Moshe’s Prayer (pdf)

Since this week is Parashas Ki Sisa, where Moshe asked G-d not to destroy the nation after the golden calf, I am posting a pdf version of the short book I published 7 years ago, discussing the discrepancy between how Moshe’s prayer is presented in this Parasha (at the end of the first set of 40 days, before the golden calf was destroyed) and how his prayer is presented in Parashas Eikev (during the middle set of 40 days, after the golden calf was destroyed).

Many other issues regarding the three sets of 40 days are discussed, including where Moshe was for the middle set of 40 days. For a fuller discussion of that issue, please see dmkjewishgeography.wordpress.com on this Parasha.

closer-look-moshe-prayerDownload

Primer on Israeli-Palestinian Arab Conflict

Because there is so much misinformation out there, I felt the need to write a relatively short primer on the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinian Arabs. The historical information I am sharing here should be relatively easy to research, as long as the search is for real information, not propaganda. (But beware, because propaganda is often disguised as real information.) Nuances are important, but in order to write just an article, rather than a book, generalizing (and summarizing) was necessary.

THE SHORT VERSION

The disputed area, between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, had, at one point in history, primarily Jewish residents, while, at another point in history, had primarily Arab residents. There are therefore dueling narratives, with each side insisting that the land belongs to them. The only way to achieve piece is to transition from dueling narratives to dual narratives, with each side acknowledging the other’s narrative, and being willing to work out a way to share the land (whether as one country that protects the lives, lifestyles and interests of both sides or as two separate countries that do not try to conquer each other).

Whether this is achievable is, at best, arguable, but attempting to find a solution is not the point of this piece.

HOW IT STARTED

There is indisputable evidence of the Jewish presence in the land, going back to biblical times. (That doesn’t prevent those acting in bad faith from disputing this, which is part of the “dueling narratives” problem, but it is indisputable, even using pre-1948 Arab sources.) The Romans exiled most of the Jews when they destroyed the Second Temple, which stood on the Temple Mount, in 70CE, almost 2,000 years ago.

Despite the exile, there was still a small Jewish presence throughout history. Over time, Arabs started moving in, and eventually became the majority. But even when there were more Arabs than Jews, the vast majority of the land was still vacant.

THE BRITISH MANDATE

Over the years, the land changed hands between numerous rulers, including Islamic rulers. (This is important, because under Islamic law once a land is under Muslim rule, it is supposed to stay that way forever, and if ever lost, it becomes a priority to recapture it.) After World War I, it was assigned to Great Britain as part of the British Mandate. The area was referred to as Palestine (or something similar) when it was still under Roman control (and after the Roman Empire collapsed), and this was the name used under the British Mandate. Anyone living in Palestine was referred to as “Palestinian,” whether they were Jewish or Arab; there are therefore both Palestinian Jews and Palestinian Arabs.

It should be noted that the British Mandate also included land on the east side of the Jordan River, known as Trans-Jordan, and Palestinian Arabs lived (and still live) on both sides of the Jordan (on both the east bank and the west bank). Although some have argued that, if the land was to be divided between Jews and Arabs, Trans-Jordan should be included, because Jordan and Israel have a peace treaty, and the border between Israel and Jordan has been the quietest, this has not been part of any official discussion.

JEWISH IMMIGRATION

Because of Russian pogroms, more Jews started to move to Palestine, buying property and building kibbutzim. This started at the end of the 19^th century, when Palestine was still under Ottoman rule, and continued in the early 20^th century, under British rule. There were no “expulsions,” and no Jewish State, but there were Arab attacks on Jews. World War II brought more tension, and Jewish Brigades formed to fight alongside Britain, while the Arabs sided with the Nazis. The tension that persisted after the war led to Britain wanting to vacate the area, and eventually to a U.N. Partition plan that designated part of Palestine for a Jewish state and part for an Arab state.

ISRAEL’S WAR OF INDEPENDENCE

The Arabs rejected the partition plan, and started a war to prevent a Jewish state from becoming a reality. During the war, many Palestinian Arabs fled. Some were told to flee by the Arab armies who promised they could return after they won the war, while others fled out of fear. Palestinian Arabs claim they were forced out of their homes, but it would be next to impossible to verify, or ascertain how many. This is the “Nakba” Palestinian Arabs refer to. In 1967, as the neighboring Arab countries prepared to attack Israel, a pre-emptive strike was made, and the rest of the land to the west of the Jordan River came under Israeli control.

PALESTINIAN ARAB IDENTITY

Although originally the Arabs who lived in Palestine had no separate “Palestinian Arab” identity (they were just “Arabs,” just as “Palestinian Jews” had no separate identity but were just “Jews”), the shared experiences they had of leaving or being forced to leave the homes their families had in Palestine and now living in refugee camps, created a new “Palestinian Arab” identity. Nevertheless, many Israelis do not acknowledge this identity, which has led to additional tension (as the desire of these Israelis to end such an identity and either have these Arabs return to the Arab lands of their ancestors or live within Israel, is perceived as genocide).

THE SETTLEMENTS

After 1967, Israel was politically split, with some advocating for a “Greater Israel” that included the land conquered during the Six-Day War (which was historically part of the Land of Israel), and others advocating to give almost all of the land back to the Arabs. However, even those who supported a two-state solution recognized that Israel needed defensible borders, so some of the land that came under its control in 1967 would need to stay under its control, with a land swap replacing it and an equivalent amount of land from within the post-1948 borders being given to the Arabs in its place.

There were therefore certain post-1967 areas that, from both perspectives, would remain part of Israel, and communities were built there. It should be noted that it took a lot of bravery to become pioneers in these communities, but Yasir Arafat, the head of the PLO, proclaiming that no Jew would be allowed to live in Palestine took away any fear that if land conquered in 1967 was given back they would end up living in an Arab country. It also motivated many in the “Greater Israel” camp to build additional communities, as they could then create “facts on the ground” that would make it more difficult to give land back.

THE ONGOING CONFLICT

Palestinian Arabs want to reclaim all of Palestine, with some refusing to acknowledge or recognize Israel, and therefore unwilling to negotiate with it (e.g. Hamas), and others willing to negotiate in order to establish a Palestinian Arab State that would eventually take over all of Israel. There might be some Palestinian Arabs who would prefer to live in peace with Israel and build normal lives for themselves, but we never hear from them, possibly because they would be mistreated by the Palestinian Arabs in control if they spoke out publicly. Israel is split between those who don’t want a Palestinian Arab State – either because they believe in a “Greater Israel” or because they are afraid that it would just become a terror base to attack Israel (as Gaza proved to be when it was handed over to Palestinian Arabs) – and those who want a Palestinian Arab State existing peacefully alongside Israel. The constant terror attacks against Israel has moved most of the country to the right, and eroded belief that there can ever be peace.

Israel’s objective is to continue to exist; if there were no attacks on Israel, there would be no war. If Palestinian Arabs wouldn’t attack, two things would happen, and a third might happen. First, it would mean they gave up on their dream of kicking out all of the Jews “from the river to the sea” and taking over all of Israel. Second, it would end their immense suffering and allow them to start building their lives, much as Arabs who live within Israel have built their lives. The third thing is that we could see if Israel is a true democracy, by allowing it to drop any differences between how Jews are treated and how Arabs are treated. For now, though, there are legitimate security concerns that prevent fully equal treatment (such as checkpoints and how resources are allocated). It would also force Israel to decide between a “Greater Israel” and an Israel willing to allow a peaceful Palestine on land that is, historically, part of the Land of Israel. But until Palestine is peaceful, the only decisions Israel can make are how to best protect its citizens.

WHAT NEXT?

Things keep changing, day to day and hour to hour, so laying out the next steps will likely be outdated by the time you read this. Will we ever get to the point where the Palestinian Arab leadership abandons its goal to destroy Israel completely? I think the better question is if we’ll ever get to the point where the west (e.g. the United States and the European Union) forces both sides to acknowledge the other’s narrative, so that we can transition from dueling narratives to a dual narrative.

Shabbos Nachamu 5783

“For she has received double for all her sins” (Yeshayah 40:2, Artscroll Milstein edition translation). One of the foundations of Judaism is that G-d is just. But if He is just, how could His nation have been punished twice as severely as was deserved? (Artscroll did an admirable job summarizing the traditional approaches to this question in the notes to this verse; I will try to do the same, and, in doing so, perhaps bring out some additional thoughts and ideas.)

THE TRADITIONAL APPROACHES

The Targum avoids the issue, translating the verse as “for she has received a cup of consolation from G-d as if she had been smitten double for all her sins.” Instead of the “twice as much” referring to the punishment, it refers to receiving a double-dose of consolation.

Rashi quotes the Targum, but then says that the “double-dose” could refer to the punishment, adding “and if you’ll ask how could the Holy One, Blessed is He, operate [that way], to repay a person double his sin, this is put forth in a verse itself (Yirmiyah 16:18): ‘and I first repaid double their sin and transgression.” Although Rashi asks the question, he never really answers it, he just “proves” that that is how G-d operates. Interestingly, Rashi there (in Yirmiyah) doesn’t explain the verse to mean that they will receive a double punishment, but that they repeated the sins of their fathers. [Also interesting is that Rashi then quotes the Targum as saying that G-d will punish them twice as hard, which is what the Targum tries to avoid in our verse. Although this is the way the Targum reads in standard editions, in critical editions, based on manuscripts, the Targum does not include the words “two-for-one.” It should be noted, though, that  both Rashi and Radak quote the Targum as we have it in our editions.] Despite Rashi’s contention that there is an explicit verse that tells us that G-d (sometimes) gives a double-punishment, since there are other ways to explain it (including how Rashi himself explains it!) that verse cannot really “prove” this.

Most of the commentators I have seen explain the “double” in Yirmiyah to refer to the sins; the only one I have found who explains it as a “double punishment” is Radak. But he explains it there(in Yirmiyah) differently than the way he explains the “double-punishment” in Yishayah, where he says it refers to being punished twice; once after the destruction of the First Temple (the Babylonian exile) and once after the destruction of the Second Temple (the current exile). Radak then quotes three additional approaches, Ibn Ezra’s, his father’s and the Targum. His father’s approach is the one he uses (without quoting him) to explain the double-punishment in Yirmiyah. [Aside from being surprised that Radak didn’t mention his father in Yirmiyah, I am puzzled that he strays so far from the plain meaning of the verse in Yishayah, where the only punishment being discussed is the destruction of the First Temple.]

The approach Radak quotes from his father, based on Yirmiyah’s words in Eichah (5:7), is that the generation of the destruction was punished not only for their own sins, but for the sins of their fathers, hence they received a “double-punishment.”  In Yirmiyah, Radak quotes Shemos 20:5, that G-d “accounts for the sin of the fathers on the sons,” which, he adds, only occurs when the sons “take hold of the actions of their fathers in their hands,” i.e. continue sinning. Sons getting punished for their fathers’ sins raises a similar issue of unjust punishment, but at least there is another factor involved that may change the equation (i.e. the sin may be worse, or do more damage, if it is now a second-generation sin, thereby bringing a harsher punishment, as opposed to getting twice the punishment the sin deserves).

Ibn Ezra says that G-d is acknowledging that His nation suffered twice as much as other nations.

R’ Eliezer MiBalgantzi changes the equation, telling us that “double” does not refer to how much punishment was deserved, but the amount of punishment that was necessary to get the message across; the sins were so bad that it took twice the normal amount of suffering for a change to occur.

Abarbanel takes the opposite approach; we were told that we were punished more harshly than we deserved (even though we really did deserve it) in order to console us. In other words, part of the consolation was making it seem as if we weren’t as bad as we really were.

R’ Yosef Kara (Mahari Kara; the standard edition doesn’t flow well, so I am basing this on a critical edition), like the Targum, understands the “double” as referring to getting a double-consolation, but bases it on the double-wording of “speaking to” and “calling to,” i.e. they are being consoled twice.

R’ Yosef Kaspi tells us that even though the word used (kiflayim”) literally means “double,” as an expression it just means “a lot,” i.e. we suffered to a very large degree because of our sins (but not that we suffered more than we deserved).

Malbim says the verse is a consolation about the future, and equates it with our enduring 430 years’ worth of suffering in Egypt over 210 years; because the suffering was harsher, the length of the suffering was shorter. Similarly, if the ultimate redemption must come through our paying for our sins, we will experience the full amount of suffering over a shorter period of time (making it seem as if we are receiving a double-punishment).

A DIFFERENT (BUT STILL TRADITIONAL) APPROACH

In his commentary to Eichah (Palgay Mayim 1:5), Rav Yaakov Lorberbaum (Rav Yaakov MiLissa, most widely known as “The Nesivos”) explains that as a result of our sins, G-d stopped being directly involved with us, and left us to fend for ourselves. The verse tells us that “the young ones were taken captive,” to prove this. After all, young children could not have sinned, so G-d could not have been punishing them, yet they suffered too. Only if G-d was no longer directly involved could those who did not deserve punishment also experience suffering.

Once left to “happenstance,” the suffering endured no longer needs to correlate with our actions. As the Meiri (Soteh 2a) puts it, the punishment for not deserving divine protection is being subject to whatever happenstance dictates.  (Happenstance is the sum of numerous factors, including the natural laws, the results/consequences of human choices and collateral damage of divine decrees against others.) If we are not connected with G-d, He does not protect us (see Rambam, Moreh N’vuchim 3:18 and 3:51), and no matter what happens, it is not “unjust,” since being subject to the perils of happenstance is the punishment for not being connected to G-d.

Experiencing suffering twice as harsh as the punishment for a sin only contradicts the notion of G-d being just if it was inflicted directly by G-d as the specific punishment for the sin. The “double-suffering” the nation experienced, however, was a function of their not being connected to, and therefore not being protected by, G-d.

Pesach 5783

“In each and every generation, a person is obligated to see himself as if he left Egypt” (Pesachim 10:5/116b, codified by Rambam in Hilchos Matza 7:6, and included in the Haggada). Although the Exodus occurred over 3,300 years ago, we are apparently supposed to convince ourselves that we were actually there, marching out of Egypt shortly after eating from the first Korban Pesach, chased out by the Egyptians who were afraid that the 10^th plague would kill more than just the firstborn. Seems like a pretty tall order.

Yes, I know the commentators tie it to something from the beginning of the Haggada, that if G-d had not taken us out of Egypt we would still be there, subservient to whomever was in power there now – so in a sense taking the Children of Israel out then allows us to still be out today. Nevertheless, most of us are blessed to live in a democracy, so the notion that we would be subject to the authority of a tyrannical government is hard to envision. (And those actually living under such conditions may find it difficult to appreciate why their current situation is better than things were then.) Is part of the obligation learning  all the Midrashim that describe what life was like in Egypt, or to become an expert in Egyptian history in order to understand what being a slave there meant, in order to picture ourselves being part of the 600,000 (or 2 million) that left Egypt on the 15^th of Nissan in 2448?

On a larger scale, how are we supposed to be thankful that G-d freed us from being slaves if He arranged for us to become slaves in the first place?

Egypt is compared to an “iron (smelting) furnace” (D’varim 4:20 and M’lachim I 8:51). As numerous commentators (e.g. Kli Yakar) explain, the reason G-d caused us to go through those experiences in Egypt was to remove our impurities, so that we would become worthy of being His nation. Was it a rough experience? Sure. But one that was necessary, and extremely beneficial (or G-d wouldn’t have put us through it). Without it, we wouldn’t have been able to receive the Torah, and continue the mission initiated by our Patriarchs.

In hindsight, we can appreciate this, especially since we didn’t experience the slavery personally. But it puts the Exodus in a dual perspective: Those who were there in 2448 could appreciate the transition from slavery to freedom, and those who lived (and live) in subsequent generations could appreciate the entire process, from the time we became slaves – and ultimately became better because of it – until today, when we are still working on fulfilling the purpose of creation.

Can we create a mindset where we envision ourselves being slaves in Egypt, experience the Exodus personally, and therefore appreciate and be thankful for the micro-transition from slavery to freedom the way our ancestors did over 3,300 years ago? We can certainly try! As we say in the Haggada, “we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and G-d took us out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” But we can also look at the bigger picture, how we, so many years, centuries and millennia later, can appreciate and be thankful for the macro-transition of one small family into the nation that left Egypt prepared to fulfill G-d’s purpose. As we also say in the Haggada, “originally our fore-fathers were pagans, but now G-d has drawn us closer to His service.”

We aren’t just commemorating the Exodus and all the miracles that occurred then, but rededicating ourselves to being part of the continuing history of the Jewish people, with much more left to accomplish. In each and every generation, we are obligated to see ourselves as if we personally “left Egypt,” prepared and ready to do whatever it takes to get the job done.

Vayeira 5782

Just a quick (read: not fully researched, nor sourced) thought to answer a question posed by some: How could Lot have successfully saved Tzoar, one of the cities G-d was planning to destroy along with Sodom, when Avraham was unable to. (If you need more background, this piece is not directed to you; perhaps I will flesh it out sometime in the future and explain the question more fully, as well as the things I will pull together to suggest an answer. I apologize for not having the time to do so now.)

The question can be expanded because, as I’ve previously explained – Parashas B’reishis 5773 | RabbiDMK (wordpress.com) – G-d has bound Himself to the laws of nature, so whatever event caused the destruction of Sodom and it’s neighboring cities, either should have destroyed Tzoar too, or would not have destroyed Tzoar anyway; Lot’s request shouldn’t have made a difference.

Even though in the referenced piece I explained how G-d could still “tinker” with what happens if He doesn’t change nature, the destruction of Sodom creates a larger issue, because it was most likely caused by a meteor that disintegrated shortly before it would have hit the ground there – A Tunguska sized airburst destroyed Tall el-Hammam a Middle Bronze Age city in the Jordan Valley near the Dead Sea (nature.com) – so adjusting things slightly should not have been able to save any nearby city.

However, the location of Tzoar (and Sodom itself) is not fully agreed upon. Most understand it to be just south of the Dead Sea, which helps them place Sodom east of the Dead Sea, close to its southern end. But, as you may have noticed from my earlier link, I am fairly convinced that Sodom was north of the Dead Sea, just east of the Jordan, close to opposite where Yericho is to the west of the Jordan (see Discovering the City of Sodom: The Fascinating, True Account of the Discovery of the Old Testament’s Most Infamous City: Collins, Dr. Steven: 9781451684384: Amazon.com: Books ). This was part of “Kikar HaYarden,” the fertile circle that sits on top of the Dead Sea, which was well-watered, and could be seen by Avraham and Lot when Lot chose it upon their decision to separate (as opposed to anywhere to the east or south of the Dead Sea). If Sodom was directly north of the Dead Sea, how could Tzoar, one of the cities that was part of its metropolis, be south of the Dead Sea? Isn’t that too far away?

Our presumption that Tzoar was part of the same metropolis comes from last week’s Parasha, the war of the five kings vs. the four kings, with Tzoar being included as part of the five, along with Sodom and Amorah (and two others). But it is mentioned as a kind of an after-thought there, so may not have been in the same proximity with Sodom as the other three, but was close enough, and vested enough in fighting the dominion of the four kings, to join the four cities north of the Dead Sea in their war.

If so, it can be suggested that Tzoar was in fact not close enough to Sodom to be destroyed with it, and wouldn’t have been destroyed anyway (although Lot didn’t know that). The question now shifts from “how could Lot have saved Tzoar” to “why was Lot led to believe that it was only being saved for him, it if wasn’t going to be destroyed anyway?” That’s not as challenging a question, and could merely be a matter of them not correcting his misperception, and allowing him to believe it was being saved for his sake in the hope that it would lead to his feeling responsible to help them live more appropriate lives.

Yes, I know, this goes against the traditionally-accepted view that Avraham was trying to save 5 cities, with his “50 righteous people” corresponding to 10 per city. We’ll leave that for a different discussion. (For all we know, Avraham thought all five cities were included in the decree!) But this possibility provides a viable approach to not only how Tzoar could be so far from Sodom (as it actually HAD to be far from Sodom), but how Lot could accomplish what Avraham couldn’t (he didn’t).

Do We Have Free Will?

Do we have free will?

Well, before we can answer whether or not we do, we need to define what free will is. Let’s start with what it is not:

Choosing between a cinnamon donut and a chocolate donut is NOT a function of free will. It is a matter of preference. Unless you know that someone else greatly prefers one over the other, and you choose the other one. (We’ll get back to this later.)

As a matter of fact, over 99% of all decisions made are not a function of free will, putting aside the decision not to exercise free will before making the decision.

So which decisions are a function of free will? Those made knowing that the choice is between right and wrong (or between good and evil, or as Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler, who wrote extensively on this topic, put it, between truth and falsehood). If you recognize that one thing is the right thing to do (or not do) while the other is the wrong thing to do (or not do), and there is an internal struggle over which way to proceed, choosing one over the other might be a function of free will.

We all have preferences. And we all have biases. Our genetics make us predisposed towards certain things; it is our “nature.” Our life experiences shape who we are as well; it is our “nurture.” All of these things contribute to the starting point of the decision-making process.

But that is only the starting point, the point at which our physical bodies “decide” what it wants. This “decision” can be measured scientifically, and is almost always the final decision. But not always.

Before we carry out that “decision,” in our example above, choosing one donut over the other, we have the ability to override it. (Believe it or not, I am oversimplifying things a bit here, and those familiar with Rabbi Dessler’s concept of the ever-changing range of free will understand that I am not getting into that here.) Let’s examine how, or why, one might consider overriding the preliminary “decision” of eating the chocolate donut rather than the cinnamon one, even if he or she prefers the chocolate one.

If this was occurring in a complete vacuum, where one donut will not be eaten by anyone, and the only question is which one to eat, with the caloric content being the same (so choosing one over the other is not a health-conscious decision), there is no “right” or “wrong” involved. The decision is not a function of free will, and there would be no reason to override it.

Of course donuts are not too healthy, so there might be a valid reason to override the decision to eat any donut. But that decision (whether or not to eat a donut) will only be a function of free will if there is a recognition that it is better not to have a donut, coupled with a desire to have one, and an internal struggle whether or not to. (The body itself trying to decide whether its preference to have a donut is stronger than its preference to be healthy, or vice versa, does not qualify as “free will.” It is only after the body has determined what its preference is, and the mind can then evaluate that decision to determine if it is the right decision, that free will enters the picture.) Our example, though, is the decision to choose one flavor over the other, not whether or not to eat a donut.

Things very rarely occur in a vacuum, so most likely the uneaten donut will be eaten by someone else. Making the unselfish decision to eat the less-preferred donut so that some else can have the one they prefer may be a function of free will, as might be the decision to eat the preferred donut despite knowing that the other person prefers it as well. Or, one might choose not to even consider the ramifications of which donut to take, which, in and of itself might be a function of free will, but then the decision as to which donut to choose is not.

The bottom line is that (1) almost all decisions people make are not a function of free will (so “proving” that any of them are not does not disprove the concept), and that (2) free will only enters the picture after the body makes its initial decision, when it has the opportunity to override it. These opportunities are usually few and far between, so we need to take advantage of them, as these are our only real opportunities to become better than what nature (and nurture) has set us up for.

Purim 5779 (5773 re-edited)

בִּקֵּשׁ לְהַשְׁמִיד לַהֲרֹג וּלְאַבֵּד אֶת כָּל הַיְּהוּדִים, מִנַּעַר וְעַד זָקֵן, טַף וְנָשִׁים, בְּיוֹם אֶחָד, בִּשְׁלוֹשָׁה עָשָׂר לְחֹדֶשׁ שְׁנֵים עָשָׂר, הוּא חֹדֶשׁ אֲדָר, וּשְׁלָלָם לָבוֹז.

When we thank Hashem for saving us from Haman in Al Hanisim, the verse in the Megilah describing Haman’s intent (3:13) is quoted, as he wanted “to destroy, kill and wipe out all of the Jews, from young to old, [including] children and women, on one day, on the 13th [day] of the 12th month, which is the month of Adar, and to plunder their possessions.” This last clause seems problematic, for several reasons.

First of all, it’s quite awkward to include the part of the decree that called for “plundering our possessions” while thanking G-d for saving our lives. Would the loss of material possessions have meant much after we were murdered? Why was this aspect included in the prayer of thanks and praise? Would our expression of gratitude be any less complete if this part of the verse wasn’t quoted?

Secondly, although our possessions being plundered might have been a primary motivator for our enemies to kill us (since they could take our belongings afterwards, see Ralbag), and is therefore included in the wording of the decree (in the Megilah itself), the word “decree” is not included in Al Hanisim; we are describing what “Haman wanted to do,” not what he decreed. Was having our “possessions plundered” part of what “he wanted,” or just a means to accomplish what he wanted? If having our material possessions become someone else’s was not part of his goal, saying that this is what “he wanted” is misleading at best. Additionally, we are stating that “Haman wanted to plunder our possessions.” Not that he wanted our possessions to be plundered by others so that they would kill us, but that he himself wanted to take possession of our things. How can we state that Haman wanted to take our things for himself if our possessions would have been taken by those who killed us, not by Haman?

The very notion that the king of the Persian Empire would allow a decree of genocide to be issued seems rather far-fetched. For a king who had to maintain the loyalty of 127 different provinces, wiping out one of the nations he was supposed to be protecting would be very problematic. Did Achashveirosh really want to be thought of as barbaric by the people of his empire?

Not only that, but he didn’t seem to even be aware that such a decree was issued, as when Esther pleaded for her life and the life of her people (7:3), he asked her who it was that wanted to kill them (7:5). Unless he was feigning ignorance, wasn’t it obvious who it was? How many nations in his kingdom were slated to be wiped out?

Another peculiar aspect of the degree was choosing one day to carry out genocide, as it is rather impractical. Why did Haman limit the day of Jew-killing to just the 13th of Adar? Wouldn’t it have been more effective if there was a longer Jew-hunting season? Additionally, the decree to wipe out every Jew was issued in Nisan (see 3:12), to be carried out 11 months later (in Adar, see 3:13); why did Haman make the date so late? Did he believe in the “lottery” so strongly (see 3:7) that he was willing to wait, giving the Jews time to foil his diabolical plan? With such advance knowledge of the date of the planned genocide, why would any Jew remain in the Persian Empire? Why didn’t they all move to Greece, or somewhere else not under Achashveirosh’s rule? Why didn’t they rebel, or at least cause a major commotion? There were powerful Jews in the capital city of Shushan (Mordechai being one of them). Why was Mordechai the only one who seemed to “know” what was really going on (see 4:1)? Was Esther so sheltered in the palace that she had to ask Mordechai why he was mourning (4:5)?

In “Esther/Ruth/Jonah Deciphered,” Stephen Gabriel Rosenberg, Ph.D, asks numerous questions about the plot of the Purim story as described in the Megilah (including why the Jews didn’t just leave), and makes some fascinating suggestions. Although not all of them are consistent with the text of the Megilah, the way it was understood by our sages, or even with some of his own suggestions, one of his main suggestions makes a lot of sense, has historical backing, and would explain a lot of otherwise curious verses.

One of the main issues facing Achashveirosh, at least by the time Haman became second-in-command, was the finances of the kingdom. The Persian army had quashed a rebellion in Egypt (Kush’s northern neighbor, at the western end of the empire) during the first two years of his rule, and Achashveirosh had thrown a six month party, giving the leaders of each of his provinces a turn to have a private audience with the king so that he could solidify his rule and gauge how they would react if he attacked Greece. After a less than successful war with Greece, the royal treasury was depleted, but placing additional taxes on the people in his empire would hardly be tolerated. It was at this point that Haman came up with a plan to raise revenue without increasing taxes across the board.

Until then, taxes were levied on property owners, with local governors collecting the property taxes within their province. Haman suggested adding a head tax on top of that, but only on one nation, one that was “scattered and separated among the nations in all of the provinces of the empire” (3:8), so had no real power base to fight the tax. Administering this new head tax on the people of a scattered nation would be quite onerous, but Haman had a way to deal with that as well. Rather than the local governors collecting it, or the king hiring new tax collectors, Haman offered to become a “tax farmer” (i.e. purchasing the right to collect taxes), paying the king a flat amount (10,000 talents of silver, see 3:9), to come from “those doing the work” (ibid), i.e. those collecting the tax, with anything collected above and beyond the 10,000 silver talents going to Haman (perhaps with a percentage going to his tax collectors). In order to raise such a substantial amount, an exorbitant sum was imposed on each person – man, woman and child (Dr. Rosenberg goes through the numbers to show how high the tax on each “head” was.)

This head tax would be extremely difficult to pay; even those who could, would likely have to use their life savings and/or go into severe debt. Therefore, the consequences of not paying it would have to be severe. And they were; any person whose “head tax” was not paid by the due date (the 13th of Adar) would (or could) be put to death. [It was standard operating procedure for anyone executed by the king to have all of their possessions turned over to the king‘s treasuries, and Haman was officially acting on behalf of the king. In order to make sure the head tax was paid, the decree included the provision that anyone who didn’t pay it by the due date would be executed (see 3:9), whereby his possessions would automatically belong to the king.] In other words, the decree wasn’t framed as an order of genocide that allowed for the taking of the victims possessions, but as a highly focused head tax that gave the tax collectors the legal right to do whatever it takes to collect it – even if it meant executing those who fail to pay.

Did anyone think that failure to pay would really bring about mass executions? Was the decree seen as a death warrant or as a harshly-worded tax levy? Achashveirosh, desperate to raise needed funds, went along with it; “the money is given to you” (3:11), i.e. any funds collected above the 10,000 silver talents for the royal treasury belonged to Haman, “as well as the nation, to do to it whatever you see fit” (ibid), i.e. you have the authority to set the consequences of not paying whatever you want, even death.

Therefore, when Esther told Achashveirosh that had the consequences of not paying the head tax “only” been being sold into slavery, she wouldn’t ask him to intervene, but since the intention was to actually kill her people (7:4) she had to ask him to, he was taken aback, having thought of Haman’s decree as a tax levy, not an order of genocide. Although the decree was known by all (3:14), and caused widespread despair in the Jewish communities (4:3), no one fled the empire, as they also viewed it as a harsh tax levy rather than a death warrant. Only Mordechai understood that Haman’s real intent was to murder Jews — men, women and children — using unpaid taxes as a cover, which is how he framed the decree when he described it in the Megilah.

[Even after Haman was hanged, his decree was still in force. The only way to prevent those who hated us from using the decree as an excuse to kill us, or those who were collecting the tax for Haman from doing whatever it took to collect it – which meant trying to execute us – was to issue the counter decree that allowed us to fight back.]

Although we are thanking G-d for sparing our lives, since the decree that would have led to this genocide was framed as a tax levy, it would be inappropriate to ignore that facet completely. Therefore, the “plundering of our possessions” was included in Al Hanisim, as this was how the genocide was disguised. And since Haman would have been allowed to keep everything he collected beyond the 10,000 silver talents, it could be said that it was Haman himself who wanted to plunder our possessions.

Because the circumstances that allowed the decree to have been issued centered on the need to raise funds to cover the expenses of Achashveirosh’s wars, it is fitting that the Megilah ends with his placing taxes on everybody (10:1). Whether Achashveirosh returned the funds from the head tax to those Jews who had paid them and these new taxes replaced those funds, or these taxes were less severe than they otherwise would have been because of the funds raised through the head tax, is unknown. Nevertheless, highlighting the taxes at the end indicates that raising funds for the royal treasury played a primary role in the Purim story, including Haman’s fateful decree being presented as a tax levy rather than as genocide.

Splitting Hairs

Splitting_Hairs

Here is a piece I wrote years ago on the issues of a woman covering her hair.

Yisro 5779

With this week being Parashas Yisro, which includes the “10 Commandments,” I thought it might be a good idea to post a piece I wrote about a decade ago, regarding the differences between the wording in this Parasha and how Moshe quoted it in Sefer D’varim, which was prior to my cross-posting my pieces here. (For further thoughts on the differences, please see https://rabbidmk.wordpress.com/2010/02/04/parashas-yisro-5770/ )

“Shamor v’Zachor b’Dibur Echad,” the commandment to keep the Sabbath and to remember the Sabbath were said simultaneously. This statement, part of the Friday night prayers welcoming in the Sabbath, is taken from a number of Talmudic-era sources, and is usually used to explain the “10 Commandments” not being exactly the same in Sh’mos and D’varim. Indeed, since G-d is non-corporeal, any sound waves He initiates are not made with a mouth or vocal chords, and He can just as easily cause multiple sound waves to emanate as He can a single sound wave. However, it seems pretty clear from many of these sources (e.g. M’chilta Yisro 7, Sifri Ki Saytzay 23, Sh’mos Rabbah 28:4, Y’rushalmi N’darim 3:2) that the concept of G-d saying more than one thing at the same time is not limited to the “10 Commandments.”

Another example given of two “statements” that were actually said simultaneously is: “those that violate [the Sabbath} shall surely die” (Sh’mos 31:14) and “on the Sabbath two sheep [shall be brought as an offering] (Bamidbar 28:9), as even though if the latter is done in any other context than the public offering it would be a violation of the Sabbath, they were said simultaneously because when done as part of the Temple Service (i.e. brought as offerings), it is not. Additionally, the prohibition against marrying a brother’s wife was said simultaneously with the commandment to marry a brother’s wife if he died without any children, as was the prohibition against swearing needlessly (“shav”) and falsely (“sheker”) and the qualification that a daughter that has no brothers who inherits her father must marry within the same tribe. In other words, whenever a law was given, all of the details, qualifications, exceptions, etc. were given with it simultaneously – and said in the same “utterance.”

Besides explaining how G-d could have said the words in Sh’mos 20 at the same exact moment as those in D’varim 5, and how both could be an exact quote, it occurred to me that it can also explain why it was only the first two of the “10 Commandments” that we were able to hear (and understand) directly from G-d (Makos 24a), while for the other eight we needed Moshe to tell us what G-d was saying. If every nuance of every commandment was said simultaneously, there would be so many “voices” that it would be impossible to discern any single one of them by itself. But this would only be true for the last eight of the commandants we heard directly from G -d. The commandment regarding G d’s existence has no qualifications; no exceptions or details needed to be taught along with it to fully explain it. G-d exists, period. And so when He said “I am G-d,” since this was the only “voice” that spoke, we were able to hear it loud and clear. Similarly, the second commandment, that there are no other powers or forces besides the One True G-d, has no ifs, ands, or buts. It’s only G-d, nothing (or nobody) else. We were therefore able to hear G-d clearly on that one too. The rest of the commandments, on the other hand, have multiple facets, and therefore multiple “voices” that were “speaking” simultaneously in the same utterance, making them were indiscernible to all but Moshe.

As the Ramban put it (Sh’mos 20:7), “explain[ing] to [us] the tradition of our rabbis,” “it is certain that all ten statements (i.e. the “10 Commandments”) were heard by all of Israel from the ‘mouth’ of G-d, as the plain sense of the verses indicate. However, for the first two statements they heard the statements and understood them from Him just as Moshe understood them. From that point forward, for the rest of the statements, they heard the voice (sound) of the statement but did not understand it, and needed Moshe to translate/explain to them each and every statement.” Based on the above, we can understand why.

Korach 5778

When קרח gathered the entire עדה in front of the אהל מועד (before the קטרת showdown between the 250 men who had joined him and אהרן הכהן),G-d told משה and אהרן to separate from “this עדה,” as He was about to destroy them instantaneously (במדבר טז:כא). Although it’s unclear whether the intent was for משה and אהרן to separate from the rest of the nation, who would all be destroyed, or that the rest of the nation should separate from קרח and those who joined him, רמב”ן is adamant that the original threat was to destroy the entire nation. (אי”ה at the Kiddush after davening we’ll discuss why רמב”ן insists on this, and how others could disagree.) After משה and אהרן successfully interceded, the instructions changed from משה and אהרן separating from the rest of the nation to having the rest of the nation separate from קרח (et al).

This was the third time that משה successfully saved בני ישראל from being destroyed by ‘ה (the first two were after the עגל הזהב and after the מרגלים), but this time, rather than beseeching ‘ה not to destroy them, משה and אהרן seem to accuse ‘ה of an injustice – getting angry at the entire עדה because of one person’s sin. And it apparently worked, as ‘ה then changes the instructions to having the עדה move away from קרח and דתן ואבירם. This might be reminiscent of אברהם אבינו asking if ‘ה would destroy סדום even if there were righteous residents, but that conversation was designed to help אברהם understand ‘ה and how He runs the world. And there weren’t any righteous people in סדום, so the theological implications אברהם raised were irrelevant. In this case, though, the argument that משה and אהרן made seems to have worked, which raises the question of why (and how) it worked. Were they debating ‘ה about how He should run the world, and convinced Him that He was going about it the wrong way? What changed via their theological argument, so that instead of destroying everyone, ‘ה decided to only destroy קרח and those who joined his rebellion?

The very notion that a תפילה for others can help needs an explanation, as the subject of the תפילה is no more worthy, or any closer to ‘ה, after someone else’s תפילה than before it was made. It’s one thing to daven for oneself, as the process of תפילה can bring about self-improvement, and something that may not have been deserved before may now be appropriate. But how can someone else’s תפילה bring about a change in the subject’s relationship with ‘ה, and therefore change what happens (or doesn’t happen) to that person?

As previously discussed (based on רלב”ג’s explanation of how the תפילה of משה רבינו saved בני ישראל after the חטא העגל), one of the reasons a תפילה for someone else helps is because what happens to that other person impacts the person doing the davening. In the case of the חטא העגל, the thought of בני ישראל being destroyed pained משה so much that ‘ה refrained from doing so – not because בני ישראל were now more worthy, but because of how it would have impacted משה, who didn’t deserve to experience such pain.

In our situation, קרח’s rebellion wasn’t just a sin against ‘ה, but a direct attack on משה and אהרן. Would it still pain them if the rest of the nation, who were interested enough to see if קרח was right that they gathered at the אהל מועד to watch the showdown, were destroyed? Their response gives us the answer; they not only asked ‘ה not to destroy them, but pointed out that they weren’t as bad as קרח. It wasn’t a theological argument about punishing those who don’t really deserve it, but an explanation as to why they were davening for those who seemed to join the rebellion: This was really קרח’s doing; we don’t hold it against them for wanting to see how things turn out, and would still be pained if they were destroyed. And because that’s what משה and אהרן wanted, nay, insisted upon, ‘ה changed His instructions, and had the nation move away from those He was about to destroy.