who shall dwell upon Your sacred mountain? He who walks wholeheartedly, and does righteousness, and speaks truth in his heart; who has no slander upon his tongue, nor does evil to his neighbor, nor takes up reproach against his relative; in whose eyes a vile person is despised, and honors those who fear the Lord; he takes an oath to his own detriment, and changes not. He neither gives his money with interest, nor takes a bribe against the innocent."

Rashi – actually, his student and son-in-law known as Rivan – explains: "At first, they were righteous and were able to fulfill many of the mitzvot, but in later generations, they were not as righteous, and if they would seek to fulfill all of them, no one would merit to do so. David them came and established them on 11 so that they would be meritorious if they would fulfill these…"

The famous question is of course, "Are the other 600-plus mitzvot then null and void simply because they became too hard?! This certainly cannot be!"

The Maharsha (a famous commentary on the Talmud by R. Shmuel Eliezer Edeles, 1555-1631) explains as follows [paraphrased]:

"Most of the 613 cannot be fulfilled by everyone: Most people are exempt from the Priestly mitzvot, and the priests are exempt from giving tithes to the Levites, and others cannot fulfill the commandments that apply only to the Land of Israel, etc., etc. The same is true for negative mitzvot: One does not fulfill the mitzvah of not eating non-kosher food, for instance, unless he was faced with that situation and overcame it. As such, how can we ever merit the World to Come? The answer is that the Prophets provided comprehensive principles of behavior for the entire Jewish Nation, which apply at all times and in all places. These 11 principles that David established include a great part of the Torah and apply to everyone at all time, and with these we can attain the World to Come."

Another explanation is provided by the renowned Rabbi Moshe Feinstein of New York (d. 1986) in his work Dibrot Moshe. He writes that the Gemara explains that the 11 principles of David are principles and character traits that one must adopt and live by in order to fulfill the entire Torah. As such, they are not "replacement" mitzvot, but rather attributes that we should adopt in order to overcome the negative behaviors we became accustomed to in our childhood, before we acquired the maturity to understand what is right and what is wrong. (See there for a learned discourse on whether character traits can be commanded, and more.)

May we merit to work hard and be privileged to "safeguard and observe this entire mandate before Hashem our G-d, as He commanded us" so that it may be "good for us all the days" (ibid. verse 24).

Dvarim: Moshe Rabbeinu's Mussar Shmooze to Israel

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of D'varim, which begins the Book of Deuteronomy, starts off with an introduction to Moshe Rabbeinu's parting speech to Israel before his death as they are about to enter the Promised Land: "These are the words that Moshe spoke to all of Israel on the [eastern] side of the Jordan River…"

The Medrash (Yalkut Shimoni 788) asks: "These are the words? Did he not prophecy much more than this over the years? He wrote the entire Torah! What is so special about these words?"

And the Medrash answers that these words were in fact special and particularly needed because they were words of rebuke, as Rashi on this first verse also explains.

Giving rebuke when necessary is in fact a Torah mitzvah, as written: "Surely admonish your neighbor, and do not bear sin because of him [alternatively: do not embarrass him with your rebuke]" (Vayikra 19,17). However, the details of this law were not spelled out there, such as who is commanded, under what circumstances, and how to give the rebuke. Here then, where we read about the admonishment that Israel's great teacher Moshe delivered, we have a chance to see how he fulfilled the mitzvah and learn the ideal way to do so.

Studying these verses and the words of our Sages thereupon, we find that there are seven conditions for effective rebuke.

The first and most well-known aspect of Moshe's rebuke is as written in Rashi: "Listed here are all the places in which the Children of Israel angered G-d with their sins; they are listed only by allusion [without mentioning precisely what happened in those places], in order that the honor of Israel not be marred."

The first condition, then, is to give rebuke in a manner that will show honor to the other person, i.e., in an indirect manner that will not embarrass him – and in this way, there is a chance that he will accept the admonishment.

The Medrash (D'varim Rabba 1,4) states: "It would have been appropriate for the rebukes to be said by Bilam and for the blessings to be said by Moshe - but if so, Israel would have said, 'Bilam hates us and that's why he rebukes us,' and the nations of the world would have, 'Moshe loves them and that's why he blesses them.' G-d therefore said that Moshe who loves them should rebuke them, and Bilam who hates them should bless them [Bamidbar 23-24]."

The second condition, then, for the rebuke to be accepted is that it must come from someone whom the subject of the rebuke knows loves him, and can therefore be sure of his sincerity.

#3 – The Medrash says that Moshe was the right man to admonish Israel because he had no ulterior motives, and never sought anything from his people, as he said during Korach's rebellion: "Not even one donkey did I take from them!" Thus, only one who cannot be suspected of having ulterior motives in rebuking someone can assume that his words will be properly heard.

#4 – We read here that Moshe delivered this speech to "all of Israel." Rashi says that if he had only rebuked some of them at a time, those who were not there would have said, 'What? You heard that from Amram's son [Moshe] and you did not answer him? You could have said such and such!" Moshe therefore gathered all of them together and said, "Whoever has what to answer, let him answer now."

This is true for individuals, who must be given a chance to answer and explain when they are rebuked – and all the more so, of course, for entire groups.

#5 – The Sages were very skeptical, to say the least, whether in their generation there was anyone who could rebuke, anyone who could accept rebuke, or anyone who knew how rebuke should be delivered. The Gemara cites the verse, "Do not reprove a scorner, lest he hate you; rebuke a wise man, and he will love you" (Mishlei 9,8).

We thus learn that one who would issue reproof must be sure not only that he knows how to reproach, and not only that his listener knows how to receive it, but also that the rebuke will lead to actual love between them, as in the cited verse from Mishlei.

#6 – The sixth condition is that one must calculate in advance all the possible ramifications of the rebuke - and then he must decide accordingly when is the best time to deliver the admonishment to ensure that it will be most effectively received. We learn this from Yaakov Avinu, as well as from Moshe, both of whom made sure to issue their reproaches (to his sons and to Bnei Yisrael, respectively) right before they [the rebukers] died. The Medrash explains four reasons why deathbed-rebuke is the best: so that the rebuked will not later see him and be embarrassed, and the like.

And the final condition: One must be on a high level before he tells others what they are doing wrong. As R. Tarfon says in the Gemara: "I am doubtful whether there is anyone in this generation who can accept rebuke, for if someone says, 'You have a splinter in your teeth,' they will retort, 'You have a board between your eyes!"

Thus, the 7^th condition is the most difficult one of all: He who reproves must be a tzaddik, so that he cannot be told that he is guilty of even worse sins than he is rebuking about! And if this was said in the generation of the holy Tannaitic sages, how much more so is this true nowadays, when we have none who know how to rebuke and therefore no one who knows how to be rebuked.

The Chafetz Chaim writes in the name of Rav Y. Mullen, and the Maharam of Lublin agrees, that this is why it is a mitzvah to love those who do not keep the Torah – because they have never been properly rebuked before, given that no one knows how to do so correctly, and therefore they don't know the proper way to act!

Love your fellow – and then he will want you to show him the right way!

Mattot-Masei: What is Truth? Between an Oath and a Vow

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah reading is a double portion, Mattot and Mas'ei (beginning in Bamidbar 30,2 until the end of the Book, chapter 36). Mattot begins with a set of laws given to Moshe Rabbeinu regarding vows: "If a man makes a vow to G-d, or swears to prohibit something to himself - he may not violate his word; whatever comes out of his mouth, he shall do."

The Medrash Tanchuma says that this mitzvah is a type of warning from G-d: "Be very careful with vows (nedarim); do not violate them, for whoever does so, will end up violating oaths (sh'vuot) – which is like denying the existence of G-d, and will never be forgiven, as is written, 'G-d will not cleanse he who takes His name in vain'" (Sh'mot 20,6).

Why are vows and oaths so severe that their violation appears to be worse than a regular lie? And what about oaths is worse and graver than vows, that violating the former is like denying G-d?

The Medrash Bamidbar Rabba (22,1) quotes Jeremiah 4,2: “You will take an oath: As the Lord lives, in truth, in justice and in righteousness” (4,2). The Medrash says that the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Israel: "Do not think it is permitted for you to take an oath in My name, even a truthful one. You are permitted to swear in My name only if you have all these attributes: You are G-d-fearing, you serve G-d exclusively, and you cleave to G-d." Two verses in Deuteronomy (6,13 and 10,20) link "permission" to take an oath with the traits of fearing G-d and serving Him [and one of the verses also adds "cleaving to G-d"].

The Medrash continues to say that we must be G-d-fearing like Abraham, Job, and Joseph. Abraham – as G-d told him: “For now I know that you are God-fearing” (B'reshit 22,12); Job, as is written about him: “A virtuous and upright man, fearing God” (Job 1,8). And Joseph, as he told Pharaoh, “It is G-d that I fear” (B'reshit 42,18).

The Medrash also cites verses regarding the importance of serving G-d exclusively, explaining that we must devote ourselves to Torah and to engaging in mitzvot, and have no other work. And finally, the third trait: “To Him you shall cleave” (Deuteronomy 10,20) – the Medrash asks: "How can a person cleave to the Divine Presence? Is it not stated that "the Lord your God is a consuming fire” (ibid. 4,24)?  Rather, the verse means: Anyone who marries his daughter to a scholar who studies Bible and Mishna, and engages in commerce, and benefits [the scholar] from his property – he is the one about whom it is stated: “To Him you shall cleave.”

The Medrash concludes that only one with these qualities is permitted to take an oath." To back this up, the Medrash recounts an incident involving King Yannai, "who had two thousand cities - and all of them were destroyed due to oaths that were fulfilled. How so? One person would say to another: ‘I swear that I am going to such and such place, and I will drink something in such and such place,’ and then they would go and fulfill their oath - and the cities were destroyed. If this is the punishment for taking a true oath, how much more so for one who takes a false oath."

This strong point also raises a strong question. We know that the Torah permits us to take an oath or make a vow, and merely requires us to make sure to fulfill them. Why the does the Medrash indicate that one is not permitted to swear even for truth? And if it is in fact such a grave sin, even leading to the destruction of 2,000 cities of King Yannai, why is it permitted for one who fears G-d and marries his daughter to a Torah scholar whom he supports?

Let us first understand the difference between oaths and vows. The Yalkut Shimoni says that making a vow is like vowing in the life of the king, while taking an oath is like swearing upon the king himself. Homiletic support for this is brought from the words of Elisha the Prophet to his mentor Eliyahu (Kings II 2,2): "By the life of G-d, and by the life of your soul."

The Ramban to this chapter in Bamidbar states simply: "Every vow is to G-d, and every oath is 'by' G-d."

Let us delve further. We know that it is forbidden to lie. If one says he will do something, even without a vow or an oath, he is obligated to keep his word, for the Torah commands, "From words of deception stay away" (Sh'mot 23,7). Regarding those who do not keep their word, our Sages taught: "He who punished the generation of the Flood, and the generation of the Tower of Babel, and the people of S'dom and Amora, and the Egyptians in the Sea of Reeds – He will be punish those who do not keep their word" (Bava Metzia 48a, Shulchan Aruch C.M. 33,4).

What is added to the prohibition by making a vow or taking an oath?

The Sefer HaChinukh, which explains in detail all 613 Torah mitzvot, says the following, in one of the mitzvot (#74) having to do with speaking falsehood:

"… falsehood is abominable and vile in the eyes of all. There is nothing more disgusting than it, and malediction and curse are in the house of those who adhere to it. This is because the blessed God is a truthful God, and everything with Him is true. Blessing is found only upon those who try to emulate Him: to be truthful, like He is truthful, and to be merciful and do kindness, as these are His attributes as well. But anyone whose deeds are the opposite of His good traits and who act with deception, the opposite of His traits will similarly always rest upon them. The opposite of blessing is malediction; the opposite of the joy and peace and enjoyment with Him is worry, strife and pain… Therefore the Torah warned us to distance ourselves much from falsehood, as is written, "From words of deception stay away." The Torah did not simply say it is forbidden, but rather that we must stay far from it, something it does not mention in the other warnings - due to it being very vile…"

A person makes a vow when he wishes to strengthen his commitment and add a measure of obligation to that which he has said he will do. The problem is that this implies a denial of the fact that he is obligated to keep his word even without a vow. When he takes an oath, which is "by G-d," the problem is even greater – for G-d is a G-d of truth, and if he dares not to comply with what he swore to do, there is no greater denial of G-d than this; by violating his word, he is actually declaring that he does not believe in G-d and sees no need to fulfill his commitment that he took in His name! And on the other hand, even if he does fulfill his oath, why did he feel the need for such a powerful additional obligation in order to do the right thing? It shows the weakness of his attribute of truth, as if without the oath he would not feel obligated to keep his word.

We are thus left with the original question: Since taking an oath is so negative and indicates a weakness in one's propensity to truth, why is a G-d-fearing person who cleaves to the Divine Presence permitted to take an oath?

The answer is: On the contrary! Precisely his being a "man of truth" is what explains why he is taking this oath! For in the above verse the Torah links together "G-d-fearing, men of truth," showing that they are one and the same. And one who "cleaves to G-d," as in the examples above (marrying his daughter to a Torah scholar, etc.), thus cleaves to the G-d of truth, and is certainly someone who will always keep his word – even without an oath or vow.

When he takes an oath, then, he is not doing it to strengthen himself, but rather to make a declaration. He is stating that he keeps his word not only because he is upright and honest, or because that is the logical thing to do as one who lives with others – but because his attribute of truth is another expression of his attachment to G-d. Thus, his oath is not a weakness, but an add-on of strength!

We see that two people can do the exact same thing, and while for one it is forbidden, because it expresses weakness in his commitment to truth and closeness to G-d – for the other it is permitted and welcome, because it manifests a powerful measure of truth and added nearness to Hashem.

Pinhas: Covenant of Peace to a Zealous Hero

by Rav Yosef Tzvi Rimon, Rabbi of the Gush Etzion Regional Council, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Last week's Torah portion ends with Pinchas killing a sinning couple, and this week's portion - Pinchas, Bamidbar 25,10–30,1 - ends with G-d giving him His "covenant of peace." This requires explanation!

The Torah originally told us that the Israelites had been sinfully drawn to the Moavite women, resulting in a massive and lethal Divine plague. To make matters even worse, Zimri, a leading member of the Tribe of Shimon, publicly took a Midianite woman – and Pinchas killed them both; this stopped the plague. The Torah then states, at the beginning of this week's portion: "Pinchas son of Elazar son of Aharon the Priest reversed My anger against the Children of Israel, in being zealous for My sake… Therefore say: 'I hereby give him My covenant of peace.'"

Why does Pinchas receive such a covenant? How are we to understand the turn of events in this story?

Rashi explains that there is in fact no connection between a covenant of peace and what Pinchas did – but there is certainly a connection between the covenant and the result of what Pinchas did. Rashi says that when G-d gave him a covenant of peace, it means that it "should be a covenant of peace for him; just as a man owes gratitude and favor to someone who did him a kindness, so too, here G-d expressed to him His sentiments of peace."

That is, Pinchas did a type of kindness for G-d, according to Rashi, and in reward for this Kiddush Hashem (Sanctification of G-d's Name), he received a covenant of peace with G-d. The idea apparently is that Pinchas created a Kiddush Hashem in the world, and thus received a reward in kind. As similarly explained by the Alshekh: "He received this covenant for having publicized and sanctified My name before all."

On the other hand, other commentaries - the Chizkuni and the Ibn Ezra - explain that there is a direct connection between the actual act that Pinchas did and the reward he received. Since there was a real fear that Zimri's relatives would seek to kill Pinchas in revenge, G-d appeased him by saying that he need not be afraid, because He would protect him and ensure his welfare, his peace. As the Chizkuni explains, "The covenant of peace means that Pinchas need not fear the relatives of Zimri and Cozbi [the Midianite harlot]."

 My esteemed teacher and Rabbi, the late Rav Aharon Lichtenstein (Rosh Yeshivat Har Etzion and son-in-law of Rav Soloveitchik) once explained that Pinchas was a man totally involved in pursuing peace. The Prophet Malachi said about him that G-d's "covenant was with him, life and peace" (2,5). But despite his peace-loving nature, he recognized that there are times of crisis when other types of actions are called for – actions of war. Pinchas knew how to act correctly and to fight even when others did not.

However, performing this deed of zealotry still left a concern: Perhaps it would somewhat diminish Pinchas’ sensitivity. This fear is reinforced by the words of the Ramban, who wrote that even the most ethical person loses something of his morality by being involved in war. There is thus a fear that perhaps Pinchas would no longer be on the same spiritual level as before. G-d therefore promised to "give him My covenant of peace" – a Divine promise that Pinchas would definitely return to the same spiritual state he had been in, and that the act of killing would not mar his exalted character.

To this we can add: The image of the Priest is one of peace; this is why the Priests bless the Nation of Israel with peace, as in the third part of the Priestly Blessing: "Yisa Hashem Panav, May G-d raise His countenance towards you and give you peace." Pinchas assumedly drew his nature of peace from his grandfather, Aharon HaCohen, who was known as a "lover of peace and pursuer of peace" (Pirkei Avot 1).

As mentioned, even a man of peace must sometimes go out and make battle. Even a man of peace knows that enemies – those of Israel and those of G-d – must be fought and struck down. Even a man of peace knows that one who has pity and compassion on terrorists is actually a criminal himself, one who fights against peace, not only at home but also around the world. Sometimes one must actually fight for peace!

The fact that great demands are made upon Priests is alluded to by the law that only those who are "perfect," that is, with no physical defect [as outlined in the Talmud and Halakhah], are fit to serve as Priests in the Holy Temple service. Our Sages stated (Kiddushin 66b) that the word shalom (peace) in the phrase "My covenant of peace," is written with a broken letter vuv, and thus can be read without the vuv as "shalem," meaning "complete." In short, the priests must be "complete."

Pinchas manifests completeness. He received, "My covenant of shalom/shalem, peace/completeness." He is a man of peace who, as a close descendant of Aharon, loves peace. knows how to make peace between people, and knows that the efforts to attain peace sometimes require extreme means that actually destroy and remove that which is bad from the world.

May it be G-d's will that we all merit to receive the blessing of peace: "May G-d raise His countenance towards you and give you peace." 

Balak: Bilam [No Nation] and Balak - Dealing with Domestic Strife

by Rav Haggai Londin, Rosh Yeshivat Holon and author of a series of books on the writings of Rav Kook, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

An answer to those who demand condemnations of idealistic residents of Judea and Samaria: The latter are dedicating their lives to the Nation of Israel and we must kiss their hands.

Of late [during the height of the opposition to the proposed judicial reform as well as some unruly protests by residents of Judea and Samaria], I have received a small number of calls from people demanding (!) that I and other rabbis publicly condemn what they call the "settler disturbances." I explained to them gently that first of all, I don't work for them... And secondly, I said that their timing was perfect, just as we are about to read Parashat Balak (Bamidbar 22,2-25,9) and the story of the Gentile prophet Bilam, the Moabite king Balak, and their desire to curse Israel.

What’s the connection between Balak and the complaints against the "settlers"? Let us explain.

The story begins when King Balak of Moav hires Bilam to curse the entire holy nation. Bilam is a type of old-style wizard whose name tells us much about him: Bli-am means "without a people," that is, one who is focused on his own personal interests and is detached from any broader national context. People of that ilk tend to curse - lekalel, from the same root as kal (lightweight) - and make light and low of everything.

There are different types of "no nation" people: They can be those who threaten to remove their kippah (yarmulke) and cease being religiously observant if their brand of morals is not adopted by rabbis; or they can be IDF officers in the reserves who declare one day, "This is not my country" if the judicial reform passes; and they can be formerly observant Jews (datlashim, in the vernacular) who strangely invest efforts in maligning the homes and schools in which they were raised, under the illusion that this will bring peace to their conflicted souls.

What these tiresome Bilams don't realize is that after they're finished being embraced by the progressives, they will remain alone in the darkness. The Jewish nation, the Jewish tradition, and the Jewish state will continue along without them – and perhaps it is better that way.

Bilam references himself as sh'tum haayin, which has various explanations – but the Talmud explains it to mean "blinded" (Niddah 31a, Sanhedrin 105a). That is, this man with no nation, no family, and no circle of belonging has only a partial and bitter viewpoint, focusing constantly on the deficiencies that certainly exist in Israel and in the world, but missing time after time the entire picture. That's how it is when one looks at reality with a scowl; he'll only see a partial slice thereof.

Bilam is also called a "magician" (Yehoshua 13,22). There is something very magical in feeling that you're always right, and in yelling at your own people and telling them how wrong they are.

So much for curses, klalot. The word for blessing, on the other hand, is bracha, from the same root meaning "to graft," to connect a branch to the earth so that it will take root and sprout a new tree. One who does so takes a broad view that focuses on the good, and on the overall picture of the place to which he belongs, and therefore grows good things. 

Looking Inward

In Bilam's first attempt to curse Israel at the request of Balak, he says of the people of Israel (Bamidbar 23,9): "For from the top of the mountain rocks I see [Israel], and from the hills I behold him. Behold, a people that dwells alone and is not counted among the nations. Who can count the dust of Jacob or [the hordes of] Israel? Let me die the death of the righteous, but let my end be like his."

The Three Stages of Goodness
The Sages say that the "rocks" refer to our Patriarchs and Matriarchs, the forebears of the nation. Bilam recognizes the goodness that is at the root of the people of Israel in their foundational source. Similarly, when people seek a point of innocence and happiness in their lives, they often find it in their happy childhood, which attests to the positive source of their lives. As the years pass, there are setbacks and wrong turns, but life at its source remains good. Even grim, cynical people can usually not avoid smiling to themselves upon seeing a baby – because the starting point of a person reflects his goodness, the inner point that gets lost over the course of life. Bilam, too, find the goodness in the roots of reality, and his "accursed" view becomes one of blessing.

Bilam's second attempt is recounted in chapter 23, verses 19-25. He has moved on from reflecting on Israel's years of babyhood, and now focuses on its adolescence, which also features blessing. Bilam is now looking at the period of time when Israel has left its infancy behind, has escaped from Egypt, and is moving on toward being G-d's holy people. Despite all the troubles and even sins, the broad perspective shows us that the world, and the Jewish people, are moving up and improving. There is more blessing and more light.

Finally, on Bilam's third attempt (24,3-9), he tries a new approach: "Bilam saw that it was good in the eyes of G-d to bless Israel." He still looked for sins of Israel that he could focus on, but this too ended with a blessing: "How goodly are your tents, Yaakov." Our Sages explain that he saw how Israel's tents were set up such that no door faced the door of any other, for reasons of modesty. This expresses a third way of identifying the "inner point" – not just by looking at the source, not just by looking at the history, but by looking at Israel's way of life and its daily mores. This is a view of modesty, of convergence. That is, as opposed to the external, outward, critical, intellectual view, one can look inward at his own private tent and see all the goodness that he has built up to that point.

In the lives of every one of us, there are moments that we experience a Bilam-like way of looking at things. It can come, for instance, during adolescence, when we realize that our parents aren't as perfect as we always thought. This leads us to fear that we may have actually lived our lives in error. It can also happen on a national level: New immigrants to Israel arrive with Zionist fervor, until gradually this exciting feeling is at least partially eroded by the difficulties of absorption, leading them to suspect that they were tricked.

Spiritually, too: At the beginning of one's path, he meets up with the great light of Torah study, is entranced by his Torah-scholar rabbis and teachers, and is greatly enthralled. At a later stage, however, he realizes that things are not perfect – and some then react with an instinct to "slaughter sacred cows" and to say that everything is corrupt and depraved.

This is of course a grave mistake! Yes, there is certainly much complexity in the world, including hypocrisy and evil intentions. But fundamentally, the world is good; it is Divine. Despite all that is bad, ultimately everything leads to goodness and blessing.

Practically speaking, in terms of current events: The public known as the "settlers" of Judea and Samaria is the most wonderful sector living in Israel today. They are pioneers, men of Torah, army officers, and much more, who dedicate their lives to the great and just truth of Jewish settlement and control of the Biblical and strategic areas of Judea and Samaria. We should kiss the hands of every single one of them. Yes, there are some who do not respond particularly calmly when they witness their friends being murdered by Palestinian terrorists, they sense that law enforcement appears to be insufficient. If one behaves criminally, he must fact the legal consequences – but the actions of individual few and far between cannot reflect on the entire public.

What is important now is to strengthen our resilience and our faith. The words of Bilam after his moment of clarity help us understand faith: 'How goodly are your tents, O Jacob.' That is, how much goodness there is in our people, how much determination, how much courage! There is also a 'no' – no to breaking the law, no to anarchy. But above all, there is a 'yes'! Yes to continue settling and building, yes to add another thousand housing units in Eli and Ariel and Shavei Shomron, yes to ignore the Bilams in our midst, and yes – we will prevail thanks to the settlers. Thank you, heroes of Judea and Samaria; you are our saviors!

Hukat: The Torah - On Beyond our Intellect

by Rav Avraham Shapira zt"l, former Chief Rabbi of Israel and Rosh Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion is Chukat (Bamidbar 19,1-22,1), where the word "Chukat" refers to the unexplained decree (chok, pronounced ḥoke) of the Red Heifer and its laws.

That is, even though we do not and cannot understand the reasons that the Torah commanded us to burn a red cow and sprinkle its ashes in a special mixture to purify us from the impurity of death, we must still fulfill it.

While the details of the Red Heifer are spelled out here in Parashat Chukat, it was originally commanded us just after the Splitting of the Red Sea, in a place called Marah. The Torah tells us in Parashat Beshalach: "It was there that He gave them a decree and a law, and there He tested them" (Sh'mot 15,25); Rashi explains that this refers to the decree of the Red Heifer.

The laws spelled out in Chukat were given nearly a year later, on the eighth day of the Levites' miluim inauguration period [on Rosh Chodesh Nissan according to most opinions]. The next verse after these laws immediately takes us 38 years later, towards the end of the Israelites' 40-year sojourn in the desert. (Rashi explains why the Red Heifer was written just before that which happened nearly 40 years later.)

We can add that the Torah thus teaches us, at the end of this long period, that all the mitzvot are a type of "decree and law," and they must all be fulfilled as a form of bearing the yoke of Torah. As the Sages of the Medrash teach: "The mitzvot were given just to refine Israel." And the Rambam emphasized at length (at the end of the Laws of Me'ilah) the importance of fulfilling even the mitzvot that we do not understand.

Regarding the end of the miluim week, the Torah states: "As [was done] on this day, G-d commanded to do…" (Vayikra 8,34) – and the Gemara (Yoma 3) derives that this is referring to the Red Heifer. That is, the emphasis of the Red Heifer is to "do," even without understanding, as we thus accept the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven.

The laws of the Red Heifer in Parashat Chukat also include the laws of the circumstances that render a person impure. These laws begin with the words (19,14), "This is the Torah – the law – [of] one who dies in a tent [and how this impurity is imparted to others]." From the fact that the word "Torah" is used here regarding one who dies, the Sages derive homiletically that "Torah study cannot endure if one does not 'die' over it" - i.e., he must devote himself totally and whole-heartedly to Torah learning.

This guidance is derived particularly from the passage of the Red Heifer, and applies to the entire Torah as well – for the Red Heifer passage is a prototype of how to fulfill all the mitzvot: by accepting the yoke of Torah. One aspect of accepting this yoke is by working very hard to study and understand the Torah's words, to "die" over it. This is why the Torah begins here by saying, "This is the decree of the Torah" (19,2), and not, "This is the decree of the Red Heifer" – because we must study Torah in this unquestioning but intense manner regarding all the mitzvot.

In Tractate Shabbat (p. 88a-b) we learn:

"A certain heretic said to Rava: "You [Israelites] are an impulsive nation, acting without thinking: Why did you say [Sh'mot 24,7] naaseh v'nishma, that you will keep the Torah before even hearing what it involves?" Rava answered him: "We walk with integrity and simple trust of G-d, as is written, 'The integrity of the upright will guide them' (Proverbs 11,3)."

Rava made clear to the heretic that for us, fulfilling the Torah is not an intellectual pursuit that we do only if we understand it, but rather because it is G-d's will.

The Talmud (Kiddushin p. 31) cites a famous incident in which the Sages of Israel wished to pay 60 myriads for precious stones for the High Priest's breast plate, but the Gentile seller's son did not agree to wake up his father even for such an extravagant sum. Later, G-d merited the Gentile with the birth in his herd of a Red Heifer – for which the Sages paid the same 60 myriads that the seller had "lost" earlier. It is said in the name of the author of the K'tzot HaChoshen that the Gentile was willing to sacrifice a large sum for the mitzvah of honoring his father – a mitzvah that is easily understood – while the Sages sacrificed for the mitzvah of Red Heifer, a decree whose reason was not given to us to understand with human logic.

May G-d grant us the privilege of serving Him with all our hearts and to walk with simple trust in His decrees, Amen.