A thought on Parshas Hazinu

"...va'tishkach El me'cholelecha..."
"...and you forgot G-d who delivered you..." (32:18)

Moshe levels stern warnings to his nation as he forecasts the consequences of spiritual straying. He talks about the abominations and the decadence which would come about as the people forsook their religion in times to come. In this verse, he admonishes that "you will come to forget the G-d who created and delivered you", using birth and labor as a metaphor. This metaphor is introduced by the classic commentaries such as Rashi and Ibn Ezra.

A difficulty which one might have with this interpretation is that while it is easy to see how we must appreciate the L-rd who "conceived and bore and delivered" us, it is hard to feel guilty over something which we had nothing to do with. I know that we all have heard from our children, or said as children to our parents, "I didn't ask to be born!" during moments of defiance. Giving admonition over forsaking HaShem "who delivered us" might seem like such a message. Hard to relate to. Besides, the metaphor of G-d birthing us might seem uncomfortable along theological grounds, albeit just a mashal.

Perhaps for these reasons or others the Chezkuni offers another spin on this novel word me'cholelecha. Rather than seeing the root word chil which refers to labor pain and contractions, he sees the root word machol here, which means to dance! HaShem took us out of Egypt with songs and dancing! (Exodus 15:20). He will bring us back to Israel amidst joyous dancing (Jeremiah 31:3, 12)! Our times of glory have been animated and elevated by a reflex of unity and celebration in song and dancing. This is embedded in our soul and in our collective memory. (While in high school, one of my rebbeim, R' Pinchas Katz n'y told us that he had heard from one of his teachers that as the Nazis y's closed in on the shul in one of the large German cities, the men in the congregation broke from their typical stately, composed style and spontaneously clutched hands and danced gracefully, slowly in a circle. No one planned it and no one seemed to know what had motivated it, other than some deeply embedded sense that this was the way to give honor to G-d in that final moment before capture, torture and deportation.) This is the archetype of the Jewish dance.

And you forgot the G-d who caused you to dance! With this interpretation and the picture which it creates, we can feel both the extent of our straying and the gravity of that desertion. We have a G-d and Savior who took us out of bondage to the degree that we were able to exult in song and dancing. Our bodies swayed as one entity in that gesture to the One Above. It was a reflex, it came naturally and it signaled the intense reverberation of the soul and the spirit within in our yearning to reach up and give homage. To forsake such a Master, to obscure such a holy experience constitutes forgetting Heaven in the gravest extreme.

They tell a story of Rav Shach zt'l who was seen late one night dancing alone in the snowy streets of Jerusalem. He was later questioned about this and he said that he had traveled from Benei Berak to ask the Brisker Rov zt'l a question on a gemara and the Rov's explanation had been so brilliant and inspiring that he, Rav Shach, felt impelled to dance with joy. So he did so, alone, in the heart of the night, on a snowy street in old Jerusalem.

As Yom Kippur and the Days of Awe climb to their zenith, may we feel within ourselves a transition from "ne'hepach l'evel mecholainu" - "our dance has turned to sorrow" (Lamentations 5:15) to "ha'fachta mispedi l'machol li" - "You have turned our sorrow into dancing" (Psalms 30:12).

Wishing you a good Shabbos, and thanks again to the Chezkuni. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Nitzavim Vayelch

"...v'hisbarech bi'levavo..."
"...and he will bless himself in his mind..." (29:18)

The Torah describes the rationalization of a person who hears the penalties and consequences of disregarding the ways of HaShem. "I can do as I chose and things will be fine", he declares.

The Chezkuni highlights this by drawing attention to the word v'hisbarech, which clearly has the root "bracha", or blessing. This man hears the disdain and disapproving admonitions of his peers, all of whom are afraid to violate the Torah. He figures to himself that he will counter their "curse" with a self- administered blessing. "He is like a person who hears a warning and says, "this applies to everyone except me."

If we look for the maladies of a generation, we see that issues and problems shift with time and with region. In some generations it has been idolatry that has tempted men's souls. In others, it has been the pursuit of power. In still others, it is the lust for the forbidden, or for wealth or for unbridled pleasure. In our own times, a major malady is self-absorbtion. We feel entitled. We easily justify boundary violations, rule bending and self-promotion at the expense of others, often blind to the impression and impact that we leave upon others. We come to "rolling stops" at crosswalks, we double park or use handicap zones, we cut in line, we exceed the speed limit and we rush about our "business" as the Chezkuni says: "rules apply to everyone else except me."

The Chezkuni adds that with rationalization, one can permit himself anything. What makes this mechanism so powerful is that is draws upon intellect, and we pride ourselves in our ability to employ our supple intellect. It comes easily to us, and so we utilize intellectual rationalizations to bend rules, bend truth, bend limits and boundaries, and ultimately to bend justice - mishpat m'ukal -
(Chabakuk 1:4).

This is as much a perversion as the other perversions which have infected earlier generations, for it is an invasion of the mind itself, our highest mortal gift from Above.

It is time to simplify ourselves. It is time to simplify our lives. We can go back to the earlier standard of honesty, including honesty with ourselves and within ourselves. We learn to catch ourselves in our self-justifications and rationalized orientation to our world. If something's not right, its wrong. We study, we learn, and then we must say to ourselves, "all of this applies to me and it is my responsibility to make it real and to implement it."May the blessings which we use to bless ourselves echo the blessings which HaShem bestows upon us, and may we be blessed for a straight New Year.
Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Ki Tavo

"...goi asher lo tishma leshono...""...a nation whose language you will not hear..." (28:49)

Moshe warns us of a time to come when a nation from afar will sweep us away to the end of the earth, in exile, where we will not hear their language.

It is not hard to reframe tishma - hearing - into "understanding" so that the verse means that we will be exiled to a place where a strange language is spoken. But if you stop and think about that interpretation, it seems redundant since by definition, a foreign country will utilize a foreign language. It is quite obvious that we will not understand a strange tongue.

Perhaps it is for this difficulty that the Chezkuni interprets tishma as "you will be unable to plead and reason with them." We can understand that ominous thought. One of the fearsome aspects of being exiled to a far off land is the inability to make yourself understood.

However, there are two problems with that interpretation. First, the verse does not say that we will be exiled where "the captor does not hear your language" but rather where "you will not hear their language." Our unheard pleas would reflect their hearing problems, not ours. Second, the Chezkuni writes earlier (at the beginning of the verse) that the "far off nation" refers to Babylon (Bavel). According to our sages (Pesachim 87b), one of the "reasons" for HaShem selecting Bavel as our land of exile is precisely because "their language is close to the language of Torah" (Aramaic). This was viewed by the sages as a kindness from Above which would help assure that Torah study (particularly the Oral Law) would continue with words and syntax which would be close to that of Loshon HaKodesh, to assure that our minds develop images and concepts via psycholinguistic processing of language which would be compatible with the patterns imbued through speaking, reading, writing and thinking in Hebrew. If so, Bavel of all exile places was a land where we would and did "hear their language." In Bavel we would be able to plead and reason with our captors. What gives?

Perhaps the deeper meaning of the Chezkuni, then, is that Moshe hinted and warned us of another somber reality: in exile, we are supposed to remember that we are in exile. We may dress the same, we may look the same and we can even speak the same as our temporary hosts, but the bottom line is that we are not supposed to blend in. Even if we are articulate and educated and on par with our captors in so many affluent and acculturated ways, when it comes down to trying to make ourselves understood as Jews, "we do not hear their language." We miss the nuance of rejection which says "if you try to move too close, we will keep you distant."

HaShem knows, we know, and our hosts in every exile know that there is a rift which divides Yisroel and the amim. When it comes to pleading our cause, we cannot expect the nations to relate to us. We cannot expect to bargain with them. We cannot expect them to extend to us the same rules of fair conduct which they offer their neighbors, or that we offer them. Take for example the recent "bargain" of 800 Palestinian prisoners, terrorists, in exchange for two captured Jewish soldiers.

No one out there cries "foul!" No one out there says "zeh lo fair." So why are we the only ones who keep complaining about this lack of justice? As the Chezkuni says, it is not because we do not speak the right language. It is not because the nations do not hear us. It is because we do not hear their language which is to say that we overlook that latent message which HaShem at times must send via the nations of the world: when we are in exile, we are going to be different, and if we fail to remember that we are different, then the world is going to be indifferent.

Can there be a more sobering reminder in this parsha of tochacha?Good Shabbos. D Fox