Eikev: Peshat and Derash of Birkat HaMazon

 As we mentioned earlier this week, the Torah in Parashat Eikev introduces the obligation of birkat ha-mazon, which requires reciting a berakha after eating a meal: "You shall eat and be satiated, and you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land that He has given you" (8:10).

            Although it is accepted that this verse indeed serves as the Biblical source of this obligation, a brief review of its context reveals the possibility of a different reading:

For the Lord your God is bringing you to a good land – a land of streams of water, wellsprings and fountains that flow in the valleys and mountains, a land of wheat and barley, of grapes, figs and pomegranates…a land in which you may eat bread without stint, where you lack nothing – a land whose stones are iron and from whose mountains you shall mine copper.  You shall eat and be satiated, and you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land that He has given you. (8:7-10)

This verse appears amidst Moshe's description of the bounty that awaits Benei Yisrael in their destined homeland across the Jordan River, and his promise of the material prosperity they will enjoy in the land.  Accordingly, Shadal contends that on the level of peshuto shel mikra (the straightforward, plain reading of the text), Moshe's comment, "You shall eat and be satiated, and you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land" expresses not a command, but rather a promise.  Moshe here promises the people that the delights of Eretz Yisrael will inspire them to give praise and thanks to the Almighty.  They will be so overcome by gratitude and joy that they will naturally burst forth in praise of God for the special land to which He has brought them.  It is only in the next verses, Shadal claims, in which Moshe warns, "Be careful lest you forget the Lord your God…lest you eat and be satiated …and your heart shall become haughty," that Moshe gives instructions and issues warnings and commands.  But here, when he speaks of Benei Yisrael blessing God for the good land, he refers to an instinctive response to the bounty of Eretz Yisrael, rather than an obligation of birkat ha-mazon.

            According to Shadal's reading, this verse might serve as an enlightening example of the interplay between peshat and derash, between the plain meaning of the text and the process of halakhic exegesis, of how these two levels of interpretation often complement one another.  Indeed, the plain reading of the text indicates that Moshe foresees Benei Yisrael's instinctive rush of joy and outburst of praise for the Almighty.  The derash reading, however, recognizes the fact that enjoying the blessings of the world is not always followed by an instinctive desire to give praise to God.  While there is indeed a human instinct of gratitude, there is also a competing, equally powerful tendency to take the world's blessings for granted, and to complain about what one does not have rather than feel grateful for what he does have.  Therefore, while on the peshat level Moshe here gives a prediction, rather than a command, on the level of derash this verse introduces an obligation of birkat ha-mazon, to genuinely feel and express gratitude to the Almighty for the blessings and prosperity with which He has graced us.

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Haftarat Eikev: Remembering the Walls of Jerusalem

 The haftara for Parashat Eikev, which is taken from Sefer Yeshayahu (chapter 49), begins with Benei Yisrael’s lament that God has eternally forsaken them, and then proceeds to deliver God’s response to their mournful cries.  In this prophecy God declares, “Chomotayikh negdi tamid” – which literally means, “Your walls are opposite Me at all times.”  In its narrowest sense, this phrase means that the ruins of Jerusalem are constantly on God’s mind, so-to-speak.  Whereas the people feared that God has forsaken and forgotten them, in truth, He is forever mindful of the shattered walls of Jerusalem and its Mikdash, and guarantees their eventual restoration.  (See Radak and Metzudat David.)

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary to the haftarot, adds that the term “walls” in this verse may also be understood figuratively, as a generic reference to all sources of Benei Yisrael’s protection and strength.  God promises to personally fortify all the nation’s “walls,” everything to which they look for security.  This promise includes as well Benei Yisrael’s spiritual “walls,” the Torah which serves as their primary source of pride and protection.  God here guarantees that the Torah, like Zion’s physical walls, will ultimately survive the attempts of those who try to destroy it by distorting its meaning and messages.  As long as the Jewish people themselves work to preserve the integrity and authentic meaning of the Torah, God will do His share in ensuring the failure of all attempts to distort it.  Rav Hirsch writes:

These words contain an infinitely comforting assurance to all those who, amidst the struggles and turmoil of the times, make the Torah their task in life, that it – for it is the life-soul of Zion – will be protected from being forgotten and misunderstood, but rather it will be brought to be realized and recognized.  When we consider how gloomy the prospect in this direction seems to be up to this day, how little, even in the circles of the sons and daughters of Zion, there is a clear conception of the nature of Judaism, what misunderstandings, what hostility and insinuations he who dares to stand up unreservedly for the Torah is subjected to from the most different sides, sides most widely opposed to each other, Jewish and non-Jewish, then the full meaning of this assurance stands out in all its clarity: Do not allow yourselves to be misled by any lack of success! is what these words say…

So long as we continue working to building and fortifying the “walls” of Torah, by continuing the ongoing process of transmitting and elucidating our scholarly tradition, then the Almighty will guarantee the success of this most crucial endeavor, and protect the Torah from being forgotten and misconstrued.

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Love the Foreigner - for You Were a Foreigner

   The Torah commands in Parashat Eikev, “You shall love the foreigner, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt” (10:19).  The Ramban, commenting on this verse, makes reference to his remarks earlier in his Torah commentary, in Parashat Mishpatim (Shemot 20:22), regarding the verse, “You shall not cause distress to a foreigner or oppress him, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt.”  According to the Ramban, the Torah here warns against feeling confident in the foreigner’s vulnerability.  One reason why people oppress foreigners is simply because they can; they feel that a foreigner lacks the connections and resources to defend himself, and thus abuse will go unpunished.  The Torah here warns that just as God stepped in to defend Benei Yisrael when they were oppressed foreigners in Egypt, He will also intervene to protect the helpless foreigner from those who torment and abuse him.

 

The Ramban makes reference in this context to the verse in Parashat Shemot (2:23) which describes how in response to Benei Yisrael’s cries in Egypt, “their plea ascended to God from the labor.”  According to the Ramban, this means that God accepted the people’s pleas not because of their worthiness, because they deserved to be helped, but rather “min ha-avoda” (“from the labor”) – because of their suffering.  God defends the downtrodden and the oppressed, and the people’s suffering itself was thus the reason why God sent the plagues against the Egyptians and delivered Benei Yisrael from bondage.  By the same token, the Torah warns, if we oppress a foreigner, He will intervene and come to the foreigner’s defense.  And thus we are commanded, “You shall love the foreigner, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt.”  Our nation’s experience of suffering followed by triumph over Egypt demonstrates that our perceived advantage over the poor, defenseless foreigner is not real, for God Himself eventually rises to his defense.

 

            According to the Ramban, the message introduced here by the Torah is as much theological as it is ethical.  It is a reminder that perceived advantages and disadvantages that we have over one another are only perceived, for in actuality, the outcome is always determined only by God.  We must never feel overly confident in the face of a seemingly feeble adversary, or overwhelmed in the face of an outwardly superior opponent.  Instead, we must remember “ki geirim heyitem be-eretz Mitzrayim.”  God comes to the aid of the oppressed, and we must therefore never feel confident enough to take advantage of the weak or desperate enough to panic before the mighty.  Ultimately, advantages and disadvantages mean nothing, as God alone determines the victor and the loser.

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The Condemned City and the Remote City

The Talmudic sugya (discussion) about the “Condemned City” (Ir Nidahat) is a fascinating one, revealing strong disputes relating to a sinful community. The Talmudic discussion also presents the positions and standings of the different factors in the decision- making process leading to pesak (Halakhic rulings) in this matter.

There are two polar opposite positions among the Sages regarding the type of effort required to bring the people of the sinful city to justice. An example of this phenomenon is manifest in two contradictory Halakhic Midrashim, both of which are based on the verse “And thou shalt gather all the spoil of it into the midst of the broad place [rehov] thereof” (Deut. 13:17, JPS 1917 trans.). What happens if the city has no “rehov” (road, broad place or public square)?

Our Rabbis taught: If it has no public square [rehov], it cannot become a condemned city: this is R. Ishmael's view. R. Akiba said: If it has no public square, a public square is made for it.

(B. Talmud Sanhedrin 112a, Soncino trans; Rabbi Akiva’s strict opinion is brought verbatim in 10:6 of the Mishna of Tractate Sanhedrin, without the opposing view of Rabbi Yishmael.)

What’s common to both Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Yishmael is that they each acknowledge that there must be a rehov (broad place or public square) in a Condemned City. Otherwise, the command of the verse to “gather all the spoil of it into the midst of the broad place thereof” – cannot be fulfilled to the letter.

According to Rabbi Yishmael, if there is no rehov, it is impossible to judge it by the strict laws of the Condemned City, which include the burning of all the contents of the city, and the killing of the men, women, and children who inhabit it.

Rabbi Akiva’s opinion, however, is to reject any room for leniency due to a technical lack of a rehov in the city. He would say to hire a construction company to come and build one, gather the spoils of the city there, and ultimately destroy it along with the rest of the city’s infrastructure as the city is burned down.

A similar debate appears regarding the burning of the city and all its spoils by fire – every whit (“kalil” in Hebrew). Here, too, there are two homiletic interpretations that go in opposite directions. On the one hand: “the spoil thereof' [implies], but not the spoil of heaven. Hence it was ruled, the holy objects therein must be redeemed; the terumoth allowed to rot; and the second tithe and the sacred writings hidden” (Mishna Sanhedrin 10:6; Soncino trans.).

This midrashic reading assumes that spoils which are not part of the fiscal assets of the city’s inhabitants cannot be burned, as such spoils as Trumoth (priestly gifts) and sanctified items really belong to God. Therefore, the instructions are to wait until the Terumah decays and has its holy status removed, to bury holy books, and to redeem the sanctified animals.

The other view, however, has a lenient reading of the verse:

For it has been taught, R. Eliezer said: No city containing even a single mezuzah can be condemned. Why so? Because the Bible saith [in reference thereto], And thou shalt gather all the spoil of it in the midst of the street thereof and shalt burn [them]. But if it contains a single mezuzah, this is impossible, because it is written, [And ye shall destroy the names of them — i.e., the idols — …] Ye shall not do so unto the Lord your God. (Sanhedrin 71a; Soncino trans.)

According to Rabbi Eliezer’s opinion, the presence of “spoils of Heaven” in the city prevent the city from being designated as a Condemned City because it is prohibited to burn or destroy sacred items, as is derived from the verse “Ye shall not do so unto the LORD your God” (Deut. 12:4, JPS 1917 trans.; - We are commanded to uproot altars and their accoutrements used for idolatrous worship, and we are prohibited to take similar action against that which is related to worship of God). The fact that sacred items are found among the city’s spoils serves to completely prevent the execution of any part of the sentence.

These two approaches (and the differences between them) may derive from a dispute about how zealous the People of Israel are to be in order to stamp out fringe elements: One approach follows the dictum of “Let justice pierce the mountain” (yikov ha-din et ha-har) – all strength must be brought in full force in order to crush the threat, leaving no survivors or remnants. The other approach calls for acting with restraint and tolerance, and to give the benefit of the doubt -to try to judge favorably as much as possible so as not to cut off and destroy to such an enormous extent.

In effect, a deeper philosophical debate is underlying the question of the nature of the Condemned City phenomenon. The two examples above demonstrate that both opinions agree that in order for a city to be a Condemned City, it needs to have a rehov and cannot contain objects of sanctity.  That said, the two examples ascribe very different meanings to the lack of a rehov and the presence of sacred items. The strict opinion sees these elements as mere technicalities that come with some additional procedures – temporary obstacles which can be resolved. In contrast, the forgiving view argues that a city without a rehov is not a true city; rather, it is a neglected suburb or slum district, an at risk-neighborhood, or a poor area. The presence of a mezuza there, or terumoth and tithes, demonstrates that the deterioration of the town can still be rectified – that there is a glimmer of hope for rehabilitation, and that the “illness” isn’t a terminal one.  Our reading here has an interesting precedent in the rule that border towns or cities in the periphery are not to be designated as Condemned Cities:

                A city on the border may not be condemned.

    Why?

  — Because the Torah says: From the midst of thee, but not [a city] on the border. (Sanhedrin 16b)

This Halakhic Midrash teaches that if the city that is to be condemned is found on the border of the Land of Israel, it is not to be designated as a Condemned City. The reason comes from the interpretation of the term from the verse: “within your midst.” Needless to say, this Midrash Halakha is a conceptual one. People who live on the border of the Land of Israel, in the periphery, are not part of the central core of the nation. Inhabitants of the periphery who stray from the correct path certainly constitute a worrying phenomenon, but not one that reflects or threatens the nation as a whole.

The sad phenomenon of the marginalized and disenfranchised fringe elements of society - located on the “ragged edges” of the periphery -- is a familiar one.

                Rabbi Shimon’s stricter approach, though, highlights another aspect of the exemption for towns in remote areas. According to his opinion, a town on the border is not to be designated as a Condemned City because the execution of its punishment can lead to a security risk for the rest of the country. Destroying a border city can unwittingly pave the way for enemies in the vicinity to infiltrate and seize control of the now-empty lands. In his words: “near the border, even a single city cannot be condemned. Why? Lest the Gentiles become aware of it and destroy the whole of Eretz Yisrael” (Sanhedrin 16b; Soncino trans.).

                We can see that, as opposed to the forgiving and accommodating view, the more exacting approach places the needs of the People of Israel at the forefront. A corrupted city is to be destroyed, its terumoth will rot, main street areas that are lacking will be built and then destroyed. All of this is to be carried out to root out phenomena that threaten the majority and which have a risk of spreading. However, the existence of the Land of Israel and our ability to maintain and hold it is an important value, and if it is endangered by carrying out the judgment of the Condemned City, then the considerations of what is best for the whole nation prevail, and turn the inhabitants of the wayward city into the protectors of the rest of the nation – acting as a wall or shield to secure the borders.

                Perhaps this fundamental dispute is also the basis for the different perspectives about the section in the Torah about the Condemned City.  Rabbi Shimon, on the one hand, sees the sentencing and punishment of the city as a viable, possible – even positive situation; parallel to bringing a burnt offering (Korban Olah). The people of Israel may occasionally need to sacrifice their sons, on order to unify the people around a clear spiritual ethos. The idea of the parallel between the burning of the Condemned City and the Burnt Offering derives from a hermeneutical “common word” found in both cases: in this instance, the rare Hebrew word “kalil” (completely) which appears in the context of burning the city completely:  “R. Simeon said: the Holy One, Blessed Be He, declared, if ye execute judgment upon the seduced city, I will ascribe merit to you as though ye had sacrificed to me a whole offering” (Mishna Sanhedrin 10:6; Soncino trans.).

                In contrast, the Tosefta suggests that a Condemned City never existed and never will exist: "The Condemned City did not happen and never will happen, so why was the law written? So that you will study and receive a reward." (Tosefta Sanhedrin 14:1).

In light of our discussion here, the reason is clear: in section about the city in the Torah itself, there is a strong connection between what happens in the city and the conditions and context that enabled these goings-on. The whole section describes a paradox: a city that is complete with all amenities and services, located in the heart of the country, functioning in peace and security without external threats -and despite all of this, there is not one mezuza to be found in the whole town. A situation like this could only exist in a science fiction story.

And if this section of the Torah was only written in order for people to study and receive its reward, it would seem that these days, it would be a mitzvah to study the subject of peripheral towns and their relationship to the central areas of the country – and the nation. Now, more than ever, it is clear that these towns are essential in protecting the borders of the country, and their steadfastness is inspiring. It is just as crucial for the center to support them, to invest in their physical, educational, and spiritual development -- for their sake and for the sake of all.  

 

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The Ran on Ekev

Moses warns the people not to forget God after they enter the land and settle contentedly; he tells them how this could happen: "Lest you eat and become satiated, build good houses and settle…and all you have shall increase. And your heart shall be exalted and you shall forget the Lord your God who took you out of the land of Egypt…"(12-14). The enjoyable life that God gives us may turn us away from Him. Pleasures can make one vain and not wish to acknowledge the source of one's luxury. Yesterday we discussed what such pride in one's accomplishments can lead to; but if a person is successful, how can he or she not feel pride?

After the Torah warns that the individual's heart may become exalted, this leading to the forgetting of God, it says: "And you shall say in your heart, my strength, and the might of my hand, has made for me this wealth." It then continues: "You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is He who gives you strength to beget wealth." (verses 17-18) How does the Torah view the claim, "my strength and the might of my hand, has made for me this wealth"? Most readers understand it negatively. Attributing success to human power is incorrect; everything emanates from God; your strength is not your own, nor is your wealth. By this reading, verse 18 counters verse 17 by contradicting it. The person had become proud and had forgotten God (verse 14), the expression of this pride, in disregarding God, is his attribution of success to himself. Considered thus, these verses require a radical view of human interaction in the world. Providential influence is total, and must be considered the exclusive cause of all that takes place.

While we may naturally nod to such a claim, we must realise what it assumes. We know that our actions are not determined in advance; we have free choice, and are therefore morally responsible for our behaviour. But if human success is not to be attributed to human effort, we must believe that while God does not interfere with our choices, He not only reserves control of their effects, but is in reality their sole cause. One can argue this, but it demands a total review of our understanding of reality. Usually one assumes that free choice means that one is able to act in the world freely, and cause things to happen. If one wishes to accumulate wealth, one can do so; within certain parameters, God has enabled us to direct our destiny. But the reading that we are now considering insists that human beings make no real changes in the world; everything is providential; you only choose to act, but the effect is divine.

The Ran (Rabeinu Nisim, Spain, 1320-1380) in his Derashot (10th derasha), offers an alternative reading of these verses (adopted by Abarbanel). The Torah does not contradict our natural assumption that we are able to make effects in the world. Verse 17 tells us what one may feel upon finding oneself successful: "my strength and the might of my hand, has made for me this wealth." This is not incorrect. We might say that it is a wrong focus, but not an empirical mistake. The Torah does not argue against such an intuitive notion, rather, we are told: "You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is He who gives you strength to beget wealth." The human being is reminded of the source of his success - where his strength comes from. Pride has no place because God is the ultimate source of everything. But one's intuitive sense of being an actor in the world is correct; you did gather wealth, but it was God who gave you the ability to do so, and He helped you all the way. When one understands what is really going on human pride is illogical, not because you do not cause things to happen, but because there is a wider and deeper picture.

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Ekev: Monotheism, Paganism, and Human Pride

Verses 11 to 20 of Devarim chapter 8 deal with the dangers of forgetting God when things are good and the resultant danger of serving false gods. We are warned not to forget the Lord (verse 11), and we are told how this could happen: "Lest you eat and become satisfied, build good houses and settle…and all you have shall increase. And your heart shall be exalted and you shall forget the Lord your God who took you out of the land of Egypt…"(12-14). The enjoyable life that God gives us may turn us away from Him. Pleasures can make one vain and not wish to acknowledge the source of one's luxury.

But why would such a state of mind make one serve false gods? If one leaves the service of the true source of good, due to a conceited heart, exalted by luxury, why would one turn pagan? We would assume atheism a possible danger; but serving many gods instead of the One seems odd. Yet verse 19 explicitly continues the sequence: "It shall be, that if you do forget the Lord your God and you go after other gods, and serve them…I testify against you today that you shall perish." Since this verse is separated from the previous verses with a break in the original Hebrew text, one may claim that it is not a continuation. Verse 17 tells us that we may declare that it was our own strength that generated the success. We are then told in verse 18 that we must remember God, who gave us the strength to be successful. Since the text breaks at this point, one may argue that the subject has changed. However, a simpler reading would connect the two as stages in a terrible moral decline. First one becomes proud and forgets God. If one does not catch oneself, by remembering God who is the source of any strength to be successful, then a new stage of decline becomes possible: one may recede into a pagan mindset. According to this explanation, the break in the text does not separate the issues completely, but makes us aware that this is not a necessary continuation; the person would hopefully catch himself before he falls this far. I think that this explanation seems more plausible given the context of these verses. We must therefore ask ourselves why one who left the service of the one true God out of pride, not wanting to acknowledge the source of his success, would become pagan, and serve many gods.

This issue touches upon a fundamental difference between Monotheism and Paganism. One God does not simply mean that there is only one. It means that all power and meaning in the world emanates from Him. Everything in existence receives its life, strength and creativity from God; "You shall remember the Lord your God, for He is the one who gives you strength to beget wealth" (verse 18). Intoxicating pride in human achievement directly contradicts a truly monotheistic consciousness. However, Pagan thought works differently. In Greek mythology, for example, gods are remarkably human, and even in other cultures we may assume that a multiplicity of gods usually meant that one could weave one's way between them. Ritual to appease the gods was a way of dealing with powers which man wished to escape. When one does not believe in an all-powerful and all-encompassing God, the many gods that people believe in instead become players in the same field. The human being is considered weaker, but to some extent independent.

If one forgets God because of the pride that comes from prosperity, not wanting to attribute one's successes to God, one may indeed degenerate into pagan worship. Vanity and a conceited heart contradict belief in a monotheistic God; they do not contradict service of many powers in the world. The proud human being wants to believe in his absolute autonomy; he does not want to attribute his success to divine goodness, and belief in the one absolute source of everything deflates his pride. He turns to idols, as they present no challenge to his human vanity. Every generation has its own idols, and every human being his or her own pride. True belief in God saves one from the pride and from the idols.

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Moshe's Wisdom

   Parashat Vaetchanan begins with Moshe recalling his impassioned plea to God for permission to cross the Jordan River into Eretz Yisrael along with rest of the nation, and God’s refusal to grant his request.  The Sifrei presents the following explanation for God’s refusal:

 

You [Moshe] are serving as an example for the judges, who will say, “If Moshe, a great wise man – He [God] did not show him favor, and because he said, ‘Listen, please, O rebellious ones’ the decree was issued that he would not enter the land – then all the more so, those who delay judgment or distort judgment!”

 

According to the Sifrei, God’s stern, unyielding response to Moshe served as an important example to other leaders.  If God did not pardon Moshe for his ever so slight failure in leadership, then certainly, the judges will be held strictly accountable for abusing their power or failing to properly execute their responsibilities.

 

            Why does the Sifrei here emphasize specifically Moshe’s “wisdom,” describing him as “a great wise man” (“chakham gadol”)?  Why didn’t it stress his personal piety, or his unparalleled prophetic level?  In what way does his unique “wisdom” make him an instructive example of God’s exactitude in dealing with failures of leadership?

 

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests that one of the defining characteristics of a “chakham” is the ability to correct and rectify mistakes.  Wise people are not necessarily perfect, but they are adept in solving problems which they unwittingly caused, and controlling the damage resulting from their mistakes.  It is therefore specifically Moshe’s “chokhma” that makes God’s strict decree so instructive.  Despite Moshe’s unique ability to rectify mistakes, God did not give him a pass after the incident of Mei Meriva.  Sometimes, leadership failures do not lend themselves to complete rectification, and God will therefore exact strict retribution.  The nation’s judges thus learned from God’s response that not all mistakes can be corrected.  They must exercise extreme care to do things right the first time, and not rely on their ability to fix the situation later.

 

            We might also suggest that due to the scarcity of wisdom, wise people are a precious and crucial commodity.  Accomplished scholars – even Torah scholars – might be tempted to view themselves as indispensable and irreplaceable.  God’s strict decree against Moshe, while baffling in many respects, sets an important precedent that does not allow any subsequent chakhamim to deem themselves indispensable.  Regardless of how vital a service any figure might provide for the people, nobody is beyond replacement.  Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch commented that this message underlies the brief narrative in Parashat Shemot (4:24-26) of Moshe’s near death as he made his way to Egypt, due to his neglecting his son’s circumcision.  The Torah seeks to impress upon us that the nation’s redemption does not depend on any single individual; if Moshe was lax in his personal performance of mitzvot, then God could bring the salvation through a different figure.  By the same token, the judges saw how Moshe, the greatest chakham of all, was denied entry into Eretz Yisrael, and learned that no one is too important to be held accountable.  To the contrary, the heavy burden of responsibility the weighs upon the leaders’ shoulders results in an especially strict level of accountability, and an infinitesimal margin of error.

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Meshekh Chokhma on Moshe not Entering the Land

    Toward the beginning of Parashat Vaetchanan, Moshe recalls God’s decree that he would perish in the wilderness and not join Benei Yisrael into Canaan: “And the Lord was angry with me because of you, and He swore that I would not cross the Jordan and come into the good land which the Lord your God is giving you” (4:21).  Many commentators struggled to explain Moshe’s intent in blaming Benei Yisrael for this decree (“because of you”), and to explain the connection between this verse and the previous verses, in which Moshe warns the people about the lure of idolatry.

 

            The Meshekh Chokhma suggests a particularly insightful explanation.  The generation that left Egypt occasionally made the mistake of viewing Moshe as their equal, a perspective which in some instances led them to challenge his authority, as when Korach and his cohorts brazenly declared, “For the entire congregation – they are all sacred…so why do you raise yourselves over the community of the Lord?” (Bamidbar 16:3).  The Midrashim also describe how the people looked suspiciously at Moshe and accused him of all kinds of scandalous schemes.  They failed to recognize his unique stature that towered over theirs.

 

With regard to the younger generation, by contrast, a much different concern arose.  These people were likely to look at Moshe as a superhuman, God-like figure, seeing how he regularly overturned the natural order.  The Meshekh Chokhma asserted that among the reasons why Moshe could not lead Benei Yisrael in their conquest and settlement of Canaanwas the concern that he would be deified.  God would have allowed Moshe to continue leading the older generation, despite the disrespect that they showed him on occasion.  What He could not allow, however, was for Moshe to lead a generation that would have likely regarded him as a supreme being, as this would have undermined the role Benei Yisrael is to serve as God’s representatives to mankind.

 

            Moshe therefore admonished the people that he was denied entry into Eretz Yisrael biglalkhem,” because of them, on their account.  Once God decreed after the sin of the spies that the older generation would perish in the wilderness, it became necessary for Him to disallow Moshe’s entry into the land, as well, since he could not lead the younger generation.

 

            The Meshekh Chokhma adds that this understanding of the verse may help explain its relevance to the previous verses, which speak of the gravity of idol worship.  The decree against Moshe relates to this theme in that it resulted from God’s concern that an idolatrous cult would be formed around Moshe.  In the context of the warnings against idolatry, Moshe noted that it was the concern of his deification by the younger generation that necessitated his death in the wilderness and the denial of his request to enter Eretz Yisrael.

 Courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion - www.etzion.org.il

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שיר ה' - רק בציון

"אֵיךְ נָשִׁיר אֶת שִׁיר ה' עַל אַדְמַת נֵכָר" (תהילים קל"ז, ד)

 

"איך", משיבים לאמר, "איך נשיר את שיר ה' על אדמת נכר", הגם שנוכל לשיר לכם שירי ההצלחה הגשמיית שהיינו שרים בציון, כי גם פה אנו מוצלחים בהצלחות, אבל שיר ה', שיר הקודש שהיינו שרים בציון, על שכינת ה' אשר בה, ועל הופעת רוח הקודש והנבואה וכבוד ה' והתורה והעבודה והנסים, שיר הזה האלהי, איך נשיר אותו על אדמת נכר הבלתי מוכן לסגולות אלה הרוחניות?

 

 

 

מלבי"ם - ר' מאיר לייבוש בן יחיאל מיכל (1809-1879), נולד בפולין ונפטר ברוסיה. רוב שנותיו נדד במזרח אירופה ושימש כרב בערים אחדות. בפירושו לתורה, "התורה והמצווה", מביא את מדרשי ההלכה ודן בהם בהשוואה לפשט הפסוקים תוך דיוקים בדקדוק המקרא.

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