A thought on פרשת בא

"...r'eu ki rah k'neged peneichem...""...beware of the evil which will get you..." (10:10)

One way or another, Pharaoh was going to stick to his beliefs. Despite the plagues and the signs which portrayed HaShem's absolute dominion over the universe, Pharaoh would not see past his stance that there were multiple forces operating in the world, competing for power in the heavens and earth. Here he was on the verge of conceding that Moshe could take our nation out of the country, yet he still warned him that he would not succeed. Rather, Pharaoh threatened, there would be a bad moon on the rise, and Moshe would fail.

Clearly, something deep and powerful was taking place here. This was not a petty debate or a vain taunt that Pharaoh was throwing at his nemesis. There has to be a message of theological significance here, and the Ralbag interprets it for us.

There is good in the world. We also perceive troubling events as "bad" in the world. This is our experience. Our brains are bicameral and prone to understandig paradox and conflict as a competition between two forces, the negative and the positive. Spicing up that cognitive analysis with some spirituality, or at least some cosmic flavoring, one can even conclude that there are two divine entities in the universe, the "god of good" and the "god of evil." There are people, and religions, who contend that, or who foster a similar dualism.

Pharaoh opined here that the "god of evil" is....HaShem. After all, from an Egyptian's experiential standpoint, all that this god had done was torture people, beasts and crops. He was the source of bad. He was the entity of evil. He had dominion over the dark side. He was not a god of goodness.

This was his foreboding message to Moshe. This is what he believed. Sadly enough, there were still among our people some individuals who worried about this. They had not sorted out the conflict between events and forces which are, apparently, "good", and those which seem to be "bad." There were those among us who bridged the gap and were able to accept that there was truly only One G-d, yet they assumed that He embodies both the attributes of good and of evil.

This misconception needed to be revised as well. The position which our faith is based on is that HaShem is Good. There is no bad emanating from Above. Those who were in doubt needed a sign from Above to help their conceptualization develop, just as HaShem had shown signs and wonders in Egypt.

The Ralbag suggests that the "sign" therein came later. In the passage of the "bad water" (15:25-26), when the nation thirsted for clear water and came to Marah, a place of bitter water, they balked. HaShem instructed Moshe to throw some bitter wood into the bitter water. The waters turned sweet, and there was a revival of our credence. The sign here, says the Ralbag, with bitter blending with bitter to sweeten the water, was to show the nation that HaShem is good. There is no bad in His powers. His acts are acts of healing, of compassion and goodness. In the same way in which the Egyptians were given signs, which for us proved to be blessings and goodness, our nation was given a sign that when we encounter challenge, the healing solution emanates from HaShem. In Marah, two "wrongs" made a "right." HaShem gave us a sign that even when we perceive something as bitter and negative, it is within HaShem's plan and design to bring about goodness.

Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Vaera

"...Ani HaShem...""...I am now known as HaShem..." (6:1,6)

The theme of this opening passage is that HaShem was known to earlier generations in a different manner, through a different attributional "name", than in the manner in which He was apprehended by the Jews in Egypt.

The Ralbag takes us into deep spiritual space this week. The Torah's lesson to us here is that HaShem guides and guards those who seek Him. This is known as hashgacha. The greater one's sense of relating with the Divine, the more precise and personal their experience of hashgacha.

HaShem took care of the patriarchs. They trusted Him as well as believed in Him and He protected and guided them. Moreover, He promised them in a covenant that they would grow into a great nation, whom He would redeem from suffering. He also promised that those descendants would return to the promised land.

We learned from the Ralbag back in parshas VaYeshev that there is a concept which I termed "infectious hashgacha." This is when a wonderful event may occur in someone's life but not because he or she earned or "deserved" it. Rather, a person may at times be the recipient of another deserving person's bounty. In that other person's merit, someone else is spared from danger r'l or shares by ripple effect in the virtuous person's good times.

Something akin to this was going to happen to us in Egypt. The promise had been given to the patriarchs that their children would be saved. We were their children. It seemed to us back in Egypt that being rescued from slavery would be in the merit of our avos through the covenant made with them. However, this ripple effect, the inherited hashgacha, might suffice to preserve us from destruction. As far as the second half of the promise, that the children would enter the Holy Land, that was a separate matter. It is one thing to be saved. That is physical. To ascend to the Promised Land would be spiritual. Someone else's merit may extend to other people at a physical level. Spiritual growth, however, is a very private and personal matter.

I can be richer because I associate with a good wealthy person. I can be healthier if I hang out with those blessed with good health. I can be upgraded if I travel with a frequent flyer. However, I cannot become "holy" because my neighbor is righteous. I cannot become a talmid chocham because my sons are. I cannot daven well because I sit next to someone who has great kavanna. Spiritual growth requires growth. It must be developed. It has to be earned and worked on.

This was the dilemma facing our nation in Egypt. We grasped the idea that we might see an end to our suffering because that is what the avos were promised. The miracles, the wonders, the signs and the ultimate ge'ula could not be assumed. They could not be granted to us through the agency of our great ancestors. We could not grasp that such great spiritual attainments could be within our reach. We doubted that.

This is what HaShem is explaining to Moshe. The promise to the patriarchs came through their having attained a level of relating with the Divine. It came through their knowing HaShem in the way in which He became known (Kel Sha-k-ai.) In Egypt, HaShem made His Presence known to us with shem HaShem. This is the way in which Moshe apprehended Him, and he taught this to the elders and transmitted this to the nation.

Grasping HaShem in that manner was a fuller and richer level of revelation. We learned to view the signs and wonders as indicative of His majestic omnipresence. Knowing Him through that attribution invited a closeness, a connection, which elevated our spiritual understanding of the Divine. With that elevated level came a more personal level of hashgacha. At that point, while the redemption had been promised already anyway, it was even more within reach through our own merit. Moreover, that spiritual ascendancy "earned us" the ability to ascend to Israel in our own merit.

The more wonders we saw, the stronger our attribution to the Divine of His might and His dominion. Reciprocally, the stronger our knowing, the greater we grew in our spiritual devotion. With that growth came deeper and more intimate hashgacha to the individual and to the nation. This is what HaShem explained to Moshe, and what Moshe instructed our beaten, awestruck and suddenly hopeful people. And we "got it" and continued to grow.

Wishing us more and more signs and wonders. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Shmos

"...va'yomas Yosef v'chol echav v'chol ha'dor ha'hu..."

"...and Yosef died, and all of his brothers and all of that generation..." (1:6)

This verse seems to preface the events which follow, which recount the saga of Moshe needing to flee Egypt in reaction to the danger he was in. That danger, we learn, came about because other Jews spoke ill of him.

The Ralbag observes that the Torah is teaching us one of the reasons that exile lasts so long. When our people fail to care for one another, when we create strife and foster ill will among ourselves, the ordeal of golus increases and our exile persists. The only solution for ending our exile is to focus on closeness with the Divine, yet the key for drawing closer is becoming closer as a nation.

This is the reason that the passage begins with the above verse. Yosef and his brothers had their differences. We learned about those in the closing parshios of Bereishis. Yet, as we learned last week in the final passages of Va'yechi, the brothers resolved their issues. They made amends. They forgave and drew close again. That is why, says the Ralbag, the suffering of exile could not begin as long as they were alive. They lived in a manner which fended off the national exile. They settled their differences. As long as they were alive, the harsh decree of golus was in abeyance.

Only upon the passing of that blessed and exemplary generation would the yoke of exile be felt. This is why our verse, which at first seems like a historical footnote, is the explanatory prelude to how the oppression in Egypt began.

When we Jews interact with compassion, when we collaborate on worthy causes, when we draw near and are supportive and caring, we hold the key to bringing about geula. When we neglect each other, when we are callous or self-absorbed, when we turn against our fellow Jews, we block the geula.

During these last few weeks, while living in Jerusalem, I sensed a cohesiveness among the people in the streets. Religious, secular, whatever skin tone or accent, Jews seemed to be drawing close. Sometimes the scourge of war at our borders can bring about that achdus.
The Ralbag teaches us that we shouldn't wait for our fear to bring forth our kindness! Whatever our circumstances, being considerate and sensitive is good for us always. Moreover, it is the key to releasing us from the shackles of suffering.

Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on פרשת ויחי

"...al na tik'baraeni b'Mitzrayim...""...do not bury me, please, in Egypt..." (47:29)

As his days were ending, Yakov begged his sons not to let him be buried in Egypt.What was the urgency of his plea? What can we derive from it?The Ralbag infers three principles from Yakov's final request.First, a person is remembered, after death, by the surroundings and setting which people associate with his burial place. Yakov forsaw that his family and descendants were destined to return to Israel, their land. He wanted to be associated with them, to be remembered as the patriarch who had set that goal and value for his nation of being together in their own homeland. There could be no better way of demonstrating that then by seeing to it, in advance, that he be buried there.

Second, the Egyptians were a wretched nation. A person must do all that he can to distance himself from bad people and negative influences. Yakov modeled this by declaring that even in death, he wanted to be removed from those people and their values. There could be no better way of assuring this than by seeing to it, in advance, that he be buried there.

Third, the land of Israel is wonderful. It is a land to live in. It is a land to die for. It is the homeland of the Jewish people. Yakov knew about this even as he knew that his descendants would not merit to return there for centuries. Still, he yearned to show his love for the land. There could be no better way of displaying this than by seeing to it, in advance, that he be buried there.

Our nation continues its struggle to claim its heritage and its land. There are Jewish men and women who are living here, and dying to be here, and dying here. My son Akiva took me, on Shabbos, to a chassidic shteible. We recited tehillim for our people. I davened in the sunrise minyan at Zaharei Chama, the shul frequented by the late R'Aryeh Levine, and now by his grandson, R'Avraham Dovid. As we took out the Torah, we said special prayers for our people in plight, and for our soldiers in the South. I went for mincha to the Kosel yesterday on the Tenth of Teves. We cried out to HaShem to redeem us, and protect us, and take care of us here.Someone once said that "Israel is a beautiful land in a bad neighborhood." Yakov Avinu begged to get out of the bad neighborhood and make his way back to Israel. May it be the will of Shomayim that each of us makes our way back here very soon, continuing to follow the path set by Yakov, and continuing to remain on the path of Yisroel.Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Vayigash

"...teshvu b'eretz Goshen...""...settle in the land of Goshen..." (46:34)Yosef, serving as viceroy in Egypt, helped prepare his father and brothers for a long sojourn in that land, which was to be the first national exile of our nation. It is clear that Yosef used all of his skills of leadership in helping his family make plans to endure their exile.
The Ralbag writes that the above verse shows the great foresight, and insight, of Yosef. He knew that the Egyptians detested us (as the verse goes on to say). The wisdom of settling the Jews in Goshen, which was a neighboring province largely unoccupied by Egyptians, was based on the theorem that if the Jews would thrive and multiply, this would stir the animosity of their enemies even further. It would be better to stay away from them, and keep to ourselves. The Ralbag posits that if you have antagonists, trying to live among them will only draw more hatred. Settling in Goshen allowed the Jews to keep a distance from their enemies, and their enemies from them.
Throughout the centuries of our exiles, we Jews have often overlooked this principle. We aim to merge and to assimilate, only to find that wherever a Jew settles, he will still be viewed as a Jew, even he has lost his own identity in his own eyes. There has always been an element of security in the ghetto, and as long as we maintain a Jewish identity, which includes living with integrity, we stay together.
This evening, many parts of Jerusalem are blocked off. Thousands of Jews from all over have amassed in Geula on Kikar Shabbos. I was part of a multitude of brethren coming to hear the words of Torah leaders mourning the martyred Jews of Mumbai. It is their sh'loshim today. The heavens are drizzling with a cold rainfall as we have stood in the grey evening, mourning our lost ones. Yet, there is something warm in the air, as I realize that we have, at that moment, drawn close as one entity in our own homeland. At our borders, they are shelling us. Across the globe.... well, you who are out there in chutz la'aretz know of your struggles.
Wishing you a good Shabbos, and try to integrate the words of the Ralbag here. D Fox