Congregation Kneseth Israel in Annapolis, Maryland
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Parshat Ki Tavo

9/16/2022

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Parshat Ki Tavo famously deals with the combined themes of blessings and curses. Throughout the portion, the timeless balance of the two is expressed in a variety of ways. The opening chapter elucidates the earlier commandment from Shemot (Exodus) to bring the first fruits to the Beit Hamikdash (Holy Temple), adding the requirement to bring the tithe according to a three-year cycle. Curiously, the ritual also contains a symbolic retelling of the Exodus story in the form of a declaration, as well as a parallel formula attesting to the fact that the tithe had been correctly separated and donated. By recounting the story of our deliverance from Egypt, the Torah acknowledges the two opposites embodied in the story: the cruelty of oppression vs. the blessing of freedom.

With this as an introduction, Chapter 27 describes the dramatic ritual which will be performed once Israel reaches the Promised Land. With six tribes gathered on Mt. Grizim, the other six on Mt. Eival, with the Kohanim (priests) and Levi’im (Levites) in the valley between the two, the Kohanim and Levi’im will pronounce a series of twelve curses for specific sins to which the nation will respond, “Amen!” Chazal (our blessed sages) suggest that the sins included on the list are transgressions which are likely to be committed in secret, or via a sense of entitlement by someone whose position leads them to believe they are above the law. Rashi holds that each one of the 12 was intoned twice; once in the form of a blessing directed at Mt. Grizim, then repeated as a curse in the direction of Mt. Eival.   

As if this dramatic demonstration of blessings vs. curses wasn’t clear enough, Moshe then begins the Tochacha, or reproof, restating and elucidating the version given previously in Vayikra (Leviticus) 26. The text is no holds barred; both the blessings and the curses go over the top. After effusive promises as to the abundant good which will occur if Israel sticks with their mitzva mission, the text spends 54 verses describing what will happen if we do not, in stark and harrowing detail, far more than the previous version. It appears that Moses and the Torah are setting up the brachot (blessings) and klalot (curses) as a clearly binary choice—good vs. bad with the clear implication that we should try and tip our personal scales in the direction of the good. 

But… since when is any choice between polar opposites quite that cut and dry? I’m certain that the average Ukrainian draftee would never have considered taking a life until Russia forced the issue by not discriminating between soldier and civilian. We clearly have a mandate to perform mitzvot; what happens if an individual is unable to do so due to personal circumstances, lack of skill or knowledge, or lack of opportunity? The last of the litany of 12 sins enumerated on the two mountains is, “Accursed be the one who will not uphold the words of this Torah to perform them (Deuteronomy 27:26).” That covers a lot of ground, doesn’t it? I can name a few mitzvot that most of us could not observe in modernity even if we wanted to. Does that make us automatically subject to the curses? 

I’d like to propose another way to look at the brachot and klalot. Blessing is the absence of curse, and curse is the absence of blessing. In the ongoing, dynamic relationship between the two, the control mechanism is the Torah, as we live it. In reference to 27:26, Ramban wrote that the sin is not a failure to observe the entire Torah; the transgression is failing to accept the overarching validity of the Torah as a whole. That suggests that state of mind and kavannah, intention, are the most important aspects of the blessing/curse continuum. This is not to say that performing as many mitzvot as possible isn’t important; it’s vital. The normal yin and yang of life, however, provides what can be an ongoing inspiration or an ongoing distraction. Our daily, weekly, monthly, and annual goals should not be focused on the maintenance of the bracha/klala balance. Doing so tends to commoditize the values of the opposites; we all have a tendency, even in the best of circumstances, to laud the good (as we see it) and vilify what we perceive as its opposite. Instead of turning our attention from side to side, our challenge should be to constantly look upward, to G-d, through the wisdom and inspiration of the Torah.

Consider this: In order for it to rain, moisture must first evaporate from the surface of the earth to form clouds. Only then can the droplets condense and fall back to the ground. If we are able to maintain our focus on our Heavenly Parent, our efforts will surely be rewarded by the Divine One with that goodness returning to earth, providing nourishment to all of humanity. 

Regardless of which mountain you’re standing on.


Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Ki Teitzei

9/8/2022

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Parshat Ki Teitzei, the 49th parsha of the Torah, brings with it a special distinction: it contains the greatest number of mitzvot (commandments) of any parsha in the Torah, breaking the previous record by a solid 11. This daunting avalanche of legislation covers a lot of ground; containing precepts of morality, financial and property procedures, domestic relations, kindness to animals, levirate marriage, and the challenging command to utterly destroy Amalek, to name just a few. Some of these mitzvot are restatements or clarifications of earlier commandments. For example, the commandment to wear tzitzit, fringes, on our garments is quickly recounted here, but the Amalek story gets additional context which the previous version in Exodus did not. 

Others of Ki Teitzei’s mitzvot delve into new subjects—some of them seeming incredibly specific and, well, esoteric. We learn that when building a house, one must put a safety fence around the roof to prevent injury or death if someone should fall off. Wearing clothing with an admixture of fibers (shatnez) is forbidden. A person who is sentenced for a capital crime must be buried by nightfall following his execution. If one finds a lost animal, he must not avoid it, but rather, he’s required to bring it home and safeguard it until being able to return it. Conversely, if one has taken a pledge from their fellow in exchange for a loan, they are forbidden to enter the borrower’s house to retrieve it—they must remain outside. We are required to provide sanctuary for the escaped slave of our adversary who seeks asylum at a time of war. Forgotten or accidentally dropped produce, olives, or grain must be left for the destitute. One may not return to collect what has fallen. Mismatched animals may not be yoked together, and eggs cannot be taken from a nest while the mother bird is present. 

Any one of these mitzvot, taken individually, makes sense. Taken in groups or sections, one can often see a thematic or symbolic through-line connecting these often tersely worded commandments (we’ll be discussing that on Shabbos morning!). While the logic and wisdom of these mitzvot is fairly self-evident (or can be revealed upon reflection), there are many of them which leave us scratching our heads wondering, “where did that come from?” Tzitzit? Shatnez? Removing a shoe and spitting on the ground to avoid marrying your sister-in-law?

The very fact that these seem to be incredibly niche commandments and that some of them read as somewhat redundant (in theme, anyway) is precisely the point. The mitzvot of Ki Teitzei teach us that there is no act, no situation, no time or place, where the morality, ethics, wisdom, and protection of the Torah cannot be interjected. By extension, of course, we are thus able to factor G-d into the equation, even in the most esoteric of situations. If the values of Torah and the presence of Hashem are omnipresent even in the narrowest recesses of our lives and daily experiences, that makes the big stuff be a significantly shorter leap. 

A few weeks ago, we read the Shema. As many of you know, in the Torah scroll (and nowadays in most siddurim), the third and the last letters of the verse are enlarged. The Ayin and the Dalet spell “Eid,” or witness, attesting to the fact that when we recite Shema, we are the witnesses to G-d’s sovereignty and singularity in the universe. Here in Ki Teitzei, the letters take on an additional meaning. The gematria (numerological value) of Ayin-Dalet is 74, the same as the number of mitzvot in our parsha. We can be the ”eidim” to the presence and oneness of G-d. But by bringing the Divine presence into even the most subtle of situations, we can ourselves become the instruments of doing holy work as G-d’s partner, in everything we do.
Shabbat Shalom!


Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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Shoftim

9/2/2022

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Parshat Shoftim opens with the famous passage establishing the judiciary and law enforcement structure of the nation. “Judges and officers shall you appoint…and they shall judge the people with righteous judgement (16:18).” This initial exhortation is followed by the mandate to avoid favoritism, influence, or bribery in legal proceedings, and it is concluded (16:20) with the famous quotation, “Justice, justice shall you pursue.” 

In establishing these important legal/religious institutions, the Torah recognizes that justice is rarely black and white. The grey area is built into the system. Judges will interpret the law and the officers will enforce it. Sounds simple enough, but we know that’s not the case. Rashi teaches that merely appointing people to these positions is only going halfway. The officials who are given these weighty responsibilities must be worthy in all ways. To this day, we often see and experience what happens when the judiciary is subject to political or popular influence, or when those charged with the enforcement of the law are forced to make snap decisions in the heat of the moment which, given their perception of circumstances, training, and biases (both positive and negative) can either have compassionate and successful outcomes, or end tragically. Hence the elegance of the concluding verse. We are told to pursue justice, not enforce, mandate, or dictate it. The mandate being presented here is the active pursuit of honesty, equity, fairness, and truth in our courts. The pursuit of a goal which we all must accept is often elusive should be equally shared by those who make the laws, and those who enforce them. We often experience a rush to judgement. The first three verses of our parsha teach us that the real mitzva is rushing to justice, true justice, in judgement. 

Then the Torah ups the ante. Verses 21 and 22 prohibit the placement of idolatrous iconography (trees or pillars) alongside an altar to G-d. Despite the fact that the Patriarchs often erected such monuments, the location of such symbols are prohibited multiple places in the Torah, and their destruction is mandated. Ramban (Nachmanides) suggests here that such grand constructions were intended to attract idol worshipers to their temples. Why, then, are these verses juxtaposed to the ones which came before? To keep us from developing an edifice complex. The aesthetics of the building, especially if they represent practices and values not our own, are irrelevant and may even be misleading. What truly matters is what happens inside. What good is a synagogue or any other house of worship, whether it’s a tent, trailer, or magnificent building, if what happens inside doesn’t inspire holiness and bring the worshiper closer to the Divine? Similarly, what good is a court if the proceedings it houses are not in the active, ongoing pursuit of honest justice? Of the many lessons of parshat Shoftim, this first one is that our legal system should not be dedicated to the unwavering pursuit of just any verdict. Rather, we should be dedicated to the unadulterated quest for truth, honesty, and fairness. 

The Spanish playwright, author, and poet Lope de Vega (1562-1635) is often credited with penning the aphorism that all that was necessary for theater were “two boards and a passion.” Perhaps the opening of Shoftim teaches that we can even dispense with the boards. What’s important is the justice which we must pursue. Passionately.

Shabbat Shalom, and Chodesh Tov; a good month!


Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen
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