Parshat Balak, to say the least, is a very unusual and interesting Parsha. To summarize briefly, The B’nai Yisroel were having a field day destroying all of their enemies. Balak, king of Moab, feared that he was next. He could have made friends with the Jewish nation by simply offering them food and water during their journey through the wilderness. But no! This was not the vision of our Jew hating king. Yes, there were anti-Semites even way back then. He concocted a diabolical plan. Get the renowned sorcerer, Bilaam, to curse the Jews. Bilaam, at first, was not anxious to get involved. He had heard of the power of the Jewish G-d. Ultimately, however, he caved in to the pressures exerted by Balak and set out on his donkey to curse the hated Jews. Lo and behold! An angel blocked the donkey from proceeding forward. Bilaam beat his donkey mercilessly trying to get it to move. Then the aha moment happened. The donkey starting speaking and asked Bilaam why he was beating him. Try as he may to curse the Jews, Bilaam’s curses were turned into blessings by G-d.

Stage right, act two. The Jewish people, including Moses, were unaware of the dangers they potentially faced with Balak and Bilaam. Moses learned of these events only after being informed by G-d of their occurrence. Moses, at the time, really had his hands full. The B’nai Yisroel were engaging in their customary habit of complaining. This time they complained about Manna. They didn’t like it and missed real food, especially meat.

Stage left, act three. I’ll title this act: How to really tick off G-d. Simple. Take a forbidden Moabite princess into your tent to engage in forbidden acts with her while making sacrifices to a Moabite god. Hashem, who had just saved the Jews from the curse laden Bilaam, now turned his wrath on the B’nai Yisroel hitting them with a plague worse than covid and wiping out twenty-four thousand Jews lickity split. It took the sharp shooting of Pinchas to put an end to the plague, i.e., a carefully thrown spear that shish kabobbed the offending duo.

Great stories, but do they make any sense? Is the Parsha trying to teach us something? Anything? Let’s look back at the curses/blessings of Bilaam for the answer. G-d had put words in the mouth of Bilaam. Now, we believe that G-d loves us. But where do we ever hear from G-d his expression of love for us? I know, I know. Actions speak louder than words. But sometimes it’s nice to hear those magical three words: I love you.

Check out the G-d inspired blessings of Bilaam. They’re a downright love sonnet. “How goodly are thy tents. O’ Jacob, etc., etc. Okay, if G-d loves us, why the plague? On the other hand, how could the B’nai Yisroel treat G-d in such a disrespectful manner? I have no ready answer for the second question. But regarding the first question, this seems to have been answered by G-d Himself in Hosea. Hosea wondered how G-d could still love the Jewish people given the way they act toward Him. G-d explained to Hosea that the Jewish people are like an unfaithful wife. Despite her infidelity, you still love her and are willing to take her back. Yes, G-d delivered a well-deserved plague, but quickly resumed his loving and caring for the B’nai Yisroel.

Yes folks. Parshat Balak is actually a love story. The story of G-d’s never- ending love for the Jewish people. If you don’t believe me, go ask Bilaam’s donkey.  It will confirm that I am right.

What an amazing opportunity. I had previously given a D’var to the Kehilla on Parshat Shelach where, among other things, I explored the sin of the ten spies who warned against entering Israel. I noted that they not only had sinned, but that the punishments handed out were Midah K’neged Midah (measure for measure). In other words, the punishments fit the crime. Today I want to explore Parsha Shelach a step further.

Please understand that the twelve spies were not ordinary men. They were the best of the best. The best man from each tribe or half-tribe was selected by Moses to be sent into the neighboring territory. All twelve spies acknowledged that the land flowed with milk and honey. Ten spies reported seeing giants and noted that in comparison they felt like grasshoppers. Joshua and Caleb, however, adamantly denied being grasshoppers and assured everyone that it was safe to proceed. But the B’nai Yisroel followed the advice of the ten spies. My questions today are what motivated the ten spies to report as they did and what lessons can be learned from this Parsha?

Allow me to add a third question. Didn’t Joshua and Caleb also see giants and recognize that to proceed forward would be dangerous?  Ten spies were pessimistic. They focused on the dangers that lie ahead. Two spies were optimistic. They focused on a land flowing with milk and honey, i.e., a good future. The difference between the two spy groups, however, went far beyond this and provides the key to understanding the main thrust of this Parsha. A review of the Parsha makes it clear that G-d was very unhappy with the B’nai Yisroel.  Chapter 14, sentences 26 through 38, reflect that G-d expressed his anger to Moses and Aaron. When would the murmuring of the B’nai Yisroel against Him stop? The punishments that followed were harsh. The ten spies died immediately. The B’nai Yisroel would spend the next forty years wandering in the wilderness. This allowed sufficient time for all males aged twenty to sixty who opposed G-d’s plan to die. One year of wandering was given for each of the forty days the spies searched out the land. Joshua and Caleb would survive to later lead the B’nai Yisroel into the promised land.

The main gist of the Parsha should now be clear. Ten spies had lacked faith in G-d. Their fear of the unknown had overwhelmed them. This fear and their lack of faith was readily absorbed by the B’nai Yisroel. Joshua’s and Caleb’s faith, on the other hand, did not waiver. A lesson to be drawn from this is to not allow fear of the unknown to diminish one’s faith in G-d. Query: What about fear of covid?

My eldest son, David, has another interesting take on this Parsha.  What the ten spies and the B’nai Yisroel lacked, he suggests, is adherence to the Dayeinu Principle. Think of the song we sing at the Passover seder. G-d had already done so much for the B’nai Yisroel. How did they respond? Complaint after complaint after complaint. If they only had shown some recognition to G-d for what He had already given them, then the punishments that followed may have been lessened. Certainly, this provides another good lesson. Be satisfied with what we have and with all G-d has given us rather than complain about that which we lack.

Putting everything together results in one mighty powerful lesson. Recognize all the good G-d has done for you. Show some appreciation.  Voice some gratitude. And never allow fear of the unknown to diminish your faith in G-d. He will continue to do well by you now and in the future. He will protect you from that which you fear. And remember that G-d has given you free will. Recognize that the choice is always yours to make: wander forty more years in the wilderness or enter the promised land.

Do you believe in miracles? Two things come to my mind when I think of miracles: Parsha Beshalach and Jacob Lefkovitz. This week’s Parsha is Beshalach. It mentions a number of purported miracles that occurred. The sea split to allow the Israelites to safely pass through and avoid the onslaught of the pursuing Egyptians. The people promptly complained that they were thirsty and hungry. Water suddenly appeared in the desert, but the people complained it was bitter. Moses was instructed by G-d to place a certain branch in the water and the water became sweet.  The people wanted more water. Moses struck a rock and water came forth. This act ultimately cost Moses his right to enter the promised land. The people continued to complain. What about food? Manna rained down from the heavens in the morning. Hey, how about some meat? Quails suddenly appeared. It’s time to fight the Amalekites, but they are too powerful. Moses raised his arms, at first by himself and later with help. Whenever his arms were raised the Israelites were victorious. Whenever they were lowered the Amalekites were victorious. Were these miracles? Did they really happen?

It’s time to switch over to Jacob Lefkovitz. Jacob was a third grader at a Jewish Day School. The custom of the Lefkovitz family was to discuss the weekly Parsha over Friday night Shabbat dinner. Let’s listen in on their discussion.

Parent: “Jacob, what did you learn this week in school?

Jacob: “I learned about Parsha Beshalach.”

Parent: “Tell us some of the things you learned.”

Jacob: “Well, the Jewish people were slaves in Egypt. They were able to convince the King of Egypt to let them go. But the King later changed his mind and sent his army to destroy the Jewish people. The Jews fought back and shelled the Egyptians with heavy artillery. Then they sent their air force to finish off the job with precision bombing. The Jews won the battle and were able to proceed to freedom.”

Parent (somewhat astonished): “Did you really learn this in school?”

Jacob: “Well, if I told you what I really learned you’d never believe it!”

Yes folks. A problem with miracles is that they are hard to believe. Do miracles really exist? Did they really happen? Do they still happen? These are questions you will have to answer for yourselves. Perhaps you might keep two thoughts in mind when formulating your opinion: (1) miracles are hard to accept, especially when you don’t actually see them and (2) belief in miracles may actually facilitate their occurrence. In other words, when it comes to miracles seeing is believing —and believing is seeing.

May you never need miracles. But if you ever do need them, may they come your way.

Good Shabbos

Over the years I have listened to countless speeches criticizing our Biblical ancestors. How could Abraham sacrifice his beloved son Isaac? How could Moses abandon his role as father and husband to take on the leadership of the B’nai Yisroel? How could Jacob cheat his brother Esau and trick his father Isaac? How could Pinchas commit such a violent act?  I cringe listening to these character assassinations. Well, good people, the bashing stops here!

Pinchas was the son of Elazar and the grandson of Aaron. The Jewish people had been ordered not to fraternize with the Midianites. A priest from the Tribe of Shimon, Zimri, disobeyed this order by taking a Midianite princess into his tent in front of Moses and others. In last week’s Parsha we learned that the Jewish people had sinned with the daughters of Midian and that they also joined them in worshipping the idol Peor. A plague broke out. Pinchas took it upon himself to take care of business. A well-thrown spear put an end to Zimri and his paramour. Shish-kabob Jewish style. Some people describe Pinchas as a vigilante and religious fanatic who used G-d as an excuse to play out his cruel and violent nature. G-d, however, rewarded Pinchas by making him the Father of the Priesthood.  Pinchas’ connection to Aaron was more than familial.  Just like his grandfather Aaron, Pinchas had a peaceful nature. Please recall that Aaron is referred to as Rodef Hashalom (Chaser of Peace). The plague immediately stopped and Moses was commanded by G-d to wage war on Midian.

Did you ever have to face something so intolerable that you considered being violent?  Would you, could you, ever commit a violent act? No? Really?

April 19 to May 16, 1943. The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. After experiencing years of unfathomable cruelty from the Nazis and after more than 250,000 Jews were transported from the ghetto to Treblinka death camp, the ghetto finally violently erupted.

June 5, 1967. The Six Day War began. An outmanned and outnumbered Israeli Air Force conducted a preemptive strike on the powerful Egyptian Air Force. After three hours of unrelenting bombing and strafing, the Egyptian Air Force was demolished or disabled as their planes still sat on the runway.

Spring 1972, Berwyn, Illinois. The Nazi Party obtained a permit to march. Laden with anti-Jewish and anti-black posters they marched under police protection behind a two- foot high hedge. They shouted death to Jews and Niggers. Suddenly, a high school student wearing a kippah was dragged over the hedge. Jumping the hedge past the police appeared a number of JDL men. I was one of those men. Nazi blood began to flow freely. Fortunately, my fist connected squarely on the jaw of a Nazi who fell to the ground. As I approached this piece of dung to inflict further damage, the dung heap raised his arm pleading for mercy. A nearby reporter took a picture of me, fist drawn, standing over an outstretched arm. Before I could resume my attack, a policeman put his arms around me and led me away from the fracas. The picture appeared in a major Chicago paper the next morning together with an article describing what had occurred. The Chicago JDL blew up the picture and turned it into a poster designating me as the JDJ poster boy.  The police walked all JDL fighters a block or so from the situs of the demonstration. One policeman announced that the mayor of Berwyn called and wanted us to hear the following: “Nice job. Now get the hell out of here.”

Is violence really never warranted? Was Pinchas a hero or a villain? You be the judge.

For more info and pictures go to:  interactive.wbez.org/curiouscity/Chicagonazineighborhood

Parshat Shelach. The story of the 12 spies. An oft told tale. Two good spies rewarded. Ten bad spies punished. Simple, right?

Let’s take a closer look at this intriguing story. What was the terrible wrong committed by ten of the spies? Didn’t they report what they saw? Maybe they exaggerated a little, but fear can do that to you. Their punishment was to die in the wilderness and never enter the Promised Land. Did the punishment really fit the crime?

Let’s examine the facts. When the 10 spies returned from Canaan, they addressed Moses and the entire community. They said that the land was indeed flowing in milk and honey. They continued to say, however, that the residents were too strong and the cities too fortified for the Children of Israel. This riled the people. Caleb quickly stepped in and assured the people that they were capable of taking possession of the land. The ten spies didn’t back off. Calamity awaits us, they warned. We saw giants. We looked like grasshoppers to them. The distraught B’nai Yisroel wept all night and started murmuring against Moses and Aaron. Why did G-d bring us here to die? Let’s appoint a new leader and go back to Egypt. Enter Caleb and Joshua. Do not rebel against G-d, they warned. Reaction of the people? Let’s stone Caleb and Joshua. Enter G-d. Time, Moshe, for Me to wipe out the B’nai Yisroel. So, Moshe prayed for the B’nai Yisroel and saved them, but the 10 spies were punished for what they wrought.

Did the punishment fit the crime? Certainly yes! The 10 spies who nearly convinced the B’nai Yisroel not to proceed to Canaan were clearly unworthy to enter the land themselves. Midah k’neged midah. Measure for measure. I can’t think of a more fitting punishment.

Isn’t there another important lesson to be learned from this Parsha? How outrageous of the people to turn on Moses and Aaron based upon a report of 10 spies, especially given the contra-reporting of Caleb and Joshua. Especially after Moses and Aaron led them out of slavery. And especially after personally witnessing a slew of miracles. What we see here, good people, is human nature. People are all too ready to accept gossip as truth. They are willing to turn on others at the drop of a hat. And unfortunately, they are willing to turn their backs on Hashem at the blink of an eye. But we also see greatness. Moshe did not respond with anger, although his deeds were being overlooked and challenged. Instead, he prayed on their behalf to an angry G-d to forgive them. Forgiveness and calmness. What wonderful attributes.

I’ll close with a quick personal story. Many years ago, Terry and I attended a Temple Banquet. Each table displayed a beautiful centerpiece consisting of a floral arrangement with a candle in the middle. I noticed that at the table next to ours, the floral arrangement had caught fire. I grabbed the pitcher of water on my table and doused the fire at the neighboring table. An angry woman sitting at the table asked me “what exactly did I think I was doing?” I responded, “Just watering the plants ma’am”.

Shabbat Shalom

Hello friends. Today I would like to share with you something I learned this Pesach and then add some parting thoughts. Before I do this, I would like to acknowledge the distinguished Rabbi of Shaare Tefilla in Dallas, Rabbi Rackovsky, who taught me a Passover lesson and who inspired this paper. Also, I would like to thank my son David for sending me Rabbi Rackovsky’s Sermon Digest which contained all of the sermon’s he would have presented to his congregation throughout Pesach had they been able to gather together.

Rabbi Rackovsky’s sermon for Second day Pesach opens by recalling the Solidarity Movement which was dedicated to convincing Russia to allow Soviet Jews to emigrate to Israel. The opening intrigued me and made me want to read further. After all, a few weeks after I married my beloved wife Terry in 1971, we attended a Solidarity Rally in Chicago. Many prominent Rabbis were involved in the movement including Rabbi Lookstein of Congregation Kehilath Yeshurun in Manhattan. Rabbi Lookstein told the story of a refusenik he befriended whose lifetime ambition was to get out of Russia and make Aliyah. Finally, his dream came true after the Soviet Union eased its position on emigration. This was in large part due to the efforts of the Solidarity Movement. Soon after the emigration, Rabbi Lookstein met up with his friend in Israel. He asked how things were going in Israel. The refusenik responded: “Terrible. I miss Russia. The food in Israel is awful. Cultural life is practically non-existent. Above all, I miss skiing in Russia.”

Rabbi Rackovsky astutely pointed out that the refusenik sounded like our ancestors who left Egypt in the Exodus. They complained: “Why did you take us out of Egypt. So that we may die in the wilderness?” Much like the refusenik, they complained about food: In Egypt we ate fish.” They also complained about Moses and some of them actually tried to overthrow him. I wonder, if it is human nature to constantly complain?  The B’nai Yisroel consistently complained despite witnessing one miracle after another. Despite having G-d to protect and sustain them. Despite Mount Sinai.

I  never understood Afikomen until it was explained to me by Rabbi Rackovsky in his fantastic Second Day Pesach sermon.

When the B’nai Yisroel left Egypt, they carried with them two items of food. The first item was a piece of matzah. We all undoubtedly recall that our ancestors fled Egypt quickly in their pursuit of freedom. There was no time to bake bread, so they quickly produced unleavened bread; matzah. They wanted to remember their flight to freedom and they wanted future generations to remember it. So, they each carried a little piece of matzah in their knapsacks as a reminder to themselves and their progeny of their road to freedom. But this still doesn’t explain Afikomen. Why is it such a prominent part of the Pesach Seder?

The Seder, you will please note, is divided into twelve orders. Order number eleven is Tzafon, when we eat the Afikomen. It is connected to order number four, Yachatz, when we split the middle matzah into two pieces and set aside one piece for the Afikomen. Why only eat a piece of matzah for the Afikomen rather than a whole matzah? The answer to this question and the question raised in the preceding paragraph lies in the matzah carried out of Egypt by our forbearers. Our Rabbis wanted Afikomen to be a symbol of freedom. How could one better symbolize this than by having a little piece of matzah become such a significant part of the Passover Seder.

But what about the other food item carried by the B’nai Yisroel when they fled Egypt? The second food item was a morsel of Maror.  Maror itself certainly plays a major role in the Pesach Seder. It is placed on the Seder plate. It is the eighth order of the Passover Seder. Rabban Gamliel declares it to be one of the three pillars of the Seder. But why don’t we set aside a little piece of maror and make it a separate order of the Seder like Afikomen?

As you are probably already aware, maror symbolizes the bitterness of slavery. To remember their bitter existence as slaves, the B’nai Yisroel set aside a morsel of maror in their knapsacks as they fled Egypt.  Like the matzah fragment that they carried, they carried the bit of maror as a reminder to themselves and their progeny of the bitterness they experienced during slavery. Unfortunately, the bitterness was not left in Egypt.  As previously alluded to, the B’nai Yisroel maintained a negative attitude throughout their journey to freedom. Our Rabbis, in their infinite wisdom, wanted to accentuate the positive. Hence, the Afikomen, a little piece of matzah, is used to symbolize the journey to freedom. They did not, however, want to glorify negativity. Thus, we forego making a remnant of maror a separate part of the Seder.

Our parents and/or grandparents are remembered as being part of the Great Generation for the sacrifices they made at home and abroad to further the war effort during World War Two. How do we wish to be remembered? As the generation that incessantly complained about the pandemic? Or as the generation which courageously carried on in the face of adversity?

Today we will explore the mysteries of Parshat Vayikra. First, why the name? Please open up your Chumash to the Parsha. “Vayikra el Moshe” (and G-d spoke to Moses). Hence, the name Vayikra. Right? No, wrong! That would make seem to make sense, but upon careful examination it is clear that this explanation will not suffice.  G-d frequently spoke to Moses. Moses do this. Moses tell Pharaoh. Moses speak to the Children of Israel. Moreover, Vayikra is the name of the third Book of Moses in which this Pasha resides. There must be a better explanation for this apparent redundancy.

Look again at your Chumash. You will please note an anomaly at the end of the word “Vayikra”. Do you See the small aleph at the end of the word?  Perhaps this is the key to our solution. Or perhaps the key lies in examining the main theme of the parsha.  Parshat Vayikra is laden with a detailed description of the sacrifices that people were to make to G-d for their misdeeds and the purpose underlying each sacrifice during Mishkan and Temple times. I am neither interested in debating with you the appropriateness or inappropriateness of animal sacrifice, nor I am I inclined to try to justify its usage during those times. I am eager, however, to continue exploring this mysterious parsha. But first, a little story.

Midrash Rabbah is a collection of ten books that provide narrative stories and parables on the Five Books of Moses and the Five Megillot. Vayikra Rabbah, in discussing our parsha, tells a story about a king. The king commanded his royal architect to construct a magnificent palace. An extraordinarily well-designed and beautiful palace was built and lavishly furnished and decorated. The king’s name and royal emblem were engraved on all pillars and vessels throughout the palace. The king was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of his palace and engravings. As he sat in his palace embracing the splendor of his surroundings, he suddenly felt pangs of guilt. How can I sit in my palace, he thought, while my royal architect sits alone outside in the courtyard?  The king summoned the architect to be brought into the palace to sit with him.

When Moses constructed the Mishkan in accordance with G-d’s instructions, he did so precisely and elegantly. G-d’s name was marked on every part of the Mishkan and on all its vessels. But when G-d’s Holy Presence entered the Mishkan, the humble Moses remained outside. G-d immediately called for Moses to enter the Mishkan. Not to order him to do anything. Not to order him to speak to anyone. He called to Moses for the sole purpose of joining Him in the MIshkan.  Indeed, most unusual. Don’t you agree that the name given to the Parsha is perfect?

But wait! This still doesn’t explain the small aleph at the end of the word “Vayikra” or how the theme of sacrifice relates to the name of the parsha. Could it be that the name of the parsha conveys some lesson? Precisely! Parshat Vayikra teaches us the attribute of humility. Even though Moses was allowed to engage in direct communications with G-d, he nevertheless remained the humblest of men. The small aleph at the end of the word “Vayikra” stands for “ani”.  “Ani” means “I”. If I make myself small. If I humble myself. I too can become elevated in the eyes of others. Also, I can become better equipped to avoid sin. Now that I am able to avoid sin, there will be no need for me to bring sacrificial offerings.

Good Shabbos and thank you for joining me on this mysterious journey.

Haazinu Hashamayim Va’adaberah: “Incline your ear, O Heaven, and I will speak.”  This begins the song  that Moshe is instructed by G-d to prepare for the children of Israel. Why Haazinu rather than Shema?  The word haazin connotes a greater readiness to perceive and accept that which is being spoken than  does the word shema (to hear). Words can be heard without being followed. Moshe wants the Children  of Israel to understand that his song conveys a warning to them not to forsake G-d. He understood that   it is the nature of people to take good things for granted and complain when times are tough. G-d, he   notes, is perfect and His actions are perfect. All His ways are just even when we endure hardships. When  we turn away from G-d, have we forgotten that He made us and established us? Is this how you repay   G-d queries Moshe?

In verse 32:7, Moshe tells the people to remember the days of yore and to understand the years from  one generation and another. Ask your father so that he may tell you. Ask your elders so that they may  explain it to you. What exactly is Moshe trying to convey? The Midrash Rabbah, a commentary on the   Book of Deuteronomy, explains that whenever G-d brings suffering to you in this world, remember the  good things that He will give you in the next world. Isn’t that asking a lot of people? Are people really  expected to overlook their suffering by looking forward to good things in the World to Come?

The Chofetz Chaim was confronted with this question. He provided the following parable as an answer.  A Jew rented an apartment from the non-Jewish governor of the city. On an appointed date once per  year he would appear before the governor and pay the annual rental fee of 300 rubles. One year,   however, the governor was forced to leave town and appointed the deputy to manage things in his  absence.  The deputy was a well-known Jew hater. When the Jew came to pay rent, the deputy advised  him that the rent had been raised from 300 to 500 rubles. The Jew only had 480 rubles and pleaded for time to raise the additional 20 rubles. The deputy warned him to pay 500 rubles by the end of the day  or face the consequences. Despite his best efforts, the Jew was not able to come up with the additional  20 rubles. He returned at the end of the day and paid 480 rubles to the deputy. The deputy then  ordered that the Jew receive 20 lashes — one for each missing ruble. When the governor returned to  the city, the Jew informed him of what had occurred. The governor was furious. He returned the 180  ruble overpayment to the Jew and provided 2000 rubles compensation for the lashes the Jew had  received. The deputy had recently built a new home having a value of 4000 rubles. He ordered the  deputy to sign over a deed to the Jew making the Jew a one-half owner of his home. When the Jew  returned home, he was noticeably sullen. His wife asked him what was wrong and he explained what  had taken place at his meeting with the governor. The wife was confused. “Why aren’t you bursting with  joy?”, she asked. The Jew responded that he was sad that the deputy had not given him 40 lashes. This is how it is with us, concluded the Chofetz Chaim. When a person endures hardship and suffering in this  life he becomes very distraught. When he arrives in the World to Come and becomes aware of the  enormous reward he has earned for enduring his suffering, he may regret that he did not suffer even  more.

G-d advises Moshe that the time for him to die has come. He tells Moshe to go to the top of Mount  Nebo before he dies so that he can look down on Canaan, the land to be given to the Children of Israel.  Moshe is surely disappointed, but he doesn’t complain. Moshe is never seen again.

Good Shabbos.

It seems like only yesterday. However, seventy-five, eighty years have passed since the Holocaust.  My  heart bleeds when I think about the loss of my ancestors. My soul cries out in pain for them and the millions who were slaughtered.  What was their sin to lead to such a terrible end?  Being Jewish? They were flesh and blood ordinary people leading ordinary lives.  As I engulf myself in prayer this Rosh  Hashanah, I wonder what they may have prayed.  I suspect they also prayed for forgiveness for sins. Did they also pray to be spared from the ravages of the Holocaust?  They did not survive, but I believe that their faith did not waiver.  Some survived and bore children. Their children had children who in turn had children. So, here I stand among you today.

As I pray for a good New Year and for forgiveness for my sins, I think about a film that Terry and I viewed during the year. It was titled “No Place on Earth”. It is the true story of Ukrainian Jews who lived underground for nearly one and one-half years to escape the horrors of the Holocaust. It is the longest recorded underground survival experience in history. One scene shows them praying on Yom Kippur. I wonder what form their prayers took? Was it their fervent prayer merely to survive the next year and not meet a horrific death? This is what many must have prayed on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur not that long ago. I recognize that I (no, we) have an obligation in regard to those who perished or suffered during the Holocaust for no reason other than they were Jewish.  Our duty to them, it seems to me, extends beyond Tefilla, Teshuva and Tzedakah. Don’t take me wrong. This threesome remains the formula for removal of any bad decree on the Day of Judgment that may await us. You may recall that last Rosh Hashanah I spoke about the importance of this threesome and suggested that Tefilla may be the most difficult of the three to achieve. Isn’t human nature to make New Year’s resolutions that turn out to be short-lived? Next year I will control my weight. After a week or so of dieting, it’s back to old habits.  Do we not make similar commitments on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur? Grant me a good year and next year I will do better. Forgive my sins and next year I will sin less. Accept my pleas of atonement and I will attend services more frequently and even give charity.

I contend that the application of the three-part formula alone does not relieve us of our independent obligation to the victims of the Holocaust. What we owe them is the survival of Judaism. That belief system which arose at Mount Sinai as the throngs received the Torah while proclaiming “We will do and then we will hear”.  It is the religion of our ancestors. It is the religion that survived Amalek, Haman and Hitler. It is the descendants of those people who, although dispersed and slaughtered during the Babylonian and Roman exiles, steadfastly remained the Children of Israel. It is the scattered remnants of the Inquisition and the Holocaust.

How do we fulfill our solemn duty to the victims of the Holocaust? How do we demonstrate our concern for our brethren in Israel who continue to give their lives to preserve our Jewish heritage and protect our G-d given land of Israel? How do we recognize and appreciate their sacrifice?  When we pray for ourselves, our loved ones and others during these Yomim Noraim (days of awe), we should also reflect on the fallen of our people who perished only because they were Jewish. Some died to perpetuate Judaism. Others made the ultimate sacrifice to sustain our cultural and religious beliefs.  When given the opportunity to pray we should grasp it and not make excuses.  We should regularly attend Kehilla services, and excuse me for asking, on time. We should never hesitate to ask G-d for help and forgiveness. But why limit ourselves to requesting only Divine forgiveness?  Shouldn’t we also seek forgiveness from people who we have wronged?  Also, shouldn’t we give charity and display generosity? After all, acts of charitable benevolence and the performance of mitzvot not only benefit others, but they also benefit ourselves.  Moreover, they serve as a fitting tribute to the memory of those who have preceded us. And please don’t forget to thank G-d occasionally for all the good He does for you.

So, as we join today to pray for a good year and for forgiveness by the Almighty for ourselves, our loved ones, family members and others let us also remember to thank G-d for providing us a safe and peaceful existence. And let us not forget the past and our sacred duty to perpetuate Judaism.

Yes, it seems like only yesterday. . .

May G-d grant all of us a good, healthy and blessed year and a year of peace and safety.

Va’eschanan means and I pled. Who pled and to whom? Pled for what? What was the result? Before I delve further into this, allow me to briefly discuss a matter of interest. It is stated in a Midrash that Moshe offered 515 prayers to Hashem to beg to be allowed to enter the Promised Land. You may be aware that each letter in the Hebrew alphabet has a numerical value assigned to it.  Aleph has the value 1. The numbering system assigns 1-9 to the first nine letters, 10-90 by tens to the next nine letters and 100-400 by hundreds to the last four letters. The numerical value of Va’eschanan is 515. Another word having a numerical value of 515 is tefillah which means prayer. Coincidence? When the name of  G-d having the numerical value of 26 is added to 515, the end result is 541. This is precisely the numerical value of Yisroel. This is particularly intriguing since the opening of the Parsha reflects that Moshe pled to G-d to be allowed to enter the Promised Land. No need to delve further into my opening questions since they have all now been answered. This marvelous Parsha does not end here.

Contained within the Parsha are found the V’ahavta and Shema paragraphs. Also, we find the Ten Commandments. Moshe implores the people to follow the commandments and remember that G-d brought them out of the land of Egypt. Make certain, he cautions, that you teach your children and grandchildren to understand these concepts. He notes that G-d got angry with him as a result of actions that he (Moshe) took on their behalf. He would not, as a consequence, be allowed to enter the Promised Land. He informs everyone that he appoints Joshua to lead them into Canaan.

One of the most powerful statements found in the Parsha reflects that one must safeguard the commandments given by Hashem by neither adding nor subtracting from them. Now, I can certainly appreciate that subtracting from the Commandments should be a no-no. But what’s the harm in doing more than is required? Consider the following story related by Rabbi Yonasan Eybeschutz. He told of someone who suffered from stomach pain. The man went to his doctor seeking relief and the doctor prescribed some medicine. The doctor instructed the man to take one teaspoon in the morning and one at night. The man was so overjoyed he would soon be healed that he gulped down the entire bottle. Needless to say, the man became seriously ill after this foolhardy lack of good judgment. Rabbi Eybeschutz concluded that just as a patient must understand to take only that amount of medicine prescribed by his doctor, so too must we understand not to add or subtract from the mitzvot that Hashem commands us.

Another wonderful story is from the Dubno Maggid. He explains the statement from a different perspective. He told of an individual who asked his neighbor to borrow a spoon. The next day he returned the spoon together with an additional small spoon. The neighbor asked why two spoons were being returned. The man explained that the loaned spoon was pregnant and gave birth to the little spoon. Although the neighbor truly believed that the man was unstable, he nevertheless accepted the two spoons without further comment. A few days later the man asked his neighbor to borrow a cup. The neighbor eagerly consented. The man returned the next day with two cups claiming that the cup was pregnant and had given birth to the second cup. The neighbor was all too anxious to lend the man a pair of silver candlesticks. Several days passed and the man did not return with the candlesticks. The neighbor asked the man what happened to his candlesticks. The man, with a sorrowful look on his face, responded that unfortunately the candlesticks died. The neighbor complained that no one ever heard of candlesticks passing away. The man responded, “Who ever heard of a pregnant spoon or cup?”  Thus, cautioned the Dubno Maggid, just like borrowing requires precision so too does the observance of mitzvot.

Yes, such a wonderful Parsha.