Parashat HaShuvah - Lech Lecha - "A voice of Strength." Genesis 12:1-17:27, Haftarah, Isaiah 40:27-41:16

Abram, later to be called Abraham, took his wife, family and all his possessions and left his homeland for a land he did not know.  Parasha, Lech Lecha, is just the beginning of his journey, and in so doing we find out quickly that Abram is a man of conviction and a voice of change, but also a voice of strength. 

Abram was born and lived in the Ur of the Chaldees, which is Southern Iraq today, and his father was Terah, a descendant of Noah’s son Shem.  After leaving the Ur of the Chaldees with his father, Abram became the leader of the family after his father died on their travels in Haran (modern day Turkey). Perhaps at that point Abram considered going back to the only place he knew, until he heard God’s voice that said, “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation, And I will bless you; I will make your name great, And you shall be a blessing.” I do not think Abram processed this idea of a blessing as just receiving a reward based on his merit, but he came to realize this was about a sense of divine purpose for the betterment of others.

Dr. Henry Slominsky, a former dean emeritus of the New York School of Hebrew Union College‐Jewish Institute of Religion, teaches that the lesson that emerged from Abram has everything to do with God’s failure and success that is based on human action or inaction. This idea is reflected in a Midrash (Sifrei Devarim 346) that says, “I am God, when you are My witnesses, and if you are not My witnesses I am not God."  Abram learned that what his world would become was based on him.  Abram came to realize that his connection to the gods he knew was just about their veneration, but the dignity of God that was a blessing to all people was based on the equality of honor.  God's justice for people became Abram's justice for others.  

While Abram’s attitude about the gods of his homeland is really not revealed in Genesis, we learn in another Midrash (Berayshit Rabbah 38) that when Terah (his father) left his son (Abram) is charge of the family business one day (an idol shop) Abram conveyed to its customers the folly of idols, mere carvings that can be destroyed as fast as they were made.  When Terah returned to the family business, he asked why he saw smashed idols all over the floor. Abram responded by saying that a certain woman came into the shop and offered a meal-offering of flour to the various idols when one idol rose up and said, “I shall eat first, and another one said: I shall eat first. This big idol, who was standing among them, got up and took the club and shattered them.’ He [Teraḥ] said to him: ‘What, are you mocking me?” 

Abram is saying the following: idols don’t speak, in fact they don’t do anything, only people can do for people.  Later in this same parasha we find a story about this very attitude when Abram and his nephew Lot are in conflict over land ownership. In response Abram recognizes the potential problem and elects to seek peace between their families. Abram who could have stood on his family power, according to Robert Alter, was “polite” but firm when he said, “if you go north, I will go south; and if you go south, I will go north.”  In other words when Abram sought peace he suggested what we might call the first “two-state solution,” something that was based on Abram's ability to bless his nephew Lot, one person to another, equity for both.  

But the Abram of peace is also the Abram of conviction.  When rival kings engage in battle Lot is swept up in the fight and taken hostage.  Abram managed to rescue his family member in the cover of night, the Sfrono teaching, “this was also part of the subterfuge, preventing the kings from realizing that they were facing insignificant numbers of opponents.”  In this case Lot’s humanity led Abram as opposed to mutual peace because he realized that in those Kings he did not have partners in peace. Yes, we can make that connection with the minions of Hamas who do not desire to be partners of peace with Israel for a viable two-state solution, but in general like with Abram, we must use of voice in what we do to be a voice of change, a voice of peace, but also a voice of strength.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam Ruditsky

Parashat HaShuvah - Noach - "A Moral Conundrum." Genesis 6:9--11:32. Haftarah, Isaiah 54:1-55:5

Parsahat Noach begins with telling us about Noah: “This is the line of Noah.—Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age; Noah walked with God.”  Noah lived at a time when humanity was evil, analogous to the people of Sodom and Gomorrah who we read about in a few weeks.  In the story God decides to destroy the world because of perpetual evil and tells Noah, the only righteous person left, to build an Ark so when this judgment comes as a storm upon the world, only he and his family alone would survive while all others will perish.  While there is violence in the opening chapters of Genesis, such as the murder of Abel by his brother Cain, here in this parasha we see the first “battle” with mass casualties; the weapon of this war is a deadly flood where God does battle with evil.  But this is also the first time experiencing what we call “collateral damage.”

Are we to think that each and every person who perished in the flood was evil?  Most Jewish texts seem to deal with the reason as opposed to the ethics or morality of needless deaths.  In the Talmud (Sanhedrin 57a) the rabbis concluded that the reason for the flood was that “Wherever “corruption” is mentioned, it must refer to illicit sex and idolatry. Illicit sex, as it is written [remove it from your midst] Lest you corrupt yourselves.”  There are other texts to consider regarding the flood, but in general both here and with other “wars” to follow, they were primarily religious in nature. Yet, in the same way we show compassion for the death of the Egyptians during our Passover seders, in a Midrash (Gen. R. 32:7) God mourns the deaths that will follow because of the flood, both of the wicked and the innocent.  Because of the loss of life the wars of Torah are to be mourned and not just celebrated.

Still this war, whose weapon for the ancients was the flood, was between good and evil. In response to what happened Alexander Heidel (Christian Theologian) wrote, “the moral or ethical motive is almost completely absent,” and in like fashion J. David Bleich (Jewish Law/Ethics Professor at Yeshiva University) teaches, “there exists no discussion in classical rabbinic sources that takes cognizance of the likelihood of causing civilian casualties in the course of hostilities legitimately undertaken as posing a halakhic or moral problem.”

Michael Walzer, a political theorist at Princeton University in New Jersey, writes that Torah does not speak to the sensibilities of modern warfare regarding rules of engagement. Walzer makes two points.  First, there is a big difference between needless killing and collateral damage, something that was called the “double-effect” by Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas provided the early church (12th Century) a doctrine of ethics for war, something Walzer suggested should be incorporated by Israel to address the reality of civilian deaths during times of combat.  Second, a reminder that Israel’s wartime ethic is based upon what is called “tahor ha-neshek,” or purity of arms, which says: “The soldier shall make use of his weaponry and power only for the fulfillment of the mission and solely to the extent required; he will maintain his humanity even in combat. The soldier shall not employ his weaponry and power in order to harm non-combatants or prisoners of war, and shall do all he can to avoid harming their lives, body, honor and property.”   While collateral damage is unavoidable Israel is charged with the duty to protect innocent life.

What we can take away from the Torah, the Bible or classical Jewish texts, is that although the complexities of modern warfare is not mentioned, the highest Jewish value of honoring life is, Jewish or otherwise.  While yes there are “rules from Torah” during war they are limited to the principles they provide more so than policies.  But the moral conundrum says the following: it is never just for people to die but in war death can be justifiable. Do mistakes happen, yes, are they avoidable, not in active war but we must try, is war necessary, yes and depends.  Yet, with all the tangibles and intangibles of war in mind, it is an anathema to me that Israel is held in juxtaposition with Hamas over the issues of the moral value of life. The tragedy of the hospital deaths are heartbreaking and devastating, and if Israel did this they would admit to it.  Instead, both Israel and Hamas are being held to the same standard - who should be believed - as if there is a moral equivalency between Israel who values life and Hamas who exists to kill.  Like God who mourned the deaths of innocents before the flood, Israel’s pursuit to eliminate evil will always mourn the innocent lives that will unfortunately perish. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Adam Ruditsky 

Parashat HaShuvah - Berayshit: "At the Start - When it all Began - The Politics of Creation." Genesis 1:1-6:8, Haftarah 1 Samuel 20:18-42

Rashi reflects on the question by Rabbi Isaac, why does the Torah begin with creation and not in Exodus 12 when Israel received its first command as a nation?   Rashi answers that by saying “All the earth (would know that it) belongs to the Holy One, blessed be He; He created it and gave it to whom He pleased” (Yalkut Shimoni on Torah 187).

In that same spirit, there is a problem we must contend with, and that is in the same way the entire world was created by the hand of a Universal God, so too was the whole of humankind.  In therefore says in Genesis 1:27-28, “And God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, after our likeness … And God created humankind in the divine image, creating it in the image of God — creating them male and female.”  So when it says, בְּצַלְמֵ֖נוּ כִּדְמוּתֵ֑נוּ, in God’s image according to the Divine likeness humanity was fashioned, does that include Hamas and its militants who have done and continue to aspire to commit atrocities and evil against all Jewish people?

According to the Torah’s narrative when creation was completed by God we read in Genesis 2:1-3, “On the seventh day God finished the work that had been undertaken: [God] ceased on the seventh day from doing any of the work. And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy—having ceased on it from all the work of creation that God had done. Such is the story of heaven and earth when they were created. When God made earth and heaven.” The biggest difference between the initial six days of creation and the Shabbat is at the end of each day God is to have said, “It is Good.” But with the Shabbat no such comment is made since God could be silent on a day that was "divinely" sanctified as holy, all were “naked and unafraid,” it was a day of total peace, a day that forecasted a future time where the “Lion and the Lamb” will exist in peace together. 

But peace is in the hands of the very people whom God fashioned to maintain it.  Maimonides in his Mishneh Torah coined the phrase “Harshut B’yado,” (הרשות בידו), which means “The authority is in his hand,” or what we call “Fee-will.”  Yes, the people of Hamas and its militants are created in the Divine Image, yet they have chosen based on their free-will to stand up for evil, hate and despicable acts of savagery. They chose to be evil, but we must not give into our base animal nature to also hate and despise those, like the Palestinians, who are also victims to the evil of Hamas. We must never lose our humanity and our ability to cry over bloodshed; both for those who must die and those who die collaterally. This is a true test of our deepest human values.

The day of Shabbat will come where we too can be silent because we have finished our work, either because our years have been concluded in this world or world peace has been achieved. But until then we must not be silent, we must stand opposed to and be vocal about ways to eliminate acts of evil while not letting our humanity slip below the threshold of what is right and just, even when the choices are hard if not impossible. Every Jew must take ownership of what happened, the politics of creation remind us we must speak goodness in our world by not remaining silent to the evil we see around us, saying the words once more, "Never Again."  Am Yisrael Chai!

Shabbat Shalom and Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan,

Rabbi Adam Ruditsky,

Parashat Haazinu, “Shabbat Shuvah, 'Hello Darkness my Old Friend.'" Deuteronomy 32:1-52, Haftarah, Hosea 14:2-10, Micah 7:18-20 and Joel 2:15-27

“Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence.”  This song, “Sounds of Silence,” of course written and performed by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, begins with the power of silence; even though there is nothing said it can still be heard. We find a similar quandary here in this week's parasha, Haazinu, when it begins in Deuteronomy 32:1. “Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; Let the earth hear the words I utter!” When we look into the sky, what do we hear?  Well, if we are away from the city, or population of any kind,  we hear nothing, but its message is still very loud is it not? Here we can recall the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel who called the experience of hearing the creation, ineffable, or something inexpressible by words. 

My mentioning “Sounds of Silence” is not to interpret this classic song, more so than to touch upon an underlying truth I feel it shares. Its truth is that there is no such thing as silence, it even says in Psalm 65:2, “For You silence is praise,” understood by Rashi to mean silence to God is a form of praise but when made glorious, our audible, it becomes praise with awe.  Let’s consider this idea of silence, or maybe better the idea of hearing silence. There is a story from 1 Kings 19 where Elijah is searching for God, and although Elijah does not find God in the great and mighty wind, an earthquake or in the fire, Elijah discovers God is a soft murmuring sound, understood to be a still soft voice that only Elijah could hear. Again calling on Rashi he writes of Elijah; “But I heard, it is a voice coming out of the silence, still a voice, but a voice itself not heard.”  For Rashi, whatever Elijah heard was not a voice but had a sound, a sound that only spoke with Elijah.  It is pretty much agreed upon that Haazinu is read on Shabbat Shuva because we are supposed to listen, and even more so during this Holy Week of the Yamim Noraim. But it is also worth noting that Haazinu, which means to listen attentively as opposed to Shema, which simply means to listen, are interchangeable but different. Here, Haazinu comes from the root ohzen, which means ear, connecting such hearing to our physical person.  But for the Bible, hearing was just not a physical activity but a multifaceted one.  We read in Proverbs 2:2, “If you make your ear attentive to wisdom And your MIND open to discernment,” but the English does not do it justice. The word for mind,  libcha, can be translated to mean your inner part, midst (of things) heart (of a person), soul, heart (of person), mind, knowledge, thinking, reflection, memory, inclination, resolution, determination (of will), conscience heart, (moral character, the seat of emotions and passions or even a seat of courage. So the above could have just as easily read, “If you make your ear attentive to wisdom And your HEART/INNER BEING open to discernment.”  Sure it matters, it means we listen with more than just our physical ears but with our entire being; is that not what Elijah did? On Rosh Hashanah we stood before God on a day of judgment.  We stood as the ark was open and said the words “Avinu Malkaynu, our father and our King,” but for some the image of standing before their sense of God, a sacred moment before the Holy, the God of our mother and fathers, was more meaningful. Either way, the words on the page of the machzorim functioned like a mirror, reflecting its word calling us to account, not so much as God judging us but giving us the tools to judge ourselves, as every “humanhand leaves its mark, an imprint like no other,” leaving us each to silently stand and contemplate our own existence. On Yom Kippur we will respond to our self assessment, our judgment, responding to what we have gathered. On Yom Kippur, it is about t’shuvah, repentance.  We have judged ourselves to only see once again that we are still not perfect and must repent. But, at the end of the day the one whom we repent to is ourselves, because no matter how much God forgives us or someone forgives us for the wrong we committed against them, if we can not forgive ourselves then what is the difference? On Shabbat Shuvah we recall that our t'shuvah more often than not is based on the loudness of a voice of silence; “Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; Let the earth hear the words I utter,” the sounds of silence that are deafening.  We hear of our inner person, the part of that we refer to as B'tzelem Elohim, hearing the holy spark within that leads us in silence to repent and be renewed for the next year to come, being sealed in the Book of Life. Now that I know better, “Hello darkness, my old friend.” Shabbat Shalom, and G’mar Chatimah Tovah,

Rabbi Adam  

 

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Parashat Nitzvaim-Vayeilech, “The Prophet Isaiah: Know who Before You Stand, and Why," Deuteronomy 29:9 - 31:30, Haftarah, Isaiah 61:10-63:9

This Shabbat is the final Shabbat before the Holy Days, the final parasha before Rosh Hashanah, Parashat Nitzavim-Vayeilech.  Since Tisha B’Av we have been on an ascent toward the Holy Days, a journey led by the voice of the Prophet Isaiah in the Haftarot of Consolation. Isaiah called the nation to do T’shuvah (repentance) particularly from idolatry and mistreating others, reassured them that God had not abandoned them and cast them off forever, raised the issue of social concerns in the community that was to be the concern of each and every person, encouraging a spirit of gratitude toward self and others as they reflected on their future.  It is important to recall that the Prophet spoke to his day based on their worldview and understanding of God.

The wisdom of our Rabbis took Isaiah’s words and applied them to all the Jewish generations that would follow right up until our own day.  The Rabbis taught that as we come to the New Year we are also to reflect on our own sense of awareness, recognition, reunion, rebirth, or as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel called it, "A Time of Renewal," a time where we are to ponder on our own connections to self, others and God.  So like with the Prophet, the Rabbis sought to remind the following generations that the Holy Days first and foremost were spiritual, asking us also to wrestle with our sense of the Divine. But as Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman puts it, this conversation that began in Torah “does not speak ‘to’ us so much as it speaks ‘with’ us.” In other words, the Holy Day season that is meant to touch the holistic nature of our existence does not only speak to us, but we speak with it.  

Yet before Rabbi Hoffman, these were the words of Moses.  Therefore regarding the covenant God made with Israel at Mt. Sinai, Moses teaches in Deuteronomy 29:13-14: "I make this covenant, with its sanctions, not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before our God and with those who are not with us here this day."  The same Torah that was received at Sinai would be the foundation of Torah for every generation to follow.  At that moment in Deuteronomy 29:9 Moses addressed each person who was there saying, “You all who all are standing here this day” are doing so as you wait to enter the land of promise, yet it should be pointed out that the word for "standing" was exclusive to that moment and/or occasion.  

In this case, the Hebrew word used for those who were “standing” in 29:9 was nitzavim, whereas the Hebrew word for those who were "standing" there to listen to Moses's teaching in 29:14 is omayd (a singular word because the people stood as singular people). While they appear the same in English in Hebrew their difference is subtle, but meaningful.  “Standing” from nitzavim is a noun, whereas omayd, from la’amod, is a verb; each has a different function in speech. As a noun, standing (nitzavim) is an “it” that represents their state of being.  Conversely, as a verb, standing (omayd) is their position, standing still or vertical. Thus as a nation they stood (who they were/noun) as a “Kingdom of Priests and Holy Nation,” yet at Mt Sinai they stood (what they did/verb) as they assembled to watch Moses ascend the mountain.

In the end, for those who were nitzavim, it was because of who they were, and for Moses those who were "standing" there about to enter Canaan were having their own Sinai experience, their own encounter with the God of their ancestors. Regarding the idea of encounter the Prophet Isaiah wrote, “I greatly rejoice in GOD, My whole being exults in my God— Who has clothed me with garments of triumph, Wrapped me in a robe of victory, Like a bridegroom adorned with a turban, Like a bride bedecked with her finery,” words that say the following: each and every person stood (think noun), and will stand (also think noun), stood (think verb) before God with the same value as the person next to them just as Moses taught many years earlier. Today is no different, thus like those before us, as we also stand on Rosh Hashanah having our own Sinai experience exclusive to that day, the Holy Days remind us that we stand before God because of who were are and what we do.  

In closing Rabbi Paul Cohen (Reform) taught that one who is standing (nitzavim) before God during the High Holy Days must do so with humility, as this form of standing is not an action but a state of being.  As we stand before God during the Chagim, or Holy Days, Rabbi Cohen teaches that this is “a moment of deep honesty, reflection and repentance,” which is needed in order to be open “to self-reflection [that can only happen when] recognizing that moment [in order] to be present for it.”  As such, as Moses concludes his teaching he tells the people in Vayeilech that he will not be with them in their new future, calling on the Jews and mixed multitude of his day to make the right choices, Moses teaching in Deuteronomy 30:19, “I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life—if you and your offspring would live.”

As the Holy Days approach, even more so now with the beginning of Selichot  prayers after this Shabbat, on Rosh Hashanah we all are being asked to make the right choice regarding why we will be "standing" there on that day.  Will it be our state of being or simply what we are doing?  Whatever you and I decide it is because we have the freewill to do so. On that day we are also being asked, "know whom before you stand," yet we should further ask why and what for?  May our Holy Day experience be one where we rise and stand as our better selves.  

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam

 

Parashat Ki Tavo, “The Prophet Isaiah: The Light of our Fruits," Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8, Haftarah, Isaiah 60:1-22

This week is the third Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah, our journey of preparation continues during this month of Elul. This week's parasha, Ki Tavo, begins "And when you enter the land...," meaning yesterday needs to be put into perspective. It was Leonard Cohen, the Jewish song writer, who said about Rosh Hashanah, "how can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me." Now while still a few weeks away, Cohen's words also work with Ki Tavo as well. Moses taught the Jews that day that "when you enter the land" life is new, your surroundings are new and your possibilities will be new, but don't let the past steal your new present.

Every morning in Jewish prayer we say, “How good is our portion, how pleasant our lot, how beautiful our heritage,” asking us to consider the middah of Hakarat Hatov, or recognition of the good, hence gratitude.  There is a story in a Midrash (Exodus Rabbah 24) about Reuven who experienced the pains of Egypt but also the delights of deliverance, yet he had no gratitude.  Here, Reuven speaks about Egypt where they had dry clay for mortar to make bricks and now have to walk through the clay on the seabed in order to escape from Pharaoh and his armies who sought their lives; but we know how that ended.  In response God says to him “all of these miracles you now equate with evil.”  This Midrash goes on to call him “Foolish” because for Reuven the power of Egypt took away his ability to show gratitude for his deliverance.

The Prophet Isaiah in this week's Haftarah (Is. 60:1-22) begins "Arise and shine, for your light has come, for the glory of God shines upon you." The goodness of God is upon you the prophet says, yes you will contend with exile and all the struggles of life, but like our Midrash above, don't be foolish like Reuven and lose your gratitude for all of the good received, no matter how little or no matter how much!  But Isaiah does not paint an unrealistic picture either, also writing. “Though darkness may cover the earth, thick darkness the people, upon you God will shine.”  Just look at our world, we see antisemitism, social injustice, war and famine, hate, violence and needless killings. This ugly side of life is perhaps why upon entering the land Israel's first deed was to build an altar and “inscribe upon it all the words of this teaching.” In Ki Tavo one of those first teachings is about tithing (Deuteronomy. 26:12-15), an act of showing Hakarat Hatov, or gratitude. They did this with the practice of Bikkurim, giving of the first fruits of their harvest in order to help make life around them better for others. No matter what happened when they entered this new land the light to help others and the betterment of themselves was to be present, gratitude was always primary, the past wasn't to take that away. 

But is it simply the fruit that comes from the ground?  We further learn in Ki Tavo that a women's child from her body is also called  fruit, thus “Blessed shall be the fruit of your body (belly), the produce of your ground.”  I actually think here we can refer to a Christian tradition that can find its partner in Mussar. As such in the Christian bible we read about what is called the “fruit of the spirit, ” those being “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Just as an aside, but worth mentioning, it is not “fruits of the spirit” but “fruit of the spirit,” suggesting that all these characteristics are of equal value.  In the teaching of Mussar we refer to our middot, our soul characteristics, in the same way as they produce attributes of love, goodness, humility and compassion, although from our middot can also come hate, evil, pride and hardheartedness towards both self and others. The fact is that fruit can spoil, both the fruit from the ground but also the fruit from our middot.

Although too big of a subject here, with an understanding of good and bad fruit, let me say something about the idea of blessings and curses. In chapter 28 we read about several curses the people would experience if they were unfaithful to God. Moses teaches after they cross the Jordan and enter this new land before them, that "im lo tishmah," if they do not listen to God all the curses to follow will fall upon the people. That is not an easy pill to swallow, and more than that it suggests that people are no more than puppets on strings and the blessings of God are conditional.  Still, while the ancients my have saw God in that way, it does not take away from its meaning if you don't.  Within the section on the curses, we read in 28:22-24 “the Lord will strike you with consumption, fever, and inflammation, with scorching heat and drought, with blight and mildew; they shall hound you until you perish. The skies above your head shall be copper and the earth under you iron. The Lord will make the rain of your land dust, and sand shall drop on you from the sky, until you are wiped out.” Today we might say that is the result of Global Warming.

If Global warming is a by-product of industrial emissions, burning of fossil fuels or cutting down our forests, not to mention that there are even studies that connect gun control problems with global warming, do we blame this curse on God or ourselves? I am not standing on a soapbox as an environmentalist advocate, others can do that, but I want to make a point about cause and effect. The Rabbis of the Talmud (San. 66a) came to view the idea of blessings and curses as something we do to each other, the Chofetz Chaim (The Laws and Prohibitions of Lashon Hara) teaching that bad speech against another is a form of cursing. I want to suggest that perhaps the curses we experience in life have much more to do with the spoiled fruit of our middot towards each other and our world more so than what God does.  This also might be a way to read the Prophet Isaiah as well.  So maybe while our spoiled fruit can be the cause of a curse, the goodness of our middot can be the fruit of blessings, creating a light that will "Arise and shine" upon others. This is what Elul asks of us as we prepare for the New year ahead.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Adam 

Parashat Ki Teitzei, “The Prophet Isaiah: The Individual Consciousness Endures to the End,” Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19, Haftarah, Isaiah 54:1-10

This week we are in Parashat Ki Teitzei, which is the third Shabbat before our ascent to Rosh Hashanah day. In this parasha we also find the most amount of mitzvot, 72 of the 613 commandments, all having to do with how others should be treated in life, a common teaching that the Jews receive as they are about to begin a new life in a new land.  In the last parasha the theme was about social consciousness, this week it is about individual consciousness. Going into Rosh Hashanah we are asked to reflect on both. 

Examples of such instructions are the proper treatment of prisoners of war, treatment of spouses and children, compassion for both people and animals, interpersonal and family relationships, protection of a neighbor’s property and wellbeing, feeding the less fortunate and the stranger, fair business practices and justice, personal obligation and more; all these must work in concert for the community to endure and thrive.  Regarding the idea to endure we read in Pirkei Avot 1:18, “On three things does the world stand/endure,” but why stand or endure?  In some versions of Avot it uses the word omayd (stand) as opposed to kayaym (endure), and baring the reasons why, the use of one word over the other may make a difference how one reads Ki Teitzei. Still they are similar as well. Omayd just doesn't mean to merely “stand,” but it can mean to “stand up to something,” which can be understood as to “endure.” Yet kayaym, which comes from lakum, is a word that can mean to rise up, exist or be able to subsist. Still, another word derived from lakum, is t’koumah, which means rebirth, renewal or even uprising. Stashing up to something and standing up for something are slightly different. 

So in this case to stand for something is what it means to “endure” (kayaym), yet what does that have to do with Ki Teitzei?  The nature of such endurance is based on values (Torah and Din) integrity (ovodah and emet) and redemptive traits with others (gemilut chasadim and shalom), inner convictions of being and personal ethics of living that include the support of others as well. Yet enduring through life takes effort, follow through and not easy to do; not news by any means. Over the last few weeks our Parshiyot have focused on community obligations and consciousness, and this week it is about personal consciousness, not that it wasn't there before mind you. In community it is easier to reason, “someone else will do it,” but not so when an individual assumes ownership that is exclusive within the larger community, even if not isolated from it. Here, with personal obligation in mind, we want to take a look at a particular verse from Deuteronomy 22:8 that says, “When you build a new house, then you will make a parapet for your roof  so that you do not bring blood upon your house if a person falls from there.”

At first the interpretation seems simple, we are our brothers keeper so to speak (cf. Genesis 4:8-9).  In fact the Sfrono teaches that “if it were to happen that someone falls off that roof you could not have been the indirect cause, seeing you had put up a protective railing. Had you not done so; your family might bear part of the guilt for such a mishap.” Here it is not so much about protecting others but personal liability and the obligation attached to it. In Talmud (Shabbat 32a) it says that the one who falls from the roof met their destined fate whereas the homeowner finds merit because they built a ma’ahkeh, the parapet on the roof, to protect a life from harm. Yet this is just not about a roof!

Rabbeinu Bahya, a well know 14th century Rabbi, reminding us that the rabbinic interpretation of this verse is further applied also to a vicious dog or a shaky later, a version of a stairway, writes, “however, you (the homeowner) have the duty so that you will not be perceived to be the cause of his fall.”  But this was not just a mere human expectation to value life but the very foundation of what Judaism calls Kiddush Hashem(“sanctification of G‑d’s name”); doing right by becoming the living embodiment of what is good and holy. Caring for another’s welling being  and welfare is an act of Kiddush HaShem. Conversely, when we act in an irresponsible and/or hypocritical way that causes another harm it can be called chillul HaShem (“desecration of G‑d’s name”). In this case we must not turn our hearts and heads away from the plight of others, regardless of their fate, which is not for us to decide. This can be called chillul Hashem because we elected to not do our part to protect another. This is not meant to be a statement that condemns but from the perspective of Torah our actions have consequences for both the good and the bad. We see this is the Sefer HaChinuch with the 547 Commandment that is about, “the Prohibition against a Hazard.”  This obligation, which applies to all things at all times for both men and women, teaches that we “may not leave stumbling blocks and hazards in our lands and in our homes so that people should not die or be harmed from them.” 

In this Haftarah of consolation for this Shabbat Isaiah tells those who are entering captivity that although they will feel like a barren woman who has been forsaken because they cannot bear children, in the end their return from exile will be like having the children they thought they never may have. It also goes on to teach that God has not recused responsibility for the welfare for the people’s plight and freedom.  The story of the homeowner is a reminder that we are not to recuse ourselves from the needs of others.  In our country right now there are many needs, albeit from a tragedy like what happened in Maui to the on going need of the homeless, not to mention everything in between from the local food bank to the soup kitchen at the local shelter, reminding us there are always needs we must help with.  But, it can be a burden, it can;  regularly being asked for financial assistance every way we turn. So is there ever a time when our individual consciousness can take the day off?  Ending with an often spoken quite from Pirkei Avot from 2:16 we read “You are not required to finish your work, yet neither are you permitted to desist from it.”  We are always asked to build a parapet, how and when is for each of us to figure out.  

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam