A Thought on Parshas Vayera

"...'v'hinae ayal achar..." "...and behold! A ram, afterwards, caught..." (22:13) We would not want to go through this parsha without some chidush, some new perspective, on the Akeida. There is so much to understand, so much to learn here. It was the tenth of the trials which Avraham Avinu faced. Incidentally, ibn Shu'aib notes that there are two central lessons taught here: one is that the prophets took their visions very seriously, and believed in them with the same convictions with which they believed in consensual reality. The second lesson is that whatever a prophet was instructed, he acted on immediately without hesitation. This helps us understand how Avraham responded with speed and with alacrity to HaShem's instruction to sacrifice Yitzchak. But now, back to the "chidushim." A point which is pondered by many Rishonim is how HaShem could issue a commandment and then rescind it. Avraham understood that he was meant to sacrifice his son. That was his commandment. How is it, then, that he could then be told not to sacrifice him? Ibn Shu'aib cites many approaches. Some suggest that he was not told to sacrifice, but to "elevate" him on an altar, which he did. Some suggest that he was actually told that he should "raise" his son's stature, but not end his life. Some suggest that the prophecy saying (22:2) that this would happen "on one of the mountains...asher Omer elecha - that I will tell you about" really translates as "if I will tell you"; HaShem did not end up giving the order, so it was only tentative. Others suggest that the word "v'ha'alehu sham la'ola" does not mean "and you will sacrifice him" but rather means "you will sacrifice it", meaning the ram which had been prepared in advance. Each of these approaches were posed by great sages, yet ibn Shu'aib remarks "these are all desperate attempts to explain the passage, when in fact the passage facilely removes the question without any desperation." He explains that the Torah itself (24:1) tells us that this was all a trial, a nisayon. This means Avraham needed to go through this process in order to implant within our nation specific tools. The means were the end, rather than the process being a means to achieve an end result of the sacrifice of Yitzchak. The objective was to negate all adversarial forces against the Jewish nation. Citing a little-known midrash, ibn Shu'aib demonstrates that "whatever Avraham succeeded in uprooting on earth resulted in HaShem uprooting above". What does that mean? Avraham enacted the symbolic annihilation of the entire Jewish people r'l. He did not stall with any question about what would become of HaShem's promise to grant him descendants. He brought his only son to the precipice of extinction, then stopped. This reverberated Above, so that never again would "a final solution" prevail. After the Akeida, HaShem swore that this scene would forevermore be imprinted in reality. At the brink of extinction, there would always come a geula. There would also be an ultimate end to Jewish suffering. Just as Divine intervention blocked this imminent death, Divine forces would forever after stop liquidation of the Jewish nation. The Jewish nation would never be sacrificed into oblivion. Ibn Shu'aib writes that the keren ha'geula - the Horn of Salvation - is hinted at in our verse. When the Torah writes "behold! A ram afterwards", we should read the verse as "and Avraham lifted up his eyes and saw afterwards - in the end of days - when we are caught up in strife and suffering - there will be the two horns of a ram." One horn will be the shofar which we blow on Rosh HaShanna to help release us from the bonds of our misdeeds. The other horn will be the great shofar which shall be sounded on the day we are redeemed from all suffering - yitaka ba'shofar gadol (Yeshayahu 27:13). Speedily in our days. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Lech Lecha

"...v'haKanani v'haPrizi az ba'aretz..." (13:7) ...and the Kananites and the Perizites were in the land then..." Avraham sees that his nephew Lot and his followers are not conducting themselves with proper ethics. He asks them to disaffiliate with his own camp of devoted disciples. The two part ways, and Avraham continues with his Divinely inspired teachings as Lot continues his own decline. The Torah observes meanwhile that the Kanani and Perizi nations were in that area. The placing of the verse, and the verse itself, seems puzzling. Firstly, we know who dwelt in the land of Kanan; obviously it was the people of Kanan! Secondly, we have a prior verse (12:6) which already relates this same fact: the Kanani lived in Kanan (v'haKanani az ba'aretz). Thirdly, what is the contiguity between the verse which highlights the friction between Avraham and Lot and the verse which identifies (again) the local geography and populace? I have found a number of approaches over the years among the writings of the Rishonim. Some have emphasized that the verse intends to relate that those two nations would not allow Avraham into their midst, reasoning that "if he cannot get along with his own nephew, how will he get along with us?" Some interpret the verse as meaning "we don't need people immigrating here who are argumentative." Others learn that the verse means "until the locals had exhausted any residual moral rights they may have had to stay in the land, HaShem would not give it away to Avraham." These are all impressive ways of explaining the verse's message that 'the local nations were still in the land'. However, ibn Shu'aib offers a different spin. He bases it on an ancient midrashic saying, which in Yerushalmi Aramaic goes "tigra bin achya m'siyas bin nuchraia" - when brothers fight, strangers rejoice. Avraham sees that prolonged strife between Lot and himself would signal to the locals that all is not well among us. This leads them to view us as a scourge and as undesirable. They ultimately perceive us as a common enemy, which we know (from l'havdil, sociological theory) will lead to stronger bonds between erstwhile rivals, and even enemies set aside their hatred when they can unite and despise a shared "out group." So, Avraham needed to distance himself from Lot as a means of distancing himself from machlokes. Machlokes among Jews weakens Jews, and fortifies the union formed by our foes. According to ibn Shu'aib, then, the verse not only means something different, but it actually says something different. The word "az", which other Rishonim interpret as a past-tense adverb (the Kanani were, back then, in the land), is used, according to ibn Shu'aib, as a conjunctive adverb: the verse reads "Avraham and Lot were not getting along; the Kanani and Perizi were, then (az), able to reside together in the land." The word "then" in this verse would mean, then, exactly what the word then just meant when I used it just now! When Jews do not get along, our enemies set aside their own differences and bond, even band, against us. Let's stop this, then. Let's stop this now. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Noach

"...va'yachel Noach ish ha'adama va'yita karem..." (9:20) "...and Noah, man of the earth, debased himself and planted a vineyard..." What can be learned from the Torah's retelling the saga of Noach and the wine? It seems somewhat anticlimactic: he has virtually rescued the remnant of humanity and living things from the deluge of destruction. He is a pure and righteous man. He gets out of the Ark and soon after plants a vineyard, beginning again the task of preparing the world for habitation. Then, he gets drunk, is defiled horribly, and the rest is, or becomes, history as well as the conflict-ridden future of civilizations in conflict. Ibn Shuaib suggests that this is to teach us all a "sobering" lesson. He draws on a lesser-known midrash, which relates that as Noach went to plant his grapevines, he experienced an oppositional struggle. The midrash says that rather than set aside (or work past) his conflicts, the internal struggle accompanied him to the field. He offered up, at that moment. some sacrifices. These consisted, curiously, of a lamb, a lion, a monkey and a pig. Now, given that Noach had been instructed in the criteria for "pure animals" and "impure beasts", it seems puzzling that he would select one pure animal followed by three impure choices. Lions? Monkeys? Pigs? Ibn Shuaib darshans that the deeper message of the midrash is to portray a person's relationship with addictive substances, such as wine. The midrash means that as Noach approached the grapes, he may well has been docile, subdued, submissive, devotional, in the same way that a lamb displays such qualities. He may well have looked at wine as a means of further soothing himself, and humanity, in the wake of stress, loss and tragedy. A post-flood drink does not sound like a bad idea at all. It can seem like a remedy for one's intense conflicts and traumas. However, explains ibn Shuaib, when one turns to addiction in attempting to get past his misery and woe, no matter how sincere and soft he is in his first steps, he has entered a deeper stage of conflict. The first drink empowers and invigorates. A person now feels confident, strong and has no fear. He shifts from the lamb to the lion. He sacrifices his contrite meekness and out comes his brashness. This too can be rationalized. Isn't it better to feel strength than to feel humbled and lowly, in the aftermath of trauma? Isn't the lion better equipped than the lamb to fight off trauma? The midrash, in the view of ibn Shuaib, thinks otherwise. Once emboldened by drink, the person begins to disinhibit. His woes suppressed, he veers in the opposite direction, acknowledging no pressures, no limitations, no structure. He now sacrifices the might of confidence for the looseness of being nonsensical. In short, what emerges now is the monkey-like antics of the inebriated person. But this too is temporary. The fun and unbridled acting out soon fades. The drink takes a toll on the person, and disinhibition leads to utter lack of control. He is falling-down drunk. He is no longer conscious of his identity, dignity or responsibility. He sacrifices liberation and collapses into squalor and self-neglect. He is the veritable swine, wallowing in filth and disarray. This is important information, says ibn Shuaib. The Torah informs us of the vain efforts people take to flee from their struggles, rather than seek help from Above. Once we discard the lamb, we lose the lion, we exhaust the monkey, and we are left with the rock-bottom sloth of the chazir. A thought to ponder and appreciate. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Bereishis

"...afar atah v'el afar tashuv..." (3:19) "...you are dust and shall return to dust..." The Torah wants us to accept that mortal man comprises a physical, tangible body and a separate transcendent other-worldly soul. The mortal aspect is introduced in our verse - tangible man will return to dust. The transcendent aspect is hinted at in the use of the word "va'ye'hi" in the verse (2:7) "va'ye'hi ha'adam l'nefesh chaya" - 'and the first man existed as a live soul'. What is unique about this word "va'yehi"? The only other feature of Creation which is depicted with the term "va'ye'hi" is the supernal light, where the Torah says (1:3) "va'ye'hi or"- 'and light existed'. HaShem declared "ye'hi or" and then that light came into existence with "va'ye'hi or". This form of the word "to be" means "to exist", which signals endurance and permanence. The supernal light exists and was present in Genesis and continues to radiate in the high heavens. The heavens themselves, which by definition endure forever, are also depicted as "ye'hi" (1:6). Now, notice that the Torah never says during the sixth day of creation "va'ye'hi adam" - and man came into existence. This is because man, the person, does not exist for eternity. The mortal body does not endure forever. This is the meaning of our verse above which declares that tangible man is mortal and returns to dust. However, later in the Torah, well after the six days of creation were complete, we do find our verse declaring "va'ye'hi" with reference to man's enduring living soul. Only things that last are described this way, as "existing." The luminaries and the firmaments exist and endure forever, which is why they are portrayed as "ye'hi". The worldly, mundane creations are not depicted with "va'yehi" because their role and function is limited to corporeality, not to an enduring existence. The human creation is expected to make an lasting impression on this world and this life form, but also to have an enduring role in the next world, which is purely spiritual. This is why the mortal man is introduced without the word "va'ye'hi" but the immortal soul is in fact introduced as "va'ye'hi." The mortal aspect of man comes from dust and will return to dust. The soul is entrusted to us in order that we live in a manner which will promote our soul's eternity, living on beyond form and matter. That is the only authentic mode of existence. Good Shabbos. D Fox

Rabbeinu Yehoshua Ibn Shuaib

A Thought on Parshas Bereishis In my ongoing hunt for Rishonim on Chumash, I returned once again to Jerusalem, having exhausted my searches in other places. This summer, while strolling through the streets of Meah She'arim after a wonderful day on the Bais Din, I decided to go back to the small shop where I had found, twelve months before, the commentary of the Gan, whose works we just completed. I figured that my unplanned wandering into that place had paid off once before, so I opted to try it again. Once more, I walked to a shelf and this time, about knee high, I saw an unfamiliar set of two red volumes. I got them off the shelf and once again, I felt that the bracha of Jerusalem was there for me. I had a "new" Rishon. This commentary is by a Spanish scholar from early in the 13th century. He was a disciple of the Rashba - Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Aderet - and although little is known of his life, he was apparently a respected scholar, versed in all of the revealed and hidden facets of Torah. He may have come from Tudela, in the province of Navarra, places which are known to us today only because they are mentioned from time to time by early scholars as having been seats of Torah learning before the Inquisition. In style, he seems to me similar to Rabbeinu Yona of Gerona (who was the Rashba's mentor) , whose works I studied early on when first composing these parsha emails. That similarity lies in his addressing each parsha in its entirety, rather than verse-by-verse, in drasha form: he looks at the homiletic lessons and values which we can derive from the events of each passage. Another nuance I have begun noticing in the short amount of time in which I have been studying this Rishon is his grappling to derive messages from word-usage, word-positioning and midrashic or kabbalistic inferences from the words. This discovery will likely be a challenge; may it be a rewarding and an enlightening one iyH. So, allow me to introduce the commentary with whom we shall spend hours of labor and delight. Our Rishon for the year 5776 is Rabbeinu Yehoshua ibn Shuaib. Like ibn Ezra, ibn Gabirol, ibn Tibbon and ibn Migash, this is a sage whose name bespeaks his family's sojourn in Moorish Spain. A man often took on the name of his father or of a great patriarchal figure in his family. Whereas today's Jewish men (I will use my name as an example) have names such as Dovid Zalman ben Gershon (my father should have a refuah sheleimah), in earlier times and in Iberia, I might have been ibn Gershon. Let us begin to study Drashos Rabbeinu Yehoshua ibn Shuaib.

A Thought on Parshas Haazinu

"...Yatzev gevulos amim l'mispar Benei Yisroel..." (32:8) "...He set the borders of the nations according to the number of Israel..." The reference to a 'number' in our verse is obscure. What does the Torah mean here, that the "borders of the nations equaled the number of the children of Israel"? Rashi and others interpret it as a similarity between the 70 nations and the 70 members of Jacob's family who descended to Egypt. The Gan offers another angle, one that addresses both the number mystery, as well as the reference to "borders of nations." We know that HaShem declared that Kanaan, a grandson of Noach through his son Cham, would serve the children of Shem, who was the ancestor of the Jewish nation. We know that during the years prior to the Exodus, the "Land of Kanaan" was occupied by "the seven Kananite nations." However, if we pay attention to some verses in Bereishis (10:15-18), the Torah enumerates the names of the descendants of Kanaan - Tzidoni, Chiti, Yevusi, Emori, Girgashi, Chivi, Arki, Sini, Arvadi, Tzmari, Chamasi. That equals eleven tribes, not seven. Elsewhere (13:7) we learn that there was yet another tribe, the Perizi, whom the Gan says was a split off from one of those other tribes of Kanaan. That makes 12 Kananite nations. So, when we think about the "seven nations", we think about the ones mentioned so many times in the Torah, such as in a verse which we recite every morning near the end of pesukei d'zimra - "eretz ha'Kanani, haChiti, ha'Emori, v'haPrizi, v'haYevusi, v'haGirgashi" (which equal six), and at times a different verse will mention the Chivi, which makes seven. Apparently, some of those nations were great and mighty, and some of them were less populated. The fact that some are mentioned more often than others in citing those who occupied the "Land of Kanaan" may attest to this. There were the major tribes, and the lesser ones. The reality is, however, that the Land was actually occupied by twelve Kananite tribal factions. Why was this? The Gan explains. When the Jewish people eventually ascended from Egypt to claim their Promised Land, there may have been nations who contested their right to the land. The Kananites, however, knew their own legacy, as the servants to Uncle Shem. They were not as absolute in contesting our right to return to our territory, which they had been occupying for half a millennium. They knew of their status as our vassals, and of the principle of "mah sh'kana eved kana rabo". Meanwhile, the land had been consigned to Kanaan during the centuries when our own nation was still developing. HaShem allotted those twelve Kananite factions twelve provinces within the territory. When the Jewish people reclaimed their Promised Land, each of our twelve tribes moved into one of the twelve provinces formerly occupied by one of those Kananite tribes. HaShem in essence saw to it that each province would be occupied, cared for, and developed by homesteading Kananites so that each province would be ready to accommodate the Jews who would take up residency there. HaShem kept the land "safe" and "bounded" for us. This, then, is what our verse might mean: "HaShem set up the borders of (the 12 Kananite) nations so that they would equal the number of the (12 tribes) of Israel." That should keep us occupied. Good Shabbos! D Fox The Gan was written by 13th century Rabbeinu Aharon ben Yosi haCohen, Baal Tosfos More pirushim presented by Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox at http://thoughtonparsha.blogspot.com/

A Thought on Parshas Vayelech

"...rabos ra'os v'tzaros..." "...many bad times and troubles..." (31:17 & 21) The Torah is explicit in its descriptions of what can befall us in exile. The further we stray from Torah, the further HaShem seems to us. The more we fragment from the Jewish nation, the more we are alienated by others. There are many bad times and many troubles that we have faced in exile, for centuries. We have endured pogroms, we have been expelled, we have been victims of inquisitions, crusades, ghettoes, concentration camps and discrimination. And we have attempted to escape it all by assimilation only to find that we still fail, either disappearing entirely into loss of values and of identity, or finding that even with our attempt to recreate ourselves as non-Jews, the world still casts us out by exposing our Jewishness. Our verse seems a bit redundant. "Many bad times" seems all inclusive. "Troubles" seems repetitive, adding nothing new than what was already subsumed under "many bad times." What is the difference, then, between the two negative tidings? The Gan helps out with this. He cites a Talmudic statement (Chagiga 5a) that describes a wasp attack and a scorpion bite. Both cause pain but both require different treatments. One needs hot water and one needs cold. Whatever helps one of the wounds irritates the other one. So, the victim is stuck. He has two injuries but can really heal neither of them for fear of complications. So too, the Gan muses, is our experience in exile: if we are harassed by an adversary and we cry out, we get no pity or protection, and are hated more for trying to draw attention to the injustice we are shown. Yet, if we do not stand up and protest, we encourage our adversaries to continue their campaign of prejudice and assault. So, says the Gan, this is the ominous message of our verse. In exile, we will face many bad times. The trouble comes when we attempt to respond to our plight. Reacting brings more oppression. Passivity encourages more aggression. Such is the reality of being a small nation dispersed among the nations. That is exile.. May our prayers for solidarity, for unity, for identity and for redemption be answered during these Days of Repentance. May this new year 5776 be the year of our rescue from exile and our return to the Promised Land with peace, health and celebration. Gmar chasima tova. Good Shabbos. D Fox