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by Rav David Silverberg

In the second verse in the haftara of Shabbat Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelekh, the final of the seven haftarot of consolation following Tisha B'Av, the prophet draws an analogy between Am Yisrael's salvation and the growth of vegetation. He declares, "For as the earth brings forth her growth and a garden makes the seed shoot up, so the Lord God will make righteousness and renown shoot up in the presence of all the nations" (Yeshayahu 61:11). What underlies this comparison? To what quality of Am Yisrael's "righteousness and renown" does the prophet refer when he compares them to plants?

Dr. Mendel Hirsch (son of Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch), in his work on the haftarot (much of which is based upon the commentaries of his father), explains this verse as underscoring the cause-and-effect relationship between Benei Yisrael's "righteousness" and "renown." Just as the laws of nature dictate that a seed produces a plant, so will it become clear that "righteousness" automatically yields "renown." In the current state of affairs, justness, honesty, integrity and piety generally do not earn one fame and prestige, certainly not to the same extent as do wealth and power. The standards by which people are assessed reflect the misplaced priorities of mankind; the emphasis placed on material possessions and power result in the widespread acclaim for the wealthy and mighty, rather than for the moral and just. In the future, mankind will come to honor and respect piety and righteousness; as if by the laws of nature, "righteousness" will automatically result in "renown."

Later in this same prophecy, Yeshayahu proclaims, "Nations shall see your righteousness, and every king your majesty" (62:2). The prophet foresees the day when rather than being the objects of ridicule for our customs and rituals, rather than enduring the derision and scorn of other peoples for our uncompromising devotion to our faith, the justness of our beliefs and wisdom of our laws will become apparent. If today it is difficult to see how the seeds of "righteousness" yield the sprouts of "renown," the times foreseen by Yeshayahu are characterized by universal recognition of the supreme stature of "righteousness," such that the righteous will be extolled, while specifically the wicked will be condemned, pursued, and persecuted.

*****

Towards the beginning of Parashat Nitzavim, Moshe warns the people lest they think they can violate the covenant with God and somehow escape punishment. He admonishes, "Perchance there is among you some man or woman, or some clan or tribe, whose heart is even now turning away from the Lord our God to go and worship the gods of those nations… When such a one hears the words of these sanctions, he may fancy himself immune, thinking, 'I shall be safe, for I will follow my own willful heart!" (29:17-18).

What exactly is the thought process of this individual or group of individuals described here by Moshe? Why would he or they think they can escape punishment?

In effect, our question boils down to the issue of how to understand the clause, "I shall be safe, for I will follow my own willful heart." After hearing Moshe's warnings about the punishments that will befall the people for betraying God, why would such a person think that following his own willful heart will bring about his safety?

Ibn Ezra resolves the question very easily by redefining the word "ki" in this verse as "despite the fact that." In other words, the individual assumes he will enjoy safety and security despite his decision to follow his own wishes and desires and ignore the Torah's laws. Thus, according to Ibn Ezra, we deal here most likely with a skeptic, who is not convinced – or does not want to be convinced – of the doctrine of reward and punishment as outlined by Moshe in these chapters.

Other commentators, however, suggest different approaches. Rav Yitzchak Arama, in his "Akeidat Yitzchak," suggests that in this individual's mind, the blessings and curses are relevant only to believers. The simplest way out of the responsibilities of the Torah is to deny its authority altogether. "I shall be safe," he assumes, specifically because he will refuse to accept the Torah as a binding system of law. One must believe in the Torah's authority to be a candidate for the punishments of which it warns; one who denies the entire system has nothing to fear.

An entirely different approach to this verse is taken by Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his "Ha-ketav Ve-ha'kabbala." He explains the verse in such a way that it does not, in fact, refer to escaping punishment at all. According to this interpretation, "shalom yihyeh li" (translated in our initial citation as, "I shall be safe") refers not to physical safety, but to inner, intellectual peace and comfort. The envisioned heretic prides himself on the luxury he enjoys of performing only those mitzvot which he can rationally understand and accept. For the rest of us, Torah observance can often entail a fierce battle against ourselves, we must constantly reinforce our conviction and belief in the Torah's authority and its paramount significance even when we cannot readily understand why and how this is. He, however, has the luxury of selecting those laws, rituals and customs that accommodate his intellectual and emotional needs. "Shalom yihyeh li" – he will enjoy inner peace, he imagines, "ki bi-sherirut libi eilekh." According to Rav Mecklenberg, "libi" (literally, "my heart") refers not to the wishes of the heart, but rather to the mind, the intellect. (Indeed, it has been pointed out that Medieval Jewish writers in general employed the word "lev" as a reference to the mind, rather than the heart. Thus, some have suggested that the title of the classic philosophical work "Chovot Ha-levavot" be translated as "Duties of the Mind," rather than "Duties of the Heart." Anyone even vaguely familiar with the content of that work can testify to the accuracy of this assertion.) The apostate of whom Moshe speaks takes pride in the comfort he allows himself, how he avoids the challenges and struggles that form an integral part of the religious experience of the believing Jew.

If such a thought process is the approach of the archetype heretic described by Moshe, then the precise opposite attitude must characterize the one who chooses to remain faithful to God and His Torah. We must never try to flee the challenges and difficulties that a Torah lifestyle entails. It is the heretic who strives for the comfort and ease of doing only as one pleases; we, however, strive for a much different form of inner "peace" – the satisfaction of knowing that we fulfill God's law, even when we find it difficult, and even if it entails hard work and intellectual or emotional struggle.

*****

Parashat Nitzavim (specifically, chapter 30) foresees the calamity that will befall Benei Yisrael for their collective betrayal of God, and their ultimate repentance and redemption. Strangely, however, on no fewer than four different occasions over the course of this narrative are Benei Yisrael told to have repented:

1. "You will return unto your heart amidst the various nations to which the Lord your God has banished you." (30:1)
2. "And you will return to the Lord your God, and you and your children will heed His command with all your heart and soul." (30:2)
3. "You shall again heed ['tashuv'] the Lord and obey all His commandments that I enjoin upon you this day." (30:8)
4. "For you will be heeding the Lord your God and keeping His commandments and laws…" (30:10)

As Rav Yitzchak Arama points out in his classic work, "Akeidat Yitzchak," these multiple references to the nation's repentance can mean only one thing: teshuva is not an all-or-nothing endeavor. The word "repentance" does not refer to a single act or change of character; there is teshuva and there is teshuva. Repentance can be performed on a variety odifferent levels, in a variety of different forms, and to a variety of different degrees. The common denominator between all forms of teshuva is that they all involve progression, a push forward, a step in the right direction.

What the Torah describes in this chapter, the Akeidat Yitzchak explains, is a process of teshuva, one which features a number of different stages. At the first stage, Benei Yisrael repent "amidst the various nations to which the Lord your God has banished you." At this point, Benei Yisrael suffer the yoke of exile and foreign rule, hardly a situation conducive to religious growth and repentance. But rather than languishing and allowing the flame of faith to flicker and die, Benei Yisrael exert themselves to take the initial steps of teshuva despite the spiritually inhospitable conditions of exile. Indeed, in the following verse, the process continues and intensifies: "And you will return to the Lord your God, and you and your children will heed His command with all your heart and soul." The initial struggle yields more significant progress, a resolve to change "with all your heart and soul." The earliest sparks of introspection and remorse have grown into the flame of a genuine, fundamental change of heart and character.

The Almighty responds by gathering the exiles in Eretz Yisrael (30:3-5), which will naturally facilitate even further stages of growth: "Then the Lord your God will 'circumcise' your heart and the hearts of your offspring to love the Lord your God… " (30:6); "You shall again heed ['tashuv'] the Lord and obey all His commandments that I enjoin upon you this day" (30:8).

What this approach emphasizes, of course, is the immense value of even the smallest step towards repentance, that even the seemingly slightest push forward can yield far more substantial results. We may never flee from genuine teshuva out of despair, thinking that we are not currently in a position to fundamentally change, for even the initial stages are of inestimable value as part of our ongoing pursuit of spiritual excellence and complete teshuva.

*****

At the end of the fifth chapter of Sefer Yehoshua, just prior to Benei Yisrael's successful campaign to capture the city of Yericho, we read of a mysterious confrontation between Yehoshua, Benei Yisrael's leader, and an angel. The Gemara (Megila 3a-3b) explains that the angel had come to criticize Yehoshua for Benei Yisrael's having neglected two important mitzvot. The previous day, the angel observed, Benei Yisrael failed to offer the afternoon tamid offering. Then, on that day, Benei Yisrael did not set aside time for Torah study. According to the Gemara's account, Yehoshua asked the angel for which of these two transgressions in particular has he come to admonish. The Gemara cites the angel's remark "ata vati" ("I have now come" – Yehoshua 5:14) as the angel's response to Yehoshua's question, that he has come primarily because of the people's neglect of Torah study.

On what basis did Chazal conclude that "ata vati" refers to this transgression – the failure to study Torah?

Rashi explains that "ata vati" means, "I have come for the more recent" transgression. Therefore, the angel must refer here to the neglect of Torah study, the sin Benei Yisrael had committed that day, rather than the neglect of the tamid, the transgression that occurred the previous day.

Tosefot, however, explain differently, claiming that the Gemara here associates the word "ata" in this verse with its usage elsewhere – in Parashat Vayelekh (31:19): "And now ['ve-ata'], write for yourselves this song… " Although in the immediate context this verse refers specifically to the song of Ha'azinu, Chazal interpret it as well as a reference to the entire Torah (see Netziv's commentary to this verse). Thus, Tosefot claim, Chazal understood the word "ata" in the angel's response to Yehoshua as an allusion to Torah learning, and it was for the neglect of this mitzva that the angel had come to admonish Yehoshua.

The obvious question arises, why, according to Tosefot's approach, would the angel choose this method of alluding to Torah study, the mitzva which Benei Yisrael had failed to perform? So many other verses throughout the Torah speak far more explicitly about the obligation to study Torah, and yet the angel chose to point specifically to this verse, "And now, write for yourselves this song." Why?

Rav Yosef Kahaneman zt"l, the famed Ponivizher Rav, is cited as explaining Tosefot's approach by first examining the reference to Torah as "shira," song. Why does the word "shira" in this verse connote, on the homiletic level, Torah and Torah study? Rav Kahaneman answered that in truth, "shira" describes one facet of Torah learning – the experiential element, the enthusiasm, the love, the emotional bond the student must forge with God's word. Though one must approach Torah first and foremost as a demanding academic pursuit, this pursuit, unlike any other field of study in which one engages, must be accompanied by a unique feeling of excitement and passion. It was the absence of this "shira" quality for which the angel had come to criticize Yehoshua and the Israelite camp. Of and within itself, Benei Yisrael's failure to hold regular study sessions on the eve of their very first battle in Canaan could perhaps be excused. They were understandably preoccupied, understandably anxious, and understandably overburdened. But, as the angel pointed out, Benei Yisrael's laxity stemmed from an insufficient love for and emotional attachment to Torah study. If they had the proper feelings of enthusiasm towards Torah learning, then they would have found time, they would have made it a priority.

For good reason, then, as Tosefot explain, the angel made a subtle reference to the word "ata" in Parashat Vayelekh, the verse from where we derive the "shira" element of Torah. The angel criticizes Benei Yisrael not for the lack of Torah study per se, but for the source of this laxity – the absence of the fervor and excitement with which we must approach the great privilege of Torah learning.

*****

In foreseeing Benei Yisrael's ultimate repentance, Moshe Rabbenu declares in Parashat Nitzavim, "And you will return to the Lord your God" (30:2). Straightforward as the verse initially appears, Chazal (Pesikta Rabbati 45:9) derive from here a fundamental principle concerning teshuva (repentance): "Great is repentance, for it reaches the Throne of Glory." This passage is presumably based upon the word "ad" ("until," or "unto") in this verse. Moshe could have said, "And you will return TO ['el'] the Lord"; instead, he said, "And you will return UNTO the Lord," which perhaps denotes something beyond mere return to God. (See Malbim's commentary to this verse.)

Of course, it remains unclear what the Midrash has in mind when it speaks of repentance "reaching the Throne of Glory." What does this mean? What unique power of teshuva do Chazal seek to describe?

The "Torat Kohen" is cited as explaining that in Midrashic jargon, the "Throne of Glory" refers to the realm beyond the natural order. Below the Throne, the Almighty governs the world with a specific system of natural laws. These laws affect not only the physical world, but the system of reward and punishment, as well; God created the world with very specific rules of retribution, by which certain acts under certain circumstances will yield certain results. At the level of the Throne, however, God is not bound, so-to-speak, by these laws. The Torat Kohen draws an analogy to a monarch who rules his country based on a written code of law, but is empowered to suspend that code to perform personal favors or, conversely, to deal a blow to his opponents.

Teshuva works the same way – it brings the individual directly to the Throne, it allows him to stand before God as a personal friend, as it were, rather than being subjected, along with all other people, to the natural laws of retribution. Even if one deserves harsh punishment for his misdeeds, teshuva allows him to come before the King on the level of a friend, who is judged on a much more benevostandard than are the rest of the King's subjects.

A famous tradition teaches that the word "Elul," the name of the month preceding Rosh Hashanah, is in fact an acronym for the words, "Ani le-dodi ve-dodi li" ("I am for my beloved, and my beloved is for me" – Shir Hashirim 6:3). What do love and friendship have to do with the month of Elul and the High Holiday period – the time of dread, awe and fear? During Elul we try, through the process of teshuva, to establish a close, personal relationship with the Almighty so that when the Day of Judgment comes, He judges us personally, rather than "by the books." Teshuva brings us directly to the Throne, it enables us to forge a close friendship between us and God – a friendship that is our only hope for a favorable sentence in the Days of Awe. Elul is therefore the month of "I am for my beloved, and my beloved is for me," the month of drawing nearer to God, to His Throne of Glory, such that when Rosh Hashanah comes we stand before Him as a friend, rather than an ordinary subject.

*****

In a famous series of verses in Parashat Nitzavim, Moshe tells Benei Yisrael, "Surely, this mitzva which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling from you, nor is it too distant from you… No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it" (30:11,14). The Sha'arei Simcha (a classic work of commentary on Midrash) cites the following, mysterious passage from a Midrash: "It is not too distant from you – it is close to you."

The obvious question arises as to what the Midrash says that the verses themselves do not. Why would the Midrash simply repeat the words of the verses?

The Sha'arei Simcha explains that the Midrash here imposes a condition on the "closeness" of "this thing." The Ramban and others explain that these verses speak of the mitzva of teshuva, and emphasize the accessibility of teshuva to each and every member of Am Yisrael. The Sha'arei Simcha reads the Midrash as interpreting the verse as follows: "If it is not distant from you, it is close to you." Meaning, when is teshuva well within a person's reach? Only if he does not allow it to become "distant," by delaying his process of repentance. If one does not repent immediately upon becoming aware of his misdeed, then his ability to perform teshuva begins to decline. The longer one waits, the more difficult teshuva becomes, the more "distant" this mitzva is.

Why is this so? Why does teshuva become less accessible the longer one waits?

The most obvious reason has to do with habituation; the longer one waits, the more the wrongdoing becomes second nature and more difficult to change. But this applies only to misdeeds that become part of one's lifestyle and routine. What of the one-time misdeeds, those wrongful actions that we commit only once but fail to contemplate or express our remorse? Why does teshuva for these misdeeds become more difficult with time?

For one thing, the initial revulsion one feels immediately after a wrongful act naturally begins to fade with time. The more distant a memory the incident becomes, the less we feel genuinely distressed over it. We are therefore called upon to repent immediately, before the gravity of the sin fades from our conscience.

Rabbenu Yona, however, towards the beginning of his "Sha'arei Teshuva," adds a further explanation why teshuva becomes more difficult with time. Quite simply, God punishes a sinner for delaying teshuva by making teshuva more difficult. Failure to take advantage of the extraordinary gift of teshuva itself amounts to a terribly grave sin. God punishes this grave sin with an equally grave punishment – a decrease of one's power to perform teshuva. Rabbenu Yona adds that delaying teshuva constitutes a particularly grievous sin during the period of the Ten Days of Repentance, from Rosh Hashanah until Yom Kippur, when teshuva is made ever more accessible to us and brought even closer within reach. If in general we are held accountable for ignoring opportunities for teshuva, then how much more so is this the case during this time of year, when this opportunity is even greater and the mitzva of teshuva even more accessible.

*****

In Parashat Nitzavim, Moshe foresees the calamities Benei Yisrael will suffer on account of their sins, and promises them that God will accept their repentance and return them to their land. God will bless them, Moshe guarantees, "since you will heed the voice of the Lord your God, keeping His commandments and laws that are written in this Book of Torah – once you return to the Lord your God with all your heart and soul" (30:10).

Several writers have attempted to uncover the meaning of the final phrase in this verse – "with all your heart and soul." How does one "heed the voice of the Lord," "keep His commandments" and "return to the Lord your God" with all his "heart and soul"? What is the difference between accomplishing all this with and without one's "heart and soul"?

The Meshekh Chokhma finds the key to interpreting this verse in its middle phrase – "keeping His commandments… that are written in this Book of Torah." Moshe describes here Benei Yisrael's meticulous observance of God's laws based on a careful and precise reading of the Torah. However, as we sadly know, anyone with an original, imaginative mind can read virtually anything he wants into the Torah and codes of law. One who approaches Torah with a set of preconceived notions and ideas of what it "should" say, can, after enough hard work, find a way to extract those notions and ideas from the text. Moshe therefore hinges God's acceptance of Benei Yisrael's repentance on their observance of the mitzvot "with all your heart and soul." They must look to the Torah with a sincere, genuine desire to learn God's will, to understand what the Torah wants of them, without imposing or projecting their own vision onto the words of the Torah.

After citing this approach of the Meshekh Chokhma, Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests a different – though perhaps related - explanation, focusing on the words, "you will heed the VOICE of the Lord." Very often, the voice in which one makes a statement is as significant a vehicle to convey his message as are the words he uses to convey it. The very same words can have vastly different meanings depending on the tone in which they are stated. A similar phenomenon, Rav Ginsburg claims, applies to the written word. The same text can mean different things to different people, depending on how it is read. When it comes to Torah, there is a spirit of the law that accompanies the law itself. One cannot acquire a perfectly clear picture of a given halakha or set of rules in Torah by just reading about it. Only after immersing oneself in Torah, delving into it "with all your heart and soul," does a person attain a complete understanding of both the letter and spirit of the law. Benei Yisrael's return to God therefore requires intensive engagement in His law, rather than casual reading. They must return to God with "all their heart and soul" in order for them to gain a full understanding of what the Torah – both its words and its "voice" - demands of them.

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