Weekly Parsha

Rabbi Eliezer Rubin

Before Prime Minister Netanyahu’s visit to Congress, there was a wide range of opinions, even in our own community, about the Prime Minister's decision to speak to Congress. Many felt that defying the President of the United States was disrespectful and ill-conceived. The Prime Minister argued that it was his responsibility, as Israel’s leader, to make the case for her survival and to advocate for her national interests whenever and wherever he was invited.  Whereas arguments can be made about the wisdom and timing of his appearance, the Prime Minister of Israel deserved our attention and respect when he addressed Congress.

My position was informed by a responsum written by Rav Kook, which appears in Mishpat Kohen, Responsum 144, page 337. In this essay, Rav Kook explains that in Biblical times, the King’s authority influenced the entire nation. However, when the Jewish people were no longer led by a king, but by civil laws and judges, as enacted by a government, the people were influenced by national leaders and judges in ways similar to how they would by a king. In this respect, governmental authority shares characteristics of kingship. Both structures of governance influence the entire nation, both can declare war and both are responsible for and to the people. Therefore the Prime Minister, as well as other national leaders, assume the prominence of a king of Israel and by extension they must be afforded our respect.

Rav Kook, who wrote this essay in 1926, never lived to see a sovereign Jewish government. He died in 1935. As a frame of reference, he looked back at the Hashmonaim and portended to the eventuality of Jewish leadership in Israel. His understanding of Jewish leadership was informed by the fundamental belief that Jewish sovereignty over the land of Israel is a manifestation of religious belief.

Ramban (1194 – 1270), also envisioned the foundations of Jewish settlement in Israel as an expression of our commitment to and belief in Torah. Stating that it is a positive commandment to live and settle in the land of Israel, he adds that it is our responsibility to ensure that the land is not laid barren, but cultivated and developed. The Ramban, who could have never dreamed of the birth of Zionism at the turn of the 20^th century, encouraged settling the land of Israel as an expression of religious belief.

Taken together, these two views, although separated by centuries, are the foundational philosophies of religious Zionism. Zionism is more than a return of exiles, settling the land, and creating a vibrant economy with innovating technology. Zionism is an expression of religious faith and a manifestation of our commitment to mitzvot.

As such, Yom Haatzmaut takes on an additional identity. It is a day dedicated to recognizing and expressing appreciation for the opportunity to reestablish Jewish sovereignty over the land of Israel, not only in practical and political ways but also as part of our religious imperative. It is a privilege to live in a time of miracles, and so it is our obligation to express our thanks to God for the opportunity to reestablish Jewish sovereignty over the land of Israel. Ramban and Rav Kook would have joined us in reciting Hallel had they been privileged to celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut.

Rabbi Murray Sragow

The seventh day of Pesach commemorates kriyat Yam Suf, and for this reason the layning for that day is entirely the story of kriyat Yam Suf, as told in Parshat B’Shalach.

Well, almost all of the layning. For some reason, the final aliyah continues a few more psukim and includes the story of Marah. There the Jews complained for lack of water, Hashem showed Moshe how to miraculously sweeten the water, and then Hashem gave the Jews a few mitzvot.

Why is this episode tacked on to the end of the layning? What does it add? It does not seem relevant at all to the kriyat Yam Suf story. Furthermore, why does Hashem choose this occasion to give the Jews some mitzvot? And finally, the last pasuk is especially strange. There Hashem tells the Jews that if they observe the mitzvot, they will be protected from the sort of things that happened to the Egyptians, for “I Hashem am your doctor.” Why the medical analogy?

Rabbi David Benovitz, our former member, suggests an interesting approach. Perhaps Hashem was dissatisfied with the impression He left at kriyat Yam Suf, and wanted to show another side of Himself. At Yam Suf, and prior to that throughout the yetziat Mitzrayim story, all miracles had been destructive. Blood ruined the water, pestilence ruined the animals, Hashem Himself killed the first-born Egyptians, and finally He drowned the Egyptian army. While all that was necessary, the resultant impression in the minds of the Jews was that Hashem was only a force that you hoped to unleash on your enemies.

Only at Marah do the Jews discover that Hashem’s power can (literally) be sweet. It can help improve your life, not only ruin that of your enemy. That’s why Hashem chose that moment to share mitzvot with us. He wanted the mitzvot to be associated with goodness. Similarly, that’s why Hashem calls himself “your doctor.” His power gives life to those He favors.

And that’s why Marah is the true end of the kriyat Yam Suf story, and why we read it on Shevii Shel Pesach. It wasn’t enough for Hashem to drown the Egyptians. Only after the Jews saw Hashem as a force for good could their relationship be cemented. And since the whole point of yetziat Mitzrayim was for the Jews to serve Hashem, the final step in that process needed to be the sweetness of the waters of Marah, not the destructive waters of Yam Suf.

Rabbi Ezra Wiener

One of the distinguishing characteristics of a korban chatat (sin offering) as opposed to a korban shelamim (peace offering) is the location in which the offering may be eaten. A korban chatat must be eaten (by the kohanim) within the confines of the courtyard of the mikdash yet a korban shelamim may be eaten quite a distance from the mikdash as long as one is within the walls of Jerusalem. The author of Nachalat Binyamin explains that this distinction reflects the very nature of the korban itself. The korban chatat is brought by a sinner who wishes to atone for his transgression. As a ba’al teshuva of sorts, he remains vulnerable to recurrence of his sin, and the presence of the kohanim in the mikdash as they consume his offering is a reminder that he, too, must remain, figuratively, within the nearly tangible presence of G-d. He cannot afford to stray too far from the mikdash lest he experience a lapse in his observance and repeat his sin. In contrast, the korban shelamim is offered by a Jew who is already motivated to draw near to his Creator. He, ostensibly, is capable of finding G-d even outside the confines of the mikdash. Thus, he may eat from his korban throughout the entire city of Jerusalem.