Parshas Vayelech contains one of the grimmest moments in the Torah. Sefer Devarim has seen some dreadful curses, but no moment in the Torah is quite as deflating as G-d's declaration that the Jews would sin and that G-d would forsake and hide from them, and then when the Jews would realize that they had done wrong and say, Ki Ein Elohai Bekirbi, Because G-d is not among us, Motzuni Haraot Haeleh, these things have come upon us. (Devarim 31:17). And instead of welcoming back his people, G-d responds with, "And I will surely hide my face on that day." That's the opposite message of the Shabbos Shuva drashos of so many Rabbis delivered on the Shabbat between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. It's far away from all the assurances that G-d is only waiting for us to return, to take the first step and be welcomed and forgiven. It seems hopeless. To understand it though, let's take a step back. Parshas Vayelech is foremost about the Torah. The Torah rarely discus

At its most basic level, Tisha B'av is meant to make us uncomfortable. We are forced to sit on the floor, to hear a recitation of atrocities, to fast, to be plunged into depths of sorrow and to be served from normal social intercourse. Is the purpose of this merely mourning? Let's consider for a moment the sequel to Tisha B'av. It's Purim. Some 70 years after all the atrocities that we read, the Jews are living comfortably, they're feasting and partying with Ahasverosh. Only a tiny minority have come back from exile to rebuild Israel. When the next crisis arrives, it catches them by surprise. Within 70 years they've gone from the horrors of Eicha to the comforts that we read at the beginning of Megilat Esther. And this phenomenon did not happen overnight. The horrors of Eicha gave way to a comfortable status quo. Most Jews forgot about Israel. They moved on with their new lives in a new empire. We read the Eicha accounts at a distance. The Jews in Sush

Parshas Acharei Mot begins with G-d telling Moshe to tell Aaron after the death of his sons not to just walk into the adobe of G-d and then moves on to a discussion of the Yom Kippur service. What is the relationship between these two things, the death of Aaron's sons and Yom Kippur? Earlier, Aaron's sons had committed a sin. They had died. This seems like the natural order of things. A grievous enough sin leads to death. But instead G-d informs Moshe and Aaron of Yom Kippur, and beyond it, of the larger idea that G-d forgives sins. And that this is a major function of the Kohen. The priesthood is not meant for personal aggrandizement. The Kohen should not simply feel free to make himself at home in G-d's house. Or to take arrogantly take on privileges as if he were entitled to them. He is there to represent the people before G-d. And this is the function of the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur. He asks G-d for forgiveness for their sins. At the root of the death of Aaron&

The most obvious question to ask about Pesach, the remembrance of Jewish slavery in Egypt, is why was it even necessary? Its origins go back to the Brit Bein Habetarim, the Covenant of Parts, which G-d forges with Avraham. And yet the same forefather who pleaded with G-d urgently for the sake of the people of Sodom never utters a single plea on behalf of his descendants. Why is that? The covenant is preceded by a unique event. G-d tells Avraham that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars. And then we are told, VeHeemin, Avraham had faith in G-d and G-d considered it as a righteous merit. Religiously habituated readers may wonder what is so extraordinary that believing what G-d tells you should be considered righteousness. And yet, if we look back at the story of Avraham, it is the first time that faith is mentioned. Indeed it is the first mention of Emunah, faith, in the history of mankind. There were righteous men before Avraham. And yet they are not associated with fa

Parshas Metzora begins with the purification of the Metzora, the sufferer from the spiritual disease known as Tzaras. The Metzora's partner in the purification ritual is the Kohen and though the two men seem far apart, one a pariah who must shout his uncleanliness to the world, and the other, a priest who is obligated to maintain a high level of purity, the rituals have a similarity to them. Like the Levi, the Metzora's hair is shaved off. Like the Kohen's ritual with blood, oil is placed on his ear, thumb and foot. The very ritual requires an encounter between the Kohen, who is required to maintain ritual purity, and the Metzora, who is the embodiment of ritual impurity, and the former subjects the latter to a ritual similar to that undergone by the original Kohanim. The Kohen and the Metzora are both set apart from the community. Both are displaced from the conventional life of the community. The Kohen's role reserves him for a higher function. The Metzora has fal

Parshas Tazria dedicates much of its time to a discussion of the Metzora, widely but inaccurately translated as leper, who suffers from Tzaras. One of the more peculiar laws of this spiritual affliction is that someone who has been quarantined as a Metzora is deemed to be getting worse if healthy flesh emerges, but pure if his entire body turns white . A similar paradox is that of the Red Cow whose sprinkling purifies one who came in contact with a corpse, yet renders the sprinkler impure. This is considered a Hok, a law whose reasoning utterly eludes us, as it did King Shlomo, who reportedly aspired to understand it, but failed to do so. Why does a man become 'impure' when he appears to be recovering and 'pure' when his whole body seems afflicted? Why does the act of rendering an impure man, pure, make a pure man, impure? The nature of purity and impurity remains beyond our understanding. The paradox calls to mind a more familiar one, why do good people suffer

Parshas Shemini begins with the words Vayehi Beyom HaShemini. We learn that the opening Vayehi, And It Was, portends a mixture of tragedy and joy. As in Vayehi Yaakov, that saw Yaakov reunited and living with his son Yosef but in exile and as a prelude to slavery. Shemini begins with the final dedication of the Mishkan, on the eight day after seven days of Moshe Rabbeinu performing the Avodah, bringing the Korbanot, Aaron steps into his role as Kohen Gadol, brings the Korbanot and as both brothers leave the Ohel Moed at the conclusions, they are privileged to see the Shekihna appear. A heavenly fire consumes the Korbanot. But Vayhei, though there is celebration there is also tragedy. Two of Aaron's sons bring an alien fire and are killed by fire from heaven. Moshe tells Aaron that with this event the word of G-d, Bekrovai Ekodesh, has been fulfilled. Moshe warns his brother and the remaining sons not to leave, not to mourn and to eat of the Mincha. Aaron and his s

Parshas Shemini begins with the inauguration of the Mishkan, the tabernacle, and the death of Aharon's two sons for offering Aish Zar, an alien fire, which G-d had not commanded. The obvious question is why did Aharon survive his role in the Golden Calf, which was idol worship, while his sons died for merely taking the initiative in making a change to the Divine service? And why does G-d's response focus on "holy and the common, and between the unclean and the clean" and then shift to an extended list of kosher and non-kosher animals, described as unclean, and then purity and impurity, before finally returning to the death of his sons six chapters later? Impurity and uncleanliness exist as part of the cycle of life. A non-kosher animal is only bad if you eat it. Impurity is only bad if it taints something pure which then goes on to taint something holy. Impurity in a human being can be removed, in part through the procedures laid out in the Torah. It becomes a

Zachor is the scriptural remembrance of Amalek's attack on the Jews after leaving Egypt which culminates with the Haftorah, the prophetic reading of King Shaul's war on Amalek, his disobedience before G-d and his rejection as king over Israel. It is read before Purim, which marks the third confrontation between Israel and Amalek. This week it coincided with Parshas Vayikra, which lays out the laws of many of the sacrifices. Zachor's Haftorah also revolves around sacrifices, the captured animals from Amalek that Shaul decided to bring as sacrifices instead of destroying them as G-d had commanded. Some wonder why Shaul was punished so harshly with the loss of his kingship for a seemingly light offense. He disobeyed the Divine commandment to destroy all the animals, but he quickly conceded that he was at fault. He sought no personal gain from the loot. Why was G-d's rejection of him so total? Shmuel's rebuke of Shaul contains what will become an ongoing theme i

Parshas Tetzaveh is notable mainly for the sheer mass of instructions for constructing the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, complete with exact measurements. The modern man may reasonably ask, why G-d would care how many cubits each component of the building needs to be or why the amount of loops and threads must be specified. Do the technical schematics of a building really matter to the Creator of the Universe? G-d had designed the entire universe from the quark to the cell, but did such exactitude here really matter? The building of the Tabernacle was the climax of the redemption from Egypt. In some views, it was a recreation of the revelation at Mount Sinai. In others, it was atonement for the golden calf and the loss of faith that occurred when it appeared that Moshe had been gone for too many days and was believed to be dead. The count of the exact amount of days had been gotten wrong. We see something similar discussed in the Gemara, Talmud, in Berachos. The Gemara wonders why M

The Midrash famously comments on the splitting of the sea that the sea "saw" Arono Shel Yosef, the bones of Yosef and split in his merit. Is there any basis for such a reading in the Torah? Right before the sea splits, some Jews famously scream at Moshe, "Were there no graves in Egypt that you took us out to die in the wilderness?" (Shemos 14:11). This can be read as poetic phrasing, but it could also be viewed as a taunt in response to Yosef's casket proceeding forward. A casket being carried forward could have inspired the taunt of, "Were there no graves in Egypt". We are told that Moshe personally took Yosef's bones with him. (Shemos 13:19). Did Moshe, who was then quite old personally dig up or carry the bones? Unlikely, among other things it would have made him tameh/impure. But it does suggest that the casket had a pride of place in the procession. Certainly if the sea split in response to it, it was at the front. But we know that