Thanks for the Memories / Parshat Ekev 2015-5775

Remember the Golden Calf incident? Moses recalls it in this week’s sedra, Ekev, forty years after that fateful day at Mount Sinai. How does Moses’ recollection compare with the original account we find in Exodus?

Human memory is famously unreliable; it is a plastic, malleable, and often an inaccurate tapestry of things that actually did happen together with our emotional reactions to events and past memories and feelings about them. What is more, as a classic 1978 study led by Elizabeth Loftus demonstrated, merely asking misleading questions can cause people to alter their memories. Karim Nader, a neuroscientist at McGill University in Montreal believes that the very act of remembering can change our memories. Many scientists have long believed that once a memory is consolidated, it is solid, but Nader began to wonder what happens—chemically—when a memory is recalled.

Scientists have long known that recording a memory requires adjusting the connections between neurons. Each memory tweaks some tiny subset of the neurons in the brain (the human brain has 100 billion neurons in all), changing the way they communicate. Neurons send messages to one another across narrow gaps called synapses. A synapse is like a bustling port, complete with machinery for sending and receiving cargo—neurotransmitters, specialized chemicals that convey signals between neurons. All of the shipping machinery is built from proteins, the basic building blocks of cells.^[1]

Experimenting with species ranging from worms to rats to human beings, Nader demonstrated that memories can be distorted in the act of being reactivated; in other words, in the remembering itself.^[2]

Is that what happens to Moses? Torah recounts in Exodus chapter 32 the episode of the Golden Calf constructed and worshipped by the Israelites while Moses tarried on Mount Sinai to receive the Torah. A careful reading of the account reveals that Moses is at the top of the mountain when God tells him, “Hurry down, for your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt, have acted basely….” (Exodus 2:7). God next threatens to destroy this “stiffnecked people” and begin anew with Moses, who responds swiftly and deftly:

But Moses implored the Lord his God, saying, “Let not Your anger, O Lord, glaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand. Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that He delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’ Turn from your blazing anger, and renounce the plan to punish Your people. Remember Your servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, how You swore to them by Your Self…” And the Lord renounced the punishment He had planned to bring upon His people. Thereupon Moses turned and went down from the mountain bearing the two tablets of the Pact… (Exodus 32:11-15)

Only then does Moses descend the mountain. When is close enough to the Israelite encampment to first hear, and then see, the Israelites engaged in worshiping the Golden Calf, he hurls the tablets to the ground, smashing them, then grounds them to powder. Some time later, he again ascends the mountain with two blank stone tablets in hand:

The Lord said to Moses: "Carve two tablets of stone like the first, and I will inscribe upon the tablets the words that were on the first tablets, which you shattered. Be ready by morning, and in the morning come up to Mount Sinai and present yourself there to Me, on the top of the mountain…” So Moses carved two tablets of stone, like the first, and early in the morning he went up on Mount Sinai, as the Lord had commanded him, taking the two stone tablets with him.  (Exodus 34: 1, 2, 4)

Forty years later, when Moses recounts this incident to the Israelites in parshat Ekev, his telling differs significantly from the account in Exodus. In Moses’ telling, God informs him of the Israelites’ apostasy and tells him to hurry down the mountain, much as in the account we find in Exodus. But then, Moses says, he flings himself on the ground and fasts for forty days and nights to convince God not to wipe out the people. The conversation in which Moses convinces God to relent takes place not when God informs Moses of the people’s idolatry at the top of the mountain, but after Moses has descended and as part of, or following, Moses’ extremely long fast.

 At the end of those forty days and forty nights, the Lord gave me the two tablets of stone, the Tablets of the Covenant. And the Lord said to me, "Hurry, go down from here at once, for the people whom you brought out of Egypt have acted wickedly; they have been quick to stray from the path that I enjoined upon them; they have made themselves a molten image." The Lord further said to me, "I see that this is a stiffnecked people. Let Me alone and I will destroy them and blot out their name from under heaven, and I will make you a nation far more numerous than they.” I started down the mountain, a mountain ablaze with fire, the two Tablets of the Covenant in my two hands. I saw how you had sinned against the Lord your God: you had made yourselves a molten calf; you had been quick to stray from the path that the Lord had enjoined upon you. Thereupon I gripped the two tablets and flung them away with both my hands, smashing them before your eyes. I threw myself down before the Lord — eating no bread and drinking no water forty days and forty nights, as before — because of the great wrong you had committed, doing what displeased the Lord and vexing Him. For I was in dread of the Lord's fierce anger against you, which moved Him to wipe you out. And that time, too, the Lord gave heed to me. — Moreover, the Lord was angry enough with Aaron to have destroyed him; so I also interceded for Aaron at that time. — As for that sinful thing you had made, the calf, I took it and put it to the fire; I broke it to bits and ground it thoroughly until it was fine as dust, and I threw its dust into the brook that comes down from the mountain. (Deuteronomy 9:11-21)

And there is more. Moses’ recollection of his words to God entails a far more elaborate speech emphasizing the people’s wickedness, something not found in the Exodus account:

 When I lay prostrate before the Lord those forty days and forty nights, because the Lord was determined to destroy you, I prayed to the Lord and said, "O Lord God, do not annihilate Your very own people, whom You redeemed in Your majesty and whom You freed from Egypt with a mighty hand. Give thought to Your servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and pay no heed to the stubbornness of this people, its wickedness, and its sinfulness. Else the country from which You freed us will say, 'It was because the Lord was powerless to bring them into the land that He had promised them, and because He rejected them, that He brought them out to have them die in the wilderness.' Yet they are Your very own people, whom You freed with Your great might and Your outstretched arm.” (Deuteronomy 9:25-29)

And finally, in Moses’ recollection of events, he ascends Sinai a second time with not only two stone tablets, but also an ark of acadia wood he himself made at God’s behest—despite Exodus’ explicitly telling us that Betzalel made the ark:

Thereupon the Lord said to me, "Carve out two tablets of stone like the first, and come up to Me on the mountain; and make an ark of wood. I will inscribe on the tablets the commandments that were on the first tablets that you smashed, and you shall deposit them in the ark.” I made an ark of acacia wood and carved out two tablets of stone like the first; I took the two tablets with me and went up the mountain. The Lord inscribed on the tablets the same text as on the first, the Ten Commandments that He addressed to you on the mountain out of the fire on the day of the Assembly; and the Lord gave them to me. Then I left and went down from the mountain, and I deposited the tablets in the ark that I had made, where they still are, as the Lord had commanded me. (Deuteronomy 10:1-5)

It appears that Moses has greatly embellished and adorned the events of forty years prior, enlarged his role and ramped up his heroism. It is often the case that when we recall events from our past, our role stretches, if not soars, to new heights, and we become the central, heroic character in the drama we recall. Beyond the factors identified by neurobiologists, there may be numerous psychological factors at play as well, including our own desire to portray ourselves in a desirable light and a deep wish that we had behaved in a particular way or said particular things. The narrative we construct from our memories is one that has special meaning for us.

The malleability of human memory suggests numerous lessons and precautions. I’d like to highlight three.

First, knowing that our initial memories are rarely complete and accurate and, additionally, that with time and the very act of remembering, our memories change, we would do well to keep in mind that the video tape running in our brains is not from a bodycam. How often have we ascribed words and actions to ourselves that others claim were theirs? How often have others claimed credit for words and actions we are certain belong to us? Let us proceed gently, and with humility, lest we trample the feelings of others. Moses is the classic model of humility (Numbers 12:3) and even he, it seems, was prone to some exaggeration.

Second, the memories we fashion are the components of narratives of self-creation. Dr. William Randall, gerontologist and author of The Stories We Are, says that how we see ourselves and the meaning of our lives is implicit in our memories, which are how we tell the story of our lives. The stories others tell about us can influence us greatly, too. And both affect how we live our lives. Consider what your memories—the story of your life—tells you about yourself, your potential, your limitations, your goodness, your value. This is a good thing to keep in mind when we share memories of others. It is also a reminder of the importance of listening deeply to other peoples’ telling of their memories, their stories.

Third, knowing that memories are malleable gives us a measure of control in shaping our memories. When we experience something upsetting, frightening, or traumatic, we can choose which aspects of the event to highlight for ourselves and make the focus of our memories. The act of remembering is no different from the creation of a narrative in which we are narrator and protagonist in our own drama. Do we focus on, and continually review, our feelings of anger, resentment, fear, exploitation, powerlessness, and pain? Or do we make an effort to to push to the fore the redeeming aspects (however small), such as the people who reached out in kindness and offered comfort? Do we search for, and focus on, our own strength and resiliency? Try clearing your mind, and then recall a difficult or troubling episode in your life. Now retell the story to yourself—go ahead and write it down—from this angle: the kindnesses of others (give full rein to gratitude), your own strength (however modest in scale), something valuable you learned from the experience (even if the lesson came at a cost). You are reframing the memory—not violating it.

Moses’ speech to the Israelites recalling the incident of the Golden Calf may well represent his memories, but it is a narrative story he has created in his own mind, just as our memories are narrative stories in our minds. There are alternative ways to tell any story, as we see from the account of the Golden Calf in Exodus chapter 32 and Moses’ version in Deuteronomy 9-10. In some ways, our lives are the sum of stories we tell ourselves about what has happened to us and, as a result, who we are. We are the storytellers.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

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^[1] http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/how-our-brains-make-memories-14466850/?all.

^[2] This has powerful implications for people who are plagued by memories and those who work with people who suffer from PTSD. If the quality of their memories can be altered, the trauma it inflicts can be reduced. Experiments are currently underway to determine how best to use this knowledge to decrease the suffering of people with PTSD.

Whose Law Is It Anyway? / Parshat V'etchanan 2015/5775

This past week there were two acts of terrorism in Israel, both resulting in deaths. Especially horrifying is the fact that both acts, and the deaths that resulted, were committed by Jews. Sixteen-year-old Shira Banki died today of stab wounds inflicted by Yishai Shlissel, a haredi man who stabbed Shira and five other people last Thursday at the Gay Pride Parade in Jerusalem.^[1] On Friday, eighteen-month-old Ali Saad Dawabsheh burned to death and three members of his family were seriously injured when their home in the West Bank village of Douma was set fire by two Orthodox extremists from the settler movement.

We could easily explain both incidents as cases of deranged individuals committing ghastly and unspeakable crimes, but that would be to ignore the underlying commonality and source of the ferocious hatred, intolerance, and sense of righteous entitlement that fueled both incidents, and many other acts of violence we have witnessed: the claim that Torah—as the claimants understand it and interpret it—is God’s direct word and God’s  divine will. The claim to have unfettered and exclusive access to God’s word and God’s will is a predominant feature of Western religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It has justified an immeasurable amount of violent and immoral human behavior, from the Crusades and Inquisition to ISIS. It is time for a wholesale rejection of this arrogant and dangerous claim whenever and wherever it raises its hideous head.

We find the claim made passionately in parshat V’etchanan in words that precede the Decalogue:

וַיִּקְרָא מֹשֶׁה, אֶל-כָּל-יִשְׂרָאֵל, וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת-הַחֻקִּים וְאֶת-הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים, אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי דֹּבֵר בְּאָזְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם; וּלְמַדְתֶּם אֹתָם, וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם לַעֲשֹׂתָם.  ב יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ, כָּרַת עִמָּנוּ בְּרִית--בְּחֹרֵב.  ג לֹא אֶת-אֲבֹתֵינוּ, כָּרַת יְהוָה אֶת-הַבְּרִית הַזֹּאת:  כִּי אִתָּנוּ, אֲנַחְנוּ אֵלֶּה פֹה הַיּוֹם כֻּלָּנוּ חַיִּים.  ד פָּנִים בְּפָנִים, דִּבֶּר יְהוָה עִמָּכֶם בָּהָר--מִתּוֹךְ הָאֵשׁ.  ה אָנֹכִי עֹמֵד בֵּין-יְהוָה וּבֵינֵיכֶם, בָּעֵת הַהִוא, לְהַגִּיד לָכֶם, אֶת-דְּבַר יְהוָה:  כִּי יְרֵאתֶם מִפְּנֵי הָאֵשׁ, וְלֹא-עֲלִיתֶם בָּהָר לֵאמֹר.

Moses summoned all the Israelites and said to them: Hear O Israel, the laws and rules that I proclaim to you this day! Study them and observe them faithfully! Adonai our God made a covenant with us at Horeb [Mount Sinai]. It was not with our ancestors that Adonai made this covenant but with us, the living every one of us who is here today. Face to face the Lord spoke to you on the mountain out of the fire—I stood between Adonai and you at that time to convey Adonai’s words to you, for you were afraid of the fire and did not go up the mountain—saying…  (Deuteronomy 5:1-5)

The religious myth of Sinai is a beautiful and meaningful one, but calcifying it through the most literal reading possible strips out its spiritual beauty and replaces it with dangerous fundamentalism. The specific scriptural claims that fueled the two acts of violent terrorism this past week are: (1) God forbids male homosexual intercourse (later expanded to include all sexual contact between two males, and to encompass lesbianism, as well, which Torah never mentions); and (2) God gave the Land of Israel exclusively to the Jewish people. These are religious claims grounded in a particular reading of Torah and reinforced by centuries of interpretation and commentary.

In the case of the claim concerning homosexuality, no amount of scientific evidence makes any difference to ultra-orthodox religious extremists, and from what I can see doesn’t touch most modern Orthodox authorities either. They have all immunized themselves against science, reason, and even morality by living in an insulated homophobic halakhic world of their own devising. When challenged, they resort to the claim that “halakhah is clear on this issue” and “God’s morality” differs from human morality and must simply be accepted and obeyed, yet they lack the intellectual or moral integrity to admit that they, in their interpretations, create and define halakhah, and through it, sanctify and perpetuate their own bigotries. For a modern Orthodox treatment of homosexuality (which we would hope would be far more enlightened than what we find in the haredi world) you might want to read the “Statement of Principles on the Place of Jews with a Homosexual Orientation in Our Community.”^[2] While it condemns outright humiliation of homosexuals, it is abundantly clear: “Halakhic Judaism views all male and female same-sex sexual interactions as prohibited. The question of whether sexual orientation is primarily genetic, or rather environmentally generated, is irrelevant to this prohibition.” This is hardly enlightened.

In the case of the claim to hold a divinely-issued deed to Eretz Yisrael, the Orthodox establishment that breeds extremist settlers conveniently ignores that even Scripture itself has no definitive measure of the land and contains conflicting accounts of what constitutes Israel’s patrimony from God.^[3] Extremists in the settler movement—including those whose act of “price tag” revenge killed a small child last Friday—reject all modern sensibilities concerning other people’s historical claims and needs. Marching to a self-absorbed and self-righteous drummer, they demand that the world understand Jewish pain, but ignore the pain of others. Their use of scripture to justify violence and cruelty is disgusting; their claim that in doing so they perform God’s will is vile.

Orthodox authorities of all Western religious traditions will never divest of the power that comes with the hubristic claim to speak for God. They have it neatly tied up: They don’t have to justify their decisions either intellectually or morally because it’s “God’s law”—not their own. Remember the bumper sticker: “God said it. I believe it. That settles it.”

Many people take it for granted that people will claim that their religious law is divine in origin. But that is not always the case. Torah differed from the other law codes of  the ancient Near East, which acknowledged that their laws were written by people. Outside ancient Israel, law was the province of the king in fulfillment of his obligation to the deity that legitimated his sovereignty. Hammurabi, who ruled Babylonia 3,800 years ago, promulgated a famous law code. The gods required that he produce a code of law in order to rule over the people of Babylonia; doing so proved Hammurabi was worthy to rule. (Shamash, the sun god, is shown in relief at the top of the stele, transferring authority for Babylonia to Hammurabi.) Hammurabi’s Code — all 282 laws^[4] — begins: “Anu and Bel called by name me, Hammurabi, the exalted prince, who feared Marduk, the patron god of Babylon to bring about the rule in the land.” It’s not clear that all 282 laws were enforced. Some scholars believe that the laws were guidelines for judges to employ in deciding cases.^[5] But what surprises many people is that not only is there no claim to divine authorship, quite to the contrary: Hammurabi composed it; these are his laws. Hence they are open to reconsideration and revision.

In contrast, Torah understands God to be the author of all the laws it contains. This is a unique feature of ancient Israelite religion and continues to be a staple of Orthodox Judaism, as well as Christianity and Islam. As a result, violation of any of the laws of the Torah is tantamount to disobeying God. Citizenship and religious obligation are inseparable. What is more, all laws deriving from those in the Torah—which are patently extensions, interpretations, and outright creations of human beings—are justified as God’s word and will. This is the thrust of the first mishnah of Pirkei Avot, which elegantly ascribes divine authority to the work of the Rabbis:

משה קיבל תורה מסיניי, ומסרה ליהושוע, ויהושוע לזקנים, וזקנים לנביאים, ונביאים מסרוה לאנשי כנסת הגדולה.  והן אמרו שלושה דברים:  היו מתונים בדין, והעמידו תלמידים הרבה, ועשו סייג לתורה.

Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua; Joshua to the elders; the elders to the prophets; and the prophets handed it down to the men of the Great Assembly.  They said three things: Be deliberate in judgment, raise up many disciples, and make a fence around the Torah.

The chain of authority, Mishnah claims, is unbroken, from the encounter between God and Moses on the peak of Sinai to the deliberations of the rabbis in their academies. The notion of a chain of tradition, unbroken links that connect us to our ancestors, is a wonderfully romantic image, and I can appreciate it on many levels. I also fear it because it has been used to justify egregious abuse of human beings and ongoing immorality.

It is time to reframe the “sacredness” of scripture and avoid ambiguous language such as “divinely inspired.”  Our covenant with God is a call to seek out holy values and live a holy life—our values and lives should be built around the twin poles of justice and compassion. Torah is the transcript of our ancient ancestors’ attempt to do that. Talmud is our Sages’ on-going effort to continue the search process, and comes complete with transcripts of some of their discussions and arguments, evidence that they had the moral backbone to correct Torah at times^[6], and further evidence that they could admit to not knowing. The call to holiness is not a one-time-and-forever event. Revelation is on-going. Our understanding of what God requires of us changes and evolves as we grow and learn.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

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^[1] And to compound the horror, Shlissel was released from jail three weeks after serving a ten-year sentence for stabbing three people at the 2005 Gay Pride Parade in Jerusalem.

^[2] http://statementofprinciplesnya.blogspot.com/.

^[3] The borders of the Land of Israel are often discussed in cliches: “From the Nile to the Euphrates” or “From Dan to Be’er Sheba.” These are enormously different! The first encompasses most of the Middle East, from Egypt to Babylonia, inclusive. The second encompasses an area approximately the size of Rhode Island.  Numbers chapter 34 (Parshat Mas’ei) specifies detailed borders, but the precise location of the places mentioned is not known. Mishnah Gittin 1:2 tells us: “From Rekem and eastward, including Rekem [is not Israel]; from Ashkelon and southward, including Ashkelon; from Acco and northward; R. Yehudah considers Acco itself outside; R. Meir disagrees.” This is a much smaller area than Numbers 34 suggests.

^[4] Hammurabi’s Code is fascinating for many reasons, not least because it contains the lex talionis and the presumption of innocence. Lex Talionis is the law of retribution, often called the eye-for-an-eye law.

^[5] Many scholars believe that the same is true of the multiple law codes found in Torah.

^[6] Two examples will suffice: The Sages dismantled the law of the ben sorer u’moreh (rebellious son, whom Torah instructs us to bring to the gates of the city and stone to death), and capital punishment (the Sages understood how easily an innocent person could be convicted and executed).

So Much From One Word / Parshat Devarim 2015-5775

One of the joys of Torah is that each time we return to it, we find new meaning in the text. Midrash^[1] says there are seventy faces of Torah, but in fact there are many more. This is true for each Torah portion, each passage, and even individual words.

This week as we open to Sefer Devarim (the Book of Deuteronomy), Moses addresses the people, reviewing their itinerary and summing up their experience in the Wilderness, in the course of which Moses recounts:

רַב-לָכֶם, סֹב אֶת-הָהָר הַזֶּה; פְּנוּ לָכֶם, צָפֹנָה.

Then the Lord said to me: You have been skirting this hill country long enough; now turn צָפֹנָה tzafona/northward. (Deuteronomy 2:3)

Northward. Seems simple and clear enough, doesn’t it? Merely a cardinal direction? But the Hebrew term צָפֹנָה tzafona (“northward”) looks and sounds like the Hebrew word צָפוּן  (tzafun) meaning “hide” or “hidden.” This generates a raft of interpretations—all based not merely on the one word, but on reading that one word as its homonym.

This week, I offer you three different “directions” commentators take based on reading “northward” as “hidden”. These commentaries were written 1,100 years ago, 400 years ago, and 200 years ago.

This first is from midrash Devarim Rabbah 1:19, edited perhaps as late as 900 C.E. Reading “northward” as “hidden” producing these three teachings:

1.     R. Chiyya interpreted: Moses said to Israel: “If you see that [Esau/the Edomites] seeks to make war on you, then do not stand up to him but hide yourselves from him until his world [his time of power and sovereignty] will have passed. (For R. Chiyya, turning tzafona/northward is a message to Israel that powerless though they be at this time, their time to flourish will come. Torah delivers an imperative to hide—lay low, bide their time, and wait patiently—until the evil empire will fall.)

2.     For R. Yehudah b. Shallum, “northward” also resonates with the word “hide” but also “north” in the sense of the direction Israel should go, which is toward Torah, Israel’s “North Star”: R. Yehudah b. Shallum said: Israel complained before God: “Master of the Universe, [Esau’s] father blessed him with the words, By the sword shall you live [Jacob’s blessing of Esau in Genesis 27:40], and You approved of the blessing, and You say to us, ‘Hide yourselves before him’? Where shall we flee?” God replied: “When you see that he would attack you, then flee to the Torah.” And tzafonah/northward surely means the Torah, as it is written, יִצְפֹּן לַיְשָׁרִים He lays up sound wisdom for the upright (Proverbs 2:7). (I suspect that R. Yehudah understands the verse in Deuteronomy to be a hint that Israel should thoroughly immerse themselves in Torah—a “hiding” of sorts—when their political situation is precarious, because the remainder of Proverbs 2:7, not quoted in the midrash, says: מָגֵן לְהֹלְכֵי תֹם It is a shield to those who walk with it wholly. The message: Torah will protect them.)

3.     A third explanation of tzafonah/northward is offered by R. Yitzhak: R. Yitzhak said: The Holy One of Blessing said [to Israel]: “Wait, the King Messiah has yet to come to fulfill the words of Scripture, מָה רַב-טוּבְךָ  אֲשֶׁר צָפַנְתָּ לִּירֵאֶיךָ How abundant is Your goodness that You have tzafanta/laid up for those who fear You (Psalm 31:20). (For R. Yitzhak, tzafona/northward also connotes something laid up or hidden away, which he understands as the reward awaiting Israel in the world-to-come.)

Taken together,  Devarim Rabbah 1:19 speaks to a people experiencing a high degree of vulnerability. It says: (1) Lay low and “hide” from the current iteration of “Esau”—their contemporary —because their power will eventually fade; (2) Israel’s best refuge and guarantee of survival is Torah; and (3) recall the promise of ultimate reward in olam ha-ba (the world-to-come). Perhaps the message can be summed up this way: However onerous and difficult life is, submerse yourself in Torah and await your divine reward.

The second commentary is found in Kli Yakar, the work of Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim b. Aaron Luntschitz (1550-1619), who also reads tzafona as “hidden.” But he hears a different message, one germane to the situation of his community as he understands it. For Kli Yakar, Deuteronomy 2:3 delivers a resounding warning about ostentation. Living in Lemberg, Poland and then Prague, Czechoslovakia in the late 16th and early 17th century, he is keenly aware of the tenuous position of Jews in both communities and throughout Europe. He explains that the verse instructs Israel to live “hidden” in exile, meaning that they should not flaunt their wealth or live beyond their means, because that could attract the attention and arouse the envy of their potentially violent and vindictive Gentiles neighbors. Here, too, we hear the echo of a vulnerable community’s anxiety, but unlike Devarim Rabbah, which counsels laying low and riding it out if need be until the messianic age, Rabbi Luntschitz seems to hold the Jews of his generation responsible for at least some of the ill-treatment they experience.

Now please consider a third and different “direction” of interpretation that nonetheless begins with reading tzafona as “hidden” rather than “northward.” For the hasidic teacher, R. Binyanim b. Aharon of Zalocze, a student of the Maggid of Mezeritch who lived in the 18th century, the verse suggests something more internal, personal, and psychological. In Torey Zahav (published 1816) he tells us that the enemy is personal and internal: the yetzer ra, the inclination inherent in each of us to do evil. R. Binyamin addresses his warning to tzaddikim, in particular. These are the charismatic hasidic teachers who lead the community in his day. Here is how R. Binyamin explains tzafona. (Please note: it helps to read the Talmudic references—one passage of Gemara and two mishnayot—in his commentary. I have included them for you as footnotes #2-4.)

We are taught that the Evil Inclination appears to the righteous like a mountain.^[2] I heard in the name of that wondrous hasid R. Nachman Kossover [a disciple of the Baal Shem Tov] an interpretation of, “The holiest offerings are slaughtered on the north [side of the altar]” (M Zevachim 5:1^[3]). The Evil Inclination entices people to commit serious transgressions. But in the case of a tzaddik, who has already overcome him several times, the Evil Inclination begins by convincing him to perform a mitzvah that really turns out to be a great sin. It might involve informing on a person or publicly shaming someone. Sometimes just a bit of improper motivation is brought in, something you don’t realize unless you look into it with great care. Only then do you feel it. Because of this, the tzaddik must always be vigilant, not letting go of this self-awareness even for a moment. Of this a pious one [Bachya b. Yosef ibn Pakuda] once said: “You may be asleep, but he [the Evil Inclination] is awake; you may be distracted, but he is always attentive, seeking to expel you from both this world and next” (Chovot ha-Levavot, Sha’ar Yichud ha-Ma’aseh 5). This is the meaning of “the holiest offerings”—those are the tzaddikim—“are slaughtered on the north.” The Evil Inclination “slaughters” them in matters that are tzafun/hidden. He knows the tzaddik won’t follow him into obvious sin. The same is not true, however, of ordinary people. Therefore “offerings of lesser holiness are slaughtered in any place in [the Temple] Court” (M Zevachim 5:7^[4]). People of little awareness can get caught up in obvious transgressions, so they can be “slaughtered” anywhere. This much I heard.

R. Binyanim recognizes that the Evil Inclination threatens us all. We all face temptation. But those who hold themselves out as leaders—and especially on the basis of their righteousness, which is what “tzaddik” means—face a special temptation: that their very holiness and special position will draw them into wrong doing, that in their quest for purity and righteousness and their expectation that others live up to their standards, they go overboard and commit grievous wrongdoings. R. Binyomin is issuing a warning to the hasidic leaders of his day, the “tzaddikim.” Today we would say that the risks inherent in being a “holy person” derive from ego and power. Informing on people and publicly shaming others are excellent examples; one appears to be doing the prescribed task, but goes overboard and causes grievous hurt to others.

This is, of course, not a danger reserved for hasidic leaders alone. Donald Miller is a young evangelical who went viral in the evangelical world after publishing his post-modern evangelical spiritual journey, Blue Like Jazz. In another forum he tells the story of a pastor in the small church in Texas where he grew up.

            A committee was put in place to replace our [retiring] pastor and the committee decided to hire a dynamic young man from Louisiana. The man had been a traveling preacher, moving from church to church to perform revivals, to tell people about Jesus. He was a tall man and loud. He flailed his arms as he spoke. He talked about God’s power, about God’s wrath, about God’s love and to be honest he was quite moving… On any given Sunday we would experience a range of emotions from guilt and shame to fear and sometimes joy.

            I even remember his first sermon. It was entitled “Appoint those you trust and trust those you appoint.” That should have been an obvious sign to everybody. He was saying, without question, if you hire me to be your pastor, I am the boss. You must never question my authority.

            Soon, the entire congregation fell under his spell. We loved it when he delighted in us but feared screwing up. One Sunday he snapped at the man working in the sound booth so sharply the man turned red from embarrassment. The pastor, realizing he’d gone too far, explained, ferociously, that God is a God of excellence and wouldn’t stand for mistakes, even from volunteer sound guys. He then quoted a passage about how we were supposed to be perfect even as Christ is perfect.

            Looking back, this was all manipulation. People who care about the truth understand they are capable of self-deception and surround themselves with accountability. This pastor got rid of the accountability. He drove off any elder who wouldn’t submit, once again, quoting scripture and spinning the Bible so that those questioning his motives looked like infidels. He even said he felt justified using violence against them, simply because they refused to trust the leader God had appointed.

What Donald Miller describes is much like what R. Binyanim b. Aharon of Zalocze warns against in Torey Zahav. But is it a danger only for tzaddikim and evangelical pastors? Clearly not. Anyone with power or authority over others, whether explicit or of a more subtle nature, can succumb to the yetzer ra (Evil Inclination) who “begins by convincing him to do a mitzvah that really turns out to be a great sin.” Bosses, parents, teachers… many of us are in the position to fall into the trap. The trenchant warning of Torey Zahav should not be missed.

While midrash Devarim Rabbah  and Kli Dakar express anxiety about Jewish powerlessness and vulnerability in exile, Torey Zahav is concerned with the abuse of power by Jewish leaders in the hasidic world. Could their messages be more different? All three commentaries depend upon reading one word—צָפֹנָה—as “hidden” rather than its contextual meaning of “northward.”

Torah and the rabbinic enterprise of interpretation offer us a world of, and means to, making meaning for our lives. Midrash Tanna de-vei Eliezer expresses it through a beautiful allegory that tells us in giving Israel the Torah, God had precisely this in mind: that we should engage in creative interpretation to allow our sacred texts to speak to our lives:

A king of flesh and blood had two servants whom he loved dearly. He gave each of them a measure of wheat and a bundle of flax. The intelligent one what did he do? He wove the flax into a cloth and made flour from the wheat, sifted it, ground it, kneaded it, and baked it, and arranged it on the table, spread on it the cloth and left it until the king returned. The stupid one did not do anything. After a time, the king returned to his house and said to them: “My sons, bring me what I gave you.” One brought out the table set with the bread and the cloth spread upon it, and the other brought the wheat in a basket and the bundle of flax with it. Oh what an embarrassment and a disgrace! Which do you think was most beloved? The one who brought the table with the bread upon it… So, too, the Holy One gave the Torah to Israel, God gave it as wheat from which to make flour and flax from which to make clothing. (Tanna de-vei Eliyahu, ch. 2)

Torah is not fully Torah until we dive into it, interpret it, and make it our own. We find further encouragement in Pirke Avot:

בן בגבג אומר, הפוך בה והפך בה, והגי בה דכולא בה, ובה תחזי, סיב ובלי בה; ומינה לא תזוז, שאין לך מידה טובה יותר ממנה.  בן האהא אומר, לפום צערא אגרא.

Ben Bag-Bag used to say of the Torah: Turn it and turn it again, for everything is in it. Pore over it, and wax gray and old over it. Stir not from it for you can have no better measure than it. Ben Heh-Heh used to say: According to the effort is the reward. (Pirke Avot 5:24-25)

If this is what we get from just one word, consider that Torah has 79,847 words. Imagine the hidden possibilities.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

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^[1] Bamidbar Rabbah 13:15.

^[2] He is referring to BT Sukkot 52a: R. Yehudah expounded: In the time to come the Holy One of Blessing will bring the Evil Inclination and slay it in the presence of both the righteous and the wicked. To the righteous it will have the appearance of a mountain; to the wicked it will have the appearance of a hair thread. Both the former and the latter will weep: The righteous will weep saying, “How were we able to overcome such a mountain!” The wicked will also weep saying, “How is it that we were unable to conquer this hair thread!” And the Holy One of Blessing will also marvel together with them, as it is said, כֹּה אָמַר, יְהוָה צְבָאוֹת, כִּי יִפָּלֵא בְּעֵינֵי שְׁאֵרִית הָעָם הַזֶּה, בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם--גַּם-בְּעֵינַי, יִפָּלֵא, נְאֻם, יְהוָה צְבָאוֹת.Thus says the Lord of Hosts: “If it be marvelous in the eyes of the remnant of this people in those days, should it also be marvelous in My eyes? (Zechariah 8:6).

^[3] M Zevachim 5:1: What are the locations of the sacrifices? The holiest offerings were slaughtered on the north [side of the altar]. The bullock and the he-goat of Yom Kippur were slaughtered on the north side and their blood was received in a consecrated vessel on the north side and had to be sprinkled between the staves [of the Ark] and the Curtain [of the Holy of Holies], and on the golden incense altar. [Omission] of one of these applications invalidates [the offering]. He [a priest] poured the remaining blood on the western base of the outer altar, but if he did not do so, it does not invalidate [the offering].

^[4] M Zevachim 5:7: The Shelamim [“peace offerings”] were offerings of lesser holiness are slaughtered in any place in [the Temple] Court. Two double sprinklings of their blood were made [at the altar so as so] as to constitute four; and they might be eaten, dressed in any manner, anywhere in the city, by any person, during  two day sand the intervening night. The portions of it [i.e., breast and shank] belonging to the priests were subject to the same rule [as other sacrifices] except that they could be eaten only by priests their wives, their children, and their bondservants.