Parashat Ki Seitzei is the 49th weekly Torah portion in the annual Jewish cycle of Torah reading.
“Ben sorer kills ejnenu shomea bekol aviv ubekol imo”-
“The son is corrupt and rebellious, he does not obey the voice of his father and the voice of his mother”. The story of the prodigal son is interesting in many ways. Becomes rebellious through an act that goes against basic respect for parents and thereby shows total moral laxity without any inhibitions.
To become a “sorer umore” he must rob his parents, and then make a “party” for his bad friends from these stolen money. It is evident from this that there is a complete failure of family values and hierarchy, which manifests itself in rebellion against dearest authorities.
The sentence that the Torah pronounces on such a son seems inhumanly harsh – the death penalty. However, when we approach
interpretations by which the Wise analyze the text, we find that it is practically impossible to fulfill all the conditions after which fulfilling it would be possible to punish him.
In the Talmud, a clear statement states – in the entire history of the Jewish people, there was no such condemnation, and not even until the future will not come.
The Wise Men very narrowly specify the conditions of the theft – the amount, the son’s age, what he must buy for it (wine and meat), how much what they have to eat, where and with whom. In addition, both parents themselves must come to the rabbinical court, complain and demand that their son be killed (it is hard to imagine such parents). Another limitation concerns parents. If one of them will be any handicapped in some way – mute, deaf, blind, the son cannot be punished either.
There are still many conditions and the question arises – why is such a law written in the Torah when it is practically impossible
apply it? Many explanations can be given to show what was the meaning of these verses. Let’s make a few points. Whole the principle of judgment is not cruelty, but rather mercy with this unfortunate son.
The wise say –
“Better that he dies with a relatively clean slate than commits much worse acts in the future” (murders, etc.), for which will receive a much heavier punishment from the heavenly court.
It is a prevention against the growing evil, but all this only in the idea of the thing, because in reality the Wise Ones come and establish the whole the range of conditions that move the possible judgment to the hypothetical level. Another aspect is that the Torah stipulates a certain “psychological-educational constant” – at the age of 12 (which is the only age when he can be punished for it), is a person is already ready, made, all the spiritual mechanisms that he
they will determine behavior in life. Education is finished at this age – either successfully or vice versa, and it can no longer be done do nothing further. (Of course, it is still possible for a person to realize other values in adulthood, and through his work he changes his personality on himself. However, this is extremely difficult and few people find within themselves this power to change. In
The Talmud says that it is harder to change one of the characteristics in oneself than it was to part the sea when leaving Egypt.
This statement shows us the difficulty of later personality changes.)
Last but not least, it comes as a great and final warning to the son. It wants to shake him to be even more he recovered and tried to reassess his attitudes and save his life and his soul for the future. It is also emphatic
a rebuke to parents for their way of raising them. Apparently they failed to navigate their son’s soul well while raising – too much softness and pampering that has caused him to lack basic social instincts and respect for them.
Or, on the contrary, the upbringing was too hard and “broke” the child’s soul. Such failure in education often stems from handicap of parents (what Tora calls – deaf, dumb, blind). Because the parents themselves are affected by something, they were not well-bred themselves, and have bad characteristics and habits, the child receives such a “family inheritance” in the wine.
(There is a story about a rabbi to whom a young mother-to-be came and asked him how to raise a child who will be born to her. The rabbi told her – “You are late, you should have come 25 years ago” (when she herself was a baby).)
“Ve talita oto al ec” – “And you will hang him on a tree”. Why is it necessary to hang the condemned man’s body on a tree after he was killed by stoning and thus received his punishment? And why are only those who are cursed by G-d punished in this way
name, or did they serve idolatry?
In this second question, there is already a hint of an explanation of the whole thing (they say – good question, half answer).
The whole case has deep roots. They extend back to the Creation of the world where Adam’s failure to command of the Lord. He was given the entire Garden of Eden, with the challenge that he was forbidden to eat from two trees – The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and the Tree of Life. However, a snake came and managed to convince Adam that this one G-d issued the ban only so that he – Adam – would not become his equal. If he dreams of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, he will become all knowing, just like G-d. Adam believed and ate. This failure was classified as blasphemy
to the Hashem. How can Adam think that he who was just created can suddenly “rise” to the level of G-d?
After all, he belongs to the created, and not to the Creator. Therefore came the harsh punishment of expulsion from Paradise, which is the reason for it mortality. Sin is symbolized precisely by the Tree of Knowledge. This is the reason why the Torah commands us – the one who whoever is guilty of blasphemy, or idolatry – rebellion against the Hashem, will be hanged on a tree after his death, in remembrance of Adam’s sin. It is a punishment for the soul, since the body has already been punished. The following passage in our parasha is peculiar in its arrangement. It intertwines themes for which it is general the consensus that they are the foundations of coexistence in society, with topics whose essence is difficult to understand. It starts the obligation to return a thing that the other has lost, even when we do not know the owner. Finder must in public “advertise” that he has a thing that he specifies to a certain extent so that the owner understands that what is being talked about lost On the other hand, they hide some identifying features, according to which potential interested parties are then asked and determined, who is the real owner. There is a clear moral appeal to society for honesty and helping others. In a similar the continuation also speaks to the spirit, which calls for the duty to help one’s neighbor in time of need (for example – help another with his donkey), even if he does not have good relations with the other.
(Neighbor = a person, and not a relative. True “helping one’s neighbor” does not mean, as many think, in a narrow circle
family and friends, but especially people we can’t “stand”.)
And suddenly a “special” order comes – a woman is forbidden to wear something masculine (in a broader sense -e.g. pious Jews do not go to the army, due to, among other things, holding a weapon – men’s tools – a man fights and not woman), and conversely, a man may not wear women’s clothes.
Moreover, this prohibition is strongly reinforced – “it is an abomination to the Hashem”. What’s so terrible about this innocent exchange?
A simple interpretation says – so that they do not mix with each other and promiscuity does not prevail. In today’s modern however, such an explanation will sound archaic to society.
However, the command is not meant only for “external signs” – clothing, etc., in its principle, it speaks about the general the arrangement of the world – there are women and there are men, which are two completely different worlds (I do not mean this in any derogatory way). Woman thinks
she feels, reacts completely differently than a man, and has a completely different scale of values than a man. The two then join theirs together opposites into mutual symbiosis and harmony. By the fact that today the world promotes “overall” equality (the same application in society), he is doing himself a “disservice”, since this “self realization” will not make people more satisfied.
This only obscures and complicates the understanding of one’s own essence, where the use of natural ones is the basis physical and spiritual prerequisites and gifts (not their suppression, or “overriding”). The passage continues “special” mitzvah – “shiluach ha-ken” – the mission of the bird – the mother from the nest, before taking the eggs. The command is amplified in conclusion – “for this you will have a good time and you will live a long time”. Again, at a superficial glance, the whole thing seems to us incomprehensible. Why such a command, and if so, what is so difficult about it that the Lord “gives away” a long life for it (which is not written for any other commandment except honoring one’s parents, which is considered the most difficult in the entire Torah)? There are explanations that speak of the manifestation of mercy, but more essential is the principle that the whole passage wants us to know show. Torah’s logic is different from ours. What we would divide into essential and non-essential includes compactly into one whole, and it tells us that – things work differently than you think. The Tory system reveals to us the complexity of Creation, and shows us our limited understanding of context. (There is a Midrash where Moshe asked G-d, to make him understand how justice works in the world. G-d played before his eyes the story of several people who
seemed completely illogical and unfair to him. Moshe did not understand, and G-d explained to him that it was about closing certain ones old debts, and there was a fair resolution. He wanted to show Moshe that it is impossible for a person to understand the ways G-d lives in Creation. We, as humans, limited in time, space and understanding cannot fully understand the things happening in life and the world, and therefore we cannot establish absolute values and truths. This should be well understood in today’s world, which confuses quantity with quality in the field of knowledge.
“Lo javo amoni umoavi bikhal Hashem” –
“Ammonites and Moabites will not come to the Hashem’s city”.
It is written that Amon and Moab can never come into the village of G-d. In contrast, the Torah states that Edom and Egypt they can, after three generations, convert to Judaism. What is the difference between these two groups? Regular reader of Torah would rather say the opposite verdict. The Egyptians and Edomites behaved much more harshly and dangerously towards Israel. Egypt killed their newborn babies, and when Israel fled they pursued them and wanted to kill them. Edom to them, at the request of Israel to pass through his territory, they came out to meet the army and wanted to make war with them. In contrast, Moab and Ammon “only”
they tried to put them on the grass by wanting to seduce them with their daughters and thereby avert their defeat.
However, the Torah says otherwise. Why?
The rule is called -“Worse is the one who wants to cause a person to sin than the one who wants to kill him!” The murderer kills the body, but the one who led him astray kills the soul. In this context the verses are already understandable. The interpreter goes on to explain that the restriction of Moab and Ammon only applies to men and not to women. One of the reasons is the one so other nations don’t think Judaism is racist.
Anyone, from any nation, can convert to Judaism, and in principle this also applies to Moab and Ammon. As however, they committed a dangerous attempt to “spiritually” destroy Israel, they are exemplary punished – they cannot convert. However, women can so that the punishment is not interpreted as a “racist law”. A shining example is Rut – a Moabite princess who wanted to join the Jewish people, which she was allowed to do, and he even married her the wife of Boaz, who was the leader of the nation at the time. She thus became the great-grandmother of King David, which is clear evidence that the he who approaches Israel wholeheartedly and with pure intentions can attain the highest degrees in relation to G-d and in the community of Israel.
Chassidic Parashat
The Real Battle
“When you go out to war against your enemies, Hashem will make you victorious
over them, and you will take captives.” (Deut. 21:10)
Rashi zt”l comments that the verse is talking about a “Milchemes Rishus”, an optional war, and not one that the Torah demands of Yisroel to fight. The Chassidic literature finds in this verse and Rashi’s commentary on it, some basic tenets of Chassidic practice. R’ Avraham Yaacov of Sadiger, the son of
R’ Yisrael of Ruzhin, explained. Every material thing in creation is endowed with a unique and wholly spiritual element which enlivens that item, as it is written in Nechemia 9:6, (and found in the Shacharis service in the end of V’Yevaraiych Dovid) “. . .and You constantly give life to all living things.”
Every item of food and drink is especially imbued with this spiritual vitality as it is
written, “The Tzaddik eats for the satiation of his soul”. (Proverbs 13:25). The Tzaddik eats in order to extract and elevate the spiritual portion of the food.
In every action a person ought to endeavor to be conscious of the spiritual element inherent in the item from which he is benefiting, since no thing is devoid of this spiritual, enlivening aspect.
Given this understanding, one might think that in order to raise up its spiritual element, it would be permissible to do something forbidden by the Torah!
Nevertheless, the sages inform us (Yevamos 20a), “Sanctify yourself with that
which is permissible to you”. This Avodah is proper only with things which are not forbidden to you.
Now understand the meaning of our verse. “When you go out to war against your enemies. . .”, when you set out to do battle against the Yezter Hara, your negative inclination, then you should “take captives”, that is to say, to gather up and elevate the Holy Sparks of the spiritual aspect which enlivens every living thing and have fallen into captivity.
As Rashi informs us, this is the “Milchemes Rishus”, the battle to sanctify the things which the Torah permits us to benefit from. Even those things which the Torah permits us (gives rishus to us to use), must be enjoyed in a manner which will liberate and elevate the fallen sparks which have become captives of the Yezter Hara.
Once, R’ Chaim of Sanz, the Divrei Chaim (1797-1876), was travelling on a boat across the (Dnieper?) river. During the crossing, the Rebbi stood on the deck leaning against the railing, smoking his ever present pipe. Suddenly, the pipe slipped from his mouth and fell into the water of the river below! The Rebbe made a quick calculation. If he acted immediately, he could manage to bend over the railing and retrieve his pipe. But just as suddenly as the pipe had fallen in, he
remembered that he had never in his life bent himself over to come closer to, or to
partake of any material pleasure. Although smoking his pipe was a distinctive component of his Avodas Hashem, he left it to float away in the water.
When the boat docked at the pier on the other side of the river, R’ Chaim disembarked. As he walked down the pier towards the shore, he became aware of
something near his feet, bobbing up and down in the water. He realized that it
was his pipe! He nodded his head in appreciation to Hashem, and this time bent
over slightly to reach the pipe. His grandson, the late Sanz-Klausenberger Rebbe (1904-1994), remarked, that he remembered seeing the pipe which had been kept as a family heirloom, before it was lost during the Holocaust. It was recognizable by its distended bowl which had absorbed so much water that day in the river. He then added, that since his grandfather had always raised the spiritual level of any material item that he had had benefit from, he experienced a miracle that day when Hashem returned his pipe, in essence, raising up the material to a more spiritual level.
Coming Clean
“. . . and you will eliminate the evil within (from amongst) you, and all of Israel will
hear about it and they will fear.” (Deut. 21:21)
R’ Avraham Mattisyahu of Shtefanesht, (1847-1933), the son of the Shtefaneshter Rebbe, the fourth son of R’ Yisrael of Ruzhin, was considered to be one of the hidden Tzaddikim of his generation, even though he never recited a Torah thought in public, and there is hardly one idea that can be said over in his name. He learned in strict privacy in his room and forbade entrance to all comers.
He carefully replaced the books when he finished, leaving no sign that they had ever been used. Only once was he “caught” with a sefer in his hands. Yet, he was totally immersed in his Avodas Hashem.
Once, a certain chossid of the Rebbe asked him about his behavior. “The Rebbe”, he said addressing R’ Avraham Mattisyahu, “doesn’t ever deliver a Torah thought, not even at the Tish, nevertheless, thousands constantly arrive to be in the Rebbe’s presence! How is this possible?
“What is so surprising to you?”, began the Rebbe in what was to be one of the only Torah thoughts attributable to his name. “The verse says, ‘. . . and you will eliminate the evil within (from amongst) you’. When one does that, then the result is, ‘and all of Israel will hear about it and they will fear’.”
Jewish Marriage
“When a man takes a new bride, he shall not enter military service nor be assigned to any associated duty. He must remain free for his wife for one year, and he shall rejoice with his bride that he married.” (Deut. 24:5)
As it is well known, marriage and family are at the core of Jewish life. In fact, the very first mitzvah in the Torah is to be fruitful and multiply. This implies marriage and then giving birth to and raising children.
As most people know, the divorce rate today in our traditional Jewish communities, is exceedingly low. One of the reasons why, even in today’s world, we have so much success in transmitting the values of marriage and family, may well be because of the mitzvah we learn from the above verse.
The Sefer HaChinuch, the book of Mitzvos education, learns from this verse it’s 582nd (from amongst 613) mitzvah.
“The groom shall rejoice with his bride for a full year.”
The Torah enjoins the young groom to gladden his new bride and rejoice with her
for a full year. This means that he should not travel out of town, nor go to war, nor to any other activity that will result in him being alone for a number of days without his bride. He should dwell together with her for a full year from the day of the wedding, as it is written, “. . . he must remain free for his wife for one year, and he shall rejoice with his bride that he married”.
The underlying reason of the mitzvah is, that Hashem, in His infinite wisdom, chose to create the world. He desired that it be populated with healthy and deserving creations who would unite in holiness, male and female. Since to Hashem, promiscuity and immorality are abhorrent, he decreed concerning the people who are called by his name, that a man should dwell for a full year with the woman who has been designated to bring souls in to the world together with him.
In this year, he accustoms himself to her nature, and she to his, and he binds his thoughts to hers. He instills her likeness in his heart and allows her ways to permeate his soul. Then she will become familiar to him and any likeness or association with any other woman will seem to him as utterly foreign. He will shun any contact with other women. His wife, with whom only he is intimate, shall become the sole business of his being. The children born of such a union will be pleasing and becoming, and the world will be full of grace in the eyes of Hashem.
A Guten Shabbos
My Personal Commentary On Midrash Rabbah Seitzei
Parashat 6 Chapter 1
**A Merciful Decree: An Expansive Exploration of Divine Mercy in Jewish Law**
The intricate and multifaceted relationship between divine mercy and the observance of commandments stands as a cornerstone within the vast realm of Jewish law and ethical thought. The exploration of this relationship unveils the profound ways in which these themes resonate within the sacred texts, traditions, and lived experiences of the Jewish people. This essay delves deeply into the concept of divine mercy, particularly as articulated within the Mishnah and the Gemara, focusing specifically on the mitzvah of shiluach hakein, the commandment to send away the mother bird. Through this examination, we aim to illuminate how this mitzvah not only embodies principles of mercy and compassion but also serves as a reflection of the moral fabric that underpins Jewish ethical teachings.
The Mishnah, which serves as an essential component of the Oral Torah, presents a thought-provoking case regarding the invocation of G-d’s mercy in relation to the commandment of sending away the mother bird. In the Gemara, particularly within Berachos 33b, two distinct opinions emerge regarding the treatment of an individual who invokes divine mercy on behalf of the bird during prayer. The first interpretation, articulated by Rashi, suggests that such an invocation may inadvertently incite jealousy among the creatures of creation. By implying that G-d’s mercy is selectively directed towards birds, the individual may unintentionally suggest that other creatures, including humans, are not afforded the same compassion. This interpretation calls into question the nature of divine mercy and its equitable distribution across the spectrum of creation.
The second opinion posits that equating the commandments with acts of mercy diminishes their significance. This perspective suggests that by framing divine decrees in terms of human emotional responses, we risk transforming them into mere human interpretations, thereby neglecting their essence as divine mandates. This notion raises a critical theological question: What does it mean to understand the commandments as expressions of divine will? The varying interpretations of these opinions have led to a rich and vibrant discourse among the Rishonim, the early commentators of Jewish law, each contributing their insights to the ongoing conversation.
The Rambam, in his seminal work *Moreh Nevuchim*, firmly asserts that the commandments exist beyond human rational comprehension, representing solely the unknowable will of G-d. He emphasizes that the commandments are not bound by human logic or reason; rather, they embody expressions of divine authority that guide human behavior. In this context, the Rambam’s perspective serves to elevate the commandments above mere ethical considerations, casting them in a light that emphasizes their divine origin and purpose. Conversely, the Ramban offers a more nuanced interpretation, contending that while the commandments may not be rooted in divine mercy towards animals, they serve an essential didactic purpose—teaching humanity to cultivate compassion and to avoid cruelty. This interpretation underscores the dual role of commandments: they function not only as divine edicts but also as instruments for moral and ethical character development.
As we further explore these themes, it becomes clear that the connection between the mitzvah of shiluach hakein and circumcision, or bris milah, presents an intriguing contrast that can deepen our understanding of mercy within the framework of Jewish law. At first glance, the act of circumcision may seem to contradict the merciful ethos embodied in sending away the mother bird, as it involves causing pain to a newborn for the sake of fulfilling a commandment. This apparent contradiction invites us to delve deeper into the underlying principles that govern these commandments.
The Midrash offers profound insights that bridge these two commandments, revealing the complexities of human experience in relation to divine law. The ultimate fulfillment of divine will, whether through acts of mercy or through the discipline of circumcision, leads to a realization of true goodness. The juxtaposition of these two commandments illustrates the complexity of moral decision-making and the necessity of discerning when to exercise compassion and when to adhere to the sometimes painful, yet beneficial mandates of faith. In this light, the mitzvah of shiluach hakein instructs one to demonstrate care and sensitivity even to the seemingly insignificant lives of birds. It emphasizes the importance of empathy and compassion, fostering an understanding that our moral responsibilities extend beyond our own species and encompass all of creation.
Conversely, the commandment of circumcision represents an act that requires a father to confront the discomfort of subjecting his child to pain. Yet, this act is justified as it serves a higher purpose—the enduring well-being and spiritual connection of the child to the covenant of Abraham. The insight gained from this juxtaposition highlights the necessity of grappling with the complexities of moral obligations, as individuals navigate the delicate balance between compassion and discipline.
The Torah’s assurance of long life as a reward for the mitzvah of shiluach hakein signifies a recognition of the emotional toll that deep compassion can exact. It serves as a reminder that while we are called to nurture mercy, we must remain vigilant of its potential to overwhelm us. The careful navigation of emotions is critical, as unchecked sensitivity to the suffering of others can lead to an inability to act effectively. In this context, the role of the Torah becomes paramount, serving as a guiding framework that helps adherents balance their emotional responses with the demands of moral obligation.
Moreover, the deeper lesson of these commandments lies in their capacity to cultivate a well-rounded character. The person who allows the teachings of the Torah to guide them in discerning which trait to exercise at any given moment becomes the ideal individual—someone who embodies the values of mercy, compassion, and righteousness while remaining grounded in the ethical imperatives of Jewish law. This balance nurtures an understanding that both mercy and discipline have their place within the moral landscape of Jewish life. The Torah encourages individuals to develop a sensitivity to the suffering of others while also recognizing the necessity of sometimes suppressing those feelings for the greater good.
In addition, the discourse surrounding these commandments invites a broader reflection on the ethical responsibilities of individuals within the Jewish community. The teachings of Judaism compel us to navigate our moral landscape in a manner that honors both divine authority and the intrinsic value of compassion. By engaging deeply with the text and the traditions, we cultivate a sense of moral agency that empowers us to act in ways that reflect the ethical teachings of our faith. This commitment to moral action is not merely an individual endeavor; it extends to our relationships with others and the broader community.
Furthermore, the exploration of divine mercy and ethical behavior within Jewish law raises important questions about contemporary moral dilemmas. As we grapple with issues such as environmental stewardship, social justice, and the treatment of animals, the teachings of shiluach hakein and the principles of compassion and empathy resonate powerfully. The call to act with mercy and to uphold ethical standards serves as a guiding light for individuals seeking to navigate the complexities of modern life.
In conclusion, the intricate relationship between divine decrees, mercy, and human emotion, as explored in the Mishnah, Gemara, and Midrash, reflects a profound understanding of ethical behavior within Judaism. The commandments serve not only as guidelines for actions but also as instruments for character development. By adhering to these decrees, individuals cultivate a balanced disposition capable of exercising mercy while recognizing the necessity of discipline in fulfilling divine will. Ultimately, the teachings of Judaism compel us to navigate our moral landscape in a manner that honors both divine authority and the intrinsic value of compassion.
Parashat 6 Chapter 3
**Seeds of Light: The Illuminating Power of Commandments in Our Daily Lives**
In the rich and diverse tapestry of Jewish thought, the concept of commandments, or mitzvot, transcends mere adherence to religious law; it embodies a profound connection between the divine and the mundane. The Midrash poignantly identifies the phrase “an adornment of grace” from Proverbs 1:9 as the commandments that accompany a person’s earthly tasks. This perspective invites us to reflect deeply on the transformative potential of mitzvot in our daily lives, reminding us of their inherent role as seeds of light that illuminate our spiritual journey and guide us back to our divine purpose.
The Midrashic interpretation of “Light is sown for the righteous” (Psalms 97:11) further elucidates this concept, positing that G-d has imbued the world with commandments to enable His children to access the eternal life of the World to Come. This notion invites contemplation on the duality of our existence: while we navigate the physical world, we often find ourselves ensnared in the illusion of autonomy, where the Divine Presence becomes obscured by the façade of natural law. This disconnect can lead to a profound sense of spiritual disorientation, and it is through the lens of Ohr Gedalyahu that we begin to understand the implications of this concealment. He explains that as we move through our daily lives, the illusion of control strengthens, and our awareness of G-d diminishes, ultimately causing us to forget our true purpose: to serve G-d and sanctify His Name.
As we traverse our daily lives, the distractions of the material world can indeed narrow our frame of reference and cause us to overlook our essential spiritual nature. In this context, the commandments serve as a divine remedy, reminding us of the hidden presence of G-d in all aspects of our existence. In divine wisdom, G-d has seeded Creation with commandments—each containing a kernel of sacred light. These mitzvot act as guiding beacons, illuminating the path that leads us back to our divine source. When we engage in our mundane tasks, be it through work, family responsibilities, or community service, we can transform these activities into acts of divine service, thus elevating our entire existence into a sacred practice.
Each mundane task we undertake, when accompanied by its corresponding commandment, allows us to release the light contained within. For instance, the simple act of eating can be enriched by the conscious observance of kashrut, the dietary laws, which not only serve to guide our consumption but also remind us of our connection to the Divine. In these moments of spiritual alignment, the darkness that often obscures our vision is dispelled, and we are momentarily graced with a vision of the Holy One. Each act, therefore, becomes a potential encounter with the Divine, a fleeting glimpse of the sacred embedded in the ordinary.
The Zohar aptly refers to the commandments as “poy,” meaning counsels, highlighting their role as wise guidance from the Master of Counsel. They are not mere directives; rather, they represent a source of profound insight designed to steer us on a straight path, clarifying our thoughts and rectifying our deeds. This understanding emphasizes the active role of mitzvot in our lives; they are not external impositions but intimate connections to the Divine that enrich our spiritual and ethical conduct. In observing the mitzvot, we cultivate a heightened awareness of our actions, fostering a sense of mindfulness that permeates every facet of our daily lives.
In light of this understanding, we turn to the interpretation of Proverbs by Ohr Gedalyahu. The Hebrew word “livyas,” which denotes “attachment,” signifies the binding relationship between mankind and the Creator. The term “Tux”—translated as “your head”—is interpreted as “your source,” indicating that mitzvot serve to attach humanity to G-d, the very source of all Creation. This relationship is not static; rather, it is dynamic and reciprocal. As we engage in mitzvot, we draw closer to G-d, and in turn, G-d’s light flows into our lives, guiding our actions and illuminating our paths.
The commandments are further described as “grace,” with the letters forming this word alluding to “hidden wisdom.” This hidden wisdom encapsulates the seeds of light that are secreted within the mundane deeds of ordinary individuals. Each commandment, thus, is like a treasure chest, waiting to be opened through our conscious engagement. When we perform a mitzvah, we tap into this hidden wisdom, allowing it to enrich our understanding of ourselves and our relationship with the world around us.
The implications of these teachings are indeed profound and far-reaching. By recognizing the commandments as vessels of divine illumination, we can begin to integrate this understanding into our daily routines. When we engage with our responsibilities—be it in our work, family life, or community service—we can consciously strive to perform our actions within the framework of mitzvot. This does not imply a rigid adherence to rules but rather an intentional infusion of spiritual awareness into our everyday activities. In doing so, we cultivate an awareness of the divine presence that permeates our lives, transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary.
Furthermore, this process of integration encourages us to view our interactions with others through a lens of compassion and understanding. The mitzvot that govern interpersonal relationships compel us to act with kindness, justice, and love, thus fostering a sense of community and interconnectedness. When we approach our relationships with the intention of sanctifying G-d’s Name, we create a ripple effect of positivity and light in our surroundings.
In conclusion, the seeds of light that G-d has sown within the commandments invite us to reclaim our spiritual awareness in a world often shrouded in darkness. By engaging with mitzvot as guiding counsels, we not only enhance our own spiritual journey but also contribute to the sanctification of G-d’s Name in the world. This journey of attachment to the Divine, illuminated by the grace of commandments, ultimately leads us toward a deeper understanding of our purpose and the legacy we are meant to cultivate in this life and beyond. Through the practice of mitzvot, we can embody the radiant presence of the Holy One, allowing His light to shine through our actions and illuminate the path for others. As we cultivate this awareness, we become agents of divine grace in our communities, sharing the seeds of light with all who cross our paths, thus fulfilling our sacred role in the tapestry of Creation.
Parashat 6 Chapter 4
**The Continuation of the Species: A Comprehensive Exploration of the Mitzvah of Sending Away the Mother Bird**
In the tapestry of Jewish tradition, the teachings and commandments provided within the Torah serve as both spiritual guidance and moral frameworks that shape human behavior. Among these mitzvot (commandments), one that stands out for its unique blend of practicality and profound ethical implications is the commandment to send away the mother bird before taking her young. This mitzvah, known in Hebrew as *Shiluach HaKen*, is often perceived through the lens of compassion and respect for the natural order, but it also opens the door to deeper philosophical and theological discourse. The vast array of commentaries dedicated to this mitzvah elucidates the connection between the observance of this commandment and the rewards of parenthood, illustrating how the act of compassion towards the natural world mirrors the divine providence that governs our existence.
The origins of the mitzvah are found in the Torah, specifically in the book of Deuteronomy (22:6-7), where it states: “If you come across a bird’s nest along the road, in any tree or on the ground, with young ones or eggs, and the mother is sitting on the young or on the eggs, do not take the mother with the young. You must send the mother away, and then you may take the young for yourself.” At first glance, this commandment seems quite practical, serving as a guideline for ethical behavior in relation to animals. However, upon deeper examination, it becomes evident that this mitzvah invites reflection on broader themes such as compassion, the sanctity of life, and the divine order of creation.
One of the most insightful explorations of the deeper meaning behind this mitzvah comes from the *Sefer HaChinuch*, a foundational work that outlines the 613 commandments of the Torah. The *Sefer HaChinuch* posits that the act of sending away the mother bird serves as a reminder of G-d’s providence over all creation. By sparing the mother bird, we are not only demonstrating compassion towards an animal but also acknowledging the intricate web of life that G-d has established. This act of kindness ultimately reflects a broader understanding of our relationship with the natural world and the importance of nurturing and preserving it. In this sense, the mitzvah becomes a means of connecting to the divine ethos of stewardship and care for all living beings.
This connection to divine providence is further emphasized through various commentaries, including insights from the *Ramban* (Nachmanides). He articulates that the commandment to spare the mother bird stems from a divine desire to protect all species from extinction. This perspective aligns with the Jewish belief that every creature has a purpose and a role within the larger framework of creation. By adhering to this mitzvah, individuals are not only participating in the preservation of life but are also engaging in a reciprocal relationship with the divine, wherein their own lives and legacies will be blessed in return.
The Talmudic literature adds another layer to this exploration, particularly through the discussion by *Divrei Mahari* and *Cheishev Sofer*. They elucidate the concept of “measure for measure,” suggesting that the observance of this mitzvah is rewarded with the divine blessing of children. This idea reinforces the notion that the act of compassion extends beyond the immediate moment; it reverberates through time and space, ultimately culminating in the continuation of one’s lineage. The connection between the fulfillment of this mitzvah and the blessings of children is not merely coincidental, but rather a manifestation of the divine order that governs all existence. The promise of children as a reward serves to remind individuals of the sacredness of life and the importance of nurturing future generations.
As we delve deeper into the layers of meaning surrounding the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird, we uncover a wealth of teachings that connect parenthood to the act of compassion. The *Chasam Sofer*, another esteemed commentator, highlights the intrinsic link between the experience of parenthood and the cultivation of empathy. The notion that the act of raising children naturally fosters a deeper sense of compassion speaks to the transformative power of love and responsibility. Parenthood, in its essence, is a profound journey that shapes individuals, inviting them to reflect on their capacity for empathy and care. The experience of nurturing and guiding the next generation becomes a way to embody the very principles espoused by this mitzvah, thus aligning one’s actions with the divine will.
Moreover, the *Oznaim LaTorah* offers a poignant insight into the behavior of the mother bird, whose instinctual drive to protect her young transcends the boundaries of self-preservation. This innate maternal instinct serves as a powerful reminder of the deep bond shared between parents and their offspring. By honoring this instinct through the mitzvah, individuals engage in an act that acknowledges and respects the profound connection inherent in parenthood. The mitzvah, therefore, is not simply a commandment to be observed; it is an opportunity to reflect on the nature of love, sacrifice, and responsibility that defines the parental experience.
The reward of children, as articulated in various commentaries, is not merely a physical manifestation of lineage but rather a spiritual continuation of one’s values and teachings. The Midrash teaches that a childless individual is likened to a person who is dead, emphasizing the importance of children as carriers of one’s legacy. Therefore, the fulfillment of the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird is a pathway through which individuals can not only reflect on their own journey but also cultivate an enduring legacy that impacts future generations. This understanding reinforces the idea that the act of compassion towards the natural world is intricately connected to the moral and spiritual responsibilities of parenthood.
In conclusion, the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird is a rich and multifaceted commandment that embodies the essence of compassion, divine providence, and the continuity of life. Through various interpretations offered by esteemed commentators, it becomes increasingly clear that the observance of this mitzvah extends beyond the act itself; it serves as a profound reflection on the interconnectedness of all creation and the moral responsibilities that accompany human existence. The connection between the fulfillment of this commandment and the blessings of parenthood underscores the importance of nurturing life, both in the natural world and within our families.
Ultimately, the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird invites individuals to reflect on their roles within the larger framework of creation, encouraging them to act with compassion and responsibility. In a world that often challenges the values of empathy and stewardship, this commandment serves as a timeless reminder of the intricate relationship between humanity and the divine, urging us to embrace our responsibilities and cherish the sacred gift of life in all its forms. As we engage with this mitzvah, we are reminded of the profound impact our actions can have, both in nurturing future generations and in fostering a deeper understanding of our interconnectedness with the natural world. The journey of parenthood, framed within the teachings of this mitzvah, becomes a transformative experience that enriches our lives and the lives of those around us, weaving a narrative of compassion, love, and continuity that transcends time and space.
Parashat 6 Chapter 5
The mitzvah of shiluach ha‑kēn — sending away the mother bird before taking her young — is one of the Torah’s most striking commandments: a short, almost spare law that the Sages expanded into a rich moral and spiritual symbol. A Midrash on the apparently redundant phrase “shiluach t’shalach” (“you shall surely send away the mother bird”) derives three remarkable rewards for the one who performs this mitzvah: the means to free a Jewish bondservant, the coming of Elijah to herald the Redemption, and the arrival of the Messiah who will restore the Davidic throne. At first glance these blessings seem disparate. Why should an act of compassion to an animal be linked to national consolation, prophetic visitation, and dynastic restoration?
R’ Zev Hoberman’s (Ze’ev) approach—useful both literarily and homiletically—draws these threads together by locating the mitzvah in a wider moral grammar: compassion creates bond, bond creates unity, and unity culminates in full consolation and national restoration. The following unpacks that approach and explains why the three rewards are not only fitting but deeply instructive.
1) Compassion as the seed of divine compassion and human unity
The Talmud famously states that “one who has compassion for creatures — in heaven they will have compassion for him” (Shabbat 151b). R’ Zev takes this as the hinge of the Midrash’s logic. When a person refrains from selfishness and shows mercy to a mother bird — pausing to send her away rather than take her young while she watches — he is doing more than obeying a ritual; he is concretely practicing sensitivity to another being’s pain and vulnerability. That act trains and evidences a character disposed to empathy rather than aloofness.
Maharal (my 22nd great grandfather) and other classical sources emphasize that Jewish destiny is bound up with unity. Jerusalem and the Temple functioned historically as centers of cohesion: pilgrimage, sacrifice, and communal worship gave the nation a shared identity. Conversely, baseless hatred and divisiveness destroyed that unity and precipitated catastrophe. R’ Zev reads shiluach ha‑kēn as a microcosm of this truth: compassion links the actor to the circle of G-d’s creations and, by extension, to fellow human beings. The person who can feel the mother bird’s distress is more likely to feel another human’s distress — the basic precondition of communal solidarity.
2) Elijah and the consolation of a reunited people
One of the Midrashic rewards is the coming of Elijah, who in rabbinic thought is the herald of redemption. R’ Zev connects this promise to the consolatory image Isaiah uses when he speaks of the restoration of Jerusalem: the city comforting her children “as a nursing mother” (Isaiah). Redemption, in this idiom, is not merely political or architectural; it is a relational healing after exile and rupture. The person who cultivates compassion thereby participates in the spiritual dynamics that make consolation possible. In the Midrashic imagination, G-d’s response to human compassion is to hasten that healing — a visitation typified by Elijah who calls the people to repentance and reunification.
3) Messiah and the restoration of legitimate leadership
The third reward — the eventual restoration of the Davidic throne — answers a theological problem raised by Rambam: consolation (nechamah) is not complete with Jerusalem rebuilt; full consolation requires rightful leadership. A people scattered and leaderless may be gathered geographically, but true national cohesion requires a focal commitment to a covenantal monarchy that embodies justice and unity. R’ Zev argues that the spiritual quality nurtured by shiluach ha‑kēn — the willingness to treat other beings as intrinsically worthy and to restrain selfish domination — disposes a society toward accepting and sustaining just, compassionate leadership. Thus the small moral habit has consequences that map onto the grand arc of history.
4) The reward of freeing a Jewish bondservant: a moral and practical link
Why, among these supra‑national gifts, does the Midrash also promise a material reward — the means to own and ultimately free a Jewish bondservant? R’ Zev’s reading makes the connection clear: owning a bondservant creates a moral challenge. Torah law insists the master treat the servant with dignity and release him after the prescribed term, but the structures of power and habit can blunt a master’s sensitivity. Only someone who has proven himself capable of restraining instinctive domination — someone who has practiced compassion in an immediate, inconvenient situation like sending away a mother bird — is likely to extend genuine brotherhood to a dependent fellow Jew. In this sense, the reward is not gratuitous wealth; it is preparation and provision for the next moral test: to bring a fellow Israelite back into autonomy. God blesses the compassionate person with the means and the disposition to perform further acts that heal social fractures.
5) The psychological and ethical frame: overcoming blindness to oneself
R’ Zev also weaves into his exposition a classical psychological insight found in the halakhic literature on tzara’at and elsewhere: people readily see the faults of others yet are often blind to their own. Genuine compassion and unity require self‑awareness and willingness to be corrected. The mitzvah of shiluach ha‑kēn can function as a simple moral laboratory: it invites us to practice attentiveness to another’s suffering, to humble ourselves before small inconveniences, and to allow that practice to reveal and reshape our inner blind spots. Moreover, as sages taught, one can learn about his own failings from the faults he perceives in others; compassionate humility opens the door to that kind of honest moral diagnosis.
Practical implications and a modest ethic for today
R’ Zev’s approach turns an ancient, concise commandment into a program for personal and communal repair. A few practical takeaways:
– Cultivate small acts of compassion. The moral muscle strengthened by modest sacrifices is the same one required for larger communal obligations.
– See kindness as civic formation. Personal empathy is not merely private piety; it is the ground of social trust and national resilience.
– Practice self‑inspection with humility. Invite others to help correct you; projection often disguises your own deepest needs for growth.
– Remember the theological parity: God’s compassion to us is, in rabbinic imagination, responsive to human compassion. Moral acts matter.
Conclusion
The Midrashic promise that shiluach ha‑kēn brings the means to free a bondservant, the coming of Elijah, and the restoration of the Davidic throne is not a string of unrelated boons. Read through R’ Zev Hoberman’s lens, those rewards form a coherent chain: compassion binds the individual to creation and to fellow humans; that bond fosters unity; unity becomes the soil from which prophetic consolation and legitimate, consoling leadership can grow. Sending away the mother bird thus models the ethic required for personal teshuvah and national redemption alike: mercy, humility, and a readiness to be bound into community rather than to lord it over others.
Parashat 6 Chapter 8
**A Mission Not Accomplished: An In-Depth Exploration of the Midrash on Eve and Womanhood**
The Midrash, a crucial component of Jewish literature that encompasses rabbinic interpretations and teachings, provides fertile ground for exploration and reflection. One particular Midrash concerning Eve and the attributes of womanhood raises profound and challenging questions about the nature of creation, divine intention, and the portrayal of significant figures within the Jewish tradition. It poses a paradox: how could the Sages, who held in high esteem the Matriarchs and Miriam the Prophetess, articulate a narrative that seemingly undermines their sanctity and greatness? Furthermore, how do we reconcile the assertion within this Midrash that while G-d intended womankind to embody specific traits, this intention was not realized in the creation of Eve? This essay embarks on a journey to unravel these complexities, guided by the insights of Rabbi Yosef HaLevi (Divrei Yosef, Ki Setzei, pp. 153ff), who offers a compelling interpretation that sheds light on the intricate interplay between divine will, human character, and the purpose of creation.
To begin with, we must consider the nature of the attributes associated with Eve and, by extension, all women. Rabbi HaLevi presents a critical understanding of human characteristics, positing that every trait possesses the inherent potential for both constructive and destructive expression. This duality is a cornerstone of the human experience, suggesting that traits are not intrinsically good or evil but rather serve different purposes depending on how they are utilized. The dichotomy of the yetzer hatov (the good inclination) and yetzer hara (the evil inclination) further underscores this notion. Each inclination, while predisposed towards particular outcomes, serves a role in the larger framework of human behavior and moral choice.
In the context of Eve’s creation, Rabbi HaLevi elucidates that God aimed to imbue womankind with a spectrum of positive attributes essential for her mission. The Midrash delineates traits such as curiosity, attentiveness, communicative ability, and energetic action. These characteristics, when harnessed appropriately, become powerful assets. A woman endowed with such traits can cultivate an acute awareness of her surroundings, enabling her to respond to the needs of those around her. For instance, her curiosity may drive her to seek knowledge and understanding, while her communicative skills allow her to share wisdom and offer comfort to those in distress. Furthermore, the energy she possesses can empower her to navigate her responsibilities with agility, making her a force for good within her community.
However, the potential for these traits to be misapplied is equally significant. Curiosity, when unchecked, can spiral into prying into others’ affairs, leading to breaches of trust and respect. An acute awareness of her surroundings can morph into invasive eavesdropping, undermining the very relationships she seeks to nurture. Excessive communication, while a tool for connection, can also inflict harm through gossip or divisive speech. Moreover, unrestrained energy may propel her into situations that are inappropriate or dangerous, ultimately detracting from her intended mission.
Rabbi HaLevi emphasizes that had Eve been created from a source devoid of restraint, there would be no intrinsic mechanism to moderate these tendencies. This understanding underscores a critical aspect of divine design: the necessity for balance and control. By choosing to create Eve from the “place of modesty,” G-d ensured that a guiding principle would accompany the inherent traits of womankind. Modesty, in this context, transcends mere decorum; it embodies a core value that fosters humility, respect, and sensitivity. When combined with the aforementioned traits, modesty channels them into their appropriate expressions. For instance, curiosity paired with modesty transforms into a thoughtful inquiry that respects others’ boundaries, while attentiveness becomes a compassionate awareness that seeks to uplift rather than intrude.
The Midrash’s assertion that G-d’s intention to suppress certain womanly traits “did not accomplish anything” invites us to probe deeper into the nature of divine intention and human agency. Rather than suggesting a failure on G-d’s part, this statement reveals a profound theological insight: G-d’s design was never intended to eradicate these traits but rather to ensure they serve noble ends. In this light, the traits that could lead to mischief are not inherently negative; rather, they exist as potentialities that can be harnessed for the service of G-d and the betterment of the community.
Thus, the narrative of Eve becomes a powerful metaphor for the broader experience of womanhood within Judaism. It emphasizes the importance of channeling inherent traits toward constructive purposes, recognizing that the potential for greatness resides in every individual. The Midrash ultimately champions the notion that the mission of creating a woman capable of embodying both strength and virtue has been realized. Each woman stands as a testament to the enduring legacy of Eve—a legacy characterized not by the absence of certain traits but by the meaningful and purposeful application of all that G-d intended for womankind.
In conclusion, the Midrash concerning Eve offers a rich tapestry of insights that challenge us to reconsider our understanding of femininity within the Jewish tradition. It implores us to recognize the complexities of human nature and the divine intentions that shape our existence. By framing Eve’s creation within the context of modesty and the duality of human traits, Rabbi HaLevi reaffirms the significance of these attributes, positing that the divine mission to create a woman capable of embodying both strength and virtue has indeed been accomplished. This Midrash serves not only as a reflection on the nature of womanhood but also as an invitation to all individuals to embrace their potential, harness their traits, and contribute positively to the world around them, fulfilling the divine purpose embedded within each of us. In doing so, we honor the legacy of Eve and the myriad women who have come after her, each embodying the values of kindness, strength, and noble purpose, thus exemplifying the true essence of womanhood.