ברכה ליום העצמאות תשס"ט

לבני משפחתנו, חברותינו וחברינו היקרים

אנחנו זוכים לחגוג היום את 61 שנות קיומה של מדינת ישראל.

האם היא מגשימה את כל חלומותינו ומאוויינו? האם "לנער הזה התפללנו"? מהי משמעותה ברצף ההיסטורי של העם היהודי? של האנושות כולה?

דומני שאין באפשרותנו לתת תשובה חיובית או מספקת לכל השאלות האלו, וברור שהדרך ליציאה מן הגלות או להוצאת הגלות מאיתנו עדיין ארוכה. היציאה ממצרים נעשתה בן לילה, אבל לקח לבני ישראל 40 שנה להגיע לארץ המובטחת.

כל זה אינו צריך למנוע מאיתנו לשמוח על מה שבכל זאת קיים: החופש שניתן לנו לקחת אחריות על חיינו. חירות זו הוא ברכה אך גם אתגר. מי יתן שנוכל לעמוד בו בהצלחה.

חג שמח לכולכם

Dear Friends and Family,

Today we are celebrating 61 years of Independence. Is this the State we dreamt about? Are we evaluate its importance in the historical continuum of the Jewish People or of mankind?

I guess we aren't able to answer all these questions positively and the path of liberation may be longer ; even the Exodus lasted 40 years until the Jewish People reached the "Promised Land".

All this doesn't change the fact that we can rejoice what has been achieved already: the freedom to assume responsibility over our lives. This liberty is a blessing, but also a challenge. Let us hope (and pray) to be strong enough to assume that challenge.

Chag Sameach to all,

The Afflicted House

Our Father Who is in Heaven, bless the State of Israel and its inhabitants, protect it with your kindness and spread over it Your sukkah of peace, and send Your light and Your truth to its leaders, ministers, and advisors. Help them, with Your good counsel. And bring peace to the land and eternal joy to its inhabitants.

"The afflicted house never existed and never shall exist.

Why was it written about?

Expound upon it and receive a reward."

The expression derosh vekabel sakhar – "Expound upon it and receive a reward" – occurs several times in various contexts within rabbinic literature. Bavli Sota 44a mentions it while treating Proverbs 24:27. There the Sages set out the correct progression for Torah study: one should first study Scripture, then Mishnah and Gemara and perform good deeds and later he can explicate and receive a reward." This drasha may intend to tell us that one should first build his cultural, spiritual, and social foundation before becoming able to be creative and make his own personal mark.

The Sages also use this expression in reference to items that have no contemporary halakhic application (death penalties, sacrifices) or that they claim "never existed and shall never exist," such as the rebellious son [ben sorer umoreh] and the ir hanidahat – the condemned town.

Nega'ei ha'bayit [the "afflictions" of houses] have caught the interest of Bible commentators ever since the Sages wondered about the phenomenon's strangeness. Rashi chose to interpret the matter midrashically, and understood the nega'ei habayit as constituting a kind of blessing. He wrote:

And I inflict an eruptive affliction - This was an announcement to them that these plagues would come upon them, because the Amorites concealed treasures of gold in the walls of their houses during the whole 40 years the Israelites were in the wilderness, and in consequence of the nega they would pull down the house and discover them [the treasures].

(Based on Silberman translation)

Hizkuni cites the words of the Tosafot which claim that the nega'ei ha'bayit marked the houses in which idols had been worshipped, so that the Israelites would know which buildings had to be destroyed.

Sanhedrin 71a offers the most radical interpretation of nega'ei habayit. This appears in the context of a discussion of those commandments which appear in the Torah, but which lack practical application - commandments meant to serve as objects of purely theoretical interest to be "studied in order to receive a reward [from heaven]." Regarding the nega'ei ha'bayit the Talmud there states:

There never was and never will be an afflicted house. And why is it written? Expound upon [it] and receive a reward.

Indeed, the Gemara does present us with other interpretations and even testimony supporting the existence of afflicted houses, but the author of the discussion grants ample space to those who hold that the ben sorer umoreh [disobedient child], the ir ha'nidahat [city which turned to idolatry], and the afflicted house all "never existed nor will ever exist in the future" and were mentioned in the Torah only in order to afford people the opportunity to "expound upon [them] and receive a reward."

What, then, is there to be expounded upon in this matter? We find two apparently contradictory approaches regarding the possibility of houses in Jerusalem being afflicted:

The Gemara in Yoma 12a says that Jerusalem - and certainly the area of the Temple - cannot suffer afflictions, since they are not included in the category of your possessions, in accordance with the view holding that "Jerusalem was not divided among the tribes." Contrastingly, in Vayikra Rabbah 17:7, we read:

And I shall inflict an eruptive affliction upon a house in the land you possess - This refers to the Temple, for it is said, I am going to desecrate My Sanctuary, your pride and glory (Ezekiel 24:21).

Of course, it is possible to reconcile the two statements by pointing out that the quote from Yoma is halakhic, while that from Vayikra Rabbah is a midrash aggadah meant to express a theological idea. The midrash even continues along the metaphorical thread that it had begun:

The owner of the house shall come (Vayikra 14:35) - That is the Holy One Blessed be He, for it is said, because of My House which lies in ruins (Haggai 1:9)

And tell the priest (Vayikra, loc cit) - That is Jeremiah, for it is said [that he was one] of the priests that are in Anatot (Jeremiah 1:1).

Something like an affliction has appeared upon my house (Vayikra, loc cit) - That is the filth of idolatry. Some say: That is Menashe's idol.

It seems to me, however, that both the midrash and the Talmudic statement may be read in a different way since, in any event, this halakhah has no practical application, and halakhah may also be interpreted on the philosophical level.

In his comments on the verse from Vayikra, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch explains that on the one hand, the afflictions only occur in the Land of Israel, while, on the other hand, they only occur in the land you possess, i.e., in houses belonging to known individuals. Thus, at the ideal level, Jerusalem and the Temple "cannot be made impure with afflictions."

The affliction is, therefore, a social affliction connected with the consequences of the acquisitiveness that can arise from private ownership.

If so, there is an essential contradiction between ownership and holiness. The holy is set apart and cannot be included in any kind of real estate holding or sovereignty. There is also an opinion (Yoma 12a) that Jerusalem was not apportioned to the tribes, and a beraita is cited stating that, "Houses are not rented in Jerusalem, because they do not belong to them." These dicta strengthen the philosophical view that finds ownership and holiness to be mutually incompatible. Therefore, the afflictions can damage the Temple when the attitude towards it is acquisitive - an acquisitive attitude necessarily defiles the holy.

This affliction is remedied by emptying the house, placing it under quarantine, removing of the affected stones (idolatry), dispersing them to an unclean place, and replacing them with other stones.

I do not think there is need to write at length in order to make understood the meaning of these ideas for today. The creation of the State of Israel sets before us many important challenges. We can be able, if we so wish, to build in our hearts and in our society a place for the Temple, where our lives will be sanctified and our society built upon a solid foundation of justice. No material stones are needed, but rather the construction of a society that seeks peace, cares for the stranger, for the orphan and for the widow. It may be that in order to achieve this we will have to substitute afflicted stones with other stones, but in order to preserve the house's future, we must expound upon the laws of nega'ei habayit, and find a way to apply them.

Zion shall be redeemed with justice and those returning to her with righteousness

AND AHARON WAS SILENT

THROUGH THOSE WHO MAY COME NEAR TO ME,

WILL I BE SANCTIFIED . . . AND AHARON WAS SILENT.

There is no really convincing explanation of the death of Nadav and Avihu, Aharon’s sons, “as they brought near before God”. Different commentators, beginning with our Sages, sought to identify their sin - or the lack of sin – in various ways (they entered the holy place while inebriated, they issued rulings in the presence of their teachers, etc.)

The “outside fire” also opens the door to different derashot, as is written “every generation and its explicators”. It may well be that fire which is ‘outside’ to me may be holy for others, and so conversely.

Rashi and other commentators, in line with our Sages (Bavli, Zevahim 116b), explain Moshe’s words to Aharon following the sons’ deaths -- “Through those who may come near to me, will I be sanctified” -- as an attempt to console. Rashi writes:

“This is what God spoke . . .Through those permitted near to me, I will be sanctified” Where did He speak? “So I will appoint-meeting there with the Children of Israel, and it will be hallowed by my Glory” (Shemot 29:43) Read not “Bichevodi” – “by my Glory” – rather “Bimchubadai” – “through them that glorify Me.” Said Moshe to Aharon: “Aharon, my brother, I knew that this dwelling was to be sanctified by those close to God, and I thought that it would be through me or through you. Now I see that they were greater than you and I.”

In other words, the sanctification of the House, the Mishkan, on occasion of its dedication, is through those whom God honors; the death of Aharon’s sons on this occasion attests to their greatness.

Rashbam, Rashi’s grandson, offers a different understanding of “Through those permitted near to me, I will be sanctified.” God’s words are not an explanation of what happened, but are a demand made of Aharon for the future. Writes the Rashbam:

Moshe said to Aharon: Do not mourn and do not cry and do not desist from the service. For this which I tell you ““This is what God spoke . . .Through those permitted near to me, I will be sanctified” – through the high priests who are close to me to serve me I desire to be sanctified, lest my name and my service will violated, for so The Holy One, Blessed Be He, told me, “And the priest greater than his brothers . . . his head he is not to bare, and his garments he is not to tear . . . from the Holy-Shrine he is not to go out, that he not profane the Holy-Shrine of his God. If he will not go out – (he will be) holy. There is no chronological order in the Torah. Therefore, do not leave the service, for you are the high priest, and do not go out and do not profane, but let The Holy One, Blessed Be He, and his service be sanctified by you. “Before all the people, I will be accorded honor” – This is the honor accorded the Holy Presence – he (Aharon) sees his sons die and sets aside his mourning for the sake of serving his creator.

After a description of Aharon’s reaction, the Rashbam continues:

This is the true and simple meaning. But that which the Agadda relates -- that Moshe was comforting Aharon with what God had said “It will be hallowed by my glory,” and I thought that it would be either by me or by you, now you know that they were greater than me and you – all this is not the peshat, the plain meaning, For would The Holy One, Blessed Be He, announce to Moshe “They will make a dwelling for me” and on that very day your greatest people will die?!”

The Rashbam, then, considers the phrase “Through those permitted near to me, I will be sanctified” to be a demand made of Aharon in his most difficult moment, and not as a consolation for his sons’ deaths. Yet more – The Rashbam does not even consider the possibility of attributing to God a request for “sanctification” through the deaths of those close to Him during the dedication of the Mishkan.

Neither exegetical approach – neither Rashi’s nor Rashbam’s – is easy to accept. The story itself is not at all simple. Attributing to The Holy One, Blessed Be He, a desire to be sanctified through the death of those near to him – as per the Talmud in Tractate Berachot which deals with suffering lovingly accepted (“Him who God loves does He chastise”) -- presents us with a difficult problem in the comprehension of God. On the other hand, it would seem that the demand made of Aharon not to grieve over his sons but to continue the holy service as usual, is clearly superhuman.

Difficulties aside, it may be possible to discern in these explanations two models of kedusha – of holiness.

We occasionally refer to persons who were killed or died as “kedoshim” – holy ones. In the memorial prayer (“El Moleh Rachamim”) we use the phrase “in the lofty levels of the holy and the pure ones, who shine like the glow of the firmament”. We refer to those who perished in the Shoah as “kedoshim”. In the memorial prayer on behalf of soldiers of Tzahal, we say: “Soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces who fell in sanctification of the Name, the nation, and the land.” Even if we avoid a deep discussion of these phrases, it is clear to us that there is a post facto determination of holiness (somewhat similar to the Catholic Church’s designating a pope or someone else a “saint”). It is interesting to note that the term “kiddush haShem” – Sanctification of the Name – has taken root in our vocabulary as an accepted expression for the death of persons who give their lives for what they consider to be a holy and important cause. According to this thesis, the name of the Almighty is sanctified whenever a Jew dies or is killed “Al kiddush Hashem”. This is also the source of formulation of the Kaddish – “May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified”.

We note, in this context, an enlightening and radical interpretation by S. Agnon, in his “Following The Coffins of Those Who Died in Eretz Yisrael”:

“ . . . Should even one of Israel be missing, Heaven forbid, the King’s legions are diminished, and the power of His kingdom, as it were, is weakened. For his kingdom is lacking a legion of his legions, and there is a diminution, God forbid, of His greatness. Therefore, we pray and say on behalf of each Jew who dies “May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified” – may the power of His name be magnified, and may there be no weakening before Him. May He be exalted and sanctified in the worlds which He created according to His will, and may we not fear for ourselves, but may He rise from the grandeur of the glory of His holiness “and give reign to His kingship” – that His kingdom reveal itself in perfection without any diminishing, God forbid.

In other words, the “Kaddish” prayer is intended to refill the deficiency brought about by the death of a person from Israel.

The concept of holiness, as expressed in the commentary of Rashbam, does not relate to “the death of Kedoshim”, and does not speak about “Kiddush HaShem” in the sense of martyrdom. It speaks about Man’s ability to sanctify God’s name during his lifetime, through full control over his drives and emotions.

This theory of holiness, which is future-oriented, and which focuses on striving for holiness in all areas of life, is compatible – according to Rashbam – with the plain meaning of Scripture. It also explains the juxtaposition of the parasha dealing with the death of Aharon’s sons, with the parasha dealing with those animals and insects which may not be eaten.

Aharon is forbidden to externalize his sorrow. It is interesting to compare the explanations of Rashbam and of Abarbanel of “And Aharon was silent”.

Rashbam:

“And Aharon was silent” - he was silent about his mourning. He did not cry nor mourn, for thus is it written in Yechezkiel “Oh, mortal, I am about to take away the delight of your eyes from you through pestilence . . . mourn softly: observe no mourning for the dead.” Here, too, he “was silent” – not expressing his desire to mourn and weep.

Abarbanel:

His heart became like silent stone, and he did not raise his voice in crying and painful eulogy over his sons, and he did not accept consolation from Moshe, for he had no strength left, and he was incapable of speech.”

Ramban writes:

At first he cried aloud, and then was silent. Or in keeping with "Give your eyes no respite.”

This point of view teaches us that the striving for holiness is bound up with the imposition of intellectual, moral, and ideological constraints on drives and emotions. Aharon is commanded to continue his holy service despite his feelings and his desire to express his grief. We are commanded to refrain from eating impure beasts, animals, insects, fish, and birds – even though we may hunger for them. [As in the words of our Sages: Do not say I am incapable of eating pig, or I cannot bear to eat blood. . . ]

These days we seem to be facing – as a society – trials no less challenging than that of defying the temptation to eat forbidden foods.

Perhaps the greatest test of our leadership and of all society is that of our ability to impose our intelligence, our values, and the image of God within us, upon the difficult emotions we are experiencing. The striving for holiness demands restraint; mourning has the potential of making us – individuals and collectively – more deserving of our destiny as human beings and as Jews. Together with this, in the words of Agnon, our faith must meet the challenge of the diminution which takes place, as if it were, in the Kingdom of Heaven with each tragic incident. Sanctification of the Name during life is the religious act required in order to rehabilitate the damaged Kingdom of Heaven.

TIMELY THOUGHTS

The days between Pesach and Shavuot, days of “Sefirat HaOmer”, are mentioned in Talmudic tradition as days of calamity. We observe customs of mourning in memory of Rabbi Akiva’s students who died in a plague, punishment for being disrespectful of each other. Later traditions added to the earlier tragedies “holy communities who offered their lives for Kedushat HaShem -- and during this period we recite the “Av Harachamim” prayer even on those Sabbaths when we bless the new month. The destruction of a large part of European Jewry took place during this period in the Shoah.

Biblical tradition, on the other hand, regarded these days as a time of elevation, of joy and hope, marked by the mitzvah of counting the Omer. These are the days between the festival of Pesach, marking our exodus from slavery to freedom, and the time of the giving of the Torah. Sefira represents the yearning for the complementing of the physical freedom with spiritual freedom (“There is no free person other than he who studies the Torah”).

There is, therefore, dialectic tension between the early, original, stratum of this period and the memory of difficult events which we note today.

It seems to me that we encounter this tension as we mark, within the same week, the Memorial Day for the Shoah and Remembrance Day for those who fell in Israel’s wars, and then immediately celebrate Israel’s Independence Day.

This admixture of sadness and joy is one of the distinguishing features of Jewish history and it finds expression in many customs. The eating of an egg at the seder as a sign of mourning, the breaking of a glass by the groom under the wedding canopy along with “I will raise Yerushalayim above my joy” faithfully represent the required perspective. As the Rambam wrote regarding the mitzvah of Sukka “that we always remember the days of adversity during the days of good fortune.”

This principle of complex and balanced vision is one of the unchangeable treasures of Jewish tradition. There can be no way of coping in a sane manner with the highs and lows of our personal, communal, and national life if we surrender totally to current feelings, ignoring the past and disregarding the possibilities for change which the future holds.

These words hold true for every year. It seems to me that in this difficult year their significance is especially relevant.

The terrible Shoah which engulfed the generation of our parents and grandparents was a point of change and crisis in the life of the Jewish people and the lives of all humanity. Even the need for assorted “Holocaust deniers” to deny and blur the facts testify to the tremendous difficulty in coping with this painful and monstrous memory.

Many Jews who were uprooted from their homes, who lost parents, spouses, siblings and children, and who faced brutal loss of the image of God and man, lost their faith in a good and benevolent God, and asked themselves difficult and penetrating questions.

On the public level, we see two contradictory reactions:

On the one hand, there is a tendency on the part of some of our people -- disappointed by human morality and by the nations of the world -- to justify everything done in the name of the Jewish people. The Shoah taught us that we must be strong and that we cannot depend on anyone.

On the other hand, the Shoah developed among many of us a deep sense of empathy for the suffering of all men. When these people say “Never again”, they mean that the Shoah taught us that no man should have the right to hurt another, and that no nation has the right to mistreat another.

It is possible that the difficult and complex intertwining of days of memory for the Shoah and war victims, with Independence Day, obligates us to find the balance between our deep identification with Jewish destiny and the difficult challenge of creating a just and moral society, one which respects every man created in His image, “After that you shall be called City of Righteousness, Faithful City.”

Maybe generally we are reading about the tragedy of Nadav and Avihu, the two sons of Aharon who died during the inauguration of the Tabernacle, just before the Holocaust Memorial Day, since in both cases it's very hard to understand "why" it happened. Our Sages and Commentators tried to "explain" this tragic event in different ways, probably because we find it difficult to live in a chaotic world, but maybe we really cannot explain or understand "why" personal or collective tragedies happen. All we can do - and maybe that's what our Sages did - is trying to search for meaning in our lives.

I believe that the Shoah could teach us what happens when people start dehumanizing the other or the others; somehow dehumanizing means profaning G!d's image - respecting every human being is a way to be in touch with Divinity.

Shabbat Shalom to all,

כי מנגד תראה... ושמה לא תבוא

כי מנגד תראה...ושמה לא תבוא

הבוקר חוויתי חוויה מיוחדת במינה; השתתפתי יחד עם כמה מאות ירושלמים - נשים, גברים וטף – ב'ברכת החמה', שהיא כידוע ברכה שנהוג לברך אותה אחת ל-28 שנים.

החוויה של תפילה בטיילת ארמון הנציב וההכנה לברכה בליווי שירה וכלי נגינה היתה מרגשת.

המראה הנשקף מהטיילת בעת הזריחה בבוקר אביבי ירושלמי יפה במיוחד וכשהבטתי על כיפת הזהב וכיפת הכסף בהר הבית היתה לי תובנה מעניינת.

חשבתי שהחוויה של יהודים העומדים מול ההר דומה לחוויה של משה רבנו, חוויה של "מנגד" שתוארה יפה כל כך על ידי המשוררת רחל.

אך, במקום להרגיש "עצב נבו", חשבתי שבעצם החוויה הרוחנית הנעלה ביותר היא ההרגשה של "מנגד תראה ושמה לא תבוא", היא חוויית משה רבנו, שזכה לדרגת הנבואה הגבוהה ביותר.

חז"ל מתארים את ההבדל בין נבואת משה לנביאים אחרים במילים הבאות:

"כל הנביאים נתבאו באספקלריא שאינה מאירה וחשבו שהם רואים; משה נתנבא באספקלריאה המאירה וידע שאיננו רואה."

אולי הקדושה וההתעלות זקוקות למרחק ולגבול ולדעת שיש דברים ששואפים אליהם, אך לא ניתנים להשגה ואולי זה מחזק את ההרגשה הברורה שיש ניגוד בין בעלות לקדושה.

שלא חיסר בעולמו כלום

לבני משפחתנו, לחברותינו ולחברינו היקרים

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם שֶׁלֹּא חִסַּר בָּעוֹלָמוֹ כְּלוּם וּבָרָא בוֹ בְּרִיוֹת טוֹבוֹת וְאִילָנוֹת טוֹבוֹת לְהַנּוֹת (נ"א לֵיהָנוֹת) בָּהֶם בְּנֵי אָדָם.

זה נוסח הברכה כשרואים פריחה חדשה בחודש ניסן, הוא חודש האביב. דומני שאולי המילים "שלא חיסר בעולמו כלום" עשויות לעורר אותנו לחשוב שיש לנו עולם נפלא, שיש בו הכל שצריך להספיק לכל בני האדם ושכל הסיפור הוא חלוקה נכונה של משאבים בין בני אדם ובין עמים. אם בני אדם ועמים ילמדו לשתף פעולה זה עם זה ולא לדכא, להשפיל ולנצל זה את זה, אז באמת נוכל כולנו ליהנות מתוך חירות אמתית מהבריות הטובות ומהאילנות היפים.
חג שמח לכולכם

Dear Family and Friends,
When we see flowers on the trees , we say:
'Blessed be He who hath not left His world lacking in anything and has created in it goodly creatures and goodly trees for the enjoyment of mankind'.
Maybe the words "hath not left His world lacking in anything" teach us that we have a wonderful world able to provide all needs of mankind and the whole idea is to divide all resources properly between individuals and nations. If people will learn to cooperate without exploiting or humiliating one another, we'll all be able to enjoy nice people and nice trees and flowers with a real sense of freedom
Hag Sameach to all,

For you were strangers in the land of Egypt

For you were strangers in the land of Egypt

The holiday of Pesah, the season of our liberation, ended a week ago, and it reminded us of the foundational experience of our exodus from bondage to freedom. Of course, that is not the Torah’s only commemoration of the Exodus from Egypt. We observe many different commandments which mention this great foundational event of our history. Indeed, the month of Nisan is the first of months – some say that the world itself was created in Nisan. It is also said that, “They were redeemed in Nisan, and their future redemption shall occur in Nisan.” The Exodus from Egypt is commemorated in different contexts, and even towards different ends. In the parasha of Aharei Mot, we are warned not to commit practices such as those of the land of Egypt.

On the other hand, the phrase for you were strangers in the land of Egypt appears four times in the Torah, serving as a moral and psychological argument that must guide our treatment of the strangers among us.

In parashat Mishpatim, we read:

You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

(Shemot 22:20)

You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourself been strangers in the land of Egypt. (Shemot 23:9)

In our own parasha:

When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not wrong him. The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt; I the Lord am your God. (Vayikra 19:33-34)

And in the book of Devarim:

For the Lord your God is God supreme and Lord supreme, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who shows no favor and takes no bribe, but upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the stranger, providing him with food and clothing. You must love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. (Devarim 10:17-19)

Some exegetes explain that the stranger referred to by the Torah is a ger tzedek, a convert to Judaism. However, it is not necessary to accept this interpretation; in fact, it may make more sense to assume that these verses are talking about an alien who lives among us. After all, the second half of the verse, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt, must be understood in this way; we did not convert to the religion of ancient Egypt, rather, we lived as aliens there. In addition, the whole notion of conversion to Judaism as it is known to us was developed later in our history.

We, then, are commanded by the law of the Torah to treat the stranger fairly, not to deceive him, and even to love him. We must do this because it is incumbent upon us to walk in the ways of the Lord, Who does justice for the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. The Torah finds it necessary to take the opportunity to remind us that we were also strangers, and so we know the feelings of the stranger. Various commentators have related to this statement in different ways. The RaMBaN offers us a well-developed theory:

The correct interpretation appears to me to be that He is saying: “Do not wrong a stranger or oppress him, thinking as you might that none can deliver him out of your hand; for you know that you were strangers in the land of Egypt and I saw the oppression wherewith the Egyptians oppressed (Shemot 3:9) you, and I avenged your cause on them, because I behold the tears of such who are oppressed and have no comforter, and on the side of their oppressors there is power (Kohellet 4:1) and I deliver each one from him that is too strong for him (Tehillim 35:10). Likewise you shall not afflict the widow and the fatherless child (Shemot 22: 21), for I will hear their cry, for all these people do not rely on themselves but trust in Me.” And in another verse He added this reason: for you know the soul of a stranger, seeing that you were strangers in the land of Egypt (23:9). That is to say, you know that every stranger feels depressed, and is always sighing and crying, and his eyes are always directed towards God, therefore He will have mercy upon him even as He showed mercy to you, just as it is written, and the children of Israel sighed by reason of the bondage, and they cried, and their cry came up unto God by reason of the bondage (2:23), meaning that He had mercy on them not because of their merits, but only on account of the bondage [and likewise He has mercy on all who are oppressed].

(RaMBaN on Shemot 22:20, Chavel translation)

The RaMBaN emphasizes that God will seek justice for every persecuted person, out of divine sympathy for the oppressed. On the other hand, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch contrasts Egypt’s tribal morality with the Torah’s universal ethic:

As aliens, you had no rights in Egypt; that was the root of the slavery and troubles which afflicted you. Therefore - such is the formulation of the warning – you must take care not to base human rights in your state upon any other foundation than pure humanity, which dwells in every human heart inasmuch as a person is human. Any neglect of human rights opens a door to arbitrariness and human persecution – which were the roots of Egypt’s abominations. (Rabbi S.R. Hirsch on Shemot 22:20)

These unambiguous words did not appear in a “Betselem” manifesto, nor in an advertisement of the Association for Civil Rights; they were written 150 years ago by one of Germany’s great Torah leaders. They awaken wonder and enthusiasm; I would be happy to hear more statements like this from our contemporary rabbis.

Why, then, are such voices so rare today? Why do troubling phenomena of exploitation and discrimination against aliens occur in Israeli society?

There may be many reasons, but it might be that one source of our lack of moral sensitivity is connected – quite paradoxically – with the Jewish People’s own experience of the Holocaust and persecution in many lands. One might understand – but perhaps not justify – a lack of openness in a victim who has difficulty shaking off his own identity of victimhood. We may have left the diaspora, but we have not removed the diaspora from within us, and we have failed to take full responsibility for what happens in our own society.

It should be noted that these commandments, which require fair and equal treatment of strangers, are part of the parasha Kedoshim tehiyu (You shall be holy). Holiness involves self-overcoming and restraint, but it can exist only in a society based upon justice.

Prof. Nehama Leibowitz, z”l, demonstrated that the expression fear of the Lord occurs in connection with the treatment of members of minority groups, of alien peoples, since, quite naturally, the stranger is weak and depends more upon the good graces of the regime than does a citizen who belongs to the majority group.

We should welcome the new awakening of social initiatives - involving rabbinical participation - which battle social injustice and discrimination. However, there is still room to raise up a great outcry against the humiliating treatment of the strangers among us, and for the situation to be redressed. These aspects of holiness and fear of God are always worthy of consideration, all the more so in the days between Yom HaShoah and Yom HaAtzma’ut.

In Every Generation

“IN EVERY GENERATION ONE MUST LOOK AT HIMSELF . . .”

One of the central passages which we will recite on Seder night, taken from Mishna Pesahim (10:5), reads: “In every generation one must regard himself as though he had gone out of Egypt”. Rambam (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Hametz and Matzah 7:8), following this mishna, rules as follows:

“In every generation, one must show himself as though he himself has just exited the slavery of Egypt as is written “And He took us out of there . . .” (Devarim 6:23). Regarding this, the Torah commanded “Remember that you were a slave” (Devarim 5:14; ibid., 15:15; ibid., 16:12; ibid., 24:18; ibid., 24:22), meaning, as if you yourself were a slave, and went out to freedom and were redeemed.”

From the mishna and the subsequent ruling of the Rambam, we learn that the mitzvah of relating the story of the exodus from Egypt has a goal: it is to sense anew every year the experience of the liberation, of the passage from slavery to freedom.

The Talmud (Bavli, Pesahim 116a) recounts an interesting conversation between Rav Nahman and his servant, Darro:

Said Rav Nahman to his servant Darro: “A slave who is freed by his master, who gives him gold and silver, what must he say to him?” He replied: “He must thank and praise his master.” He said to him: “If so, you have released us from the obligation of reciting the “Ma Nishatana” questions.” He began to recite “Avadim Hayinu”.

Imbuing this story with actual and relevant significance presents a serious challenge. True, we are commanded to remember the exodus from Egypt at frequent intervals (in the Shabbat Kiddush, in the Tephillin parashiyot, in the Shema, in the prohibition against cheating the stranger, etc.), but the commandment “to relate” applies only on the evening of the 15^th of Nissan – “when matza and the bitter herbs lie before you” - and it differs in essence from the mitzvah of constantly remembering.

What, then, is the relevant significance of the Exodus narrative?

A reading of the entire above-mentioned Mishna reveals two controversies:

v Regarding the recitation of the Hallel on Seder eve, before the eating of the matzah, marror, and the meal, Beth Shammai says: Until what point does he recite? Until “the mother of the sons rejoices” (i.e., until the end of the first chapter). Bet Hillel disagrees: Until “water from the rock” (i.e., the end of the second chapter). There are different explanations of this controversy, but the Yerushalmi explains that Bet Shammai is stringent regarding remembrance of the exodus from Egypt (appearing in the second chapter – “As the Children of Israel left Egypt”) after midnight, time of the beginning of the redemption; Bet Hillel opines that there is no need to wait for midnight, because in any case the exodus from Egypt began only in the morning.

v Rabbi Tarphon is of the opinion that the recitation of the Hallel ends with “who redeemed us and redeemed our fathers” – sans any concluding benediction. He disagrees with Rabbi Akiva , who adds the passage relating to the future “So, may our God and God of our fathers bring us to other festivals and appointed times which approach us, in peace, rejoicing in the building of your city, and delighting in your service, and that we shall eat of the offerings and of the paschal sacrifice . . .” concluding with the benediction: “Blessed are you, God, who redeemed Israel.”

The Tosafists explain Rabbi Tarphon’s position, saying that it was his custom

to be sparing with requests. Here, too, he makes do with thanks for that which already happened, the redemption which already occurred. Rabbi Akiva was wont to request at length, and therefore he concludes the Hallel with a request relating to the future geula.

Rabbi Tarphon was careful, in certain instances, to rule in conformity with Bet Shammai (Mishna Berachot 1:3), because he had studied in his academy. Therefore one can find a common denominator between the two controversies:

In Bet Shammai’s view, reliving the past experience demands that we wait until that hour when the event occurred. Perhaps we can compare Bet Shammai’s position in this case to his stand on the lighting of the Hanukkah candles (lighting less each night). His religious consciousness is based upon that which has already occurred and which is occurring now (past and present). But according to Rabbi Akiva, it is permissible to praise and laud for a past geula, even if the exact hour in which it occurred has not arrived.

Rabbi Tarphon’s religious consciousness, too, relates to that which has already happened and to the current significance of that even, but his religious consciousness does not include the future. Rabbi Akiva, however, the ‘optimistic” believer, relates to prophecy due to materialize as though it had already materialized (See the story of the fox which emerges from the Holy of Holies, at the conclusion of Tractate Makkot).

Rambam rules that we must tell the story of the exodus and to experience in our lives, here and now, the experience of liberation, but together with this – in his version of Hagaddah – he rules like Rabbi Akiva (and Bet Hillel), integrating the request expressing our anticipation for the future geula into the benediction which concludes the first portion of the Hallel.

Religious awareness based on memory of the past and upon internalization of the moral messages which flow from this memory, can create an attitude of empathy towards all who are enslaved, just as we were in Egypt. But when this awareness does not include an aspect of hope for, and belief in, a better world, it may result in despair and depression.

Maharal, in his commentary on the Hagaddah, observes that religious consciousness based on faith in the future, can infuse hope into situations in which we undergo again the experience of slavery. This was also the greatness of Rabbi Akiva, who, in a period of destruction, merited hearing his despairing friends say “Akiva, you have comforted us.” Occasionally, however – and this happened to Rabbi Akiva – there exists the danger that an overabundance of anticipation of the geula, will result in dechikat ha’ketz (“forcing the end”), in messianic interpretation of historic events. Along with this danger, there exists another danger, no less serious than the first: the belief that our redemption can be attained at the expense of others.

Only proper balance between the two consciousnesses can advance us, some day, to the complete geula. In the words of the Rambam: (Laws of Kings 12:7-8)

7. The prophets and the Sages yearned for the days of the Messiah not that they may rule over all the world, and not that the have dominion over the nations, and not that the nations exalt us, and not in order to eat and drink and be merry: but in order that we be free for the Torah and its wisdom, and they will have neither oppressor nor one to keep from study of Torah, but so that they merit life of the world to come, as we explained in the Laws of Repentance.

8. At that time, there will be neither hunger nor war nor jealousy and competition – there will be an abundance of goodness, and all delicacies will be as commonplace as dust. The world will be engaged only in the knowledge of God. Therefore will there be great wise men, and those who know the deep and hidden knowledge; they will achieve knowledge of their creator according to human ability, as is written “For the world will be full of the knowledge of God, like the waters which cover the seas” (Isaiah 11:9)

Shabbat HaGadol 5769 - Elyahu- symbol of hope

The name of the Shabbat before Pessach (Shabbat Hagadol) has different explanations. One of the explanations derives from the last verse of the Haftarah telling us that the prophet Eliahu will come before the coming of the great and terrible day of the LORD.

In our Tradition, Eliahu is the a-historical precursor and announcer of Redemption and is supposed to establish peace among nations. Maybe he is the symbol of Hope in a better society. Let us keep him alive.

Shabbat Shalom to all,