We want Mashiach whenever

A thought for Parshat Vayechi...

On his deathbed, the patriarch - son and grandson of men who knew the Almighty intimately, of women whose insight mirrored the Divine plan - pledged to entrust to his children the secrets of the universe. With little strength or time remaining, Yaakov summoned his children and intoned, "Gather, and I will tell you what will befall you in the end of days." Then, abruptly, the ancient sage altered his focus, speaking more neutrally, "Gather, listen, sons of Yaakov, and pay heed to your father Yisrael." (Bereishit 49:1-2) He continued to convey blessings, but spoke no more of the end of days.

Commentators offer a range of approaches to explain why Yaakov changed his plans, but perhaps we might offer our own answer by first asking a fundamental question: Why did Yaakov wish to inform his children of the "end of days", at all? What benefit would there be in telling them of the end of a story not to play out for thousands of years? Indeed, informing them could even be hazardous; might they, or their descendants, abandon the book, knowing that they would never live the last page?

Don Isaac Abarbanel suggested that the eternal question of "When will he come?" is rooted in our desire to escape our current suffering. In his Maayanei haYeshuah (1:2), Abarbanel catalogued the history of the Jewish longing to know when the end will come, noting that such figures as King David (Tehillim 74:10), Yeshayah (Yeshayah 6:11), Chavakuk (Chavakuk 1:2), Zecharyah (Zecharyah 1:12) and Daniel sought to know the date of Mashiach's arrival. He then wrote, "How could they not seek the Divine message, the time when He will come and be seen, in order to find tranquility for their spirits, to rest from their struggle, to flee from their trouble?" However, this does not explain how the sons of Yaakov, who knew no suffering in Egypt, would benefit from knowing the circumstances of Mashiach's arrival.

We might answer our question with a closer look at the Jewish view of history. In his work Zakhor, Professor Yosef Haim Yerushalmi noted that the modern study of history clashes with the traditional Jewish approach to studying history. As he put it, "To the degree that this historiography is indeed "modern" and demands to be taken seriously, it must at least functionally repudiate premises that were basic to all Jewish conceptions of history in the past. In effect, it must stand in sharp opposition to its own subject matter, not on this or that detail, but concerning the vital core: the belief that divine providence is not only an ultimate but an active causal factor in Jewish history, and the related belief in the uniqueness of Jewish history itself." In other words, the modern study of history contends that all events in history occur without an underlying plan or purpose. Traditional Judaism, on the other hand, insists that history is a story written by a Hand, progressing according to a specific plan, and with a particular end in mind.

Perhaps this was the understanding of human events that Yaakov intended to convey to his children, as he passed to them the mantle of leadership. The point was not to have them mark down on some millennia-long calendar that Mashiach would come in Tevet 5773. Perhaps the point was for them to understand, as leaders of the Jewish nation, that there is an "end of days" at all, that the events of their lives are invested with purpose. [Indeed, Yosef tried to tell them this himself, insisting that his sale had been according to a plan. Of course, even Yosef ("G-d sent me here to provide food") didn't realize the scope of that plan ("your children will be slaves in a land not their own").]

Nonetheless, G-d determined that Yaakov would not share this vision with his children, and perhaps this decision was motivated by their own welfare. People who are told that their lives and actions have automatic and inherent historical meaning, irrespective of their personal decisions, might abandon themselves to the determinism of Fate. If Mashiach is going to come in Tevet 5773, and my actions in 2255 will automatically play some butterfly's wing of a role in bringing about that ultimate hurricane regardless of my free will, then why should I value my own decisions and choices? Whatever will be, will be! Knowing how the story plays out could yield generations of Jews who would view themselves not as actors, but as acted upon; not as eventual redeemers, but as eventually redeemed. And so Yaakov's mouth is closed, and so King David, Yeshayah, Chavakuk, Zecharyah and Daniel were turned back, as was Don Isaac Abarbanel.

The information is there. The date is known. For us, though, it would be better that we not read the last page of the book; rather, it would be better that we write it.

In every generation (Derashah for 2nd day of Rosh HaShanah)

[I am somewhat out of practice in writing derashos, and as a result this one came out wordier than I would have liked, but I still found it meaningful for me, and I hope it will be for those who hear it on Rosh HaShanah this year.]

Avraham held the blade aloft, prepared to slaughter a son, a dream, a nation. The inspiring exodus, the revelation at Sinai, the mishkan hosting Gd in a home of human construction, the union of Jew and Land and Torah, the civilization of King David, the prophets and exile and redemption, the Messianic era, the very purpose of the heavens and earth - all of Creation hung in the balance while the old man steadied his hand…

…And a voice broke the silence: "Avraham! Avraham! Don't do it!"

A midrash asks: "Why does it say Avraham twice? Why not just say it once?" To which I would have simply replied, "This is too important a moment to trust to Avraham's 137-year old ears; call him twice." But the midrash sees further layers of meaning; R' Chiyya says Gd repeated Avraham's name to demonstrate urgency, or perhaps love. Another thought, recorded in a Tosefta, says it was to show that Avraham was loyal both before and after this Divine call.

But the most moving answer I have seen comes from Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov. Noticing that the same double-call happens in Tanach to Yaakov, Moshe and Shemuel, Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov presented a frightening, but inspiring guarantee.

Writing two thousand years ago with foresight encompassing the 21st century Jew, Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov declared, " אמר לו ולדורות, אין דור שאין בו כאברהם ואין דור שאין בו כיעקב ואין דור שאין בו כמשה ואין דור שאין בו כשמואל." Gd called these men twice because, "Gd spoke to them and, in the second mention of their names, to subsequent generations. There is no generation which lacks an Avraham, there is no generation which lacks a Yaakov, there is no generation which lacks a Moshe, and there is no generation which lacks a Shemuel."

Do not misunderstand Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov's words – he is not simply pledging that every generation will have righteous leaders or great prophets. Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov promised far more; let's look at the circumstances in which these four men were called.

Avraham's case is the one we just read – He is a patriarch who declares openly to Gd, "All of Your gifts mean nothing to me, without a son." He is married to Sarah, who wanders with him in pursuit of their dream, who puts her marriage on the line to provide a son, and who is finally rewarded for her patient righteousness at the age of 90. Avraham and Sarah have invested their lives in this child, their only child, their beloved child, Yitzchak – and now they are to give him up, the only gift that ever mattered now sacrificed to Gd.

Gd calls out to Avraham at his moment of sacrifice and tells him he need not sacrifice – and in doubling Avraham's name, He calls out to us, to our dream-sacrificing Avrahams, as well.

Yaakov spent most of his life on the run, in exile. First he was pursued by his murderous brother Esav, then he spent 20 years performing hard labour in the house of Lavan. He returned to Israel only to lose his beloved wife Rachel, have his daughter Dinah taken captive, lose his son Yosef, have his son Shimon imprisoned – even at home, he was not permitted to settle down. Finally, Yosef was restored, but at a price: Yaakov would need to enter exile yet again, to descend to Egypt.

At this moment Gd calls to Yaakov, "Yaakov! Yaakov! אל תירא מרדה מצרימה, don't be afraid to go into exile; it will not be a true exile. I will be with you!" And in doubling Yaakov's name, HaShem calls to us, to our exiled Yaakovs, as well.

And then Moshe, the Egyptian prince who turns fugitive after saving the life of a Jew. A price on his head, he flees to Midian, where he builds a small family with his wife Tzipporah, until Gd tells him, "Go back to Egypt, back to the land of a despotic Pharaoh, of slavedrivers and beatings and quotas. Leave your safety and security. I know you don't want to do it, but I am charging you to return to Egypt and rescue your nation."

Gd calls to Moshe at this moment of danger and rescue, "Moshe! Moshe! I am standing beside you!" And by doubling Moshe's name, Gd cries out to every Jew who has ever launched himself into danger on behalf of others, declaring, "You are not truly in danger; I am standing beside you!"

And finally Shemuel, young Shemuel, brought to the mishkan at the youngest possible age to apprentice to Eli, the Kohen Gadol, the religious giant of the generation. Shemuel is raised by Eli, who is his surrogate parent and mentor. Eventually Eli appoints him to serve in his household. But Eli's sons have sinned horribly, abusing their power, and Gd calls to Shemuel, of all people, to convey a message of harsh rebuke: "Go give your employer, your mentor, your surrogate father, a message that will make his ears ring. For his children's sins, for his own failure to instruct them properly, I am going to destroy his household entirely; they will be cursed forever, and they will never be forgiven." The entire priesthood is to be overturned, and the deaths will number in the thousands. Go, Shemuel, and give that message of rebuke and revolution to the man who is every authority figure in your life rolled into one.

G-d opens that mission by calling to Shemuel, "Shemuel! Shemuel! I am with you, I am the true author of the revolution and Eli will accept it; do not fear!" And by doubling his name, Gd calls to the Shemuels in every generation, saying, "Do not fear to speak the unpopular truth and revolt against authority; I am with you."

Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov saw in these doubled calls a message deeper and more far-reaching than the individual conversations of G-d with these patriarchs.

There are two Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov's, and I'm not sure which is the author of this midrash, but it hardly makes a difference – because both knew well the missions of the aforementioned men.
• The first Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov lived through the Roman conquest of Jerusalem, saw the starvation and disease of siege, followed by Jewish blood running in the streets.
• The second Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov was a student of Rabbi Akiva, and he survived the fall of the Betar fortress to Hadrian's brutal forces.

The author of our midrash knew the bitter truth of Jewish history: Avraham and his sacrifice, Yaakov and his exile, Moshe and his dangerous rescue, Shemuel and his revolution, are not one-of-a-kind.
• Every generation will see Jews charged with a mission of revolt against authority, whether the deposing of Rabban Gamliel in mishnaic times or the condemnation of poor leadership in the modern age.
• Every generation will see Jews face danger to save other Jews, whether by rescuing captives of the Romans or Jews living in danger in Ethiopia or Moscow or around the Middle East.
• Every generation will see Jewish families descend into exile, whether the refugees of 1st century Jerusalem or the refugees of 20th century Germany.
• And yes, Avraham, every generation will see Jewish mothers who send their sons into danger, whether in 2nd century fortresses or today's IDF.

Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov's read of the akeidah is horrific – it is a promise that the sacrifices are not over, that every generation will know this pain.

But, Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov also reassures us with a pledge: That in every generation, HaShem will be by our side, as He stood with Avraham, Yaakov, Moshe and Shemuel. We may not always see the protection as Avraham and Moshe and Shemuel did; Yaakov did not see the end of the story in his lifetime. But HaShem will be there by our side, HaShem sees all and He stands with us.

Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov's message is more than a prophetic vision, though – it is also an imperative. If Gd will stand with these righteous people, then we are obligated to stand with them as well.

When we daven on Rosh haShanah and Yom Kippur, even as we think about each member of our family, our friends, people who are sick and needy, we should also see those modern Avrahams and Yaakovs, Moshes and Shemuels in our minds:
• When we hear the shofar, as we will momentarily, we should daven for the mothers who continue Avraham's work, sending their children off to fight for the land and people of Israel.
• When we hear the shofar, we should daven for the Jews still at Moshe's work of rescuing other Jews, whether working for a government or for outreach agencies around the world.
• When we hear the shofar, we should think of Jews in Yaakov's exile, including ourselves in Toronto.
• When we hear the shofar, we should think of people who are carrying on the mission of Shemuel of rejecting the status quo and rebuking irresponsible leadership. [I recognize that this requires some fleshing out, but this is a derashah and not the venue for exploring the question.]

These are the people called by HaShem in that midrash, and on Rosh haShanah, having just read the story of "Avraham! Avraham!" we daven for them, declaring "We are with you," and appealing to HaShem to be with them.

Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov's message is about more than davening, though; Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov's message is also about responsibility and leadership. The person who sacrifices, who is in danger, who is in exile, who is charged with revolution, isn't always a "them" – It can also be us.

When we hear the shofar, we ought to ask ourselves what it is saying, what is it demanding. Is it only reminding us to stand with the Avrahams and Yaakovs? Or is it also summoning us to become Moshes and Shemuels? The midrash said it: Sacrificing and dangerous rescue, exile and revolt are not historical phenomena, they are modern and current and real.

When summoned by Gd, all of the biblical figures Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov cited offered the same response: הנני, "Here I am, ready to serve." Avraham said it. Yaakov said it. Moshe said it. Shemuel said it. When it is our time, when we are called, when we hear the sound of the shofar momentarily, let us make sure we say it as well. Hineini.

The Blessing of a Stiff Neck

[This is my article from this week's edition of Toronto Torah; sorry, no time to write something fresh for the blog these days. Five shiurim to give today. It's not my best writing, but it's an idea I love.]

Am k'sheh oref, the Divine description of Jews as a "stiff-necked people", was not originally intended as a compliment. It certainly was not a prescription, either! Rather, it was a statement of Divine frustration, kaviyachol, an epithet used by G-d three times over in the wake of the Golden Calf to justify His decision to separate from the Jewish people:

"They are a stiff-necked people; leave me alone and I will rage against them and destroy them” (Shemot 32:9-10).
"I will not ascend among you, for you are a stiff-necked people and I might consume you en route” (Shemot 33:3).
"You are a stiff-necked people; in a moment I will ascend among you and destroy you” (Shemot 33:5).

Nonetheless, the sages of the Talmud saw great value and Divine purpose in our stubborn strength. They described three brazen entities – Jews among humanity, dogs among animals, and roosters among birds - and they said of this brazen character, "Had the Jews not received the Torah, no nation could have stood before them." (Beitzah 25b; see also Maharsha there) Brash chutzpah can undermine our internal spiritual life, and in commerce among humanity it brands us as uniquely difficult, but it has been key in our Torah commitment and instrumental in our survival. No matter how hard we are hit, no matter how many ways we are hit, we keep moving forward.

A stiff neck has been the story of the Jew from the start. From the wilderness Jew who heard a Divine death sentence and yet marched forward to Canaan, to the Zevulunite who was vassal to the Canaanites and yet rallied to the call of Devorah and Barak, to the Aragonese Jew who was forced to sit through Christian sermons but raised his children to perform mitzvot, and so on through the centuries to our own day, Jewish history has not a trail of tears but a monument to courage. A frustrated Martin Luther wrote, "But the Jews are so hardened that they listen to nothing; though overcome by testimonies they yield not an inch” (Table Talk, Hazlet translation). He meant this as an insult, but we wear it as a badge far more native to our identity than the yellow stars and red hats forced upon us by Muslim and Christian governments from the ninth century CE forward.

This week we read the tochachah, a warning of horrific punishments which may befall the Jewish nation, should they depart from the service of G-d. Over the centuries, we have had many opportunities to compare our suffering to these Mosaic predictions. Whether the massacre of Jews by Roman forces two thousand years ago, the slaughter by Mohammed's armies at Khaibar in the seventh century, the pillaging of Jewish communities during the Crusades, the numerous expulsions from European lands in the Middle Ages, the Chmielnicki Massacres of 1648-1649, or the horrors of the Holocaust, we have endured not only the explicit tochachah, but also every inconceivable manifestation of its ultimate curse: "Gd will also bring upon you every ailment and every blow which is not recorded in this scroll of the Torah." As Prime Minister Begin noted to President Carter, in the Holocaust we were not merely decimated, we were tertiated– and we suffered such high ratios of destruction multiple times in our history.

Nonetheless, G-d designed the Jew with a boldness which cannot be cowed. It is a strength tailored to the demands of the Torah, to the high standards of personal conduct and spiritual achievement set by Avraham and Sarah. It is a brashness which makes us dangerous, but which also makes us capable of great heights. This is the double-edged sword of our stiff neck.

As we prepare to approach our Creator on the Day of Judgment, we would do well to look at our own indomitable streak and decide how best to harness that strength. Our brash chutzpah is meant not to sow discord among ourselves and undermine our service of G-d, but to defend against descent and to fuel our rise. Elul is the time to investigate the way we deploy our stiff neck, and correct our course as needed.

The tochachah appears twice in the Torah, once in Parshat Bechukotai and once in this week's reading of Ki Tavo. In the former it ends positively, with an invocation of G-d's covenant with our ancestors. The second edition seems to end depressingly differently, though, with a prediction that we will be sold as slaves and "ein koneh", "there will be no buyer." However, Rav Betzalel Zolty saw in this ending an upbeat note. He contended that the clause should be read, "there can be no buyer." A Jew, even imprisoned and enslaved, always retains his freedom. (Hillel Goldberg, Tradition 38:2) May this ever be so.

Why a rabbi teaches Jewish History

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]

I spent Shabbos in the beautiful and warm community of Hamilton, Ontario. It was Italian Shabbat, with a lunch featuring Italian foods, so I tailored my shiurim for Italian topics: The Badge, the Ghetto and the Printing Press: Jewish Life in Medieval Italy, Rabbeinu Meshulam ben Klonymus, Tosafot Rid and Rav Ovadia Sforno: The Torah of Middle Ages Italy, and Esav = Edom = Rome: Jews and the Catholic Church [we looked at Yosi ben Yosi's אהללה אלקי, as a theological polemic].

The trend of those topics toward Jewish History led several people to ask whether I was a History major in college, or, in the words of one, “Isn’t history an unusual topic for a kollel man?” The answer to the former is that I was an English major at first, and I concluded as a Computer Science major. The answer to the latter is Yes. And the answer to the unspoken question of, “Is this really within the Torah sphere of shiurim?” is, in my opinion, Maybe.

Certainly, learning חכמי אשכנז הראשונים or מסורת הפיוט or בעלי התוספות or Cecil Roth doesn’t impress the way that learning תקפו כהן does. And I wouldn’t consider Jewish History an appropriate topic for seder time. But at the same time, I think knowing history adds authenticity to any Torah study which relates to human beings – teshuvos (responsa), minhagim, tefillah (prayer) and more.

That’s how I first got into learning and teaching history – it was a matter of authenticity. During my rabbinic internship in Englewood, New Jersey (under the great Rabbi Shmuel Goldin) I taught a series on Science and Halachah, and I found that I was interested in getting the science right and teaching it as part of the shiur’s Torah. This made me more confident in my knowledge of the broader topic, and I think it also helped listeners feel more confident (correctly or incorrectly!) that I knew what I was talking about.

That practice of filling in the broader background carried over into other classes. For example, when I taught about halachic practices and minhagim of certain locations I also learned about the Jewish communities of those locations. When I taught classes about particular halachic themes – Jewish dress, for example – I also learned the relevant background.

As a second motivation, in my shul rabbinate I found that history was מושך את הלב, it drew people’s hearts. See Rashi to Shemot 13:5 - We are supposed to help people learn by starting with topics that draw their hearts. History does that; unlike during my student career, in which history was deemed dull, as an adult I found that people wanted to know the background of Jewish communities and their leaders. Not as gossip, but as fascinating information.

Certain people wouldn’t necessarily turn out for a class on the different approaches of biblical commentators, but they would absolutely come out to classes on the lives of those commentators, which would then lead to study about their styles as well. Many people would not necessarily come out for a series on The Laws of Shabbos, but they would turn out in real numbers for shiurim on Shabbat in 13th Century France, for example, and learn the relevant halachic debates along the way. So although I needed to spend considerable hours learning the history accurately and completely, the payoff was that it brought people in.

So I learn and teach History because I consider it a crucial part of authentically understanding and explaining Torah, and because it attracts people to shiurim.

There are lots of other, minor reasons, but those are the big two. And there’s one popular motivation I don’t share: I don’t believe that learning the lessons of history will keep us from repeating the errors of the past. Those who fail to learn the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them, but so are the rest of us. It’s just human nature.