Happy Passover from the Eimatai Family.
For interesting passover reading, check out the YU Pesach To Go Torah Packets.
Happy Passover from the Eimatai Family.
For interesting passover reading, check out the YU Pesach To Go Torah Packets.
This list was adapted from Rabbi Alexander Seinfeld for the popular book “The Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur Survival Kit” by Rabbi Shimon Apisdorf.
Print it out, and you might use the next few days including Yom Kippur as an opportunity to learn more about yourself, and create a vision and a plan for the year to come.
1. When do I most feel that my life is meaningful?
2. How often do I express my feelings to those who mean the most to me?
3. Are there any ideals I would be willing to die for?
4. If I could live my life over, what would I change?
5. What would bring me more happiness than anything else in the world?
6. What are my three most significant achievements since last Rosh Hashana?
7. What are my the biggest mistakes since last Rosh Hashana?
8. What project or goal, if left undone, will I most regret next Rosh Hashana?
9. If I knew I couldn’t fail, what would I undertake to accomplish in life?
10. What are my three major goals in life?
11. What practical steps can I take I in the next two months toward these goals?
12. What is the most important decision I need to make this year?
13. What important decision did I avoid making last year?
14. What did I do last year that gave me the strongest feeling of self-respect?
15. When do I feel most spiritual?
16. What kind of person do I want to be one year from now?
17. What kind of person do I want to be five years from now?
18. What are the most important relationships in my life?
19. Over the last year, did those become closer and deeper or was there a sense of stagnation and drifting?
20. What can I do to nurture those relationships this year?
21. If I could change only one thing about myself, what would it be?
22. If I could change only one thing about my spiritual life, what would it be?
Parashat Netzavim opens with Moshe gathering the entire Jewish Nation in front of him. The Torah elaborates to explain that he brought the heads, the elders, the officers, all the men, the women, the children, the converts, the woodcutters and the water drawers.
Why did all of these people have to be at this meeting? And if this was the usual crowd for Moshe’s speeches, why did the Torah feel the need to mention each of these distinct groups?
The message Moshe was trying to convey was that of Kol Yisrael Areivim Ze L’Ze, that all Jews are equally responsible for the actions of other Jews. He explains that this is a commandment of the generations – all Jews are to be included in this accountability.
He says we know that we have a history of sinning and idolatry, and that we should be prepared to go down that path again. In order to avoid falling into that pit, the Jewish people have to keep an eye on one-another in order to make sure it doesn’t happen.
Does this only apply to idol worship? Isn’t there a Gemara that tells us about how the Great Sanhedrin killed the Evil inclination for idolatry? If so, it wouldn’t seem like this concept of Areivut would be relevant to us anymore?
We know the words of the Torah are forever, and the Torah must have been using idolatry as an example.
The Torah mentions how the Jewish people have to watch over the men women and children, it has other people to mention as well. What’s the deal with the woodcutters and water drawers? Who were these people?
These were the non-Jewish workers who accompanied the Jewish people and did the most physically demanding jobs. They were committed to following the Jewish people because they provided them with sustenance, and were a good and merciful people.
We are commanded to be conscious of everything and everyone around us. God requires the Jewish people to look out for Jews and non-Jews alike. We have to be helping those who are the most needy and most unable to help themselves.
The lesson Moshe leaves us with in his last days is one of Social Justice, Charity, and Good Will.
Trumot and Ma’asrot were instituted by God, requiring every farmer to set aside a certain percentage of his/her crop. This food was then provided to the Kohanim, Levi’im, the poor, widows, and orphans. In a way, it was an early form of the welfare system, and the supporting of communal service professionals. Like with taxes, rich farmers contribute more, and the poorer farmers contribute less.
In Ki Tavo, however, the Torah introduces the topic of bikkurim. Oddly, this “tax” is different from the others in a unique way. There is no specific amount of produce outline. There is no percentage, and seemingly, a person who owns a hundred orchards can bring the same as someone who has one tree. You simply have to bring some of your first fruits.
What’s going on? Why are we bringing these fruits if not to give them to those that are needy? Why does everyone bring the same amount regardless of financial standings?
Yes it’s true that we as Jews have a responsibility to our entire community, but we also need to recognize where everything comes from. No matter how rich or poor, no matter how strong or weak, everything we have comes from God. Regardless of who a person is, there is an equal obligation to recognize the source of all blessing.
God required that each person bring the first of their fruits to emphasize that the beginning – the source – of our earnings is from him. Only after that does God ask man to begin donating his produce to the poor and the needy. At this point it is beyond recognizing that God gives us all sustenance, but realizing that there are strategies to increase that sustenance. We quickly learn that the more that we give away as charity, the more we receive as income.
One of the most troubling portions of the Torah appears in this week’s parasha. The story of a wayward and rebellious son is presented, and the solution provided by the Torah is to kill the child. How is it possible for the Jewish community, a moral and compassionate people, to completely give up on one of its children? Is killing a child really the kind of action we consider a mitzvah? Mustn’t there be a treatment even for the worst of the worst?
Perhaps a more careful reading will result in a more accurate and reasonable understanding.
Before any deep analysis begins, it must be said that the entire situation is a little hard to fathom. First of all, there has to be a mother and father so challenged by their child that they would rather have him die than try raising him anymore. Thankfully, this is not something that happens regularly in our community – but is a problem not to be ignored in America and around the world.
After that, the child is to be brought to the elders of the community who are told about the situation of the parents who feel their child must be terminated. It now becomes the responsibility of the entire community to care for this child. Be it finding a foster home or providing family counseling, the elders are required to intervene. Only when the entire community gives up as well are they permitted to kill the child.
And how is the killing supposed to occur? The child is to be brought to the center of town and stoned. More specifically than that, it is to be done in such a way that all of Bnei Yisrael hears about it and fears it.
What’s the value of this last requirement? Are they supposed to fear that their own children will become a ben sorer u’moreh? Maybe. But there seems to be a better answer.
Bnei Yisrael is meant to fear the process itself. If society has deteriorated to the point that parents are willing to kill their child, and the rest of the community refuses to step in, that is something to fear. It isn’t a mitzvah to kill a wayward child. It’s a mitzvah that if we fail to educate and incubate our children, and the breakdown of communal support is at its max, the entire Jewish people need to be informed in an intense way. A warning siren must be sounded.
It is incomprehensible for the Torah to tell us to give up on a child. As the popular saying goes, it takes a village to raise a child, and it truly is the responsibility of everyone to support education and protect our children. The lesson of this week’s parasha is to follow the progress of our community’s evolution, and not to allow it to spiral out of control.
Every leader, even Moshe, comes across situations that leave them at a loss for words. Many of the times when Bnei Yisrael rebelled, Moshe went to God to find out what he should do. When daughters of slofchod inquired as to their inheritance rights, Moshe wasn’t sure what to respond – he had to consult with God. But what are the rest of us who don’t have direct lines to God supposed to do?
In this week’s parasha, Moshe explains what future leaders should do when the law isn’t quite clear, and justice is difficult to determine.
Moshe states that you should “come to the Kohanim, Levi’im, and the Judge in those days, and inquire; they will tell you the judgment.” (Deut 17:9)
The Ramban explains the reason we needed to have a process for determining a ruling. If there were no system to resolve disputes in Torah interpretation, there would be different groups of Jews who practiced different religions all called Judaism. To prevent this, the Great Sanhedrin was given ultimate authority over even the greatest of scholars.
But there’s a line in the verse that seems superfluous. Why did Moshe write that you should “go to the judge in those days”? What other judge would you go if not the one alive at the time?
Rashi answers that even if the “Judge in those days” isn’t as smart as the ones who came before him, you must heed this one, for he is all you have. We are expected to trust that God gave us our own leaders to address the needs of our generation.
We must find the balance between the need for consistency of practice, and an evolving Jewish Law to fit each generation. All too often, Jewish groups fall to the extreme either by modeling every aspect of their lives after centuries old practices, or rejecting traditionalism in exchange for every Modern desire.
It is our charge to find the appropriate “Golden Median” and create a vibrant and traditionally rooted society.