Parashat Re'eh: Worshipping Gods You Didn't Know vs. Just Not Worshipping Other Gods

Boker tov and chodesh tov and Shabbat shalom. It's me, again, with another look at the weekly Torah portion from my favorite place in Jerusalem: the shuk!

This week's parashah is Re'eh (Devarim 11:26-16:17), and it's chock full of blessings and curses we've all heard before. But one thing I've noticed though is the repetition of a phrase: 

(singular you) אֱלֹהִ֣ים אֲחֵרִ֔ים אֲשֶׁר֙ לֹ֣א יָדַ֔עְתָּ

 (plural you) אֱלֹהִ֥ים אֲחֵרִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹא־יְדַעְתֶּֽם

Gods who you didn't know/haven't experienced

This phrase is used again and again in requests to not listen to others who try and pull you into worshipping "gods you didn't know." The dangers around worshiping "gods you didn't know" or "gods you didn't experience before." All usages are past tense, as well. 

This line appears in Devarim 11:28, 13:3, 13:7, and 13:14.

My immediate thought here is ... does this mean we can worship gods that are new to us? So no idols of Avraham's father but yes to all the others?

Why not just say clearly and definitively, "Don't worship other gods"? Period. Full stop. 

Why the "lo yadata" and "lo yadatem" ... that you didn't know? 

Let's say that the idea here is that the Israelites are supposed to focus on the Gd they do know rather than gods they didn't or don't know. This may be the point of the language because the whole of Sefer Devarim is one big reminder of all the things HaShem did for the Israelites. There is one Gd, HaShem, and He's the end-all, be-all. 

I took you out of Egypt! 

I fed you manna!

I kept you! 

I'm giving you this land!

I promised you'd be numerous as the stars in the sky! 

Look at all I did for you! 

You know me. You didn't know them. You don't know them. 

Maybe? 

It still doesn't sit well with me. There's something uncomfortable about this line that I just don't like or love. Something uncertain and unnecessary. 

What do you think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Parashat Eikev: Are Jews really better than everyone else?

Happy Friday! I am happy to say these words are coming to you from the comfort of Machane Yehuda, aka the shuk, in Jerusalem, Israel, Planet Earth. Let's dive in. 

This week's Torah portion (aka parashah) is Eikev, which I've written about quite a few times before (including here and here). There are so many compelling events in this week's portion! This portion comprises Devarim/Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25 and includes Moshe's final words to the Israelites and retells the infamous story of the Golden Calf. 

Are the Jews better than everyone else? 

It also includes a verse often cited as troublesome for how the world thinks Jews understand themselves in the expanse of humanity. In Deut. 7:14, the Torah says

ברוך תהיה מכל העמים

Baruch t'hiyeh m'kol ha'amim. 

This often translates as "You will be blessed above all people." This is just one of the places where the antiSemitic trope that Jews believe they're better than everyone else comes from. But that's a mistranslation. There is so much nuance with translation, and this translation misses the mark. The Hebrew uses a mem (מ), which means "from" not "above." Mem is a comparative preposition, and when you compare two things, you're setting them apart from one another. 

The better translation here is "You will be blessed when compared to all people." It's an indicator of a different status of blessing, not a status of being above or better than others. And it makes sense. Jews are viewed by the world as distinct, separate from. Even the most non-religious Jews are still considered as different and separate. This was the blessing from HaShem. 

You can embrace that blessing of difference and celebrate it or view it as a negative and something to fight or battle against. 

What's the deal with the different versions of the Golden Calf story?

Later, the parashah retells the sin of the Golden Calf but changes up a major portion of the story, which makes me wonder. If you recall, the scene here is that Moshe went up on the mount to get the Torah from HaShem. He was gone "too long" for the people, so they panicked and fell back on their old "we need an intermediary to check in with HaShem and see what's doing with Moshe" ways. Thus, they built a calf (not to worship, but to serve as an intermediary to their Gd). 

In Deut. 9:21, Moshe says:

"As for that sinful thing you had made, the calf, I took it and put it to the fire; I broke it to bits and ground it thoroughly until it was fine as dust, and I threw its dust into the brook that comes down from the mountain."

But in the original incident in Exodus 32:20, it says:

"He took the calf that they had made and burned it; he ground it to powder and strewed it upon the water and so made the Israelites drink it."

What's missing? The people drinking the water, of course. Why isn't this brought up in this week's portion? 

Ramban says it's because Moshe didn't want to humiliate them, but that doesn't seem to track. This entire portion is an extensive reminder of how the Israelites screwed up. Ramban also says he doesn't want to tell the people because he doesn't want them to know that he did to them what is done to wives accused of adultery. After all, Israel did cheat on HaShem, right? Sort of, anyway.

Okay, stop. Wait. What? Yes, when a woman is accused of adultery, she's forced to let down her hair and drink some sketchy water. In Numbers 5:17:

"And the priest shall take holy water in an earthen vessel; and of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle the priest shall take, and put it into the water."

So is what Moshe did in Exodus and what happened to an accused adulteress the same thing? The former involves burning something and putting the ashes into water. The latter involves some dust from the floor, which could be some ash mixed in with general dirt. The Hebrew word is the same in Deuteronomy and Numbers, but the version in Exodus doesn't use the word for dust/dirt or ash. But the two don't appear to be the same. Even if the ash on the tabernacle floor was from a sacrifice, those sacrifices are out of holiness. The burning of the calf has nothing to do with anything holy. 

All of that to say I don't buy the Ramban's perspective here. But when something in one place in the Torah doesn't match something in another place in the Torah, we have to explain it, right? 

The reality here is that the drinking that is explicitly called out in Exodus is merely implied in Deuteronomy. One can safely assume that there was a single source of water where the Israelites were camped. When Moshe says, "I threw its dust into the brook that comes down from the mountain" the implication is that the people were drinking out of this brook whether they wanted to or not. 

And that concludes this week's thoughts on Eikev. There are a bunch of other interesting sections in this portion, including gobs of talk about conquering and possessing the land, but I've covered that in previous years pretty thoroughly. Until next week ... Shabbat Shalom!

On the Backs of Women: Sheli v'shelechem shelah hu.

New favorite quote/piece of Torah?

My Torah knowledge and yours is actually hers.
Sheli v'shelechem shelah hu.
שלי ושלכם שלה הוא

The whole of the story goes like this about Rabbi Akiva and his wife Rachel:

He went back and sat for another twelve years in the study hall. When he came back he brought twenty-four thousand students with him. His wife heard and went out toward him to greet him. Her neighbors said: Borrow some clothes and wear them, as your current apparel is not appropriate to meet an important person. She said to them: “A righteous man understands the life of his beast” (Proverbs 12:10). When she came to him she fell on her face and kissed his feet. His attendants pushed her away as they did not know who she was, and he said to them: Leave her alone, as my Torah knowledge and yours is actually hers.

I read this in Eishes Chayil, and it came at the culmination of the book in explaining the culmination of what it means to be an Eishes Chayil. All that you do for your children and your husband and family and community, from dawn until dusk, working, and providing, and tidying, and everything else you do to allow those you love to become their best, most amazing selves, all comes back to the Eishes Chayil. 

The world is built on the backs and strength of women, of wives, of mothers. And that is quite the responsibility and point of pride. 

I'm gearing up to write a longer review of the book for publication, and I've got so many highlights, so many questions, so many thoughts. Stay tuned, it's coming!

Book Review: G-d versus gods by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein

Sometimes, it's just easier to do things in a video. Check out my review of Rabbi Klein's newest book G-d versus gods: Judaism in the Age of Idolatry, out now from Mosaica Press!


Get your copy on Amazon or Mosaica Press. 

Book Review: Letters to President Clinton

I am seriously backlogged on book reviews at the moment (all the books read and merely waiting for me to share my two cents) thanks to a bundle of joy that is ever-so attached to his mommy at all times. I really should get better at voice-to-text, but the reality is that the way that I write and the way that I speak are two very different animals. So here we go!

The kind folks over at Sterling Publishing reached out to me with Letters to President Clinton: Biblical Lessons on Faith and Leadership, which (you guessed it) is a book chock full of fascinating and insightful thoughts in the form of letters to President Clinton. The president wrote the foreword to the book, and it was edited by Rabbi Menachem Genack.

Rabbi Genack and President Clinton became acquainted in 1992 in New Jersey, and their friendship has remained strong since then. The book highlights their communications, but also letters that Rabbi Genack requested from friends and colleagues on special topics for the president. Although not in any kind of date-sequential order, the book's communications come from President Clinton's second term and after and its lessons are divided among Leadership, Sin and Repentance, Creation, Community, Faith, Dreams and Vision, and Holidays. With some of the letters there are responses from President Clinton about the essay (and the responses are included in the book in image form, so you can see that it's written on President Clinton's letterhead!).

The great thing about this book is that you can easily hop around from gleaning to gleaning without reading the book straight from start to finish. In fact, I wouldn't necessarily recommend reading this from cover to cover. With authors like Norman Lamm, Adin Steinsaltz, Nahum Sarna, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, Cynthia Ozick, and Joseph Telushkin, you might want to find an author that you love and dig into a letter they've written to President Clinton.

One thing this book does well is creates an accessibility to Jewish and non-Jewish readers alike. With President Clinton being a Southern Baptist, most of the essays are accessible on a cross-denominational level. Translations of Bible verses come from President Clinton's preferred mode of bible and the authors build lessons that are universal in their nature. It really is a book for leaders of every generation.

The only off-putting aspect of this book that I ran into, oddly enough, was a very awkward preface written by Rabbi Sacks. I tend to love just about everything that Rabbi Sacks writes and does, but this preface was forced, uncomfortable, and referenced his own books and work at random intervals. It was like he was less interested in talking about the topic and more interested in selling his own books and philosophies on American Judaism and how it is shockingly different than English Judaism.

Have you read this book yet? Sound like something up your alley? Let me know what you think!

Niddah and Childbirth

Something I've been thinking about over the expanse of this pregnancy is what happens after the pregnancy. Yes, there will be a baby and chaos and madness and a lack of sleep and insanity, but what happens between husband and wife?

Now, I'm not about to get personal on you here, but this is a topic that a lot of women in the religious Jewish community have to deal with, and I think it would be nice to have a quick, concise understanding of what happens once baby arrives. Also, I never thought I'd like being able to canoodle with my husband 24/7 without those monthly disturbances, but after being married one month and getting pregnant, I've been spoiled on the ability to always get a hug when I need it.

What is niddah? 

When a woman isn't pregnant or breastfeeding and her menstrual cycle is functioning as normal as one does, she goes through the ebb and flow of being a niddah. Contrary to popular belief, niddah doesn't mean "unclean" or "dirty," but rather "separate" or "moved" according to ritual impurity. Yes, the term impure is a pretty loaded term, but there are plenty of ways for men to become impure as well.

A woman is considered niddah after her menstrual cycle ends and she experiences seven clean days without bleeding and when the total of bleeding + clean days adds up to at least 12 days. Yes, that means most women will spend half the month and year in niddah, unable to do a variety of things like having sex with her spouse. There are differing opinions on the 12 days rule among different groups of Jews, and Yoatzot.org goes into some of those here.

Once the clean days have finished, a woman goes to mikvah (the ritual bath as its known) and dunks, and is once again back to normal life with her husband.

So what does this have to do with being pregnant and giving birth?

In the final stages of labor, a woman becomes a yoledet, which puts her in the same category as niddah. There are a ton of different aspects of the birthing process that complicate or intensify things like whether it's a natural birth or C-section, whether she's having a boy or a girl, and so on. But basically a woman becomes a yoledet and the rules of niddah take over. For a woman in the midst of birth, I can imagine, this can be a pretty emotionally rotten time for her husband to be completely hands off.

I'm struggling a little bit with this concept, especially because (in my mind) after you give birth or in those final moments you want your partner's hand to squeeze and a kiss after going through the crazy ordeal of bringing a miniature human into the world, but it's all hand's off because of niddah.

There are even many rabbis who have ruled that a husband shouldn't even be in the birthing room at the time of labor because of the laws of yoledet/niddah, which prohibit the husband from seeing his wife naked, let alone any other graphic things that go on in the birthing room. Luckily, Rav Moshe Feinstein has said that it's okay for the husband to be in the birthing room supporting his wife, but there's still a hands-off approach (Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah 2:75).

This might be one of the reasons that doulas are a popular addition to the Jewish birthing process, me thinks. Giving birth is such an all-sensory experience, I find it hard to imagine not sharing the physical side with Mr. T. No kiss? No hug? No job well done?

And, since you become a yoledet/niddah in labor, you have to go through the normal cycle as you would any other time. Once the bleeding after birth stops, you have to count seven clean days and visit the mikvah. Then you're back to that pre-baby pregnancy bliss of being able to canoodle your spouse whenever you like. Heck, squish that baby between your faces and smooch away!

At least that's how it works for some women. Your period can return anywhere between 11 weeks and 24 months after you give birth, depending on oodles of different factors. Some women start menstruating right away and can get pregnant immediately, others opt for birth control to regulate things and put off a baby a bit further. As all things with a woman's body go, it's a complete crapshoot.

It will be interesting post-birth to see how this all impacts me. I've never been a super touchy-feely person when it comes to significant others, but I've grown to enjoy the comfort of knowing there's a kiss or hug around the corner when I need it. Knowing that birth can do all sorts of wackadoodle things to your hormones has me in a bit of a stomach knot, because observing the laws of taharat ha'mishpacha means that you live within the confines of Torah and it doesn't bend to your will or want -- even when you think you need it.

On the other hand, it might be nice to get back into the mikvah-going mindset. Once-a-month getaways with some silence and relaxation to reconnect to myself, my body, and HaShem? Sounds divine. It really is a toss-up, and I only wish I could see the future.

What has been your experience with giving birth and being a yoledet? Was it difficult? How did you cope with being physically "alone" during such an intense time? 

Terumah: Just a Thought

Before we purchased this couch, we invested in Torah.

This week's parshah (Torah portion) is Terumah, in which HaShem commands us to build the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary and dwelling place, as the Israelites travel through the desert. The Mishkan became the Holy Temple, and after the Second Temple fell in 70 CE, the Jewish home became the central dwelling place for HaShem.

Driving down any street where new construction is going up you'll see the shells of homes under construction. We start with the bones of a building and construct it inward, with the knickknacks, drapes, color combinations, bookshelves, and family photos all coming in at the end stages of construction.

In this week's parshah, however, we see that the first aspect of construction was the ark -- the resting place of Torah -- and then come the various vessels, the walls, and finally the framework.

What does it all mean? Why do we build our homes hafuch? (That's the name of a popular take on coffee in Israel, which just means upside down or inside out.)

When we build a home, we must place Torah at the center of everything before we begin to build anything else. Before we pick out towel colors or bathroom mats, before we pick out a couch or decide on plate patterns, Torah must have been placed at the center of the relationship.

If anything, Mr. T and I placed Torah on the ground floor of our relationship before building or exploring the everyday, seemingly monotonous aspects of our future together. Can you imagine first dates talking seriously and passionately about tzedakah and minhagim (traditions)? With a Torah-based marriage, you're setting yourself up for a dwelling place for the shechinah (the presence of HaShem). Until the Holy Temple is rebuilt, the Jewish home is the best and most important way we can express our dedication to HaShem, Am Yisrael, and, ultimately, each other.

So, what do you think about it?

Parshat Re'eh: To State or Not to State

On Thursday I had the pleasure of talking about this week's parshah in our weekly Stand Up staff meeting. This is the quick and dirty of what I talked about, and I hope it gives you some serious food for thought.

First, I offered up a quick summary of what is offered up in parshat Re'eh:

• Blessings & curses (shout it from the mountains!)
• But what about bechira hofshi (free will)? Rabbi Akiva in Avot 3:19 said, “Though everything is foreseen by G-d, yet free will is granted to man.” 
• Re’eh is singular -- "You see" -- putting emphasis on the individual.
• Rules for living in Eretz Yisrael (centralized worship)
• One note: When in mourning, you cannot physically harm yourself. 
• Don't become a Canaanite (false prophets and idols are not cool)
• Review of kashrut (you heard them at Sinai, so hear them again)
• Tithing (that's 10 percent of one's annual produce)
• Shmitah year (let the land rest, yo)
• Laws of Passover, Sukkot, and Shavuot (pilgrimage and sacrifice -- according to your means)

Then I got into the meat of what either Matters to Chavi or is Bothering Chavi. I started with Devarim 17:14-15,

When you enter the land the Lord your God is giving you and have taken possession of it and settled in it, and you say, “Let us set a king over us like all the nations around us,” be sure to appoint over you a king the Lord your God chooses. He must be from among your fellow Israelites. Do not place a foreigner over you, one who is not an Israelite. 

I tied this to something I actually posted here on the blog in this post from July 17 about the decision to make aliyah and the challenges I was facing.

There is a positive, biblical commandment to dwell in Eretz Yisrael, as it says, "You shall possess it and dwell in it" (Devarim 17:14, 26:1). (Sefer Chareidim, Mitzvot Asei HaTeluyot B'Eretz Israel, chap. I, sec 15.) 

Chazal (חז"ל acronym for Chachameinu Zichronam Livracha -- “Our sages, may their memory be blessed”) say that this mitzvah is equal to all the mitzvot of the Torah (Sifrei, Re'eh 28), and it is one of the 613 mitzvot according to the Ramban.

And then I posted The Big Question: What does this mean for the Land of Israel today? Are we rushing a good thing?

This question is based on the understanding of many Hasidic dynasties who have expressed anti-Zionist opinions because of the "Three Oaths" -- found in Talmud Tractate Ketubot 111a -- by which all Jews are bound.  This discussion comes from the book Vayoel Moshe written in 1961 by Satmar Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, who, by the way, was living in Israel at the time. The title of the book states very plainly the rabbi's stance in opposition to the State of Israel,

"And Moses agreed to stay ... an alien in a foreign land" (Exodus 2:21).  

Moses agreed to stay an alien in foreign land, so we should to, right?

So the "Three Oaths" discussion comes from a passage from Shir haShirim in which God made the Israelites promise "to wait for Him before arousing his love" as King Solomon pleaded -- three times -- with the daughters of Israel not to stir “his love” before the time is due. So what are the "Three Oaths" that dictate why we shouldn't have established a State of Israel (beyond, of course, the obvious statement that the State of Israel is a secular, heathen place failing in its Judaism):

1. Do not ascend to Eretz Yisrael as a group using force
2. Do not rebel against the nations of the world
3. The nations of the world will not persecute the nation of Israel excessively (guessing PEOPLE/Am Yisrael)

So, what do you think? Are we rushing things? How do we reconcile the knowledge that the Torah tells us to possess and dwell in the land but that it was meant, perhaps, for the most immediate of generations (aka those that actually did enter and possess the land)? Do Hasidim have footing upon which to stand with the whole "we're rushing it, and this is the reason Mashiach hasn't come yet" argument?

Converts: Like a Skin Lesion

If you haven't purchased Bnei Avraham Ahuvecha: Gerim in Chassidic Thought. Do it. Seriously. Stop fiddling and twiddling and get inspired, please? I'm going to highlighting something interesting that I read in this book off and on, and I hope it encourages you to get a copy of your own.

There is a common statement from our Sages that raises a lot of eyebrows. In Tractate Niddah 13b, Rashi attempts to explain this passage, but let's be honest, he doesn't really make things any better.

'Gerim are as difficult for the Jewish people as sapachas' (קשים גרים לישראל כספחת) because [being as they weren't raised as Jews] they are not sufficiently knowledgeable of G-d's commandments, and this lack of meticulousness can bring punishments to the Jewish people -- moreover, they can negatively influence the Jewish population in general.

Well, tell us how you really feel! And in case you're wondering what sapachas is, it's a type of pesky skin lesion. Then, in Tosafot, commenting on Yevamos 47b, it says,

"Gerim are as difficult fo rthe Jewish people as sapachas because they are not knowledgeable in the details of the commandments, and the Jewish people learn from their actions."

Still, not feeling the love here. It's important to understand that there is an idea in Chassidus that after Mashiach comes, there will be no more gerim. Why? The understanding is that only a sincere convert will go through geirus during a time of crisis and persecution. But when things are good for the Jews, people want to take part (just think of the Esther story) in that mazal. Thus, once Mashiach arrives, the doors of conversion are closed for business. I encourage you to jump in while the water is hot and oppressive.

So the question is: Why would Rashi and Tosafot speak so poorly of gerim during the times in which they were living? After all, HaShem demands love and acceptance for the ger, right?

In comes a contradictory explanation from Tosafot in Tractate Kiddushin 70b:

Rabbi Avraham Ger explained that gerim are as difficult for the Jewish people as sapachas because they are fastidious in their observance of the commandments and knowledgeable in the details surrounding them -- which causes G-d to remember the transgressions of those Jewish people who are not performing his will.

If there were a giant "like" button floating over that quote, I'd hope that all of you would smack it until your keyboard-poking finger was bleeding. Although the various renditions of this that I've read in this book don't cite it, I'd have to say that this ties in very closely with what the midrash has to say about Rachav (my favorite convert) and how her actions of identifying HaShem as the one and only, repentance, and geirus were reflected later in the life of her descendent the prophet Jeremiah. In Pesikta de Rav Kahana, Divrei Yirmiyahu 13:5, it says,

“The son of the corrupted one who mended her ways will come and reproach the son of the fit one who had gone astray.” 

Also in Pesikta de Rav Kahana, Divrei Yirmiyahu 13:4 it goes so far as to say that whatever was written in Israel's honor was written in Rahav's praise. Just check out the juxtaposition of these:

It is written of Rahab (Josh. 2:12): “Now, since I have shown loyalty to you, swear to me by the Lord.” And of Israel (Jer. 5:2): “They are sure to be swearing falsely." It is written of Rahab (Josh. 2:13): “that you will spare the lives of my father and mother.” And of Israel (Ezek. 22:7): “Fathers and mothers have been humiliated within you."

Thus, I think that the contradictory statement of the Tosafot is probably running with the right message. If not because of the Rachav connection and what the Rabbis had to say about geirus, then perhaps this approach from Bo M'Ephrosa, Parshas Tazria, Shalosh Seudos 5771 will sparkle your fancy:

A sapachas develops on the flesh in order to awaken one to return to G-d, and if, G-d forbid, the individual does not heed the message, he can bring great suffering on himself. Similarly, gerim are to awaken the Jewish people to serve G-d with fiery enthusiasm and meticulous observance of the Torah's commandments. They cause those born jewish to follow their good example and fulfill the commandments with an uplifted soul and not out of habit or rote. If, G-d forbid, those born Jewish do not take inspiration from their example, this can cause great accusations to be brought against them Above. The Sages taught that because Hillel was poor, a poor man could not use poverty as an excuse for not learning Torah. Rabbi Elzar ben Charsom was rich, so a rich man could use his wealth as an excuse. Joseph was able to control his passions, so even the wicked are obligated to do likewise. In the same manner, gerim obligate those born Jewish to act as they should. 

Loads of heavy responsibility rests on the shoulders of the ger, whether we know it, like it, or want it. Stay tuned for some more beautiful morsels on Gerim in Chassidic Thought -- including birthdays. Yes, birthdays. For gerim, it's a perplexing question of what to celebrate. 

What Does Modern Orthodoxy Mean?

What. A. Shabbat.

I don't know what it was about this Shabbat, but it felt good. I felt uplifted and in-step with myself. Despite the noise of the random visitors there for simchas of people I've never met or seen at shul, despite the wind and a bit of rain, this Shabbat was a bright spot on my Shabbatot here in Denver. I got invited out for lunch (mad props to Mr. and Mrs. L who also are of the vegetarian variety) and got to listen to the illustrious and hilarious Rabbi Dani Rapp talk.

If you've never experienced Rabbi Rapp, he's in the NY area and you need to find some time to go and listen to him. He provides humor with depth, and during his time here in Colorado for the YU Summer of Learning, I've found myself waking up more and more.

Tonight, for example, at seudat shlishit (third meal), he was discussing Modern Orthodoxy (subtitled "The Final Frontier"). He used three classic biblical narratives to give depth and understanding to what exactly it means to be Modern and Orthodox, the Tower of Babel and Yosef and his brothers among them. (I know, I should remember the third, but it's escaping me.)

Regarding the Tower of Babel, I heard a take on the narrative that -- despite my vast education on the topic both religiously and academically -- I hadn't considered. Rabbi Rapp cited Nehama Leibowitz when saying that we sometimes need to learn Torah like Rashi did -- without Rashi. (*giggle snarfle giggle*) The common narrative that we know isn't what's really in the text. That being said, Rabbi Rapp told a story of a people who built a tower as high as the sky in order to watch over the community -- to make sure no one left. This people gathered in a valley, speaking one language, and realized that they had a good thing going: homogeneity. They decided it was a good way of life, so they built the tower to keep people in, to keep them in line. HaShem said, whoa, folks, this isn't how the world was meant to work! Spread to the corners of the earth, inhabit my creation! Thus, bavel -- confusion, multiple languages, and a people spread out. A people living among other people.

Now the story of Yosef and his brothers also had a quirk that I hadn't noticed before. It goes something like this: Yosef had a dream. He wanted to go out, to be as he was but to show the world, to spread HaShem and their way of life around. To be a light unto the nations. His brothers, on the other hand, thought things were good, that Yosef was nuts, that the internal culture they had was solid. So they sold Yosef, bid him good luck in living in the "outside world" and maintaining who he was. And guess what? Yosef proved them so wrong. When the brothers come to Yosef, their shame is from knowing that his philosophy was right -- not that they'd sold him. Yosef knew something his brothers didn't: We're meant to be out in the world, living with other nations and growing in Yiddishkeit.

So what does this all mean? How did Rabbi Rapp amazingly tie it back into what Modern Orthodoxy means for us today? These narratives are two examples where HaShem was proving to the Israelites/Jewish people that we're meant to be a people among the nations. A light unto the nations, if you will. To that point, "Modern" in Modern Orthodoxy doesn't mean less or leniency or even that a Modern Orthodox Jew is living in the modern, outside world. No, it means MORE. Why? Because, like Yosef, when you are put in a position where the world is not homogenous, you must try harder and be more committed to living a Torah-observant life. It takes more strength to live among the nations and not to become one of them, but rather to hold your head high and serve as an example -- a light -- unto the nations of the world of what determination and commitment look like.

Wow. Right?

In the process of the day, Rabbi Rapp was able to make passing mentions of the ASIFA, Whole Foods, 14'ers, the Xbox, and so very much more. That's a talent -- engaging Torah with pop culture woven in. Some rabbis try really hard to make it happen. Rabbi Rapp did it, and it's left a lasting impact on me. After his shiur this evening I told him that he's very "Tweetable," so it's hard to listen to him on Shabbat. That's the sign of a good rabbi, folks.

If you're jonesing for a bit of learning, check out YU Torah and search for Rabbi Rapp there to hear some of his shiurim from his summer here in Denver -- many of which are on conversion, believe it or not. (Oh, did I mention he's an RCA Beth Din member?)

A Zivug or Bashert?

When we go through life looking for that other half, the piece of ourselves that was incomplete at birth (what Kabbalah calls plag nishmasa – half souls), we often say that we're searching for our bashert -- our soul mate. But what about your zivug? 

In search of my bashert, a Yiddish word meaning destiny, I've run into the term zivug quite a bit, and I'll be honest in saying that I was unfamiliar and unaware of the terminology. From what I can muster up online, zivug is your preordained mate or match. In the Talmud (Sotah 2) Rav Shmuel bar Rav Yitzchak says in the name of Reish Lakish that a man's zivug is made only according to his deeds. The gemara then challenges Reish Lakish by citing Rav Yehudah in the name of Rav, who says that it's about mazal as forty days before creation of the embryo a bat kol issues forth and pronounces his zivug.

We've all heard this before, right? That before we're even born HaShem has already played the part of shadchan (matchmaker). But the gemara goes on in this deeds versus mazal (luck, aka Rav Yehudah's take) to say that in truth they are both right, because there actually are two matches: zivug rishon is based on mazal and zivug sheni is based on deeds. 


Wait, what? Are we being set up to fail!?

According to Rashi, the reason why the zivug is determined according to one's deeds is that if a person's deeds are meritorious, he is given a better zivug. The thought process is that if you're some crazy tzaddik whose deeds go above and beyond what mazal provided, then chances are there's a better zivug out there for him. So his wife dies, he gets a more meritorious bride, and everyone lives happily ever after. The Mekubalim explain that this second matching only happens if one deserves it because of his good words. If he doesn't merit to receive his intended match, he ends up with another woman.  [Note: This whole concept seems to only apply to widows and widowers! (According to Rabbenu Tam.)]

But it makes me wonder if maybe my first marriage didn't work because some tzaddik out there has merited me as a wife. (Oh geez, seriously Chaviva, come on, really?) Wishful thinking never hurt anyone, right? But there's a lot more weight on that second zivug. After all, it's based on our merits. "Under Pressure" doesn't even begin to describe the heft resting on the shoulders of someone searching for their zivug sheni. 

I guess you could say that because of the idea that man and women are created as one that and that because their neshama is as one, that you can have options with zivug, but that only one of them is your bashert. In a way, it's a contingency plan that HaShem has put into place.

I know, I know. I'm providing a very simplified version of the zivug rishon and sheni issue. Read all of the insights here. There's also a great article here that explains things a little bit further, including some of Rambam's approaches to this issue.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled flashbacks of Chaviva performing as the mother of Mottel in Fiddler on the Roof in 2000 in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Pirkei Avot for the Soul

In an effort to get back to basics (that is, a Lech Lecha reboot for my neshama), I've decided to get my Pirkei Avot on. Study, study, study.

After all, the focus of the Avot are a guide from HaShem to help us nurse our souls back to spiritual health, according to Knesses Yisrael.

I'm starting small, with the "intro" to the Avot, which is a prologue of sorts and is read as an introduction o the weekly chapter. The question is: Why? Here's the text:

כל ישראל יש להם חלק לעולם הבא, שנאמר "ועמך כלם צדיקים, לעולם יירשו ארץ, נצר מטעי, מעשה ידי להתפאר." 

Okay, so a quick and simple translation here is that to all Israel there is a portion toward the world to come, as it is said, "And all of your people are righteous, they shall inherit the land forever, a branch of my orchard in which I take pride." The latter portion of the text (the quote) comes from Isaiah 60:21.

Easy enough, it's says a lot in a brief bit, but why do we use this particular piece of mishnah from Sanhedrin 90a to begin the study of Pirkei Avot.

Beginning the study of texts that work to nurse the soul back to spiritual health with a text that reminds us that we have a portion toward the world to come musters up a lot of pressure. We're reminded that as members of the nation of Israel, we're granted a portion toward the world to come. It's a given, right? It's interesting to point out that the text uses "l'olam ha'ba" and not "b'olam ha'ba." The former means "to" or "toward" the world to come and the latter means "in" the world to come. Because of this, we can understand that olam ha'ba (the world to come) is not something that already exists that is just waiting for us. Rather, all of Israel is granted a portion toward the world to come, which means that all that we do here in this life serves as construction for what our future world looks like.

Think about it like the Chofetz Chaim did. Helek (חלק), or portion, can be rendered as a plot, like a plot of land. If every Jew is given a plot of land, he must cultivate it through living a life of Torah and mitzvot. If you ignore the plot, ignore your spiritual growth, then that plot that is empty and barren in this world will be the same in the world to come. 


Brilliant! So think of your portion in this world as a plot of land, and make sure you're sowing the seeds, watering the ground, harvesting the fruits. It's a cycle -- it's not a one-off. And so we begin Pirkei Avot, with a call to and reminder of our birthright -- חלק לעולם הבא. 


Moving forward, I'm not going to write about every little tidbit from Pirkei Avot -- only the ones that really strike me as earth-moving and soul-shattering (in the good way, of course). Have a favorite perek? Let me know!

Shavuot: Help me Decide!

I'm super stoked that I'm most likely going to be teaching as a part of Tikkun Leil Shavuot -- Rectification for Shavuot Night -- the custom of engaging in all-night Torah study over Shavuot, this year during the Denver Na'aleh Minyan's Shavuaton up in Vail, Colorado. Yes, it will be three days of awesome learning, shmoozing, and enjoying the great outdoors.

When I was in West Hartford, I got to teach on my most-favorite topic: "Rachav the Harlot: The Rabbis' Convert." I haven't taught any other years, but I'm stoked and debating what to teach on this year. I have many specialties, but I thought I'd crowdsource the final topic.

So vote!

To Prep You for the Parshah ...

This week's parshah is Acharei-Kedoshim, which is chock full of mitzvoth. When it comes to the commandments, there are huge discussions to be had about the laws from the Torah versus mitzvoth from the Rabbis, as well as the "fences" that the ultra-Orthodox build around the basic halachot (laws).

This story is my favorite example of the mitzvoth in Judaism:

As a seminary student in Israel, my wife and her friends had to cook their own meals. One evening, as my wife was about to broil a chicken, a roommate stopped her, horrified at what was happening. "Don't you know that you can't cook a chicken whole, that you must remove the legs first?" her friend exclaimed. 

My wife had never heard of such a thing, and neither had the few rabbis they spoke with about it the next day. So the roommate asked her mother why she cooked chicken that way. Her mother said that she had copied her own mother who was fastidious in the observance of kashrut laws. So they asked the grandmother: "Why did you always cut the legs off the chicken?" 

"Simple," she explained, "There wasn't enough room in the pan!"

Then again, when it comes to fences, as Vayikra 18:30 says, "guard my guardings" (וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם אֶת מִשְׁמַרְתִּי) ... which suggests, perhaps, HaShem wanted us to put up some fences. The question is: How many? How big are those fences?

Also: Every time I go to someone's house for the first time and observe their own minhagim (tradition) quirks, I wonder and ask where they came from. Often times, people don't know. It makes me wonder how easy it would be for me to simply create a tradition, to build a fence around a mitzvah and make it standard. Oh the options!

Brightening Up in Boulder

For me, Boulder is where it's at. Spiritually, with comfort, with kindness.

I spent another Shabbat there, and I was once again reminded why it feels so comfortable in that community. When you're sitting around a third-meal table singing niggunim and all of the voices -- no matter how few -- seem to match up like a well-trained chorus, when you feel comfortable moving from learning in the sanctuary to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, when children take you to you in seconds giggling with you, when you feel at home ... that's Boulder for me. It was what I needed in this moment of my life where "change" seems to be the only constant.

The learning aspect of being in Boulder is something that I love. When I'm alone in Denver, I don't know what shabbat is supposed to be.

Item 1: The parshah on Shabbat was Shemini and it contained the midpoint of the Torah as measured in words when Moshe considers offerings. Those words that fall on either side of the midpoint are דרש דרש, darosh darash. The doubling of words in Hebrew often implies an intensity of the basic word, so in this case it suggests intensive inquiry, an intense searching. That's Judaism in a nutshell, folks.

Item 2: We discussed Nadav and Avihu and the prohibition of certain actions while intoxicated. The conclusion that we arrived at was that they weren't literally drunk, but perhaps drunk on HaShem. They were so up in the clouds that this world didn't make sense to them. They were, in a way, too high up for this world. It's how I feel sometimes, like I can't connect to this world. I don't, however, want to be the next Nadav or Avihu ... but there are some minds that aren't long for this world because they can't connect on the appropriate level to people, they can't figure out relationships. The lesson: figure out how to live in this world, figure out relationships, figure out how to bring ourselves down to this world. We live here, we don't live in shamayim.

I feel like I walked away from my Shabbat in Boulder with a more vivid view of my neshama. I feel like the flame is brighter, and that I'm moving forward. Small steps, Chavi. Small steps.

And of coure, in addition to just feel at home in Boulder, there's the fact that the Pearl Street Mall is a lot like Ben Yehuda ... especially after Shabbat. Don't believe me?

This was Friday before Shabbat. I roamed the mall ...

This guy was bananas. Muscles like crazy. 

Ben Yehuda has break dancing, Boulder has Improv Yoga. 

Breaking Through the Darkness

In 2007, I wrote, regarding this week's Torah portion:

Having never read through the Bible/Torah before, even in my youth (I was raised w/o religion, essentially), I was unfamiliar with some of the plagues. Perhaps the one I was most unfamiliar with is the Ninth Plague -- darkness. The sages surmise that it wasn't physical darkness, such as that brought by a sandstorm or eclipse, but rather that it was "a spiritual or psychological darkness, a deep depression." The Torah reads, "People could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where he was" (Ex. 10:23). The commentary comments that people suffering from depression often lack the energy to move about or to concern themselves with others, focusing instead on themselves. Having nearly drowned in the sea of darkness that is depression myself, I read this and am completely overwhelmed. My mother and the man I love both suffer that which was plagued on the Egyptians. A darkness that comes and goes, though.


The commentary reads: "The person who cannot see his neighbor is incapable of spiritual growth, incapable of rising from where he is currently." Amid the Ninth Plague, "People could not see one another." The Catch 22 of depression is that, oftentimes, one feels so absolutely alone that he or she is driven into the depths of darkness where it is most lonely. Yet, if the person is incapable of seeing his or her neighbor to begin with, and within darkness is also unable to see his or her neighbor, what is to release them so that they can attain spiritual growth?


One of the hardest lessons that I'm learning after my divorce, my move, and my new relationship is knowing that I'm not alone. So many people have supported me through everything, and there have been so many expressions of love, support, and outreach, but when you're stuck in your aloneness and loneliness, those are hard spaces of darkness out of which to break.

Taylor reminds me, almost daily, that I am not alone -- "After all," he says, "Isn't this why we have each other?"

My dialogue with HaShem is continuous, and many of my prayers are for strength, peace, and guidance. I'm slowly rising from the darkness that I have known for so long, and it starts with realizing that I am not alone, despite how much I feel that. It's like an arrested development. At some point, I was faced with being alone, worthless, the wish that I had never been born vocalized outside myself. I'm attempting to remove myself from that arrested status emotionally and mentally.

I would guess that this plague, the plague of darkness, was the most painful and heartbreaking of them all. I wish such a plague upon no one and only hope that we all can learn from darkness and remember that the one thing that HaShem truly asks of us is to bring light into this world. And that light arises from our neshamot. Be true to yourself, let your neshama shine through, light the fire and let it grip the world around you into brightness.

Yummy Torah Goodness from Kol Menachem!

Back in late 2009 and early 2010, I had the pleasure of working on an amazing project with Kol Menachem Publishers, which most of you are probably familiar with from their publication of the Gutnick Chumash. I had the pleasure of encountering the brains behind the operation, Rabbi Chaim Miller, back in 2008 when I attended the Chabad Shabbaton in Crown Heights (I wrote about it, too!), and we struck up a friendship and professional interest -- with him having upcoming projects and me being a trained copy editor.

When Rabbi Miller reached out with a new project -- The Lifestyle Books: The Five Books of Moses -- I was intrigued personally and professionally and hopped on the project without skipping a beat. Over several months, I worked as part of a team to help do some nitty gritty editing, and then sat back to wait for it to come to fruition in printed form. Lucky for you and me, it's been published!

When I was working on the project, I had no idea what the aesthetics were going to be for this particular book, and when I got a final copy of the book, I was blown away. As someone who grew up with illustrative and informative versions of the Bible (that, after all, is how Christians layout their Bible, giving color and stories a place within the text for text-study and being fully informative), this version of the chumash provides something that no other before does.

With a charming, colorful presentation, multiple strands of commentary and groundbreaking, interactive features, the Lifestyle Books Torah transforms the text into an experience-personalized, engaging and happening now. Its goal is to uncover the spiritual potential and human relevance in every line.

There is a full Hebrew text, a translation that makes the Bible so much easier to comprehend, a personalized running commentary that gives voice to "hundreds of Jewish thinkers and mystics, in a chorus that will speak to your life," as well as spiritual "treats" on every page, including "Kabbalah bites" that offer meditations, insights, and "Food for Thought." You can find a full sample of the Lifestyle Torah by clicking here. 

It's the kind of Torah that makes you ask questions, stop and consider, and not race through the parshah and haftarah portions. Here's what I sent Rabbi Miller upon receiving and looking through the Lifestyle Torah and its companion Prayers for Friday Night (which, by the way, is crazy amazing, too):

It turned out so beautiful, the aesthetics are truly unlike any other version I've seen, so I have to hand it to your design team. There's so much to read, and I really like the insights, kabbalah tidbits, and discussion points. Basically, I'm a huge fan. And the Friday-night companion? That's outstanding.

The companion offers explanation, insight, and even dates for when certain prayers became part of the lexicon of the siddur. Soon, Rabbi Miller hopes, there will be a full-on companion in the Lifestyle Torah collection that moves beyond simply Friday Night. Check out a full sample of the Friday Night companion here. 

There's Hebrew AND English, so don't let this scare you!

I've always been a sucker for the Gutnick chumash, but there's something about this volume of the Lifestyle Torah that just offers those very simple and thought-provoking insights that we all crave when studying the weekly Torah portion. 

If you're interested, head over to Kol Menachem and pick up your own copies of the Lifestyle Torah and the Friday Night companion!

Getting Help: Books You Can Trust

I love books. In fact, I just went on a book-buying binge, picking up some things by Michael Chabon, Cynthia Ozick, and Kurt Vonnegut, among others. But before I get to those, I have to write about a couple of books that arrived on my doorstep from some outstanding rabbi-authors (yes, for free, to review). Here's one review, and stay tuned for the other. Also, let me know if you've read either of these books or are familiar with the authors! I'd love your feedback

Relationship 1.1 
The Genesis of Togetherness: Tapping Torah's wisdom to fine-tune your marriage
By Rabbi Gavriel Goldfeder


Okay, I know what you're thinking: This couldn't have come at a worse time, right? I moved to Colorado and the rabbi-author of this book, Gavriel Goldfeder, who calls himself "alternadox" and runs Aish Boulder, shot me an email mentioning this book and inviting me up for Shabbat. The Shabbat plans fell through, and I haven't made it back up yet, but the book arrived and I spent this past Shabbat reading through bits and pieces of the book.

Yes, I could have used this book back in January when the proverbial feces hit the proverbial fan in my marriage for the first time, but I didn't have this book. In fact, I bought another book at the YU Seforim Sale earlier this year and dedicated myself to reading it with my ex-husband every night; it lasted about a week. There was something insincere and cheesy and dishonest about the book. But Rabbi Goldfeder's book?

A book in which the rabbi-author, seeking to help the reader find balance and peace in a marriage, quotes the movie Batman Begins and talks about balancing "me" with "we" as being akin to a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup can't be bad, right?

"No one ever dreamed that peanut butter covered with chocolate could produce one of the best selling candies of all time. We've got to be able [to] hold on to the essential ingredients of who we are while also blending and joining forces. It could be a huge hit!" (16).

So I dove in, reading the first few chapters and wishing that I had known Rabbi Goldfeder back when. I think my marriage would have ended sooner, before I fell into a deep hole of depression and despair that it took me months to crawl out of in order to get the courage to ask for a divorce. The book is set up so that for each parshah of Genesis there is a chapter. The rabbi-author gives you a brief synopsis of the portion, then leads you through the story and its relevance within marriage and a lesson or two that one can take away from the portion. Basically, his goal is to take you back to the beginning -- and he does so with style, grace, and humor, and he doesn't shy away from relating his own faults in marriage.

Like I said, I didn't read the whole book because, well, it was a hard topic to grasp being only about three months out of my marriage, all while knowing that my ex-husband -- from whom I split amicably -- already is engaged (mazal tov!). So, I'm passing the book on to the lovely Melissa over at Redefining Rebbetzin to get a presently married woman's take on the book. I know that if and when I get married again, this book will come to my aid many times (so she better give it back!).

I have to hand it to whoever designed the book, too, because there's something about the cover that is rare when it comes to Jewish books -- it's classy, it's universal, it's something I'd see on a bookshelf and want to read. Also, there's something about the font and layout that makes this book incredibly readable. If you know what I mean, you know what I mean. If you're not into aesthetics, then this means nothing to you. But it's an easily read 130 pages of text, no doubt.

Perhaps the bit that hit home the most, but also urged me to put the book down because of the emotional impact of the statement is the following from Chapter 2 "The Other" on Parshah Noach.

There is a spiritual handicap that plagues many couples. Selfishness is not the right word, as it implies awareness of another while prioritizing one's own needs. Self-absorption is closer to the point -- focused only on one's self, unaware of others. The only way the self-absorption can work (or seem to work) in a marriage is if the other person is willing to play the slave, ensconced in total devotion and surrender. (19)

Many of my readers and friends watched me become someone I wasn't during my marriage -- weak, meek, sad, lonely -- and I think that Rabbi Goldfeder hits on a point here that so many people face, and even after months of counseling, it was difficult if not impossible to break free of these roles.

Basically, we should all just be a lot more like Peanut Butter Cups. It's easy, right?

Like a Shofar, Raise Your Voice

On a whim, while failing to fall asleep the other night, I decided to read one of the portions of the Yom Kippur reading: Isaiah 57:15-58:14. I was struck by the following, because I think it makes aware something that we probably don't consider when it comes to fasting.

In this portion, from 58:14, Isaiah is sharing G-d's words.

Call with a full voice, do not spare, like a shofar raise your voice and relate to My people their transgression, and to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet they seek Me daily and they wish to know My ways, like a nation that performed righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of its G-d: they ask Me ordinances of righteousness; they desire nearness to G-d. 

And the people ask: "Why have we fasted, and You did not see; we have afflicted our soul and You do not know?" And HaShem answers with a question about how we fast and why we fast.

Behold, for quarrel and strife you fast, and to strike with a fist of wickedness. Do not fast like this day, to make your voice heard on high. Will such be the fast I will choose, a day of man's afflicting his soul? Is it to bend his head like a fishhook and spread out sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is this not the fast I will choose? To undo the fetters of wickedness, to untie the bands of perverseness, and to let out the oppressed free, and all perverseness you shall eliminate. Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and moaning poor you shall bring home; when you see a naked one, you shall clothe him, and from your flesh you shall not hide?

HaShem says not to bow your head and afflict yourself so much as to open your eyes to the true reason we fast, to acknowledge the wickedness and neglect of our people that we pursue day in and day out.

Then your light shall break forth as the dawn, and your healing shall quickly sprout, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall gather you in. Then you shall call and the Lord shall answer, you shall cry and He shall say, "Here I am," if you remove perverseness from your midst, putting forth the finger and speaking wickedness. And you draw out your soul to the hungry, and an afflicted soul you sate, then your light shall shine in the darkness, and your darkness shall be like noon. And the Lord shall always lead you, and He shall satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; and you shall be like a well-watered garden and like a spring of water whose water does not fail.

And this part I really like, because it says exactly what we need to do; HaShem doesn't mince words. He's not mealymouthed about what is expected of us.

And [those coming] from you shall build ancient ruins, foundations of generations you shall erect, and you shall be called the repairer of the breaches, restorer of the paths, to dwell in. If you restrain your foot because of the Sabbath, from performing your affairs on My holy day, and you call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord honored, and you honor it by not doing your wonted ways, by not pursuing your affairs and speaking words. Then, you shall delight with the Lord, and I will cause you to ride on the high places of the land, and I will give you to eat the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

It's easy as pie. So often we look to fast days as a means of pain and suffering for our own souls, for our own being. But the truth is that Yom Kippur and its fast are a means of taking our inward obsession outward and to acknowledge the indifference we have to those around us, to the hungry and empty souls that need to be sated, to observe the Sabbath and to make for ourselves a path of repair. 

I want to wish you all a tzom qal (easy fast), which doesn't mean I hope it's a walk in the park for you, but that I wish that you all have come to a point of inner reflection over these Days of Awe so that when it comes to standing before HaShem and asking to be sealed in the book of life that it means something and that it is more than mere words and wishes, that it is based on introspection and action, so that for HaShem it is easy -- easy to seal you eternally in the Book of Life and to the House of Jacob. 

Thoughts on Parshah Eikev

I really like reading and writing about the weekly Torah portion, or parshah, but I know that it isn't a highly read thing here on the blog. I'm here to cater to my readers, but sometimes I just have to get some thoughts down on the page and hope someone appreciates them. No guilt or anything, of course, but I have some thoughts about this week's parshah, Eikev.

Eikev comprises Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25 and is a continuation of Moshe's final words to the Israelites in which he implores them to follow the word of HaShem and he reminds them of all of those ... missteps ... that they're so well known for, the Golden Calf incident among them.

In Deut. 7:14, it says

ברוך תהיה מכל העמים

Most would probably use this line as proof, especially with the English translation, that Jews view themselves as greater, holier, more special than other people. The English translation often reads "You will be blessed above all people." The Hebrew uses the preposition min (מן or -מ), which means "from." It's a comparative preposition, and it would be used to say "I am smarter than him" (אני יותר חכמה ממנו). A literal translation would be "I am more smart from him," but that's how Hebrew works. When you're comparing two things, you're setting them apart. Something is XXX from XXX.

Thus, this specific phrase from the parshah, which is found in a million other places in the Torah actually means that HaShem has made us different from other nations. Different, separate, unique. Remember that when you're eating a big plate of bacon with all of your non-Jewish friends. (I'm only half-joking here.) Is our uniqueness granted by HaShem inherent? Or must we act different?

In Deut. 9:9, Moshe tells the Israelites that he "neither ate bread nor drank water" during his 40 days and nights atop the mount in the desert when he was obtaining the commands from HaShem. Oddly enough, earlier, in Deut. 8:3, we read the following:

And He afflicted you and let you go hungry, and then fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your forefathers know, so that He would make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but rather by, whatever comes forth from the mouth of the Lord does man live.

וַיְעַנְּךָ וַיַּרְעִבֶךָ וַיַּאֲכִלְךָ אֶת הַמָּן אֲשֶׁר לֹא יָדַעְתָּ וְלֹא יָדְעוּן אֲבֹתֶיךָ לְמַעַן הוֹדִעֲךָ כִּי לֹא עַל הַלֶּחֶם לְבַדּוֹ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם כִּי עַל כָּל מוֹצָא פִי יְי יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם:

Bazinga! Intentional or not, there's a juxtaposition with a point here. Moshe knew that man does not live by bread alone, so his hunger upon the mount was met with the words of HaShem, and that was enough. I suppose this is a powerful lesson for those of us that struggle with food, eh?

Later on in Deut. 9 I find it odd that the retelling of the Golden Calf incident from Ki Tisa doesn't mention an important aspect of the narrative. When Moshe descends the mount and finds out what has happened, the Golden Calf is burned and its ashes are spread into the water that trickles down from the mountain. In Ki Tisa, the people are then required to drink the concoction of ashes and water, but in Eikev, there's no mention of this ritual. I find it interesting simply because this very ritual of ashes and water was a very common one in the Ancient Near East, which makes me wonder if when the writing of Deuteronomy was going on the ritual was taboo among the Israelites. (I've written about the Golden Calf a lot in the past.)

There's also a lot of talk in this parshah about going to "possess" the land that HaShem as given our forefathers. It makes me jealous of those who've been able to make aliyah (or moving to Israel) a real, tangible thing. And maybe what that nagging empty feeling that really strikes me at random intervals is. All I can say for now is, in time. Ultimately I'll be in Israel, I just don't know when. HaShem promised it to my -- OUR -- forefathers, so it's only right that we should make it happen. It's not a "maybe," it's a "must be."

And, of course, I would be remiss to not mention the following phrase from Deut. 10:19 to love the ger or stranger in your midst.

ואהבתם את הגר בי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים

I hate to argue that this doesn't mean convert, because I know that later, in the Talmud, anything related to ger is referred to as meaning convert. In the Ancient Near East, people did float from religious entity to religious entity quite freely, but I don't know how actually prevalent it was for one to truly "join" the Israelites. It is possible that there were those who lived among the Israelites out of admiration or a sense of justice, and it likely was a situation much like today in Israel where refugees flee because of this very sentiment -- love the strangers in your midst, don't shun them or treat them poorly because you know what that felt like once upon a time. The theory is that Jews do so well no matter where they are because they know what it's like to be the minority. Thus, the assumption is that we tend to be a little more forgiving to those unlike us because we know how it feels to be the odd man out.

But the way the parshah ends has me a little unsettled. From Deut. 11:22-25:

For if you keep all of these mitzvot that I command you to do, to love HaShem, to walk in all His ways, and to cleave to Him, then HaShem will drive out all of these nations from before you and you will possess nations greater and stronger than you. Every place upon which the soles of your feet will tread will be yours: from the desert and Lebanon, from the river, the Euphrates, and until the western sea, will be your boundary.

No man will stand up before you: the Lord your G-d will cast the fear of you and the dread of you on all the land upon which you tread, as He has spoken to you.

This sort of makes it sound like we're going to be some big scary force that the rest of the nations cower before, and I'm not sure I like the sound of that. There's no real "how" for this, and that also has me worried. And the word "possess" ...? Of course, I'm thinking of the physical, when perhaps HaShem really means possess in terms of possessing respect and acknowledgement. The verb is לרשת, which translates to inherit or succeed, so I suppose it's pretty clear that it's a physical take-over or succession.

But now I wonder ... back then, nations were small, nations were made up of peoples sharing a similar geographic boundary. Nations aren't like what we have today. The boundaries are clear in this portion, so perhaps, then, the claim has been satisfied -- almost. Maybe it doesn't mean world domination, but simply geographic domination over the specific land area that HaShem gave our forefathers. Does this mean we're just that much closer to redemption? It does say "HaShem will cast the fear of you and the dread of you on all the land upon which you tread," so perhaps it does intend something bigger, something greater, something more massive than the geographic boundaries of Eretz Yisrael. However, maybe that bigger, greater thing isn't domination in the sense of politics or military but rather a domination as I mentioned before -- one of the heart and mind, one of respect and acknowledgement.

Perhaps HaShem meant for us to have Eretz Yisrael, but perhaps he also meant for us to have the hearts and minds of the rest of the world. The children of Israel, set apart from all other people yet loving and caring for those unlike ourselves. Perhaps HaShem expected us to fight for mutual respect.