Two Documents, 1,900 Years Apart

This is the story of two historical documents: a letter written 1,900 years ago, and a video of a phone conversation I received a week ago in my family chat. The young man speaking in the video had never heard of the ancient letter. Still, remarkably, both documents carry the same message: the unwavering will of the Jewish people to fight for their land, and their dedication to the precepts of the Torah in the most critical moments.

Let’s start with the video. One of my wife’s younger sisters lost her husband to cancer about 20 years ago, when their youngest son was only three years old.

She lives in Ashdod and has four sons and a daughter. The oldest served in the army and now handles security (Bitachon) in his settlement, very close to Sderot. The second served in an intelligence unit of the Israel Defense Forces. The third, 30 years old, is currently serving as a reservist (Miluim) at Zikim, a military base near Gaza. It is a warehouse (machsan) that runs the army’s supply chain of ammunition, food, clothing, and other necessities.

The youngest son is fighting in Gaza alongside the troops in Jabalia, a Palestinian city in the north of the Strip. Israel plans to evacuate civilians from northern Gaza, about one-third of the Strip, and turn it into a closed military zone under Israeli control. About 200,000 Palestinians remain in that area, and terrorists hide among the civilians and prepare ambushes against Israeli soldiers from there. Israel is making significant efforts to clear the area of terrorists. Unfortunately, several Israeli soldiers have been killed in Jabalia, including the Druze colonel Ahsan Daqsa, commander of the 401st Brigade, the highest-ranking officer to fall since the beginning of the war, who died today, October 20, in a tragic explosion.

My nephew is a very young soldier. His face still has the innocence and purity of a child, which even the harsh army life has not managed to change. He wears a large white knitted kippah, and long pe’ot peek out from under his green helmet.

A few days ago, I received a video in the family chat. In it, his older brother, the reservist, is talking on the phone with him. I cannot share the video for security reasons, but I will share part of the conversation.

First, the older brother identifies himself by his combat name. Then he says something like: “Right now I’m taking care of getting lulavim and etrogim for you and your battalion. I want to make sure you subdue the enemy, so shake them in all directions, but especially toward the heavens (kivune shamayim).” Then, more casually, he asks, “How are you?”

“Barukh HaShem,” the young soldier replies. “Today I spoke with our oldest brother. He said he would bring some lulavim to Mom in Ashdod.”

“Yes, I know. He was here in Zikim, and we brought some sets here too.”

When I saw this video, it gave me chills. Why? Because my mind traveled 1,900 years into the past.

The last time the people of Israel had an army, before the establishment of the State of Israel, was around the year 130 of the common era, in the days of Bar Kochba. Since the destruction of the Bet HaMikdash in 68, the Romans had ruled the land of Israel, and Jerusalem was in ruins. In 117, Emperor Hadrian came to power, obsessed with ending the Jewish people, and he gradually restricted religious practice. He first banned Berit Milah (circumcision) under penalty of death, then outlawed the observance of Shabbat, and later the study of the Torah. Around the year 129, unhappy that Jews kept observing the Torah in secret at the risk of their lives, he planned his greatest provocation: an idolatrous temple in Jerusalem dedicated to the Roman god Jupiter.

At that moment, a brave Jewish leader named Shimon Bar Kochba decided they could not stand idly by. He organized a revolt against the powerful Roman Tenth Legion to regain their national and religious freedom. Miraculously, Bar Kochba’s makeshift army succeeded and destroyed the mighty Roman legion. They recaptured Jerusalem and even minted coins that read, “Year One of the Liberation of Jerusalem.” These coins were minted for three years, which means that during that time the Jews regained their religious independence.

Then the unexpected happened. Hadrian’s hatred of the Jews was so great that he brought his entire army, the most powerful in the world, to fight them. His troops came from Britain, Gaul (France), and Germania (Germany). This reminds me of what Hitler did in 1944: while losing to Russia, he diverted resources to deport 500,000 Jews from Hungary to Auschwitz, at the expense of the Russian front.

After a heroic struggle that lasted years, Bar Kochba’s army was defeated. Many historians believe that despite the military defeat, Bar Kochba triumphed. Thanks to his struggle, a pagan temple was never built in the holy city, which would have been the greatest possible affront and humiliation to the ruins of the Bet HaMikdash.

Bar Kochba was not only a military leader who fought Israel’s enemies. He also guided the people of Israel to fulfill the mitzvot and embrace the Torah.

A few decades ago, the famous Israeli archaeologist Yigael Yadin discovered, in the caves of the Judean desert, a letter written on behalf of Shimon Bar Kochba himself. In it, the Jewish leader writes to one of his fighters to request some essential supplies:

“From Shimon to Yehuda: … I am sending you two donkeys and two men. Take them to Yehonatan bar Masabla … and have him load the donkeys with palm branches [lulavim] and etrogim and send them back. He should also send other men to bring myrtle branches [hadasim] and willow branches [aravot] to our camp. Make sure the tithe (ma’aser) has been separated. Send everything to the camp, [because we need a large number of lulavim, as] our army is very large. Shalom.”

In the video and in Bar Kochba’s letter, we see the same pattern. In the middle of a war, a general or a soldier of the Jewish army steps away for a moment from critical military matters to attend to something more urgent: making sure the fighters have lulavim and etrogim to celebrate Sukkot.

Because both in the days of Bar Kochba and today in Gaza or Lebanon, what is at stake is not just a military operation to reclaim territory or defeat the enemy. It is the unwavering will to remain Jewish, to observe our Torah, and to keep our connection to God and to the land He gave us.

Chag Sameach.

First, Rafael identifies himself by his combat name and then says something like: “Right now, I’m taking care of getting the lulavim and etrogim for you and your battalion. I want to make sure you subdue the enemy, so aim (your prayers or the lulav movements) in all directions, but especially towards the heavens (kivune shamayim).” Then, more informally, Rafael asks, “How are you?”,” Baruch Hashem,“ replies Shmuel Yosef, “Today I spoke with Shimon. He said he would bring some lulavim to [mom in ] Ashdod.“.  ” Yes, I know, Shimon was in Zikim, and we brought some sets [of lulavim] here too,“ replies Rafael.

When I saw this video, it gave me chills. Why? Because my mind traveled 1,900 years into the past.

The last time the people of Israel had an army, before the establishment of the State of Israel, was in the year 130 of the common era, in the days of Bar Kochba. Since the destruction of the Bet HaMiqdash in 68, the Romans had ruled the land of Israel, and Jerusalem was in ruins. In 117, Emperor Hadrian came to power, obsessed with ending the Jewish people and gradually restricting religious practice. He first banned the Berit Milah (circumcision) under penalty of death, then outlawed the observance of Shabbat, and later the study of the Tora. Around the year 129 CE, dissatisfied that Jews continued to observe the Tora in secret and risking their lives, he planned his greatest provocation: to build an idolatrous temple in Jerusalem dedicated to the Roman pagan god, Jupiter.

At that moment, a brave Jewish leader named Shimon Bar Kochba decided they could not stand idly by and organized a revolution against the powerful Roman Tenth Legion to regain their national and religious freedom. Miraculously, Bar Kochba’s makeshift army was entirely successful and destroyed the mighty Roman legion. They recaptured Jerusalem and even minted coins that said, “In the first year of the Liberation of Jerusalem.“ These coins were minted for three years, meaning that during this time, the Jews regained their religious independence.

But then the unexpected happened: Hadrian’s hatred of the Jews was so great that he decided to bring his entire army, the most powerful in the world, to fight against the Jews. His troops came from England, Gaul (France), and Germania (Germany). This event reminded me of what Hitler did in 1944, when, losing against Russia, he decided to allocate his military reinforcements to deport 500,000 Jews from Hungary to Auschwitz and abandon the Russian front.

After a heroic struggle that lasted years, Bar Kochba’s army was defeated. Many historians consider that despite the military defeat, Bar Kochba triumphed because, thanks to his struggle, a pagan temple was never built in the holy city, which would have been the greatest affront and humiliation possible to the ruins of the Bet HaMikdash.

In addition to being a military leader who fought against Israel’s enemies, Bar Kochba guided the people of Israel to fulfill the mitzvot and embrace the Tora. 

A few decades ago, the famous Israeli archaeologist Yigal Yadin discovered a letter written in the handwriting of Shimon Bar Kochba himself, found in the caves of the Judean desert. In that letter, the Jewish leader addresses one of his combatants to request some essential supplies.

The letter reads: “From Shimon [Bar Kochba] to Yehuda: … I am sending two donkeys and two men. Take them to see Yehonatan bar Masabla… and they should ask him to load the donkeys and bring them back with palm branches [lulavim] and etrogim. He should also send other men to bring myrtle branches [hadasim] and willow branches [aravot] to our camp. Make sure the tithe (ma’aser) is already separated. Send everything to my camp. [Remember that we need a large number of lulavim, as] our army is very large. Shalom.”

In Rafael’s video and in Bar Kochba’s letter, we see the same pattern of behavior. In the midst of war, a general or a soldier of the Jewish army distracts himself momentarily from critical military matters to attend to something more urgent: ensuring that their fighters can have lulavim and etrogim to celebrate the festival of Sukkot.

Because both in the days of Bar Kochba and now in Gaza or Lebanon, what is at stake is not just a military operation to reclaim territory or defeat the enemy, but the unwavering will to remain Jewish, to observe our Tora, our connection to God, and to the land He granted us.

CHAG SAMEACH.

Understanding the Concept of Eruv

It is permitted to cook on a Jewish holiday (Yom Tov), as we learn from Exodus 12:16: “…No work shall be done on these days [=Yom Tov], except to prepare food for everyone to eat; this alone may be done.” However, our sages explained that it is only permitted to cook on Yom Tov what will be consumed during Yom Tov; one cannot prepare or cook on Yom Tov food that will be consumed after that particular day. Therefore, when a holiday falls on Thursday/Friday, as it does this year, we are not allowed to cook on Yom Tov for Shabbat unless we prepare an eruv tavshilin.

The eruv tavshilin consists of:

• Preparing some cooked and baked food before Yom Tov.
• Declaring that we are preparing this food for Shabbat.
• Keeping that food for Shabbat.
• Eating that food during Shabbat. This way, we begin to cook for Shabbat before the holiday starts, and we continue preparing that food on Yom Tov for Shabbat.

How Do We Do It? Following these principles, this is what we do:

Preparing: Today, Wednesday, October 23, in the afternoon before the Holiday begins, we should set aside a plate with some cooked food and a piece of bread and save this plate for Shabbat. This plate is what we call the eruv. Since some food has already been prepared for Shabbat before Yom Tov, the cooking that takes place during Yom Tov will be considered an extension (the word eruv in this context means “extension”) of the food that was already prepared before the holiday began.

Declaring: The following blessing is recited while holding the plate with the food (eruv) in one’s hands: “Barukh Ata A-donay E-lohenu Melekh ha’Olam Asher Qiddeshanu beMitzvotav veTzivanu AL MITZVAT ERUV” בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’ אֱ-לֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו, וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל מִצְוַת עֵרוּב Then, the following text is recited, establishing that by preparing this eruv, we are permitted to do all necessary work and cook on Yom Tov for Shabbat: בַּדֵין עֵרוּבָא יְהֵא שָׁרֵא לָֽנָא לַאֲפוּיֵי וּלְבַשּׁוּלֵי וּלְאַטְמוּנֵי וּלְאַדְלוּקֵי שְׁרָגָא וּלְתַקָּנָא וּלְמֶעְבַּד כָּל צָרְכָּֽנָא, מִיּוֹמָא טָבָא לְשַׁבְּתָא.

Storing: After reciting the blessing, we place the eruv in a safe place or in the refrigerator and keep it until Shabbat.

Consuming:  For the eruv to be valid, we must eat that food at some point during Shabbat. Usually Seuda Shelishit.

The general practice is to prepare the eruv with a boiled egg and a piece of bread. Many people also add meat, rice, and other types of cooked foods to their eruv  .

It is the end of Yom Kippur, the moment of the Neila prayer. In the heavens, the Trial is about to begin. The Almighty is seated on His throne, ready to judge His people, Israel, and deliver His final verdict. In the center of the Heavenly Court is the scale that weighs Israel’s merits (zekhuyot) and transgressions (chobot). The final result will determine if the upcoming year will be good or difficult for Israel. There is much at stake. This coming year 5785 is a decisive one for the future of the Jewish people.

A tense silence is felt both in the heavens and on earth.

First, permission is granted to the prosecutor to present his arguments. He rises and begins loading the left side of the scale with the transgressions that the people of Israel committed in the past year. Sin after sin, he piles up offenses, both small and great, onto the scale. When he finishes, he steps aside. The scale is very heavy; it tips dramatically to the left, and an uncomfortable silence fills the air of the Court.

Next, permission is granted to the angels Michael, Elijahu, and Gabriel, the defenders of Israel, to present Israel’s merits from the past year.

The angels call seven witnesses,  Seven Jewish Patriarchs, to the stand to testify and present their case before the Almighty.

First, Abraham arrives, representing chesed (kindness). Abraham steps forward and reminds everyone that the past year was a year of war, imposed on us from Simchat Torah. The first patriarch brings with him all the acts of kindness performed by the people of Israel, who rose to the occasion: the doctors and nurses in hospitals who spent sleepless nights saving the lives of wounded soldiers; the security personnel who risk their lives to prevent attacks in civilian centers; the psychologists, social workers, teachers, and youth counselors who attend to grieving families suffering the worst losses. He then introduces the hundreds of thousands of volunteers who showed up during the war. The women of Nahariya who dropped everything to cook for months so that soldiers always had the best food available. And the hundreds of men who became volunteer drivers, transporting soldiers and reservists day and night. The volunteers who organized barbecues and delicious meals for the fighters returning from Gaza. The thousands of israelis who attended the funeral of loved ones, friends, or lonely soldiers that never met before their burial.  And those who supported wounded soldiers, visiting, accompanying, and singing for them. The ZAKA volunteers who, from scenes of unimaginable horror, recovered the last remnants of Jewish bodies that had been deliberately burned and mutilated. The solidarity of Jews in the diaspora who rose to the occasion, gathering and sending dozens of planes loaded with tons of equipment and clothing for the army. Those who organized and participated in solidarity trips. Those who donated and raised millions of dollars to the State of Israel and its army.

Next, Isaac, the olah temimah , the young man willing to sacrifice himself for Kiddush Hashem (the sanctification of God’s name), presents his case. Isaac places on the right side of the scale the 750 pure souls of Jewish soldiers and fighters who fell in combat since October 7. The soldiers who, on that fateful day, died defending their military bases with their last bullets, or those like Elhanan Kalmenzon, who came from the other side of Israel, from Judea and Samaria, to Kibbutz Be’eri upon hearing the news of the attack that morning, not waiting for orders, but acting to save Jewish lives at the cost of his own life. And the young soldiers who, in the bloody battles of Gaza, volunteered to go to the front and enter those houses filled with explosives. And the brave fighters who threw themselves onto live grenades to save their brothers in arms. And those fighters like Commander Arnon Zamora, who gave his life to rescue four hostages from Hamas. And the paramedics who ran through a hail of bullets to bring home their wounded comrades, or their bodies, from the battlefield. The scale begins to tilt heavily to the right.

Isaac steps aside, and then Jacob arrives, the patriarch who fought the angel of Esau and prevailed, though he was injured for life. Jacob brings with him the names of the 11,000 Israeli soldiers wounded since October 7. He places on the scale the wheelchairs, crutches, prosthetics, tears, and scars of their pain. He then piles on the physical or mental disabilities these young heroes will carry for life.

The weight on the right side is already unbearable.

Next comes Yosef and reminds everyone that he was a captive, thrown into a pit full of scorpions and snakes and later was imprisoned for two years, thinking he would never leave alive. Yosef brings the names of the 101 captives still held in Gaza: young women, men, and children who survive in dark tunnels or are hidden in damp apartments. Hungry, exhausted, abused, physically and emotionally tortured, desperate for rescue, praying for a miraculous salvation like Yosef’s.

At this moment, everyone steps back, and Moses, our teacher, enters the Court, carrying the Tora that bears his name. He shows that since October 7, Tora study and observance have revived like never before in Jewish history. He places on the right side of the scale hundreds of new Torah scrolls dedicated all over the world to the memory of fallen soldiers. He presents hundreds of thousands of Tefillin and Tzitzit worn by every Jewish soldier in battle. And the millions of Tehillim books they carry in their pockets. And the improvised synagogues in Gaza, and the new Sukkot in southern Lebanon, ready to celebrate the holiday. He adds the incredible resurgence of Judaism in the diaspora, in America, placing a recent picture of billionaire Bill Ackman who, less than a week ago, put on Tefillin for the first time in his life.

Moses introduces his brother, Aharon HaCohen, who taught us to be united and practice unconditional love among Jews. He places on the scale the solidarity and spirit of unity that Jews rediscovered after October 7. The new awareness that we are more than a people: we are a family. On the battlefield, soldiers discovered that there are no longer Ashkenazim or Sephardim, no left-wing or right-wing—only Jewish brothers fighting shoulder to shoulder, one for the other and all for the people of Israel, Keish Echad Belev Echad, like one person with the same heart. He also adds the new understanding that the diaspora communities and the Jews of Israel are one family. Aharon asserts that unity is our greatest strength and the scale tilts even more to the righ, and it is about to break.  A tense silence fills the room.

Then trumpets sound, and King David enters the Court: the poet and invincible warrior. David presents the noble generation of young soldiers, some of whom have just finished high school, who pounce on the enemy like lions. They are ready to FIGHT waging war on seven fronts—Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, Iraq, Syria, Judea and Samaria, and, of course, Iran. They are strong, very brave, and determined to defeat a ruthless enemy. They fight to protect our land and restore the glory of the Jewish people. They fight Bayabasha, Ba’avir, Ubayam—on land, in the air, and at sea—to eliminate Amaleq and proclaim: “Am Yisrael Chai!”

King David finishes his testimony, and suddenly, the doors swing open, and they burst into the Court. Footsteps are heard outside, and everyone stands as the four matriarchs of our nation enter. Sarah, Ribka , Rachel, and Leah approach the scale and place on the plate the names of the 750 mothers, Imaot Shekulot, who have lost a son in the war and whose cries of pain will never cease. And the hundreds of young widows who must now raise their three, four, or five children alone, without their beloved husbands by their side. And the prayers and tears of Jewish mothers who pray for their sons in the war. And the endless chapters of Tehillim they recite by the beds of their wounded sons in hospitals. The prayers of the women of the yishuvim (settlements) in Judea and Samaria, whose husbands are in the miluim reserves military service in Gaza for three, four, or five months. And who will be called again soon to fight in Lebanon. They pray at night when their children are asleep, begging God not to become widows, or during the day, while tending to their kids, pretending everything is fine so their families remain normal and not traumatized by the events of October 7.

The right plate of the scale now collapses under the weight of the virtues, merits, and prayers of the people of Israel.

Michael, Elijah, and Gabriel rest their case.

The Almighty seals the verdict for the Jewish people and declares that Israel has suffered more than what it deserves, and receives a  heavenly decree that 5785 will be a better year, a year of yeshu’ot, victories, and geulah, redemption.

What awaits us—and what we truly deserve—is the best year yet to come in our extraordinary history.

Shanah Toba,

Rabbi Yosef Bitton

In many communities, there is a Minhag of doing Kapparot in the eve of Yom Kippur, what is the best way to do the Kapparot, slaughtering a chicken or with money for charity?

First of all, we need to clarify that there is no Mitsva in the Tora to perform the Kapparot or any kind of animal sacrifice on the eve of Yom Kippur. In the days after the Bet HaMiqdash, as Maimonides explains, “en sham el-la teshuba,” there is nothing else but Teshuba to atone for our sins. Teshuba is a serious mental and emotional process of retrospection, which consists of the admission and confession of our flaws and bad habits, ultimately leading us to improve our behavior.

Kapparot is a practice that was initiated by the common people—not by the rabbis—at the time of the Geonim (800-1000 CE). The Kappara made with a live animal is supposed to help inspire our Teshuba. By witnessing the Shehita (slaughtering) of the chicken, we realize the extreme fragility of our lives, prompting us to do Teshuba and reflect on our own mortality. This is, by the way, the frequent explanation for the effect that the qorban, in the times of the Bet haMiqdash, had on the sinner’s consciousness.

However, soon after the custom of Kapparot became more popular, some prominent Rabbis like Ramban (Nahmanides) raised their voices against this practice. Maran Rabbi Yosef Caro (1488-1575), the author of the Shulhan Arukh, the supreme Code of Law for all Jews, explicitly disapproved of the practice of Kapparot with chickens on the eve of Yom Kippur, and he used very harsh terms. In the first edition of the Shulhan ‘Arukh (Venice 1565), it is written in the title of siman 605, where Rabbi Yosef Caro discusses Kapparot: מנהג כפרות בערב יום כפור מנהג של שטות הוא. “The custom of Kapparot on the eve of Yom Kippur is a foolish custom.” In later editions, the editors erased the last line (see the original edition of the Shulhan ‘Arukh here).

Why such opposition to the Kapparot?

First, as Nahmanides said: mishum darke haemori—”because it is similar to the practice of idol worshipers.” (Even today, many cults like Macumba, Vodoo, etc., use a small chicken as a sacrifice to their deities. You can Google, for example, “Eshu” or “Elleggua,” major idol-warriors of Santeria, who must be worshipped by sacrificing a small chicken).

Second, the fact that the Kappara performance resembles the Korbanot performance made many rabbis very concerned because slaughtering an animal as a sacrifice outside the Bet haMiqdash (haqrabat hutz) is a serious Biblical transgression. For this reason, many rabbis in the past forbade the consumption of the chicken that was slaughtered in this fashion (or intention) of a qorban. The Rishba, while still opposed to Kapparot with chickens, allowed eating the chicken, which was usually given to the poor, because it is not one of the animals that were offered as sacrifices in the Bet haMiqdash.

Third, since so many people want to do Kapparot on the eve of Yom Kippur, the Shehita might not be done with enough care and attention in terms of checking the knives and other ritual details. This is the point brought by Rabbi Obadia Yosef z”l (who in the past supported the Kapparot) to favor the performance of Kapparot with Tsedaqa (see this).

There is yet another problem, which should be of great concern when considering doing chicken Kapparot. Because of the great demand and the short time to slaughter so many animals, the chickens are too often mistreated in the process, left for days in cages without food or water. This is a serious transgression of an explicit Biblical prohibition instructing us to treat animals with respect and avoid unnecessary suffering (tsa’ar ba’ale hayim). The new Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi David Lau, addressed this issue last year (see here).

Lastly, if the person who does the Kappara would give the slaughtered chicken directly to a poor person, as was done in the past, then we could view this Kappara as a form of Tsedaqa. But people who perform the Kapparot often take seriously the idea of transferring their sins into the chicken, and therefore, neither they nor needy people would eat those chickens “full of sins.” Many of these chickens are not eaten but wasted. If one kills an animal unnecessarily (not to be eaten), one transgresses another explicit Biblical prohibition: bal tashchit, i.e., unnecessary waste of the blessings, in this case, an animal’s life, that God granted us.

In conclusion, the best way to do Kapparot is by giving Tsedaqa (charity for needy people). In this case, none of the above-mentioned problems would apply, and in addition, before Yom Kippur begins, you will be fulfilling the beautiful Biblical commandment of charity. This is a Mitsva with no negative side effects. On the contrary, Tsedaqa was regarded as the most important Mitsvat ‘ase, as Maimonides writes: “We have to care about the Mitsva of Tsedaqa more than [we care about] any other positive commandment” (MT, Matanot ‘Aniyim 10:1). Tsedaqa brings great zekhut (merit) to the giver and great relief to the recipient—וצדקה תציל ממות.

See this video where Rabbi Shelomo Aviner, Rosh Yeshibat Ateret Cohanim, explains the ways of doing Kapparot and mentions, among other things, that Rabbi Kaddouri z”l and Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach z”l did Kapparot with Tsedaqa instead of chicken (here).

אתם נצבים היום כולכם לפני ה’ אלוקיכם

DAY OF JUDGEMENT

Rosh haShana, the beginning of the Jewish New Year, is just a few days away. Starting a new year is naturally a cause for celebration and joy. But not everything is celebrations and festivities when it comes to the Jewish New Year. For the Jewish people, Rosh haShana is also a very serious time. To the point that the Sages spoke more, much more, of the serious aspects of Rosh haShana than of the celebratory aspects. The rabbis of the Mishnah (200 CE) explained that Rosh haShana is nothing less than the day of judgment (יום הדין). What is the trial about? Examining our own lives, if we are going the good way or the bad way. And who judges us? Ourselves, in the presence of God!

This idea, “being in the presence of God,” is alluded to in the first pasuq of this week’s Parasha, which somewhat anticipates what will happen next week on Rosh haShana.

Let’s see.

OBJECTIVE SELF-JUDGEMENT

The judicial process begins on the day of Rosh HaShana. When we enter the Synagogue in the morning, we should feel that we are entering the court of Law. The first challenge, and the most important one, is to identify the Judge who is present but is not easily “seen” . Why is it so important to discover the judge? Because self-judgment only makes sense if we evaluate ourselves objectively. And only when we are able to visualize that we are in front of God we might achieve objectivity. Why? Because He knows us perfectly. We cannot deceive Him, as one could fool a human judge. But “His Presence” forces us to be objective and prevents us from fooling ourselves. If we feel His Presence, our hearts will open completely before Him.

LIFE AND DEATH

Our Tefilot, prayers help us to open our eyes and discover the Judge. In the prayers of Rosh haShana we repeat over and over the keyword: “Melekh” (King, Sovereign) or Malkenu “(our King). For Jews, the King is also the legislator, the final authority and the Supreme Judge. Among other attributes, the King could condemn one of his subjects to capital punishment or suspend his execution. And this is the key idea of ​​Rosh haShana. Understanding that as a Judge, God can sentence us to lose our life during the next year, ח”ו. And on the contrary, if somehow our “destiny” ח”ו is capital punishment, HaShem can commute our sentence.

SHOFAR

The most special moment of Rosh haShana is when we hear the Shofar. Hearing the Shofar is like hearing the gavel, announcing that the heavenly court is in session. In ancient Israel, when a new King was crowned, the Shofar was blown to officially declare his new kingship. In the same way, when we listen to the Shofar, we declare that we recognize God as our King / Judge. And if we DO NOT take this idea lightly, we will surely feel paralyzed, in shock or with goose bumps (or shaking or crying), out of fear that the Judge will not consider that we deserve another year of life. Or we might feel ashamed since the Judge examining us knows us better than ourselves. If this happens, if we “tremble” when we hear the Shofar, it means that the Shofar is working well. And that we are correctly interpreting what its voice wants to tell us.

WAKING UP

While the Shofar sounds, we DO NOT have to admit guilt, confess, repent, or even ask for forgiveness. And I think it is unnecessary to explain that when one hears the Shofar, one should not “ask” God for any requests …. All of that is very important, but it should NOT be done when one hears the Shofar. As we listen to the Shofar, Maimonides says we should focus our efforts on “awakening”, that is, becoming aware that we are in God’s Tribunal, and we should make every effort to become aware of Who is presiding over the Court.

Imagine you are a scientist, and you have an exceptional opportunity: a wealthy investor trusts your abilities and has decided to invest one million dollars per year in you, believing that you will find a cure for a deadly disease. But the contract he offers you is not unlimited: it renews annually. Each new year, you must go to his office and present a report of your accomplishments. He will decide whether to extend your contract for another year or cancel it. In that annual meeting, you must excel. Your job—your future—is at stake. The investor is on your side. He won’t demand that you have achieved the final result yet. He understands that this type of work takes time and dedication. But to continue funding you, he will want to be sure that you haven’t wasted his money or time and that you are doing everything possible to make progress and reach your goal. It is crucial that when you have your annual meeting with the investor, you are completely honest with him, especially about what didn’t go well in the past year. Even though admitting your failures may be uncomfortable, the investor wants to hear you talk about them. He has a lot of experience and knows that there is no better way to prevent you from repeating those mistakes in the future than by verbalizing your errors and admitting them in front of him. If you cannot admit your mistakes or verbalize your failures, you may likely repeat those mistakes and waste another valuable year. In that case, you would become a “high-risk investment.” If that happens, the investor may consider withdrawing his funding… Therefore, it is essential to be honest about your mistakes to secure his support and renew your contract for another year.

We are just a few hours away from Rosh HaShanah, the day that commemorates the creation of humanity. Our sages explained that on this day, the anniversary of the creation of man, the Creator examines each human being. One by one. And decides whether we deserve to be “inscribed in the book of life,” meaning whether He will grant us another year of life. This is the fundamental idea of Rosh HaShanah. The court is in session when we hear the Shofar. Our first mission is to acknowledge the Judge (or King, which in ancient Israel was the same entity) accept His authority over us, and realize that our life depends entirely on Him. When we hear the Shofar, we should not ask for our lives or needs. It is a moment of awe and great solemnity. As Maimonides explains, the Shofar should “awaken us” from our lethargy and remind us that at this moment, it is God who is asking something of us: that we take responsibility for what we have done in the past and will do in the future. When the Shofar sounds, it is not the time to ask for forgiveness. The time to ask for forgiveness is during the seven days following Rosh HaShanah, especially on Yom Kippur, which is why it is known as “the day of atonement.” On that day, we will present our strongest arguments to appeal any negative verdict that may have been issued on Rosh HaShanah and convince the Investor/Creator that we are a profitable investment. And that if we weren’t last year, we will be in the coming year.

כי האדם עץ השדה

Debarim 20:19

Towards the end of this week’s Parasha, the Tora addresses the laws of war and teaches the Jewish soldier to behave with respect and dignity, even on the battlefield. One of the most notable details refers to not destroying the city or the fields without reason. Trees are specifically mentioned, suggesting they should not be seen and attacked as “the enemy.” The unusual language used by the Tora on this occasion lends itself to metaphorical interpretations that arise when comparing men and trees.

Today I would like to extend this comparison to the area of our children’s education (parenting) and reflect on the inexhaustible patience that this task demands.

At times, our children seem to stagnate, not maturing at the pace we hoped for. This concern intensifies when they have brothers or sisters who do seem to progress. Parents sometimes do not understand the influence of time on the development of our children and find themselves caught up in worries, suffering unnecessary tensions. We forget what an expert once mentioned: that most of the behavioral problems of children are resolved over time.

I remember certain students from our Talmud Torah: in fifth and sixth grade, they were a constant challenge. Restless, they kept talking and interrupting. They bothered their peers, disobeyed the teachers, and often the only solution was to send them out of the classroom. They spent more time with the principal than with their classmates. But, over time, after 15 years or more, I have seen many of these “unbearable” children transform into exemplary parents, successful entrepreneurs, brilliant professionals, or people with admirable religious discipline.

What happened?

They were maturing at their own pace or, as neurologists say, “the brain needed time to build and strengthen the connections between its areas and hemispheres”.

Having patience does not mean that we parents will sit around waiting —and praying— for our children to mature. It is essential that we are always there to talk, guide, and encourage our children. We must never stop doing it.

To better understand the growth process many of our children go through and understand our role as parents in this process, I would like to share with you the story of the growth of the bamboo tree.

Initially, it is essential to prepare the soil, choose an optimal location with enough light and moisture. Then one sows the seeds. During the first year, the soil with the seeds is constantly watered, but nothing visible happens. In the second year, it is watered and fertilized, but still, not a single shoot sprouts. The third year continues watering and taking care of the area, hoping to see some change, but there are still no signs of bamboo. In the fourth year, you look at the ground and see no progress. The fifth-year comes, and, seeing no results, one might think they have failed in their attempt to grow bamboo. However, surprisingly, in the middle of that year, the bamboo starts to grow rapidly and, in just six months, reaches an impressive height of up to 30 meters!

The million-dollar question is: How long did it take the bamboo to grow? The immediate answer seems to be “six months”. But in reality, it took the bamboo five and a half years to grow. That is, to break through the ground, literally, and begin to grow. And once it started, nothing can stop it.

It should also be noted that, although the progress was not noticeable, during those five and a half years, the bamboo was growing downwards: it was forming a robust root system capable of supporting its great size.

Our children often experience a process similar to bamboo. Their growth requires constant care, “even if the results are not noticeable”, with inexhaustible patience. Remember the bamboo: if, during the first five years, one had given up and stopped watering or protecting the bamboo, that tree would never have emerged.

Every word of encouragement we give them, even in their moments of rebellion or immaturity, is uplifting. They are like water to the bamboo. Our children grow and develop in ways we don’t see. We don’t know when that internal growth will begin to manifest outwardly and reach surprising heights, sometimes even surpassing their siblings, who seemed to develop more quickly.

Like bamboo trees, our children need us to nurture them with love and care constantly.

Over time, and with divine help, they will mature and flourish.

Rabbi Yosef Bitton