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S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT DEVARIM
By Rav David Silverberg
Motzaei Shabbat
Much of the first half of Sefer Devarim contains Moshe’s words of
“tokhecha,” chastising
Benei Yisrael for the mistakes they committed during
the sojourn in the wilderness, and reminding them that their survival in
Eretz Yisrael depends upon their ongoing loyalty to God and His laws.
The Midrash (Devarim Rabba 1), among its opening comments to this
sefer, makes an intriguing observation about Moshe’s
tokhecha to the people, and the
praise for them expressed by Bilam:
"The criticisms were worthy to have been said by Bilam, and the blessings from
Moshe. However, if Bilam had
criticized them,
Bilam, who is characterized by the
quality of “ayin
ha-ra” (literally, “bad eye”) – seeing the negative aspects of other people – and who
especially despised
Am Yisrael, seems to have been the preferable candidate for preaching to and criticizing
Benei Yisrael. But if he had done so, the words
of reproof would have been ignored.
Coming from their enemy, the people would have paid no heed to his criticism. Conversely, he was the perfect –
though counterintuitive – choice for the person to heap praise upon
Benei Yisrael, as praise spoken by an archenemy is
far more significant than that spoken by a true friend.
Chazal here give us clear instructions concerning eligibility for issuing criticism –
namely, it must come from a friend, not a foe.
Criticism spoken by somebody who is known to have a negative
predisposition will be ignored and dismissed.
It will have no constructive effect, and will instead only deepen the
rift between the two parties. If
there is tension between two people or two groups, their only words about each
other should be words of praise.
Words of criticism will not yield any positive impact.
Criticism
is beneficial only when it is spoken by a trusted friend, not when it is hurled
by a contemptuous rival. In the
context of the different ideological groups and factions among the Jewish
people, this is especially important to keep in mind. The preexisting tensions between the
different factions make the criticisms of each against the other futile at best,
and harmful and divisive, at worst.
Just as Bilam’s rebuke of
Am Yisrael would have been ignored, any criticism
spoken in an environment of mistrust and resentment is unlikely to inspire
positive change. Conversely, kind
words of praise for that which we admire about members of different groups can
prove meaningful and significant – even more so than words of praise spoken
about those with whom we already closely identify.
Tokhecha has its place, but only if it is done by the right people in the right context
and in the right way. When Moshe
spoke critically, Benei Yisrael were prepared to listen, but if it had
been Bilam, they would not have paid any heed.
Before criticizing others, we must ensure that the words have a
reasonable chance of achieving the desired result, and will not serve merely to
deepen rifts and exacerbate tensions.
Sunday
In Parashat
Devarim, Moshe recalls the request he made to Sichon, king of the Emorite
kingdom east of the
The Gemara in Masekhet Avoda Zara (37b) cites Moshe’s request as a
possible source for the halakha known as bishul akum, which
forbids partaking of food prepared by non-Jews.
Even if the food is otherwise perfectly kosher, it may not be eaten if
the preparation was done by a non-Jew.
The Gemara initially regards this halakha as a Biblical prohibition, inferred from
Moshe’s request to Sichon, in which he says, “You shall sell me food for
money…and you shall give me water for money…”
The implied comparison between food and water, the Gemara suggests, might
indicate that the only food Moshe planned to purchase from the Emorites was food
that could be eaten raw – just like water can be eaten without boiling. This verse would then serve as a
Biblical source for this prohibition against eating food that was cooked by a
non-Jew. However, the Gemara
ultimately rejects this theory, explaining that the law of
bishul akum was enacted by the Sages. The Gemara comments that Rabbi
Yochanan, who had cited this verse from Parashat Devarim as the source of
bishul akum, intended this inference as an asmakhta – a subtle allusion in the
text to a law enacted by Chazal, and not that
bishul akum constitutes a Biblical prohibition.
It is worth
noting the context of the Gemara’s discussion about the origin of
bishul akum. Earlier (35b), the Mishna lists
numerous items of non-Jews that are forbidden for consumption – such as their
milk, wine, and different kinds of fish.
The Gemara goes through this list, item by item, discussing each
prohibition and its precise parameters.
Interestingly enough, bishul akum is the only prohibition on this list which the Gemara initially
considers classifying as a Biblical law.
The Gemara never entertained the possibility that
chalav akum – milk produced by a gentile without
Jewish supervision – is forbidden by force of Torah law, for example. It is only regarding bishul akum
that the Gemara raises the possibility of classifying it as a Biblical
prohibition.
Rabbenu Tam, cited by Tosefot, explained that the prohibition of
bishul akum was enacted earlier than the other prohibitions listed in the
Mishna. According to Rabbenu Tam,
this prohibition was enacted to help avoid intermarriage, as barring Jews from
partaking of food cooked by non-Jews would limit social interaction. Cooked food is more likely to lead to
close social friendships than the other items listed in the Mishna, and thus the
original, ancient enactment included only
bishul akum, and it was only later,
when the Sages found it necessary to impose stricter limitations, that they
issued the other enactments. On this
basis, Rabbenu Tam answered another question, as well, namely, why the Mishna
lists bishul akum separately from pat akum – bread baked by non-Jews. Seemingly, cooked food and baked
bread are two variations of the same prohibition.
Why, then, are they listed as separate prohibitions? The reason, Rabbenu Tam explained, is
historical. The two prohibitions
were enacted on separate occasions – first bishul akum, and later pat akum – and they are therefore treated as
different halakhot.
A slightly
different version of this theory is offered by Rabbenu Yona (cited by the Ritva
in his commentary to Masekhet Avoda Zara).
He claimed that the Sages who enacted the initial prohibition of
bishul akum would have extended it to bread, as well, but chose not to do so because of the
importance and central role of bread in people’s diets at the time. It was only later, when the Sages
felt that stricter guidelines were necessary, that they prohibited bread baked
by non-Jews. In any event, according
to both Rabbenu Tam and Rabbenu Yona, bishul akum
was a more ancient prohibition, and pat akum was instituted later.
The Ramban
(also cited by the Ritva) proposed the precise opposite theory. He claimed that pat akum was enacted first, because there was greater concern for close socialization with
shared bread – which was the most common staple – than with other foods. Later, the Ramban claimed, the Sages
felt it necessary to enact more stringent safeguards, and therefore forbade
bishul akum, as well.
As for the question of why the Gemara entertained the possibility that
bishul akum constitutes a Torah prohibition, the Ramban suggested
that this theory was proposed because eating bishul akum is not likely to
lead to close socialization. The Gemara
found it surprising that the Sages would go so far in imposing safeguards as to
forbid all food cooked by gentiles, rather than limiting their prohibition to
bread, which was the basic food staple.
Therefore, figuring that the law of
bishul akum could not have been
enacted as a safeguard, the Gemara initially assumed that this
prohibition predates rabbinic legislation, and originates from the Torah itself.
Monday
The Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni) draws a connection between the first
verse of Sefer Devarim and the final verse of Sefer Bamidbar. At the end of Sefer Bamidbar, the
Torah concludes its discussion of several halakhot relevant to
inheritance by stating, “These are the commandments and statutes that the Lord
commanded the Israelites through Moshe at the Plains of Moav…” Sefer Devarim similarly begins with
these phrase “These are…” – “These are the words that Moshe spoke to all
These two adjacent verses – “These are the commandments…that the Lord commanded”
and “These are the words that Moshe spoke to all Israel” – indicate that God
values the latter as much as the former; he affords as much importance to the
constructive criticism delivered by Moshe as to the mitzvot that He
commanded.
Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his
Yalkut Yehuda, explains this comment of the
Yalkut Shimoni: “Since there are those
who refrain from listening to words of exhortation and rebuke because they do
not wish to take time away from Torah study, they said here that words of
reproof are as beloved to God as words of Torah.”
The Midrash here addresses the scholar who feels that his intensive
engagement in Torah learning absolves him from the arduous, lifelong
responsibility of self-improvement, of refining his character and correcting his
flaws. And the Midrash reminds him
that “Moshe’s words rebuking
The Netziv, in his famous introduction to Sefer Bereishit, describes how
the people at the time of the Second Temple’s destruction were committed to
Torah learning, but failed to develop their characters:
They were righteous and pious and intensively engrossed in Torah. But they were not “upright” in their
conduct. And thus, as a result of
the baseless hatred in their hearts toward each other, they suspected those whom
they saw did not follow their view in the fear of God as being Sadducees and
heretics. This led them to murder,
in extreme cases, and to all evils in the world, until the
Intensive involving in Torah learning is indispensable but
insufficient. We must be fully
committed to both “eileh ha-mitzvot” and “eileh ha-devarim,” to
the study of God’s commands and to personally embodying His values. The focus on scholarship without a
concomitant devotion to character refinement results in the kind of internal
strife that the Netziv describes, when Torah becomes a weapon with which to hurt
others rather than a means of serving our Creator. We must open our ears, minds and
hearts to both Moshe’s words of rebuke and the intricate laws of the mitzvot,
developing both our intellectual grasp of Torah wisdom and our personal
embodiment of Torah ideals.
Tuesday
Speaking to Benei Yisrael in Parashat Devarim, Moshe recalls the
extended period spent encircling
The Keli Yakar detects within God’s command a subtle allusion to
another warning, as well. The word “tzafon”
(“north”) is often associated with concealment and understatement. (The word tzafun, as we know from the Pesach
seder, means “hide.”) In advance of Benei Yisrael’s journey along the border of
The
Keli Yakar, who was the rabbi of
This is the opposite of what
Yisrael does in these times on the land of their enemies. One who has one
hundred presents himself, with fancy clothes and expensive houses, as if he has
many thousands. This incites the nations against us, and violates “turn
yourselves northward.” This custom
pervades a large portion of our people. It is what causes all the hardship that
has befallen us. The wise will understand to learn the lesson.
He laments the prevalent practice of the Jews of his time to ostentatiously
flaunt their wealth, going well beyond their means to impress their neighbors. Disregarding Yaakov’s warning to his
sons and God’s command to Benei Yisrael, they made no effort to “conceal”
their material success, and instead made a point of appearing even more
successful than they were. This
unfortunate practice, the Keli Yakar bemoans, “is what causes all the
hardship that has befallen us.”
Rav Mordechai Willig (http://torahweb.org/torah/2010/parsha/rwil_devarim.html),
in discussing the contemporary relevance of the Keli Yakar’s comments,
notes the well-known halakha requiring one who builds a new home to
leave a portion unfinished to commemorate the Temple’s destruction (Shulchan Aruch O.C. 560:1). “Ostentation,”
Rav Willig writes, “is incompatible with a proper perspective of our exiled
status.” Like during Benei
Yisrael’s journeys, we find ourselves “wandering” in a “wilderness” of
exile, and these travels bring us in contact with “
Wednesday
Toward the beginning of Parashat Devarim, Moshe recalls the time when, as
Benei Yisrrael camped at
The Midrash (Devarim Rabba 1) explains why Moshe inserted this
parenthetic blessing to Benei Yisrael that their numbers should continue
to increase: “The Almighty said to Moshe: Since they accepted your rebuke, you
must bless them!” God specifically
instructed Moshe to add a kind word to
Benei Yisrael, as they had accepted
the harsh criticism that he had spoken previously. They were deserving of his blessing,
the Almighty said, because they humbly accepted his critical remarks. The Midrash then adds, “From where do
we know that whoever accepts rebuke earns blessing? As it says, ‘He who is pleasant to
those who rebuke – a blessing of goodness shall be bestowed upon them’ (Mishlei
24:25).”
Chazal here
draw our attention to the value of accepting criticism rather than resisting it. A person’s natural response to
criticism is to feel anger and resentment toward the one speaking, to rush to
his own defense by finding any possible basis for rejecting the accusation –
often by simply dismissing the speaker’s right to criticize. Our Sages, following the exhortation
of King Shelomo in Mishlei, urge us to respond humbly and with an open mind to
critical words, on account of which we will be deserving of much blessing.
Additionally, however, it is likely that
Chazal
here also provide instruction to a person who finds it necessary to offer words
of rebuke. “Since they accepted your rebuke, you must
bless them!” After criticizing, we
must bless. If we criticize
sincerely out of concern for the individual to whom we speak, and not out of
disdain, anger, or arrogance, then we will naturally add kind words of support,
encouragement and blessing after concluding our critical remarks. Adding a “blessing” after criticism
shows the person that the words were spoken out of general concern, and not out
of contempt. In situations where
criticism is warranted, one might be justified, and even compelled, to make his
address as harsh, biting and condemning as possible in order to convey his
message effectively. The Midrash,
however, teaches us that criticism must be followed by “blessing,” that even
when it is warranted, it must be softened by genuine expressions of love,
concern and respect.
Thursday
We read in Parashat Devarim of Moshe’s establishment of a judicial
network, and the instructions he conveyed to the newly appointed judges
regarding honesty, objectivity and commitment to justice.
In codifying the laws relevant to judges of a beit din, the
Shulchan Arukh (C.M. 12:2) rules that the judges must first present to the
litigants the option of peshara
– reaching a mutually acceptable compromise, rather than proceeding with
litigation:
It is a mitzva to say to
the litigants at the outset, “Do you want judgment, or compromise?” If they choose a compromise, then
they [the judges] arrange a compromise for them, and just as [a judge] is
forbidden from subverting judgment, he is similarly forbidden from subverting
the compromise in favor of one [litigant] over the other. And any beit din which always
arranges compromises is praiseworthy.
This applies before the decision is reached, even if they [the judges]
had already heard their arguments and they know in which direction the decision
is leaning… But after the decision is reached and he [a judge] announced,
“So-and-so is guilty,” he is not allowed to make a compromise between them. Somebody else, however, who is not a
judge, is allowed to arrange a compromise between them.
One might ask, why must the judges begin the trial by offering the
possibility of compromise? Haven’t
the litigants already considered that option before deciding to bring the case
to court? Aren’t they already aware
of the possibility of avoiding the time-consuming and emotionally-draining
process of litigation by reaching a compromise?
The Sema, implicitly
addressing this question, writes, “The judge must explain to the litigants that
compromise is preferable for them, and speak to their hearts in the hope that
they will agree upon a compromise.”
Meaning, this mitzva requires the judges not to offer the option
of compromise – an option of which the litigants are undoubtedly already aware –
but rather to try to persuade them to accept a compromise. The judges’ job, before the trial
begins, is to impress upon the litigants that reaching is a compromise may
likely be in their best interests and a worthwhile option for them to choose.
The Sema returns to this theme – that compromise is often
beneficial for the litigants – a bit later in his commentary to the
Shulchan Arukh’s ruling.
Recall that the Shulchan
Arukh allows the judges to
encourage compromise even after hearing both sides, and even if they already
have a sense of who is right. Even
then, they are encouraged to offer the litigants the option to compromise. The
Sema raises the question of why this is proper. If they already sense who is
deserving of the money in question, then what right do they have to encourage
that litigant to accept a compromise?
How does it serve the interests of justice to persuade a litigant to
forego on property that is rightfully his?
The Sema answers, “This does not constitute misguiding one’s fellow, because it
is preferable for this fellow to forego somewhat to the other party so that
peace will prevail between them.”
The judges actually do a great service to the litigant by convincing him to
compromise – even if they sense that his claim is the correct one – as they
thereby restore peaceful relations between him and the other party. He might lose some money, but he
gains something far more valuable – a peaceful resolution to his conflict and
ending a legal battle that could have otherwise ensued for years. Battling litigants are prone to lose
sight of their own best interests amid the boiling tensions and raging emotions. They are likely to continue down the
road of unyielding persistence, despite the toll that the process of litigation
takes on them and their families.
Part of the job of beit din is to open the litigants’ eyes to the
option of compromise, which will, in many cases, offer the long-term benefit of
peaceful relations and peace of mind that far outweighs the money or property in
question.
David Silverberg
Friday
The opening verse of Parashat Devarim lists the names of the locations in
which Moshe addressed Benei Yisrael before his death. Rashi, citing the Midrash, famously
explains that these names are actually veiled references to wrongs committed by
Benei Yisrael at these sites.
Thus, for example, the phrase “Tofel ve-Lavan” refers not to places
called Tofel and Lavan, but rather to “ha-devarim she-tafelu al ha-man she-hu
lavan” – “the words with which they
slandered the manna, which is white.”
This phrase alludes to the occasions when
Benei Yisrael shamefully complained to the Almighty about the miraculous food with which He
fed them in the wilderness.
Specifically, Rashi points to the incident told in Parashat Chukat (21:5) when
Benei Yisrael bemoaned the absence of alternative means of sustenance in
the wilderness.
Why is it significant that the manna was colored white? Why, in reference to
Benei Yisrael’s
complaints about their miraculous sustenance, are we told specifically this
aspect of the manna?
It would seem that it was precisely the manna’s “whiteness,” its
plainness, that frustrated Benei Yisrael.
They complained, “for there is no bread or water, and we loathe this
miserable food” (Bamidbar 21:5).
Benei Yisrael were fed up with the constant, daily routine of the manna. They bemoaned the monotony of their
diet, which was “white” – plain and uninteresting. They received the manna each and
every day effortlessly, and it kept them fed and nourished, but it bored them. The people desired some variety and
“excitement” in their diet. They
were fed up with their plain, “white” menu.
The message of “tofel ve-lavan” is that we can and should feel
content even if our material lives are “plain.”
Contemporary society places a great deal of emphasis on variety and
novelty, keeping life “exciting” by frequently changing what we have and what we
do. In their insatiable quest
for excitement, many people change careers, hobbies, cars, homes, appliances,
gadgets, and – most tragic of all – spouses, on a regular basis. We seem plagued by an ongoing
restlessness and dissatisfaction with long-term routines and a narrow range of
familiar experiences. We are always
looking for something new, something different, for a variety, rather than
feeling happy and content with the “manna” that God lovingly sends us each and
every day.
Life can be enjoyable and meaningful even if it is “white,” even if one
cannot afford to travel the world, or purchase the latest model of car or
computer gadgets. We must try to
find happiness and contentment with our daily routines, with the “manna” that
the Almighty gives us each day, and avoid the tendency to feel frustrated and
restless over the real or perceived lack of variety.
David
Silverberg
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