Personal Parsha Prose

Warning: This Dvar Torah may upset people with strong feminist views.

Parshas Matos-Masai begins with a topic that, on first read, might seem troubling to a modern-day woman. After one verse (30:3) stating that a man who makes a vow is required to uphold that vow, the Torah goes into a rather detailed explanation of the vows of women and, some might say, how easily those vows can be nullified. 

Bamidbar 30:4 begins with basic terminology: v’eesha ki tidor neder – If a woman makes a vow… but the first example is quickly explained to be a woman still living in her father’s house for reason of her youth. This woman, living in her father’s house, can make a vow or a self-imposed obligation and must keep it…unless her father objects (30:6) that day. If she has taken it upon herself while single and then gets married, her new husband can nullify that vow (30:9). Verses 11-17 describe the similar rules that apply to a married woman making a vow or a self-imposed obligation but in more detail, details that offer us great insight into the importance of communication in marriage. 

The husband of a woman who makes a vow has the ability to nullify the vow of his wife, but only if he does so within the day of hearing of her vow. This, it should be pointed out, is an interesting use of language. The nullification does not have to occur on the day the vow was made, but rather on the day that her husband learns of the vow. She is not, it appears, under an obligation to tell her husband about her vow, which allows her time to lay down the foundations for him to understand her actions so that when he does learn of them, he will not object. 

The Torah is then very explicit: “If her husband offers no objection from that day to the next, he has upheld all the vows or obligations she has assumed: he has upheld them by offering no objection on the day he found out” (30:15). 

The Torah goes to great length stressing that the husband has one day to object to the vow or self-imposed obligation. If he objects two weeks later, or even two days later, he shall bear the guilt for every time his wife does something contrary to her vow or obligation. 

The Torah wants marriage and family to succeed. It recognizes a dynamic in the pairing of male and female for him to seek a sense of being respect and her to seek affection and “protection” (yes, this is a broad generalization and a far more complicated discussion). The husband is given the role of head of the house because he needs that respect. That role does not mean he is greater/she is lesser. It is practical in that, until most recent history, a man’s role was to be protector and provider. He needed a strong sense of importance to do his job well, a sense of others depending on him. This need has not changed, even in the world of white-collar jobs and two income families. Torah philosophy consistently defines the masculine as the giver, and the giver thrives on being needed and respected for his efforts.

The feminine, on the other hand, is the receiver and thus the one who feels fulfilled by being given to. These definitions create the dynamic brought to fruition in halacha for a “Head of the Household.” This dynamic is precisely the issue at play in the question of vows, and the unstated solution to a sense of restriction is communication. 

It is easy to see the subject in these pasukim as seconding women, except that there are some very specific words that show it is not about women per se but about a woman’s place in her family. The first halacha stated above is for a woman living in her father’s household due to her youth. This may set off concern to the modern-day reader, but the actuality is clarified in the Shulchan Aruch: “After six months of adulthood (physical maturity as defined by halacha), she is fully independent, and the father no longer has authority over her vows” (Shulchan Aruch Yoreh De'ah 234:1). One could

Parshas Pinchas is a parsha that focuses on bravery and heroism, on stepping forward in order to ensure that the correct path is followed. The greatest heroics in Parshas Pinchas, however, are not the remembrance of Pinchas’ act of casting his spear at the unabashed Zimri and Cosbi. Rather, the greatest act of bravery came from Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza.

The story of the daughters of Tzelafchad is well-known. They requested of Moshe that they inherit their father’s portion in the upcoming allotments of the Promised Land. Moshe asked Hashem what to do. Hashem not only stated that the sisters were correct but set out the laws of inheritance to include daughters when there is no male heir. 

The sages note that these women were “wise, they are interpreters [of verses], and they are righteous. [That] they are wise [can be seen from the fact] that they spoke in accordance with the moment, (they presented their case at an auspicious time). As Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzḥak says: Tradition teaches that Moshe our teacher was sitting and interpreting in the Torah portion about men whose married brothers had died childless, as it is stated: “If brothers dwell together, [and one of them dies…]” (Bava Batra 119b:).

Bamidbar Rabbah 21:11 states: “What was their wisdom? It is that they spoke at that moment when Moshe was engaged in the portion of the inheritances: ‘To these the land shall be distributed’ (Bamidbar 26:53). They said to him: If we are like a son, let us inherit. If not, let our mother be subject to levirate marriage.” If a woman who bore a daughter did not need to go into a levirate marriage, then one could understand that a daughter had rights to inheritance like a son when there is no son.

Their claim was not a fancy or a whim but a complex aspect of halacha. Their goal was similar to the goal of the levirate Marriage – that the name of their family would not be lost to history. 

We don’t often think of something like a legal assertion as being heroic, but what happened with the daughters of Tzelaphchad was as brave as that which happened with Pinchas. Pinchas knew the law and carried out that law by killing Zimri (and Cosbi). The daughters of Tzelaphchad knew the law and stood up to declare that it need to be enforced. 

They did something incredibly difficult and brave. They stood up and spoke out for themselves. 

This may not seem like such a brave thing, but it is something which should not be dismissed. The other recorded times in the Torah when someone approached Moshe with a challenge or a request things didn’t turn out so well (the spies, Korach, the complainers). The Or HaChaim notes that the Zohar in Parshas Balak comments that the daughters confronted Moshe with others around because they were worried that he would hold a bias against them. He writes: “Why would [women] who have been described as righteous by the Talmud assume that Moshe had hatred in his heart against them or their late father? … It is possible that they were afraid that just as with the people who had complained in Parshat Beha-a-lotcha, as well as the spies who had forfeited their inheritance in the land because they had raised their voices against Moshe and against G'd, Moshe would rule similarly against them on account of the sin of their late father” (Or HaChaim on Numbers 27:2:3).

The real bravery was not overcoming their fear of bias, however. Rather it was that these women saw that the law needed to be clarified and they did not leave it for someone else to speak up. Whether we like to discuss it or not, approaching the ...

Parshas Balak is, perhaps, the most narratively oriented parsha in Sefer Bamidbar. There are no sections of law nor any descriptions of ritual acts. There is the story of how Bilaam tried to curse the Jews, and, really, that is all.

The story of Bilaam’s attempt to curse the Jews reverberates throughout history, just as the blessings that came out of his mouth continue to inspire and empower us. As with all of Torah, parshas Balak helps us understand the world a little better – and in this case that means learning more about the insidious nature of our enemies, of the people who hate Bnei Yisrael without even really knowing Bnei Yisrael.

While reading Parshas Balak, it might be easy to assume the primary enemy of Israel is Bilaam. As wicked as he was, and as desirous as he was to curse Bnei Yisrael, Bilaam was a tool, a weapon…a proxy. Bilaam was the face of evil, but he was in his position because of a puppet master – Balak. 

Balak ben Tzipor’s name is mentioned over and over again in the Parsha, but mostly as he responds to Bilaam. Balak isn’t interesting. He doesn’t actively negotiate, he doesn’t talk to his she-donkey, and he doesn’t speak to Hashem. Nevertheless, the actual enemy  - the one who outrightly seeks to malign the Jews - is Balak ben Tzipor.

In the year 5785/2025, we can all too well relate the idea of a hidden evil that works through proxies. Money is power. Balak used his wealth to entice Bilaam into action; Iran used their wealth to supply their proxies with weapons. And it didn’t matter how many times God said no or that the proxies were defeated, the enemy does not stop. 

Balak ben Tzipor is not introduced as the king of Moav. This information is only revealed in pasuk daled (4). Rather, the Parsha begins “Balak son of Tzipor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites. Moab became terrified of the people, for they were numerous…” (Bamidbar 22:2-3). There is a man, and there is a people. The man saw that the Amorites had been defeated, and he chose to ignore the fact that the Amorites were the ones who attacked. Bnei Yisrael asked only for safe passage. They were attacked and then they were victorious, and to Balak that was not normal since the Amorites had been powerful enough to overtake parts of Moab. Balak the man saw that this small, wandering nation had defeated Sichon, and he inflamed his nation to fear. 

Balak ben Tzipor was afraid of Bnei Yisrael because he understood that this was beyond natural. Balak was, according to the Midrash, a sorcerer in his own right. Indeed, from his name it is deduced that his magic was connected to birds (Tzipor). Interestingly, in some cases of Biblical word play, it is acceptable to look at a word with a tzadi and read it as a samech, in which case tzipor (bird) becomes sipor – story.  Such a name transformation explains, perhaps, Bamidbar 22:4: “Moab said to the elders of Midian, ‘Now this assembly will devour everything around us, as the work-bull devours the greens of the field.’ Balak son of Tzipor was king of Moab at that time.” But Bnei Yisrael had not gathered on their border with the intention of attacking. They wanted safe passage. Neverthless, Balak ben Tzipor a man with no great strength, was afraid and built a story about these people.

Balak fed his people a story, which increased their fear: “Moab dreaded the Israelites” (22:3). The Moabites took that fear and brought the story forward such that now the Israelites become devourers… and by the time Balak has sent his messengers to Bilaam, the Israelites are “a people that came out of Egypt; it hides the earth from view, and it is settled next to me” (22:5).

According to this message, the Children of Israel seemed so numerous that they covered the world. No hyperbole there? The Torah states in 22:1, at the end of last week’s patsha, “The Israelites journeyed and camped in the plains of Moab, across the Jordan River from Jericho.

The Jewish nation has spent the last nearly two years in a high state of alert and war. Throughout all of this, we persevere, and now we have come again to a parsha that is laden with history. Parshas Chukas is most famous for its focus on the red heifer. However, other than teaching us, directly, about the importance of observing chukos, laws for which we have no rationale, this parsha contains a fascinating reminder of the national journey and how rarely it was smooth. Taken together, the second section of Parshas Chukas draws a global picture of the challenge of being a nation dedicated to maintaining emunah and bitachon. 

 Following the precise directions for the service of the red heifer, the parsha records a series of short but detailed events.  Miriam dies, and with her death, the source of water disappears. This brings the first complaints. The cry of the people is answered with a miracle as Moshe and Aaron bring water from the rock. This is followed by their interaction with the Edomites, who are left in peace even after they were inhospitable. 

 Let us pause and take that apart:

The people were disheartened by the loss of one of their spiritual leaders. They saw the physical effect her death had on their world, and they were shaken. They were unable to see a way to bring back something attached to someone on such a spiritual high; they were unable to envision that they could strive toward such collective merit. They received a miracle, but that miracle came at a price in which they learn that even their greatest can make a mistake. This was followed by a confrontation with an enemy who did not show them respect and from whom they turned away and avoided. And while they went around Edom because Hashem commanded them not to fight with Edom due to their relationship, it felt, perhaps, as if they were avoiding defeat. Certainly, one can imagine, their rerouting around Edom felt like a disheartening delay.

 The Torah then continues with Aaron’s less shocking death (less shocking because Hashem prepared the nation that he would be gathered to his fathers). He transfers his office to his son, but his loss is devastating to the people, as was Miriam’s. Shortly thereafter, they are involved in a skirmish with a group whom the Midrash explains were Amalekits dressed as Canaanites. These soldiers of the king of Arad manage to take captive(s) but are then defeated. Regardless of this victory, however, the people complain once again about their lack of provisions – more specifically about their boredom with the manna. The consequence of this complaint – snakes - is also resolved with a miracle, that of Moshe’s snake-enhanced staff that ends the plague per Hashem’s word.

 Seen together, we once again see how the loss of a great leader, the trauma that loss causes to the people, is not just on the metaphysical realm, where a channel to holiness has closed, but on the morale of the people as a whole. The first sign of this shift is, interestingly, in the language used to describe the skirmish with the men of the king of Arad (see Bamidbar 21:2-3).

 Why are they making a vow to Hashem, and why one worded like a bargain? Why are they ignoring who they are and the fact that Hashem has promised to be with them. The answer is, perhaps, that they no longer felt certain. 

 When there is a lack of morale, when people are stuck in a “why us” mindframe, there is often a waning of emuna and bitachon. When there is a lack of morale, the people complain: “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water” (Bamidbar 21:5). When there is a lack of emuna and bitachon, the problem goes deeper: “and we have come to loathe this miserable food” (ibid.).

The parsha of Shelach is one that reverberates through history. It is, as is commonly known, the source of Tisha B’av, as the day that the Jews cried out their fear of entering the Promised Land was the 9th of Av; and, alas, throughout history, Hashem has given us reasons to feel true sorrow on that day.

Parshas Shelach is a parsha from which one can mine deep hashgafic questions and delve into the relationship of Klal Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael. This year, however, it seems almost cavalier to discuss the situation in Eretz Yisrael, as if it is minimalizing the events taking place, chas v’shalom. However, not noting the important connections to this week’s parsha would, perhaps, be obscuring an opportunity to work on ourselves as individuals and as a nation.

One of the most frequently spoken of lessons from Parshas Shelach is one of distorted reality and the power of language. The scouts returned and described what they saw in such a way as to disparage the land and make it seem as if a terrible fate awaited them. And the nation believed them… and cried… and were punished. We often wonder how this could have happened - how leaders of the shevatim could have forgotten everything Hashem had done for them and seen such a negative space. 

The sin of the scouts has been writ large in 5785. It hasn’t been just our enemies who have vilified klal Yisrael, but our own fellow Jews who have joined rallies that distort reality and spread lies, that repeat old tropes of anti-Semitism in a new light. What started as a sliver of negative voices persisted and grew throughout the last almost 2 years, and it has an effect. Doubt begets doubt; people are drawn to a negative world view and a sense of doom - just look at the news. 

Noticing the effect of these voices, however, is a reminder to Klal Yisrael that our view of the world - of world events and of personal events - should be filtered with the lens of bitachon. 

One of the primary concepts that are drawn from Parshas Shelach is the importance of understanding emunah and bitachon. On the verge of entering the Promised Land, the people asked Moshe if they could send men to scout out the land. They spoke of their motive as a need to know what they would be facing, as a lacking in themselves, but they were projecting. They were not doubting their abilities; they were doubting the divine promise. Their emunah was strong; they did not doubt Hashem as the ultimate power. What was lacking was their bitachon, their belief that Hashem intercedes for them in the common actions of mankind. Bnei Yisrael could believe in miracles, especially after they had lived through so many wondrously- miraculous situations, but they had trouble believing in the continued manifestation of that help. They looked at the world from their perspective only and neglected to remember the basic bitachon. What we perceive as miracles are simply larger demonstrations of what Hashem does every moment of every day of every life. 

This is all too relatable to 5785. In truth, this lesson is relatable in all times - not just in crisis. It is all too common to believe in Hashem and to believe in His guidance of the world, while, at the same time, not truly trusting what the future will bring. Bitachon in its highest practice is understanding that Hashem will make the best future for you (whether it is what you want or not does not always reconcile). We try to view the world as if it is in our control, but far, far greater guidance is always at play.

The world at large wants to believe that they have control, that they have power. They want to attribute their successes to themselves alone (and their defeats, of course, to someone else). Those who have joined the ranks of Hamas supporters, who chant terrible slogans and look the other way, deliberately, at acts of violent anti-Semitism believe the reality they are looking for rather than the r

Do you know what happened on the 20th of Iyar, the second month of the year when you count from Passover. Before you invest time trying to remember all your high school classes or to rack your brain thinking of a holiday that falls on the 20th of Iyar, know that it is a date with a rare status. It is in the Torah, but it is not a chag. 

The 20th of Iyar was the day the Jews left Horev, left the base camp around Har Sinai. It was a big deal. They weren’t leaving Har Sinai with the intent to go wander in the Midbar for 38 more years. They were heading for the Promised Land. 

What is interesting is that the Torah provides us with such a specific date. One might think that it was something we would continue to note, that there would be some spiritual resonance as we see on so many other specific dates. Wasn’t Hashem assembling us and setting us in motion an indication that we were ready?

Bnei Yisrael probably thought so. They probably thought they had resolved their issues.  I mean, look at the time frame: They had been at Har Sinai almost an entire year, and that can feel like a long time. True, a little over forty days after they arrived they had undone themselves with the Chait Haegel, but there had been repercussions – deaths – and there had been heartfelt teshuva. Moshe had returned again to the mountaintop for another forty days, and thus the first 100 days (roughly, obviously) had passed. 

To a human being, one year (and we see this is less) can feel like an incredibly long period of time. And while research may suggest that it takes two months to form or break a habit, changing deeper personal issues, such as addiction, requires a much longer commitment. Bnei Yisrael’s habits had changed. They seemed more present and capable on the externals because they were more focused on the right actions and goals, but deep down they had not truly repaired their weaknesses. Bnei Yisrael only looked ready on the surface. From the very chapter where we are set in motion, we see the fading of our spiritual resilience. Hardly had the nation set out then the complaints began. Most famously, from this week’s parsha, is the demand for meat. There was literally food falling from the sky and a raucous group of people wanted to know where the McDs was, so to speak. 

So why did we go? Why did Hashem begin the journey since, surely, He understood Bnei Yisrael’s true state? Perhaps the answer is that the journey had to start. Ready or not here I come, as we all say in childhood. You can’t grow if you stay in the same place. You have to take the journey in order to get to the destination. You have to fight your own inclinations in order to really change. 

Moshe, a man, was frustrated and distraught by the continual complaints and weaknesses of Bnei Yisrael, as we see in Bamidbar 11:11-15

Moses said to God, “Why have You treated me, Your servant, so badly? Why have I not found favor in Your regard, that You place the burden of this entire people upon me? ......I cannot carry the responsibility of this entire people alone, for it is too hard for me.If this is the way You want to treat me, please kill me first, if I have found favor in Your regard, so that I not see my evil.”

Hashem’s anger, perhaps, was not at their actions but at the frustration at the fact that so many of them were not doing the necessary internal work that was necessary. He did not care that they wanted meat; He cared that they thought He could not provide it. He cared that they could not see beyond the immediate and the physical when the going got tough – and it wasn’t that tough. 

Parshas Bamidbar: Organizing Ourselves for Society

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Sharon bas Shoshana, and Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah

Do you get the sense that the world is “messy” right now? Like there was a period, perhaps even less than a decade ago, when it felt like the world was starting to come together as a cohesive-ish unit (okay, barring Israel and the Divinely ordained disconnect), but now everything seems to be breaking down? Certainly, there is a sense from the news (which, of course, loves to poke and enflame problems) that law and order has dissolved in Western Society.

This week, we are brought back to Sefer Bamidbar. In English, this sefer is known as the Book of Numbers because it opens with a counting of Bnei Yisrael. The beginning of Sefer Bamidbar is about something incredibly important on a more global scale. The first parsha of Sefer Bamidar is about order.  This week’s parsha not only covers Moshe taking a census (because knowing how many people one has is important), but also appointing tribal leaders, providing placement instructions for each tribe during encampment, and organizing the specific jobs for maintaining the Mishkan.

These events, this parsha, is placed in time, according to the Chabad.org source, one month after the inauguration of the Mishkan and several weeks before the Jews will depart from Mount Sinai…” At Har Sinai, our nation was forged into a unit. We received the Torah, and that was wonderful, but we couldn’t move forward in living a full Torah life until we put into place the necessary systems to do so. 

In just a few days, we will celebrate Shavuos, that holiday the commemorates and celebrates receiving the Torah on Har Sinai. The Torah is a blueprint for living, for fulfilling our spiritual tafkid (purpose). Many mitzvos put order to the spiritual world, but here Hashem made certain that we put order to the physical world of our people as well.

It is often said that the politics swings like a pendulum. A leader takes things too far to the left, and the right swoops in to correct. In far too many situations, the swing of that pendulum is extreme. Chaos on the left; Suffocation on the right – And most people, really, just wanting to live in the moderate middle (or a little the right or a little to the left). From Parshas Bamidbar we are reminded that for society to move forward, we must stop and take stock of who we are, organize ourselves for our strengths, choose good leaders, and only then can we begin to move forward. 

This was short, sweet -  I hope- and probably a little chaotic, but I hope it gave you a sense of connection to the parsha and the times we live in. I wish you all a good Shabbas and a Good Yom Tov.

Bein adam l’chavero, the mitzvos between one person and another, are the bedrock of civilization. More than that, these Torah’s mitzvos are – to be blunt – fascinating in their constant application to every aspect of life. 

This week’s parsha, Behar-Bechukosai starts with the laws of Shmittah, during which the Jewish nation demonstrates their deep trust in Hashem and their Divinely imposed respect for the land. It then moves on to the laws of the years of Yuval, Jubilee, and through that discusses the many limitations of selling property in the Holy Land. Basically, in summary, one can really only lease land on a pro-rated scale as it must revert to its original portioning at the coming of the Yuval. 

 Through these discussions of real estate, however, comes the very significant commandment of Al Tonu Eish Et Ahav – you must not cheat one man to another. 

 From here come the laws connected to Onaas Devarim, using words to hurt another. These laws cover such subtle issues as misleading a salesman that you might have the intention to buy something when, in all honesty, you are simply price comparing. You cannot give a fellow Jew the impression that you are going to give them business on false pretext. That, of course, is just one example. The unfortunate “opportunities” for onaas devarim are…multitudinous, almost as vast as the opportunities for lashon harah and rechilus, and the primary reason for this is that most of us have an incredibly difficult time being truly mindful of our speech and actions. 

 The idea of “vexing” – of causing hardship or wrongness – is so important that it is mentioned twice in the same perek, which seems a little odd. In pasuk 14, it says: “When you sell property to your neighbor, or buy any from your neighbor, you shall not wrong one another.” Three pasukim later, in verse 17, it states: “Do not wrong one another, but fear your God; for I Hashem am your God.” This verse uses different language than Pasuk 14. It uses Lo instead of Al. Both are Hebrew words, and both share a basic word meaning foundation (indeed, they are both composed of only an aleph and a lamed), but they are subtly different. 

 In the first verse, it is an immediate command – Al Tonu – Thou shalt not. When you are in the middle of your land deal, when you are thinking about how much profit you can make or what corners can be cut, there is a mandate upon you to think of what is being done to the other person.  

 In the second verse is Pasuk 17: “Do not wrong one another,” Lo Tonu puts that onus on the person to prepare to avoid ways of hurting others. The first verse could lead one to mistakenly think that this injunction against “wronging” is only connected to business, to real estate specifically, but Pasuk 17 comes to make certain it is clear that it is remembered throughout all aspects of life.

This might leave the question of why there are two pasukim when the second covers it all. This goes back to the subtle difference between al and lo. Al is a reminder in the moment, when an “impossible-to-resist” opportunity is sitting in front of you and you know you can make a clear profit, but that profit will be to the excessive cost to your fellow. That is when you must remember that our goal in life is to emulate Hashem, to do good in the world…not to make the most profit. 

 In the plethora of laws that are laid down in the Torah, simple statements like “Do not wrong one another” are easy to pass over. We read it and almost shrug in our conviction that this is not something that we do anyway. But in our day to day lives, amid the constant navigation of family, friends, community, and business, it is easy to focus on ourselves and our needs. We need ...

 Vayikra focuses on the kohanim, Aaron's sons, but we take the laws and information in there and see how it applies to the larger nation as well. Parshas Emor opens with the oft-discussed restrictions on the family members whose funerals a kohain may attend. For some, it seems shockingly restricted. Attending a funeral is a means of demonstrating love and true respect for the departed, and that that should be denied feels, from certain perspectives, almost cruel. 

 Something that feels cruel, however, does not, in Torah law, supersede that which is necessary. It is necessary for the kohanim to maintain their distance from death because it affects their ability to serve in their role of spiritual channel.

 Kohanim were meant to live their lives differently than the rest of Klal Yisrael - not better, not worse, just differently. Differently, however, can be abused. Differently can cause society to split into haves and have nots, and it seems as if, perhaps, in the first half of Vayikra 22, the Torah is making certain to guard the Kohanim from falling into an abuse of their status. 

 Vayikra 22 begins: “Instruct Aaron and his sons va’yinazaru from the sanctified donations of Klal Yisrael and not to profane My holy name; these that they dedicate to Me, I am Hashem.” Va’yinazru is an interesting word that is interpreted in one place as ‘to be scrupulous” and in another as “they must abstain” and in the Rav Hirsh translation as “keep themselves apart from.”

 The Kohanim received the offerings of Klal Yisrael, and it is very clear from other halachot that once an item is sanctified for donation, it holds a unique status. Some of that which is donated to the Mishkan/Beis Hamikdash is burnt up in sacrifice and some is given to the Kohanim to consume. From an outside perspective, this may seem to offer the Kohanim a rather substantial boon. After all, at the most basic level of all trade is the need to gather food, and here the Kohanim have food delivered to them. 

 Vayikra 22 protects the Kohanim from abusing their largesse. First, the parsha makes clear that a kohain in a state of impurity may not eat from the consecrated food. Although it did not take long for a kohein to purify himself, it is still a reminder that he is at this table purely because of his unique role. More significantly, the Torah delineates that the sacred donations may not be eaten by a layman, by a non-kohein who is residing with the kohein, or by a hired worker of the kohein. A slave owned by the Kohein may eat. 

 These laws emphasis that the right to consume the consecrated food should not be taken lightly. One might also see in this the idea that the access a Kohein has to the consecrated food, which was of the highest quality meats, could not be used for outside influence. A Kohein could not invite a neighbor from whom he wanted a favor, a potential business partner, or even his future son-in-law if he wasn’t a Kohein, to partake in this food. This food, Hashem is stating is for you and yours alone. 

 But what of the daughters. The Torah clearly states that if a Bas-Kohein marries a layman, she may no longer eat of the sacred gifts. The only way she would return to her family’s consecrated feast would be as a childless widow or divorcee. And now, once again, it could be argued that this feels cruel. 

 According to the Torah, when a woman marries, she becomes part of her husband’s tribe. A kohain's wife, whether born into a family of kohanim or not, may eat of the consecrated food, so too the daughter of a kohain who becomes part of another tribe may not. There is equivalency. There is in this also a level of protection from lower scruples. For most of history, marriages were arranged based on a perspective of benefits to each party. By stating outright that a bas-Kohein becomes of the other tribe, it nullifies...

This week’s parsha is Parshas Acharei Mos Kedushim. It is well known that this double parsha has an incredible number of mitvos in it. Many of these mitzvos make perfect sense to us, such as revering our parents and not swearing falsely. Others need a little more explanation. Like most things in the Torah, however, taking a deeper look at these mitzvos, reading the parsha from a different angle – so to speak, provides a new perspective on the world. 

One law that does not appear to need explanation is “Anyone among the Israelites, or among the strangers residing in Israel, who gives any offspring to Molech, shall be put to death; the people of the land shall pelt the person with stones…” (Vayikra 20:2). Molech was the deity figure of a cultish religion in the region of Israel. The followers of Molech practiced child sacrifice; they sent their children into the flames.

It is fair to say that it is inconceivable to us today that someone would sacrifice a child, that people would join a cult that specifically required one to burn a child to death. Children are the future. 

Actually, Jewish tradition is intriguingly bi-lateral: On the one hand, we believe that our elders and those who came before us are closer to Torah and are to be given absolute respect. As it says, also in this week’s parsha: “You shall rise before the aged and show deference to the old; you shall fear your God: I am Hashem” (Leviticus 19:32).

On the other hand…Well, don’t get in the way of a Jewish mother… so many of our halachos are focused on teaching our children and preparing them for the future. Every child is a bracha, a gift from Hashem, so how is it possible that anyone would be tempted to join a cult that glorifies killing children?

The answer is zealotry. Misdirected zealotry turns people into monsters. The Torah has made clear that Hashem wants people to celebrate life, not death. And we see this distinction even in modern times. Think of the famous Golda Meir quote: “We will only have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.” Far too many young people have died in the last year and a half conflict, and we – as a nation – grieve every death, even as our enemies embrace it. 

Zealotry leads one to embrace a death cult; perhaps such drive stems from an insatiable desire to prove one’s fervor, to demonstrate one’s righteousness. Perhaps it is a drive that comes from wanting to experience a tangible sacrifice, something one can always hold on to and announce how loyal one is, what one was willing to sacrifice. Yet, as we learned in the recent parshios and as is vaguely referenced in the title Acharei Mos, Hashem does not want uncalled for offerings. 

What happens when one “wakes up” from zealotry, when one calms and looks to move forward in life. If one acted like a zealot but followed one’s own council, then the next step might be regret. If one acted like a zealot and offered one’s child to the powerless false god of Molech, then one might feel anguished over the possibility destroyed. 

And now, if you think about it, it makes sense that the 4 pasukim in Vayikra 20 that are stressing the prohibilion against Molech are followed immediately by, “And if any person turns to ghosts and familiar spirits and goes astray after them, I will set My face against that person, whom I will cut off from among the people” (20:6). We often find connections between side-by-side passukim, so how does turning to ghosts and familiars connect to Molech? Perhaps this pasuk is alluding to causing death and regretting it. Perhaps these two verses are set against each other because when the mania of zealotry comes down, one may be so bereft as to seek out the dead. 

Interestingly, Vayikra 20:6 is not ...