With all the wacky wokey warriors spewing hatred for Israel and Jews on college campuses and city streets, one could be forgiven for not noticing the proliferation of anti-Semites on the other end of the political spectrum.
But they’re there, and, in a way, more threatening. You can read about some of them here.
The turnout at a Manhattan “Jewish Reconstructionist” congregation’s election night watch party was emblematic of something about the future of American Jewry. To read what, click here.
In the maelstrom of what passes for political discourse these days, the Jewish imperative of hakaras hatov is too often missing in action. A piece I wrote about the outgoing administration is here.
Rabi Akiva, the Midrash (Beraishis Rabbah, 58:3) recounts, once sought to awaken some students who were nodding off by quoting the opening pasuk of the parsha: “And the life of Sarah was one hundred years, and twenty years, and seven years, the years of the life of Sarah”(Bereishis, 23:1).
“Why,” he asked, “was it that Esther ruled over one hundred and twenty-seven provinces? Because Esther, who was the descendant of Sarah, who lived one hundred and twenty-seven years, would rule over one hundred and twenty-seven provinces.”
Many explanations of that strange juxtaposition have been offered. What occurs to me is that almost all that we know about Sarah is that she caused Hagar to flee from Avraham and Sarah’s home and then, after the maidservant’s return, banished her and her son Yishmael because of the latter’s sinful actions (see Rashi ibid 21:9). Yishmael’s character and tendencies, she feared, might come to influence Sarah’s own child, Yitzchak.
Esther spent most of her life in a foreign environment, as queen of ancient Persia (and its 127 provinces). But she maintained her connection throughout with her cousin Mordechai and their faith. She was impervious to the influence of her surroundings.
Perhaps that was what Rabi Akiva’s confounding comparison was meant to convey: that Sarah’s alacrity and vigilance regarding Yitzchak provided her descendant Esther the ability to withstand the influence of her environment.
And it may be that Rabi Akiva’s use of that thought as a literal “wake-up” call to the students was itself part of the lesson, namely that one has to be, as Sarah was, wide awake and fully aware of one’s surroundings, lest their undesirable elements infiltrate his life, or that of those for whom he is responsible.
© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran
It could have been a launch pad for a vehicle to reach the moon. Or a panopticon to monitor people over a large distance. Those are two of the suggested theories for why the people of Bavel sought to build an unprecedentedly tall tower. The first suggestion was put forth by Rav Yonasan Eibschutz; the second, by the Netziv.
Whatever the builders’ aim was, though, it was a development that, as the Torah recounts, merited divine interference. But the words introducing the endeavor are strange. The would-be builders said to one another:
“‘Come, let us mold bricks and bake them well.’ They then had the bricks to use as stone, and the clay for mortar” (Beraishis, 11:3).” What is the significance of their mode of construction?
In 1927, Tomáš Masaryk, then-president of then-Czechoslovakia and a leader friendly to Jews, visited the Yishuv in Eretz Yisrael and was received by its leader, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld.
According to the book about Rav Sonnenfeld, Ha’ish al Hachomah, one of the things he discussed with the European leader was the danger posed by technological advances. And he pointed to the pasuk above as an example of how such progress is often born of a misguided attempt to deny the ultimate importance of Hashem. The Bavel builders, he explained, shunned the natural stone available to them, opting instead for their advanced “brick technology.” In so doing, they were declaring their “independence” from the divine.
I’m reminded of the story of the group of scientists who inform Hashem that His services are no longer needed, that their knowledge of the universe now allows them to run it just fine themselves, thank You.
“Can you create life like I did?” the Creator asks. “No problem,” they reply as they confidently gather some dirt and fiddle with the settings on their shiny biologocyclotron.
“Excuse Me,” interrupts the heavenly voice. “Get your own dirt.”
Or, as Carl Sagan said, “If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.”
© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran
You can read why here.
It’s odd that, when Moshe Rabbeinu and Yehoshua transmit the shirah of Haazinu to the people, the Torah refers to Yehoshua as Hoshea (Devarim 32:44), his original name. Moshe, of course, had changed his eventual successor’s name 40 years earlier.
Rashi and others suggest that the use of Yehoshua’s original name alludes to the fact that, even as he was about to become the leader of Klal Yisrael, Yehoshua’s original name is used to show that he maintained the humility that had always been part of his character.
A twist on that observation is suggested by Meshulam Fayish Tzvi Gross (who had a weekly chavrusa in Kabbalah with Rav Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn; and who, as Herman Gross, patented several inventions).
In his sefer Nachalas Tzvi, Rabbi Gross calls attention to the differential of circumstances between when Moshe changed Yehoshua’s name and when, in our parshah, the latter’s original name is employed.
When Hoshea bin Nun was faced with the need to stand up to the other scouts of Eretz Cna’an, to have the independence, clearheadedness and courage necessary to state the facts about the land, Then, Moshe was telling Hoshea, who was exceedingly humble (as Sifri in Shelach notes), to recognize his greatness, his ability to oppose the other meraglim’s report, to not succumb to peer pressure, to have full confidence in himself.
Moshe expressed his hope that Hashem would aid him in that. And so he added a hint to Hashem’s name to Hoshea’s – saying, “May Hashem save you from the intrigue of the scouts” (Sotah 34b).
Now, though, as Moshe is preparing Yehoshua to lead the people into Eretz Yisrael, posits Rabbi Gross, the Torah uses Yehoshua’s original name pointedly, as a message to him – that the independence and bravado that were necessary back when the land was being scouted are not longer needed for – in fact, in a sense diametric to – the assumption of leadership.
A true leader needs what was Yehoshua’s essence: humility.
It’s a lesson that most contemporary leaders seem ignorant of, and would do well to absorb.
© 2024 Rabbi Avi Shafran
We have Tucker Carlson to thank for creating some long-needed pan-partisan unity of late. To read how he managed that, please click here.
Did you know that the Torah says to vote for Kamala Harris? Or that she’s a radical socialist? Me neither. And what “socialism” encompasses might surprise you. You can read my thoughts on the matter here.
A piece I wrote about the U.N.’s sad decline (and worse) is here.