Shlach Lecha

Faith

The Midrash states that nothing can compare with the person who risks his life to fulfill a mitzvah.  Let the truth be told; we are here only because someone risked their life to escape the clutches of people who were bent on destroying them.  It is just like the powerful and prescient narrative of the Passover Haggadda, “A wandering Aramean tried to destroy my father.”  That is how Jacob wound up living in Egypt.  He ran from Laban who was intent on murdering him.  Is your family’s story very different?  Probably not. 

         Although prior generations were reluctant to share their painful journeys, we know the truth of it.  They were running from terror.  That is how most Jews in the world arrived where they are today.  Some edict, pogrom, a threat or Holocaust pushed them toward an opaque, unknown future.  We are alive today because of they left their roots.

Emunah is the Hebrew word for “faith.”  Emunah is connected to another word that is familiar to everyone, “Amen.”   Both have the same Hebrew base.  Whenever we utter “Amen” we are affirming our faith in what has been stated.

This week’s Torah reading, Shlach Lecha, is about both elements, making journey to an unknown place and having faith.

God did not command Moshe to send out people to spy the Land of Israel; the people demanded it.  So Moshe, according to Sforno, deliberately handed over the task of determining the viability of the Land to the chiefs of the tribes, knowing they would be fearless and honest.  Yet, his trust was misplaced. The chiefs and nation as a whole lacked the “emunah” in God’s word and hence they had forty years of exile and wandering.

Rashi later observed that if the Israelites had faith in God’s promise to deliver them safely, not only would they have been spared a generation in the desert but many wars when they subsequently encountered hostile tribes along the way.

In a more personal sense, we are commanded to follow God’s mitzvot, whether we understand their meaning or not.  Such is an act of “emunah.”  To do a mitzvah is by definition an act of faith.  Implicit in the action, doing the mitzvah, is the idea of God (if there is law, there must be a Lawgiver).  When we follow God’s dicta we are acknowledging it, as well as Him.

In this way each of us is on a life-long journey.  We do not know the destination but we have all the necessary provisions to keep us on the right path.  Essentially, teaches the Safat Emet, in following the mitzvot we are faithfully (maintaining our emunah) adhering to a journey that will keep us safe and end in the promised land of our future.   In his commentary, the Safat Emet reminds us of the phrase from Ecclesiastes, “There is a time for every purpose under heaven.”  The way he understands this statement is to underscore the words “under heaven.”  Tread the path of God and all else will make sense, even the parts that we do not understand.

According to our sages, the date when the tribal chiefs returned with their faithless report was Tisha B’Av, the generational night of tragedy and weeping.  This date, which we mark yearly by fasting, reading Lamentations and recalling the terrible events of the past, is less about history and tragedy and more about faith moving forward.

Going back to the narrative in the Torah, when the people heard that the land of Israel was too great and overwhelming for them they responded, “Let us appoint a new leader that will take us back to Egypt!”  What was in front of the people was unfathomable whereas the past was known.  Despite the fact that Egypt represented their tortured past, it was preferable for them to go backward instead of forward. 

We know that was a dreadful mistake in reading this ancient story.  We know how it turned out.  Is our present day lives all that different?  Isn’t having faith, moving into an uncertain future, less palatable than moving backward?  Even if moving backward brings us into the arms of diminution of character or will bring us pain?

Emunah is the hallmark of this week’s parasha and what ought to be the hallmark of our lives.

Do not look over your shoulder at what was: Look forward towards what can be.

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D'var Aher

Dialogue from the 2,000 year-old man:

Carl Reiner: "What was the means of transportation then?"
Mel Brooks: "Mostly fear."
Reiner: "Fear transported you?"
Brooks: "Fear, yes. An animal would growl — you would go two miles in a minute. Fear would be the main propulsion."

Fear is a great force for movement.  Instincts allow us to save ourselves from potential threats.  Fear also diminishes us.

In the week’s Torah portion we read of how the fear kept the generation of the desert from transcending to a higher level of life.

The Israelites, still newly sprung from the Egyptian slavery were on the verge of entering into the land which God promised. Yet they could not bring themselves to summon the courage to engage their destiny.  They saw a land filled with unknown terrors, giants that would squash them, a land which they were undeserving of entering, and strange people who might be friends or foes.

God granted their wish.  They would not come into Israel for another generation, when they would have hopefully grown out of their self-imposed limitations.

We are those Jews, still wrestling against the tide of fear; afraid to speak up when immigrants are abused, afraid to stand up for ourselves when virulent anti-Semitism arises and personally daunted to take on new challenges.

We read the story of the Shlach Lecha and the fears faced by our ancestors as a personal trial to speak up and stand up when it matters most.

Ha'azinu

In the modern era when we enjoy and take great naches from the new country of Israel we often remind ourselves of the miraculousness of her existence. She is the culmination of dreams and prayers that remained strong for two thousand years of exile. The fact that she still lives is remarkable given the ongoing threats that have continued unabated since her birth. Yet, Moses speaks even to our time. He announces to vast unknown generations that miracles abound when Jews place their trust in the Lord, God.

Perhaps one of the worst crimes against our self that we commit is to minimize the miracles of our time. In one old apocryphal tale a king asks his vizier for proof of the existence of God. The adviser answered, “The Jews, sire, the Jews.”
Much the same point is made by the Hafetz Hayim. The Hafetz Hayim once asked a man how he was feeling. The man responded to the master that things could be much better.

The Hafetz Hayim answered the man, “How do you know? How can you be really sure that things could be better? Perhaps you are wrong. Maybe life is exactly as it ought to be and if the balance were disturbed, your life would be much worse.”
I believe the Hafetz Hayim was deliberately telling the man to look at his life and like it. It is far too easy to be dismissive of what we have as we jealously look across to our neighbor and salivate with envy. The way of doubt is easy. The way of faith, on the other hand, is to appreciate what God has presented to us.

It is no great hochma, wisdom, to be dismissive. It is easy to be critical. It is easy to take pot-shots and shoot holes into beliefs. For those who wish to write-off America as hopelessly corrupt and a failure they can cite case after case to bolster their argument. Take a great leader and place under a microscope all their flaws and their dark underbelly strips away all the good things they did. One can criticize Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Maimonides, Akiva, anyone and find a world that is devoid of models of behavior. Schindler was a drinker, Freud was a druggie, Kennedy a womanizer. What is left? What have we proven? That we are smarter than they? No, only that there is no goodness in the world.

The Hazon Ish makes a similar point in speaking about a tailor. Someone watching sees him with a pair of scissors cutting strips of fabric from many bolts of cloth. The observer says to himself, what a mess. Why is this man ruining all these fine stretches of fabric? Only when the tailor does his work in crafting a master piece of clothing does it become apparent to all what he was doing. That is the way of God, says the Hazon Ish. We see only a fragment of what he does. Instead of making judgments, faith dictates that we observe and accept.

Perhaps that is also why the Israeli nation anthem nods to this principle when it states that this new national identity is the fruition of a two thousand year old promise. Israel came about, this implies, because God was the guiding force throughout the epochs. Israel came to be when God ordained that it was time. Because the people kept the prayers alive, the vision and dream undimmed, it came to pass.

A Matter of Law:
We all have debts. Some are larger than others. They, at times seem to consume our waking and sleeping hours. The Sages warn however that the honor of another person overwhelms even such an obligation. At no time are we ever permitted to embarrass another person for the sake of a loan or debt they have not repaid.
Haftara Insight:
An old man, King David readies himself to take leave of this universe. His powerful words so resonate with us that they are often used at funerals even today. They express the notion that God is above death. He is the ultimate rock of existence. Knowing that the Holy One reigns forever makes even death less frightening.
More, God redeems and forgives us for our earthly sins. That is the greatness of the love of God.

Shlach Lecha: The Etilology of Mistrust

Shelach lecha means “Send for you."

Comment: God did not ask the Israelites to dispatch spies. The people demanded it. God had already promised the Israelites both the land and that the land was “good.” The first time God promised the land of Israel to the Jewish people was with Abraham our Father so many years before. (Genesis 13) Reiterated time and again throughout the Torah, these descendents of Father Abraham had lost all faith in the Divine Word.

There was no reason for the spies to pass through the land on a mission except if they were already filled with doubts. Just think of the revealing statement by the returning spies who claimed that "We looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them." (Numbers 13:33) To imply that the Israelites looked like tiny insects to the inhabitants of the land is a depressing, and unreliable, thought.

Perhaps “Send for you” means send a message to yourself about the reality of the situation.

Comment: The word “you” is singular.

The Zohar says that the underlying reason for the spies, really princes, of each tribe, giving such a negative report was they feared for their positions. The delegates/princes/spies believed that the change from escaped slaves to freemen in Israel might mean they would lose their position as princes of their tribes. Afraid of demotion they chose to frighten the people into remaining in the wilderness. In that way the princes remained in power. Perhaps then the reason "you" is in singular form is to tell us that HaShem was specifically speaking to the spies, not the congregation of Israel. God knew their hearts were dark and was warning each of them to think clearly.

Comment: When God declared to Moses to send out the spies what He really meant was, ‘send them out for yourself, if you have so little faith in My word. Did I not already tell you that the Land would be yours?’

In other words, God was telling the doubters that He was surprised at their utter lack of faith. How could the people have so little trust in the Lord after the plagues in Egypt? After the walls of water that parted for them at the Sea? After Mt Sinai? After the manna?

Rabbi Lawrence Kushner invents, based on a midrash, a conversation between two Israelites, Reuven and Shimon. At the splitting of the sea they converse:

"What is this muck?"Shimon scowled, "There's mud all over the place!""This is just like the slime pits of Egypt!" replied Reuven."What's the difference?" complained Shimon. "Mud here, mud there; it's all the same."... For Reuven and Shimon the miracle never happened.

Could this be the problem with the spies? Is it a natural human response to life to have short-term memory lapses?

A Hasidic Master, grandson of the famed Baal Shem Tov, noted that Moses asked the spies to take note of whether the land had trees (yesh) or not (ayin). The word yesh is a positive attitude of life. It is the predisposition of the faithful to see the hand of God in everything. Ayin, on the other hand, is a note of negativism. It is the unwillingness to see hope. Life is nothing more than a battle to stop the steady downhill pull into the dank abyss.

Despite all the implicit warnings to the spies, they were oblivious to hope; their trust in God was minimal.

Noteworthy is the date when these terrible events occurred: the day the spies returned from their mission was the most awful day on the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av.

Perhaps this great tragedy is why the Torah reading takes a strange turn toward the end of the parasha. The reading ends with the commandment to wear tzitzit – fringes on the corners of our garments. Why the mitzvah for the tzitzit? “To look and remember all the commandments of the Lord, God, to do them and not follow after your own heart and your own eyes.” (15:39)

Since our ego so strongly influences our yesh, God gives us a commandment which will act as a constant reminder that we must be aware of Providence. When doubts come to mind we are supposed to look at the fringes and be assured that we are not alone.



Haftarah insight:
Once again, spies are dispatched to view the land of Israel. This time, however, takes place some forty years after the debacle in Moses' time. The two spies were Pinchas and Caleb - who went the first time with Joshua.
Joshua carefully picked two individuals whose belief and trust is God is absolute. Their insight led to the home of Rahab. An unlikely hero, Rahab saves the spies. Who could have predicted that a whore would deliver Caleb and Pinchas? Yet, Rahab succeeds where the earlier leaders of ten tribes fail.
Faith is a more important criteria for the people than credentials or familial ties.

A Matter of Halakha:
Three things were gifted to the Jewish people but will only be delivered through trial, reveals the Talmud. They are Torah, Israel and Olam HaBa.
In the first instance, Torah is earned through effort. While a gift, its true essence can only be apprehended when a person applies energy to it.
Israel too, is an inheritance but like Torah, gleaning its true power means travelling there and for the truely devoted, living in Eretz Yisrael.
Olam HaBa, while waiting for each of us, requires us to live a righteous life.
All three gifts come with a price-tag: we must earn them.

B'har: The Shabbats

When God created humanity He tasked us with, “fill the earth and subdue it.”  Simple enough.  All Adam and Eve had to do was procreate and become masters of their earth.  Yet it soon became apparent that humankind’s appetite for control required greater and more specific directives.  

Left to our own irresponsible behaviors we would bring ruin on one another and on the land.  So God directed us to obverse laws that would curtail our destructive tendencies because we could not be trusted to control our lust for power and possessions. So, He told us to observe a once-per-week Shabbat.  Every seven days we are to light candles, bless wine and break bread. On Shabbat, the Holy One told us to live in the world on this Shabbat, not above it.  In that way the earth would reclaim one day for its own healing and we could reclaim the vitality of our lives.

Then God saw fit to add that when people sold themselves into slavery they needed to be set free after six years of labor.  Everyone deserves a new start in the seventh year. 

In B’har, God further expands the rule of seven by indicating the shmittah, a seventh year of Shabbat for the land.

We are just beginning to learn the value of this mitzvah. The body heals when it is given time to rest.  The mind recuperates when given a Shabbat.  Society heals when old debts are forgiven.  And the earth too needs time to recover from the never-ending onslaught of chemicals, depletion and deforestation.

To emphasize the importance of this mitzvah the Torah states that this was a law given at Mt Sinai.

God gave us a gift of a body and universe that self heals. But only if we give it what it needs.

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Davar acher

“Six days you shall work and on the seventh day you shall rest; from plowing and harvesting you shall rest.”

This text, from Exodus 34: 21, tells us to observe the Shabbat and, for some strange reason, chooses to use the example of refraining from planting and reaping on the Shabbat. Why did the Holy Text use this example and not, say, refraining from work? Or not shearing sheep? Or not making fire?

Rashi explains that the Torah uses this specific example because it wants us to be aware that it is speaking of two different sorts of Shabbat. One of them is the seventh day of the week where we are supposed to leave the earth alone and the other is the seventh year when we are told to let the land lie, the Shvi’it year. Both are equally valuable.

So holy is the Shvi’it, explains Rashi, that even the sixth and eighth years are tinged by the holiness of the seventh year. That is, explains the French rabbi, accidental produce that came up on the eighth year of the land is also holy and plowing at the close of the sixth year is forbidden.

The Torah reading of this week, B’har, opens us with God speaking to Moshe at mount Sinai, saying, "Speak to the Children of Israel and tell them: When you come to the land which I am giving to you, the land must keep a Shabbat to God ...". Leviticus 25:1

The concept of a "Shabbat to God" was interpreted with great zeal by our Sages, of blessed memory. They stressed that the observance of the Shvi’it was critical to our well-being. Read their words:

Come and see how difficult the Dust of Shvi’it is: A man who deals in produce of the Shvi’it year will eventually have to sell his chattel ... then his property ... and his house ... eventually his daughter as a handmaid ... he will have to borrow with interest ... and will be forced to sell himself ... to someone who worships idols, which will cause him to do the same. Kiddushin 20a
The phrase, “A Shabbat to God” is stated at the outset of our parsha. The expression can also mean “a return to God." In thinking about the usual Shabbat, the seventh day of the week, our tradition sees this as a day that restores the soul to the body. Shavat va’yinfash states the Ten Commandments instructing us on observing the Shabbat day. On the holy Shabbat our nefesh is given a glimpse of eternity. In that sense, Shabbat is about returning to God. Shavat va’yinafash means that our soul, nefesh, is reawakened and re energized. The day and its observances allow us to be soulfully connected to our Maker.

Shabbat is about reestablishing our relationship with the Almighty. It is a return to God. The Chernobyl Rebbe wrote that the word "Shabbat" -- shin-bet-tav -- stands for "Shabbat Bo Teshuvah" -- in Shabbat there is a return to the Lord.

After seven Shvi’it cycles (7 X 7= 49 years), there is the Jubilee year when land is returned to its original owners and Jewish servants are freed. There are three Shabbats observed by our people; Shabbat, Shvi’it and the Jubilee. Each one contains the nuance of returning back to God. The Sefer HaChinuch tells us this to make us aware that everything belongs to God. We are simply travelers on the earth.

Perhaps there is another lesson here for modernity. Life surges forward with ever-greater velocity. The speed of innovation and the attendant demands on our soul are dizzying.

Who heard of a cordless phone thirty years ago? Who lives without a cell phone today??

I would not advise investing in maps. GPS systems will soon be in every car.

When was the last time you saw a floppy disc drive? Computer technology does not advance, it races.

How long will it be until there are no more gasoline driven cars?

Judaism does not seek to resist or demonize technology. Our task is to harness it, though, and not be harnessed by it.

I cannot help but wonder whether the terrifying curse that is mentioned in the Talmud above may contain kernels of truth. Perhaps we can end up selling all our possessions and ultimately our soul if we are not watchful guardians.

Amalek, the dreadful enemy of the Jews has the same gematria, numerical value, as doubt, safek. In the Talmud, Rabbi Yehuda said in the name of Rav: Had the Jewish people only kept the first Shabbat, no nation or people could ever have had control over them. It says in Torah, "It happened that on the seventh day some of the people went out to collect [manna].” Immediately afterward the Torah reveals, "Amalek came . . ." Shabbat 118b. Amalek was the doubt that God knew what was best for the nation of Israel. Amalek were the lingering and festering thought that perhaps humanity knows better.

Maybe the lessons of the past, the doubts, the idea that somehow we are made of different stuff than all the generations that pack human history, is there to teach us to trust God.

Perhaps that is why when speaking of the seventh and Jubilee years the Torah promises that if we observe these Sabbatical laws " . . . You will dwell securely upon it." Leviticus 25:19 Trust is asked of us. Trust can give us blessing and make us whole.