Parshat Chayei Sarah: Making the Most of Every Minute

Many of our children take a year off between high school and college to spend the year learning in Israel. I, too, had that privilege - I spent that time  learning many valuable lessons. I would have to say, the single most important thing I learned that year is the Jewish value of time. Let’s use this week’s parsha to elaborate on what I mean.

וַיִּֽהְיוּ֙ חַיֵּ֣י שָׂרָ֔ה מֵאָ֥ה שָׁנָ֛ה וְעֶשְׂרִ֥ים שָׁנָ֖ה וְשֶׁ֣בַע שָׁנִ֑ים שְׁנֵ֖י חַיֵּ֥י שָׂרָֽה:

“And the life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years; [these were] the years of the life of Sarah.”

Many commentators wonder why the Torah chooses to split up the numbers of Sarah’s lifespan into 100 and 20 and 7. But I choose to question the end of the pasuk; why the need to repeat the words “these were the years of the life of Sarah?” The beginning of the pasuk already said “and the life of Sarah was…,” why the need to repeat this at the end of the same pasuk?

Rashi suggests the message is to emphasise that all the days of Sarah’s life were equally good. But what does this mean? What exactly was equally good?

There is a Medrash (Beraishit Rabba 58:3) relating to a story that could shed light on the message of Sarah’s life. The Medrash relates that Rebbi Akiva was sitting and teaching his students Torah, when his audience began to fall asleep (every good Rabbi experiences this phenomenon at some point.) In an attempt to awaken his students, R’ Akiva said: “Why was Queen Esther seen fit to rule over 127 countries? Let the daughter of Sarah, who lived 127 years, rule over 127 countries.”  What does this mean? What was R’ Akiva trying to convey? Rav Asher Weiss explains that R’ Akiva had been in the middle of a lesson, teaching his students the importance of learning Torah, and how Torah can only be mastered by totally committing yourself to its pursuit. Torah is not something that can be acquired by kicking your feet back with a cup of coffee for a few minutes. This was learned from our forefathers who taught us to utilize every day to our fullest potential. Sarah lived for 127 years and “all of the days of her life were equally good,”, meaning she sanctified every moment of her life by applying each and every waking moment to the service of Hashem.

Similarly, Queen Esther must have learned this lesson from her great-great-great grandmother Sarah. It is hard enough to rule over 1 country; how does one rule over 127 countries successfully? It can only be done by paying careful attention to each and every city to ensure there is no rebellion which could ultimately spread out of control. She would have had to pay attention to everyone. The only possible way to do this would be to maximize every day of her life; a lesson she learned from Sarah Immeinu.

Wow! What an important lesson! It is our duty to maximize our time, to maximize each day of our lives. My experiences from my post high school year in Israel, coupled with this lesson from Sarah Immeinu, teach us that time is precious. Let us never look to “waste some time,” or look to do things just to “pass some time.” I don’t know how many of us will live until 120, but Sarah lived longer; she lived until 127 and made the most of every minute! We can do it too!

Parshat Vayera: The Need for Repitition When it Comes to Morality

There is a natural inclination to seek freshness and new ideas, both in life and in Torah. In this parsha blog I typically look for new ideas and certainly offer new thoughts this year, in comparison to last year. That said, I purposely am repeating this week’s thought from last year for the following reason: I had the fortune of spending four years in my college days at Yeshiva University, studying every day with one of the Roshei Yeshiva, Rabbi Abba Bronspigiel Shlita, may Hashem bring him a refuah shelaima. He, too, would spend time in shiur every Thursday, offering an insight into the parsha. Every year he would offer a new thought on each parsha, with one exception; this week’s Parsha, Parshat Veyera. I heard this exact thought from him four years in a row, and it became clear to me why he felt it necessary to emphasize this lesson above all others. In his big footsteps, I attempt to do the same here, for you. The thought you will read below emphasizes the need to balance our natural desire and aspiration to think freely and independently, but yet to recognize the need to totally submit ourselves to the words of the Torah, its laws and its lessons.

Independent thinking can on the one hand be the key to a fruitful and productive life, but at the same time it can distance us from the authority of the Torah and our obligations as Jews in the world. With this introduction, I present to you my thought on Parshat Vareya: The Root of Morality.

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For the second time in as many parshiyot, Sarah is thrown into a situation where she is told to act as if  she is the brother of Avraham. On a simple level, we understand Avraham’s intentions were to save himself, for if she were to say she was his wife, they would kill him to take her.  But upon closer look, the text of these two incidents are not the same. When going down to Egypt and Pharaoh in Parshat Lach Lecha, Avraham actually says,

ויהי כאשר הקריב לבוא מצרימה ויאמר אל שרי אשתו, הנה נה ידעתי כי אשה יפת מראה את.

והיה כי יראו אתך המצרים ואמרו אשתו זאת והרגו אתי ואתך יחיו.

אמרי נא אחתי את, למען ייטב לי בעבורך וחיתה נפשי בגללך (יב:יא-יג)

Avraham warns Sarah the Egyptians might see her beauty and upon hearing he is her husband, they might kill him. Therefore, she should say she is his sister.

However, when looking at the pesukim in this week’s parsha as Avraham and Sarah go south to Grar, all the Torah says is,

ויאמר אברהם אל שרה אשתו אחתי היא, וישלח אבימלך מלך גרר ויקח את שרה (כ:ב).

The text simply says that Avraham told Avimelech Sarah was his sister.  The text makes no mention of Avraham warning Sarah about this, or what his reasons were. Rashi suggests that after being taken by Pharaoh in last week’s parsha, Avraham feared Sarah might not consent to this ploy for a second time. Here, I offer another possibility, but it requires looking at a few more pesukim.

As the story with Avimelech continues, he takes Sarah. Before anything can happen, Hashem appears to him in a dream; he says not to touch her for she is a married woman. Avimelech not only listens to Hashem, but claims his innocence for not knowing she was married; Hashem concedes Avimelech’s character would not have done anything with Sarah, had he known she was married. Moreover, Avimelech wakes up in a panic, calls in his cabinet and tells them what happened and וייראו האנשים מאד, they were all frightened. It is clear that everyone is upset and scared. But why? The story continues as Avimelech goes to Avraham; This is where the message of the entire episode is found. Avimelech says, what did you do to me? By saying she was your sister you almost caused me to sin with a married woman. We do not do things like that in this place! Then comes the big question from Avimelech:

? What did you see here that caused you to do this- מה ראית כי עשית את הדבר הזה?

At this point, I feel sorry for Avimelech; he is upset about almost committing a huge sin. He is seemingly not only sincere, but  seems right in his accusation against Avraham. What do you expect Avraham to answer? This is what Avraham replies,

ויאמר אברהם כי אמרתי רק אין יראת אלקים במקום הזה, והרגוני על דבר אשתי.

Sorry, Avimelech, there is no fear of G-d here and I was worried you would kill me to get to Sarah.

Can this be correct? Am I understanding this correctly? We just had numerous pesukim showing Avimelech’s fine character. Chazal confirms the city of Grar was a place of culture and morals (unlike Egypt), and Avraham’s response is that there is no fear of G-d? At first glance, this looks like Avraham spitting in Avimelech’s face. How is Avraham answering the question? What is even more puzzling is that Avimelech does not respond, apparently conceding to Avraham’s statement. What does this all mean?

My Rebbi of four years at Yeshiva University, Rabbi Abba Bronspigiel, suggested the following answer, based on the commentary of Rav Hirsch and the Malbim. Avraham was saying the following: It is true that Grar is a place of fine culture and morals, but any time societal norms are based on anything but fear of G-d, there is the fear that they can change at any moment.

Perhaps society today  does not condone illicit relationships, but if you want something badly enough - and you are the King -  you can just as easily change the norms. The only thing that is eternal and non-breakable are the laws created by G-d himself. Unfortunately, history has proven this to be true. Pre-World War Two Germany was viewed as a place of fine culture and high morals. There were even animal protection laws that were more more protective than those in most civilized countries today. (CLICK HERE to read about this). And yet, we all know how quickly the norms and acceptable practices changed in Germany. If they are not G-d given laws, they can change in a heartbeat. This was the answer Avraham gave to Avimelech and Avimelech’s lack of response shows he understood why Avraham was concerned for his life.

Perhaps we can use this idea to understand the differences in the Torah’s description of the events in Egypt vs. the events in Grar. When Avraham and Sarah go down to Egypt, they are going to a place known for its licentiousness, immorality and lewd behaviour. In this instance, the Torah describes the detail and motivation of Avraham’s plan with Sarah. This was done as a warning, not just for Sarah, but for all of us to understand that when it comes to immoral places, we must do everything in our power to avoid the bad influences, perhaps even extending the truth. But when a similar episode occurs in Grar, the city of fine character and morals that are not based on fear of G-d, Sarah does not need any explanation. Like Avraham, she understood  he would be concerned about these non-G-d made norms and practices. The Torah didn’t want us to think  this situation was just like Egypt; no, it was an even harder challenge as it seemed like a nice city. To teach us this valuable lesson, the Torah chose to say less and hide this message in the storyline. Perhaps the Torah not explicitly detailing Avraham explaining this to Sarah indicates, unlike Rashi’s concern, that she might not go along with it, but rather, she didn’t need any convincing at all.

Parshat Lech Lecha: The Fiery Furnace: Why Wasn't it Written in the Torah?

This week’s parsha begins with Avraham being tested with one of his ten nisyonot, to leave his birthplace and his family behind, and travel to an undetermined destination. The Medrash, in last week’s parsha, tells us of the previous nisayon, the כבשן האש, jumping into the fiery furnace of Nimrod and the great miracle that saved Avraham from death. In last year’s posting (CLICK HERE to read it), I focused on the strange order of the tests. This time around I wondered about something different; something I am certain many of you have often wondered about as well. Why is the episode of the fiery furnace of Nimrod not written explicitly in the Torah? It was a huge challenge for Avraham and a huge miracle, certainly it should have been deemed important enough for the Torah to describe it in detail?

The Sefer שלל רב offers a novel insight by exploring the passage in the Talmud which relays the story of the fiery furnace. Here is the gist of what the Talmud relates: When Nimrod threw Avraham into the furnace, the Angel Gavriel appealed to Hashem to let him go down and save Avraham. Hashem replied, “No-״אני יחיד בעולמי והוא יחיד בעולמו, נאה ליחיד להציל את היחיד

“I am One in My world and Avraham is one in his world, so it makes more sense for me to save him.” When the Medrash relays this episode, there are actually a group of angels who seek to save Avraham, and Hashem replies, “No - אין זה שלכם - this one is not for you.”  Contrast this to another story in Tanach - Sefer Daniel -  where Chanania, Mishael and Azariah who were the three Jewish heroes who defied the order of the Babylonian ruler Nebuchadnetzar to bow to the statue he had erected, subsequently were cast into a fiery furnace. In this instance, Hashem allowed the angels to save these righteous men.

What was the difference? Why did Hashem allow the angels to save Chanania, Mishael and Azariah, but not Avraham?

Both Avraham and Chanania, Mishael and Azariah were performing the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem; the obligation to give up your life rather than be forced to worship idols. However, there was a big difference between the two instances. The obligation of Kiddush Hashem is incumbent upon all of us, meaning if placed in a situation where someone puts a gun to your head and gives you the option to die or serve idols, you are obligated to die al Kiddush Hashem. But there is no obligation upon us to go live with idol worshippers. In fact, doing so could be tantamount to suicide, which certainly is not permissible. But Avraham was unique; he was the first person to believe in monotheism and therefore, placed himself right in the middle of the action. He lived amongst Nimrod and his followers.

Perhaps now we can understand why the episode of Avraham being thrown into the fiery furnace was not written explicitly in the Torah. The Torah is written as a guide for us; it is meant to teach us how to behave and react in different situations. The way Avraham acted with Nimrod was not applicable to us. He was a one-of-a-kind individual, able to rely on the miracle of being saved by Hashem. That is not us -- we aren’t supposed to put ourselves into challenges where death is the obvious outcome. This is the meaning of the Medrash when Hashem responds to the angel Gavriel, “ He is one in his world,”. Avraham was unique, only he had the emunah and the righteousness to stick up to Nimrod and for that reason, Hashem, “The One,” wanted to save him Himself.

Parshat Noach: Maintaining Our Growth - A Lesson from Noach's Mistake

ויחל נח איש האדמה ויטע כרם (ט:כ)

And Noach made himself mundane and painted a vineyard.

Chazal teach us that the personalities in the Torah were on spiritual level we cannot comprehend, and yet it is still appropriate to look at their lives and ask questions, so we can learn from their experiences. They too were human, albeit on a much higher spiritual plain. Any novice reader of this week’s parsha would be troubled by the episode that occurs right after Noach leaves the ark. What is the very first thing he does after spending a year protected by Hashem, in a world where everyone else around him has died? He plants a vineyard, gets drunk, resulting in horrible consequences. How are we to understand this?

One valuable lesson from this is the danger of abusing alcohol, a topic which deserves a lot of attention in our Jewish society, where I am concerned adults do not always act as good role models for our children, but I will leave that topic for another day. I prefer to focus here on what went wrong for Noach when he left the ark. On his level, what did he miss that lead to such devastating results?

Rav Shlomo Wolbe zt”l explains that Noach didn’t know how to re-enter society properly. He spent an entire year of total selflessness where he sustained the animals and lived a purely spiritual life as a prophet. The Torah describes his act of planting the vineyard as making himself “mundane.” Rashi explains that he should have planted something else; wine is intoxicating and thus was not the appropriate first choice. Rav Wolbe adds that when a person experiences a spiritual lift and then does something not on par with his newfound level, it is called “making himself mundane.”

It is for this reason that Chazal teach us to end Yom Kippur by going outside to build our Sukkah; to maintain that spiritual height by keeping involved in mitzvoth. The insight here is that every time you complete a mitzvah, it is important to carefully consider your subsequent actions, lest you “make yourself mundane.” Rav Wolbe compares this to space travel. The most dangerous part of the entire trip is re-entry into the atmosphere. If the shuttle does not enter with the exact angle and speed, it will burn up in seconds.  So too, after Yom Kippur, after spending a day on a high spiritual level, it is crucial to consider how you will re-enter.

We find ourselves at Rosh Chodesh MarCheshvan, just days after Simchat Torah and three weeks of chagim where, G-d willing, we grew to a higher spiritual level. We now must focus on how to maintain our growth, so we can become stronger, more committed Jews and not lose what we have achieved. This reminds me of Chassidic story I heard ten years ago from my Rav, Rav Moshe Weinberger. There was a man named Matul and he was a simpleton, so everyone in town called him Matul Naar, which is the yiddish version of Matul the simpleton. Although he didn’t love this somewhat derogatory name, he learned to live with it. After a number of years of searching, Matul was found a shidduch and from then on everyone called him חתן מת. The night before the wedding, the town Rebbi saw Matul sitting and weeping. He went over and asked “Tomorrow is the happiest day of your life, so why are you crying?”. Matul said when he became engaged, everyone called him chatan matul, which he liked. He cried because he knew that tomorrow, after the wedding, people will again call him Matul Naar, which he didn’t want to happen.   

Rav Weinberger said this is how most of us feel at the end of Simchat Torah. The whole year we are Matul Naar; finally Elul and the Yomim Noraim come along and we grow in our avodat Hashem, and perhaps Hashem looks at us as a Chatan. But we are sad now, as we don’t want to return to being called Matul Naar again, as regular life returns.

The words of Rav Wolbe and Rav Weinberger help shed light on Noach’s mistake and what we can learn from it. We must have a plan. Just as we took the time to introspect and find areas of our avodat Hashem to improve upon, we also must plan on how to integrate our new improved selves into regular, daily life.

CLICK HERE to read my thought on Parshat Noach from last year, which includes an insight into Noach and touches upon understanding his mistake.

Parshat Bereishit: Sibling Rivalry Begins

The Torah does not waste any time introducing sibling rivalry into the world. The very first brothers in the world end up fighting, a fight that was so critical it led to one murdering the other. What exactly happened here and what are we supposed to learn from it? Let’s explore the story as told in the Torah and then fill in some gaps from the Medrash.

In chapter four, the Torah tells us Chava gave birth to Cain and Hevel.  Cain becomes a farmer and Hevel a shepherd. They both become successful and seek to bring offerings to Hashem. Cain brings an offering of the fruit of the ground, not his best quality, while Hevel follows with his own offering of the finest animals. Hashem “turns” to Hevel’s offering, but not to Cain’s. Cain gets really upset, and Hashem asks him “why are you so upset?”. Cain proceeds to speak to Hevel in the field and ultimately kills him. The aftermath is also interesting in how Hashem approaches Cain about this, but let’s leave that for another time.

What happened here? Why did Cain get so upset? The Torah clearly states Cain was upset, so why did Hashem ask him why he was so upset? Even if he was really upset, how did this lead to killing Hevel?

Medrash Rabba says they were fighting about how to rule the world.  One took the earth and one took the moveable objects. One said "That land you are standing on is mine!" and the other said "What you are wearing is mine!" One said "Take it off!" and the other said "Fly!" Because of this, "Cain rose up against Hevel his brother and slew him.“

There is a famous story that once took place in the city of Brisk where a shochet came to the Beit din concerned one of his animals might have become a treifa and no longer kosher. He presented the animal to the dayan, Rav Simcha Zelig who confirmed the shochet’s fears that the animal was treif, and he had to bear the huge financial loss. The shochet accepted his ruling humbly and went home. A few weeks later, the same shochet comes into the beit din with a financial dispute with another individual, one of relatively minor financial impact. After hearing the case, the dayan rules against the shochet, whereupon he gets up enraged, begins yelling at the dayan and had to be escorted out of the beit din. Everyone was stunned and wondered why the same shochet who had accepted the dayan’s ruling a weeks prior on a matter that cost him a huge financial loss, would now get enraged over losing a few dollars? Rav Chaim Brisker explained the difference; in the second case he lost to someone else! When it was a case of his animal being treif, that was just him and halacha, no opposition, but in the second case he lost to someone else. The amount of money wasn’t the issue; it was that he couldn’t stand losing to someone else.

With this story in mind, Rabbi Frand suggests we can understand Cain and the source of his anger. If he was upset Hashem ignored his gift and felt rejected, that would be an understandable reason to be hurt. If, however, his anger stemmed from losing to Hevel, then his anger was unfounded. Hashem said to Cain, “Why are you annoyed?. It was because he knew Cain was angered by the competition. He was teaching Cain a lesson: When we get upset and angry, we need to assess our emotions to see where they stem from. Are we hurt because of our own failure or because someone else did better than we did?

The lesson for us is the same; we should strive for excellence in all we do, and if we have a setback or failure, it is ok to be upset and use that energy to refocus ourselves to be successful the next time around. But to be angered by competition and/or because others are striving while we struggle is not a healthy emotion.

Taking this one step further, the Medrash Tanchuma says Cain’s offering consisted of flax, while Hevel’s was of wool. Clearly the mixing of wool and flax (linen) is flammable and leads the Torah to prohibit the wearing of shaatnez (clothing with a mixture of wool and linen). Add this to the Medrash Rabba we mentioned above, it became clear to the brothers that they could not coexist and that is why they sought to divide the world - one with the land and one with the moveable objects. These offerings of shaatnez led to destruction... the first murder! I once heard Rabbi Pesach Krohn add to this the understanding of why there is only one exception to the halacha of shaatnez, only one person who not only is allowed to wear shaatnez, but is obligated to. The Kohen Gadol’s special clothing consisted of shaatnez. The first Kohen gadol was Aaron who we know was an אוהב שלום ורודף שלום, someone who always sought after peace. He was the opposite of Cain and Hevel; he brought people together as the rectification of discord.

Let us learn this invaluable lesson and seek self improvement, but not competition for its own sake. Let us seek to bring people together in peacefulness and not do things to create strife or hostility. Finally, let’s get along with our siblings!

Parshat Ha'azinu: The Power of Learning Torah

The pasuk in this week’s parsha says, ( כי שם ה׳ אקרא הבו גודל לאלקינו (לב:ג - “When I call out the name of the Lord, ascribe greatness to our G-d.” The Talmud (Brachot 21a) tells us that this pasuk is the Biblical source for making Birchat HaTorah every morning before learning Torah. The commentators go to great lengths to analyze what this means exactly: is it really a biblical level obligation or not? And what are the ramifications? Similarly, the commentators  ask, why do we say two brachot on the mitzvah of Learning Torah, when typically, one mitzvah gets one bracha assigned to it? (We say לעסוק בדברי תורה and שבחר בנו מכל העמים… והערב נא….)

I will focus this thought on a different, yet  basic question; one that I suspect many of us have often wondered about.  Why do we not recite a bracha when we conclude our learning of the Torah? When we have kriyat HaTorah in shul, we recite a bracha before and one after. Why is our individual practice different?

Rabbi Mordechai Jaffe, otherwise known for his classic commentary, The Levush, suggests a novel approach to understand this concept. When we make Birchat HaTorah over the kriyat haTorah in shul, it fits the pattern of a typical birchat hanehenin; a bracha over receiving benefit. Just as we make a bracha before and after receiving the benefit of eating a food, so too, for kriyat haTorah in shul we recite a bracha before and after. But the brachot recite every morning goes on our obligation to learn Torah, which is upon us at all times, as the pasuk in Yehoshua (1:8) says, והגית בו יומם ולילה, “you should toil in it by day and night.” In other words, our obligation to learn Torah each day has no end time; it is always there. Whenever we are not occupied with earning a livelihood, attending to our family needs, or to other mitzvot, the mitzvah to learn Torah is paramount. Therefore, it does not make sense to make a bracha achrona on our individual obligation to learn Torah.

The Levush adds that one reason we recite two brachot in the morning is so that one of them should count for the bracha achrona on the learning we did the previous day. He suggests we cannot even say a bracha achrona at night, before going to bed for our obligation continues up until the moment that we actually go to sleep. He notes that although according to this logic, we should really recite the bracha of אשר בחר בנו first to go on the previous day's learning, since we recite that bracha as a bracha rishona before the kriyat haTorah in shul, we remain consistent and use that as the bracha rishona each morning before learning Torah.

On the heels of Yom Kippur and in anticipation of Simchat Torah, it is incumbent upon us to understand the importance of learning Torah. It is always there; you cannot hide from it or run away from it. This year, me must accept upon ourselves to strengthen our own Torah learning and the learning which takes place in our homes.

A few practical suggestions:

1. Parents should find an additional weekly shiur to attend. Model the importance of learning for your children. If your schedule doesn’t allow for going attending a shiur, make a set time each week to listen to a shiur online. Make it part of your week! Your children will see it too.
2. Choose something the entire family can learn at the Shabbat table, or perhaps even at the dinner table a few times a week. Keep it simple so that you will be able to maintain it. Imagine the impact this can have on you and your children.

Aseret Yemai Teshuvah: We Are Hanging in the Balance

The Talmud tells us there are three books open before Hashem on Rosh Hashanah:

1. רשעים - the evil/ non-observers,

2. צדיקים - righteous observers,

3. בינונים - those in the middle, the average Jew.

On Rosh Hashanah, books one and three are signed and sealed, the righteous for life and the evil for death. But the average person, the בינוני, is

תלוין ועומדין מראש השנה עד יום כיפור - זכו לחיים, לא זכו למיתה, loosely translated they are “hanging in the balance,” or their judgement is deferred until Yom Kippur. Whereupon if they merit it, they will be written for life. If not, they will be written for death.

The commentators have lots to discuss on this passage. Many search to understand the notion that the Talmud; is it promising all the righteous are written for life and the evil to death, when our observations in the world do not support that? How to define the tsadik and rasha in this passage is also not simple. Let’s leave that for another time. Lets focus on the last segment, discussing the ביננוני as it is likely describes most of us average Jews.

The Rambam quotes this description of the three books in the laws of Teshuva, but uncharacteristically, he changes the language in a subtle, yet significant way. He writes

תולין אותו מראש השנה עד יום כיפור – ואם עשו תשובה נחתם לחיים, ואם לא עשו תשובה, נחתם למיתה. This means that it is not a question of our “meriting” life per se, but we have to actively do teshuva to merit life.

This presents a few challenges:

1. When one studies the Rambam regularly, it is clear he goes to great lengths to maintain the integrity of the original text in the Talmud. If so, why did the Rambam change the language here?
2. Why is it even true? Why must we do this involved teshuvah process to merit life? If the average Jew is a beinoni, someone in the middle, someone with 50% merits and 50% aveirot, why can’t we simply do more mitzvot during these days to be moved to the book of life? Let’s give some extra tzedaka, refrain from lashon hora and let that tip the scales for us? Why the need for teshuvah?
3. Why does the Talmud say there are three books on Rosh Hashana? Isn’t the Talmud really describing two books on Rosh Hashanah? The Righteous and the evil? The average people are pushed off until Yom Kippur! So why state there are three books?

To gain insight into what our sages are trying to teach us here, let us look at three approaches that will help us resolve these challenges.

Approach #1

The famous commentator on the Ramabam, Lechem Mishneh suggests the reason we can’t simply do a few extra mitzvoth to tip the scales is because choosing not to do teshuvah is actually a sin that would tip the scales in the other direction. Rav Yitzchok Blazer adds that although Hashem has given us the gift of repentance and it can be done any day of the year, these ten days of repentance are days when Hashem is begging us to return to Him. In actuality, not doing Teshuvah is worse than any mitzvah we could possible do during these days. If is for this reason the Rambam emphasizes we must do teshuvah to merit life. So much so, that he did not want us to misunderstand the words of the Talmud – זכו – to merit; do not think that is some luck or mazel that we might get if Hashem is in the right mood. Rather, we need to earn it through systematically introspecting and changing our ways.

Approach #2

Rav Chaim Shmulewitz in his famous work, Sichot Musser, suggests a compelling, yet scary approach. When the Talmud writes תולין אותו, it does NOT mean that the judgement is deferred. Rather from the word Talui, to hang, Hashem actually judges the beinoni for death on Rosh Hashanah, as if we are on the gallows with a noose around our necks. But unlike the Rasha who is sealed for death on Rosh Hashana, the beinoni is given the 10 days of repentance to do teshuvah and uproot the death sentence. In other words, doing a few random acts of mitzvot will not uproot a death sentence; we have to really change who are and who we want to become. Again, this helps us understand why teshuvah is absolutely necessary and for this reason the Rambam didn’t want us to misunderstand the words of the Talmud. I believe this approach also helps us understand why the Talmud states that there are three active books on Rosh Hashana, for the beinoni really is being judged on that day.

Approach #3

Rav Yitzchak Hutner in his famous work, Pachad Yitzchak, suggests another way to approach the entire passage of the Talmud. He says that the three books and the three groups of people should not be understood in an immature, Kindergarten type of way, where the צדיק is 100% good, the רשע 100% bad and the בינוני 50% good and 50% bad. He argues that these categories are a מידה בנפש or a character description of who we really are. A רשע is someone whose predisposition is not to take the Torah and halacha into account in guiding his actions, while the צדיק is someone who generally does use the Torah and halacha to guide his actions. What then is a בינוני? He is someone who has no inner, spiritual definition. Sometimes he does this, sometimes that, sometimes good, sometimes bad; but there is no predisposition to either. Rav Hutner suggests that the Rambam is teaching us that to be written into the book of life, we need to define who we really are. We shouldn’t look at our Judaism in way of middle of the road in that we do some mitzvot but look the other way on others. No one is perfect, but we need to recognize that the areas of the Torah that we are not perfect in are areas we need to work on and grow with over time. Once again, doing some random mitzvoth cannot accomplish that; we need a systematic, holistic and honest look at who we are, who we want to become and how we are going to get there. For this reason, the Rambam veered from the language of the Talmud to teach us this invaluable lesson.

Regardless of which approach you connect to, the message seems obvious and direct. As orthodox Jews, we need to remind ourselves what the high holy days are really about. We have to be prepared to take an honest look at ourselves and evaluate if we are really living the life Hashem wants for us. Are we keeping the Torah and mitzvot as best as we can? Are we growing each year in our observance?

May the merit of our collective teshuvah reach the heavens and compel Hashem to write us all into the book of life.

גמר חתימה טובה!