29 May 2022

Parshat Bechukotai: Iron and Copper

 This week's Parsha of Bechukotai has always terrified me.  It contains the first Tochecha, or warning, given by Gd to the Bnei Yisrael and is repeated in even greater detail in Parshat Ki Tavo.

Bechukotai lists forty-nine curses and tragedies which will befall the Jewish people if they fail to follow the Torah's teachings.  The number is doubled to ninety-eight in the latter Parsha.  It is no coincidence that the first warning is read shortly before Shavuot and the second a few weeks before Rosh Hashanah. 

One of the explanations given by Chazal is that the warnings are strategically placed at these times of the year to prepare us for the respective festivals.  They say that if you are given a gift you would not wish to place it into a soiled container.  As we approach the festival of Shavuot, we read the Tochacha to cleanse ourselves spiritually, so that we can receive the Torah again, aware of what could and tragically did happen when our ancestors didn't take heed of the Torah's commandments.  Similarly, as we near Rosh Hashanah, we want to end off the previous year in the knowledge that we are ready to enter the new one.

Both readings are very different and it is beyond the scope of this Drasha to list the discrepancies.  However, one verse has always particularly bothered me, not because it described a calamity, but as a result of the language used. 

The Tochacha consists of five incremental stages that the Bnei Yisrael would be subject to if they didn't follow the Torah's teachings.  This verse appears in the second section:

Leviticus 26:

(19) ...I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper.

One of our greatest commentators, Rashi, provides the peshat (i.e.  simple) explanation of what this means by comparing it with the similar verse in the second Parsha, which states:

Deuteronomy 28:

(23) The skies above your head shall be copper and the earth under you iron.

He says that in the second tochacha, the juxtaposition of the heaven and earth being copper and iron is less severe than in the first case since copper is a metal that allows moisture to seep through.  In climactic terms, this would refer to the heavens exuding some humidity.  The earth being iron, which does not allow moisture to seep out would therefore allow its produce to benefit from this, which would not lead to a drought across the land.

In this week's parsha, if the heavens are iron, which prohibits the release of moisture the 'copper' ground will be heated up to the point that it 'sweats' and all its produce will perish resulting in a drought.  It doesn't take much imagination to know how our planet has suffered through lack of rain.

Rashi's explanation on a metaphoric level makes sense, but in practical terms, I haven’t been able to understand how this could relate to the natural world that we inhabit.

When my mother passed away last year, I found myself with the dilemma of how I would be able to manage without listening to music.  I have obviously restricted my musical intake many times observing the laws of the Omer and the three weeks which both end after a relatively short period of time.  A year spent in abstention is a different matter.  To compensate, I took out a subscription to Amazon's Audible service.  This allows me to download any book of my choice for a modest monthly fee.  This last year has been nothing short of a revelation and has proved to be extremely rewarding.  I am not even sure that I should have enjoyed my listening experience so much granted my circumstances.  From learning about Japanese Wind Phones to marvelling at the wonderful writing of a bevy of contemporary authors, it has been a truly enriching experience.  My year ended shortly before Pesach and so, as per the season, I found myself back in 'mourning mode' with the re-entry of the Omer into our lives.  It was time to consult Audible's vast library and the book that found its way into my digital audiobook collection was the recently published autobiography of Lily Ebert, the ninety-eight-year-old survivor of Auschwitz and Buchenwald.

 

 

I can honestly state that of all the books I heard over the last fourteen months, none has affected me in the same way as 'Lily's Promise'.  It has also enabled me to finally understand and appreciate the aforementioned Pasuk (and I was so moved by the book that I ended up buying a hard copy).

Lily describes the 'iron sky' of Auschwitz:

"...Then it was back out into the Lager (camp) and now the sky seemed darker, greyer.  A pall hung over everything, blocking out the sun.  Not far away was a tall chimney,  smoking furiously, with flames emerging red and bright. "

Was the sky iron or copper coloured at that moment?

"...For days already, we'd had no sleep.  And now, there was nowhere to lie down except for the bare stony ground of the Lager, the big open space between each barracks building.  Just stones, and powdery grey soil."

"One boiling hot day when we had already stood for hours like statues, always in lines of five, a sudden thunderstorm exploded above us.  It poured with rain.  On and on.  And still we had to stand there.  Immobile.  Utterly drenched, in the only clothes we had.  Never complaining.  Never saying a word."

Perhaps on that day, the sky above their heads was copper.  On others, iron.

When Lily returned to Auschwitz-Birkenau in 1988 with her daughter Esti, she described the scene:

"One of the watchtowers had been turned into an exhibit.  I climbed the steps with one group and looked out through the glass.  I was standing on the very spot where German guards used to stand watching us, night and day, machine guns in their hands.  A place I never imagined I would stand.  It was so strange to look out over such emptiness.  How powerfully I felt the emptiness.  I vividly remembered thousands and thousands of people standing there on the Appellplatz.  For hours and hours and hours.  Morning and night.  We couldn't move.  We were numb with terror.  And now there was nothing.  Nobody at all.  It was so quiet.  Peaceful, even.  Still not a single bird singing.  But how much fear and how much suffering were endured here?  How many people were killed for no reason? I thought the ground would be red from blood.  It should be red.  But it's not.  It's grey.  Even the air still seems grey from the ashes."

© Lily’s Promise: How I Survived Auschwitz and Found the Strength to Live, Lily Ebert and Dov Forman, Macmillan, 2021

 

 

The earth under them was definitely iron, was it not?

On the one hand, Lily's book has helped us appreciate the metaphor in a way that we could not have envisioned.  On the other, her description of Gd's world manipulated through the evil machinations of the Nazis into the very embodiment of hell on earth is extremely harrowing and depressing.  How can we come to terms with linking the two ideas, namely, a Divine warning in the Torah and the very real events that took place in living memory?

It would be disingenuous of me to attempt to do this, because no-one can answer the age-old question about how Gd could allow the Shoah to take place.  All we can do is try to make sense of where it fits within the long continuum that is Jewish History.  Perhaps, we can look at one of the final verses in the warning to gain a semblance of comfort:

Leviticus 26:

(42) Then will I remember My covenant with Jacob; I will remember also My covenant with Isaac, and also My covenant with Abraham; and I will remember the land.

After all of the curses and disasters that will befall our nation, Gd will not reject us.  We will survive.  Fewer in number.  Bruised and battered.  Traumatised but not vanquished.  Exactly like Lily and others like her who survived the camps, rebuilt their lives and in the process, helped to repopulate our nation.

For though the skies and the earth might be compared to copper or iron, eventually, even the strongest of metals succumbs to fatigue and cracks.  It is only then that the new shoots can break through and grow into a new plant or tree.

The Jewish people, like the moon and the seasons, might look as if they are fading away, but as long as the Torah winds its spiritual way into our minds and hearts, we can never be beaten. 

Perhaps, the iron and copper that was previously above and below us has always been embedded into our DNA and makes us indestructible!   

Shavuah Tov.  


22 May 2022

Parshat Behar: The Other Jubilee

We are living in auspicious times.  I suspect that no adult in the United Kingdom is unaware of the event that is about to impact our lives.  Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will be marking her Platinum Jubilee as Head of State and we, her loyal subjects, will be blessed to have a long weekend to join in the fun!

In fact, as Jews, we have an opportunity to afford ourselves even more holiday time granted that the aforementioned milestone will be celebrated over Shabbat which itself leads into Shavuot.  I think we should honour Her Majesty's extraordinary achievement by eating lots of cheesecake!

Thinking about this Jubilee more deeply, I am struck by the parallel timing of the weekend in conjunction with Shavuot.  For on that Shabbat, we will mark the completion of our seven weeks count of the Omer.  It seems to have begun such a long time ago, whilst we were enjoying our second Sedarim (or the first night of Chol Hamo'ed if you're Israeli).  It has built up gradually and has edged us slowly and excitedly towards the magnificent crescendo which we call Shavuot (which literally means 'weeks').  Its culmination on the Sunday, will mark the anniversary of our nation's very own Coronation - when the King of the Universe gave us our most precious gift, namely the Torah.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen on Sunday, 5th June 2022 corresponding with the 6th Sivan 5782, we will be marking two Jubilees - one in Heaven and the other on Earth!

Queen Elizabeth is the longest reigning monarch in the history of these isles.  Her nearest competitor in the longevity stakes is Queen Victoria at 63 years and 7 months; followed by George III (59 years and 3 months) and Henry III (circa 56 years).  The length of time that the Queen has sat on her throne is a remarkable achievement.  But, with all due respect, when it comes to Jubilees, we were there first!

In fact, the Queen and the rest of this nation might have used another term to describe her Platinum anniversary had they not anglicised a word that can be found in this week's Parsha of Behar.

 

Let us set the scene:

Hashem instructs Moshe to tell the Bnei Yisrael that when they enter Canaan:

Leviticus 25:2

 The Land shall keep a Sabbath to the Lord.

The next few verses describe the Biblically mandated commandment of Shmittah:

Leviticus 25:3-9

For six years you may plant your fields, prune your vineyards and harvest its’ crops.

But the seventh year shall be to the land a Sabbath of complete rest, a Sabbath to the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyards.  You shall not harvest what grows of itself or gather the grapes of your unpruned vineyard; it is a year of rest for the land.  You may eat the land's Sabbath yield: you, your male and female servants and the hired worker and resident workers who live with you, your livestock and the wild animals in your land - whatever the land produces is there to be eaten. (ie, Shmita produce is ownerless and free for use by anyone, but can’t be sold).

And you shall count off seven Sabbaths of years—seven times seven years—so that the seven Sabbath cycles total forty-nine years.  Then you shall sound the ram's horn.  On the tenth day of the seventh month on the Day of Atonement, you shall sound the horn across your land.

What happens after Yom Kippur? The Torah informs us that:

Leviticus 25:10

You shall consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants.  This shall be your Jubilee... 

ויקרא כ״ה:י׳

(י) וְקִדַּשְׁתֶּ֗ם אֵ֣ת שְׁנַ֤ת הַחֲמִשִּׁים֙ שָׁנָ֔ה וּקְרָאתֶ֥ם דְּר֛וֹר בָּאָ֖רֶץ לְכׇל־יֹשְׁבֶ֑יהָ יוֹבֵ֥ל הִוא֙ תִּהְיֶ֣ה לָכֶ֔ם... 

The word 'Jubilee' is the direct equivalent of the Hebrew word 'Yovel'.

In reading the above, you may have felt a sense of deja-vu, in terms of the language used to describe the period of seven years. 

Did we not read the following last week?

Leviticus 23:15-17

And from the day on which you bring the sheaf of the wave offering (i.e.  the Omer)—the day after the day of rest—you shall count for yourselves seven complete weeks.  To the day after the seventh week, you shall count fifty days; then you shall present a grain offering to the Lord...on that day, you shall make a proclamation; it shall be a sacred assembly for you; you shall perform no laborious work.

Let me bring the varying strands together.

Seven weeks of seven days are followed by the fiftieth day, the festival we know as Shavuot.

Seven years of seven Shmittah cycles which were followed by the fiftieth year, which the Torah refers to as the Yovel.  In fact, as we commemorate Her Majesty's Jubilee, we are now living through a Shmittah year but these days we don’t know when to celebrate the Yovel. 

The Queen's Platinum Jubilee is, without a doubt, going to be a very special event if we recall how previous Jubilees were celebrated.  I am old enough to remember the Silver Jubilee in 1977 and both the Golden and Diamond ones in 1982 and 2012 respectively.  They were simply magnificent.  Who could forget the events of ten years ago, particularly the extraordinary flotilla up the River Thames (our local waterway!)? Yes, it rained and we marvelled at how both the Queen and the late Duke of Edinburgh braved the inclement weather, despite their ages and frailty, but those ships were something to behold, were they not?

And then what happened after the ceremonies were over, the glorious street parties ended and the chintzy memorial plates, coins and spoons were stored away? Not a great deal.  We relived our memories in late December watching the BBC's review of the year and promised ourselves that we would never forget the grandeur of the occasion, but life just went on. 

People were born and died, homes were bought and sold, seasons came and went and before we knew it, another decade had ended.  Remember that there was life before Covid!  We hoped and prayed that the Queen and her Escort would live long enough to allow us to recreate those feel-good moments in the future.  Sadly, this year, the Queen alone has been able to reach this milestone.  The people in the United Kingdom have experienced a great deal since those heady days just before the London Olympics.

And that is where the two Jubilees part ways. 

The Torah tells us that the Yovel year will leave a much greater impact on the inhabitants of the Land of Israel:

Leviticus 25:23

And the land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is Mine; you are merely migrants, visitors to Me.

Leviticus 25:39-43

If your brother becomes poor and sells himself to you, do not work him as a slave.  He shall abide with you like a hired worker or a resident worker and work for you until the Jubilee year.  Then he and his children, shall be free to leave you and return to their family and ancestral land—For they are My servants, whom I brought out of Egypt; they cannot be sold as slaves.— Do not rule them harshly with heart-breaking labour; fear your God.

Rabbi Sacks ztl in the last book published during his lifetime, ‘Judaism's Life Changing Ideas’ wrote the following regarding the laws of the Yovel year:

The Torah is making a radical point.  There is no such thing as absolute ownership.  There is to be no freehold in the land of Israel because the land belongs ultimately to Gd.  Nor may an Israelite own another Israelite because we all belong to Gd and have done so ever since he brought our ancestors out of slavery in Egypt.

To the Jewish people, the Yovel wasn’t just another Jubilee.  It wasn’t an occasion to break out the finest China and bunting and hold a street party.  It was an opportunity to remind ourselves of how precious freedom is.  How land is but a commodity that can be bought and sold.  At the end of the day, our lives mean so much more when we are able to live them amongst the people we love, in the bosom of our families.  It was an opportunity to spend an entire year readjusting to the kind of life that we thought we could never experience again.  This is what the Jubilee really entailed. 

At this moment in time, we don’t know exactly when to celebrate the Yovel because the last recorded celebration occurred 150 years before the destruction of the first Beit Hamikdash.  The Rambam wrote that a Yovel would only take place with the arrival of the Moshiach when all of the Jews would be living again in the land of Israel.

Until then, we will have to make do with Coronation Chicken over Shabbat and Cheesecakes on Sunday and Monday.

In the words of our prayers regarding the Queen:

"In her days and in ours May our Heavenly Father spread the tabernacle of peace over all the dwellers on earth and may the redeemer come to Zion; and let us say Amen.”

Shavuah Tov.

01 May 2022

Parshat Acharei Mot: The Olive Tree

 

In loving memory of my mother, Bryna Rouge bat Yechiel ah

Last week, Stephnie and I visited a very dear friend of mine who lives with her husband and two daughters in Bet Shemesh.  We have known each other since we were teenagers which, without giving away our respective ages, is a long time.

The family lives near some green belt land and at the top of an adjacent hill lies the monastery of Bet Jamal.  The name of the area seems to be derived from the ancient burial ground of Rabban Gamliel I who was the head of the Sanhedrin. 

During a pleasant tea on their front lawn, the four of us discussed hiking up the hill to a mysterious 'olive tree' that they wanted me to view.

My friend’s husband and I proceeded to make our way through a field and then up the incline to our destination.  As we approached the tree and were about to reach it, he asked me to close my eyes before entering the clearing it occupied.

I have to say that I was intrigued.  What could be so special that required such a move?  I dutifully complied and after leading me by the hand for a few minutes, he asked me to open my eyes.  The sight that greeted me was quite overwhelming.

There, standing before us was an olive tree that has been reckoned to be more than two thousand years old.  It has a circumference of over 8 metres (25 feet) and twisted roots that snake around the tree deep into the ground below.  It is truly a marvel to behold, as you can see from the picture below.  Words cannot describe its presence and form.  It was simply breathtaking.

We both looked at the tree and marvelled at its structure and age.  How much has it seen in two millennia?  Has it acted as a hideaway for our ancestors in a land that has seen so many conquerors?  Has it survived a multitude of brush fires that threatened its very existence?  We noticed that a fungus was growing on some of its bark, yet it was managing to heal itself.

My new hiking partner explained how inspired he becomes each time he encounters 'his tree' and the reaction of those he takes along to pay a visit.  You know when you are in the vicinity of greatness and this tree was simply magnificent.

I found it difficult to tear myself away from the spectacle.  As we descended the hill, we looked at the beautiful vista which took in the different neighbourhoods of Bet Shemesh.  Halfway down, we paused to daven Mincha whilst viewing the rapidly setting sun.

On our way back, he told me about his parents and how his mother had been a survivor of Bergen Belsen.  I shared my own family history and noted that his wife was also the daughter of a hidden child who had been saved in occupied France. 

Last week witnessed both the first Yartzheit of my dear mother on Tuesday and Yom Hashoah on Thursday - the day in our calendar when we remember those of our nation whose lives were stolen and whose relatives were uprooted.  Hundreds and thousands of years of history were wiped out in the blink of an eye.  Millions of human trees were torn from their deep roots, never to be seen again.

And all the while, this olive tree stood stoically and witnessed from afar the catastrophe that was taking place.  Another incomprehensible event in the span of its gargantuan lifetime.  Perhaps it cried tears by shedding its leaves.  Perhaps it felt that the people it had seen exiled two thousand years ago would never return.  Perhaps it just hoped to cling onto its own dear life by extending its roots even deeper into the shaky ground that had been its home for longer than the lifetime of any human being.

Two thousand years after the people who might have planted it had perished, their descendants whose own families had been cut down, returned to marvel at its resilience and refusal to be defeated.  My friend, her husband and I are living, embodiments of the second generation who have survived the Shoah.  She is Israeli, he is Australian and I am British.  Three wandering Jews and a tree which has never left its place of origin.  Is that not a description of what is means to be a Jew?

The olive tree, whose outstretched roots allowed us to sit in its lap reminded us that it was one of us.  There have been many who would have liked to wrench our roots out of the spiritual soil that has kept us alive since Avraham set up his tent in ancient Canaan.  They have never succeeded. 

For we are like that old tree.  The more you tug at our leaves, the more we dig our heels in.  Perhaps that ancient tree is the perfect metaphor of what it means to be a Jew. 

Long may it continue to flourish.

Shavua Tov.



Parashat Vayechi: Legacies and Values

Dedicated to the memory of Daniel Rubin zl Yankel and Miriam have been married for seventy years.   Sitting on what will soon become his d...