Parashat Ki Tetze, Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19

This Parasha has been generously sponsored by Lorne Opler in honour of Alan Opler.

What happens when experience clashes with the words of the Torah?

One of my most vivid memories from Hebrew School days is reading the words at the beginning of Deuteronomy chapter 22 regarding caring for animals. It was the attention to the animals' wellbeing that stirred my 12 year-old heart. More than the lost or injured animals, I recall the instructions regarding the mother bird:

If, along the road, you chance upon a bird's nest, in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs and the mother sitting over the fledglings or on the eggs, do not take the mother together with her young. Let the mother go, and take only the young, in order that you may fare well and have a long life.

Deuteronomy 22:6-7

Reading the portion as an adult, I saw this was only a small section in a long list of instructions dealing with social welfare. In order for a society to function, people must care for each other. In building a house, we are instructed to make sure there is a parapet, a railing for protection, so people will not fall from the roof. We are guided in caring for the weaker members of society and even in treating our animals. Society is judged by how we treat the weakest among us.

It would be lovely to stop there but reading Ki Tetze as an adult can be troubling. The punishment for a rebellious child, the treatment of a woman captured in war, dealing with the betrothed woman who is raped, the status of an illegitimate child, as well as other examples in this Torah portion – these situations and the ways they are handled often seem like affronts to our modern sensibilities.

Struggling with words of Torah that strike us as unfair has a long history in our tradition. Sometimes we face a more difficult obstacle: What happens when experience clashes with the words of the Torah? One of the most famous examples of such an obstacle is based on the passage in Ki Tetze dealing with the mother bird. (A detailed analysis of this passage may be found in a previous posting.)

The promise of longevity in the story of the mother bird led a leading Talmudic rabbi, Elisha ben Abuyah, to question his beliefs after he watched a young boy sent by his father climb a tree to retrieve some eggs. The child did as he was told, fulfilling the mitzvah to honour your parents, which promises longevity, a mitzvah found in the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:12). In addition, the boy shooed away the mother bird, fulfilling the commandment in Ki Tetze that promises the fullness of years: Let the mother go, and take only the young, in order that you may fare well and have a long life. Yet the child fell out of the tree and died; so much for the promise of long life. How could this innocent, caring lad, fulfilling a commandment, be denied what is promised in our holiest book? Having no answer, Elisha ben Abuyah lost his faith.

We have all experienced situations where reality contradicts our beliefs and tests our faith. The situation may not have been as dramatic as that witnessed by Elisha ben Abuyah, but there are times in life that we know something is unfair or unjust.

The seemingly arbitrary nature of justice is raised in the book of Job. In rabbinic times, the Talmudic sages placed this fundamental question in the mouth of our greatest leader:

Moses said before God: Ruler of the Universe, why is it that there are righteous people who are well off and righteous people who are in adversity, and wicked people who are well off and wicked people who are in adversity?

Berachot 7a

Judaism acknowledges that bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. There is much in our tradition about such injustice, although what we most often encounter in response is a reaffirmation of belief in God.

What we find in our texts plays out today as well. Interestingly, it was Elisha ben Abuyah who rejected God, and not the father who had actually suffered the loss. Elisha is the bystander who is outraged with the unfairness of what he has witnessed.

Often, not always – but often enough, in text and in life we find that difficulty strengthens faith. Adversity and tragedy become a new avenue for dialogue with the Divine.

This should not be taken to mean that suffering is created by God. Rather, it is an opportunity to approach God. Suffering is one dimension of life, without which life is incomplete. It is always amazing how individuals bear what outsiders consider unbearable.

In our society we avoid and even hide suffering until a catastrophe comes along ripping away the covers from what we hoped would remain hidden.

What is the proper response to tragedy, pain, and sorrow? It could very well be loss of faith as in the case of Elisha ben Abuyah. Indeed, suffering is the only cause of loss of faith mentioned in the Talmud.

But the more common Jewish response is that suffering calls for a human response.

By utilizing tragedy and suffering as a catalyst for active moral renewal, the Judaic tradition prevents political powerlessness from creating feelings of personal impotence and loss of self esteem. If events in the larger world are unpredictable, if the nation is subject to the violence and whims of foreign rulers, the rabbinic mind does not fall victim to despair, disillusionment, and escapism, but rather focuses on the personal and the communal as the framework to contain its activist dignity.

Rabbi David Hartman, Suffering in Contemporary Jewish Religious Thought, p. 944 (Arthur A. Cohen and Paul Mendes-Flohr, ed.)

We are God's instruments in this world. The misfortune of others should prompt us to take our outrage, our righteous anger, and channel it into endeavors for compassion, justice, social welfare, and tikkun olam. Both on the communal level as advocated in Ki Tetze, and on the individual level when there is dissonance between reality and sacred teachings it is a call to action.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Shabbat Nachamu, Parashat Va'etchanan, Deuteronomy 3:23 - 7:11

This Parasha has been generously sponsored by Laura Silver in loving memory of her father, Irving Silver.

It's not fair.

It's not fair. How often do we hear that from our children? It's not fair that I practiced so much but didn't get picked for the team. It's not fair that my brother can stay up late and I can't. It's not fair that all my friends are allowed to see this movie but I'm not. Lots of things aren't fair in the world of children. Fortunately, children grow up and learn there are actually good reasons for the perceived unfairness of youth.

This is when things begin to get difficult. Adults find out that many things aren't fair, and that these things have far greater repercussions than a curfew or a missed activity.

Such is the case in this week's parasha. The very first word of the portion, va'etchanan (I pleaded), cries out: It's not fair. Moses implores God to be allowed to enter the Promised Land:

I pleaded with the Lord at that time, saying, "O Lord God, You who let Your servant see the first works of Your greatness and Your mighty hand, You whose powerful deeds no god in heaven or on earth can equal! Let me, I pray, cross over and see the good land on the other side of the Jordan, that good hill country, and the Lebanon." But the Lord was wrathful with me on your account and would not listen to me. The Lord said to me, "Enough! Never speak to Me of this matter again! Go up to the summit of Pisgah and gaze about, to the west, the north, the south, and the east. Look at it well, for you shall not go across yonder Jordan.

Deuteronomy 3:23-27

Moses, whose life was devoted to leading the people through the Wilderness to the Promised Land, who intervened between God and Israel, who shouldered responsibility he did not seek, will not get the reward he desired. It's not fair.

Rashi, basing himself on Sifre, explains that the root of the word va'etchanan is one of ten words used for prayer in Hebrew. Here we have a prayer, a request, a plea from our greatest leader, the one who spoke with God face to face; and the answer is "no." It's not fair.

Moses is undergoing one of the most painful experiences of life. It is the moment when life punches you in the stomach and leaves you dazed, gasping for breath, wondering what you did to deserve this. It is the news from the doctor that you've got a chronic condition, a debilitating disease, or a terminal illness. You never smoked, you ate right, and you tried to be a good person. Why me? It's not fair.

It is the realization that life will never be the same. It will be filled with frustration and pain, your appearance could change, your abilities will deteriorate, and limitless opportunities have suddenly come to an end. It's not fair.

No wonder Moses lashes out and tries to lay blame somewhere else:

Now the Lord was angry with me on your account and swore that I should not cross the Jordan and enter the good land that the Lord your God is assigning you as a heritage. For I must die in this land; I shall not cross the Jordan.

Deuteronomy 4:21-22

As dramatic as this is, it is only a small part of parashat Va'etchanan. Despite the unfairness, despite the finality of things, Moses' focus in Va'etchanan is not "why me," it is how to go on. This is a parasha rich in so much that is basic to Judaism. It contains the 10 Commandments, the Sh'ma and the Ve'ahavta. Over and over in this portion, Moses stresses the lesson of seeking God and following God's instructions:

But if you search there for the Lord your God, you will find Him, if only you seek Him with all your heart and soul — when you are in distress because all these things have befallen you and, in the end, return to the Lord your God and obey Him. For the Lord your God is a compassionate God: He will not fail you nor will He let you perish; He will not forget the covenant which He made on oath with your fathers.

Deuteronomy 4:29-31

Frankly, were I an Israelite listening to Moses, I would be skeptical. Hey Moe, nobody did more for the big G. Almighty than you. You ask for one thing and get a big fat no. Despite this you're giving advice that says trust in God! How can you say that? Don't you feel that God failed you? Are you trying to convince yourself?

How do you go on after having the wind knocked out of you? How can you reconcile the seemingly contradictory notions that life is unfair and can still be good? Moses didn't get to enter the land, but he got to go up the mountain and see a view that no one else saw. Perhaps he appreciated it more, knowing this was it. Because of his pain, Moses gained a perspective not shared by others: a sensitivity and appreciation to what he might otherwise take for granted.

Permit me a personal digression: I recently took a flight that had a very excited group of young women on it. They behaved as one would expect, chatting happily the entire trip. It was perfectly normal, except that each woman was a paraplegic. Each woman was also a member of a basketball team travelling to an international competition. Most of us would look upon these women with a measure of sorrow. What a waste that such energetic young lives are so tragically constrained! Yet these women do not let obstacles get in their way. They're leading normal, fulfilling lives. Heck, they're leading exciting lives. When was the last time you or I took part in an international athletic competition?

We too can continue on whatever path is set before us, be it steep, rocky, dusty or muddy. Like Moses, we are each able to reach a point where resentment turns into resolve. That point may not be at the place where we encounter our obstacle. Chances are it will be somewhere farther down the road, when we are tired, dirty and covered with cuts and bruises.

In parashat Va'etchanan we find the words of Ve'ahavta which are traditionally recited daily; this is the instruction to love God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. (Deuteronomy 6:5) That passion is so easy to find when everything is going well. When we have just experienced life's sucker punch, it is a different story. This is when the word "all" (kol) is key. It means even, perhaps especially, at times of doubt, questioning, and weakness.

Though we read the Ve'ahavta as an affirmation, it also contains a challenge regarding God's teachings: Impress them upon your children. (Deuteronomy 6:7) What better lesson can we give our children than how we respond to the unfair blows that knock us down?

In a poem I alluded to a few weeks ago , Rabbi Alvin Fine wrote that

...life is a journey,
A going – a growing
From stage to stage…
From weakness to strength
Or strength to weakness -
and often back again; …
From defeat to defeat to defeat -
Until, looking backward or ahead,
We see that victory lies
Not at some high place along the way,
But in having made the journey,
Stage by stage -
A sacred pilgrimage.

Our challenge, daunting as it may be, is to find the sacred in the unfair.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel