PARASHAT KI-TEITZEI

By Rav David Silverberg

            In Parashat Ki-Teitzei the Torah issues a prohibition against displaying hostility towards Egyptians: "Do not despise an Egyptian – for you were a foreigner in his land" (23:8).  Rashi comments, "…even though they cast your male [newborns] into the river.  And why?  Because they hosted you during your time of dire need."  Despite the cruel oppression and persecution Benei Yisrael suffered at the hands of the Egyptians, the Torah nevertheless demands that we harbor a degree of gratitude towards the ancient Egyptians for allowing our ancestors to reside in their country during a period of famine.  Recall that when Yosef served under Pharaoh as Egyptian viceroy, Egypt was the only country in the drought-ravaged region with grain, and Yosef, with Pharaoh's permission, invited his father and brothers, together with their families, to settle in Egypt so that they could survive.  This act of lifesaving hospitality renders the descendants of the Egyptians in Yosef's time deserving of a Torah prohibition forbidding any form of hostility against them on Benei Yisrael's part.

            Rav Avraham Pam, as cited in Rabbi Shalom Smith's The Pleasant Way, pointed to this prohibition as a classic – or perhaps extreme – example of a fundamental principle in ethics and interpersonal relations: "mi'ut ha-tov eino batel be-ribuy ha-ra."  This literally means, "A small degree of goodness is not negated by an abundance of evil."  Generally, Halakha recognizes a concept of bitul, that a small measure of one substance that mixes with a much larger quantity of a second substance is batel, or "nullified," in that second substance.  Most famously, a drop of milk that falls into a meat stew – of which it now comprises no more than one-sixtieth – is deemed halakhically "negated" by the stew, and the stew is therefore permissible for consumption.

            However, Rav Pam remarked, the concept of bitul does not apply in the realm of gratitude and appreciation.  Even a small degree of kindness is not lost among an abundance of evil, regardless of the proportion.  The hospitality extended to Yaakov and his family by the Egyptians remains intact and deserves respect and recognition even after over two centuries of enslavement and cold-blooded murder.  We are to show gratitude for this gesture even after the heinous crimes committed against our ancestors by those same Egyptians.

            Rav Pam demonstrated how this basic principle must affect our everyday encounters and relationships with other people.  If the mistreatment Benei Yisrael suffered at the hands of the Egyptians is insufficient to wash away their earlier act of kindness, then certainly the occasional wrongs committed by one's friend, neighbor, spouse or relative can be forgiven.  A husband and wife undoubtedly have much for which to feel grateful to one another, as do parents and children, business partners and friends of any kind.  Unfortunately, it happens that a single mistake, such as an offensive remark, or at times even an innocent oversight or miscalculation, is all it takes to destroy many years of a meaningful relationship or successful cooperation.  In issuing this prohibition against harboring feelings of hostility towards an Egyptian, the Torah urges us to maintain a sense of gratitude and appreciation even after subsequent wrongs, and to be willing to pardon occasional mishaps out of consideration for the many previous years of goodwill.

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            Towards the beginning of Parashat Ki-Teitzei, the Torah discusses the ben sorer u-moreh, the "wayward" son who commits several crimes for which he is sentenced to execution.  The Ramban (21:18) comments that the ben sorer u-moreh is dealt with so harshly because of two transgressions that he violates.  First, as Chazal understood from the Torah's description, the ben sorer u-moreh is sentenced to execution only if he acts violently towards his parents.  Secondly, as the Torah writes, this child is zolel ve-sovei (21:20) – gluttonous and indulgent.  This type of behavior, the Ramban explains, violates the fundamental precept of kedoshim tiheyu (literally, "you shall be sacred"), the requirement to exercise moderation in physical and material indulgence, to live a life focused on spiritual fulfillment rather than bodily pleasure.

            One might wonder why the second of these transgressions – overindulgence – renders the child deserving of such harsh punishment.  In his famous commentary to the verse, "Kedoshim tiheyu" (Vayikra 19:2), the Ramban explains this mitzva to mean that one must avoid perverse conduct that is technically within the bounds of Torah law.  A person can conceivably live a life of sexual immorality without transgressing the Torah's sexual code, or violate the fundamental essence of the Torah's dietary laws while eating strictly kosher food.  "Kedoshim tiheyu," the Ramban explains, requires limiting oneself even within the bounds set by the Torah's prohibitions.  It is clear from the Ramban's discussion that kedoshim tiheyu refers to conduct that falls clearly within the bounds of Halakha, requiring that one exercise moderation with regard to permissible activities.  It thus seems difficult to understand why gluttony would be of such severity that it – together with violence towards parents – renders the ben sorer u-moreh worthy of the death penalty.

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his work Rinat Yitzchak, suggests an answer based on the comments of the Mesilat Yesharim regarding the importance of perishut – limiting one's indulgence in physical enjoyment.  One of the harmful effects of overindulgence, the Mesilat Yesharim writes, is a dependence on excess that often results.  Once a person becomes accustomed to eating large quantities of food, for example, it becomes very difficult for him to function on lesser amounts.  In extreme situations, the Mesilat Yesharim adds, the individual might become so desperate for his usual intake that he will be prepared to violate the Torah to obtain it.  Herein lies the danger of what the Ramban calls naval be-reshut ha-Torah – acting perversely within the bounds of technical legality.  Beyond the inherent lack of "sanctity" that characterizes such a lifestyle, it can easily result in perversion outside the bounds of Torah law, in light of the dependence that it engenders.

            In this context, the Mesilat Yesharim makes mention of the ben sorer u-moreh, whom the Torah sentences to death in part for his gluttonous conduct.  If already at this tender age a child accustoms himself to a lifestyle of excessive food and drink, we can be certain that as he grows older, he will be forced to resort to illegal or immoral means of satisfying his cravings and meeting the high standards of indulgence that he had set for himself during his youth.

            The Gemara famously comments that never has an actual case of ben sorer u-moreh occurred, nor will such a situation ever arise.  The conditions that must be met for a child to attain this formal status make it all but impossible for this to occur.  The Torah's discussion was intended to serve as an extreme model of conduct providing instruction and guidance concerning various behavioral and educational patterns.  In light of the Ramban's comments, as we discussed, the ben sorer u-moreh underscores the importance of proper balancing between our spiritual and mundane pursuits.  The Torah informs us that excessive indulgence results in misplaced priorities.  One who expends too much time and focus on physical enjoyment will ultimately be prepared to sacrifice religious principles for the sake of his physical drives.  The Torah demands of the Jew just the opposite: "Kedoshim tiheyu," to focus one's energy and time upon Torah and mitzvot, and to be prepared to minimize or sacrifice physical enjoyments for the sake of spiritual meaning and the service of the Almighty.

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            Parashat Ki-Teitzei presents the laws relevant to the case known as motzi shem ra, where a groom casts false allegations against his bride, accusing her of infidelity during the betrothal period.  Should the allegations indeed be proven false, the Torah writes, the local court is to "punish" the man for his libelous charges (22:18).  Rashi, citing the Gemara in Masekhet Ketubot (46a), explains that the phrase "ve-yiseru oto" ("they shall punish him") refers to malkot – flogging.  The Gemara derives this interpretation of the word through a two-step gezeira shava inference.  (A gezeira shava is a means of exegetical deduction whereby a common word in two different contexts indicates the extension of a law pertaining in one context to the other context.)  The first step involves the word ve-yiseru, which appears both here, in the context of motzi shem ra, and earlier in the parasha, with regard to the ben sorer u-moreh, or "wayward" son (21:18).  The Torah describes a son who refuses to submit to his parents' authority even after they punish him, and it employs the term ve-yiseru in reference to their attempts at punishing the child.  The second gezeira shava pertains to the word ben, or "son," which appears both with regard to the ben sorer u-moreh and in the Torah's description of the procedure for malkot, towards the end of Parashat Ki-Teitzei ("ve-haya im bin hakot ha-rasha" – 25:2).  Thus, the section of motzi shem ra is associated with the context of ben sorer u-moreh through the shared term ve-yiseru, and the bein sorer u-moreh is linked to the subject of malkot through the word ben.  By extension, the Gemara concludes, the term ve-yiseru used in the context of the motzi shem ra refers to malkot.

            Though this deductive process flows naturally from the exegetical technique of gezeira shava, it may bear broader implications concerning the nature of malkot, and perhaps of court-administered corporal punishment generally.  Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham, finds it significant that the Gemara links the word ve-yiseru to the punishment of malkot specifically by way of the seemingly unrelated term ben, or "son."  What this perhaps demonstrates, Rav Shachor suggested, is that we must approach the Torah's punishments as resembling a punishment administered by a parent to a child.  It is a sign not of rejection, but quite to the contrary, of love and genuine concern.  In Parashat Eikev (8:5) Moshe tells Benei Yisrael, "You shall know in your heart that the Lord punishes you as a father punishes his son."  The association between malkot and parenthood, Rav Shachor adds, indicates that this is true of court-administered punishments, as well.  The perpetrator must not view the court officials as hostile, violent oppressors bent on beating him for the sake of sheer sadism.  And perhaps more importantly, the court officials must see themselves as acting as the parents of the sinner, and administer the punishments ordained by the Torah purely for the sake of helping him improve and return to the path of strict observance. 

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Towards the end of Parashat Ki-Teitzei the Torah presents the prohibition against using false weights and measures to cheat consumers (25:13-16).  This section's concluding verse reads, "For anyone who does these [acts of deceit] is an abomination to the Lord – anyone who acts corruptly."  What might the Torah mean with the seemingly redundant concluding clause, "anyone who acts corruptly"?  Once we are already told, "For anyone who does these [acts of deceit] is an abomination to the Lord," why must the Torah now emphasize that this applies to "anyone who acts corruptly"?

            Rav Moshe Sternbuch, in his work Ta'am Ve-da'at, suggests that the Torah here responds to those who might justify unethical commercial conduct on the basis of the fact that many or most other proprietors do the same.  A storeowner, ever mindful of the techniques used by the competition, will likely feel justified in cheating consumers with dishonest weights and measures once this has become standard among local retailers.  Why, he might feel, must he be held to more rigorous ethical standards than his competitors and thereby lose profits?

            The Torah therefore emphasizes that God deems abominable "anyone who acts corruptly."  One cannot determine his standards of conduct based on the abominable practices of others.  While in many instances local protocol and conventions may indeed establish the guidelines of fair play in the marketplace, certain practices are objectively labeled "abominable" and cannot be made "fair" by any agreement among merchants, written or otherwise.  We are therefore admonished not to justify dishonesty and deceit on the grounds of "this is what's done."  If what is done is deemed "an abomination to the Lord," then these practices may not be followed.

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            In Parashat Ki-Teitzei the Torah introduces the prohibition of etnan zona, which forbids offering as a sacrifice an animal that had served as payment for the services of a prostitute.  This prohibition is presented in conjunction with the similar prohibition against offering an animal that had been exchanged for a dog.  The Torah deems it disrespectful to bring animals with these associations as offerings to the Almighty, and refers to these animals as "to'avat Hashem Elokecha" – "an abomination to the Lord your God" (23:19).

            The Sifrei, commenting on this verse, clarifies that this prohibition applies even to offerings brought on bamot – private altars.  During certain periods before the construction of the Beit Ha-mikdash, it was permissible for Benei Yisrael to build and make use of bamot for voluntary offerings.  Mandatory offerings still required to central site of the Mishkan, but voluntary sacrifices were, during certain periods, allowed on private altars.  According to the Sifrei, an etnan zona was disqualified as a sacrifice not only in the Mishkan and Beit Ha-mikdash, but upon private bamot, as well.

            The Meshekh Chokhma comments that the Sifrei derived this extension of the prohibition from the construction of the verse: "Do not bring the payment of a harlot or the exchange of a dog to the house of the Lord your God for any voluntary offering."  According to the plain reading of the verse, the clause "for any voluntary offering" modifies the verse's opening phrase, "Do not bring," as if the Torah had written, "Do not bring for any voluntary offering the payment of a harlot or the exchange of a dog."  However, the Meshekh Chokhma suggested, the Sifrei perhaps read the verse differently, such that "for any voluntary offering" modifies the preceding phrase, "the house of the Lord your God."  The Torah here forbids bringing an etnan zona to a place which the Torah describes as "the house of the Lord your God for any voluntary offering."  This refers to bamot, "houses of the Lord your God" which are used only for voluntary sacrifices.  Based on this reading, the Sages deduced that one may not offer an etnan zona even on a private bama.

            We may, however, suggest a different explanation of the Sifrei's inference.  The Sifrei perhaps understood that the phrase "to the house of the Lord your God" and "for any voluntary offering" refer to two distinct aspects of the etnan zona prohibition.  The Torah deems these animals unfit for sacrifices on two levels: first, they are inappropriate for "the house of the Lord your God," and, secondly, they are unsuitable to fulfill "any voluntary offering."  Bringing such an animal as a sacrifice infringes upon the sanctity of the site of the Temple, and, in addition, reflects poorly on the individual's attitude towards his vow he seeks to fulfill through this sacrifice.  Regardless of the sanctity of the site, an animal of this kind is unfit for the sacred purpose of fulfilling one's vow to God.

            Thus, the Sifrei concluded that one may not offer an etnan zona to fulfill his vow even on a bama.  Although the site of a bama is not endowed with the sanctity of the Temple (a bama can be situated anywhere, such as in one's private yard), nevertheless, the prohibition forbids using an etnan zona as a sacrifice regardless of location.  This animal is deemed an insult not only to the sanctity of the Temple, but also to the lofty purpose of drawing nearer to God through the offering of a sacrifice.

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            The final verses of Parashat Ki-Teitzei discuss the obligation of zekhirat Amalek, to forever recall Amalek's assault on Benei Yisrael shortly after the Exodus, and to annihilate the entire Amalekite nation.

            In a most enigmatic passage, Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer (44) cites a seemingly peculiar exchange between Benei Yisrael and Moshe that took place after he instructed them with regard to this mitzva.  Benei Yisrael said to Moshe, "One verse states, 'Remember that which Amalek did to you,' and another verse states, 'Remember the Sabbath day, to observe it.'  How can they both be sustained?"  Moshe responded, "A cup of spiced wine is different from a cup of vinegar; this is a cup, and the other is a cup.  This [commandment] is to remember to observe and sanctify the Sabbath, and the other is to remember to punish [Amalek]."

            Why did Benei Yisrael find it difficult to sustain both commands, to remember Amalek's hostilities and to remember the day of Shabbat?  Why should the eternal battle we are to wage against Amalek conflict with our observance of Shabbat?  And how did Moshe resolve this conflict through the analogy to the two cups, of sweet wine and of vinegar?

            On Shabbat, the Jew is required to retreat from the harsh, unforgiving world into an idyllic existence of spiritual serenity, tranquility and gratification.  As the sun sets on Friday afternoon, the pressure-ridden workweek, fraught with disappointment, frustrated ambitions, unfulfilled dreams and confrontation with evil, gives way to a twenty-five-hour oasis of peace and contentment.  The popular notion of me'ein olam ha-ba, that Shabbat somehow reflects the nature and character of the next world, accurately captures this theme.  Shabbat is to be an "otherworldly" experience, during which one need not – and may not – concern himself with the challenges he confronts during the workweek, when he recoils into his own little world of perfection, and feels content and gratified with his life and with the world.

            If so, then we can perhaps understand the people's bewilderment upon hearing Moshe command them to wage an eternal battle against the evil represented by Amalek.  These two mitzvot – Shabbat and Amalek – reflect diametrically opposed approaches to the proper response to evil.  The Shabbat experience, as mentioned, requires retreating and isolating oneself from evil, escaping from the harsh realities of the world and seeking refuge in a vacuum of idyllic serenity.  The mitzva of zekhirat Amalek, by contrast, calls upon Benei Yisrael to confront evil, to take on the forces of corruption rather than escape from them.  They therefore turned to Moshe and asked, "How can they both be sustained?"  What, they wondered, is Judaism's approach to dealing with evil?  Do we escape from it, as suggested by the mitzva of Shabbat, or are we to confront and work to oppose it, as indicated by the obligation of zekhirat Amalek?

            Moshe responds, "A cup of spiced wine is different from a cup of vinegar; this is a cup, and the other is a cup."  A person can enjoy sweet, spicy wine while also flavoring his food with vinegar; the two approaches are not mutually exclusive.  We are indeed to confront and work to obliterate evil – "Remember that which Amalek did to you" – while at the same time never forgetting the ideal existence for which we strive – "Remember the Sabbath day."  The idyllic existence of Shabbat should inspire us to exert ourselves during the other six days to achieve what Chazal called yom she-kulo Shabbat u-menucha – the day that is eternally Shabbat, the day when the world is freed from the forces of evil and treachery, when the sanctity and serenity of Shabbat will prevail seven days a week.  These two approaches towards the reality of evil – the approach of Shabbat and of zekhirat Amalek – combine to form the Torah's perspective on the proper response to evil, which requires confronting and opposing it during the six days of the workweek, while spending the seventh experiencing in small measure the evil-free world for which we strive.

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            Parashat Ki-Teitzei begins with the topic of eishet yefat to'ar, the captive woman desired by the Israelite soldier, outlining the procedure that must be followed to allow the soldier to marry the woman.  Rather than allowing troops to abuse the enemy's women and then abandon them, as was common during wartime in the ancient world, the Torah requires that the soldier grant the woman a month-long period of mourning and adjustment, and then marry her.  The Torah thereby prevents wanton and indiscriminate rape, forcing the desirous soldier to take the woman only in the formal context of marriage, and in a manner that preserves her dignity and emotional needs given the trauma she currently endures.

            Rashi, in his commentary to this section (21:11), cites the Gemara's famous comment in Masekhet Kiddushin, "lo dibera Torah ela ke-neged yetzer ha-ra" – the Torah here speaks "only in response to the evil inclination."  The Torah understood that in the tense and unrestrained environment of the battlefield, it could not outright forbid troops from taking attractive women from the enemy nation.  Had it issued such a prohibition, many soldiers would be unable to withstand the temptation and would resort to rampant illicit conduct.  As a concession to human frailty, the Torah delineated a procedure whereby a soldier would be permitted to take the woman he desires.

            The basic assumption underlying this statement of the Talmud is that not every action permitted according to strict Halakha necessarily represents the Torah's ideal.  The Torah indeed sanctions a soldier's marriage to the eishet yefat to'ar, but Chazal emphasized that such a marriage must not be perceived as the ideal standard of religious observance.  In fact, as Rashi here cites, the Sages warned that such a marriage will likely be plagued by tension and enmity.  Although this marriage is technically sanctioned, it is strongly discouraged.

            This brings to mind the Ramban's famous comments (which we discussed earlier this week) regarding the Torah's command "kedoshim tiheyu" ("you shall be holy" – Vayikra 19:2).  According to the Ramban, this means that one must limit his indulgence even in areas permitted according to strict Halakha.  The Ramban makes a similar comment concerning Moshe's admonition, "ve-asita ha-yashar ve-ha-tov be-einei Hashem" ("you shall do that which is upright and good in the eyes of the Lord" – Devarim 6:18), claiming that this refers to the notion of lifnim mi-shurat ha-din.  Even in situations where one is legally entitled to claim owed money from his fellow, it is not necessarily advisable to do so.  One must be willing, within reason, to forego on what he rightfully deserves in the interest of maintaining peaceful relations among neighbors and friends.  Once again, the technical mandates of Halakha do not necessarily represent the ideal standard.  Even when Halakha licenses a person to sue his fellow, it is not necessarily appropriate to do so.

            Another famous example of this notion is Abarbanel's controversial stance concerning the mitzva to appoint a king.  Many commentators struggle to reconcile the contradiction between the section in Sefer Devarim which explicitly sanctions the appointment of a king, and the narrative in Sefer Shemuel I, which tells of Shemuel's vehement opposition to a monarchy.  Abarbanel claimed that the Torah sanctioned the appointment of a king only as a concession in the event that Benei Yisrael should, out of spiritual frailty, demand a monarchy.  This type of government was never viewed by the Torah as an ideal; though technically permissible, it does not represent the optimal standard towards which the people should strive.