Category: Torah portions of the Week

Rabbi Meir Simcha of Divinsk asks why Sodom seems to have been treated unfairly in comparison to Nineveh. In the book of Jonah, the Hebrew prophet comes to the sinful city of Nineveh, a non-Jewish city, and warns them that they will be destroyed in 40 days. Immediately, every resident of Nineveh, from the King to the simplest peasant, is wearing sackcloth and fasting in repentance. Why, asks Rabbi Meir Simcha, were the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah also not warned? Why were they not given a chance to repent just like Nineveh was?

There is a Mishna in which the teacher, Rabbi Johanon Ben Zakai, sends his five disciples out to discover "the path that a man should choose." The five students return with five answers. A good eye, a good friend, a good neighbor, someone who sees the consequences, and a good heart. Rabbi Johanon chooses the final answer, "because all the other answers are included in it."

He then sends them to discover "the path that a man should distance himself from." The answers include: an evil eye, a bad friend, a bad neighbor, someone who borrows and does not repay, and a bad heart. Again, Rabbi Johanon prefers the all-inclusive "bad heart" response.

I believe that this Mishna could easily refer to the people of Sodom. Our sages paint a picture of a town where no charity, no kindness is allowed. "What's mine is mine, what's yours is yours." On the surface, this seems reasonable, but in truth it is evil. The Torah says of the people of Sodom, "They are bad and sinful to the Lord exceedingly." "Bad," in Jewish parlance, refers to separation, division, disunity. A person with a bad heart views every other human with suspicion and jealousy, or, perhaps even worse, with complete lack of care or empathy.

Rabbi Meir Simcha answers his own question by claiming that Sodom, indeed, had been warned. The shape of that warning, however, differed from Nineveh. God sought to deliver the best possible warning, that would have the greatest chance of being accepted. And there was another agenda: to ascertain whether there were at least 10 righteous people in the city. Remember, God had promised Abraham that if that were the case, he would not destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.

So when and how did the people of Sodom received their warning and their last chance to repent? The warning was delivered by Lot, Abraham's nephew who resided in Sodom. The Angels told Lot to inform his sons-in-law of the impending destruction of the city. He was to convince them to leave town, together with himself and his family. In other words, this was a test of their character. Here was a family member, clearly with their best interests at heart, urging them to save their lives. All they had to do was leave town for a day. What was their response?

"And he (or 'it') was like a joke (or 'joker') in their eyes." That was it. They failed the test. Had they passed it, adding them together with Lot and his family, there might have been those 10 righteous people needed to save the whole town.

Why did they fail? Because they had a bad heart. Henny Youngman's doctor would proclaim that they could not stand. You see, a person with a bad heart automatically rejects other people. The fourth response for Rabbi Johanon's students calls for one who "sees the consequences." This could be translated as meaning "one who looks at the products, and not the producer." A person should always look at the message, and not reject it just because the messenger is distasteful to him.

The people of Nineveh, clearly, were in possession of great hearts. The most unlikely messenger was sent to them, the religious Jewish prophet Jonah. How could he have any influence in Nineveh? And yet, he uttered one simple sentence: "40 more days and Nineveh will be destroyed." It was like pushing a button. The entire city repented completely! Their hearts were wide open, they looked at the product, not the producer. They were willing to change.

In Sodom, however, their hearts were so closed that even the best messenger – their own family – became a "joker."

The moral of the story, is that the real sodomy was the small minded closed heart of an entire city that had gone bad. We need to have our own hearts checked, to make sure that we rejoice when others succeed, that we jump to help when we hear of someone in distress, and that we truly feel that other people are the blessing of our lives. If we have those things, even though we may not be perfect in other aspects, we can be sure to see God's blessing.

There are two Rebukes in the Torah. The first one, at the end of the book of Leviticus, is read on the penultimate Sabbath before the holiday of Shavuot. It is limited in scope and structured in groups of seven. There are seven levels of transgression listed at the beginning, and God repeats variations on the phrase, "if you shall be contrary, I will torment you sevenfold for all of your sins," seven times.

That Rebuke concludes with a prophecy of redemption. "I will remember the covenant of your forefathers…"

The one in Deuteronomy, however, begins with one general sin: "And if you do not listen to the voice of the Lord your God to guard and to do the commandments and rules which I command you this day…" As the frightening descriptions of what will befall the people should they reject the Torah continue, there is no further reference to Israel sinning or to a sevenfold punishment as retribution for those sins. It is simply a chaotic mix of calamity after calamity. There is disease, there is war, there is famine and drought. On and on it goes, and when we get to the end of it, there is no optimistic final note. "God will return you to Egypt and you will be sold as slaves there to your enemies yet no one will purchase you."

Why these differences from the first Rebuke? And how is this an appropriate preparation for Rosh Hashanah?

Immediately prior to the Rebuke, the Israelites are commanded to make a pilgrimage to the area of Shechem where the twin Mountains of Gerizim and Eval are located. Half of the tribes are to ascend Mount Gerizim and the other half are to ascend Mount Eval. The Levites are then to recite the blessings and the curses resulting from observance or nonobservance of the Torah which the people are to affirm.

Now, the Israelites entered the land from the East and were quite some distance from Shechem. There are plenty of locations where two adjacent mountains could serve the purpose much closer to where the nation was camped. Why make them make the journey into the heartland for this ceremony when they will need to return to the Jordan Valley the very same day?

The answer to all of these questions lies in the three main relationships that every Jew must have: 1. To God. 2. To the Land of Israel. 3. To each other – the Jewish nation. When one or more of these relationships are lacking, bad things happen. But not all bad things are created equal, and not all of these relationships are of equal influence on the others.

Many commentaries view the two Rebukes as referring to the two destructions of Jerusalem and the Temple. Our rabbis tell us that because the sins of the first Temple period were known explicitly, their punishment was made explicit and finite. That exile lasted only 70 years, similar to the first Rebuke which has a clear beginning and end.

What were the sins that led to that first destruction? Our sages tell us that they were idolatry, bloodshed, and sexual corruption and adultery. The Torah itself implies that violation of the Sabbatical Year was a sin which brought about exile. Other teachings of the rabbis point to a cessation of learning and a disrespect of Torah scholars.

All of these things imply a rupture in our relationship to God (the idolatry and dismissal of Torah study) and to the Land of Israel (profaning of the sabbatical year). With all of these things, it seems that Jewish peoplehood remained intact. Although the people were sinning, they were still proudly Jewish and did not turn their backs on each other. (The sin of bloodshed may be referring to the assassination of Gedalia or other high profile murders that did not reflect a general abandonment of Israeli nation.)

The second Rebuke, which parallels the destruction of the second Temple, implies a violation of the third critical relationship of the Jew, his membership in Israel. This is a much more serious offense. If the people are still united, there is always hope that they will repent their sins against God and His Land. If they are not, if their identity becomes erased, how will they ever return?

Why did the Israelites have to go all the way to Shechem for the blessings and curses? One Rabbi suggests that it was to follow in the footsteps of Abraham who went to "The place of Shechem" upon his entry to the land. I would like to suggest that they went to the area where Joseph was sold by his brothers into slavery. This was the scene of the greatest moment of Jewish disunity, an event that would spiritually haunt the people well into the future.

When Jews do not have each other, they also do not have God or their Land. They are left to the vagaries of a hostile and uncivilized world. The second Rebuke is random, terrifying, unending.

But there is a small light at the end. "You will be offered for sale to your enemies, yet no one will purchase you." A Jew may seek to forget his Jewishness and exchange his nationhood for some other nationality. God is telling us that such an abandonment can never succeed. "They will not buy you." The Jew can never become a full Spaniard, Frenchman, Russian, Englishman or even American. He will remain a Jew, and because of that he will never lose hope to reconnect and be restored.

Perhaps this is why the first Rebuke in Leviticus is phrased in the plural tense. The Rebuke of Deuteronomy is addressed to the individual. If he has cut himself off from his people, he is all alone. But when we are together, no matter how bad the moment, we can quickly return to "The covenant of the forefathers."

The secret of Rosh Hashanah is reestablishing relationships. The most important of those is our relationship with our nation and our Jewish identity. When we fix that, the sages tell us that "the previous year and all of its curses shall end, and a new year with all of its blessings shall commence!"

Two things would happen to the Levite guard who fell asleep on watch. He would be beaten by a stick and his clothing would be burnt. The latter punishment is a unique one! Why burn his clothing?

Korach, a wealthy and influential Levite, rebels against Moses and Aaron. He gathers around him 250 members of the tribes of Levy and Reuben to support him in his attack on Moses. They complained that,"The entire congregation is holy so why do you raise yourselves up above them?" In other words, Korach is seeking the high priesthood and his 250 cohorts are seeking the right to serve in the Tabernacle as Kohanim, even though they are not.

Moses then instructs them all to bring incense as a test to determine the justice of their argument. He warns the people of an additional punishment, a miracle involving the earth opening up and swallowing Korach and his immediate partners Datan and Aviram, should God deem their rebellion to be false. The end result was that Korach, his family and his friends, were indeed swallowed up. At the same time the 250 men who had brought the incense in hopes of gaining the status of Kohanim were consumed by fire and died.

The people then complain that Moses has killed God's people! Some commentaries explain that Moses was culpable because he did not warn the 250 incense bringers that doing so carried with it the danger of death. Moses had warned Korach about the earth opening, so why not warn the 250 about the fire that may come from the incense?

God is displeased with this accusation against Moses and smites the people with a plague. Moses immediately dispatches Aaron with incense, the same material, which then stops the plague and saves the rest of the people's lives.

Why, though, is their claim incorrect? Why did Moses not warn the 250 people? Maybe some of them would have refrained from bringing the incense and thus been saved.

Furthermore, one could ask what exactly was wrong with 250 people wanting to be Kohanim? They saw their brothers serving in the Tabernacle performing holy tasks and wanted to have the same opportunity! They desired sanctity, it would seem.

The question centers around the role of the Temple incense in this whole story. The first time we encounter the danger of bringing unauthorized incense was back in Leviticus when Nadav and Avihu died while bringing "a strange fire which was not commanded them." They brought incense. The people saw that incense brought improperly can bring punishment by fiery death. That was their warning. The 250 people should have known that what happened to Nadav and Avihu would happen to them.

And it is the same incense which Aaron used to stop the plague and to save lives. So what is the nature of this incense?

It has a few qualities worth noting. First of all, it is silent. It communicates through aroma, not through words and speeches. Our sages teach us that the incense atoned for evil speak. "Let something which is quiet atone for a sin which is committed in whispers." The incense gives expression to what is happening on the inside of a person, not just the outside.

Secondly, the incense has the aspect of unity. It is not made of one aromatic spice but rather 11 ingredients. Some of them are bitter on their own but add sweetness when combined with others. Our sages compare the galbanum spice to the sinners of Israel who, nonetheless, must join together with all of their nation to create the sweetest aroma. The incense represents unity.

Unity comes about when each individual does not look at him or herself as important because of who they are but because of what they do in the world. When elections come around, some candidates spend time and money telling you how qualified and smart they are. Others will focus more on what they plan to do. Does somebody want to be president, or do they want to lead the nation? Those are two separate things and that is a critical question.

When we focus on who we are as opposed to what we do, we create the conditions that lead to great division. Identity should come through actions and contributions to the world, not through ethnicity or social status or association or any external factor. If I am important for who I am, then others who are similar to me become a threat. Notice how Korach does not say "Let us be Kohanim as well!" Instead, he says "Why should you exalt yourself above the congregation?" Moses and Aaron should step down is what he is saying.

This is what the incense tests. Nadav and Avihu were exceedingly holy and their sin was that they knew it and sought to cement that status by bringing their own unique incense. The incense destroyed them. The 250 Kohain wannabes were not seeking the opportunity to do holy work, they were seeking the status of being Kohanim. The incense revealed what was inside them and destroyed them.

This is why the clothing of the sleepy Levite would be burned. If he were truly committed to honoring God by providing honor guard for the Sanctuary, he would never allow himself to doze. If he is just interested in the honor himself, then his clothing symbolizes that. That is why it gets burned: to teach him that it is not who he is that matters but rather what he does.

When a person is focused on doing good they will rejoice when others do good as they do. There will be unity. When they focus on being important, they will feel threatened and resentful towards other people deemed important. When we focus on contribution, not identity, we will contribute unity to the world.

In the book of Numbers, the people of Israel are poised to enter The Holy Land. In order to best prepare to conquer the land, they request that Moses, the leader, send some spies in advance. Moses is pleased that the people are preparing to take possession of their homeland, and agrees to the people's request.

The result is a tragedy. 10 of the 12 spies bring back a devastating report, frightening the people into giving up on their dream of The Land of Israel. "We saw giants there, and we were like little bugs in their eyes. We cannot conquer the land." Only two of the spies, Caleb and Joshua, tried to change the people's fears into optimism. Based on the commentary of Rashi, here is what they said:

"Is that all that Moses has done for us? Did he not split the sea as we left Egypt? Was he not God's messenger and assistant, helping us get the manna in the wilderness? We can certainly conquer the land, and even if Moses told us to go at the moon, we could do it!"

It didn't work. The people sat down to cry, and that date became a day of national mourning -- the ninth of Av, the date of the destruction of both Holy Temples in Jerusalem. God decreed that that entire generation should pass on in the desert, and only their children would enter the Holy Land. Until then, 40 years down the line, the Israelites would wander in the desert.

It's among the most difficult stories in the Bible, both emotionally, and intellectually. After all, Joshua and Caleb were right! If Moses, acting as God's chosen messenger, was able to split the sea, why should the Israelites be afraid of large Canaanites? Egypt was the dominant empire of the age, and they proved no match for the children of Israel and their God. Why the fear?

Playing devil's advocate, I will also ask why the extreme punishment? Why 40 years wandering, and why give a dark legacy to the ninth of Av? After all, the people were in a panic! It wasn't a premeditated sin like the Golden Calf! When a person hears that is going to be attacked by giants, it is reasonable for him to be afraid, is it not?

The answer is, if you are the Jewish people, it is not reasonable to be afraid. Being brave, taking action despite the seeming impossibility of the mission is the very essence of the children of Israel. Without it, their national purpose will never be achieved. Israel is compared to a lone sheep amongst 70 wolves. The situation seems impossible, but it is exactly what is required. The most destructive emotion to a person's sense of mission is the emotion of fear. And often quoted Hasidic rabbi said, "All the world is a narrow bridge, and the main thing is never to fear!"

Fear bypasses logic. Panic causes a terrible mistakes. We love watching superheroes function with tremendous calm in situations of tremendous stress and danger. Deep inside our hearts, we yearn to have that courage and be heroes. God created each and everyone of us to be a hero, to not be afraid of changing our lives and our world. Think about the fighters in the Warsaw ghetto. They held off the overwhelmingly powerful German army, with small arms and guerrilla tactics alone, for nearly a month! That small band of starved Jewish fighters kept the Germans on the field longer than the entire Polish army had at the beginning of the war.

That's heroism, and that is the definition of the people of Israel. We must be a nation of heroes. The symbol of our mission was the Holy Temple, the place where Heaven and Earth met. What happens there? The spiritual perfection of Heaven enters the physical and imperfect world. It then elevates all who come in contact with this Divine Heavenly Presence. The spirit is always more powerful than the body. That is the core of our belief.

If you do not believe that the spirit is more powerful, then the presence of giants in the land of Canaan will indeed induce fear. And fear, as we have said, closes the heart to any reasoning. Moses's accomplishments notwithstanding, the people were afraid and would respond to no argument. Thus, they discarded the power of spirituality. Without that, they could never hope to accomplish their mission.

Great accomplishments come from asking a simple question: How to do it? Not "can it be done?" An attitude of "why not?" is the most can-do attitude, and shows tremendous spiritual power. So instead of suffering silent desperation, we should realize our tremendous mutual power to change, to make what our true essence demands of us come to be.

The section of the Torah we read this week deals with the laws of leprosy. A person who develops a white patch on their skin, with white hair in it, Is considered impure, and must wait outside the camp until he is healed. If, however, the whiteness spreads all over their entire body, he is considered ritually pure. The commentaries jump up and down about this strange law! If, they reason, when only part of the leper's body has the white patches, is he considered impure, then when his entire body becomes white he should certainly be considered impure!

The famed Chofetz Chaim offers a powerful explanation. God sends a message to someone who needs to hear it. A person who has only partial leprosy may convince themselves that they are not so spiritually ill. After all, most of their body may be clean. Thus, they will not be motivated to repent. The Torah then requires them to be sent out of the camp pending an improvement. Being sent out of the camp, into solitary existence, forces introspection and repentance.

But when a person has reached the bottom, they don't require such messages to know that they must repent. Therefore, the person who becomes 100% leprous, will be in such a state of mind that they do not need to be sent to solitary. They have hit rock bottom, they know that it is either repent or die.

This helps me understand a very difficult concept in the world: the suffering of the righteous and the prospering of the evil. The rabbis explain that a suffering righteous person is not 100% righteous. (A righteous person who is prospering is, however, 100% righteous). On the other end, a prospering evildoer must be less than 100% evil.

This still seems illogical. Why should a mostly evil person have a far better existence than a mostly righteous person? Rather, our sages explain, this calculation is all in preparation for The World to Come, when all accounts are set straight. The mostly righteous person has some sins to expiate, and so God brings suffering upon him in this world, so that he will arrive unblemished at The World to Come. Conversely, the mostly evil person still has some good deeds to his credit. God rewards him in this world, so that he will pay for his evil actions in the afterlife.

If, however, we are dealing with people in the gray areas, where is the dividing line? I would speculate that it is in the person's heart, and in what contribution they make to humanity. A war criminal who helps his neighbors and is philanthropic should be shunned as a leper and punished for his crimes. A comedian who brings cheer and joy to millions, but cheats on their taxes and on their spouse, should be respected and loved for the good things he does, and censured (and prosecuted, if appropriate) for the crimes he commits.

There are many public figures who have contributed so much to the world, yet have personal flaws that have also hurt people. The laws of Lashon Hara teach us that telling something negative about another, even if it is true, is forbidden. Why? Because the person who hears such talk will judge the entire person based on that one negative aspect, and shun their humanity entirely. I believe that is wrong. Whether it be a political leader, brilliant film director or a legendary entertainer, we do not need to throw them out with their misdeeds. The great Rabbi Moses Feinstein was asked about a certain Rabbi who wrote music, yet behaved in seemingly inappropriate ways at times. Rabbi Feinstein responded that, "a melody does not become impure."

Such a person can, indeed, be considered a righteous person, albeit not 100%. We must be very careful before we throw out some of the wonderful people who have made our world a better place. Yes, some of their personal deeds may be disgusting and evil, and there is no tolerance for such actions. But, as King David says, "The sins shall perish from the earth, and they (the sinners) will be evil no longer."

So Israel is not perfect, but it is most certainly righteous. The incredible amount of goodness that Israel creates and contributes to the world is the proof. Does she occasionally pursue bad policies? Have there not been moments when Israelis have done shameful things? Certainly. You may disagree with our government policy at times, as most of us do, but you must cherish and love Israel, one of the greatest forces for good in the world.

Israel's national anthem, Hatikvah, was a song with plenty of controversy. It remains scrupulously secular, with no mention of God or the Divine Providence that helped bring our nation back to life. The composer was not a legendary poet, famous composer or spiritual leader.

Contrast that with the alternative national anthem, that lost by just one vote in the 1933 Zionist Congress, the Shir HaMaalot made famous by Cantor Yoselle Rosenblatt. Here was a song with words by none other than King David himself! And the melody, composed by a Cantor named Minkowsky and sang by the pious Cantor Rosenblatt, had every element of holiness you could ask for. It was the equivalent of a 100% righteous person.

And yet, Hatikvah won. Perhaps this was also Divine Providence, to encourage us to embrace the very human of us, and strengthen the good within us. Perhaps our focus should not be on worshiping those that are perfect, but helping perfect those that are not. Perhaps we need to stop judging, and start loving.

The story of the 10 plagues has a comic relief: Pharaoh's magicians. This bunch of hapless sorcerers make four appearances during the 10 plagues. The first two, blood and frogs, they are able to replicate. This serves to harden Pharaoh's heart, as it diminishes the supernatural aspect of those plagues. Pharaoh is not impressed, since human magicians can do these things too.

The third plague, lice, marks a turning point. Bringing lice out of the dust of the earth proves to be too much for the magicians. They are unable to replicate it, and thus they proclaim, "It is the finger of God." (They make one more nonappearance in the story, at the plague of boils. There, we are told that they were unable to even stand in front of Pharaoh, as they were afflicted as well.)

Let's focus on lice. Two things puzzle me. First of all, the obvious question of why were the magicians unable to create lice, if they were able to replicate the first two plagues? What was so difficult? Secondly, the plague of lice was to be initiated by Aaron striking the dust. Why not Moses?

Rashi answers both questions. As for the magicians, Rashi tells us that their powers are limited to objects larger in size than a grain of barley. Since lice are smaller, the magicians were unable to influence them. And as for Aaron hitting the dirt in place of Moses, it was because of gratitude. The dirt of Egypt had saved Moses, as it concealed the Egyptian whom he had killed. Therefore, Moses had to demonstrate gratitude to the dirt by not being the one to strike it.

Both of Rashi's answers bring up new questions. Why can't the magicians function when their subject is smaller than a barley grain? What difference does it make? And why is Moses obligated to show sensitivity to dirt, an inanimate object without feelings?

Let's tackle the second question first. Jews cover the challah on Friday night while they make kiddush on a cup of wine. Do you know why they do that? It's because, in theory, challah could also have been used for kiddush, in place of wine. Since the wine is getting the honor, the challah might be embarrassed. So we cover it.

Now the same question applies! Challah is inanimate, it has no feelings. What are we protecting? My teacher, Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik, explained that we are protecting our own character. By showing sensitivity towards inanimate objects, we are training ourselves to show sensitivity to our fellow human beings. In other words, we are chiseling our character traits to the finest detail. We are expelling insensitivity from our souls, even as it relates to inanimate objects.

This is the reason why Moses could not strike the sand. It is because Judaism requires tremendous detail in the shaping of our character. Each word of the prayer service should be said carefully, each requirement of every mitzva should be fulfilled with great attention. Does God really care about that? Yes, he does, because it is through those details that become more and more spiritual. Spirituality is the ladder to reach and connect with God. And God really cares that we connect with Him!

I always wondered how glue worked. After all, two smooth surfaces should not be able to be connected to each other without a nail or screw. How does glue, a liquid that will dry just as flat as the surfaces, actually hold them together?

It's two things: the details and the large surface area. The seemingly flat surface is actually porous, and it is the nature of the glue to enter those pores and then clasp them. Secondly, unlike a nail or a screw which connect one or two points, glue must be spread out across the whole surface to be most effective. And thus, the verse "And you, who are glued to God your Lord are alive today!" takes on significant meaning. We are glued to God by the details of our mitzva observance and spirituality, and by our total commitment of our lives to these things. The details and the totality, together.

Impressionistic art notwithstanding, we are always moved by a beautiful portrait or scenic painting. The more detail, the more realistic the painting and the more we enjoy it. God created a world full of details, down to the smallest things. Ever sit and watch an ant doing its work? It's miniature, but it's beautiful and fascinating. The more spiritual, the more detailed and thorough.

The physical world, however, likes big. Hedonists always want more. Pharaoh's magicians came with the power of the physical world. And earthly magic requires earthly materials, not spiritual ones. The spiritual materials are minute, detailed. A physical magician has no power over spirituality. Thus, they couldn't manipulate lice or anything smaller than a certain size.

When a Jew observes the minutia with great care, he or she is climbing the ladder of spirituality and touching the gateway to heaven. The higher one climbs, the more careful their footing must be. God wants us to enjoy the full beauty of this world, a physical space where one must seek spirituality in the details, in the little things. "The rock [the Painter] creates perfect work…". God is the cosmic painter, painting in a level of detail that is the magnificent world we live in. By paying attention to details, we see more of God's glory and climb the ladder to spirituality.

So never be defensive if someone asks you if you think God really cares. Answer that He does, because He wants us to be spiritually powerful, and capable of appreciating the full incredible beauty of all of creation.

There are two main differences between this 10th plague and the nine that preceded it that I wish to focus on. First of all, in all of the other plagues, the Israelites were spared automatically. For this one, though, they are given explicit instructions as to what they must do to be spared. They have to prepare a sacrificial lamb, smear the blood on their door posts and lintels, and eat the sacrifice together with matza and bitter herbs. Further, they must eat it in a state of readiness to depart, with staff in hand.

The second difference is that this plague is preceded by a number of seemingly tangential commandments, especially the one about tefillin, or, phylacteries. These are small boxes containing chapters from the Torah that are tied onto the arm and the forehead during prayer services.

Why these differences? Why is it so critical for the Israelites to perform this sacrificial ritual, and what is the relevance of the commandment of tefillin?

God does not engage in punishment as vengeance. When there is divine punishment, it is didactic. It is to teach man to correct his ways. Jewish tradition teaches that God's punishments are "measure for measure," meaning that they directly address the sinful attitude of the transgressor. This is no more apparent than in the most famous of Biblical dictums on Justice: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a leg for a leg, and so forth.

In many parts of the world, this principle is interpreted literally, and that is a tragedy. Jewish law states that what is required by this dictum is monetary compensation, not the amputation of the limb of the aggressor. Simple justice requires this understanding! Let's say, for example, that a singer cut off the hand of a pianist. Is justice served by cutting off the hand of the singer? The pianist has lost his livelihood, while the singer can continue unharmed! That is not justice.

But there is a more fundamental understanding of this dictum that we must learn. It is that punishment is not vengeance. Those who interpret this literally make a tragic mistake, understanding punishment as a form of doing to the aggressor what he did to the victim. He caused the victim great pain, so he should suffer accordingly. What this understanding says is that the past is what matters. A. caused B. to suffer in the immediate past, so he must suffer as well.

That is not what the Torah teaches. When we evaluate the monetary worth of the severed limb, and require the perpetrator to pay that, we are stressing two things. First of all, that the future is the most important element. The aggressor has denied the victim their capabilities for the future, and it is that which must be compensated. Secondly, it focuses the aggressor on what he has done to the victim. He must think of how he has changed that person's life. We have suddenly moved our focus from the perpetrator himself to the other, to the victim.

Now we can explain the plague of the firstborn in greater depth. Egypt was a completely self-absorbed nation. It was the home of all manner of sexual licentiousness, and a pagan belief system that elevated material possessions and wealth and power. It was a society that lived for pleasure, that lived for today. This goes in direct opposition to human nature.

Human nature is built upon planting trees, upon beautifying the world for others, for the future. Our spirit drives us to sacrifice our rest and sloth to go out and build something for posterity. For this, our children are not only recipients, but transmitters into the continuing future. We are not to teach them to pursue pleasure, we are to teach them to pursue responsibility and posterity.

The Egyptians taught their children something else. They taught them hedonism, materialism, pursuit of fleeting pleasures and possessions. God brought the 10th plague, the slaying of the firstborn, as a lesson to the Egyptians: by living your lives according to your false values, you have spiritually killed your own children.

We see in the world around us tragic examples of child destruction in a spiritual sense. How can we watch the Isis terrorists teaching young children to kill without our feeling deep sadness and revulsion? And if those children get killed in some future battle, who are the real killers? I would say the grown-ups who trained them to walk down that tragic path.

Thus, the Israelites must prepare for this plague as well by reaffirming their commitment to the future. They are to eat the Passover sacrifice in readiness to march, staff in hand. This entire ritual is to cause them to embrace the future, to commit to transmitting their spiritual heritage to their children, their children's children, and beyond, into eternity. By doing this, they save their firstborn spiritually, and they are spared the plague of the Egyptians.

What is the legacy they are to transmit? In one word, Torah. God's Word is the spiritual life of the universe. The tefillin, with the four chapters of Torah within them, must be tied upon our arms and our heads. They must guide our actions and our thoughts. They are the keys to the future, they are the keys to giving spiritual life to our children. The answers to all of life's mysteries and questions can be found in the Torah, but only by delving deep into its secrets. This commitment is what gives us life, and what gives us true meaning.

When Moses meets God at the burning bush, he asks Him a strange question: "When the Israelites asked me what is Your Name, what should I tell them?" God then responds, "I Shall Be that I Shall Be. Thus you shall tell the children of Israel, I Shall Be has sent me to you."

This is a strange kind of a name! Now, I wasn't expecting "Charlie", but I was expecting one of the Names of God that we frequently use. This is more of a statement of how God will continue to exist in the world, but it's not a name! God will be present, God will be existing. Is that actually a name?

The book of Exodus, in Hebrew, is called the book of Shemot, which means "names." It is the book of names, and it is full of them. The Rabbis of the Midrash teach us that a person has three names: 1. The name that God gives us. 2. The name that our parents give us. 3. The name that we give ourselves.

I believe this is teaching us a very significant lesson for life. The name that God gives us is not a name in the traditional sense. I believe it refers to the unique skills and gifts that God imbues each of his creations with. It is our talents and our abilities, our genetic makeup.

The name that our parents give us refers to our education and upbringing. Parents generally give a name to a child expressing their hopes and aspirations for that child. They will follow up the giving of the name with the years of education and teaching to help the child fulfill that name.

Finally, the name we give ourselves is the cumulative effect of the way we interact with the world. With this, we can understand the phenomenon of some of the Bible's names. For example, some of the kings involved in the first war, recorded in the book of Genesis, seem quite unusual. For example: Bera = in bad. Birsha = in evil. Shinav = hates his Father [in Heaven]. I highly doubt that these are the names that these kings were known by. These are the names that these men achieved for themselves, through their evil deeds. When the Torah tells us someone's name, more often than not it is the name expressing their character, not the name on their driver's license. It's the name he gave himself.

So it is with the Names of God. They are simply expressing how God relates to the world at that moment. God's message to the children of Israel, through His Name, is a very powerful one. "I Shall Be." In a world of evil and chaos, the people must know that God continues to exist, continues to be pure and good. They must believe that their bondage is only temporary. They must believe that the goodness of God can be, and will be, revealed. It was a message of encouragement that the Israelite salves badly needed.

The Rabbis in the Midrash claim that the Jews merited redemption from Egypt for having "not changed their names, their mode of dress, and their language." Question. The very same rabbis claim that the Jews had fallen to the 49th level of impurity, and had become guilty of idolatry in Egypt. Why, then, does the fact that they didn't change their names make any difference? What's in a name, if the person is a sinner? And if we are referring to the name one gives oneself through one's behavior, I could argue that they indeed did change their names! They changed them to idolatrous ones.

Rather, in the same spirit of "I Shall Be," we can gain greater insight into a name. Names do not change from day to day or year to year. A name is over a lifetime. God did not name Himself "I Am," rather, "I Shall Be." The name that we give ourselves is not based on our temporary behaviors, but on our overall life's goals and values. It's who we yearn to be, even though at the moment, we are not at that level.

Thus, when Moses asks God what the merit of the people is that will make them worthy of redemption, God answers, "When you take them out of Egypt, you will all serve the Lord on this mountain (you will receive the Torah here)." In other words, even though they are idolatrous and assimilated today, they have never changed their names, the names that reflect their dreams and hopes for the world. They are destined to stand tall at Mount Sinai! That is who they truly are.

Many people are "searching for themselves." I might only suggest that you begin that search with your names. You should look inside your heart to discover the name that God gave you, through your skills, dreams, and passion. You should look at the name that your parents gave you, your education, and, more, their aspirations for you. Based on that, you should assign yourself a name that you will achieve through your life's work.

Take, for example, the perplexing story of the Israelite midwives. Pharaoh gave them an order to put to death every male child that was born. The midwives disobeyed him and kept the boys alive as well. When Pharaoh confronted them, they gave him an excuse: "The Israelite women are very lively, and before the midwife arrives, they have already given birth!" Pharaoh realizes that working through the midwives will not do the job, so the issues a general order that all male children must be thrown into the river.

I find this story completely confusing. First of all, how do the midwives have the nerve to give such a lame answer to Pharaoh? Granted that they were prepared to risk their lives and not kill the males, but what kind of excuse is this? Why didn't Pharaoh simply respond that they should kill the male babies when they find them? Further, why did Pharaoh accept such insubordination? He held the power of life and death over the Israelites, or so he thought, so why didn't he punish the midwives?

The ease with which the Israelites had access to Pharaoh and could openly debate Pharaoh's policy towards them with him directly is also amazing! Moses, Aaron, the representatives of the Israelites all seem to have free run of the palace! One could never imagine such a thing in World War II Germany.

A further question. What was Pharaoh's goal of having the male children killed? If he sought to limit the growth of the Israelite population, as implied in the verses which stress just how fruitful Israel was, he should've had the female children eliminated. After all, one male could impregnate many females, so killing the male children is less effective. If here and there, a male child was missed, the Israelites would continue to multiply in any case. Not so if the girls were killed.

One more question, and then we will try to answer them all. After the Israelites are liberated, and after they have received the Torah, there are a number of Commandments relating to the various nations that have oppressed us. First and foremost, is the commandment to eradicate the memory of Amalek. Then, we are enjoined to not despise the Edomite, "for he is your brother."

But one contrast seems to be striking. Regarding the Ammonites and Moabites, the Torah tells us to not allow them to join our people ever. Why? Because they did not bring out water and bread to us as we traveled through the wilderness. Regarding Egypt, however, we have an opposite approach. "Do not despise the Egyptian, for you were a guest in his land." What? What kind of hospitality was that? Decades upon decades of bitter servitude? And what kind of crime did the Ammonites and Moabites commit? It seems that what they did was far worse than the Egyptians! How can this be?

Our rabbis, perhaps in response to this question, tell us a story about Pharaoh's intentions regarding the Israelite males. His fortunetellers had informed him that a savior had been born to the Israelites. This savior would liberate them from Egyptian slavery and lead them out of the country. Pharaoh was not prepared to allow this to happen, so he ordered all of the males to be killed. In this way, he hoped that that savior would be among those eliminated.

From all of the above questions, I have come to a possible explanation. It is that the Egyptians were not "anti-Semitic," and did not hate the Israelites in the least. Allow me to explain.

I believe there are three kinds of jealousy in the world. The worst kind is one where the jealous individual despises the object of his jealousy and wishes him every harm. This is what Cain did to Abel. The best kind of jealousy is where the jealous individual wishes to learn from the example of the object of his jealousy and thus improve himself. In rabbinical literature, this is called "Jealousy of the scribes," which simply causes the jealous individual to become ever more scholarly.

But there is a middle kind of jealousy, not hatred, but not love and admiration either. It is when the jealous person wishes to subordinate the object of their jealousy to their own ambitions. Think of a hostile corporate takeover as opposed to a smear campaign.

I believe that Pharaoh and his Egyptian leadership possessed this kind of jealousy. They wanted Egypt to be the most powerful and successful empire in the world but were jealous of the remarkable success of the Hebrews. They held no hatred towards them, which makes sense in the context of what Joseph had done in saving Egypt. Nonetheless, they did not wish to befriend them or learn from them. They wished to harness their uniqueness for their own aims.

If this is true, we can understand the initial reluctance of Pharaoh to simply order the execution of the Jewish male babies. He told the midwives, in typical Mafia fashion, "Make it look like an accident." Make sure that the male babies are not successfully born, prevent the necessary life-saving actions during childbirth and let the babies die by themselves. To this, the midwives responded that by the time they got to the Israelite women, they had already given birth. Pharaoh had never ordered them to actually actively kill the babies. The Hebrew term used is "cause them to die." The words for kill and murder are not the same.

Pharaoh's obsession with a hostile takeover of the Israelites also explains why he wanted the male children eliminated. In the ancient world, certainly, it was the males who determine the identity of the family. If the girls would be killed, the Israelite males would then marry Egyptian girls and thus convert them to the Israelite way of life. If the boys were gone, then all that would be left were the girls who would then be married by Egyptians, guaranteeing their complete assimilation. That, after all, was Pharaoh's goal. He preferred the neater method of making it look like an accident, but when push came to shove, he ordered the boys thrown into the river.

(In a side point, our sages teach us that the stories of the book of Genesis foretell what would befall the descendants of the patriarchs in later generations. When Abraham and Sarah descended to Egypt because of a famine, Abraham requested that Sarah proclaim herself his sister instead of his wife. He was afraid that if they knew that he was her husband, they would kill him and take her away. Indeed, when she said that Abraham was her brother, that did save his life. She was then taken to be Pharaoh's wife. In a sense, this was the new Pharaoh's goal as well. Eliminate the potential husbands, and take the girls to be the Egyptian wives.)

There is a test written into the commandments to see whether we are truly free of both negative kinds of jealousy. The great sage Rabbi Akiva claimed that the essence of the Torah was the commandment, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Somebody with one of the two negative jealousies will be incapable of fulfilling that commandment. Certainly, if they hate their competitor it will be impossible. But even if they simply view the person as a competitor, while they may not hate them, they will not be able to love them. Only one who views a competitor as a teacher will be able to observe this law.

Imagine you have a button which, when pressed, will grant your "competitor" immediate excellence and success. Would you be able to press that button? I'm not talking about a case where your competitor is seeking to put you out of business. I'm talking about a case where you both are simply doing your business and trying your best. Would you help your competitor? If your interest is to learn how to continually improve, you will press that button with gusto and then ask your competitor how he or she made it to the next level.

Now we can understand the difference between the Egyptians, on the one hand, and the Ammonites and Moabites on the other. The former were not haters. Yes, they were jealous, and they got punished for it. But they did not seek to destroy, only to subsume. But the Ammonites and Moabites refused to bring water and bread to a thirsty and suffering mass of humanity only from hatred. As a result, their character invalidates them from future entry to the nation of kindness, the nation of Israel.

Why does the Torah tell us at such great length of the dysfunctional relationship of Joseph and his brothers? We have three separate Torah readings to cover this entire story! That is a lot of focus, and the question is why.

The details of the story are known far and wide. I wish to probe Joseph's behavior towards his brothers when they came to Egypt to purchase food. Joseph was the second in command, and it was his job to oversee the food distribution during the years of famine. When the brothers, with the exception of Benjamin, stood before him, he recognized them quickly. They, however, did not recognize him. The Torah tells us that, "And Joseph remembered the dreams he had dreamed to them, and now he became estranged to them and spoke harshly to them."

Joseph chooses to run his brothers through the wringer. He accuses them of being spies, requires them to bring their youngest brother Benjamin to Egypt the next time they come. Until then, he will incarcerate Simon. At that moment, the brothers discuss among themselves their guilt in selling Joseph. "When our brother cried to us and begged us, we did not listen. Now his blood is being sought." Reuben responds with, "Did I not tell you not to sin against the boy?"

Joseph is moved by this discussion, and must leave the room in order to cry. What moved him so? And if so, why did he continue the charade of accusing them of spying? Isn't their contrition clear? Why not reunite the family already?

The Torah gives us a hint by mentioning that Joseph's memory of the dreams was the catalyst for his behavior. Some commentaries see on Joseph's part an attempt to force the fulfillment of his dreams. 10 of his brothers have already bowed down to him. He still needs Benjamin to do so, and he needs the sun and moon, representing his father and mother, to do so as well. Since Rachel has already passed away, the commentaries say this refers to her maidservant, Bilhah. The problem I have with this approach is that Jacob did not bow down to Joseph when he arrived in Egypt. In fact, he only did it far after the fact, as he was on his deathbed. Joseph never seems to force that issue.

The commentary of rabbi Solomon Sorotzkin points out that the brothers expressed their guilt to each other when Simon was going to be locked up. They saw in this Divine retribution, where nine brothers consigned the 10th to slavery and incarceration. They were nine in number when they sold Joseph, and now nine of them would return to the land of Canaan, while the 10th would go to jail in Egypt. This indicated divine punishment for their parallel offense.

I believe that it was Reuben's comment that he had warned the brothers at the time not to harm Joseph that moved Joseph to tears. He probably hadn't known that not all of the brothers wanted to do away with them. Nonetheless, this contrition was not enough. It was the contrition of a thief who gets caught, no more than that. Joseph had a more rigorous goal for his brothers: to accept with joy his leadership. To become part of the mission, part of the team.

Joseph's dream about the brothers bowing to him was misunderstood by the brothers. To them, it is the vanquished that bows to the victor. For them, it was a zero sum game. If Joseph won, they lost. What was missing was the possibility that they were all on the same team.

That is what Joseph interpreted the dreams to mean. To him, bowing indicates submission to the mission. Subjects bow to a king in a gesture of willingness to join together in the national interest. There must be one leader, and bowing acknowledges that leader. Nonetheless, all are on the same team. And, in the case of Joseph and his brothers, what is this team called?

It is called a family. Family is the key to the Jewish people's mission. In a normal family, each individual is committed to the welfare of the others and of the whole. The family of Jacob have a mission, and everybody needs to be on board with it. Joseph sought, by this whole performance, to bring the brothers to the point of recognizing that he is the best leader for the family mission. When they reconcile at the end, he keeps stressing that they're selling them to slavery enabled him to save countless lives and entire nations.

Now, however, that the must be understood to have been a tragedy. The brothers must be brought to the same situation, where they face the same exact choice. Benjamin is the new Joseph, he is Jacob's new favorite son. Jacob is probably even more protective of Benjamin than he was of Joseph! So Joseph needs to see that the brothers are now going to stand up for each other, and become a true family. He is going to test them. He does it now with Simon, and they pass. He will do it with Benjamin, and when they pass that test, he can reveal himself.

How many families craft a mission statement? Individuals do it. Businesses do it. Families should as well. A family is the greatest possible team, and can accomplish the greatest feats. The family of Israel, even in the first generations, transformed the world.

Chanukah is a festival of family. The lighting of the candles is incumbent upon each household, not each individual. In theory, a person could fulfill the Mitzvah of candle lighting without touching a match and without seeing a flame. As long as the menorah is lit in the home, every member of that household has fulfilled their obligation.

The Talmud gives different levels of observance of this Mitzvah. The basic one is to have one candle for each household. The higher level is to have the amount of candles depend on the amount of members of the family. Thus, a family of four with light for candles every night Chanukah. The highest level is to light one additional candle with each night. That is the way we do it.

This emphasis on the family is not by accident. It was one family that brought about the entire miracle of Chanukah! The Macabbees were the sons of one man, Matityahu. This family chose a mission of national importance, and immediately attracted an army capable of defeating the powerful Greeks! That is how important a family mission is! Families create a team like nothing else. Thus, we fulfill the Mitzvah of Chanukah with an emphasis on the family.

On this Festival of Lights, let's kindle the light of family, and let's sit down as a family and write a mission statement. What a wonderful transformation this can bring! It is the secret of the power and eternity of the Jewish people.