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Normal Judeo-Christian religion does not have a beef with science. Sure, we would like scientists to be guided by a moral code (e.g. don’t inflict people with toxins or viruses to see what happens – this is far more common than you might think), but we don’t generally have a problem with gaining knowledge about the natural world or how we might go about improving it.

It would be nice if Science returned the sentiment. But it does not. Science is hell-bent on destroying religion. What amuses me is that Science’s attack is itself built on a lie.

What is the classic story that proves religion is wrong? In one corner, The Church. And in the other, Galileo. The version told by scientists is all very simplified, of course (great stories don’t let facts get in the way).

The story is all around a simple question: what is at the center of the world?

Scientists say, with great sanctimony: “[Religious/Ignorant] people used to think the sun rotated around the earth, but we are educated and enlightened, and we know this is exactly backward: the earth rotates around the sun!”

And, therefore: religion is wrong, and stupid, and should cease to exist.

Let’s leave to the side the much more complex history, and the range of ancient understandings. We can even ignore the question of whether Religion (writ large) is really all that invested in one worldview or the other. I am not saying that these objections don’t have merit – they do! – but I am making a much, much simpler and more fundamental point: The logic of the scientists is, on its own merits, illogical. It is a Big Lie.

What is that Big Lie? That there is such a thing as a “center.”

For any data set, there is always more than one explanation. Occam’s Razor, the idea that one should subscribe to the simplest explanation, is not a statement of any underlying Truth. Occam’s Razor is merely a convenience. Like Newtonian Mechanics (or, for that matter, any model), the answers provided using Occam’s Razor can be wrong while still being useful.

Let’s take a simple example: The number progression 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 can be explained by adding one to the prior number. But that is only one explanation. There are in fact an infinite number of algorithms that will yield the sequence 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Arithmeticians merely choose the simplest of these, and call it “true.” But it is not “true.” It is just the simplest.

Turning to astronomy, we can observe that the earth is not obviously the center of the world we can observe with our eyes or our instruments. But then again, neither is the sun. And our solar system is out on some pinwheel of the Milky Way which is itself not the center, either. There may be a center from the place the Big Bang theoretically happened – but perhaps that place is also in motion. It certainly is in motion compared to something else.

Since absolutely everything is in motion relative to another thing, the only way we can advance our understanding is to pick a spot, push a pin into it, and then show the mathematics that everything moves around that place. We can do this using the sun, the earth, the moon, or any arbitrary point in space.

Insisting that the sun is at the center is actually a lie. Because in actual fact, putting the sun at the center of anything is nothing more than a convenience, and only when looking at the solar system in isolation.

 In my own religion, Judaism, the importance perspective is not that of the sun, or the earth or the moon: the perspective that matters is that of the individual observer. The Sabbath, for example, does not begin when the sun sets – for it is, like the famous cocktail hour, always setting somewhere. In Judaism, the Sabbath begins when the sun sets from my vantage point.

 This perspective is not about “facts” or “truth.” It is about the worldview that G-d wants us to have: to understand that the world was created for the choices that mankind makes. And while I cannot control the decisions that others make for themselves, I certainly am held responsible for the decisions I make for myself. So I am supposed to live my life as if the entire world rotates around me. And you should do the same!

Because Scientists who use Galileo vs The Church as the great proof of the idiocy of religion are either ignorant or maliciously wrong: the reality is that there is no absolute truth in the physical world about anything relational. Any assertion otherwise is illogical, and thus should be labeled unscientific and discarded by any logical person.

But Scientists do not do so, because Science is at war with religion, and the belief that there are things that matter that are more than mere matter or energy. In the minds of anti-religionists, humans must be nothing more than another animal on a planet, governed by our nature and nurture – certainly not by an unpredictable and ultimately non-physical “free will.” Mankind must be irrelevant within the universe – and any belief to the contrary is just silly.

Science’s war on religion is ultimately grounded in the belief that nothing about humanity is capable of transcending the measurable physical world.

But that war is built on a false premise. Science’s claim to superior truth is built on the heliocentric lie.

We all know that the expectations that we have for ourselves or for others are important. We know that cultures or families where people achieve great things are the environments in which expectations are high. It is for this same reason that parents work hard to get their kids into good schools; good schools have high expectations of their students.

Expectations are a leading reason why, for example, Protestant nations tend to outperform Catholic ones: Unlike Catholics, Protestant Christians typically believe that Good Works make a difference, that G-d expects more from them, and so they cannot resign themselves to their nature or nurture or whatever destiny G-d has in mind for them.

Judaism goes much further than this. We not only believe that what we do matters, we believe that it is only through our actions that the world can be saved. Smokey the Bear might have believed (erroneously, by the way) that only YOU can prevent forest fires. But Jews are told that we can bring the Messiah! And while we have not managed it yet, that does not keep us from trying.

Achievement can be a bit like horseshoes and hand grenades: even if you fall short of total world salvation, making the effort can still score points.

But we also know that we cannot do much of anything by ourselves. Even the greatest leaders and innovators and captains of industry have needed people on their team. And they have also needed emotional and moral support from a parent or spouse or mentor. Maybe not much, maybe not from a lot of people, but always from somewhere. That kind of support is also a form of high expectations: we rise toward what other people expect to see.

We spoke on Rosh Hashanah about the opportunity to orient souls toward their source, with Hashem in Shamayim, to get our bearings before embarking on this spiritual journey.

Yom Kippur is the next stage in this development, because it is our opportunity to create a strong connection, to recharge our souls and recalibrate our expectations more along the lines of what G-d has in mind.

This is at the core of the Psalm we say this month: “To Sit in the House of the Lord.” The Lord’s house, of course, is the Beis Hamikdash, the Temple. And the only person who can sit in the Lord’s House is the King. This was David’s prayer to G-d: “Let me become King, AND build G-d’s House.” That was one heck of an ambition for a person who was, at that point in his life, a fugitive youth, on the run.

David knew that, with G-d at his side, anything could be achieved. And he knew, also, that G-d had high expectations of him. If you are raised in an environment where you believe that G-d expects the world from you, then it is like being the child of Asian immigrants: you will work hard to not disappoint your parents.

I make the claim that Yom Kippur is the opportunity to recharge our souls through the divine connection. This claim can be supported in the Torah.

First off, we say, almost endlessly during Selichos over the past 2 weeks, the 13 Attributes of Mercy. These appear in the Torah in Shmos 34:6–7, and in abbreviated form in Parshas Shelach (N. 14:17-18). And when do we ask for G-d’s mercy? The first time after we sinned as a nation with the Egel, and the second time after we sinned with the spies. What do these have in common? We fell short of G-d’s expectations of us! Specifically, we lost our belief that G-d would be with us through thick and thin, and that we could achieve anything if we could only conquer fear.

In Judaism, sin does not come from having too much ambition, but by being afraid that, even with G-d’s help, we are incapable of greatness. We sin after we lose our nerve.

The cure for these sins that we deploy in this season are the 13 attributes of mercy. They are given to Moses, as you may recall, when Moshe is closer to G-d than at any other time, “seeing G-d’s back.” Yom Kippur is also a time of close proximity to G-d, a time during which we have a very special and living column of energy, a ladder of angels going up and down between our souls and their source.

But 13 means a lot more than just the attributes of mercy, the ways in which G-d can allow us to move on from our failures and shortcomings. Because the number 13 is itself all about the connection that our souls can have with Hashem.

13 is the number of times the word nesheq, kiss, is found in the Torah. (By the way, almost all of the kisses in the Torah are between men.) A kiss is a connection, and through the primary channel for our breath.

Every kiss in the Torah involves at least one person who has a conscious connection to G-d. This makes sense, because our souls were “blown in” by G-d – so our breath, the breath of life, is both a physical analog for our souls, but also the spiritual analog for the creative or destructive power that we unleash through our words and songs. That breath, reflecting our souls, is our common connection to G-d.

13 is also the age at which Ishmael forms a connection through his circumcision. We offer 13 bulls on the first day of Sukkos, the first Yomtov following the spiritual connection of Yom Kippur. Sukkos is the holiday described the most as the holiday of “simcha” – of unification and connection.

We can go even further. I usually avoid Gematria, but this works too well: thirteen is the numerical value for “Avi” my father. The Torah repeatedly refers to the relationship as (among others) between a father and his son or children. And on Yom Kippur we repeatedly refer to Avinu Malkeinu, Our Father our King.

13 is also the gematria for ahavah, love, as well as for echad, “one” or “unity.” And what is the unity? The very same covenant between the Jewish people and Hashem that happens to Ishmael at the age of 13.

The overall message is simple, and powerful: Every time we invoke the 13 Attributes of Mercy, we are reconnecting our souls to their source, re-unifying man and G-d through unity and love. Parents, love, unity, mercy and kisses … all 13s and all core to Yom Kippur.

I think this might help explain why, for many Jews, Yom Kippur is truly a Yomtov, full of joy and delight. Getting closer to Hashem is well worth the cost in hunger and deprivation.

Remember that the 13 Attributes of Mercy are given after the Egel and the Meraglim, the Golden Calf and the Spies. We repent not for the sins specifically but for the root causes of those sins: losing the fundamental understand that G-d is with us, and that as a consequence, we should never feel alone, abandoned, or weak.

As long as we are with G-d as well, we must reject fearing that we are inadequate. Instead, we must recharge our souls with that divine energy, and conclude that we can not only achieve anything, but that we must try to do so. The only we disappoint G-d is if we lose our courage.

Because that is the goal of each of our lives: we first admit our faults and shortcomings, and then we must agree that we need to move on, seek to grow, and recalibrate our ambitions to dream of deeper and stronger and more consequential relationship with Hashem.

If proximity to earthly parents with high expectations leads to better lives, then how much better will our connection with G-d be, on this day where we recharge our souls and recalibrate our expectations of ourselves?

When a person realizes that we are loved, then we are empowered by that faith. And people who are divinely empowered can do things that are beyond the reach of mere mortals.

Hashem expects no less of us.

I want to offer a broad, and perhaps grim, view of the world.

The world is sick. Humanity is dying out. And we are doing it not because of external forces, but entirely driven by tendencies that, in the big picture, can only be described as broadly suicidal. Individuals, communities, entire nations, and Western Civilization writ large have lost the desire to live. This is a uniquely modern phenomenon, caused by the conditions of modern life. Because survival is no longer hard, people have generally decided that life is not worth the hassle.

Our own technological successes and wealth has paradoxically made the preservation and growth of life much more difficult, not easier. That is because the challenge of living has been conquered. The world produces so much food that far more people die of obesity than starvation – Grok estimates 15-25 to 1. Almost nobody dies of starvation any more. We are so easily fertile and self-interested that the world, since 1980, has voluntarily aborted more than 30% of its entire population. Not because we could not feed or clothe more people, but because having a child interfered with our lives.

We have stopped investing in the future, in children. In the US, in 1800, women averaged 7 children apiece, and then started falling steadily. It now sits, today, below 1.6. No society in the history of the world has ever recovered from such a low birthrate.

Why have people stopped having children?

Initially, it is because, as I said, survival became easy.

But now the trends are accelerating.

We have created virtual worlds that act as proxies for the real thing, so we can live in our heads with only minimal engagement with the rest of the world. And we are doing it in every aspect of life: video games that are optimized for maximum human addiction. Plus internet addictions, and marijuana that saps ambition and drive, and pornography that takes the energies of the human libido and ensures that it is not used for holy ends.

And in the years to come, when we add robots and other interfaces that replace spouses and children as well as communities, the warmth of real human contact, this will accelerate. Why go through the difficulties and risks and disappointments of real relationships when we can get everything we want – from conversation to love to house cleaning – from a machine running on AI?

This is not science fiction. It is happening, live, all around us. I don’t think this is like any of the dozens of other apocalyptic scares of my lifetime. I don’t think it is like them because this scare is, in my opinion, actually real. Overpopulation, Peak Oil, Acid Rain, the end of the Rain Forests, Climate Change, Covid, Y2K? For many and varied reasons, despite all the hype, none of them actually endangered humanity.

But failing to reproduce does. We are seeing it in the choices that people are making. As I said, in the history of the world, no society or nation has ever recovered from the birthrates that we see almost everywhere today. For the first time in world history, it was reported this week that there are more people over the age of 65 than under the age of 5.

In short: humanity is dying out. It is killing itself off. And it is doing so voluntarily. It is a death cult as an unintended consequence of no longer fixating on mere survival. Collateral damage for a fully narcissistic society that does not have any fundamental worries, but has plenty of time-wasting distractions.

And it is shocking when we compare it to what we read today in the Torah: Avraham and Sarah’s deep and abiding desire to procreate, to ensure that their lives meant something, that there would be an ongoing legacy. They cared deeply that there are things bigger than our own lives, and that it is worth dedicating our lives to those things.

Avraham and Sarah understood that if nothing is worth dying for, life isn’t worth the trouble. They got that. Most people today, on the other hand, are not even making the effort. They don’t see any reason to do so.

Which brings me to the question at hand: How can we market something that we cannot talk about?

Because there are things worth dying for – and we should choose to do those things. But the things worth dying for are not necessarily things we can publicize. A lot of what makes life so wonderful is like photographic film in a darkroom: the magic is lost if you expose it to the outside world.

AI and robots and video games cannot duplicate the inner joy we discover in the soft words spoken in the dark between and husband and wife.

The all-encompassing relief when one person soothes another.

Or the bliss that bubbles up inside us when we see our children and especially our grandchildren.

The electricity and profound sense of connection are found in the still, small voice that comes to us when we are deep in conversation with HKBH.

All of these are so achingly beautiful, so essential for a meaningful life.

In other words: The Good Stuff. This is what really matters.

But none of them would make for a very effective marketing campaign in newspapers or billboards or internet popups. Indeed, any marriage in which the genuine tender moments are shared with the public, is a marriage that is finished. The privacy is a critical part of what those moments holy. Like the Aron Hakodesh, the holiness and power stem in part from its intimate and private nature.

We must not express the quiet things out loud, because that ruins them.

It is the same with the kavanah in our davening. We are gathered as a kehilla, in a shul. And we invest everything into our tefilla. But the magic happens when we, each and every one of us, inside our own heads, close our other senses, and listen. We daven, and we make ourselves receptive. And in so doing, we can kindle and feed and grow the holy connection – a profoundly private connection.

I believe that Hashem and his Torah are worth dying for. And we must rededicate our lives to living for them.

This is at the heart of Rosh Hashanah. We cannot express with words how the shofar can touch our souls – if we could, we would not need the shofar.

We take this time to recenter and refocus. To identify and find the divine connection. And use it to give meaning to our lives. This starts today, the first day of Rosh Hashanah, and the connection we make between our souls and their Source.

Might this help answer our question? “How can we market something that we cannot talk about?”

Perhaps. Perhaps the only way to market holiness is to live it? To model it for others?

If we, as individuals, are able to kindle and grow these most holy connections, then it can spread. Every great thing started with something small. Every single person who invests in the future, and does so with conviction and love, has the potential to inspire others to follow. If we can start with ourselves, then maybe – just maybe – the end result will be the promotion of the beauty of Torah to the world, and a renewed sense of meaning for mankind.

Because the only way to save humanity will be because people discover things worth living for, worth investing in. We need not just to avoid starvation or exposure to the elements; the world needs things to live for. Things that cannot be replaced with distractions like spectator sports or doomscrolling. Things that cannot be replaced with AI conversations or robots. If Hashem and His Torah, the guidebook for building holy relationships with G-d and with man, are the real mission statements for the Jewish people, then maybe humanity can be saved.

If we can do that, if we can identify with the Torah meaning to life and apply ourselves to it, then making something of ourselves may be worth the trouble after all.

May your davening and kavanah connect, and reveal the Good Stuff to you. May you find deeper meaning in all your connections, with G-d and with man. May you leave shul today with a renewed clarity about how you can live your life for all the things worth dying for.

Good Yomtov!

I wanted to explore a way of thinking about Rosh Hashanah that occurred to me. I think Rosh Hashanah is the start of a journey – but not a conventional one.

We had a conventional journey 6 months ago, with Pesach. On Pesach, the people had to physically get up and go. It was kind of a national Lech Lecha, mirroring Avraham’s journey to the land that Hashem showed him. We Jews often have to get up and go.

Judaism is a religion about journeys: Lech Lecha, Hagar with Ishmael, Yaakov coming and going to Lavan’s house, the national Pesach, traveling in the Midbar, and entering the Land. All of these involve conventional travel.

But there are journeys that are not geographical.

Consider, for example, that the first chapter of Bereishis describes the world as it was physically created. And then the second chapter, which seems to have inconsistencies and duplications of the events of the first chapter, is actually describing the world’s spiritual creation.  

Pesach was a national physical journey, where we got up and started walking. But Rosh Hashanah is different, because it is not a physical journey. Our bodies are not going anywhere.

No. On Rosh Hashanah we begin a spiritual journey. The Jewish New Year is not an anniversary of when the world was created, but instead, like the second chapter of Bereishis, its spiritual birth. That is the version where mankind is created from the mixture of dirt and a divine spark.

That spark is the elusive quality, the essential piece of each of us that makes us capable of being more than animals, of connecting to Hashem and to the souls of each other.  That spark, on loan from G-d, is what makes mankind capable of spiritual existence and connection.

Think about a major trip that you have undertaken. A real journey needs to be broken down into its primary steps. First, we figure out that we need to travel. Then we agree on the direction of travel. Then we decide what we are bringing with us, and what we are leaving behind. And then we commence the journey, taking the plunge into the unknown, trusting that we are doing the right thing, for the right reasons, and under the right protection.

We started with Selichos: the realization that we need to travel. And now we are in Rosh Hashanah, where we get our bearings, orient ourselves, and figure out, as any classic traveler did, where the North Star is.

Today is when we start planning this spiritual journey, the journey of the upcoming year. This is not the day in which we concern ourselves with what we are bringing with us, and what we are leaving behind – we do that during the 10 days of teshuvah and on Yom Kippur. And Sukkos is further beyond that point – recreating the spiritual experience of being close to Hashem, as we were in the midbar. By Sukkos we are already on our way, albeit on this spiritual journey.

But today is just the first step in this spiritual journey. Today, we are in the moment: getting our bearings. Orienting ourselves for a connection with HKBH. And that is where our tefilloh needs to be, the kavanah in our hearts.

On Pesach, we have to leave the stuff of Egypt behind – the chometz. We have to clear the decks in order to start being ready to receive the Torah.

On Rosh Hashanah, we do something similar: we have to leave the ideas of the world behind us.  Instead, we are to LISTEN. To hear the sound of the Shofar – perhaps as a proxy for hearing the voice of Hashem.

And why do we need to find our bearings? Because over the past year, we have been exposed to all the ideas of the outside world. We have been swimming in the waters of social media and enormous pressures to conform.  And that world is immature and generally unthinking.

People don’t step back and ask: what is really going on?  What am I trying to achieve, and will this get me there? Instead, we usually seek to know what other people want us to say and act and be and do – and then we follow the herd. This is human nature: most people will change their minds about a topic if they discover that “most people” have a different position.

People are instinctively herd animals.

So it is the Shofar, taken from a ram – a creature that is both curious and headstrong and independent, an animal that arrived on the mountain all alone – that reminds us that we, too, are commanded to spiritually depart from the world around us much like the Jewish people had to physically separate from Egypt. We focus on what matters, and slough off the rest.

Rosh Hashanah is when we try to get out of our heads, and see things from as high a perspective as we can manage.  Because the only true North Star is HKBH, and the only true guide is His Torah.

This is a day to reorient, to stop thinking “What will make other people think I am worthy?” and instead ask: “What should I be doing to BE worthy? And especially to be worthy in the eyes of G-d?”

We must consciously internalize the shofar, and understand that the visceral power and message of the horn that reminds us of the Akeidah is meant to open our souls to the divine connection.

And perhaps, because I am a rosy-eyed optimist, we can understand that Judaism is not – and never has been – about having power over others. Instead, the Torah is a guidebook for creating and nurturing holy relationships and personal growth and connection. We absolutely should be positively influencing others, but not seeking to wield power over them.

As you listen to the shofar today, may our spiritual journey for this year find its North Star. May we be able to see from as far outside ourselves as we can manage, so that we can see as clearly as possible.

And may we share many accomplishments and blessings as we seek to strengthen and reinforce our connection to the source of all spirituality, HKBH.

Good Yomtov.

One of the areas of the Torah that often gets overlooked are the different meanings between the offerings. We tend to jumble them all together, even though the text has different names for the offerings, and does not use them interchangeably.

For example, Noach is the first to offer an Oloh, an elevation offering (also translated as “burnt offering”). This kind of offering is clearly meant to elevate upward, to connect heaven and earth. It is about life and death – which is interesting because the root word for oloh in Hebrew ol, is found in Genesis in exactly 300 verses. On the third day, G-d created plants, he created life – and the inevitability of death. The third day was special, because G-d labels it “good” two separate times: when the water gathers together (unifies) to form seas, and when the earth brings forth grass, herb yielding seed, fruit trees – and their seeds. Life was formed on the third day, concurrent with the inevitable accompaniment of death and the notion of regeneration.

And plants grow upward, just like the Oloh, the elevation offering. The number 3 is consistently deployed in the Torah – and it all connects to the concept of the elevation-offering, and the core word, ol.

A more obscure offering is the zevach. But in the first book of the Torah, the zevach is quite distinct. It was first offered by Jacob when he sees his father-in-law, Lavan, for the last time: Jacob zevached up a zevach on the Height, and called his brothers to eat bread. (G. 31:54)

The next zevach in the Torah is many years later, when Jacob is about to leave Canaan and go live with Joseph in Egypt: So Israel set out with all that was his, and he came to Beer-sheba, where he zevached zevachim to the G-d of his father Isaac. (G. 46:1).

Note what these have in common: A zevach is a travel offering! And why might that be? I think it is because journeys in the ancient world were terrifying things to embark on, and they required enormous faith in order to even attempt. In the ancient world, people simply could not know what might happen – from bandits to hostile natives to wild animals, or weather events that impede journey. Uncertainty leads us toward seeking reassuring connections, which is exactly what Jacob was doing.

To reiterate: In both of the Jacob cases, a zevach is offered after the first stage of the journey, when crossing borders between lands.

Which might help explain Pharoah’s response when a zevach is next mentioned in the Torah: G-d says to Moshe: You shall go with the elders of Israel to the king of Egypt and you shall say to him, ‘The ETERNAL, the God of the Hebrews, became manifest to us. Now therefore, let us go a distance of three days into the wilderness and we will zevach to the Lord our G-d. … They answered [to Pharoah], “The God of the Hebrews has become manifest to us. Let us go, we pray, a distance of three days into the wilderness where we will zevach to the Lord our G-d.” (E. 3:18 and 5:3) (Following this, every time sacrificing to G-d is mentioned between Pharoah and the people, the word zevach is used.)

What is Pharoah’s response? He tells the taskmasters to “not heed false words.” (E. 5:9). This is the first time in the Torah that “false words” appears, and Pharoah, if he knew the history of the Zevach as told in the Torah, was right! Since Moses used the word “zevach,” it could only mean that the people intended to travel across the border, to depart from Egypt. The Zevach of the Children of Israel is meant to be a farewell to Egypt just as Israel said farewell to Lavan! Which means that the Hebrews were indeed speaking falsely!

Zevach to Mizbeach: Zevach is the root word for altar, mizbeach – only the addition of a single prefix letter (mem) separates them. The Torah illustrates that the purpose of a mizbeach in Genesis is tightly linked to the purpose of a Zevach.

Consider: the first mizbeach is built by Noach, after he is delivered through the Flood. It is the end of his journey, marking his personal salvation.

The next incidences of Mizbeach start with Avram: Upon arriving at the gateway city of the land, Shechem: [Avram] built a mizbeach there to G-D who had appeared to him. (12:7) From there he moved on to the hill country east of Bethel and pitched his tent … and he built there a mizbeach to G-D and invoked G-D by name. (G. 12:8). And he proceeded by stages from the Negeb as far as Bethel, to the place where his tent had been formerly, between Bethel and Ai, the site of the mizbeach that he had built there at first; and there Abram invoked G-D by name. (13:3)… And Abram moved his tent, and came to dwell at the terebinths of Mamre, which are in Hebron; and he built a mizbeach there to GOD. (13:18) Isaac does it, too: From there [Isaac] went up to Beer-sheba. … So [Isaac] built a mizbeach there and invoked G-D by name. (26:23). And then Jacob: Jacob arrived safe in the city of Shechem that is in the land of Canaan—having come thus from Paddan-aram—and he encamped before the city. … He set up a mizbeach there, and called it El-elohe-yisrael. (33:18)

The Torah is consistent: while a zevach marks the first stage of a big journey, a mizbeach is what a person builds when they arrive at their destination! A mizbeach seems to mark deliverance at the end of the journey!

G-d commands Jacob to use it for just this purpose: G-d said to Jacob, “Arise, go up to Bethel and remain there; and build a mizbeach there to the G-d who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau.” Jacob said to his household … Come, let us go up to Bethel, and I will build a mizbeach there to the God who answered me when I was in distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone.”… Thus Jacob came to Luz—that is, Bethel—in the land of Canaan, he and all the people who were with him. There he built a mizbeach and named the site El-bethel, for it was there that G-d had been revealed to him when he was fleeing from his brother. (35:1-7) The mizbeach marks salvation, giving G-d the credit for our deliverance!

Indeed, the mizbeach could be an attempt to create a physical record for posterity. We know this because when G-d commands Moses to write something down, Moses builds a mizbeach to record the divine deliverance! Then GOD said to Moses, “Inscribe this in a book as a reminder, and read it aloud to Joshua: I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven!” What does Moses do? He does not write a book. Instead: And Moses built a mizbeach and named it Adonai-nissi. He said, “It means, ‘Hand upon the throne of Y-h!’ G-D will be at war with Amalek throughout the ages.” (E. 17:14-16)

The Torah is showing us that an altar, a mizbeach, has a very specific symbolic meaning: crediting G-d with deliverance at the end of a journey. And it is done by erecting a physical structure.

Yet: after the wilderness, a mizbeach, an altar, ceases to be something that a person spontaneously builds. Instead, the Torah tells us that once we enter the land we, as a people, no longer will be able to offer sacrifices anywhere we like. Instead, we must only do so at the permanent location that G-d will choose.

The journey of the Jewish people has reached its destination when we have a tabernacle/temple. In the end, all the important journeys are to Jerusalem, to G-d’s House. That mizbeach replaces all others, forever more.

P.S. See Deut. 33:18 for the last incidence of zevah in the Torah – also marking journey.

The first person who voluntarily connects with G-d is Cain, when he offers from the fruits of the earth, the pri-ha’adamah. It seems like a good and decent thing to do. But it falls short: Cain’s offering was famously not accepted by G-d, and Cain’s response is to commit the first murder.

Perhaps the rejection of Cain’s offering of the fruits of the earth was supposed to teach Cain something. But what could he have done better?

The Torah tells us, using its own words!

The phrase meaning “fruits of the earth” appears only five times in the entire Torah! (G.4:3, D. 7:13, 26:2, 26:10. 28:11). In every incidence of this phrase after the story of Cain, the Torah discusses these fruits as blessings from G-d in the land, a reward for following G-d and His Torah. Cain brought from these fruits. But he missed an element: he brought from the produce, while his brother brought the first from his flock.

There is a deep idea here: G-d does not want a percentage or a payoff. G-d is not hungry. And indeed, the first fruits are the very worst of any harvest (e.g. “late harvest” wines are the sweetest). No. G-d wants the credit. He wants to be appreciated, for us to be grateful. And that does not require giving up significant material value. It requires us to appreciate that even though grain is inedible at the point of threshing (and turning grain into bread is incredibly laborious work), we must never ever think that it is we who are responsible for the end result. We must always be mindful and appreciative of our divine partner.

To be in the Land of Israel, in the land where all blessings are contingent on our relationship with G-d, we must internalize that G-d is not like a taxing authority or a mafia protection racket, demanding a cut because He has the power and we do not.

No. G-d desires a personal relationship, one of love and devotion. A relationship wherein each party invests and credits the other, where we each have a crucial role to play. And in that relationship, G-d wants the offering of Abel (the “first”) and not the offering of Cain (a percentage). By rejecting Cain, G-d gives Cain the opportunity to grow, to become ever-better by overcoming his jealousy and rage. We should recognize that G-d does not want our food: He wants us to acknowledge His centrality in our lives, to seek connection and to grow love between us. We do that by showing and expressing gratitude and appreciation.

This is why the commandment in Deuteronomy to bring the first-fruits has two elements that are identical to those of Cain and Abel: the “fruits of the earth,” and the “firstlings.” Both are specifically named in the Cain and Abel story, and then echoed when we are commanded, near the end of the Torah, to bring the bikkurim, the first fruits.

When we are farming the land of Israel, the offeror is commanded to tell the story of Jewish history, personally connecting back through all of Jewish history, expressing all the main events that led from the forefathers (My father was a fugitive Aramean. He went down to Egypt …) through the Exodus and receiving the land on which the first fruits were grown. (D. 26) Cain did not do this, either!

The first fruits of the earth are all connected back to Cain, showing how Cain could have done it right: bringing the first fruits and understanding and verbalizing the Big Picture of how our daily lives all connect back to the beneficence of G-d across all of history and including the minutiae of the present day. We should still give him credit: Cain, though imperfect, nevertheless made a positive step in the right direction!

The Torah has different words for clothing, each having a distinct meaning. For example, in the Torah, beged always refers to aspirational garments, while simla consistently refers to functional clothing.

There is another word that refers to maintaining the dignity and reputation of a person, of always being sure to them as if they are endowed with a divinely-gifted soul. We know this purely by the context of the word itself, which only appears in six verses in the entire Torah!

The word is keSus. It is used to speak directly about treating others with respect:

If you take your neighbor’s garment in pledge, you must return it before the sun sets; it is the only available clothing (keSus)—it is what covers their skin. In what else shall they sleep? Therefore, if [your neighbor] cries out to Me, I will pay heed, for I am compassionate. (E. 22:26)

And it also refers to specific clothing for the priests:

Put these on your brother Aaron and on his sons as well; anoint them, and ordain them and consecrate them to serve Me as priests. You shall also make for them linen breeches to cover (keSus) their nakedness; they shall extend from the hips to the thighs. (E. 28:43)

These uses of keSus are about the basic idea of being dignified, which is true for both the poor man and for the priest.

But we learn the deeper meaning of this word by seeing how it is used in the other four verses in the text.

keSus is used to discuss how a man must treat a woman he has taken, even if she does not remain her husband’s favorite:

If he takes another to wife, he must not withhold from this one her food, her clothing (keSus), or her conjugal rights. (E. 21:10)

The text is not merely telling us that the husband must clothe his wife: he must do so to ensure she retains her dignity! He cannot, in any way, expose anything about her that lowers her in the eyes of others!

How can we make such a bold claim? Does the text really support such a strong meaning for this word?

It does! Because the very first time keSus is used deals with a very sensitive story indeed. Avimelech has taken Sarah, Avraham’s wife. And when Avimelech discovers his mistake, he pays a considerable sum to restore Sarah’s dignity.

Abimelech took sheep and oxen, and male and female slaves, and gave them to Abraham; and he restored his wife Sarah to him. And Abimelech said, “Here, my land is before you; settle wherever you please.” And to Sarah he said, “I herewith give your brother a thousand pieces of silver; this will serve you as keSus before all who are with you, and you are cleared before everyone.” (G. 20:16)

Isn’t it amazing? keSus does not in this verse refer to clothing at all – it refers to restoring the reputation of Sarah, of showing that she was regarded most highly, indeed. The real object of the payment is the way in which Sarah is regarded by other people. keSus is truly about respecting people! As such, the less-loved wife must be treated with keSus just as Avimelech paid an exorbitant price to restore Sarah’s reputation.

Which in turn explains that last two uses of the word in the Torah:

When Aaron and his sons have finished covering (keSus) the sacred objects and all the furnishings of the sacred objects at the breaking of camp, only then shall the Kohathites come and lift them, so that they do not come in contact with the sacred objects and die. (N. 4:16)

This word, used to describe the poor man’s sole garment when night falls, is used to describe the holiest objects in the world, objects that are so special that they cannot even be regarded by ordinary people. Indeed, these objects are so special that even their bearers can only lift them if they are first keSus, covered.

The last verse refers to the fringes that a man wears on the “wings” (corners) of his garment:

You shall make tassels on the four corners of the garment with which you cover (keSus) yourself. (D. 22:12)

Look at the linkage!

The Torah is telling us that each and every person must preserve their own dignity, just as a man respects his wife, and just as the priests respected the sacred tabernacle.

This word, keSus is used to make explicit connections between all of: a poor man; of Sarah’s reputation; of the way a man treats his wife; of the holy vessels of the tabernacle; and each man in himself. The Torah tells us that they are all of these things are linked to each other by the dignity they are owed!

Some time ago, I wrote that when Jacob spoke of Rachel dying “on the way to Efrat,” he was speaking of her being on the path to fruitfulness (since Efrat contains “fruit” within the word). Which is why Jacob promoted Ephraim and Menasseh (grandsons of Rachel) to the status of his own sons. Rachel thus was “given” more of the children she desired.

The Torah shares other symbolic geographical references with us as well. For example, we are told to give blessings and curses on two opposing mountains: Mount Gerizim and Mount Eval. It so happens that these mountains are the twin sentries for the primary road into Canaan from the East, from Mesopotamia. Anyone who came in that way would pass between these two mountains and the words plastered onto them. And they would, as the text tells us, “See, I set before you this day a blessing and a curse.” (D. 11:26)

What are they seeing? Something quite similar to the entrance conditions posted at every exclusive club in the world!

The Children of Israel, at G-d’s command, put up an entrance sign for all who come into the land, informing every traveler of The Rules, and the consequences for breaking them. Israel is not a land governed by nature or pagan deities. It is a land where each person has Free Will – and consequences (both positive and negative) for the choices that are made within.

The Torah actually goes well beyond this when it adds the following verse:

Are they [the mountains Gerizim and Eval] not on the other side of the Yarden, by the way where the sun goes down, in the land of the Canaanites, who dwell in the Arava over against Gilgal, beside the terebinths of More?

Isn’t this odd? Why does the Torah contain all this detail? Especially when we consider that the “details” contain nothing valuable by way of actual location! Nobody could use them to find the named mountains. So what is this verse doing here?

I think the answer is simple: Each of the phrases in this verse refers to events earlier in the Torah, telling us of the foundational events of the Jewish people and our relationship with G-d and even with each other! We’ll tackle these in order.

“The other side of the Yarden” is first found when Jacob returns to the land, and prays for deliverance from Esau. (G. 32:11) Lesson: This is the land of engagement with G-d, the transformation of mankind through growth and divine deliverance.

“The Sun Goes Down” is used in Genesis three places: the Covenant Between the Parts, and when Jacob dreams of the ladder connecting heaven and earth and makes a covenant. Lesson: This is the land where G-d can appear to you at any time. Israel is the land of covenants and commitments between man and G-d, of individual connections transforming into national destiny.

“The Land of the Canaanites” and “Terebinths of Moreh” are BOTH found in G. 12:6:

And Avram passed through the land to the place of Shekhem unto the terebinth of More. And the Canaanites were then in the land.

Lesson: When you enter this land, you are literally walking in Avraham’s footsteps, recreating and reliving that foundational experience, following G-d’s commandment to “Go!”

Note the the reference to Shechem, where Simeon and Levi took initiative (G. 34), where Joseph searched for his brothers (and was directed by an angel) (G. 37), the land that Joseph inherited and where he was buried. Joseph took more initiative with less instruction than anyone else in the Torah. Joseph was the quintessential Jewish opportunist – he played the cards he was dealt and then some. Joseph, Shechem, represent the ability of Jews to of the Land of Israel. Israel is the land of Jewish creativity – referenced here!

“בָּעֲרָבָ֑ה מ֚וּל” “in the Aravah against” is a phrase only found in the Torah in one other place: the very first verse of Deuteronomy. Lesson: This is the land that incorporates by reference all of Moshe’s grand speech, with all the commandments, blessings, curses, blandishments and condemnations. Including this book adds to the commandment to plaster the entire text of the Torah on the mountain. (D. 27) Lesson: Israel is the land where the Torah forms the foundational house rules for all within.

The Land of Israel thus forms its own geographical bubble, consistent with the Jewish people as a whole. We are given different rules and responsibilities, as set out in the Torah. Unlike the land given to other people, the Land of Israel is never truly ours. Instead, our presence is always conditional on our behavior, on how well we internalize and live by the Torah and all of its laws, precepts and lessons.

Which in turn explains why we are given this verse, a verse that reads like a riddle. Instead of a signpost, we should understand that at the entrance to the Land of Israel, G-d is telling us of the rules for being in the land: that He sets before us a blessing and a curse, an ever-present set of choices, with all the power, responsibility and consequences that come from Free Will.

P.S. There are a host of secondary symbolic connections as well. To take but one example, discussed here: https://creativejudaism.org/2023/12/12/why-this-specific-word/ the reference to “crossing the Jordan” is first found where Jacob speaks of bringing his rod, his makhel. This word does not refer to a staff, but is instead used to describe the rods that Jacob used when breeding the flocks. Makhel refers to the power of using our divinely-gifted powers to transform ourselves and nature, to achieve things that would ordinarily be impossible. This, too, is within the quality of Jewish People in the Land of Israel.

P.P.S. “When the sun goes down” is also used in the text for commandments when dealing with dependents who rely on us (E. 22:26, D. 24:15, etc.). The Land of Israel comes with requirements not only for how we interact with G-d, but also for how we treat others, especially those whom we hold power over. The national identity of the people requires kindness and interpersonal consideration.

Creativejudaism.org

Israel was founded by European Jewish Intellectuals who – with only some exceptions – deeply believed in the power of the intellect to properly order every element of society. In other words, they admired communism. Hence Israel’s national union, kibbutzim and moshavim, state-owned enterprises, and universal conscription to the armed forces.

Israel has retained much of this legacy. When I was a student there, I was forced to join the Student Union, despite my protestations. In the early 1990s I was asked how we can homeschool without access to television. In Israel at the time, television and radio were exclusive mouthpiece to the government. The Israeli questioner asked, without irony, “But without television, how will your children know what they are supposed to think?”

In many ways, Israel has liberalized since then – many fewer things are state owned or controlled. The Unions are weaker. Kibbutzim and Moshavim basically failed. TV and radio now are dominated by the private sector.  But the military… that is another story.

Israel has compulsory service for Jewish men and women, as well as Druze and Circassian men. Non-Druze Arab citizens of Israel (most Muslims, Christians, and Bedouins) are exempt from the draft but may volunteer – thousands choose to do so.

Why? Because the army is the gateway to recognized citizenship within the country. Having served comes with a sense of fellowship, belonging, and automatic acceptance by the society at large in a myriad of ways. Army service is what brings the country together, ensuring there is a sense of a shared mission.

Nevertheless, Israel is a huge exception: certain orthodox Jews (“Charedim”) usually reject assimilating with the rest of Israel. This most prominently is seen in their refusal to serve in the military. As Charedim are over 15% of the population (and growing), this is not a small exception to the rule.

Israel is currently riven by the issue of whether the Charedim (and other dissenters) should be compelled to serve in the military. Both the defenders of universal conscription and the Charedim see the military not solely for national defense, but as a tool to forge social cohesion, to make sure that everyone in that tiny country understands, at their core, the importance of unity under fire.

But social cohesion comes with a lot of baggage: do men and women serve together – even those from backgrounds where casual contact and immodest dress are not found? Should everyone be exposed to the same culture, even if they prefer to stay separated? The army even tells people how to think (like pre-1990s television). Should Charedim voluntarily acquiesce to hostile indoctrination?

These seemingly-unsolvable questions are bringing down the current government. To make things worse, the vast majority of Israelis across the political spectrum, in their hearts, retain the answer of communists, socialists and all totalitarians: use any means necessary to make the Other Guys submit to the way we see it. There is no ethos of freedom at play here. Everyone wants to win, and to do it by publicly humiliating the losers.

Enter the possibility of going in a new direction: a professional army, replacing universal conscription. Here is a great summary of that argument.  Such an army would be cheaper and more capable. It would also eliminate most of the tinder that is fueling this civil war.

Why has Israel not done this before? Because a professional army would end the founding dream within Israel of the army as the universal social glue, the great collective unification of The People coming together to defend Israel against those who seek to exterminate the 19 million remaining Jews in the world of 8.5 billion people.

The challenge to Israel moving to a professional army is not economic or practical or even about effectiveness in battle. There is no question that a paid army of professionals would be far more elite and successful than citizens who are routinely called up for reserve duty.

No, the challenge is about the foundational culture of the country, and whether Israel needs to see itself as having a shared national mission with shared sacrifice spread across the entire populace. I can see the virtue in it – but I also think that it is time to shake loose those remaining socialist shackles.

The icing on the cake, at least to the military planners who are paying attention, is the growing realization that infantry (briefly trained foot soldiers) are becoming much less important and valuable. The Ukraine War has shown that drones (airborne as well as naval and ground) can in fact conquer and hold terrain. The robots are here, and they have performed everything from minesweeping to beach landings and armored assault inland. It means that if Israel has the drones (and the AI/software to make the most of them), the Israeli military will require a lot less manpower than it did. There is no reason that future wars will require that thousands of young men and women will be cut down in their prime. Drones can be designed, built, programmed and operated far from the front lines, and from behind desks – and all by dedicated professionals.

In a drone war, unity in combat quickly becomes an historical artifact – just as the citizen army should.

Inertia is powerful. Perhaps nothing will change and the civil war will continue. But I very much hope otherwise.

 

Creativejudaism.org

Over a decade ago, a lovely old lady who lived down the block from us complimented my #1 son on his hat, explaining that, “a man isn’t fully dressed without a hat; it brings together his entire appearance.”

In this case, that briefest of comment landed on target, forever changing my son’s life. Because to this day, #1 son thinks of that lovely lady every time he leaves the house, and remembers to snag one of his cowboy hats. He remembers that Mrs. Brilliant (her real name) told him that this is how a man comports himself, and she was not the sort of lady one would ever want to disappoint.

Mrs. Brilliant passed away last week, at the full age of 98. She had experienced separation from her parents at 4, the kindertransport to Wales at 8, immigrating to America at 17, marriage at 40 (with two children who followed), and a lifetime of familial and communal dedication and service. When anyone needed someone to step in and help, she was there.

Indeed, her smile and words lifted everyone up, all the time. Mrs. Brilliant was the very embodiment of how seemingly little things become the glue and then the foundation for all the really important big things.

And, perhaps thanks to the combination of a German and British upbringing, she advocated for all things to be done in the right way, with a sense of ongoing duty and propriety. Even wearing a hat in public. She invariably would ask her children and grandchildren “whether that sort of thing would be acceptable in Buckingham Palace?”

I remember going to a funeral of another long-lived matriarch. Her granddaughters stood up and gave their impressions. They told of a woman who insisted that condiments should never be served at the table in the original packaging. The young ladies found this all vaguely preposterous. And it was a shame that they did not realize that their grandmother had been highly accomplished, serving on boards and as a trustee for many important charitable and communal organizations. All the children noticed was that ketchup bottles did not go on the dinner table.

So on the one hand, I despaired that the granddaughters missed the bigger story. But on the other hand, it could well be that making meals into formal rituals contains within it something very much like wearing a hat: the little things all add up. The distinctions we create and preserve in our lives are markers of civilization itself.

The forces of darkness work to blur all of that away. Formal dinners are on the wane. Dressing and comporting ourselves properly is something we think of when we think of our parents and grandparents. Because today we see people on airplanes or at meetings wearing pajamas. We have a world in which boys and girls are indistinguishable, where marriage no longer is holy, where love is explained away as being nothing more than a biochemical artifact.

Indeed, a key part of being “progressive” in the modern age is the desire – the need – to blur all the lines. To eliminate all senses of propriety. And to attack all formalized religions.

Because one of the things that old and stodgy religions – as well as wise matriarchs– understand, is that decorum and being in the right place at the right time are deeply important. In courtrooms you must dress and act in accordance with a code. The same is true in a house of worship or as a guest in someone else’s house. Like wearing a hat or not dispensing ketchup from the bottle.

Judaism and Christianity, underpinning the Western Civilization that is so loathed by the left, require different rules for different places and times. This is not imposed ritual by old white men. It is as old as the texts itself. To bring but one example:

These are the laws and rules that you must carefully observe in the land that the Lord, G-d of your ancestors, is giving you to possess, as long as you live on earth. You must destroy all the sites at which the nations you are to dispossess worshiped their gods, whether on lofty mountains and on hills or under any luxuriant tree. Tear down their altars, smash their pillars, put their sacred posts to the fire, and cut down the images of their gods, obliterating their name from that site. (D. 12)

But note that Jews are NOT commanded to tear down the “holy” sites of paganism anywhere except within the Land of Israel! This is quite deliberate. There is a place for those who think differently – and the Torah does not condemn those people or their practices. All it does is say that these practises do not belong in our holy land.

This approach allows for both toleration and principle. It creates the conditions for diversity of thought without abandoning one’s own principles. This is essentially America in its heyday – a place where all are free to worship as they see fit, with nobody possessing the right to attack or burn or condemn the religious choices of others. It is also clearly an ideal that is very much on the defensive in an age where religion is seen as the enemy of progress.

It all comes full circle. Dressing and speaking like a gentleman or lady is a choice we make when we create our own environments. It does not mean that we force our choices on others, but that we recognize that being good and holy – or happy – are not the result of a single Big Decision; they are the result of a lifetime of little choices, of always trying to consciously better ourselves, be nice to others, and never ignoring the little things.

Mrs. Brilliant would have it no other way.