PARASHAT NITZAVIM-VAYELEKH

A THOUGHT FOR PARSHAT NITZAVIM-VAYELEKH

            The final commandment in the Torah is to write for oneself a Sefer Torah.  While the modern practicalities of this commandment are a subject of discussion among the commentators, it is interesting to note that last week, in Parshat Ki Tavo, the Jewish people were also commanded to write a Sefer Torah as well.  However, a vast difference exists between the two Sifrei Torah.  Bnei Yisrael, upon entry into Eretz Yisrael, were required to engrave the entire Torah upon a large stone, where it would serve as a permanent reminder of the covenant between Hashem and his people.  The individual Sefer Torah, however, is very different.  Upon the rock, which required little preparation before the Torah was engraved on it, the process of producing a kosher parchment out of goat skin is a long and arduous one.   Until the skin has been properly treated, and all foreign objects have been removed, the act of writing the Torah upon it cannot begin, and if it does, the Torah is invalid.

            Based upon an idea of the Avnei Nezer, we can suggest the following distinction between the two situations for our own lives.  We each have two connections to the Torah – our connection to the Jewish people, and a connection on our own personal level.  The part of us that relates to the Torah through our sense of belonging to the community requires no preparation or effort.  We all have a “pintele Yid”, a pure connection through our Jewish soul that requires no effort on our part.  However, there is another aspect to our service of Hashem, what the Avnei Nezer calls “the externality of the heart, that is like raw material that can be shaped and formed, and therefore needs labor and effort to be purified and cleansed spiritually, before it may receive the Divine Presence. This aspect requires Torah study and mitzvah performance, just as the goat skin required treatment before it is kosher to write a Torah upon it.” 

Yaakov Beasley

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THE NATURE OF BIRKHOT HA-REI-ACH (Blessings Over Fragrances) – Part 5

            We have made a suggestion that should help us analyze and understand the disagreement on whether or not a person has been required to recite a blessing on inadvertently partaking of a peasant fragrance.  Unlike physical benefits, the benefit provided by a pleasant fragrance is completely spiritual in nature (see the Rabbeinu Bachaye, Bereishit 2:4, on how person’s spirituality is intertwined with their breathing).  Therefore, it required a separate verse.

            For this reason, we can begin to explain the approach of the Taz and the Arukh Ha-Shulchan, who hold that irrespective of whether or not the item was originally made for the purposes of smelling or not, the intention of the person is crucial.  Since the nature of the benefit is a spiritual one, it requires a greater level of awareness on the part of the recipient than if he had eaten something.  Without intention, the benefit is negligible.  On the other hand, we can suggest that the Bach holds as follows:  once a person is in a situation where he comes in contact with something that was made for emitting pleasant smells, a person acquires a certain level of awareness that is automatically enough to require them to recite a blessing.  However, this awareness is missing when a person inadvertently smells a pleasant odor from an item that was not expressly made for that purpose.

Yaakov Beasley

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            In the opening verse of the haftara for Nitzavim-Vayelekh, the prophet Yeshayahu expresses his exuberance over the fact that God has "clothed me in clothing of salvation, has enwrapped me in a cloak of righteousness" (Yeshayahu 61:10).  He then compares these "clothes" to the exquisite finery of a bride and groom: "ke-chatan yekhahein pe'eir ve-khe-kala tadeh kheileha."  This clause is generally translated as, "as a groom adorns himself with glory [or 'turban'], and as a bride dons her garments."

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, however, in his commentary to the haftarot, suggests a different reading, translating this clause as, "as a bridegroom invests his finery with priest-like dedication and like a bride who graces her garments."  In his view, the prophet here focuses not on the effect the garments have upon the individual, but rather the powerful impact that the individual has upon his garments.  This interpretation is predicated primarily upon the verbs yekhahein and tadeh, which Rav Mendel Hirsch understands as referring to more than simply donning garments.  The groom does not simply wear his finery; he makes it "priestly" (yekhahein).  His inherent grace and charm lends his garments a dimension of glory and enhances their magnificence.  Similarly, in Rav Hirsch's words, "it is the most delicate description of feminine grace and charm if one says of a bride that it is she who in truth gives beauty to her bridal dress and ornaments."  This verse speaks of a bride who "graces her garments," as opposed to a bride whose garments grace her.

The prophet thus compares redeemed Israel to a bride and groom who bestow beauty and elegance upon their finery.  In their state of redemption, Benei Yisrael understand how to infuse their "garments," an analogy for their material possessions, with beauty and meaning.  They have finally been taught how to avoid the corruptive influences of wealth and prosperity, and to utilize material goods for the higher cause of moral and spiritual perfection.  According to Rav Hirsch's reading, the prophet here foresees the time after the nation's redemption when "material possessions will attain their purest and noblest use by the sons and daughters of Zion now grown to maturity."

This theme emerges as well from a verse a bit later in this prophecy (62:9): "For those who harvest it [the fields' produce] shall eat and praise the Lord."  Yeshayahu makes a point of emphasizing that Benei Yisrael will not only reap and enjoy the benefits of their toil, but that this enjoyment will become an occasion for giving praise to God.  If the destruction and exile were caused by the abuse and misuse of wealth, by the nation's inability to channel their resources towards the fulfillment of our spiritual destiny, then the redemption will be characterized by their donning a me'il tzedaka ("cloak of righteousness"), the transformation of Am Yisrael's "garments," our material resources, into vehicles of piety and sanctity, as means of bringing the Almighty closer to us and to our lives, rather than a cause for Him to distance Himself from us.

David Silverberg

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            In a famous series of verses in Parashat Nitzavim (30:11-13), Moshe impresses upon Benei Yisrael the fact that "this commandment that I command you this day" is not "distant" from them, but is rather quite accessible.  He concludes, "For the matter is very close to you – in your mouth and heart to achieve it."  The Ramban famously contends that Moshe refers here to the mitzva of repentance (as opposed to several Talmudic passages which explain this verse as speaking of Torah generally).  The need for Moshe's strong emphasis on the accessibility of teshuva is quite clear.  Changes in lifestyle are very difficult to implement and maintain; it is natural for a person to conclude that he simply is who he is, and that he is incapable of self-improvement.  Moshe therefore stresses the "closeness" of teshuva, that it lies well within each person's capabilities, and not "in the heavens" or "across the sea" (verses 12-13).

            But while the need for Moshe's exhortation is understood, it itself requires some explanation.  Is teshuva really "very close to you"?  Isn't the process of change and self-improvement a most difficult and grueling one?

            To explain Moshe's insistence on the "closeness" of teshuva, Rav Avraham Pam (as cited in Rav Shalom Smith's The Pleasant Way) suggested that these verses refer to the initial stages of the process of repentance.  Indeed, the internal transformation that teshuva entails is exceedingly difficult to achieve.  But the Almighty demands only that we make a sincere, concerted effort to begin the process, to take whatever steps we can at any given point and commit ourselves to thereafter taking the next steps.  Rav Pam draws an analogy to a failing entrepreneur who files for bankruptcy to protect him from his creditors.  The creditors will of course not look too kindly upon the person whom they had trusted and now cannot repay his debts.  If, however, he goes the extra mile and makes a concentrated effort to pay whatever little he can, even a token sum, then he has a chance of remaining on favorable terms with the creditors and perhaps even preserving their confidence for future dealings.  Once they see he is sincere in his attempts to pay his debts as quickly as possible, they might be prepared to adopt a more patient and flexible attitude.

            Rav Pam suggests that we approach the Yamim Nora'im with a similar mindset.  As we look to the Yemei Ha-din we might find ourselves carrying a heavy load of debts; we can identify numerous shortcomings that we feel incapable of satisfactorily rectifying.  Rather than fall into despair, a person in such a situation should instead commit himself at very least to what he feels capable of doing, to "pay" at least part of the "debts."  It is to this initial process of teshuva that Moshe refers when he insists that repentance is "very close to you."  We might be correct in feeling incapable of perfecting ourselves completely, but we would be terribly mistaken to think that we cannot make small steps towards that goal.

David Silverberg

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            Yesterday, we discussed the famous verses in Parashat Nitzavim (30:11-13) in which Moshe assures Benei Yisrael that "this commandment which I command you this day" is readily accessible to them, and is not "in the heavens" or "across the sea."  Although the Ramban explains these verses as referring to the specific mitzva of repentance (as discussed yesterday), many others – including several passages in the Talmud and Midrash – claim that Moshe speaks here of Torah observance and knowledge generally.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, who follows the view that Moshe refers here to the accessibility of Torah in a general sense, provides the following explanation for Moshe's famous declaration, "Lo va-shamayim hi" ("it is not in the heavens"):

The teachings and actions which it has in view do not move in the sphere of the supernatural or the heavens, and nothing which was necessary for it being understood or accomplished remained in heaven in the Divine Revelation, that you could say: "where can we find a mind so superhumanly enlightened that it penetrate into the secrets of heaven for us, or bring us a new revelation from heaven, which we still lack, that will complement our present knowledge, then we could keep the Torah in accordance with the Will of God."

In other words, Moshe here affirms that no further revelation – either through a public spectacle or through any sort of prophecy – is necessary for the Torah's observance.  There is nothing else in "the sphere of the supernatural or the heavens" upon which the fulfillment of God's will depends; it has all been already conveyed to us at Ma'amad Har Sinai.  (See also Rambam, Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah 9:4, where he seems to advance a similar reading of lo va-shamayim hi.)

            We might suggest applying this understanding of lo va-shamayim hi to the Ramban's approach to this verse, whereby it refers to the particular mitzva of teshuva.  All too often, people resign themselves to their current condition and state of being because they wait for something to happen that will effect the change for them.  Rather than exert the necessary efforts to improve, we often convince ourselves that we are independently incapable of doing so, and we must instead wait for something else to do it for us.  Lo va-shamayim hi perhaps means that just as we do not require any subsequent prophecy or revelation to inform us of God's will, so must we not wait for any divine intervention or inspiration to perform teshuva.  We have to make the proactive effort to change ourselves, rather than sit idly by waiting for God or something or somebody else to do it for us.

            This fundamental message may very well underlie the famous story told in the Talmud (Avoda Zara 17a) of Elazar Ben Dordaya, a man who devoted his life to sinful pleasures, visiting every harlot in the world.  When finally a woman he visited declared that he could never repent, Elazar ran outside and appealed to the natural elements for help.  When they did not respond, he lowered his head and announced, "Ein ha-davar taluy ela bi" – "The matter depends solely on me!"  It appears that Elazar understood all along that his chosen path was the wrong one, but he nevertheless followed it waiting for something to happen that would place him on a different course.  The last woman he visited awakened him to the reality that with this mindset, he could never repent.  Self-improvement is not possible unless a person is prepared to make the changes himself, rather than hoping for something or somebody else to change him.  Elazar thus finally came to the realization that "ein ha-davar taluy ela bi," that only his own resolve and effort can raise him from depths of depravity to the lofty heights of teshuva.  The key to repentance is to be found not in the heavens, but rather within each and every individual.

David Silverberg

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            In Parashat Nitzavim Moshe addresses Benei Yisrael and speaks to them about the covenant into which they had just entered and the repercussions of its violation.  He warns that should a person "fancy himself immune, saying, 'All shall be well with me, for I shall follow the will of my heart'" (29:18), he will be subject to the harsh punishments associated with the covenant, and his assumption that he could escape retribution will be disproved.

            The question arises, why exactly would a person "fancy himself immune" and assume that he could escape the terms of Benei Yisrael's covenant with God?

            Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, negates this question by proposing a radically different reading of this verse.  In his view, Moshe here addresses a different kind of defector than the one portrayed in the previous verse, when he speaks of a person who chooses to worship foreign deities (29:17).  Whereas the idolater has rejected the covenant in its entirety and, even more so, its very basis and foundation, the individual spoken of in this verse avows a conditional commitment to the covenant.  He seeks not to deny God's existence or authority, but rather to "follow the will of my heart," to observe only that which he can rationally comprehend.  He is unwilling to submit to laws and strictures that do not accommodate his preconceived ideas and intuitive sense, and thus accepts the Torah only conditionally.  When Moshe speaks of such an individual declaring, "All shall be well with me" ("shalom yiheyeh li" – literally, "I shall have peace), he refers not to his perceived immunity from divine retribution, but rather to a type of internal, intellectual peace.  This person wishes to avoid internal conflict, the uneasy feeling of surrendering one's rational conclusions to divine law, and therefore accepts only that for which he can provide a clear explanation.

            Intriguing as Rav Mecklenberg's reading is, it does not, as Professor Nechama Leibowitz observed, appear to accommodate the general context of this verse.  Moshe's comments here serve as a kind of conclusion to the tokhecha section presented earlier (chapter 28), in which he describes the dreadful calamities that God will bring upon the nation should they disobey His laws.  In Parashat Nitzavim, Moshe seeks to emphasize that these terms of the covenant are unavoidable; one cannot violate the Torah's commands and hope to escape punishment.  It therefore seems more likely that the phrase "all will be well with me" refers to the mistaken presumption that the sinner can avoid the harsh punishments of the tokhecha, rather than a sense of intellectual easiness.

            Tomorrow we will iy"H discuss a different approach taken in interpreting this verse.

David Silverberg

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            Yesterday, we discussed a verse in Parashat Nitzavim (29:18) in which Moshe issues a warning to anyone among Benei Yisrael who might "fancy himself immune, saying, 'All shall be well with me, for I shall follow the will of my heart'."  Contrary to this individual's presumption that he can violate the terms of Benei Yisrael's covenant with the Almighty without suffering the consequences, Moshe warns that "the Lord shall not consent to forgive him" and will visit harsh retribution upon such a person (verse 19).

As we mentioned, the question arises from this verse as to why Moshe suspected that some among Benei Yisrael might feel capable of escaping the consequences of breaching the covenant.  Rav Yitzchak Arama, in his Akeidat Yitzchak, suggests an answer based on a novel interpretation of the concluding clause of the aforementioned verse: "le-ma'an sefot ha-rava et ha-tzemei'a" – "in order to add the moist onto the dry."  Numerous different approaches have been taken in explaining this difficult phrase.  According to the Akeidat Yitzchak, Moshe here analogizes this individual's attitude to two adjacent agricultural fields.  When a farmer irrigates one field, the other enjoys some effects from the watering.  Correspondingly, Moshe suspects that some among the nation might feel that they can enjoy the benefits of God's "watering" of Benei Yisrael regardless of whether he shoulders his share of the nation's religious burden.  Even if he "follows the will of my heart," he supposes, he is still guaranteed inclusion in the blessings that God bestows upon Am Yisrael generally in reward for their devotion.  Just as the "dry" field enjoys the benefits of its proximity to the adjoining "moist" field, so does the sinner depicted by Moshe feel secure in the reward promised to Benei Yisrael as a nation, even if he personally remains "dry" from mitzva observance.

Professor Nechama Leibowitz, in her discussion of this verse, cites the Akeidat Yitzchak's interpretation and notes how the perspective taken by the sinner described in this verse, as understood by the Akeidat Yitzchak, is the diametric opposite of the Jewish outlook on personal responsibility.  This individual wishes to reap the benefits of other people's work without shouldering his share of the burden; Jewish tradition teaches that one should assume responsibility for others, even those who shirk responsibility, and even the entire world at large.  The Rambam famously writes in Hilkhot Teshuva (3:4) that a person at all times should see the world as though it hangs in abeyance, precariously balanced between virtue and sin, between merit and condemnation.  With this perspective, one must constantly consider the possibility that any mitzva he performs will tilt the scales in favor of the world's continued existence, whereas even the slightest mishap could yield the opposite effect, Heaven forbid.  Thus, not only is it wrong to claim rights to the privileges afforded by membership in Am Yisrael without meeting the responsibilities associated with that membership, but we must each assume personal responsibility for mankind at large, and hold ourselves accountable for the outcome of God's judgment of the entire world.