But now they’ve gone too far. This week, they published an account of a Jewish leader, righteous and decent but grieving over some family tragedies, who catches the eye of a courtesan at the crossroads and hires her services. When he unable to pay cash up front, the wench takes some of his property as a pledge and then disappears. But at the end of the story, the nobleman saves her from certain death by owning up to his moment of weakness.  Another sordid tale ostensibly with a moral message…

Wait, that wasn’t the Beacon – that was the Torah in Parshat Vayeishev and the episode of Yehuda and Tamar! And the light of the Messiah entered the world.

So what do we make of these stories? The media focused on its obsession – freedom of the press and censorship – and whether Modern Orthodoxy is too modern – when, to me, the real story was elsewhere. How do we discuss sensitive, delicate, even prurient matters? In fourth grade, we just skipped over the story of Yehuda and Tamar; that’s one approach. It doesn’t work well. How can you transmit values when the subject matter, or the application of those values, are taboo, and unmentionable? Granted, despite the anonymous author’s best efforts, the average commercial on television is more risqué and suggestive than this short story; and granted, I can see why the “Yeshiva” side of the YU ledger was offended.

But there is, unfortunately, a seamy corner of the Jewish world that we would do well not pretending that it does not exist. It exists – it exists because the culture is that decadent, and because young people looking for love, attention and respect often seek it in the wrong places and in the wrong activities – and they wind up without love or respect, although they do capture the attention, temporarily at least, of the exploiters and predators.

It exists in our colleges – whether YU or Stern and certainly in secular colleges – and it exists in the holy Yeshivos where only men learn, and where we presume, falsely, that they are shielded from the world’s tawdriness. They are, for the most part, but not entirely, human beings being human beings. It exists in our high schools – with young men and women pretending they are adults having real relationships, and even teachers, administrators, and Rebbeim acting inappropriately and sometimes criminally. It exists in the self-styled holiest neighborhoods of Lakewood and Borough Park, and it exists in the self-styled modern, sophisticated neighborhoods like Teaneck and the Five Towns. We usually are forced to deal with it when we hear of arrests for abuse and molestation – dozens in certain communities in recent years – and when we learn that some of our teens and young adults have lost all sense of boundaries and propriety. We ignore it at our peril.

We ignore it because we are uncomfortable talking about it. We would rather skip this story of Yehuda and Tamar.  We would rather believe that our children going off to high school and college are as pure and naïve and darling as they were at their Bar/Bat Mitzvot. We would rather that the Messiah descends from Heaven in a chariot than have him born as a result of this dissolute rendezvous.

The Torah conceals little about human life from us – and we are forced to reckon with Lot and his daughters, Yehuda and Tamar, Zimri and Cozbi, and later with King David and Bat Sheva and a host of other stories. I too was scandalized, until I actually saw the story – an effective if contrived way to raise a pressing social issue with a challenge at the beginning and a lesson at the end. “How Do I Begin To Explain This?,” the title, introduces the anticipation and the excitement – but the story ends with the ill-disguised indifference felt by the man towards his trophy-person and the self-loathing of the women – now forced to do the “walk of shame” for selling herself so cheaply, ‘a “stupid mistake.” As Rav Kahana said in the Gemara in a not-unrelated context: “this too is Torah and I have to learn it” (Berachot 62a).

Ultimately, the problem rests not in censorship or permissiveness, but in failures of education and parenting – a failure to transmit our values and to convey our way of grappling with desire and gratification. We have to overcome the fear of discussing those very issues that can be the most troublesome but in the long term the most spiritually rewarding. It is only the areas in which we struggle that true spiritual greatness emerges.

If it causes one woman to retain her dignity and say “no,” the article was worth it. If the discussions of the seamier side of Jewish life cause even one young victim of abuse to turn to his/her parents and then immediately to the police, then the discussions were worth it. And if we debate amongst ourselves the propriety of the Torah’s inclusion of the story of Yehuda and Tamar, then we will not only fail to understand how the moral greatness of Yehuda and the persistence of Tamar were indispensable for the destiny of Israel – we will also not  perceive how amid all the tumult and sadness and recriminations surrounding the event, “G-d was busy as well creating the light of the King Messiah” (Breisheet Rabba 85:1), that will soon illuminate all of mankind.

It is difficult to remember the last time that the United States was wracked with such dissension, discontent, protests, and economic hardship. From my vantage point, “Occupy Wall Street” has been primarily a source of comic relief – the participants, their complaints, their solutions, and their antics – except for the sporadic violence, and the loss of job and business in lower Manhattan caused by the unwillingness of sane people to traverse that area under siege. There are many different forces at play in these nationwide protests,
most without any clue as to how to improve their personal financial situations
or the national economy. Having occupied Wall Street, the occupiers do not seem to know what they want to do with it.

But there is discontent among the wealthy as well, who are being demonized for the most crass political purposes and who have lost much of their wealth in the last few years (from 2007 to 2009, there was a 40% drop in the number of millionaires filing federal tax returns, from 392,000 to 233,000), and among the middle class, who have seen their assets diminished, and found near-insurmountable obstacles to their pursuit of the American dream. Everyone is unhappy.
And the more government meddles in our lives, the worse and less free
our lives become. All this discontent is the fruit of the poisonous tree of
big, intrusive government trying to run every aspect of our lives – and failing
at all of it: telling us what we can eat, what we can drive, what types of
bulbs we can use, how much water the shower nozzle can dispense, how high our fences can be, how many miles per gallon our cars should provide, what types of medical procedures we should or should not have, etc. There are many who expect and want government to satisfy their every desire and care for their every need – to be given a job, a home, health care, retirement pay, and a host of other entitlements. I want none of that. I just want to be left alone.

America was founded on the premise of the right of the individual to
pursue happiness as he sees fit – as long as his pursuit does not encroach on
the rights of others. So a federal government should provide for the common
defense against external enemies, enforce contracts so the commercial system
remains viable, and build interstate roads and highways. Beyond that, I
struggle to find where a federal government is useful or effective, and I
resent that the fruit of my labor is confiscated to pay for useless, frivolous,
unneeded and unwarranted boondoggles. I just want to be left alone.

Consider how far we have traveled. In 1887, Texas was stricken by a
drought (just like this past year). Congress appropriated $10,000 to purchase
seed grain for the suffering farmers there. President Grover Cleveland (the
only president born in New Jersey) vetoed the bill, saying: “I can find no warrant for such an appropriation in the Constitution, and I do not believe that the power and duty of the general government ought to be extended to the relief of individual suffering which is in no manner properly related to the public service or benefit. … The friendliness and charity of our countrymen can always be relied upon to relieve their fellow-citizens in misfortune. Federal aid in such cases encourages the expectation of paternal care on the part of the government and weakens the sturdiness of our national character, while it prevents the indulgence among our people of that kindly sentiment and conduct which strengthens the bonds of a common brotherhood.”

“The lessons of paternalism ought to be unlearned and the better lesson
taught that while the people should patriotically and cheerfully support their
Government its functions do not include the support of the people.”

     Notwithstanding that those sentiments (and undoubtedly other reasons as
well) led to Cleveland’s defeat in 1888 – he was re-elected four years later –
those lessons of the dangers of “paternalism” need to be re-learned and
re-internalized. Part of America’s greatness in the 20^th century was
built on the labor of millions of immigrants – including more than two million
Jews – who arrived on these shores and looked not to government for a handout but to their relatives, neighbors, and co-religionists for temporary assistance until they could support themselves by the sweat of their brow. Hard work, self-sacrifice, material deprivation and personal responsibility were the norms of life. It was expected that people would succeed or fail on their own, and therefore everyone had an interest in succeeding. There was no governmental safety net, and the safety net that did exist for the elderly and infirm was usually provided by family and religious institutions.

The Constitution does not allow government to confiscate money from the productive and distribute it to the unproductive or the clueless – whether the clueless are reckless individuals or reckless corporations. But today, that is the primary function of government, and so 49% of Americans receive some form of government assistance and wayward, mismanaged corporations are bailed out to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars rather than allow the market to take its natural toll on unprofitable businesses. Blame Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt, and then almost every president since then, who have all realized that there are electoral victories to be obtained by handing out money to as many groups and individuals as is feasible. And, frankly, blame the citizenry as well, people who are being weaned on getting something for nothing, and letting others work and prosper and then thinking that it is fair and just that their work product be redistributed to them. It was Thomas Jefferson who wrote that democracy fails the moment the majority realizes that it can vote itself money out of the treasury. We have arrived at that moment, and the national character, accustomed to handouts and bailouts, has been concomitantly weakened to its current flaccid state of disgruntlement and self-pity.

The two visions of America – the free enterprise state that allows the individual free choice in pursuit of his happiness vs. the nanny state that is paternalistic, intrusive and demanding – can easily be discerned by the one defining difference: the former sees each person as an individual (created in the divine image) and the latter sees man as simply part of a collective whose rights are drawn from the fact that he is part of a group but do not inhere in him. America and the free world used to celebrate the role of the individual – encouraging it, fostering it – because no individual prospers without also benefiting others. No individual can become wealthy unless he makes a product or provides a service that others want at a price they can afford. So, everyone benefits. Now, it is one size fits all – like the housing in socialist societies that all looks the same, and like the clothing in old Communist China where everyone dressed the same. No individuality is tolerated. Rights are awarded to some individuals, and denied to others, because they belong to a particular group – the very premise of affirmative action, for example.

Similarly, these attitudes engender the populist complaints about income inequality – the rich are too rich, and the poor are too poor. Why does the income gap, which so exercises the Occupy World Street crowd and other anarchists, bother anyone? If everyone has – or can have – then why be troubled by the success of some?       Indeed, a study not long ago showed that people are happier if they are earning $25,000 and their neighbor $50,000 – than if the sums are doubled and they earn $50,000 and their neighbors earn $100,000. Why? Although the income gap has widened, they too are earning more money?     For only one reason, that greases the wheels of much of the discontent in America and across the globe today: jealousy. What a deadly mida! Envy ruins lives, leaves people dejected and despondent, and is the cause of wars and much suffering.

Envy is the very  antithesis of Succot. Rav Dessler writes famously that Succot reflects bitul hayesh, the nullification of the material. Has anyone ever walked into someone’s Succa and said: “This is beautiful – I am so jealous, I wish I had a Succa like this!” Of course not. And why not? Because it is gone in a week, and is therefore defined as a temporary dwelling. But that is the point –
everything in this world is temporary, so why be jealous? Why covet what
someone else has?

The Gemara Avoda Zara 3a-b states that in the future the nations of the world will be tested with the mitzvah of Succot. The nations are easily inflamed, and much of what they accomplish is triggered by jealousy. So G-d burns the sun
on them as if it is the height of summer – the sun, which to us appears to be
the most permanent fixture of the physical world. And they kick their Succot on
the way out, as if to say, the only reality is the material world, of
substance, and mergers and acquisitions – so why waste time and energy on
anything that is temporary and cannot stoke our competitive juices like the
Succa?

If that regression will happen in the future, as the Gemara says, the good news is that that future is already here. And it is fostered by a heavy-handed government that speaks of charity and generosity as disguises for outright theft. Trillions of dollars spent in a war on poverty has created more poverty – not less. The poverty rate has increased since the war on poverty began, as well as fostered a cycle of multi-generational welfare dependency and a surfeit of broken homes.
For Jews, we perceive the material as temporary and tangential to life, and
look to G-d as the only true source of our rights and values.     To us, life is blissful when, as in the time of King Shlomo, “Yehuda and Yisrael dwelled in security, each person beneath his vine and his fig tree”(I Melachim 5:5) – each person content, satisfied and comfortable with himself and his neighbors, free of the burdens of jealousy and greed.

It is hard for a thinking Jew to generate much sympathy for the “demonize the rich” populism, for a number of reasons, but especially because the Torah seems to like the rich (the Torah likes the poor too). It is one of the defining, oft-repeated themes of Avraham’s life – and maybe a great nisayon as well. The Torah sees fit to emphasize that Avraham does not only leave Charan with his wife and nephew, but also “with all the wealth they had amassed.” And he does well in Egypt – “laden, very heavy, with cattle, silver and gold,” Strange words – kaved me’od, not that he was wealthy, ashir, but kaved, heavy. Wealth can be a burden as well.

And Avraham rejects the gifts of the king of Sodom, so “you shouldn’t say, ‘I made Avraham rich.’” And the Torah underscores that both Yitzchak and Yaakov (and Moshe) were wealthy, all of which gave them credibility with their contemporaries. In the most far-reaching comment, Avraham is told that his descendants would be enslaved in a land not theirs for 400 years, “after which they will leave with great wealth.” But why is this important ? And why does the Torah speak of wealth of our ancestors again and again?

Avraham’s wealth was purposeful. It was designed to bring him respect from his peers, and enable him to better promote his divine message. He was completely focused on advancing Hashem’s agenda, and on realizing spiritual goals. Why should that be demonized? We need not – and should not – succumb to materialistic excess. It is unnecessary, beneath our dignity, and the result of environmental influences that we should strive to keep out of our lives. We know how to live – but we also know how to use our money to build Torah and shuls and yeshivot and mikvaot. We know how to help the indigent, and we know how to support Israel.

Wealth is a challenge but it need not be a curse, or somehow ignominious as today’s malcontents would want us to believe. Wealth is a “blessing from Hashem” (Mishlei 10:22), so it is to be used judiciously, wisely and productively. We don’t always succeed, but we do succeed much more than people tend to think. Wealth is therefore a great test, and our use of our bounty is usually a very keen indicator of our moral aspirations and the state of our character. Prioritizing Torah education and the performance of Mitzvot is obviously a more effective and rewarding use of our bounty than is the relentless pursuit of more stuff – houses, cars, fancy gadgets and clothing, and extravagant affairs.

That is why none of the complaints and antics of these American protesters resonate with me. They choose not to see the hard work, the sacrifices, the risks and even the re-distribution wrought by the wealthy consumer (a person who buys a private jet supports a number of people who built that private jet). All they see is mass consumption, all they see is materialistic excess – and they just want it for themselves, without having to work for it. They should learn the lesson of Succot, and we should strive to embody the values and vision of the Avot.

If we choose poorly, then wealth can corrupt us as well, and we can go down the path of Lot, Avraham’s neer-do-well nephew, who was literally destroyed by his worldly ambitions. But if we choose more wisely, then the legacy of the Avot is ours, and our example to the rest of society as to the divine values of personal
responsibility, individual morality, the appropriate utilization of resources
and generosity can be profound. It was for that reason that G-d chose Avraham,
and blessed his offspring with that eternal mandate to the nations of the
world.

“One who sees the Sotah in her degradation should take a vow of abstinence from wine.” But why? Perhaps the Sotah herself is the one who should lay off the booze, not the innocent onlooker.

Rav Moshe Zvi Neria, the great thinker and founder of Bnai Akiva, commented that “seeing” here is not an idle or neutral pursuit, but “seeing” in the sense of
understanding. What must be understood ?

The Torah exists in two different realms – the normal and the abnormal. In the conventional world, our lives are bounded by mitzvot and service of G-d. Each field of endeavor, each human activity, and each desire is moderated and sanctified. These commandments – most of them , in fact – regulate a normal life and straighten out our paths.

But there is another realm in which Torah exists as well – the abnormal, typified by the Sotah. She represents the collapse of the Jewish family; even if innocent of adultery, she is still guilty of seclusion. A person who sees these deviations must immediately take corrective measures, otherwise he runs the great risk of thinking that the abnormal is normal, that everyone is doing it, or that somehow he is missing out on all the fun.

It is hard to escape the tawdriness and degradation of the modern world. Each day brings new “celebrities” in this genre. One day it is John Edwards, whose despicability is reaching its inevitable denouement in a courtroom. Another, it is Anthony Weiner, whose contrition today seems on par with his haughtiness on all other days. (Strange: Republican Congressman Chris Lee (NY-26) did  something similar but less salacious and didn’t lie about it but still resigned almost immediately. Are the moral rules different for Democrats ?) Not long ago, it was Elliot Spitzer, and even more recently Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Arnold
Schwarzenegger, et al.

We are forced to endure what seems like an avalanche of decadence, and we delude ourselves into thinking that it does not affect us. It does. How? We start to think that it is normal – sad, tragic, depraved – but normal. Everyone is doing it. “One who sees the Sotah in her degradation” must do something, lest he conclude it is not degraded at all, but rather part of life. Everyone is doing it.

But everyone is not doing it. Most marriages do not end in divorce, and most spouses do not cheat on each other, and most people do not murder or steal, and most of our children do not go off the derech. It only seems that way, because our world is filled with the ubiquitous images of the violators, but they are not typical at all. They are deviants. They are exceptions to the norm.

“One who sees the Sotah in her degradation should take a vow of abstinence from wine.” The onlookers, the passersby – they are the ones in danger of being seduced by the existence of the Sotah into thinking that the world is degenerate and corrupt while in reality it is mostly good and decent.

“Abstaining from wine” means that a person must temporarily deprive himself of the means of obscuring his moral sense, which alcohol will do in sufficient quantity. He has to counterbalance what he sees so it does not distort his world view. How that is to be done is not as simple as saying “get rid of the television.” That might help, but is still not enough. There is radio, there are newspapers,
there is the public domain. Sometimes it is difficult to walk down the street
these days without encountering a full range of Sotah-wannabes.

The least we can do – and the first step we must take as we observe the travails of Weiner, Edwards, and the rest is to realize that it is not normal, that it is atypical and disgraceful behavior, and that it is a moral offense, repugnant to our
sensibilities. If saying that certain conduct is “immoral” stamps us as judgmental, then so be it. Normal human beings make judgments all the time.

Where society is debauched, and too many are quick to rationalize misbehavior and trivialize iniquity, then we must go to the opposite extreme – for our own protection and to safeguard our own moral preserve. The Nazir and the Sotah are polar opposites – one takes on more prohibitions because the other observed too few. To uphold our moral standards in the face of unpopularity is a badge of honor, worthy of those who again preparing to receive the Torah as on the day it was given to us at Sinai.

     In Parshat Vayishlach, the Torah relates that as Yaakov prepared for his fateful encounter with his estranged brother Esav, “Yaakov (Jacob) became very frightened, and it distressed him” (Breisheet 32:8). What petrified him ? Rashi (11^th century) comments: He was “very frightened,” lest Esav kill him, and “distressed,” lest he have to kill others. Leaving aside the obvious fear that Esav would kill Yaakov, notwithstanding G-d’s promise to protect Yaakov from all harm (perhaps that did not apply to Yaakov’s family), why would Yaakov be distressed lest he have to kill others ? The Torah posits, and Jewish law prescribes (Talmud, Sanhedrin 72a), that “if one comes to kill you, arise preemptively and kill him first” ? If Yaakov successfully repulsed his attackers, even struck them before they could attack him, he has followed the Torah’s dictates precisely. Why should that be cause for distress ? It sounds almost …liberal, reminiscent, in fact, of Golda Meir’s lament that she can forgive the Arabs for killing our soldiers, but not forgive them for forcing our soldiers to kill them. Was she right ?

    Rav Yaakov Ariel, esteemed Chief Rabbi of Ramat Gan, cited the opinions of two commentators who lived less than a century apart, whose wisdom transcends their generation. The Maharal (Prague, 16-17^th centuries) explains that Yaakov was aggrieved that he might have to kill others – either combatants forced into this struggle against their will or non-combatants that are unfortunately killed in every war. These are people who bad fortune causes them to be situated too close to the hostilities. Yaakov was troubled that he would be forced to do this.

    R. Eliyahu Mizrachi (Turkey, 16-17^th centuries) suggests that Yaakov was anxious for another reason. Granted that the Torah permits – even mandates – self-defense in the face of an aggressor. But this only applies to the victim himself. Regarding the threat to the lives of others – his family, for example – the Torah deems the aggressor a rodef, a pursuer who can be stopped at the cost of his life. But, Jewish law dictates that if it is possible to deter such a rodef through merely injuring him, then it is forbidden to kill him. What distressed Yaakov was that he might be guilty of using “excessive force” in battle, and killing pursuers that he could have stopped through less drastic means.

    How interesting ! The twin arguments used primarily against Israel in order to induce guilt in the exercise of their natural right of self-defense – “the death of innocent civilians and the use of excessive force,” both staples of the Goldstone Report and every contrived reaction to any act of self-defense on Israel’s part – were both foreshadowed by biblical commentators half a millennium ago and augured in Yaakov’s encounter with Esav 3½ millennia ago. Yaakov shared these same concerns that confront his descendants today. And how did he respond, notwithstanding these concerns ? He prepared for war, engaged in diplomacy, and prayed to G-d.

    The fact that innocent (or not-so-innocent) civilians would be killed in battle or that Yaakov might have to employ “excessive force” to defend his family left him feeling distressed – a natural and most human reaction of an ethical person – but did not at all inhibit his preparations for war, and his conduct of that war (if he had been called on to fight). Yaakov recognized the sad but inevitable reality that people die in war, even innocent people, and that the victor usually uses excessive force (that is why he prevails). We can be distressed by it – but that is the nature of war, and the greater immorality is to be defeated by evildoers because our ethical misgivings about the conduct of war. The enemy, of course, recognizes that, exploits it, and would love to have us wallow in our sensitivities (as in Golda Meir’s statement above). It is a case of “sorry, but we have no choice.”

   The Torah portion also describes Yaakov’s preparations to meet his brother, in an effort to mollify him, involving acts of obeisance that were often utilized by subsequent generations in dealing with our adversaries. But at least Yaakov knew with whom he was dealing; do we ?

      That is to say, when will Secretary of State Hillary Clinton get the “Jim Baker” treatment ? Baker, who served as President Bush’s (41) Secretary of State, was lambasted – properly so – as a Jew hater and worse for his contemptuous treatment of Israel and American Jews, famously (and publicly) telling the former to call the White House operator when they are “serious about peace,” and suggesting the latter perform an anatomically impossible act because “they don’t vote for us anyway.” But at least Baker had the decency not to hide his contempt.

     Hillary Clinton – female, liberal Democrat that she is – has somehow dodged these accusations, even though she – and her boss – have publicly humiliated Israel’s Prime Minister on several occasions and continues to treat him as if he heads a banana republic (which, to his eternal shame, he seems to enjoy). The threats, the demands, the public opposition to Israel’s building in YESHA and the lack of sympathy for Israel’s security concerns likely exceed anything Baker ever said or did – but Hillary gets a free ride. When will Jews wake up ? Hillary Clinton is a faithful servant of her president, and her own husband’s repudiation of Netanyahu in the prime minister’s first term in office does not herald well for US-Israel relations in the near future. Clearly, she is pursuing a similar policy goal as did Bill Clinton – get Netanyahu out of power so a more malleable leader can take over – and clearly Netanyahu is repeating the same mistakes, thinking he can sweet-talk Americans and deceive Israelis at the same time.

   Yaakov’s deference to Esav was calculated, as he had certain policy goals in mind that he wished to achieve – survival and then separation. He was successful, because for Yaakov, obsequiousness was a tactic and not a personality. Does Netanyahu have articulated policy goals in mind, or he is being seduced by empty promises that will not at all benefit Israel in the long or short term ?

    We can only pray – as Yaakov also did – for a return of Jewish sense and pride, honesty in evaluating who are friends and who are adversaries, courage and knowledge. And for that guidance, we are blessed with our Torah, eternally holy and eternally relevant.

     In fact, this principle is one of the fundamental concepts of the Jewish people – that no prophet is like Moshe and no prophecy is like Moshe’s. It is the seventh principle of the Rambam – that Moshe is the master of all prophets, and that all others are inferior to him. We maintain that G-d communicated with Moshe b’aspaklaria hame’ira, with a crystal clear vision, but to other prophets b’aspaklaria she’enena me’ira, with a visualization that was cloudy, opaque, and unclear.

     That was Moshe’s greatness. The question is: why is this important ? How does it affect our lives whether or not Moshe was the greatest prophet? Who keeps score ? Why should this be a fundamental tenet of Judaism ? And what is an aspaklaria hame’ira, the clearest mental picture attainable ?

     Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook zt”l explained (Orot 121) that there is a difference between Moshe’s prophecy and that of other prophets, and this distinction affects us greatly until today. The other prophets only spoke of ideals, principles, values, and strivings – of justice and righteousness and kindness. They reinforced to the Jews again and again the basic norms of decent behavior, the foundation of the entire Torah. They never admonished the people for not keeping Shabbat or Kashrut – but for not being good people, or for not being conscious of G-d’s presence. The prophets were not allowed to innovate in halacha, or to tamper with, deviate or supplement the Torah.

     Their vision was of ideals and generalities, but nothing specific. It was a vision b’aspaklaria she’enena me’ira.

     Moshe’s prophecy was b’aspaklaria hame’ira. He transmitted to us not only the ideals of Torah, but also specifically how those ideals are translated into practical behavior. Moshe spoke not only of justice in the abstract, but also how the particulars of every mitzva produce a just person; he taught not only of the imperative of kindness, but also how the details of each mitzva help fashion the kind personality. Moshe taught us how each mitzva translates the theoretical into the practical – and that is why his prophecy was unique, and itself one of the thirteen cardinal principles of the Jewish faith.

     Moshe saw the entirety of Hashem’s message b’aspaklaria hame’ira, with a clear lens. He perceived both the particulars and the principles as one. The prophetic vision can only complement Torat Moshe; it cannot add to it intrinsically.

     Certainly, this is no denigration of the prophets of Israel. Indeed, the particulars of Moshe’s Torah – the Mitzvot – are wasted on and easily corrupted by those who observe them without reference to the prophetic vision. And clearly those who speak in the lofty and exalted terms of the prophets while divorced from the mitzvot of Torat Moshe have emasculated the Torah and essentially created another religion.

     Both visions form the composite Jewish experience. And yet, both currents today inhabit two different worlds. We are confronted by a Jewish world that, at one end, ignores halacha as not germane to modern life, or, at the other end, is wrapped up compulsively in issues of kosher wigs, kosher water and wormy fish, and the like, that, notwithstanding that it reflects a lack of sophistication about the world (and even a very narrow view of halacha), but is almost designed to make us look peculiar in the eyes of our contemporaries. “You shall safeguard and perform the mitzvot, for they are your wisdom and discernment in the eyes of the nations, who will hear of these decrees and shall say about you ‘Surely a wise and discerning people is this great nation’” (Devarim 4:6). Unfortunately, few people who read of current events in the Jewish world will be moved to exclaim ‘Surely a wise and discerning people is this great nation’. (When the facts remain the same and only the halacha purports to change, something more than sober analysis is afoot.) Much has been lost in the synthesis of Torat Moshe and the vision of our prophets.

      We witness some of this dissonance every week. Although prophecy ceased some 24 centuries ago, the words of the prophets ring true until today. They are not written on the subway walls, but read in shul – the weekly haftara. Yet, some of us are so unmoved by them that we literally walk out on them every Shabbat. We may tolerate Torat Moshe – the details of the mitzvot – but we cannot bear to hear the words of the prophets. They do not speak to us, and, like some other mitzvot, often do not remind us of Hashem or evoke a spiritual response. Thus, some may be quite diligent in uttering the correct blessing at Kiddush, or make sure not to turn on the TV on Shabbat, or support Israel generously  – but the whole framework of the Jewish experience simply does not resonate. And that is most unfortunate.

     Conversely, the world – even part of our world – is filled with spiritual seekers, people trying to get in touch with G-d, their soul, something beyond the physical. That is why kabbala and the New Age and all that other stuff are so popular. They may not know where to look, but at least they are looking; many of us are not even looking anymore. We are content to keep the Indians out of our hair and the bugs out of our water, recite the appropriate prayer formulas by rote, and that is our divine service.

     Even worse, parents worry about their children “flipping” in Israel. Many witness the spiritual apathy of teenagers, who, for a time will stop going to shul or observing some of the mitzvot – and wonder what will become of them. They may even pray that their children learn to just go through the motions – “just show up, say the words, bind the tefillin unthinkingly, and move on” ! Like “I” do.

     Then, after a year in Israel where a child sees the holistic, fully-integrated system of Torah, and for the first time actually feels a closeness with Hashem, the parents will often wonder what has become of their child. By the same token, the child begins to wonder why his/her parents attend shul primarily for social reasons – to visit and chat with friends – or because of social conventions – it is what Jews do on Shabbat. They feel estranged from their elders who are going through the motions and observe the Mitzvot out of habit and routine, and may even feel spiritually empty. In shul, while the child is talking to Hashem, the parents are oblivious to Hashem and talking to their friends. So, who is really “flipped” ?

     Rav Kook wrote that in the end of days, there will be a return of the light of the prophets and then a hatred of the details will prevail – the details which simple people feel hampers their ability to serve Hashem, and which frum people often feel constitutes the totality of their service of Hashem.

     We are seeing that today – as a prelude to the return of the spirit of Moshe that infuses every particular of halacha with not just a behavioral component but also with its profound spiritual essence. People will see the inner beauty of the mitzva, and we will coalesce the vision of the prophets with the vision of Moshe. We will be able to view the Torah itself b’aspaklaria hame’ira.

     Not all of us can do that today. Some of us may be spiritually burnt out and feel spiritually ice cold. But ice cold is not dead. The embers burn deep within every Jew, and only need to be ignited. We already have the great gift – the Torah. “For I have given you a precious gift…” (Mishlei 4:2). We already have the mitzvot;  we only need to bring them alive, appreciate them, embrace them with fervor and enthusiasm – daven, learn, serve G-d, do chesed as befits us as serious Jews – and a thirsty world will turn to us yearningly, with respect and reverence, for the spiritual guidance that it craves.

     That is our legacy from Moshe. Only Moshe’s prophecy could transmit to us such a system. Only through appreciating it in its fullness will we merit the true joy of the present and the glories of the future. Only then will we be receptive to and worthy of welcoming the divine presence into our midst, speedily and in our days.

       Hundreds gathered at the Kotel in August for a prayer rally in support of Gilad Schalit, the captured Israeli soldier held by Hamas in defiance of international law and on the occasion of his 23^rd birthday. There really is only one happy ending to his saga that I pray for daily: that he be rescued alive and all his captors killed. There is no other happy ending possible. Interviewed at the Kotel, Noam Schalit, father of Gilad, was quoted as saying: “We are not optimistic. If we were optimistic, we would not have come to pray.”

        I certainly have no intention of criticizing him, whose pain is intense and unimaginable. He was speaking off the cuff, and under great stress, and might have been misquoted. And I mention his statement only because it reveals an approach to prayer that many of us might share – prayer as the last resort, as asking for things, as making requests – and nothing more. It literally reflects the English word “prayer,” meaning “beg,” and was the type of prayer that the ancient Egyptian Pharaoh beseeched Moshe after several of the plagues: “Beseech G-d for me.” And immediately after Moshe did so, Pharaoh reverted to his hard-heartedness.  

      Making requests of G-d is a type of prayer and perfectly appropriate – but not what we would call tefila. And if requests (or demands) of G-d are the sum and substance of our worship, then such an experience can easily leave us desiccated and disappointed, frustrated and flustered, bigheaded and bored with the entire process. It is not always about us.

      I was chatting recently with a high school administrator about the well known difficulties of tefila among high school youth. They are bored and bewildered by the whole experience, and every school labors to find the right mechanism to inspire their students. He deduced that too many people pray – even come to synagogue – for two bad reasons: coercion and guilt. Some are forced to (as in high school, or in the case of adults who want to be part of a community or social group for which one price of admission is weekly attendance at synagogue). Others feel guilty not doing it. He related to me that when he was 20 years old, he was learning in shul before Mincha on Yom Kippur when an older man walked up to him, expressing surprise that he was learning just for the sake of learning – and said that he is in shul for only one reason – and this was on Yom Kippur day (!): if he weren’t, his father would be spinning in his grave. Guilt.

     Too many people come to synagogue with those motivations, and it is typically reflected in their level of interest and behavior, and the quality of their davening – and perceived quite easily by their children. But that’s what happens when tefila becomes only asking for things, a laundry list of requests from G-d as Santa Claus. No wonder teens find it hard to daven – how much do they have to ask for (we give them almost everything), and how much of our daily tefila really involves these supplications? Perhaps 5 minutes out of 30, not much at all.

     Rav Kook wrote that true tefila emerges from a thirst for G-d – itself a rare sensation today – and must be directed at Him in totality, and not to a particular attribute like His compassion. Rav Kook characterized tefila as “service of G-d with one’s emotions,” contrasting it with Torah study that is “service of G-d with one’s intellect.” That is not to say that the intellect plays no role in tefila; it is to say that prayer and Torah study are two different experiences. I note parenthetically that both the ArtScroll siddur, and the new Rabbi Sacks siddur are fine works (each with its own passionate advocates), with many fascinating insights about tefila. Both are filled with ideas, but both are missing something – the heart, the experience of standing before the King of Kings, and the sense of awe and reverence that should engender. But that cannot come from a siddur – that has to come from us.

       Those siddurim tell us what to contemplate, but not what to experience. They cannot convey the prayer that Rav Kook described as the “revelation of the depth of the soul,” and the spontaneous outpouring of the real person. The real person, as Rav Kook saw it, is primarily expressed through the emotions, not the intellect. The proof is that we don’t always obey the intellect – but we always know how we feel. (Of course, ideally, our emotions are shaped by our intellectual attainments.) That is the part of the human personality that is accessed during prayer, and that is why we – who often live purposely superficial existences – can find prayer difficult and exasperating.

      Pharaoh of old knew only begging, until the very end when he asked Moshe to bless him – in the language of tefila and not the language of begging. Until then, Pharaoh’s heart hardened after each time he sought Moshe’s intercession – because the beggar is never satisfied. There are always new requests that have to be granted. Prayer as begging will always be inherently unsatisfying, always leave us wanting more – more things, not more tefila. Requests are a part of tefila, but not an essential part.

      What makes tefila difficult is what makes it so sublime. It is not the quota of words we say or even our mouths that utter them – but rather the expression of what is inside us – our thoughts, our feelings, the framework and mindset with which we stand before G-d. Such prayer requires patience, practice and effort – but such prayer can be a joy, an inspiration, and an example for us and to mankind as to the way to properly relate to and serve the Creator.

      Somehow, despite their famous feuds, all of Yaakov’s sons gathered around his deathbed, and Yaakov was quite precise in identifying their uniqueness, their personalities, and their destinies are part of the nation of Israel. Of the twelve, only Shimon and Levi are described as “brothers” – in Ramban’s phrase, “complete brothers, resembling each other in a brotherly way in thought and deed.” All the others were individualists – and Yaakov raised them all, and uneasily, with one objective: to create the nucleus of G-d’s people. So how does one rear – and discipline – diverse children?

     The model of our forefathers – and life itself – reinforces that there is no perfect system and no guarantee of ultimate success – but there are patterns that lead to successful discipline that in many ways is on the wane today. Here are some rudimentary thoughts:

       Firstly, a parent must be a parent first, and a friend second or third, if at all. A child has friends – a child needs parents. A parent who acts like a child is not acting like a parent – and a parent who feels a need to ingratiate himself/herself to a child or who craves the child’s approval is also not acting like a parent. And a child needs a parent. I recently heard, incredulously, about the mindboggling case of parents who allow their children to smoke marijuana in their home – preferring that they smoke there “under supervision” than outside the home without supervision. Heaven save us – and children – from such “parents” (and their not-so-supervision) who through their children are undoubtedly re-living their wayward youth that apparently turned out so…well, or from parents whose search for personal happiness induces them into shirking or abandoning their parental responsibilities.

      Parenting, secondly, requires occasionally saying “no.” Not always saying “no” or always saying “yes,” but occasionally saying “no.” A friend rarely says “no” – or you would just find another friend. There are parents who feel their children will love them less if they say “no.” In fact, the opposite is true – children love their parents more when the parents set limits. Limits – discipline – are examples of parental love, not only authority. In truth, parents whose good values have been absorbed by their children (and whose personal virtues have been witnessed by their children) will have to say “no” less frequently as the child grows in adolescence, not more frequently.

     Rav Shlomo Wolbe cited the verse in Zecharia (11:7) as illustrative of the two models of parenting: “And I took two staffs, one I called noam, “pleasantness” and the other chovlim, “destruction,” and I shepherded the flock.” Parents have two tools of discipline – noam and chovlim – at their disposal, and must choose wisely.

      There is a destructive form of discipline – when the parent thinks he/she can create a clone of himself/herself and becomes intolerant of any deviation. The child must look, speak, think and act like the parent, walk in the parent’s footsteps – live in the same community, attend the same school, etc. That is wonderful if the child so chooses, and destructive if it is coercive. It is destructive when parents discipline in anger, and without reason or rationale. That is the “makel chovlim”- the destructive staff.

     The “makel noam” is pleasant – it rewards, it gives incentives, it provides guidelines, and it sends a message of love. Discipline is like the guardrails on a narrow, winding road; guardrails are not unreasonable constraints on one’s freedom but rather expressions of societal concern and caring. Guardrails do prevent one from experiencing the exhilaration of sailing over a cliff, but also spare one the gruesome reality of hitting rock bottom. Guardrails allow room for maneuverability – within limits. The great criticism lodged against King David, who also struggled with many of his children, is that he never disciplined his rebellious son Adoniyahu – “His father never aggrieved him” (I Kings 1:6) – never caused him any grief, never challenged him, and never said “no.”

      Thirdly, it is no crime not to be able to afford something – especially these days when many parents seem to fear telling their children “we cannot afford that, you can’t buy that.” Indeed, it is no crime not to buy something even if you can afford it. Nor is it a crime to say “no” – “you can’t go there, you can’t watch this, you can’t buy this” – even if all your child’s friends can. Parents who judge their worth based on what they give their child materially are not really worth that much, or giving them that much. There are vapid politicians today who lament that our children’s generation might be the first in American history not to out-earn their parents – and the very sentiment corrupts our children’s values. So what if they are not wealthier – there are greater, more valuable legacies we can leave our children. Would we be in a state of deprivation if we had the same material bounty, or even a little less, than the last two generations? Certainly not.

      Yaakov’s twelve sons were not an easy bunch – they were strong-willed, complicated, dynamic individuals who had legendary problems with each other and occasionally with their father. Yet, when Yaakov said “gather and listen,” they gathered and listened. And he blessed them, each with a personally appropriate blessing.

       For a parent to bless a child requires that the parent knows both his child, and the blessing. To know the child and not know the blessing is as ineffectual as knowing the blessing but not how to transmit it to the child. We need both.

         To know one’s child requires insight and objectivity, and to know the blessing – to recognize and use the “staff of pleasantness”– requires knowledge of Torah, and the spirit of our ancestors, our fathers and mothers, our grandfathers and grandmothers. And then we will merit children who are productive Jews and responsible adults, we will be positive role models to the world, and our national history will reach its inevitable – and grand – climax.

Download: Shlach – Tzitzit

Shiur Originally Given on 6/15/2009