Beginning from Bereshit, by Choice and with Awareness
[This column is based on a Dvar Torah delivered on the eve of Simchat Torah 5787.]
Three years on, the unease of Simchat Torah is still felt. The wish to celebrate the joy of the Chag collides with the day of the massacre, the day that left more than a thousand families bereaved. That collision will stay with us for many years to come. We rejoice, of course, at the return of most of the hostages, and feel a restrained relief, mingled with pain, now that the uncertainty has been resolved and those who are no longer alive have been brought to rest.
Two years ago I stood here and spoke, having only just completed my reserve duty. I asked forgiveness, and permission to celebrate the Chag, from a family that still did not know what had befallen their loved one. Since then that uncertainty too has been resolved, and he has been brought to burial.
Now, three years after the massacre, it is possible – perhaps even necessary – to begin reflecting on what we have been through: to try to understand how we have changed, and where we are heading.
The symbolic difference between Shavuot and Simchat Torah lies in this: at Matan Torah we celebrate the very receiving of the Torah, whereas on Simchat Torah we celebrate the completion of the cycle of its reading. Shavuot, then, is a celebration of the privilege; Simchat Torah is a celebration of the content. After another year of reading – certainly in an engaged, learning community – we know what is written in it. This is a self-aware celebration, a celebration by choice, at a time when we already know what the Torah contains. And it is only natural that over the course of the year, as the cycle of reading unfolds, different pesukim stand out, are received differently, or acquire new interpretation in light of the time and circumstances. In this sense, each year we celebrate the choice anew, together with the collection of pesukim that proved more significant in the most recent cycle. That is what I shall do too.
It is only natural that over the course of the year, as the cycle of Torah reading unfolds, different verses stand out, are received differently, or acquire new interpretation in light of the time and circumstances. In this sense, each year we celebrate the choice anew, with awareness and by choice.
The trauma is still fresh for all of us, and in some of us post-traumatic stress is already making itself felt. So it is with me: I cannot ignore my own experience of trauma, for, whether I wish it or not, it has been seared into my deeds and my words. I have changed. I am not sure I can even say in what way, but I am not the same person I was before the seventh of October.
In Masechet Bava Kamma (60a), Rav Yosef expounds the verse concerning the plague of the firstborn:
וְאַתֶּם לֹא תֵצְאוּ אִישׁ מִפֶּתַח בֵּיתוֹ עַד בֹּקֶר
“And none of you shall go out of the door of his house until the morning.” (Shemot 12:22)
He comments:
כיון שניתן רשות למשחית, אינו מבחין בין צדיקים לרשעים, ולא עוד, אלא שמתחיל מן הצדיקים תחלה, שנאמר: וְהִכְרַתִּי מִמֵּךְ צַדִּיק וְרָשָׁע
“Once licence has been granted to the Mashchit [the destroying angel who slew the firstborn of Egypt], it does not distinguish between the righteous and the wicked. And not only that, but it begins with the righteous first, as it is said: ‘And I will cut off from you the righteous and the wicked.’” (Bava Kama 60a, citing Yechezkel 21:8)
On the seventh of October, licence was granted to destroy. The instrument in the hand of the Mashchit this time was neither natural disaster nor plague, but human beings – the people of Gaza – who, from the moment they breached the fences, and all the more once they discovered the task was easier than they had thought, cast off every restraint and swept through the Gaza border communities like a flood, destroying, murdering, abducting and plundering whatever came to hand.
My trauma is not combat trauma, that of a soldier at the front, for I did not experience combat and at no stage was my life in danger. My trauma stems from prolonged exposure to evil – from tracking the work of the Mashchit through its agents, those who were given permission to destroy until every human and inner restraint against doing whatever they pleased had been removed from them. The encounter with the evil that erupted on that day was traumatic for all of us, for it realised our greatest fear, certainly since the Second Intifada. Encountering that evil day after day for an entire year broke me.
On the seventh of October, licence was granted to destroy. The instrument in the hand of the Mashchit this time was neither natural disaster nor plague, but human beings; and prolonged exposure to human evil, since that eruption, has seared trauma into us.
And when the Mashchit takes the righteous together with the wicked, the trauma is compounded many times over: not only through the loss of the righteous, but through the tension between the G-d who, even regarding Sedom, said:
לֹא אַשְׁחִית בַּעֲבוּר הָעֲשָׂרָה
“I will not destroy, for the sake of the ten.” (Bereshit 18:32)
and Avraham, who cried out before Him:
הֲשֹׁפֵט כׇּל הָאָרֶץ לֹא יַעֲשֶׂה מִשְׁפָּט
“Shall the Judge of all the earth not do justice?” (18:25)
And we, as it were, cry out with him. The Land was given in the merit of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov; yet it seems that Avraham’s fine words concerning Sedom:
חָלִלָה לְּךָ מֵעֲשֹׂת כַּדָּבָר הַזֶּה לְהָמִית צַדִּיק עִם רָשָׁע וְהָיָה כַצַּדִּיק כָּרָשָׁע
“Far be it from You to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous should be as the wicked” (18:25)
Perhaps these words are no longer fitting in the eyes of the Holy One, blessed be He, with regard to Yisrael; as though He had brought to pass some of the curses written in Parashat Ki Tavo:
יִתֶּנְךָ ה׳ נִגָּף לִפְנֵי אֹיְבֶיךָ בְּדֶרֶךְ אֶחָד תֵּצֵא אֵלָיו וּבְשִׁבְעָה דְרָכִים תָּנוּס לְפָנָיו וְהָיִיתָ לְזַעֲוָה לְכֹל מַמְלְכוֹת הָאָרֶץ. וְהָיְתָה נִבְלָתְךָ לְמַאֲכָל לְכׇל עוֹף הַשָּׁמַיִם וּלְבֶהֱמַת הָאָרֶץ וְאֵין מַחֲרִיד… בָּנֶיךָ וּבְנֹתֶיךָ נְתֻנִים לְעַם אַחֵר וְעֵינֶיךָ רֹאוֹת וְכָלוֹת אֲלֵיהֶם כׇּל הַיּוֹם וְאֵין לְאֵל יָדֶךָ… וְהֵצַר לְךָ בְּכׇל שְׁעָרֶיךָ עַד רֶדֶת חֹמֹתֶיךָ הַגְּבֹהֹת וְהַבְּצֻרוֹת אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה בֹּטֵחַ בָּהֵן בְּכׇל אַרְצֶךָ וְהֵצַר לְךָ בְּכׇל שְׁעָרֶיךָ בְּכׇל אַרְצְךָ אֲשֶׁר נָתַן ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ לָךְ
“Hashem will cause you to be struck down before your enemies; you shall go out against them one way, and flee before them seven ways; and you shall become a horror to all the kingdoms of the earth. And your carcass shall be food for every bird of the heavens and for the beasts of the earth, and none shall frighten them away… Your sons and your daughters shall be given to another people, and your eyes shall look and fail with longing for them all the day, and there shall be no power in your hand… And he shall besiege you in all your gates, until your high and fortified walls, in which you trusted, come down throughout your land; and he shall besiege you in all your gates, throughout your land, which Hashem your G-d has given you.” (Devarim 28:25-52)
For me, perhaps the hardest description of all is found in the Haftarah of Chazon, and it calls up vivid memories of Nir Oz and Be’eri:
אַרְצְכֶם שְׁמָמָה, עָרֵיכֶם שְׂרֻפוֹת אֵשׁ, אַדְמַתְכֶם לְנֶגְדְּכֶם, זָרִים אֹכְלִים אֹתָהּ, וּשְׁמָמָה כְּמַהְפֵּכַת זָרִים. וְנוֹתְרָה בַת צִיּוֹן כְּסֻכָּה בְכָרֶם, כִּמְלוּנָה בְמִקְשָׁה, כְּעִיר נְצוּרָה
“Your land is desolate; your cities are burnt with fire; your soil – strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers. And the daughter of Zion is left like a booth in a vineyard, like a lodge in a field of cucumbers, like a besieged city.” (Yeshayahu 1:7-8)
In the years that have passed since, I have searched for meaning, and I am reminded of Parashat Ekev. Just before Bnei Yisrael cross the Yarden, after it has been described how Hashem will fight the inhabitants of the Land, and how they will inherit the Land and live in wealth and plenty, it is said:
לֹא בְצִדְקָתְךָ וּבְיֹשֶׁר לְבָבְךָ אַתָּה בָא לָרֶשֶׁת אֶת אַרְצָם, כִּי בְּרִשְׁעַת הַגּוֹיִם הָאֵלֶּה ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ מוֹרִישָׁם מִפָּנֶיךָ, וּלְמַעַן הָקִים אֶת הַדָּבָר אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע ה׳ לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ, לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב
“Not for your righteousness, nor for the uprightness of your heart, do you go in to possess their land; but for the wickedness of these nations Hashem your G-d drives them out from before you, and in order to establish the word which Hashem swore to your fathers, to Avraham, to Yitzchak and to Yaakov.” (Devarim 9:5)
We must give thought to this pasuk. We received the Land neither by merit nor by grace, but almost by way of hefker – as though it lay ownerless, free for any taker – because of the wicked deeds of the Land’s inhabitants, and because of the promise to the Avot. Neither by merit nor by grace. And when this pasuk is joined to the spirit of the pesukim of blessing and curse, and to the prophecies of Yeshayahu, the bond between dwelling in the Land and the way of life of those who dwell in it becomes sharper still. From this vantage point, Klal Yisrael is no different from the other nations whom the Land spewed out – and indeed the Land has spewed us out at least twice.
But this verse sharpens something further. Against the image of Klal Yisrael as an Am Segulah, chosen by Hashem to serve Him, it emerges that we are but players, as it were, in a larger game taking place between the Holy One, blessed be He, and all the nations: a people meant to demonstrate through its history – as a people of freed slaves who became a nation – and through its way of life, sensitive to slavery, to oppression, and to the weakest links in society, such as the stranger, the orphan and the widow, that
כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם
“For you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Devarim 10:19)
A people whose role is to be the antithesis of Amalek, who struck
כׇּל הַנֶּחֱשָׁלִים אַחֲרֶיךָ וְאַתָּה עָיֵף וְיָגֵעַ
“all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary.” (Devarim 25:18)
And we have already seen that when Klal Yisrael does not serve as an example, but behaves like the other nations, the Land spews it out.
I look at what we have been through in the years since the seventh of October and try to understand what the trauma has done to us, as individuals and as a community. There is no doubt that, from the very first moments until now, wondrous expressions of heroism and solidarity have emerged among us. And I believe that out of the trauma will grow forces of empowerment, creativity and depth such as we have perhaps not seen since the years that followed the Yom Kippur War.
But the trauma has also given rise to forces of destruction, vengeance and violence. And in a kind of vicious circle, the Mashchit is not yet been satisfied, and stops at nothing; thus the victim has become the aggressor. I refer above all to the growing violence in Yehudah and Shomron – violence we can no longer ignore, and which we are obliged, as Rav Moshe Lichtenstein of Yeshivat Har Etzion recently called upon us – together with other rabbanim and public figures whose voices had not previously been heard in this context – to raise in our synagogues and to oppose in a clear, lucid and unequivocal voice.
This violence grew out of trauma, and the trauma is understandable; even the feeling of vengeance is understandable. But translating it from potential into action – unrestrained, rationalised, and cloaked in ideological and religious garb – is reprehensible, dangerous and morally unacceptable. Its damage will stay with us not only in the immediate term but in the long term too. We must consider what this violence is doing to us as a community, and all the more so to teenagers and minors who are growing accustomed to a destructive sense of power and might over the elderly, the disabled and children – Jews and Arabs alike. It is violence that will not remain confined to relations between shepherds and Bedouin; in the end it will reach every dispute in our society. When I said here two years ago that the real test still lay before us, that
לַפֶּתַח חַטָּאת רֹבֵץ
“sin crouches at the door” (Bereshit 4:7)
It was precisely this that I feared. The trauma has also given rise to forces of destruction, vengeance and violence. And in a kind of vicious circle, the Mashchit is not yet sated, and stops at nothing; thus the victim has become the aggressor.
Yet despite all this, and perhaps precisely because of it, I choose once again to celebrate the Torah with awareness, and to begin again from Bereshit. I do not forget that the Torah contains mitzvot that are complex and hard to digest; yet at the same time I remind myself, and all of us, that it has something to say about the challenges we now face as well. Not only about caring for the stranger, the orphan and the widow out of the memory of our bondage in Egypt, but also about the obligation to call for peace before going out to war (Devarim 20:10); about the responsibility of the community and its leadership when human life is lost, as described in the passage of the eglah arufah (Devarim 21:1–9); about the purity of the camp – and about the concern for what war does to the soul of the fighter:
כִּי תֵצֵא מַחֲנֶה עַל אֹיְבֶיךָ וְנִשְׁמַרְתָּ מִכֹּל דָּבָר רָע
“When you go out as a camp against your enemies, you shall guard yourself from every evil thing.” (Devarim 23:10)
At this time, after three years of bloody war, I pray that we may find within ourselves the strength and the understanding to refrain from serving as instruments in the hands of the Mashchit, so that it returns powerless to the place from which it came. Only thus can we hope to emerge from the curse of the seventh of October, and to exchange the curses of Parashat Ki Tavo for its blessings:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה בָּעִיר וּבָרוּךְ אַתָּה בַּשָּׂדֶה… בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה בְּבֹאֶךָ וּבָרוּךְ אַתָּה בְּצֵאתֶךָ. יִתֵּן ה׳ אֶת אֹיְבֶיךָ הַקָּמִים עָלֶיךָ נִגָּפִים לְפָנֶיךָ, בְּדֶרֶךְ אֶחָד יֵצְאוּ אֵלֶיךָ וּבְשִׁבְעָה דְרָכִים יָנוּסוּ לְפָנֶיךָ. יְצַו ה׳ אִתְּךָ אֶת הַבְּרָכָה בַּאֲסָמֶיךָ וּבְכֹל מִשְׁלַח יָדֶךָ וּבֵרַכְךָ בָּאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לָךְ. יְקִימְךָ ה׳ לוֹ לְעַם קָדוֹשׁ כַּאֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע לָךְ כִּי תִשְׁמֹר אֶת מִצְוֺת ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ וְהָלַכְתָּ בִּדְרָכָיו
“Blessed shall you be in the city, and blessed shall you be in the field… Blessed shall you be when you come in, and blessed shall you be when you go out. Hashem will cause your enemies who rise up against you to be struck down before you; they shall come out against you one way, and flee before you seven ways. Hashem will command the blessing to be with you in your storehouses and in all that you set your hand to; and He will bless you in the land which Hashem your G-d gives you. Hashem will establish you as a holy people unto Himself, as He has sworn to you, if you keep the mitzvot of Hashem your G-d and walk in His ways.” (Devarim 28:3-9)
Yoav Phillips, Yerushalayim
