Parashat Nitzavim
September 4, 2021, 27 Elul 5781
Torah: Deuteronomy 29:9-30:20; Triennial 29:9-30:20
Haftarah: Isaiah 61:10-63:20
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In this week's Torah Sparks, you'll find a D'var Torah on the Parashah by Ilana Kurshan called "The Torah’s Elastic Clause", Vered Hollander-Goldfarb poses questions titled "A Broken Covenant’s Next Chapter - Teshuvah" and Bex Stern Rosenblatt writes about "Speak Out" in the Haftarah.
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The Torah’s Elastic Clause
Ilana Kurshan
In this week’s parashah, Moshe reaffirms the covenant between God and Israel in the presence of all of the people, who are gathered before him on the steppes of Moav. The Torah stresses that every single member of every class of Israelite society assemble before Moshe, including “your tribal heads, your elders, and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer” (29:10). Even so, as Moshe notes, it is not just those who are alive at this particular historical moment who are included in the covenant, but also “those who are not with us here today” (29:14). The Talmudic rabbis, in discussing Moshe’s words to the people at the start of our parashah, explore the paradox of being present even in our absence, which is the basis for the transhistorical nature of the covenant and its enduring relevance.
The rabbis discuss the opening verses of our parashah in tractate Shevuot (39a), in the context of the oaths imposed by a judge on the litigants in a court of law. They explain that when the judge administers an oath, he informs the litigants that they are swearing not just in accordance with their own understanding, but also in accordance with the judge’s understanding and with God. Rashi explains that the judge is essentially saying that the litigants are being told that the ruling will not be dependent merely on their own understanding and feelings about the case, but also on the perspective of the judge—and the ultimate Judge. As proof, the Talmud quotes Moshe’s words from the opening of our parashah about how the covenant applies not only to the Israelites present before him — “not with you alone” (29:39) — but also to those who are not alive at the time. The use of this proof text suggests that the Talmudic sages regard the covenant between God and Israel as a court of law, in which Moshe, acting as judge, adjures the people to live in accordance with the laws of God’s Torah.
The rabbis in tractate Shevuot go on to explain that “not with you alone” means that the covenant in our parashah, which was a renewal of the covenant at Sinai, applies not only to those who stood at the foot of Sinai and on the steppes of Moab, but also to subsequent generations and to all future converts. The revelation at Sinai was such a powerful historical moment that it assumed transhistorical status; God’s voice, which resonated amidst the thunder and lightning on Sinai, would continue to reverberate throughout the generations. Just as those who stood at Sinai had affirmed that they would “do and listen” all that God commanded, so too, their descendants and all future members of the Jewish people were bound by that commitment.
But as the rabbis go on to teach, the Israelites committed themselves at Sinai to be bound not just by the laws given to them then and there, but also by “mitzvot that would be initiated in the future, like the reading of the Megillah.” The Israelites were agreeing to live in accordance with the laws they were given at Sinai, and also with new laws that would only be revealed in the future. The covenant between God and Israel thus included a sort of “elastic clause” stating that the Jewish people were accepting upon themselves all laws deemed necessary and fitting by the rabbis of subsequent generations, as the Jewish people and Jewish law continue to evolve symbiotically. As proof, the Talmudic sages cite the words from the end of the Scroll of Esther (9:27), in which the people “undertook and accepted upon themselves and their descendants, and all who might join them” to observe the holiday of Purim. As the Talmudic sages explain, the Jews in Shushan were “undertaking” what they had “accepted upon themselves” already at Sinai.
Why, of all new laws, do the rabbis choose the reading of the Megillah, and why do they cite evidence from the scroll of Esther? Perhaps the rabbis are trying to teach that just as God’s covenant applies even to those who were not present at Sinai, so too does it apply when God seems no longer present. It applies even to Purim, which is considered the classic example of “hester panim,” the hiding of God’s face, since God is famously absent from the Megillah. We are bound by God’s Torah even when God seems absent from the historical stage, and even when it seems difficult to feel God’s presence.
Like Moshe at the start of our parashah, we all have moments in life when we feel the presence of those who are not physically among us. Sometimes we will speak to our children and hear echoes of our parents’ voices; then we will realize that we are not just acting in accordance with our own understanding, but also in accordance with the way our parents raised us. Other times we will speak to our students and realize that we are channeling the insights of our own teachers, whose understanding informs our own. Our parents and teachers are present even in their absence, just as we were all present at Sinai even though we were not physically there. Likewise, all the laws that later generations of sages would derive from the Torah were also, in some sense, present in the original covenant. As our parashah reminds us, presence can extend forward in time to later generations who are bound by the covenant, but it can also extend back in time when we hear the voices of those who taught us, and those who taught our teachers, to the end of the generations. There is an eternal dimension to presence which may attune us to the presence of the Eternal, reminding us that God, in spite of God’s seeming absence, is present too.
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A Broken Covenant’s Next Chapter - Teshuvah
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Devarim 30:1-10
1It shall come to pass, when all these things come upon you, the blessing and the curse which I have set before you, and you shall cause them to return to your heart among all the nations where the Lord your God drives you, 2and you will return until the Lord your God and obey His voice,… 3and the Lord your God will return you from captivity,… 8And you will again obey the voice of the Lord and do all His commandments … For the Lord will again rejoice over you for good… 10if you obey the voice of the Lord your God, to keep His commandments …and if you return to the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul.
- How is this section related to the blessings and curses we encountered in the last parashah, marking the end of the covenant?
- Why would a clause like this, the option of teshuvah (return, repentance), be attached to a covenant/a contract? Is it a good idea to have an option like this? Why?
- According to this text, who is returning and to what?
Commentary: HaKtav VeHaKabala Devarim 30:10
To the LORD – previously (v.3) it said: “and you will return until the Lord your God” …and the reason for these changes (“to” vs “until”) is the difference in the reasons that brings one to teshuvah (return, repentance); whether it is out of fear of punishment alone, or out of love of the LORD. If it is out of fear of punishment, the sin is not completely erased. The meaning of returning “until” is like coming until the house – meaning close but a little distance away, for a person will approach the LORD, but the impression of a misdeed is still there. But in the teshuvah (return) that comes from the love of the LORD, the returnee will reach a higher level so the sins become like merits, and where people of teshuvah stand, perfectly righteous people cannot reach, for they are elevated to complete cleaving to the LORD; …this teshuvah will be accompanied with the word “to” – as a person who reaches a house and enters its interiors.
- What are the possible triggers for doing teshuvah? What is the relationship between these reasons, could they coexist or are they mutually exclusive? Which do you think is more likely to be the incentive? Which is more enduring? Why?
- Why do you think that the level of the person who has done teshuvah (returned) can be greater than that of a person who has been perfectly righteous? In what other areas of life could this thinking apply?
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Speak Out
Bex Stern Rosenblatt
Who speaks when you read Torah? Whose words are you saying and for whose sake are you saying them? In our Haftarah portion, Isaiah 61:10-63:9, the question of who is the speaker, the actor, is of central importance. Chapter 62 begins with the following verse, as translated by Robert Alter:
“For Zion’s sake I will not be still,
and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not be quiet,
till her triumph emerges like radiance
and her deliverance burns like a torch,”
The most obvious speaker for these lines is Isaiah, the prophet. Here he is, fulfilling his role as a prophet. By speaking, he brings about change. Read in this way, it is an interesting insight into what the role of a prophet is. The words of the prophet cause the triumph and delivery of Jerusalem. By refusing to be silent, prophets can change the course of history.
Ibn Ezra offers two alternatives as to who the speaker of these lines is: Israel in exile or God. As the passage continues, it develops into a dialogue between Israel and God, a call and response of sorts extolling God’s might. But here, in this first verse, it is unclear who the caller is. If Israel is calling, she speaks for herself. The nation in exile recalls the places she used to inhabit and for their sake, summons them once again into being. Similar to the prophet, Israel is able to change the world through words. She constructs a story that can become a reality, remembering the glory that once was to establish the glorious future that will be.
Something very interesting happens when we read it as God speaking. When we say that God creates worlds through speaking in the Tanakh, we are not being metaphorical. We are describing the literal plot of the beginning of the book of Genesis. God speaks and the world is created. Of course, it gets more complicated as the story emerges. God speaks and the story unfolds, but sometimes Israel is stiff-necked or Pharaoh is hard-hearted and humans are all together disruptive to the perfect unity between God’s speech and action in the world. By the time that we get to the first exile and then the return to Jerusalem, although God’s words from curses in Leviticus and Deuteronomy are being fulfilled, the path to get there has been so circuitous that it can be easy to forget that there is any connection between God’s speech and present reality.
Therefore, in this verse, when we read it as God promising that God will no longer be silent, we can understand God similarly to how we understood Isaiah or Israel in exile as the speaker. All three are attempting to change reality. All three need to weave a story to do so. The power of their words, of their refusal to stay silent, is what will change the world. This could be read this as a diminishment of the power of God. Why is God reduced to the same level as God’s prophet or God’s nation? But I choose to read it as an elevation of the nation. Here, in the final of the seven haftarot of consolation after Tisha B'Av, God and Israel finally answer each other, refusing to be silent. Each of them reaches out to each other with the same words, achieving the restoration of Jerusalem together.
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