Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT DEVARIM

Rav David Silverberg

            In Yeshayahu's famous prophecy which we read on Shabbat Chazon (the Shabbat preceding Tisha B'Av), the Almighty laments to the prophet, "I have raised and exalted children – but they have betrayed Me!" (Yeshayahu 1:2).

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch explains this declaration to mean that the Torah has not denied the Jewish people anything that would necessitate or even justify in any way their preference for other lifestyles and modes of worship.  The Torah does not demand, encourage or even sanction a life of self-inflicted poverty and suffering.  It requires not that we withdraw from worldly pursuits, but that we sanctify them through the observance of the Torah's guidelines, obligations and restrictions.  If a child betrays a parent who imposes overbearing responsibilities, treats him abusively or denies him his basic provisions, we could easily justify and support the child's decision.  God here emphasizes that this is not the case with Benei Yisrael.  God has "raised and exalted" them; He has brought them to a fertile land and encouraged them to till its soil and tap its resources to the very best of their ability within the guidelines of Torah law.  He had not denied them anything that would justify their abandonment and rejection.

            This verse thus serves as an appropriate preface to the harsh condemnation that follows (1:3): "An ox knows its owner – a donkey, its master's trough; Israel has not known, My nation has not understood."  Animals instinctively show loyalty to those who care for and feed them, if for no other reason than the innate desire to survive.  But Benei Yisrael have shown no such loyalty to their "owner," to God, and have instead acted towards Him as though He has not provided them with their needs.  Rather than knowing their "master's trough," they have rejected their Master as if He had never given them water.

            In this sense, these verses also serve to introduce the prophet's description of the devastation that the kingdom has endured, the destruction of entire cities by enemy nations that has left Jerusalem as "a hut in a vineyard" (verse 1:8; as the Radak notes, Yeshayahu here likely refers to the period of the Assyrian siege of Jerusalem during the reign of Chizkiyahu).  God wishes to emphasize that this devastation resulted not from His abandonment of the people, but rather from the people's abandonment of Him.  Before the nation's betrayal, He had "raised and exalted" them, caring for them and providing them with all their needs.  It was only because of their rejection of the Almighty and the preference they showed for other faiths and religious practices that He has subjected them to foreign rule and denied them the delights of the land.

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            The first chapter of Sefer Yeshayahu, which we read as the haftara on the Shabbat before Tisha B'Av, includes a famous series of verses in which God declares His disinterest in the people's sacrificial offerings: "Why do I need your abundant offerings… I am satiated with burnt-offerings of rams and the fat of sheep; and I do not desire the blood of bulls, lambs and goats!" (Yeshayahu 1:11).  Several verses later (1:14), God declares His aversion for "your new months and festivals," claiming that He looks upon them as "a burden" (torach) which He can no longer bear.

            The Maggid of Dubnow, in his Kokhav Mi-Yaakov, explains that the Almighty's displeasure with the people's festival observance stems from the fact that they had become "your new months and festivals" – the people treated these occasions as "theirs."  God commanded the observance of Shabbat and Yom Tov to afford us the opportunity to focus on our spiritual growth to a greater extent than the rigors and pressures of the workweek allow.  But the Almighty here observes that Benei Yisrael approached these occasions as "your festivals," as occasions for gluttonous indulgence and frivolous merrymaking.  The cessation from work was used not for the purpose of Torah study and greater concentration on the people's relationship with God, but rather for personal gratification.  In essence, the people had taken what belonged to God and kept it for themselves; Shabbat and festivals became a time not to enhance their service of the Almighty, but rather to enhance the service of their own selves.

            This misdirected attitude towards Shabbat and festivals likely explains the people's attitude towards the sacrifices, as well.  God speaks here of the nation's preoccupation with the Temple rituals while their hands were "filled with blood" (1:15) and they deal in counterfeit money and diluted wine (1:22).  It seems that the sacrifices, too, became a means of serving themselves, rather than serving God.  In the words of Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, the Temple rituals were seen not as a means of enhancing one's observance, but rather as a substitute for observance.  People offered sacrifices in order to soothe their guilty consciences and afford themselves an artificial feeling of religiosity.  The sacrificial order allowed them to feel religiously devoted without actually being religiously devoted.  What Yeshayahu here describes is the hijacking of the Temple rituals, transforming them from an expression of submission and devotion into a source of artificial comfort and emotional satisfaction.

            Later, the prophet describes how enemies have plundered the Judean kingdom and burnt its cities to the point where Jerusalem has been left as a "hut in a vineyard" and as a "sleeping hut in a cucumber field" (1:8).  Rav Hirsch suggested that the image of a "sleeping hut" provides a particularly poignant analogy demonstrating Benei Yisrael's attitude towards the Beit Ha-mikdash.  A meluna ("sleeping hut") was a small, makeshift hut erected in a field where the workers would go when they needed rest or to find refuge from the elements.  Sadly, Rav Hirsch comments, this is precisely how Benei Yisrael began to approach religion: as only a place to seek refuge, to find comfort when no other means of comfort are available.  Rather than committing themselves fully and unconditionally to the service of God, they instead used His laws to serve themselves, as a source of solace during times of distress.

            Understandably, then, God declares, "And when you outstretch your hands – I shall ignore you; even when you pray abundantly, I do not listen" (1:15).  If the people use religion only for their own needs, if their "devotion" to God is but a thinly-veiled manifestation of their devotion to themselves, then it will not help them.  When the Mikdash is used as a place to serve oneself rather than a place to serve God, then its entire purpose is lost – and, ultimately, so is the Mikdash itself.

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            In the famous prophecy of Yeshayahu read as the haftara for the Shabbat preceding Tisha B'Av, God declares his displeasure with the people's observance of Shabbat and festivals (as we discussed yesterday), and exclaims, "lo ukhal aven va-atzara" – "I cannot tolerate evildoing and [religious] assemblies!" (1:13).  God here notes the incongruity between the people's "assemblies" – the public observances of Shabbat and the other sacred occasions – and their conduct in daily life.  He cannot look favorably upon their Shabbat and festival observance if the themes of morality and religious devotion that they represent are ignored throughout the rest of the year.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch commented that a closer examination of the word atzara perhaps sharpens the message conveyed in this verse.  Shabbat and festivals are often referred to as atzeret, a term that stems from the root a.tz.r. which denotes "cessation" or "restraint."  Cessation from creative work on Shabbat and the festivals serves to express the recognition of human limitation, that we are not the true masters over the world.  On these occasions we give the earth back to the Almighty, as it were, acknowledging that ultimately it belongs to Him and we develop and use it only under His authority and rule.  The term atzara thus refers to restraint and restriction, the notion that our privileges to the world's resources extend only as far as the Almighty allows.

            The observance of these occasions is thus altogether incongruous with aven, corruption and dishonesty.  The opposite of the theme of atzara, restraint, is the pursuit of wealth and honor through criminal means.  People who engage in fraud and exploitation in effect reject all restrictions on the accumulation of wealth; they see themselves as free to achieve whatever they wish through whichever means they can devise.  They thus deny the notion of atzara, the belief in man's limited control over the earth and its resources.  The Almighty therefore bemoans the people's hypocritical engagement in both aven and atzara, in both the unrestrained pursuit of wealth, and the observance of the sacred occasions, which are to express man's subjugation and subservience to divine authority.

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            One of the central themes of the opening prophecy in the Book of Yeshayahu, which is read on the Shabbat preceding Tisha B'Av, is Benei Yisrael's preoccupation with sacrifices while ignoring basic Jewish values of ethics and morality.  Amidst this censure of the people God declares, "When you come to be seen before Me – who asked this of you, trampling on My courtyards?" (1:12).

            The Gemara (Masekhet Chagiga 4b) infers from this verse that one may not tread on the area of the Temple while wearing shoes, as doing so would amount to "trampling" on the "courtyards" of the Almighty.  Just as Moshe was bidden to remove his shoes upon beholding the vision of the burning bush due to the sanctity of the site (Shemot 3:5), so were Benei Yisrael bidden to remove their shoes before walking in the courtyards of the Mikdash.

            Rav Meir Blumenfeld, in his work Netivot Nevi'im (Newark, 1965), suggests applying to this halakha an approach cited in the introduction to Shev Shemateta to explain Moshe's removal of his shoes at the burning bush.  According to this theory, the removal of shoes represented the complete dissociation from one's physical essence, for the purpose of connecting oneself entirely with his spiritual being.  In order to receive prophecy (as the Rambam famously developed), it was necessary for a prophet to focus his attention exclusively on God and divert his mind entirely from his physical properties.  One who "stands on sacred ground" must encounter sanctity directly, without the "obstructions" of his physical being.  In a similar vein, one who entered the Mikdash had to change his focus from physical to spiritual; the experience was to awaken him to reassess his priorities and shift his attention away from his petty, mundane concerns onto the loftier ideals of avodat Hashem.  Of course, the pilgrim was not required to focus his attention on the spiritual realm to the same extent as was required of a prophet, but to some degree, the experience of frequenting the Mikdash was intended to engender this mental and emotional process of redirecting one's focus.

            If so, Rav Blumenfeld suggested, then we can perhaps more clearly understand God's censure of the people for "trampling on My courtyards."  It appears that Benei Yisrael in Yeshayahu's time failed to apply or internalize the lesson of removing one's shoes, of focusing one's attention on avodat Hashem upon entering the Temple.  They frequented the Mikdash and offered scores of costly sacrifices, but they did so without an accompanying sense of reverence, without directing their attention towards the spiritual ideals that the Temple and the sacrifices represented.  We might say that rather than striving to turn their daily lives into something resembling the Mikdash, they turned the Mikdash into something resembling their daily lives.  And instead of seeing to it that their ordinary routine would become an extension of their experience in the Mikdash, their experience in the Mikdash became but an extension of their ordinary routine.

            The institution of a Mikdash poses the risk of allowing people to compartmentalize their lives, by consigning their religious devotion to the sacred ground of the Mikdash while allowing themselves to act freely everywhere else.  Here, Yeshayahu points to the precise opposite phenomenon, of divesting the Temple of its sanctity altogether.  If the Mikdash is not treated any differently than anywhere else, if a pilgrimage to the Temple is not approached as an experience of religious inspiration, then the people no longer deserve to have a Mikdash.  If the Shekhina's presence does not inspire the people to commit themselves with extra vigor to the ideals of Godliness and ethical conduct demanded by the Torah, then its presence is superfluous, and the Shekhina departs from the Temple until such time as Benei Yisrael is prepared once again to look to the Mikdash as a source of inspiration.

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            Towards the beginning of Parashat Devarim Moshe recalls his decision to appoint judges to assist him in tending to the nation's judicial needs.  He instructed the people to identify and select qualified individuals to serve as judges, and added, "va-asimem be-rosheikhem" – "I shall appoint them as your heads" (1:13).

            Rashi, commenting on the word be-rosheikhem ("as your heads"), explains, "Heads and respected figures over you, that you shall treat them with honor and reverence."  According to Rashi, this description of the judges' position refers to the honor and distinction with which the people are to treat them.  Rashi then cites the word va-asimeim ("I shall appoint them"), and notes that the word is spelled without the letter yod, such that it could be read as asheimim – "guilty."  Based on the Sifrei, Rashi claims that this unusual spelling alludes to the guilt the leadership bears for its failure to protest wrongful conduct and steer its constituency along the path of desirable behavior.  If the leaders do not make an effort to offer criticism and guidance, then they are asheimim – they bear guilt for the masses' failures.

            As Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks notes in his Menachem Tziyon (Jerusalem, 5738), Rashi reverses the sequence of the words va-asimeim be-rosheikhem in presenting this commentary.  He first cites and interprets the word rosheikhem, explaining that it refers to the honor and reverence owed to the appointed officials, and only then comments on the word va-asimeim and its connection to the word asheimim.  Rav Zaks speculates that Rashi perhaps reversed the sequence of these words in order to qualify his remark concerning the leaders' responsibility to offer criticism and rebuke.  Namely, only when the people treat their religious leaders with a degree of honor and respect do the leaders then bear this responsibility, to instruct the people and inform them when they act improperly.  In the absence of this regard for the leaders' stature, they bear no such obligation.  As the Talmud famously remarks in Masekhet Yevamot (65a), "Just as it is a mitzva to say something that will be heard, so it is a mitzva not to say something that will not be heard."  If a leader is not admired and respected as an authority figure, then it is best for him not to offer criticism, and it will likely bring upon himself ridicule and contempt, without yielding any beneficial effect upon the audience.  Rashi therefore first commented about the need for respect and reverence for religious leaders before speaking of the leaders' accountability for the constituency's failures.

            Of course, as the Menachem Tziyon emphasizes, a leader must very carefully assess the situation to determine whether or not his words will have an impact.  In many instances, constructive criticism and advice will yield no immediate effect, but can prove very valuable and meaningful in the future.  The Menachem Tziyon cites in this context the story told in the Talmud Yerushalmi (Sanhedrin 10) of the wicked king Menashe, who is said to have practiced every form of paganism in the world.  As we read in Sefer Divrei Hayamim II (32:11), God punished Menashe and his kingdom by bringing upon them the Assyrian army, who captured Menashe.  The verse then states, "In his [Menashe's] distress, he appealed to the Lord his God, and he was exceedingly subdued before the God of his fathers" (ibid. 32:12).  The Yerushalmi notes the parallel between this verse and a verse in Parashat Vaetchanan (which is read on Tisha B'Av), "In your distress…you shall return unto the Lord your God and heed His voice" (Devarim 4:30).  Menashe had studied this section as a young child with his father, the righteous king Chizkiyahu, and now, upon experiencing the kind of distress spoken of in that verse, he recalled the message of repentance and prayer during times of crisis.  He thus appealed to God, who accepted his prayer and returned him to Israel.

            The Torah Chizkiyahu taught his son did not succeed in setting Menashe upon the proper path in life, but it was nevertheless effective enough to kindle a spark of inspiration much later.  Therefore, before a leader, teacher or parent despairs from offering constructive criticism, guidance or instruction, he must consider the possibility that his words will somehow, sometime yield some kind of meaningful effect, even if no effect can be foreseen in the immediate future.

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            As we mentioned yesterday, Moshe devotes a section towards the beginning of Parashat Devarim (1:9-17) to recalling his appointment of judges to assist him in adjudicating the cases brought by the people.  Realizing his inability to personally tend to each and every case that arose, Moshe asked the people to recommend qualified candidates to serve as circuit judges so as to lighten his workload.  In recalling this incident, Moshe places particular emphasis on the credentials he demanded of the appointees and his exhortation that they should execute justice fairly, equitably and honestly, without favoritism or intimidation.

            Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (as cited in Rav Herschel Shachtar's Nefesh Ha-Rav, p. 140) reported a fascinating practice that was followed in the Jewish community of Brisk with regard to this section in Parashat Devarim.  Generally speaking, during the Shabbat afternoon mincha service, we read the first aliya of the next week's Torah portion, that is, until the point where the first aliya will conclude when the portion is read in full on the following Shabbat.  On the Shabbat preceding Shabbat Parashat Devarim, however, the community in Brisk read during mincha not only the first aliya of Parashat Devarim (which extends until 1:11), but the second aliya, as well (until 1:21).  The reason for this practice, Rav Soloveitchik explained, was the significance and timely relevance of the account of the judges' appointment, which is read in the second aliya of Parashat Devarim.  The haftara for Parashat Devarim concludes with God's famous proclamation conveyed through the prophet Yeshayahu (1:27), "Zion shall be redeemed through justice," indicating that it is through the execution of fair judgment that Am Yisrael earn redemption from exile.  Indeed, the Talmud comments in Masekhet Shabbat (139a), "The Almighty will not allow His Shekhina ['presence'] to rest upon Israel until there are no more corrupt judges and officials from Israel."  The restoration of the Beit Ha-mikdash, the return of God's presence to Jerusalem and to Am Yisrael, depends on the nation's commitment and adherence to mishpat, judicial honesty and integrity.  So long as the plight of the underprivileged and crime victims is overlooked, and the nation is incapable or unwilling to oppose the efforts of the rich and powerful to abuse the less fortunate, the Shekhina will remain distant from the Jewish people and the Jewish land.  It is only through mishpat, when fairness, honesty and integrity prevail on all social, economic and political echelons of the nation, that Zion shall be redeemed.

            Rav Soloveitchik thus explained that since the Shabbat before Shabbat Parashat Devarim always occurs during the three-week period of mourning for the Beit Ha-mikdash, it was decided in Brisk to read during mincha on that Shabbat the account of the judges' appointment.  As mentioned, Moshe emphasizes in this account the importance of honesty and fairness in judgment, and this is precisely the theme that must be underscored as we prepare for Tisha B'Av each and every year that passes without the redemption of Zion.

            Earlier this week we discussed a number of earlier verses from the haftara for Parashat Devarim, which deals mainly with Benei Yisrael's disproportionate preoccupation with, and emphasis upon, sacrificial offerings, at the expense of social justice and ethical conduct.  The choice of this prophecy as the haftara for the Shabbat preceding Tisha B'Av is likely intended to convey to each generation this very same message that Yeshayahu brought to the people of the time of Chizkiyahu.  We miss the mark by focusing our minds on only the loss of the actual Temple and our consequent inability to offer sacrifices and experience the presence of the Shekhina.  We cannot long for the rebuilding of the Mikdash unless we long for the rebuilding of our nation's ethical character and commitment to integrity and justice.  Just as the people of Yeshayahu's time erred in prioritizing the Mikdash rituals while neglecting the plight of the poor and overlooking the corruption of their leaders, so are we mistaken by only bemoaning the Temple's absence without devoting ourselves to the ideals of tzedek and mishpat, to ensuring that Zion can once again be called ir ha-tzedek – the city of justice (Yeshayahu 1:26) – and that we can rightfully be called the am ha-tzedek – the nation of justice.

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            Towards the beginning of Parashat Devarim, Moshe recalls his inability to judge the people single-handedly, which prompted him to establish a kind of circuit judicial system whereby the simpler cases would be handled by lower-level judges.  At the time, Moshe recalls, he had bemoaned, "Eikha esa levadi torchakhem u-masa'akhem ve-rivekhem" – "How can I handle alone your troubles, burden and quarrels?" (1:12).

            Commenting on the word torchakhem ("your troubles"), Ibn Ezra explains, "to teach foolish people the commandments."  According to Ibn Ezra, Moshe here somewhat insultingly tells the people of the difficulty entailed in instructing "fools" like them the complex and intricate laws of the Torah.

            The Ramban understands this term along similar lines: "…for it was a great burden to teach those who left Egypt the statutes and laws, and their meanings, explanations and underlying reasons."

            Rav Yaakov Kopel Schwartz, in his Yekev Efrayim (Brooklyn, 5761), notes the clear difference between the comments of Ibn Ezra and the Ramban to this word: whereas Ibn Ezra speaks of the difficulty entailed in teaching "fools," the Ramban makes reference to instructing "those who left Egypt."  Rav Schwartz speculates that the Ramban perhaps followed the comments of the Rambam, in his Shemoneh Perakim (chapter 4), regarding the high intellectual level of the generation that left Egypt.  The Rambam emphasizes that these people were not fools, but rather men of great intellect and insight, the least educated of whom, he claims, were on a level resembling that of the prophet Yechezkel.  Accordingly, the Ramban could not accept Ibn Ezra's characterization of this generation as petayim ("fools"), and referred to them instead as yotz'ei Mitzrayim ("those who left Egypt").

            Rav Schwartz adds that this description – yotz'ei Mitzrayim – likely alludes to a different, more famous, passage in the Rambam's writings, in his Guide for the Perplexed (3:32).  The Rambam there establishes his controversial position regarding the institution of sacrifices, namely, that they were established only because Benei Yisrael had grown accustomed to this mode of religious worship during their stay in Egypt.  In this chapter Maimonides emphasizes the difficulty people encounter in attempting to suddenly discontinue ingrained habits, tendencies and lifestyles, and that Benei Yisrael therefore could not have been expected to at once adopt a religious system that did not include sacrificial offerings.  In a somewhat similar vein, the Ramban refers here to the difficulty the nation must have experienced in having to study and absorb the innumerable, detailed laws of the Torah after the Revelation at Sinai, just after obtaining freedom from slavery.  After centuries of bondage, they were suddenly required to engage in the rigorous discipline of talmud Torah – a drastic change in lifestyle which posed a great challenge not only to the people, but to Moshe, as well.

            Thus, rather than describing Benei Yisrael as people of limited intellectual capabilities, the Ramban chose instead to point to their very recent liberation from Egypt as the cause for the frustration and anxiety that Moshe experienced as he endeavored to teach them the Torah.