A D’var Torah by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
“Choose life,” the Torah tells us in Nitsavim, “if you and your offspring would live – by loving the Lord your God, heeding His commands, and holding fast to him For thereby you shall have life and shall long endure upon the soil that the Lord swore to your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to them (Deut.30:19–20).” These verses are with me always, and they have been more deeply implanted in my heart and soul each time I visited Israel.
It was July, 1989, before the first intifada had begun. I was walking through the Shiloah underground water tunnel at the City of David, Jerusalem (constructed by King Hezekiah to link the Gihon Spring with the pool of Siloan, 700 BCE). The tunnel was still open then, before it became too dangerous for Israeli authorities to allow tourists to venture through this narrow, historic passage. Our guided group walked in darkness over slippery stones in almost knee deep water to get to the other side. Only a single candle, protected by my hand so that it wouldn’t blow out, lit my way. And then, midway, the passage widened to reveal the meeting place where an inscription in rock was once inscribed in the ceiling. Even though the ancient rock is now in a museum, my skin tingled then with the appreciation of what was once there, and with the knowledge that, as Jews, we must never forsake the Covenant, nor to strive for peace.
Soon after we reached the other side, I was inspired by this exhilarating experience to write the following poem. Today, as Selichot approaches, I choose life in anticipation of the peace and joy that might be – one day — on both sides of the tunnel. Choose life.
DESTINATION
A slim, green candle,
purchased from a village waif,
held low against the draught,
lit my way through
this winding, cool, wetted
chasm where once,
deep beneath the ancient stones,
inscribed in rock, a
joyful, dripping message
recorded the meeting of
men, toiling to touch,
centuries past. Clear spring
waters flowed as they fused.
I niched my candle
in the rock; its light
still grows and burns
inside me, always.
You have shown me
your wineglass,
blessed city that wishes
the world what it might be.
O Jerusalem, for me
you plant new vineyards
in the cloudless sky.
Although what I have been describing here happened long ago, and I am in my eighties now, I am heartened – and excited – by the statement in Va’yalech – it’s a comvined portion this week — that Moses was a still a vigorous 120 years old — “with eyes undimmed and with vigor unabated” (Deut. 34:7) before he passed on the leadership to Joshua. It was time for a new generation in the land. And for that new generation, in turn, to explain the Covenant to their children. “Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe faithfully all the terms of this teaching. For this is not a trifling thing for you; it is your very life: through it you shall long endure on the land you are to possess upon crossing the Jordan” (Deut. 32:46-47.)
As for me, I am tickled pink by the fact that God also chose to create a beautiful poem at this time of entering the Land, and that Moses wrote it down. Today we call it “The Song of Moses,” which appears in the next Torah portion, “Ha’azinu..”
©️Corinne Copnick, Los Angeles, 2015. All rights reserved.
A D’var Torah: by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
“Blessed shall you be in your comings and blessed shall you be in your goings” (Deut. 28:6)
Ki Tavo, which means “when you come to,” referring to the Holy Land (and also, according to Talmudic lore, to when you enter the world without sin, in the hope that you may leave it the same way) [1] is often called the “Blessings and Curses” chapter.
Personally, I have experienced many blessings. For one thing, I have a loving family. Secondly, I live in sunny California, something that can only be appreciated fully by someone who has spent most of her life in a wintry climate. You have to admit, though, that this state is an uncommonly beautiful and diverse –both geographically and humanly — part of America. Thirdly, I have been able to visit Israel twice and look forward to the next time. Yes, I am saying it out loud.
“Blessings and curses were closely bound to a belief in the power of speech,” in a way that was almost magical, writes Rabbi Gunther Plaut in The Torah: A Modern Commentary [2]. In fact, when this parasha is read aloud in the synagogue, the reciters lower their voices to a whisper when it comes to the curses.
Bar/Bat Mitzvah kids groan when they have to learn this portion for their Jewish coming-of-age ceremony. Since the list of curses are four times the length of the blessings, many wise rabbis simply give these young people the “blessings” part to absorb.
But sometimes curses can turn into blessings. When the last stock market crash occurred, cutting my hard-earned, mutual fund savings in half at a time in my life when I could not replace what was lost, I was distraught. Then I decided that the best investment was in myself: I enrolled in rabbinic school, and my rabbinic education and eventual ordination has turned out to be a wondrous, life-changing blessing, one that I can hopefully transmit to other people.
Both “the blessings and the curses,” Richard Elliott Friedman points out, “are there out of a realistic recognition of human psychology: rewards and punishments are effective tools of instruction from childhood and up. But the aim is higher: that humans should come to see that what is being put in their hands is ‘life’ and ‘good’ and love’ (Deut.30:15-16) [3]. There are indeed many blessings to come.
Towards the beginning of Ki Tavo is a summary of all the blessings that the Creator has already given to the Israelites, beginning with their liberation from Egypt. You may recognize this time-honored portion (don’t skip it!) from the Passover Haggadah:
“My father was a fugitive Aramaean [4]. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and sojourned there, but there he became a great and populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. We cried to the Lord, the God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. The Lord freed us from Egypt with a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and awesome power, and by signs and portents. He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey” (Deut: 26:5-9).
Isn’t it amazing how quickly we forget good things that were done for us in the past and get into the “what-have-you-done-for-me-lately” mode? So at least twice a year, when we read Ki Tavo in the approach to Rosh HaShanah, and again in the Spring in the month of Nisan, we remember to be grateful for past gifts.
The Haftarah (Isaiah 60:1-22) that accompanies this Torah portion, framed in the imagery of light and of worldly splendor, is itself a gift to the human spirit. It is the sixth of seven weekly haftarot of consolation recited weekly to precede Rosh HaShana after the devastation of Tisha B’Av. Distinguished commentator Michael Fishbane discusses the Haftarah’s proclamation of the new light that shines on Jerusalem because God’s presence is now there. The Haftarah also predicts the ingathering of the exiles to Zion, of a glory that transcends nature, and of the peace and victory that will ensue [4].
Given the devastation from natural causes during the past weeks in the world we live in today, this Haftarah is especially uplifting this Shabbat, with its poetic message of redemption. It is one of the most beautiful of all the Haftarahs:
“Arise [kumi], shine [ori] for your light has dawned;
The Presence of the Lord has shone upon you!” (Isaiah 60:1)….
“And nations shall walk by your light” (Isaiah 60:3).
Could we ask for anything more? Shabbat shalom!
[1] Cited in Gunther Plaut, Ed.,“Gleanings, “ The Torah: A Modern Commentary, Revised edition (New York: Union for Reform Judaism),1366.
[2] Ibid., 1363
[3] Commentary on the Torah, with a new English trans. (New York: HarperCollins, 2003),648.
[4] “Fugitive” is alternatively translated as “wandering.” According to Plaut, the Aramean could refer to Abraham (not a fugitive) or Jacob (not an Aramean), but was possibly Laban, who tried to undo Jacob (representing the father in this passage), Ibid., 1363.
However, more plausibly in my view, the revered 16th century rabbi, Sforno, identifies Jacob as the wandering Aramean because for a time “he was a wanderer in Aram without a permanent home and therefore not prepared to establish a nation fit to inherit a land” (Sforno: Commentary on the Torah, eds. Rabbis Nosson Scherman and Meir Zlotowitz, trans., notes Rabbi Raphael Pelcovitz (N.Y.: Mesorah Publications, 1993) 837.
[5] Michael Fishbane. The JPS Bible Commentary: Haftarot (Philadelphia: JPS, 2002), 304-305.
A D’var Torah by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
“When you take the field against your enemies, and the Lord your God delivers them into your power, and you take some of them captive, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman and you desire her and would take her to wife, you shall bring her into your house, and she shall trim her hair, pare her nails, and discard her captive’s garb. She shall spend a month’s time in your house lamenting her father and mother; after that you may come to her and possess her, and she shall be your wife” (Deut. 21:10- 13 ).
If you are a rabbi intending to write a concise D’var Torah, it is certainly an exploratory journey to sort through through the myriad of Judaic laws and ethical considerations that make up Ki Tetsei (meaning “when you take”). Then, when you take the centuries of rabbinic and midrashic commentary into account as well, there is enough legal content, sensitivity, and human understanding – not to mention rationality — in this powerful parasha for a lifetime of study.
Finally, I settled on the opening verses of the parasha. What I had in mind was the relative kindness – in that time and place – with which Jewish law mandates a captive woman must be treated by soldiers in time of war. Especially if she is beautiful and evokes a soldier’s sexual desire. Rape is not condoned in the Torah, not on the battlefield, not anywhere (as long as the woman cries out for help).
Richard Elliott Friedman explains this important dictum in the notes to his vibrant, plain-spoken Commentary on the Torah [1] “Contrary to one of the most common practices of war, the Israelite soldier is not permitted to rape her [the captured woman]. He may take her as a wife. But even then he must give her time to mourn the loss of her family.” The month allowed for grieving is is also intended as a period of reflection, a time to reject the gods of her culture and to accept the God of Israel, something she must do in order to marry a Jewish man. It is additionally a time of purification – in accordance with Jewish mourning rites, she must cut her hair and pare her nails — that is sensitive both to Jewish law and to the emotional needs of the woman concerned. Given the tenor of the times, it bespeaks a human generosity on the part of the man.
I agree with Friedman’s interpretation of this passage. In our modern, technological society, many people would, I believe. Yet in this same century, 200 schoolgirls in Nigeria were kidnapped by Boko Haram militants, and women have been gang-raped in India, Mexico, and too many other countries, including our own. Smugglers entice women from poor, “undeveloped” countries to the U.S.A. with false promises of employment, only to force them into prostitution. That is why this Torah portion remains very relevant today.
Surprisingly, however, the time-honored medieval rabbis [2]– a whole bunch of them (Rashi, Nahmanides, Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, Abarbanel, Gersonides, Hizkuni), almost uniformly look at this granting of a mourning period with a patriarchal, even misogynistic, perspective quite different from Friedman’s. Or mine. While the mourning period allowed the woman is undeniably humane, they point out that the soldiers likely would not have killed her mother (thus she would have at least some family left!), and maybe her father fled the battlefield. Furthermore, this 30-day period is intended to give the desire-stricken soldier a cooling-off period.
The medieval rabbis do a real hatchet job on the captured woman! They point out that the surrounding pagan cultures deliberately sent their women out in revealing dress in order to entice the Israelite soldiers. So taking off her captive’s garb meant that this woman would be changing into more modest dress. In addition, they question whether she “does” her nails (“yields her crop”) for mourning purposes. They claim that the Hebrew verb used suggests that she “grows” them long so that her claw-like nails and shorn head look distasteful in the soldier’s eyes. It is a very different perspective, indeed. At any rate, only after this 30-day period can this soldier have sexual relations with the captured woman and make her his wife.
At the same time, the Torah portion itself realistically recognizes that sexual desire can be fickle: “Then, should you no longer want her, you must release her outright. You must not sell her for money; since you had your will of her, you must not enslave her” (Deut. 21: -14). In other words, if, having now found the once beautiful captive distasteful, the soldier rejects the captured woman as his wife, Ki Tetze warns that, since he has degraded her, he cannot treat her as a slave or sell her to someone else. He must let her go free. Friedman notes that here “[t]he Torah text uses the same verb as in the law of divorce” (Deut: 24:1). [3]
As a Jewish people once enslaved by the Egyptians – and who celebrate our release every year – we are taught what slavery does to the human spirit. We are expected to understand the harm done to the psyche by such degradation and humiliation. “The [Hebrew] words for degrading her and for letting her go are the same words that are used to describe the Egyptians’ degrading of Israel and then letting Israel go (Exod. 1:11-12; 5:1),” Friedman points out [4].
As a people, we have also learned in every generation to have compassion for others, that compassion is the counterpart to justice. As Jews, we are expected to act when injustice is done – not just to sit around tut-tutting about how terrible it is when bad things happen. There are still slaves, and still beautiful women forced to prostitute themselves in order to survive, in other parts of the world. Certainly it is something to think about – enslavement, justice, compassion, action — during the High Holy Days.
[1] Richard Elliott Friedman, Commentary on the Torah, with a New English Translation and the Hebrew Text (New York: Harper Collins, 2001), 629.
[2] All those listed above are quoted at length in “Deuteronomy,” The Commentators’ Bible: The Rubin JPS Miqura’ot Gedolot, ed., trans., and annotated by Michael Carasik (USA: Jewish Publication Society, 2015), 142-143.
[3] Friedman, 629.
[4] Ibid.
.
A D’var Torah by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
Amazing how an age-old Torah portion can apply so well to our contemporary world! Shoftim (which means “magistrates”) is a “Law and Order” portion in the best sense: the first thing the biblical Israelites are obliged to do in setting up their new society is to appoint magistrates and officials for all their tribes. At the same time, these officials are mandated to govern with justice. Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving you (16:20)
But first the officials have to organize themselves. If the people want to appoint a king because all the neighboring people have kings, they are free – but not obligated — to do so. While this king will serve as what we moderns call the “Executive Branch”, his power will not be absolute. Not by a longshot. Government will have three “crowns”: the Executive Branch, the Judiciary, and the Prophets (the religious branch, a congress of social and moral critics). Does this sound familiar? Yes, following the biblical pattern, the U.S. government is three-branched as well. Each branch serves as a check upon the other in order to have a balanced system.
Furthermore, the character of the king, the head of this government in biblical times, is defined at length. He must not be concerned with acquiring material possessions for himself (no traveling to Egypt to get the best horses!) nor acquire many wives “lest his heart go astray; nor shall he amass silver and gold to excess” (17::17). This king will not indulge in licentious behavior. Instead, he must keep a copy of the Torah beside him and study it daily in order to further develop and guide his moral and ethical sensibilities. With an awareness of the limits of his power under God, the king of Israel must be humble in nature.
This portrait of a Chief Executive may be idealistic (with his taste for many wives and possessions, King Solomon didn’t manage to fulfill these requirements – and he taxed the people too heavily), but It’s certainly a recipe for good government.
The people, too, are advised to comport themselves appropriately and not “imitate the abhorrent practices” of the surrounding nations. (18:9).
Furthermore, the judiciary must temper justice with compassion and with fairness towards both rich and poor. Status in society will not affect the outcome. This was a big statement for the Torah to make. Even though “justice for all” is a precept of American society as well, unfortunately status and riches still affect both treatment by law enforcement and verdicts rendered today: Can someone charged with an offence afford a good lawyer, or is that person relegated to the legal services of an overburdened public defender? Does race, color, and ingrained prejudice affect the verdict (and perhaps the severity of the charge)? If so, that’s not the way it’s supposed to be.
As for the priests, the third branch, they are freed from worrying about material possessions (which the populace will look after). Neither can they own land; rather, “the Lord is their portion (18:2). The people, too, are advised to comport themselves appropriately and not “imitate the abhorrent practices” of the surrounding nations. (18:9).
Hopefully, there will be peace – that is always the goal — but there is a sober assessment of how to comport oneself in the event of war. “Why do the prescriptions concerning warfare follow the rules of justice in the preceding chapter?” asks the medieval scholar, Rashi. “To teach that Israel will succeed in war only if it practices justice.” *
What I find so touching in this parasha are the words that the priests must say to the soldiers before every battle, an address still practiced in Israel today. Soldiers are not simply pawns in a chess game for the purposes of the State; they are human beings entitled to a taste of life before being sent, perhaps to face death, to protect their country. In Shoftim, first the priests are to counsel the troops not to fear because God will be with them, and then they are to address their very human concerns:
“Is there anyone who has built a new house but has not dedicated it? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another dedicate it. Is there anyone who has planted a vineyard but has never harvested it? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another harvest it. Is there anyone who has paid the bride price for a wife, but who has not yet married her? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another marry her (20:5-9)” **
Then the biblical priests turn to another concern: fear in the ranks, which is treated with compassion: “Is there anyone afraid and disheartened? Let him go back to his home, lest the courage of his comrades flag like his” (20:8). Only after these issues are addressed, do the military commanders encourage their troops to defend their new land.
Even after all this preparatory talk, there is an essential point to be made. Before engaging in battle, the commanders are obliged to offer the alternative of peace to their adversaries. They may launch an attack only if peaceful relations have been refused.
With the prospect of several thousand additional U.S. troops – our sons and daughters — soon to be called up to serve in Afghanistan, these biblical precepts are important to understand and remember. Situations change, wars and their devastating consequences come and go in history, but human nature is constant.
*Quoted by Rabbi Gunther Plaut in “Gleanings,” The Torah: A Modern Commentary, Revised Edition (New York: Union for Reform Judaism) 1314.
**With these concerns in mind, in the modern Israeli army, soldiers who have not yet had children, are encouraged to consign their frozen semen to a sperm bank.
D’var Torah by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
From what they see on the riverbank, they can also glimpse what the future might hold.
The central theme of this week’s Torah portion, Re’eh, which is Hebrew for “See,” is God’s gift to us: choice. In today’s political climate, freedom of choice is something we must be vigilant to safeguard. It was equally true in the Torah. This is the choice Moses presents in this parashah as he quotes God saying, “See, I have placed before you blessing and curse. Re’eh, anochi noten lifneichem hayom bracha oo klalah.”* These are the opening lines of the portion. The implication is for the Israelites to choose between alternative futures.
In the parasha itself, the word, “Re’eh,” is written in the imperative. But it means more than a literal command to “See! Look!” in the everyday, practical sense. It also implies that – as the Israelites stand on the heights of Moab, looking out over the Jordan River they will soon cross to take possession of the land of Canaan – they should believe the evidence of their own eyes.
They should also perceive much more than that. From what they see on the riverbank, they can also draw insight, understanding, a glimpse of what the future might hold. Re’eh is about deciding how you’re going to live and taking action to make that way of life possible. It is similar to another injunction later in Deuteronomy 30:15: “Re’eh, I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity.”
So what do the Israelites see? Visualize twin mountain peaks, Mount Gerizim in the south and Mount Ebal in the north, both in the same Ephraim mountain range. In those early biblical days, there was, of course, no television, no social media, no “You Tube’ to present a panoramic view to a large multitude; so instead the Torah presents the textual image of these very real mountains as symbols. Mount Gerizim is located near the biblical Shechem (Nablus in modern times), and it is lush, covered with greenery and fruits, a green zone one might say. The other peak, Mount Ebal, is bleak, steep, and arid. Nothing grows there. The Israelites are instructed to pronounce blessings on green Mount Gerizim and the reverse on bleak Mount Ebal. Traditionally Mount Ebal represents strict justice, severity. How’s that for symbolism? If you were an Israelite overlooking the Jordan River, which route would you choose?
However, the choice is not so easy. Sure, everyone would like to live in the green zone. But making the choice to live there involves choosing a way of life – permanently, for all your generations. The land across the river Jordan is to be sacred, a holy land, and the people who choose to live there, to opt for green Mount Gerizim, must choose to be a holy people, a nation of priests, in fact. That’s the catch. God is to be their only God, and they will have to live by special moral and ethical rules. We have already heard about most of these rules in Leviticus, but of course, Deuteronomy is a recap, a summary of the previous books of the Torah, a looking back. The rules are reiterated here before the people actually move into the land and make it their own. A good deal of what is mentioned anticipates what will actually happen in future years.
Reality check: The land of Canaan is not empty. It is already occupied by pagans who worship other gods and sacrifice their own children by burning them as offerings to their gods. They have disgusting sexual practices, abominable health habits, they treat animals cruelly. And ever since the Golden Calf incident, God is particularly touchy on this issue of idolatry. There are still Israelites who tuck little idols into the corners of their tents. It remained an issue even in later years.
Get rid of the pagans, God commands in the Torah. The land must be purified. Tear down their altars. Destroy their towns. Execute them. There is only one God of Israel.
To our modern ears, this sounds horrific, barbaric. It is important to remember that historically this did not happen. Whole towns were not destroyed because people who worshipped pagan gods lived there. In this parasha, God is using hyperbole intended to warn the Israelites: Evil practices and the people who practice them are to be routed out. The Israelites are exhorted not to be lured by the heathen practices of the Canaanites, nor to be seduced by false prophets who claim to perform supernatural acts, not even by their own relatives who may worship idols. The death penalty is prescribed by anyone who tries to entice others to idolatry.
And if anyone doubts that Jerusalem – “the site that the Lord will choose” – was intended to be a holy city for a holy people, they should read this Torah portion — as well as the haftarah in Isaiah describing the beauty of a Jerusalem set in precious stones, and assuring that the city will be restored to her former glory, and that peace will prevail. All ritual sacrifices would henceforth take place only in Jerusalem, that is, the centralization of ritual sacrifices that actually took place in the reigns of King Hezekiah and, especially, King Josiah, several centuries later. God is giving the Israelites a choice to transform society, to move forward with purpose.
So, with the Israelites still looking across the Jordan River at the land beyond, God says, “If you choose to follow my rules, you will be my chosen people.’’ To be one of these treasured people means that you will take upon yourselves the responsibility to live morally and make ethical choices. It’s not always easy. You can choose or not choose. The hardest part is making the decision. You can listen to what wise people say. But, in the end, it’s up to you.
* “Consequences “(klalah), a word adopted from neo-Syrian vassal treaties, is likely a better English translation for curse.