Vayeishev: Should this Rashi be Taught to Children?

The Torah content for the month of Kislev has been sponsored by Serena and Paul Koppel, who want to be makir tov and express gratitude.

Click here for a printer-friendly 1-page version of this article, and click here for the podcast version.

Artwork: DALL-E's response to the prompt, "post-impressionist painting of young Biblical Joseph being forgotten in prison by the king's steward"

Vayeishev: Should this Rashi be Taught to Children?

The final episode in Parashas Vayeishev opens with Yosef incarcerated in Potiphar’s dungeon. After interpreting the dream of the sar ha’mashkim (chief cupbearer), Yosef makes a request: “But if you would remember me when things go well for you, please do me a favor and make mention of me to Paroh and take me out of this house. For indeed, I was stolen from the land of the Hebrews, and here, too, I did not do anything that they should have put me into the pit.” (Bereishis 40:14-15). The parashah concludes on a somber note: “And the Sar ha’Mashkim did not remember Yosef; he forgot him” (ibid. 40:23).

Ask any child educated in the Jewish day school system “Why was Yosef forgotten?” and they’ll likely answer: “as a punishment for trusting in the sar ha’mashkim instead of Hashem.” This is Rashi’s (ibid.) explanation:

Because Yosef placed his [trust] in [the sar ha’mashkim] to recall him, it became necessary for him to be imprisoned for two more years, as it is stated: “Praiseworthy is the man who has placed his trust in Hashem, and did not turn to the haughty” (Tehilim 40:5) – that is, he shouldn’t have trusted in Egypt, who is called “haughty” (Yeshayahu 30:7).

Ralbag takes the opposite approach. He highlights this in his list of toalos (lessons) on the parashah (40:14):

The seventh lesson [we learn from this section] is in middos (character traits), namely, that it is proper for a person to strive with all his might to save himself from the bad [situation] in which he finds himself, using all the means at his disposal that might help him, and he should not rely on a miracle, even if he is under Hashem’s providence to a high degree. You see that despite the wondrous extent of Hashem’s providence towards Yosef, he [nevertheless] entreated the sar ha’mashkim to recall him to Paroh to take him out of the dungeon.

Why, then, was the righteous Yosef forced to languish in prison for two additional years? Ralbag answers (ibid. 41:39-45, Toalos, after the 8th toeles), explicitly doubling down on his rejection of Rashi’s approach:

It should be clear that Yosef did not place his trust in human beings (lit. “make flesh his strength,” cf. Yirmiyahu 17:5) when he spoke to the sar ha’mashkim; he merely saw that mentioning him to Paroh would bring about good, as it ultimately did. But Hashem caused the sar ha’mashkim to not remember him until the time arrived that would be most beneficial to Yosef. Thus, you will find that all the misfortunes that befell [Yosef] from the time he was sold – all of them were a means of bringing him into power, and this is clear with even the most superficial analysis.

Neither Rashi nor Ralbag were the originators of the interpretations they cite in their commentaries. Both can be found in the midrashic literature (Bereishis Rabbah 89:3). First the Sages present the view that Yosef’s sentence was increased by two years because he asked the sar ha’mashkim to recall him, in violation of “Praiseworthy is the man who has placed in trust in Hashem.” A few sentences later, the Sages offer an alternative explanation: “Why were two years added to his imprisonment? So that Paroh would dream a dream, through which [Yosef] would become great.” Rashi prefers the first explanation, whereas Ralbag opts for the second.

Of the two views, Rashi’s is the most difficult. We see numerous examples in Tanach of righteous individuals who had great bitachon (trust) in Hashem, but nevertheless adhered to the unanimously accepted principle of “ein somchin al ha’neis” (“we do not rely on a miracle”). Thankfully, my Rosh ha’Yeshiva wrote an essay featuring a beautifully nuanced explanation of how Yosef’s appeal to the sar ha’mashkim evinced a lack of bitachon in Hashem and why, in this case, a person who fully trusted in Hashem would have simply awaited His salvation.

The problem with Rashi, in my opinion, is not what he wrote, but how it’s presented. Odds are that the young children who are taught this Rashi as pshat (the straightforward meaning of the text) will walk away with the message that Yosef was wrong to ask for help, and that it is better to rely on a miracle than to act intelligently. I am convinced that it is better to teach Ralbag as pshat, but I’m open to hearing arguments in favor of Rashi.

________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Chayei Sarah: The Pshat of “Place Your Hand Under My Thigh”

This week's Torah content has been sponsored anonymously, in gratitude for making my Torah available and accessible to everyone. May Hashem send a refuah shleimah to Tzvi ha'Kohen ben Shoshanah Geylah.

Click here for a printer-friendly 1-page version of this article, and click here for the podcast version.

Artwork: DALL-E's response to the prompt: "abstract oil painting of Biblical Abraham sitting on his servant's hand" 

Chayei Sarah: The Pshat of “Place Your Hand Under My Thigh”

When Avraham Avinu charges Eliezer to find a wife for Yitzchak, he begins by saying: “Place now your hand under my thigh, and I will have you swear by Hashem, God of heaven and God of earth, that you not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites” (Bereishis 24:2). Similarly, when Yaakov is about to die, he tells Yosef: “Please – if I have found favor in your eyes, please place your hand under my thigh and do kindness and truth with me – please do not bury me in Egypt” (ibid. 47:29). The question is: What is the significance of this gesture?

Rashi (ibid. 24:2), citing Chazal’s drashah (Midrash Rabbah ibid.), maintains that “place your hand under my thigh” means “grab hold of the place of my bris milah.” He explains: “one who swears an oath needs to take a mitzvah object in hand, such as a Torah scroll or tefillin, and milah was the first mitzvah for [Avraham], and came to him through pain, and was beloved to him.” According to Rashi, the conduct of Avraham and Yaakov serves as a precedent for the halachic requirement to hold a mitzvah object when making certain types of oaths (see Talmud Bavli Shavuos 38b and Rashi’s commentary there). Rashi does not qualify his comments, nor does he cite any alternative views.

The majority of other Rishonim either oppose or qualify Rashi’s interpretation. The leader of the opposition is Ibn Ezra (Bereishis 24:2) who objects to the notion that Avraham swore by milah, and then offers his own take:

[The Sages] said that [the phrase “place your hand under my thigh”] refers to milah, but if this were so, he would have sworn by his milah and not by Hashem. The more likely explanation to me is that it was customary in those days for a person to place his hand under the thigh of the person who had mastery over him, meaning: “If you are under my dominion, place your hand under my thigh,” and the master would sit on the hand, [as if the servant were] saying: “Behold! My hand is under your dominion to do your will.” This custom is still followed in India today.

Ibn Ezra’s view is cited and endorsed by a number of other Rishonim, including Rashbam (ibid.), Bechor Shor (ibid.), Radak (ibid.), Chizkuni (ibid.), Rabbeinu Bachya (ibid.), Tur (peirush ha’aroch ibid.), Ralbag (ibid.), and Ibn Kaspi (ibid.). Other major commentators highlight the difficulties with Rashi. Abravanel (ibid. question #4) rejects Rashi’s approach as “extremely improbable, for a person cannot take an oath on any mitzvah [object,] like maakeh, sukkah, or lulav, and especially not on milah, which would be disgraceful.” The Rosh (Shavuos 6:1) finds the plain reading of Chazal’s drashah to be so halachically problematic that he relegates it to a mere asmachta (textual allusion) rather than a legitimate halachic source – unlike Rashi, who takes the drashah at its halachic face value.

In sum, Rashi is the minority position among the mainstream commentators who comment on this pasuk. Even those who cite both opinions characterize Rashi’s as “the midrashic approach” and Ibn Ezra’s as “pshat.”

I do not find this to be problematic. However, there are those who find this conclusion to be deeply troublesome. A number of prominent rabbis, among them the Roshei Yeshiva of Beth Medrash Govoha (of Lakewood, NJ), have recently signed a ban on a popular edition of Chumash entitled Pshuto shel Mikra (LNN, 11/15/22). The ban alleges (among other things) that this Chumash constitutes “a stumbling block for the masses” because it presents other traditional commentaries as pshat instead of regarding Rashi as the definitive pshat.

My thoughts on this ban cannot be shared in the space of a 1-page article. Moreover, as of this morning, I have only read 24 pages of the 76-page Kuntress Vayivinu ba’Mikra which explicates the many reasons for the ban. Suffice it to say, as someone who favors the non-Rashi pshat commentators among the Rishonim, I am as disturbed by this ban as its promulgators are disturbed by the Chumash Pshuto shel Mikra. I can’t help but wonder what all the Rishonim cited above would say about this treatment of their Torah.

________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Wishful Thinking and Prophetic Interpretation

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Ariel Rachmanov, a friend and Mishlei talmid of mine. Ariel works for Keller Williams Real Estate and has generously offered to donate to the Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund a percentage of any business that comes his way as a result of this sponsorship, resulting in a Mishleic "win, win, win" scenario for all parties involved. Ariel is based in New York but will be happy to help you meet your real estate needs in all 50 states.

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article, and click here for an audio version.

Wishful Thinking and Prophetic Interpretation

Last summer, my mom asked me to look through a bunch of random Jewish books in our possession to see which ones we should keep and which ones we should sell or give away. One of the books I found (and have no idea how we came to own) was called, Fascinating Torah Prophecies Currently Unfolding (1997). The contents are exactly what you’d expect from a book with that title – especially one with a teaser banner on the cover advertising “fascinating codes and more.” 

I found myself thinking of this book after reading R’ Yosef ibn Kaspi’s introduction to Sefer Yirmiyahu:

This prophet Yirmiyah also did what Yeshaya [did], mentioning at the beginning of his book the name and intent of its author. This prophet also informed us of the intent of his book by stating that his prophecies were from the time of Yoshiyahu until the end of the days of Tzidkiyahu, in whose days and era the Temple was destroyed. Therefore, note that this prophet doesn’t speak at all about the building of the Third Temple, which we undoubtedly yearn for today. This is clear, for he prophesied the destruction of the First Temple and the building of the Second Temple, as Yeshaya did. The general rule is that it is not at all appropriate to ascribe to any prophet a prophecy about the building of the Third Temple unless we first find written in his book a promise about the destruction of the Second Temple. Without a doubt, Yirmiyah did not strive to assure them about the destruction of the Second Temple, even though he undoubtedly alluded [to it] with hints, as Yeshayahu did – just as Moshe alluded to the destruction of the First Temple with hints that would not be grasped by the masses … someone who is an expert in these holy books will understand the truth of our words.

Ibn Kaspi’s “general rule” is not unanimous. Others maintain that prophets do prophesy beyond their stated range. Rashi, for instance, interprets “I shall yet build you, and you shall be built, O virgin of Israel” (Yirmiyahu 31:3) to mean: “You had two buildings made by men. Therefore, they were destroyed. Yet again, I, Myself, will build a third building which will be built forever.” Ibn Kaspi was aware of such views, which is why he stated his objections at the outset of his commentary.

Which side of the machlokess do I think is correct? I have no idea. Why not? Because, as Ibn Kaspi said, only “someone who is an expert in these holy books will understand the truth of our words,” and I am not an expert in prophetic exegesis. Not even close. I have heard it said in the name of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik that “we no longer know how to learn Neviim nowadays.” I was unable to track down a source or a context for this quotation, but I refuse to believe he meant that the ideas and mussar (rebuke) of the neviim is inaccessible to us. Instead, I assume he meant that we, unlike the medieval commentators, are unable to decipher the precise meanings of the prophecies in the Neviim portion of Tanach.

It is very easy for a person to think they’re deciphering cryptic prophecies with their mind when all they’re doing is engaging in wishful thinking with their imagination. Who wouldn’t want to find a message of hope in a pasuk from Sefer Yirmiyahu about yemos ha’Moshiach and the building of Bayis Shelishi? But that’s exactly the point: our interpretation of the neviim should not be guided by hope, but by our knowledge of how nevuah works and how the neviim wrote. Rashi did not interpret the aforementioned pasuk to be about Bayis Shelishi simply because he wanted it to be about yemos ha’Moshiach. His interpretation was guided by his understanding of the subject matter.

Lastly, we must remember the Rambam’s words (Hilchos Melachim u’Milchamos 12:2) about Messianic speculations:

Regarding all of these [details of the time of Moshiach] – no person knows how they will be until they happen, for these things were hidden even from the prophets, and there is no clear tradition from the Sages on these matters. Therefore, there is disagreement about them. Nevertheless, neither the order nor the details of these matters are an essential part of the religion. A person shouldn’t involve himself in the words of the aggados (homiletical teachings), nor should he spend time in the words of the midrashim which were stated about these topics, and he shouldn’t regard them as fundamental, for they do not bring a person to fear [of God] nor to love [of God]. 

__________________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Haftaras Parashas Pinchas: Goyishe Jews

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Judah and Naomi Dardik in loving memory of Rabbi Moskowitz zt''l, who taught his students to pursue truth by asking questions, who modeled love of Torah and learning, and who exemplified living a life of the mind.

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article, and click here for an audio version.

Haftaras Parashas Pinchas: Goyishe Jews

Preface: I wasn't in the mood to write a dvar Torah article for this Friday. I almost didn't write anything at all, but I told myself, "I'll just start writing and see if I end up with anything good." Well, I ended up with something, but it ain't a dvar Torah! I don't even know if there are any "ideas" per se, other than some insight into prophetic rhetoric. Also, this was definitely influenced by a discussion I had with my students over the course of this week about Jewish racism. Anyway, think of this as more of an editorial or a rant inspired by the haftarah than an actual dvar Torah. 

I didn’t encounter Jewish racism against non-Jews until I moved to the East Coast. That was the first time I heard derogatory statements made about “goyim” (to be pronounced not as “goh-YEEM,” but “GUH-yim,” as if one is spitting out a word with a bitter taste). Sometimes this racism is expressed as generic xenophobia. Other times it takes the form of specific racial stereotyping. Sometimes it’s muttered in undertones. Other times it’s expressed unabashedly, or even proudly. I am often tempted to respond to these comments by saying, “Hey, buddy, my grandma is a goy!” or “You do know that I used to be a goy, right?” On one occasion I might or might not have responded with an antisemitic slur against the offender.

As disgusting as I find this anti-gentile bigotry to be, I do think there’s a place for it: when rebuking Jews.

The haftarah for Parashas Pinchas is the opening chapter of Sefer Yirmiyahu, whose prophetic career begins with the following call-to-action from Hashem: “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you left the womb, I sanctified you. I have appointed you as a navi la’goyim (prophet for the nations)” (1:5). The problem is that Yirmiyahu did not act as a prophet for the goyim, but only for Israel.

The simplest answer is to read “la’goyim” not as “for the nations” but as “regarding the nations.” Shadal (among others) explains: “navi la'goyim [means] for Israel and the nations – not that he will go and speak to the nations, but rather, in speaking to Israel, he will mention what will befall some of the nations.”

Rashi, however, takes a different approach:

navi la'goyim [means] to the Jews, who act like goyim. This is expounded in Sifrei: "‘A prophet from your midst ... I will raise up for you" (Devarim 18:15) – not for those who deny Torah. How, then, do I understand 'I will designate you as a prophet for the goyim'? This refers to the Jews who act like goyim.”

Yirmiyahu wasn’t the only navi to rebuke his brethren for acting like non-Jews. In one of the first prophecies about Churban Bayis Rishon, Yeshayahu says, “Hear the word of Hashem, O chiefs of Sedom; give ear to the Torah of our God, O people of Amorah” (Yeshayahu 1:10), comparing the Jewish residents of Jerusalem to the non-Jewish citizens of the two most notoriously evil cities on record. He then goes on to relay Hashem’s rejection of their divine service on account of their grievous interpersonal injustices:

[Hashem says:] I hate your Roshei Chodashim and your Moadim with My Being; they have become a bother to Me; I am weary of bearing [them]. When you spread your hands [in prayer], I will hide My eyes from you; even when you increase prayer, I will not listen; your hands are filled with blood. Wash yourselves, purify yourselves, remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes; cease doing evil. Learn to do good, seek justice, vindicate the victim, render justice to the orphan; take up the grievance of the widow. (1:14-17)

Imagine if someone tried to pull a Yeshayahu move like this in a modern setting: a shul rav gets up in front of his frum congregation to give his Shabbos dvar Torah and says: “You’re all a bunch of GUHyim. Hashem hates your Shabbosos. Your Yomim Tovim disgust Him. Why do you even bother davening? He won’t listen to you. You’re like Hamas. You’re worse than Putin’s henchmen. You’re no better than the Nazis.”

“But wouldn’t this approach to rebuke perpetuate the same anti-gentile prejudices you condemn?” Yes, unfortunately, it would. But it’s a step in the right direction. If every instance of anti-goyim bigotry were met with an equal but opposite rebuke for “goyishe behavior” on the part of the offender, maybe they would think twice before speaking. Of course, I don’t really believe this would work. But it’s a nice fantasy.

___________________________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Etzba Elohim: The Finger of WHICH God?

The content on this podcast has been sponsored by my Patrons on Patreon. The total cost of maintaining my five podcasts in 2021 amounted to over $2000 - all of which would have come out of my own pocket were it not for your generosity. Thank you for helping me make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone!

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article, and click here for an audio version.

Photo: Hubble image of a Bok globule in the Carina Nebula nicknamed "The Finger of God"

Etzba Elohim: The Finger of Which God?

The first miraculous sign that Moshe performed before Paroh was the transformation of Aharon’s staff into a snake. This sign was replicated by Paroh’s sorcerers (Shemos 7:11). The first (ibid. 7:22) and second (ibid. 8:3) of the Ten Plagues were also replicated by the sorcerers, but not the third: “The sorcerers did the same with their magic, to draw forth the lice, but they could not … The sorcerers said to Paroh, ‘It is the finger of God!’ Paroh’s heart was strong, and he did not heed them, as Hashem had spoken” (ibid. 8:15).

The phrase exclaimed by the sorcerers was “etzba Elohim.” This is commonly understood to be a concession on their part, and an acknowledgment that this was from Hashem. Rashi, for instance, interprets their words to mean: “this plague was not done with magic; it is from Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu” (Rashi on Shemos 8:15).

There is a glaring problem with this explanation: the Divine name used by the sorcerers is “Elohim,” but this whole time, Moshe has been speaking in the name of Hashem (i.e. the Tetragrammaton). Indeed, when Moshe first approached Paroh in the name of Hashem, Paroh responded: “Who is Hashem that I should heed His voice to send out Israel? I do not know Hashem, nor will I send out Israel” (ibid. 5:2). But during the second plague, Paroh was already sufficiently familiar with Hashem to the point where he said: “Entreat Hashem that He remove the tzfarde’a from me and my people, and I shall send out the people that they may bring offerings to Hashem” (ibid. 8:4). If the sorcerers intended to admit to Paroh that this was Hashem – the Deity Whom Paroh, himself, had just acknowledged by name in the last plague – why would they say “etzba Elohim”? Why not “etzba Hashem”?

In light of these difficulties, the Ibn Ezra (ibid. 8:15) concludes that “etzba Elohim” was not an acknowledgment on the sorcerers’ part that the plague was sent by Hashem. Rather:

They said to Paroh: “This plague did not come via Aharon on behalf of Israel to send [Israel] forth; rather, it was a plague of Elohim, in accordance with the arrangement of stars over the mazal (Zodiac sign) of Egypt.” I have already explained that Paroh did not deny the Creator, but only [the deity] “Hashem” that Moshe mentioned to him.

Malbim (ibid.) sides with the Ibn Ezra on this matter and explains the pesukim in an even more radical way:

When you look through all these parshiyos you will never find Paroh or the Egyptians calling Hashem by the name “Elokim” but only by the Tetragrammaton. The name “Elohim” was, for them, a reference to the celestial order or to their gods – not to the God of Israel Who was called by the Tetragrammaton. [The only time] they used the name [Elokim] is when they said, “go and offer sacrifices to your Elokim” (ibid. 8:21) – meaning “Elokei Yisrael” (the God of Israel), and not simply “Elohim.” Thus, it is clear that when they said, “etzba Elohim,” they were not referring to the God of Israel, [for if they were,] they should have said “etzba Hashem hu” or “etzba Elokei Yisrael.” Since this plague came without warning, they thought that it didn’t come from the God of Israel for the sake of Israel, because if so, Moshe would have been informed of it [by God] and he would have warned [Paroh] in advance. [Rather,] they said that this plague was sent to them by the God of Egypt, whom they referred to by the unqualified name “Elohim” (lit. “God”) … It is for this reason [that the pasuk subsequently says,] “Paroh’s heart was strong and he did not heed them,” because there was no need to be afraid anymore, for his fear had passed [in light of the sorcerers’ words].

According to this interpretation, there is no indication in the pesukim that any faction of Egypt – neither the sorcerers nor Paroh – acknowledged Hashem’s miraculous intervention until the fourth plague, when Hashem informed Paroh in advance: “I will make a distinction between My people and your people” (ibid. 8:19). It was only after the fourth plague that Paroh said: “Go, bring offerings to your God … entreat for me!” (ibid. 8:24). The fourth plague was Egypt’s first acknowledgment “that I am Hashem in the midst of the land” (ibid. 8:18).

___________________________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Parashas Noach: Migdal Bavel and the Hindu Account of the Mabul

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by an anonymous donor, in memory of her grandmother, Golda Henya bat Devora a"h.

 
Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article, and click here for an audio version.

Parashas Noach: Migdal Bavel and the Hindu Account of the Mabul

Rashi (Bereishis 11:1) mentions three possible motives of the Dor Ha'Haflagah (Generation of the Dispersion) for building the tower. According to his third explanation, the people said: "Once every 1656 years, the firmament becomes unstable, as it did in the time of the Mabul (Flood). Come, let us make supports for it!" (Bereishis Rabbah 38:6). On a basic level, Chazal are teaching us that the Dor Ha'Haflagah denied that the Mabul was Divine punishment for the sinfulness of mankind; likewise, they denied Hashem’s promise that He would never bring such destruction again. Instead, they viewed the Mabul as a natural, cyclical phenomenon – one which had nothing to do with morality, and which could be averted by taking the proper technological precautions.

Up until now, I assumed that this midrash was mere homiletics, having nothing to do with historical fact. After all, how could Chazal know what the Dor Ha'Haflagah really thought? This year, however, I discovered that there really were people who believed this about the Mabul! I’m currently in the middle of reading Rabbi on the Ganges: A Jewish-Hindu Encounter, by Rabbi Dr. Alan Brill. The author summarizes the Hindu-Indian account of the Mabul, as recorded in the Puranas, a sacred text which was written down during the Gupta era (350-550 CE):

The Puranas present many related versions of the flood story, which all bear an uncanny resemblance to the biblical flood story. All of these accounts agree that the flood story’s protagonist is a man named Manu. Like Noah, Manu is described as a virtuous individual “who, by penances and prayers, had won the favor of the lord of heaven” (Shatapatha Brahmana I:8 Matsya Purana). Both Manu and Noah had three sons before the flood – Charma, Sharma, and Yapeti, and Ham, Shem, and Japheth, respectively. In Genesis, the cause of humanity’s destruction is that the “wickedness of man was great in the earth” (ch 6). In the story of Manu, however, the destruction of the world was part of the natural order of things, rather than as a divine punishment. (p.112)

Apparently, the cyclical flood theory wasn’t merely a didactic element of a midrashic fiction, but was a real belief held by actual human beings! Let us compare the response of the Dor Ha’Haflagah as described by the midrash with the Hindu response described in the Puranas. Chazal rightly condemn the Dor Ha’Haflagah for their denial of the true cause of the Mabul. They knew what Noach had told them based on nevuah and rejected it anyway. In contrast, the Hindus didn’t have access to a living navi to frame the event from a true Divine perspective. Where does that leave us today? We also don’t have a living navi. How should we respond to a cyclical natural disaster?

The answer lies in the Rambam’s codification (Hilchos Taaniyos 1:1-3) of the Jewish response to tzarah (catastrophe):

It is a positive mitzvah of the Torah to cry out and to sound the trumpets on every tzarah that befalls the community … such as drought, epidemic, locusts, and the like … This principle is one of the darchei teshuvah (ways of repentance), that at a time of the onset of an affliction, when the [people] cry out and sound the trumpets, everyone will know that it was because of their evil conduct that this bad occurrence befell them … But if they do not cry out and do not sound the trumpets, but instead say, “This is minhago shel olam (a natural event) which befell us, and this affliction is a mikreh (chance occurrence)” - behold, this is a derech achzarius (way of cruelty) and will cause them to cling to their evil conduct, and [this] affliction and others will increase.

The Rambam doesn’t differentiate between cyclical and non-cyclical catastrophes. Apparently, it doesn’t matter whether the tzarah follows a natural cycle or not. What matters is whether we respond to it by doing teshuvah or whether we dismiss it as “the way of the world” and persist in our behavior. Every tzarah ought to prompt us to engage in teshuvah, no matter what the cause or frequency. In this framework, even if the Mabul were a cyclical disaster – as believed by the Dor Ha'Haflagah and the Hindus – it wouldn’t make a difference. Even without access to a navi today, we can know with 100% certainty that the correct response to any tzarah is teshuvah.

___________________________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you. 

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Shemini Atzeres 5781: The Festival of Holding On

 Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article.

Artwork: Secluded Steppe, by Noah Bradley

Shemini Atzeres 5781: The Festival of Holding On

The thematic identity of Shemini Atzeres is obscure for a number of reasons, among them: 

(1) “Shemini” (“eighth”) indicates that this is the eighth day of the seven-day Chag ha’Sukkos, and would therefore share in its themes. This supposition is reinforced by the fact that we refer to both moadim (holidays) as “zman simchaseinu” (“the time of our rejoicing”). Halachically, however, Shemini Atzeres is regarded as a chag bifnei atzmo (its own independent festival), which suggests – or at least leaves open the possibility – that it has its own thematic identity, separate from that of Sukkos. 

(2) The word “Atzeres” is subject to a number of different translations, including “assembly,”[1] “detainment,”[2] “refraining,”[3] “lordship”[4] and more. Unlike “Pesach” and “Sukkos,” it is difficult to deduce the theme of this holiday from its name.

(3) This problem is compounded by the fact that the seventh day of Pesach is also called “Atzeres” in the Torah. What relationship does it have to Shemini Atzeres, if any? [5]

(4) The other Regalim (Pilgrimage Festivals) each have their own mitzvos which reflect their themes. In contrast, Shemini Atzeres has no special mitzvos associated with its observance.

(5) There are few clues provided in the text of the Written Torah to help us figure out what it is that we are celebrating, other than the cryptic, “It shall be an atzeres for you” (Vayikra 23:36).

In his commentary on that phrase, Rashi [6] offers an explanation based on a midrash [7]:

“it is an atzeres” (lit. “a holding-back”) [means] “I have held you back with Me,” like a king who invited his children to a [festive] meal for a certain number of days, and when it was time for them to depart, he said, “My children, please stay with me one more day, for our parting is difficult for me.”

It would appear that Rashi is doing more than just weighing in on the translation of “atzeres” as “a holding-back.” It would seem that the midrash he cites sheds light on the theme of Shemini Atzeres, namely, that it represents an effort on the part of Hashem to “hold back” His children (as it were), because He finds our departure difficult. Obviously, this is intended to be understood allegorically. The question is: What is the meaning of the allegory?

Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg [8] cites Rashi and explains the import of the allegory:

In this manner we can also say that from our perspective the last Yom Tov of Pesach and of Sukkos are called “atzeres,” meaning “being held back,” [referring to] the difficulty of separation on account of all the precious lessons we have acquired in our souls through Hashem’s moadim and the preparation for sanctity that we have attained through them – because it is only for this reason that they are called “Mikraei Kodesh,” as we have explained above. [We ask that these lessons] be “held back” with us, and remain with us even after the conclusion of the festival, and regarding these spiritual lessons which we have internalized over the days of the festival, that we not abandon them when the moed ends. 

According to Rav Mecklenburg, Hashem’s reluctance to part ways with His children is a metaphor for our reluctance to part ways with the moadim, and all the lessons and sanctity we have gained through their observance, for it is these perfections that have brought us “close” to Hashem during these designated times of sanctity.

Strictly speaking, the cycle of moadim should end with Hoshana Rabbah, the last day of chol ha’moed Sukkos. If that were the case, however, we would be at risk of returning to our normal non-Moadim life and losing all of the gains we had made along the way. 

To counteract this eventuality, Hashem established the “extra” moed of Shemini Atzeres – endowed with its own kedushah (sanctity), but without its own mitzvos or independent themes – as an opportunity to reflect on the insights we have gleaned over the course of all the moadim, and to face the fact that unless we take care to “hold on” to what we have gained, we will be in danger of slipping back into the same mindset and habits we had before being enlightened and transformed by the moadim. 

At the end of his comments here Rav Mecklenburg refers the reader to his commentary on Parashas Pinchas [9] where he elaborates on the purpose of the moadim in general and the connection to the role of Shemini Atzeres:

According to all of the explanations [listed above] it is necessary to clarify why the Torah singles out the last day [of Pesach and Sukkos] by the name “atzeres.” [The answer,] it seems, is that the Torah nicknamed it this in order to teach us something of tremendous benefit, namely, that since people’s desires for temporal acquisitions are very powerful, and the labor for them weighs heavily upon them, and the more one increases them the more he diminishes eternal acquisitions, therefore it was the goal of the God-given Torah to free people from this great servitude which has no benefit and to exchange it for the kabbalas malchus shamayim (the acceptance of heavenly kingship). [10]

For this reason [the Torah] established the Moadei Hashem which, according to their straightforward objective, is to provide us with a great motivation not to be excessively involved in transitory possessions, but only to the extent that is necessary, and to only strive to acquire them except insofar as we need, and only in accordance with the avodah commanded in the God-given Torah, in order to give our souls success in the eternal world. 

For this reason they are called “Moadei Hashem,” meaning “designated times for godly matters,” far removed from the various types of striving for temporal possessions. These times designated exclusively for avodas Hashem (divine service) will make a great impression upon our souls, enabling us to acquire a firm disposition to reject excess worldly possessions in order that our striving after them during the days of the week will not be for their own sake, but for the benefit which results from them in attaining the true and eternal purpose. 

Therefore these moadim are also called by the name “Mikraei Kodesh” (lit. “Holy Convocations”) the intent of which – as we explained in Emor – is [to convey] “preparation and readying for sanctity,” in reference to the precious lessons that are alluded to [in the Moadim] in order to motivate us to separate ourselves from the excesses of this world and from striving after temporal possessions; our preparedness for sanctity in the moadei Hashem will serve as a great [precautionary] fence and a universal remedy for the time period which follows after the moed, when we return to matters of material involvement, so that we don’t deviate through them from the path that is proper for an elevated person, and that we direct all of our activities and movements exclusively towards a sublime purpose, to the extent that our necessary involvement in This World for our material bodies is only in order to draw its existence towards the true perfection of serving its Creator, or to that which is instrumental in His service. 

In order [to ensure] that this desirable purpose remains after the festival is over, clinging to holy thoughts that we have acquired during the days of the moed, without distancing them from our souls upon the completion of the moed, but they should be “held back” with us with all the powers of our souls for the upcoming time period – it is for this reason the last day of Pesach and Sukkos is called by the name “atzeres” (the “Festival of Holding On” [11]), that is to say, a day on which we strengthen ourselves with all of our might to seize with our souls the precious lessons we have internalized for all the days of the festival, and to not abandon them with the conclusion of the festival, but to retain them with us and to bring the preparedness for sanctity of the days of the festival from potentiality to actuality in the days of work that will follow after the festival.

According to Rav Mecklenberg, the general purpose of the Moadim – aside from the specific themes of each moed – is to properly frame our involvement in material acquisitions, recognizing that these possessions are only temporary, and that the more we strive after them, the more we forfeit our true success, which is eternal. The six-month period of time after the cycle of moadim, from the end of Tishrei until the middle of Nisan, poses a unique threat. During this time we are exclusively occupied with the day-to-day labor of acquiring our material needs. There is a real danger that the impact of the Moadim will wear off. To counteract this we were given the final chag of Shemini Atzeres to ready ourselves for the metaphysical winter that will soon follow. [12]

I think it’s safe to say for most (if not all) of us, the cycle of moadim this year – the year of COVID-19 – has resulted in a unique set of transformational insights. Our Pesach, our Shavuos, and our Sukkos this year have been different from all other years. [13] At each point along the way, we have experienced highs and lows. We have learned things about each other and about ourselves, as individuals, as a nation, and as a species. The insights generated by the plague have intermingled with the insights embedded in the moadim and their mitzvos, resulting in new perspectives that might otherwise never have been brought to mind. And the winter we will soon face may be one of the darkest in our lifetimes. 

On this Shemini Atzeres, the “Festival of Holding On,” we will have the opportunity to contemplate the personal growth we have undergone in these past seven months and to ready ourselves for the months to follow. This will be a Yom Tov, a time to have simchah (joy) in our material and metaphysical portion. But as Shlomo ha’Melech said, “let him rejoice in all of them, but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many” (Koheles 11:8). We must not content ourselves with the illusion that the clarity we have gained from the moadim of the year of COVID-19 will remain with us. If we wish to retain what our souls have acquired, then it is in our best interest to use this final chag to reflect, to mobilize, and to strategize ways to hold on to this year’s life lessons. Because if not now, then when? When we are in the throes of this coming year, with all its uncertainties? “Give portions to seven, and also to eight, for you never know what calamity will strike the land” (Koheles 11:2). Do not content yourself with having made progress through these past seven months. Secure what you have gained by using Atzeres of the Eighth for its intended purpose, for you never know what this year may bring. 

I wish us all a chag sameach – one through which we may hold on to what we have gained this year.

End Notes

[1] cited but rejected by Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:36 

[2] Rav Ovadiah Sforno, Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:36 

[3] Rabbeinu Shmuel ben Meir (Rashbam), Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:36 

[4] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:36 

[5] Shavuos is also called “Atzeres,” but only by the Rabbis – not in the Torah itself. 

[6]  Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:36 

[7] This midrash is supposedly from Vayikra Rabbah, but I couldn’t seem to track it down. 

[8]  Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg, Ha’Kesav ve’ha’Kabbalah on Sefer Vayikra 23:36 

[9]  ibid. Sefer Bamidbar 29:35, with my own paragraph breaks for clarity 

[10] I cannot help but associate to one of my favorite of Thoreau’s quips in Walden: “As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.” 

[11] This was our best guess at Rav Mecklenburg’s Hebrew-transliterated-into-German phrase אנהאלטספעסט"." 

[12] According to this explanation, why is the seventh day of Pesach also called “Atzeres” when it will not be followed by such a long period of non-kedushah? Perhaps because Pesach is the beginning of the harvest season – a time when we will be preoccupied with material success in a different way. There is a danger that all of the spiritual growth we underwent as a result of the Chag ha’Matzos will be overridden by the stresses and exertions of the harvest season. Although not as great of a threat as the long winter, it is enough that the Torah had to establish an Atzeres specific to the Chag ha’Matzos. 

[13] Rabbinically speaking, the themes of Pesach begin a month earlier, at Purim – and we certainly remember how Purim this year was the real turning point in our lives.

Shoftim: Atonement for the Dead (Part 1 of 2)

This is half of a blog post. I wasn't able to finish writing the full blog post in time, and I figured it would be better to publish half of it than allow it to languish in my drafts folder for who knows how long. 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this half-article.

Artwork: Rest in Peace, by Jarel Threat

Shoftim: Atonement for the Dead (Part 1 of 2)

Parashas Shoftim concludes with the mystifying mitzvah of Eglah Arufah (the Decapitated Heifer). When the corpse of a slain person is found outside of a nearby city, the elders and judges of that city perform a ritual involving an uncharacteristically gruesome slaughter of a heifer. The ceremony concludes with a declaration and petition made by the Kohanim: 

“Our hands did not shed this blood, and our eyes did not see. Atone for Your people Israel whom You redeemed, Hashem, and do not put innocent blood in the midst of Your people Israel, and let the blood be atoned for them.” (Devarim 21:6-8) 

The question is: Why does the pasuk (verse) say “atone for Your people Israel whom You redeemed” rather than “atone for Your people Israel” full stop? The Sifre [1] answers: 

“atone for Your people” – these are the living; “whom You redeemed” – these are the dead, which teaches that the dead need kaparah (atonement); consequently we learn that one who sheds blood sins [retroactively] until the Exodus from Egypt. 

Although the Sifre explains the apparent redundancy in the pasuk, it raises a number of additional problems: 

1. Why is this act of murder reckoned as a sin for the Yotzei Mitzrayim (the generation that left Egypt), such that they would require kaparah? The person who committed the murder certainly sinned. The elders and judges of the nearby city sinned, insofar as they didn’t do their part as leaders to foster a society in which such murders don’t happen. But how is this considered to be a sin for the generation that left Egypt hundreds or thousands of years ago? They didn’t do anything! Why do they need kaparah? 

2. How is it fair to hold anyone responsible for a sin they didn’t commit? According to the Rambam [2], the eleventh of the Thirteen Fundamental Principles of Torah is that Hashem rewards each person for the mitzvos they have done and punishes each person for the transgressions they have committed. Hashem does not reward people for doing mitzvos that they didn’t do, nor does He punish people for transgressions they didn’t commit. The Yotzei Mitzraim lived their own lives, and had their own mitzvos and sins. Ostensibly, it would be unjust to hold them accountable for the sins of their offspring. As Avraham Avinu asked: “Heaven forfend doing something like this! … Will the judge of all the earth not enact justice?” (Bereishis 18:25). 

3. How is it halachically possible for the dead to receive kaparah? The Gemara (Zevachim 9b) openly states “there is no kaparah for the dead” and the Rambam [3] rules in accordance with this view. Rashi [4] explains that “there is no kaparah for the dead because their death atoned for them.” In other words, there is no kaparah for the dead because the dead don’t need kaparah. The Baalei Tosafos [5] point out the halachic ramifications: if it were possible for the dead to receive kaparah, their surviving relatives would be responsible for bringing a korban (sacrifice) to atone on their behalf. Likewise, if a person designated a korban as a sin-offering and then died, then there would be even more of a reason for his relatives to offer it in order to bring about post-mortem kaparah. These sources indicate that kaparah for the dead is a halachic impossibility. [6]

4. How is it metaphysically possible for the dead to receive kaparah? Once a person dies, and their soul separates from their body, it is impossible for the soul to undergo further change, for good or for bad. This is why Chazal urge us to do mitzvos and teshuvah in Olam ha’Zeh (This World), since there’s no way to elevate the soul after death, as the Rambam [7] states: “for if one does not acquire wisdom and good deeds here, then he will have nothing by which he merits.” On the basis of this principle, the Ran questions the entire notion of punishments in Olam ha’Ba. At the beginning of his tenth derashah the Ran [8] sets forth the premise that all of Hashem’s punishments in Olam ha’Zeh are for our benefit, “either to improve the sinner himself so that he does teshuvah from his evil path” or “to improve others, so they will not be evil like him.” He then raises the question about Olam ha’Ba: “it is impossible for the punishments of Olam ha’Ba to be like this, since the soul cannot be improved there; rather, it will forever remain in the state it was in when it left the body.” If that is the case, then how would it be possible for someone to receive kaparah after death? Moreover, how would it be possible for the sin of the slain victim to necessitate kaparah for the soul of a dead person? 

I have an approach but I haven't fully worked it out yet. Let me know if you think of anything!

End Notes

[1] Sifre Devarim: Piska 210; as usual I’ve chosen to translate the version cited by the Torah Temimah 

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah: Sanhedrin, Introduction to to Perek Chelek 

[3] see Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Avodah, Hilchos Psulei ha’Mukdashim 15:9 

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Talmud Bavli: Me’ilah 10b 

[5] Tosafos, Temurah 15b 

[6] Over the course of my research I did encounter some arguments which attempted to reconcile the implications of the Sifre with these halachos, but I found them to be contrived and didn’t think they warrant being addressed here. If you do find a compelling argument, I would love to hear it. 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 9:1

[8] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven (Ran), Drashos ha'Ran: Drashah #10

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article.

Disclaimer: this article is not intended to reflect any particular political stance on Israeli policy. 

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough 

Many Jews feel that we are entitled to take possession of the Land of Israel because it was promised to the Avos (i.e. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov) as an inheritance to their offspring (i.e. us). While this is true, it is only half of the truth. The mere fact that the Land of Israel was promised to the Avos is not, in and of itself, a sufficient reason to justify our conquest of it. There is another consideration which is explicitly stated in the contract made by Hashem when He promised Avraham the Land. 

But let us start with our parashah. Much of Parashas Devarim is a recap of Bnei Yisrael’s journey through the Wilderness. Chapter 1 recounts the first part of the journey, from Sinai until the Sin of the Spies. Chapter 2 skips ahead 39 years to the events that were detailed at end of Sefer Bamidbar, as Bnei Yisrael began their conquest of the nations that lived in and around Israel. Moshe Rabbeinu recalls Hashem’s instructions regarding our interactions with these nations, beginning with the children of Eisav who occupied the land of Seir: 

Hashem said to me, saying … “You shall command the people, saying: ‘You are passing through the boundary of your brothers, the children of Eisav, who dwell in Seir; they will fear you, but you should be very careful. You shall not provoke them, for I shall not give you of their land even the right to set foot, for I have given Mount Seir as an inheritance to the children of Eisav.” (Devarim 2:2-5) 

Next, Moshe recounts a similar set of instructions regarding the Moabites and their land: 

Hashem said to me: “You shall not distress Moav and you shall not provoke war with them, for I shall not give you an inheritance from their land, for the children of Lote have I given Ar as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:9) 

Likewise, regarding the Ammonites and their land: 

Hashem spoke to me, saying: “This day you shall cross the border of Moav, at Ar, and you shall approach opposite the children of Ammon; you shall not distress them and you shall not provoke them, for I shall not give any of the land of the children of Ammon to you as an inheritance, for to the children of Lote have I given it as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:17-19) 

Finally Bnei Yisrael reach a people and a land that they are commanded to conquer: 

“Rise up and cross Amon Brook; see! Into your hand have I delivered Sichon, king of Cheshbone, the Amorite, and his land; begin to possess it, and provoke war with him. This day I shall begin to place dread and fear of you on the peoples under the entire heaven, when they hear of your reputation, and they will tremble and be anxious before you.” (ibid. 2:24-25) 

At first glance one might think that Bnei Yisrael were enjoined to conquer Sichon’s land because, unlike the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the land of the Amorites had not been apportioned to them as an inheritance, and was therefore “free” for the taking. The Ralbag [1] dispels this notion: 

Our inheritance of the Land [of Israel] requires two conditions: one is the merit of the Jews, and the second is the wickedness of those nations, that their iniquity must be “full,” as we explained regarding the statement: “for the iniquity [2] of the Amorite is not full” (Bereishis 15:16).

The Ralbag is referring to the condition explicitly stated by Hashem in the Bris Bein ha’Besarim (The Covenant Between the Parts) when He promised to Avraham that his descendants would return to inherit the Land of Israel four generations after their sojourn in Egypt: 

And He said to Avram: “Know with certainty that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own, and they will serve them, and they will oppress them for four hundred years. But also the nation that they will serve I shall judge, and afterwards they will leave with great wealth. As for you: you shall come to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And the fourth generation shall return here, for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.”

The Chazkuni [3] understands this last clause to be an answer to a question that Avraham might have asked: “Why will my offspring need to wait for four generations to inherit the Land? Why can’t they inherit the Land immediately?” The answer is “for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.” Rashi [4] explains the meaning of this stipulation: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full [enough] to cast them out of their land until that time, because Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu does not punish a nation until its measure is full, as it is said, “according to her measure He contends with her” (Yeshayahu 27:8).

The Radak [5] elaborates: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then – [this means that] the time for the punishment for the iniquity of the Amorite will not yet have arrived, for Hashem (blessed is He) prolongs His anger for the wicked, and there is a set time for everyone: there are some whom He punishes immediately, and others for whom He delays [punishment] for a long time – all in accordance with His wisdom. [In this pasuk] He tells [Avram]: “for the time of the Amorite’s [6] punishment has not yet been completed.”

Indeed, the Ramban [7] goes so far as to posit that this was one of Avraham’s concerns which prompted the Bris bein ha’Besarim in the first place. After initially being told by Hashem: “I am Hashem Who brought you out of Ur-Kasdim to give you this land to inherit it” (Bereishis 15:7), Avram asks: “My Lord, Hashem-Elokim, whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” (ibid. 15:8). It is impossible to say that Avram’s question stemmed from a lack of trust in Hashem, since we were told two pesukim earlier: “And he trust in Hashem, and He reckoned it to him as righteousness” (ibid. 15:6). What, then, was the basis of Avram’s question? Ramban answers: 

But Avraham wanted to know with a true knowledge that he would inherit it, and that his sin or the sin of his offspring wouldn’t cause [the promise to not be fulfilled], or perhaps the Canaanites would do teshuvah and [that which was written] would be fulfilled in them: “One moment I may speak concerning a nation or a kingdom, to destroy, demolish, or annihilate [it], but if that nation repents of its evil deed of which I had spoken, then I relent of the harm that I had planned to carry out against it” (Yirmiyahu 18:7).

In other words, Avram asked Hashem, “whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” because he was worried about three things: (1) his own sins would cause him to lose the merit by which Hashem’s promise would be fulfilled, (2) the sins of his offspring would cause them to lose the merit by which they would inherit the land, or (3) the Seven Canaanite nations currently occupying the land would do teshuvah, thereby making it impossible for Hashem to give the land to Avraham’s descendants, since it would be unjust to kick a righteous nation out of their land, even in order to give it to someone as deserving as Avraham! Ultimately, Hashem made the Bris Bein ha’Besarim to allay Avraham’s fears [8], but we see from the Ramban’s interpretation of Avraham’s concerns how powerful this principle of Divine justice is! 

The Ralbag invokes this Divine justice to explain why Bnei Yisrael were warned not to wage war with the children of Eisav, Moav, and Amon: 

For this reason you will find that the Torah warned [Bnei Yisrael] not to provoke war with the Children of Eisav, nor with the Children of Ammon and Moav, since He didn’t give them their land as an inheritance, because even though the members of these nations were wicked, their iniquity was not yet “full” [such that they deserved to be driven out of their land and deprived of their inheritance]. However, the iniquity of the Amorite was full, and it is for this reason that they dispossessed Sichon and Og [from their land].

In other words, although the pesukim made it seem that Hashem absolutely forbade Bnei Yisrael to take the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the Ralbag learns that this was only because “their iniquity was not yet full.” The implication is that if their iniquity had been full, they would have suffered the same fate as the Amorites, despite having been given their land as an inheritance. 

All of this may seem like ancient history, but I believe that the principle of Divine justice reflected in these pesukim has a significant bearing on our present situation, if not in how we relate to the current non-Jewish occupants of the Land of Israel, than at least in how we view our God-given right to dispossess them. 

As I mentioned at the outset of this post, it is easy to feel that we, as the descendants of the Avos, have an absolute right to take our Land back from those who dwell there. But as we have seen, even after Hashem promised the Land to Avraham, He was still not willing to drive out Amorites and the other Canaanite nations immediately. Only when “their iniquity was full” would they deserve to be kicked out. Only at that point would we be right to claim what He gave us. To displace these nations before their iniquity is full would be unjust. 

Tishah b’Av is next week. We are deep within the period of time when we, as Jews, reflect on the fact that we were exiled from our Land by our enemies. Even today, when the State of Israel exists, we bemoan the fact that we are still in exile, insofar as our Land is occupied by the nations of the world, and Israel is not under Jewish sovereignty. It is easy for us to look at the current occupants of our home and feel that we’re just entitled to kick them out and reclaim what is ours, without considering our own merit or the injustice of driving out another nation. 

When we think about the complicated situation in Israel today, let us remember the two criteria required to take back our land: we must become righteous enough to deserve it, and those we dispossess from their homes must be wicked enough to deserve their fate. 

End Notes

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Devarim, Chapter 2: Toeles #13 

[2] In his actual commentary on Bereishis 15:16 the Ralbag translates “avon” as “punishment” rather than “iniquity,” but I’ve translated it as “iniquity” here to keep the terms consistent with the other meforshim I’ll be citing. 

[3] Rabbeinu Chezkia ben Manoach (Chazkuni), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[5] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[6] Many of the meforshim, including the Radak, explain that what is said of the Amorite applies to the other six Canaanite Nations as well, and that the Amorite is singled out because they were the most powerful. 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 

[8] How, exactly, the Bris Bein ha’Besarim accomplished this is the subject of another article yet to be written.