The tragic story of mankind’s second generation unfolds as Cayin and Hevel, the sons of Adam and Chavah, each bring an offering to God. God accepts Hevel and his offering, but rejects Cayin’s efforts.

Unable to accept a divine rejection which he feels is both without reason and unreasonable, a despondent and enraged Cayin murders his brother.

God responds to this horrific act of fratricide by sending Cayin into permanent exile.

A glaring textual omission emerges at the climactic moment of the Cayin and Hevel story. he Torah states: “And Cayin said to Hevel his brother, and it was when they were in the field, and Cayin rose up upon Hevel his brother and killed him.”

What did Cayin say? Why does the Torah introduce a conversation which it then fails to record?

The Rabbis in the Midrash Rabbah suggest three possible conversations which might have led to the fateful physical confrontation between Cayin and Hevel.

1. The brothers determined to divide the world. One took possession of the land, while the other claimed all movable items. As soon as the division took effect, one said to the other ‘you are standing upon my land!’ while the other replied ‘you are wearing my clothes!’ A struggle ensued, and Cayin killed Hevel.

2. Their dispute centered upon the Beit Hamikdash, the Holy Temple (which would be built by the Jewish Nation millennia later). After they divided both the land and the movables equally, Cayin and Hevel both claimed dominion over the Temple; each wanted it built in his domain. A struggle ensued, and Cayin killed Hevel.

3. Cayin and Hevel actually fought over their mother (or alternatively, one of their sisters; a midrash teaches that they were both born with twin sisters).

The Midrash seems to raise more questions than answers.

Can the Rabbis suggest that they know the content of a conversation omitted by the biblical text? Does the Midrash reflect prophetic vision, or were the Rabbis somehow present at the scene of Hevel’s murder?

Further, each of the rabbinic suggestions seems more bizarre than the next. How can we seriously consider, for example, that Cayin and Hevel actually argued about the Temple? The very concept of the Beit Hamikdash would not be introduced into human experience until centuries after their death. Similarly, no clue is found in the Biblical text to support the contention that Cayin and Hevel argued either about material wealth or about a woman.

Simply put, how are we to understand the midrashic approach to the struggle between Cayin and Hevel?

This seemingly strange rabbinic passage actually provides us with a perfect entrée into the world of midrash.

There is a vast difference between pashut pshat (straightforward explanation of a biblical text) and
midrash (rabbinical exegesis).

When we operate within the world of pshat, we search for the direct meaning of the text before us. In this realm, everything is literal and concrete.

When we enter the world of midrash, however, the rules change completely. Midrashim are vehicles through which the Rabbis, using the Torah text as a point of departure, transmit significant messages and lessons. As such, midrashim are not necessarily meant to be taken literally; nor are they are to be seen as attempts to explain the factual meaning of a specific Torah passage.

By using the vehicle of midrash to convey eternal lessons and values, the Rabbis connect these values to the Torah text itself. They also insure that the lessons will not be lost and will always be perceived as flowing directly from the Torah.

Our task, therefore, when we enter this world, is to discover the global lessons the Rabbis want to convey.

In the midrash before us, they are not simply explaining the story. They see this first violent event in human history as the prototype of physical confrontation across the ages. True to midrashic style, they express significant global observations in concrete, storylike, terms.

Fundamentally, the Rabbis make the following statement here: We were not present when Cayin killed Hevel. We cannot glean any information directly from the biblical text concerning this dispute. Ask us, then, what these brothers were struggling about and we would be forced to suggest one of three options.

Over the course of human history, man has killed his brother for material gain, over religion, and out of lust. All bloodshed and warfare can be traced to these three basic primary sources. We, therefore, are certain that one of these issues served as the basis of the confrontation between Cayin and Hevel at the dawn of human history.

This rabbinic commentary serves as a sobering reminder that humankind has not moved an inch off the killing field of Hevel’s murder. In spite of perceived social progress, nothing has fundamentally changed. The causes of human conflict have remained remarkably constant across the face of time.

This midrashic approach remains sadly relevant, centuries after its authorship.

If the 20th century gave lie to any assumption at all, it was to the assumption that scientific and technological progress automatically would be accompanied by moral advancement. The century which gave us the Shoah reminds us that in many ways we have simply gotten better at killing each other.

So far, as we confront the pandemic of Moslem fundamentalism, the 21st century isn’t looking much better.

As perceptive as this midrash may be, however, it fails to answer the original textual question which we raised. Once again, why doesn’t the Torah tell us what Cayin said to Hevel? Why introduce a conversation, but leave its content unrecorded?

On one level, we could simply answer that God wants us to fill in the blanks. Sometimes, a portion of the Torah is left unfinished in order to make us partners in the text. God challenges us to read into that text the myriad possible lessons that are relevant to our lives.

Had the Torah told us the content of Cayin’s dialogue with Hevel; the questions would not have been asked, no midrash would have been written and a fundamental lesson would have never been conveyed.

There may, however, be an even deeper and more powerful reason for the Torah’s omission here.

It edits out the content of Cayin’s words to Hevel, because God wants us to understand that those words, whatever they might have been, were of no ultimate consequence. Sometimes an act is so depraved that its cause and motivation are unimportant; no valid excuse can be offered.

Perhaps Cayin had justifiable grievances against his brother. We will never know. Cayin loses all claims upon our empathy and understanding the moment he murders his brother. Nothing can explain that heinous act; nothing can justify it.

Once again, the eternal Torah text, this time through omission, delivers a message which is frighteningly applicable to our time. No matter what their cause, acts of terror, mayhem and murder perpetrated against innocent victims are inexcusable. The perpetrators of these crimes, through their very actions, render their own potential grievances irrelevant.

God wants us to know that Cayin said something to Hevel. He also wants to us to know, however, that what Cayin said ultimately doesn’t matter. The text conveys this lesson in the only way that it can. We are told that a conversation took place, but we are not told the content of that conversation.

Sometimes the Torah teaches us, not by what is included in the text, but by what is left out.

“There are just too many Jewish Holidays this month,” is a complaint that I hear from many people. “There are so many Jewish holidays this month,” is a joyous exclamation that I hear from many people.

There is some truth to both these statements as was understood by our ancients who explained that these days make up for the fact that the three summer months do not have holidays. We have Rosh Hoshanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot to make up for that fact, and Shemini Atzeret is the holiday for Tishri.

We hear a great deal about the Days of Awe, and they are recognized in the public media and are well known.

The Festival of Sukkot is not as well known nor is it observed by the majority of Jews. In fact, many of the rituals, customs, and traditions are not part of the lives of many Jews.

However, those who read publications such as this one are aware of the many wonderful aspects of Sukkot. We have advertisements for Sukkot, for help in building, decorating, and the recipes and menus for the food that we will consume in them. There are endless descriptions of the qualities to look for when we purchase an etrog, lulav, willow, and myrtle branches. We have many different traditions in the way and different directions we shake the four species. When you attend services on Sukkot, there is a great deal of shaking going on. You sit, then stand, and shake, and do it some more. You march around the Synagogue in a procession of waving palm fonds. One woman who was experiencing traditional services for the first time exclaimed that now she was aware of Jewish Aerobics.

Please don’t forget the special guests, the “Ushpizim,” who we invite to join as our guests in the Sukkah. Each day another spiritual guest is featured. There are the traditional lists, there are lists of male and female guests from ancient and modern history, there are also families who request that when you are invited to their Sukkah you bring along a “spiritual guest”, a person or personality who had a great influence on your life. Indeed we can find agricultural echoes in the observance of Sukkot as well as historical, and spiritual aspects in the many traditions.

For me, the seventh day of Sukkot has special meanings. It is called Hoshanah Rabbah. Some wear white, as on Yom Kippur, some sound the Shofar as on Rosh Hashanah. The melodies of the prayer service follow those of the weekday, festival and High Holy Days prayers. As a reminder of the Water Service in our ancient Holy Temple, we circle the bimah, or the synagogue, in procession, seven times with our etrog and lulav and then we take a bundle of 5 willow branches and beat them 3 times. Some say this is to emulate the sound of rain and rushing water. Others connect this activity to the belief that this is the end of the period of repentance; and by stripping off willow leaves, we can strip away virtual sins. On Rosh Hashanah our decree is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed, on Hoshanah Rabbah it is made ready and it is delivered

The Zohar calls Hoshanah Rabbah the Day of the Willow, the day of the simple person. Just as the willow that is beaten on that day is valid if it has even one leaf, so is a Jew with only one good deed, one positive attribute, is sufficient to stand before the Lord.

Please do not neglect Shemini Atzeret, the eighth day that is a holiday unto itself, but is treated as the last day of Sukkot, with Simchat Torah an added festival.

For this year, I am advocating for Hoshanah Rabbah. We all need a connection to our agricultural heritage and our environmental awareness. When we chant the appropriate readings, as we march around the synagogue seven times with our etrog and lulav sets, we hear the connection between prayer and the physical world in which we live. When the seasons of the year are not kind to humans, crops, and the environment, we realize how perilous is our existence. It is important that we understand the need to connect morally and ethically with others to help those in crises and to help ward off further degradation of our environment. Ancient prayers for water, in its season, echo in our lives today and help us to feel connected to the past, the future, and the present.

Spiritually, it is important for us to understand the concept — that even when the Gates are closing at Neilah on Yom Kippur, we have more opportunities to influence the decree. The Kabalistic tradition also tells us that if we dance with real spiritual gusto, and our world is filled with positive joy, we can confuse the messengers who might be bringing a negative decree and convince them that all is well with us.

Indeed, we know that each of us should live every day as if it were our last. Hopefully we can find a way to “clear our record” each day. Remember, the season of repentance concludes with Hoshana Rabbah, but the “Gates” are always open.

Attending a Hoshanah Rabbah Service is a guarantee that you will have an opportunity to awaken important parts of your neshamah. It is an intensive, involving experience that may help you make a difference in your world.

May we, our families, our communities, and all of God’s children be able to receive only good qvittles, divine print-outs, for this year and for years to come.

These High Holidays involve a profound question: “to forgive, or not to forgive?”

The rabbis, and the machzor they wrote, speak of three types of forgiveness that we sing about when we sing “slach lanu, m’chal lanu, kaper lanu.” There is kapparah—the ultimate forgiveness granted only by God. There is slichah, which involves achieving an empathy for the troubledness of the other, and there is mechilah, when the offender sincerely apologizes and the sinned-against relinquishes their claim against the one who did wrong.

Kapparah works well when the sinner feels remorse, and wants a fresh start. Slichah works well when the sinner is still around to make amends. Mechilah works well when the possibility of teshuvah remains.

But what if the sinner is unrepentant? What if the sinner died unrepentantly, or is out of the victim’s life? Still further, what if you don’t know who exactly committed the transgression? And what if the sin itself seems absolutely unforgivable? The traditional categories of forgiveness seem no longer to apply. Are the victims of the offenses in these cases to be left helplessly hostage for all time to the sinner, a kind of aguna, like the traditional Jewish wife whose husband refuses to give a divorce?

I feel passionately that we should each pursue mechila, slichah, and kaparah in these days of awe, and every day for that matter.

On the other hand, there are those among us today who have been abused, victimized. Can it really be true that, if the sinner either refuses or missed his or her opportunity to repent, that there is no Jewish context in which the victim can escape this pain? Can the abused daughter, the abandoned spouse, the son whose mother died without making peace, truly find no liberation from this bondage? What will their victims do, if such people will never repent their evil ways?

Sins committed against us can cause great pain and suffering. They can cause a darkness to fall over your soul. With every insult and every assault, we lose trust and faith and our belief that life could be different. We lose our innocence, the belief that life is essentially good.

In the face of evil, perhaps in spite of it, we have the opportunity to choose good. Not to condone evil. Not to turn the other cheek. And never to forget. But rather, to let go of the darkness that has entered our souls. To let go of the control that evil can have over us. To let go of the pain. To let go of the fear. If this process is not to take place by the usual process of forgiveness handed down to us by the Jewish generations—if this pain will find no balm in mechila, slichah, or kaparah, perhaps it’s time for a new category that we, survivors of sin, can control. Perhaps we might call it shachrira. Like the other words for forgiveness, shachrira has many connotations; it’s basic meaning, though, is: a letting go, a liberating, a redeeming.

In the face of unrepented sin, shachrira is an essential and primal release of the poison and brokenness that has entered your soul. You acknowledge the loss of innocence, trust, and faith. You rage against the sin that was committed against you. And you accept, with a lot of self-love, and the support of family and friends and therapists, and others, the narrative that has become your life. For you have survived, and your life’s path can send you forth to bear witness to the ultimate tenacity and triumph of the good that is in the human spirit. Place the evil in the past; it does not have to be your present reality. Then you will let go of the curse over your life, little by little. Shachrer lanu, O, God. Liberate us, and help us free ourselves.

While we do not, and cannot, forgive evil, we can shift the focus from the offender, and the offense that he or she committed, to the deep and undying desire of the victim to regain equilibrium and control over their lives. Shachrira means regaining control over your life.

But wait, I hear you saying. You want me to forgive my partner who left me? You want me to forgive the person who abused me? You want me to forgive the person who committed a crime against me or someone I love?

And my answer is: yes, I want you to forgive them. Not to excuse them. Not to say what they did is acceptable, but to forgive as a way of saying that someone who would do any of these kinds of things has no right to live inside your head any more than they have a right to live inside your house. Why give a man or woman like that the power to turn you into a bitter, vengeful person? They do not deserve that power over you.

As Rabbi Harold Kushner teaches, forgiveness is not a favor we do for the person who offended us. It is a favor we do for ourselves, cleansing our souls of thoughts and memories that lead us to see ourselves as victims and make our lives less enjoyable. When we understand that we have little choice as to what other people do but we can always choose how we will respond to what they do, we can let go of those embittering memories and enter the New Year clean and fresh.

The world is filled with potential. The question “to forgive, or not to forgive?” is a fork in the road. Our choices are to change, to love, or to fear. To be forever tied to loss and pain, or to search for places where there is abundant love that is sustained by a source, deep and invisible, like an oasis in the desert.

Let it go.

Let it go and it no longer has a hold on you.

Letting it go denies its power over you.

Shachrer lanu, O God. Release us, and help us release ourselves. When we forgive, we learn to come to terms with the story of our lives, and release the pain of the past. When we forgive, we refuse to remain victims of those who hurt us. When we forgive, we refuse to let them continue to bring us pain—not across the miles, not across the years, not even across the grave. When we forgive, we choose life and love over death and fear. When we forgive the people closest to us, the living and the dead, when we heal the wounds and release old hurts, we will in fact become new people: more open, more loving, more confident, as we step forward into this New Year.

Keyn Yehi Ratzon.

“Can I have a word with you?”

What a misleading question! We all know that anyone who makes this request of us has more than “a word” to share. And it’s also a question that often raises our levels of anxiety. Is this “word” to be one of rebuke, or praise or love or accusation or forgiveness? Is it to be the “last word” in an on-going dialogue or the opening word to an entirely novel topic? But what is certain is that one word leads to the next and we soon find ourselves in conversation.

We Jews also approach God this time of year with that same question. “May I have a word with You?” Indeed, the words are many. Words of praise and words of penitence. Words which we may utter each year during the Yamim Noraim but which may assume different meanings each time we say them.

Words figure prominently in both the Torah and Haftarah portions we read this year on Shabbat Shuvah. Moses prays at the beginning of Parashat Ha’azinu that his words be heard: “Let the earth hear the utterings of my mouth.” His words are those of praise of God and yet another admonition to the people of both God’s love and the divine consequences of disobedience.

Words reflect another dimension at the beginning of the Haftarah of Shabbat Shuvah from the prophet Hosea. Hosea marries a prostitute, Gomer, and when she returns to her old ways, God nonetheless commands Hosea to take her back. The metaphor is obvious — Hosea’s forgiveness of Gomer’s unfaithful ways is but a mirror of God’s forgiveness of an unfaithful Jewish people.

And the vehicle for that forgiveness — words. “Take words with you and return to the Lord. Say to Him ‘Forgive all guilt and accept what is good; instead of bulls we will pay the offering of our lips.’”

Yes, in Hosea’s time our people brought offerings for forgiveness yet Hosea also suggests that offerings without the proper words are incomplete. The right words combined with the right action produce the right results.

The intense emphasis on the healing power of words on Shabbat Shuvah reminds us of the destructive potential of words. From the Torah’s rebuke of Miriam over slanderous words about Moses’ wife to the Chofetz Chayim’s work on gossip and evil speech (lashon harah), our tradition is replete with often-intense warnings about the power of words. In fact, evil speech is even compared to murder.

How appropriate is that Rabbinic understanding in our own times! New York State Senator Jeffrey Klein (D – Bronx, Westchester) has just proposed a law making cyber-bullying a felony; and if that cyber-bulling results in the death of the victim, that crime could be considered second degree manslaughter. Such a bill comes in response not just to the agony of victims of cyber-bullying but to the tragic suicides of young people harassed through the misuse of contemporary technologies.

In contemporary society, the misuse of the word is becoming a cultural norm, I fear.

Reality TV elevates “evil speech” to a whole new level, or shall I say, reduces humanity to a new low level.

If you can stand it, watch Judge Judy. Remember that all of these television court shows copy Judge Joseph Wapner, a man of deep humanity who even in this context of justice as entertainment brought a sense of reconciling disputes between people in honor and justice. Listen to the words with which Judge Judy humiliates, chastises, derides, mocks, and ridicules those who appear before her.

Ratings and ad revenues seem to rise on how evil one person can be to the next and how the target of those words can become the source of amusement of American audiences. Have you ever listened to the “judges” in any of those copy-cat talent shows Survivor or Big Brother or any other of those shows predicated on deceiving and ultimately ejecting other people from the game?

I think there is a very Jewish response with some very Jewish words and actions to the evils caused by hateful words. Support both legislation and policies which protect the bullied. Tell the networks and the advertisers that our Jewish laws and Jewish ethics do not countenance the humiliations of a Judge Judy or the plethora of mean-spirited reality shows. Say the words—and change the channel (and there are certainly enough other viewing options these days).

Perhaps we should translate the Hosea passage a bit creatively in the spirit of these Yamim Noraim—”Take with you the right words….” As we engage in this process of Cheshbon Hanefesh—self-accounting—let us strive to have a word not just with God but also a good word with our fellow human being. And if enough of us model that behavior to a world sorely in need of civility in discourse, then those right words will bring about the right outcome in our world.

Gmar Chatimah Tovah

May you all be sealed in the Book of Life for a year of health, happiness and prosperity.

Seven days. That’s all that are left. In seven days, we will be standing in our synagogues to begin the daunting task of doing teshuvah.

In seven days, we will begin to examine our lives to discover the flaws in our characters and to determine how to correct those flaws in the year 5772.

It helps, of course, to know what it is that we are supposed to repent from. Here is the bottom-line: We must repent for violating the laws of God.

In other words, we must repent for failing to observe the mitzvot that God commanded us and that Moses wrote down for us in the Torah.

That is what the Torah portion tells us this week: “Listen to the voice of the Lord your God, to keep His commandments and His statutes which are written in this book of the Torah....”

This week, too, the Torah makes it clear that observing the commandments, that observing the mitzvot, is not as difficult as we would like to believe: “For this commandment which I command you this day, is not hidden from you, nor is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it to us, that we may hear it, and do it?’ Nor is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it to us, that we may hear it, and do it?’ But the word is very near to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, that you may do it.”

What these verses mean should be obvious to all. The laws that are in the Torah are not beyond the capacity of human beings to observe.

If you make a good faith effort to follow the laws, that will do. You do not have to be a saint, or an angel. You simply have to do the best that you can.

This week’s Torah portion also makes clear that Moses wrote “the Torah.” It says so over and again.

“And Moses wrote this Torah, and delivered it to the priests the sons of Levi, who carried the ark of the covenant of the Lord, and to all the elders of Israel.”

What that actually means, “Moses wrote this Torah,” we do not know for certain, but from the context of this week’s parashah we can offer a suggestion: The Torah that Moses wrote is the record of the laws God spoke. In other words, the laws of the Torah are the laws God gave Moses and that Moses gave us.

Those laws are contained in this “Torah of Moses.”

Even though someone else, or maybe a dozen or a hundred dozen someone elses, may have added the narrative portions to the Torah, the laws in this Torah represent the legitimate and revealed word of God, as transmitted to us by Moses.

Thus, the laws we must repent for not observing are the laws of this Torah. It really is as simple as that.

Only, it is not that simple.

When we examine the “For the sins of” litany that we recite on Yom Kippur, what we do not see there are the ritual mitzvot. There is no “for the sin of” for not keeping kosher; for not keeping Shabbat; for not wearing tzitzit or tefilin.

Indeed, when we examine the mission of Israel, when we examine what it means to be a kingdom of priests and holy nation, we realize very quickly that it is not about observing ritual, but improving behavior. Specifically, it is about improving the behavior of the world; it is about tikkun olam, repairing the world.

That is our mission and it has nothing to do with ritual.

It is fairly easy, then, to dismiss the ritual commandments and say, “all I need to do is to be a good person and I will have fulfilled my obligations to God. All I need to do is act morally and ethically, and I will have fulfilled the words of this Torah.”

Well, “this Torah” says otherwise, and it says it in this week’s parashah. This week’s parashah makes clear that God expects us to observe the Torah, all of it. There is no granting here of the privilege to pick and choose.

Nowhere here can you find what was in the Torah that Moses gave the priests to place beside the ark. Elsewhere, we are told “this is the Torah of the sin-offering” and “this is the Torah of the heave-offering,” and so on. Here, the term “Torah” is unspecified, undefined. It simply says Moses gave them the Torah and that we are obligated to observe that Torah.

This also means there is no one law that is greater than another; no one obligation that outweighs another; no difference between one mitzvah and the next. All are equal; all must be observed.

We make a serious mistake when we confuse our mission for God with our obligations to God. Technically speaking, it is not our job “to be good and to do good”; it is not our job to be moral and ethical.

It is our job to observe the laws of the Torah, all of them, without exception. If we do that, we will be good and we will do good; we will be moral and ethical.

We will thus fulfill the task of teaching the world that there is a better way to live, but we will be doing it on God’s terms, not our own, and God’s terms are the only valid ones.

We need to consider this as we prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and the Ten Days of Repentance in between.

There is one “for the sin of” that does not appear in the list that should be there: For the sin we have committed before You by selective observance of Your mitzvot.

We are all of us guilty of that sin and all of us must atone for it. That’s what this week’s parashah tells us we must do: “And you shall return to the Lord your God, and shall obey His voice according to all that I command you this day.”

Ki Tavo is one of two portions that contain a tochacha. A tochacha is a frightening prediction of what might happen to us if we do not follow the laws (of God) that we are commanded to follow. As you read each line of the tochacha it is not hard to see that at several points in time we (the people of Israel) have suffered from many of the very predictions so vividly described in this week’s portion.

The tochacha is preceded by a much shorter promise of all the good things that would transpire if we would indeed obey God’s laws.

Sadly, the Shoah represented all too many of the horror stories predicted; and those who survived the concentration camps have recorded in detail the crimes against humanity that clearly mimic the gory predictions of the tochacha. However, we have also witnessed some of the miracles predicted for obeying God’s laws found in the blessings that precede the tochacha.

Since 1948 we have witnessed the times that our far more numerous enemies fled from us in a multitude of directions. We have witnessed a strong population growth against all odds in Israel. We have benefited from a strong Israeli economy that impacts every critical area of scientific discovery around the world. And of late, we are beginning to discover a huge oil and natural gas basin in Israeli territory that can change the entire structure of the oil economy round the world. The Leviathan fields in the Mediterranean potentially hold more oil than that possessed by Saudia Arabia. We’ve got the (zayit) olives, we’ve got the (d’vash) honey, and finally we have the (shemen) oil to go along with it. At long last we can be a land of z’et, shemen, u’dvash that God promised us many times.

But beware. Sentence 14 of chapter 28 in Ki Tavo clearly warns us of what we must do in order to preserve the “good times.” “Do not turn away from all the things I command you, to the left or to the right, to walk after another god and worship it.”

Today we are challenged by extremists of the left and the right that endanger the general welfare of the State of Israel. On the right we have religious lunatics who pretend to be pious while they meet with Iranian President Ahmadinejad on Shabbat in Tehran. Likewise, they often violate numerous Shabbat ordinances and other basic human laws by throwing rocks and hurting others on Shabbat. In order to prevent or discourage Shabbat violation they violate it themselves. In order to prove their love for G-d they plot with Jew haters to destroy Israel; how utterly shameful and absolutely ridiculous. They endanger the safety and welfare of all Jews the world over.

On the left we have the self-hating Jew who has found a new god to worship: the god of assimilation that condemns brit milah, that says we should forget about kashrut and eat pork and shrimp; the god of liberalism and the god of submission (to the Arabs), the god that tells them to pretend to be pro-Israel while supporting every anti-Israel initiative and supporting every pro-Arab one. A god that tells them to demonstrate and protest for the Arabs while ignoring every important issue that would in any way cast them in the role of truly pro-Israel people. When was the last time you read about these so-called pro-Israel organizations protesting missiles and rockets being shot into Sderot, Ashkelon, and the rest of Israel? When was the last time you saw representatives crying about the blood of Israel’s women and children intentionally targeted by the Arab terrorists? When did those (leftist) organizations sponsor a new ambulance for Magen David Adom?

Israel stands on a precipice. We can move forward to all of the blessings promised in the Torah if all of us can once again become part of Am Yisroel. The bleeding hearts of the left and the so-called ultra-religious right together endanger the existence, future prosperity, and self defense of Israel, as well as the health and welfare of Jews worldwide. Should these two forces, which have absolutely no use for each other, succeed, Jews the world over will witness the destruction of the State of Israel and we will once again be a people without a homeland. We will be subject to the whims of tyrants all around the world with nobody out there to save us. Make no mistake about it, if Israel disappears, things will not be very good for the Jews – even in this United States of America.

If you think it can’t happen again in Europe, or it can’t happen here, guess again. Have you read about anti-kashrut measures around the world? How about anti-circumcision measures in San Francisco, San Diego, and elsewhere in CA? How about Jews in Hungary being called “stinking excrement” in a major Hungarian daily, the Magyar Hirlap? How about a Rutgers Middle East outreach professional calling a Jewish student a “racist Zionist pig” for speaking out for Israel and receiving no follow-up consequences? Shechitah is being banned in Holland; Norway bans shechitah but is allowing Muslims to slaughter Halal meat. Sweden, Luxembourg, and Switzerland also ban kosher schechitah. You can be sure more European countries are going to follow. Banning shechitah and brit milah were two of the first moves by the Nazis; this should tell us something. We need Israel a whole lot more than Israel needs us.

Jews, regardless of their level of religious observance, must support and stand up for brit milah and kashrut. Likewise, we all need to support Israel. If we don’t, rest assured that the punishments of the tochacha in this week’s portion will be upon us in a way that will make the Holocaust and Inquisition look like child’s play.

May the tochacha (warning) that we read this week serve its purpose to wake the Jewish people from their slumber, cure their self-hatred, and learn the lessons of their political ineptitude. We have been warned; it is now time to act.

This week’s parashah, Ki Tetze, is unique in that it contains more individual mitzvot than any other parashah in the Torah. Every verse opens a door to entire fields of law, and beyond that the ethical and philosophical issues that underline the values that the laws express. The parashah covers the broadest sweep of topics from family law to criminal law to business law to matters of pure ritual such as the prohibition of mixed seeds and the commandment to wear tzitzit (fringes) on four-cornered garments.

Yet it is no accident that such a rich survey of statutes should begin with the words ki tetze lemilhamah, when you set out to war (Deut. 21:1).

In today’s Torah reading, Moses continues his instructions to B’nei Yisrael on how to become a holy nation by focusing on the types of leaders they should “place for yourselves in your gates.” Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers had concentrated on the roles of the Kohanim and Leviim and on the building of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary that traveled with the Israelites in the desert. In Shoftim, Moses clarifies the qualifications and responsibilities of other leadership positions: judges and local authorities, kings, and prophets.

To our sages, these three leadership roles, together with the Priests, help form the human MSHKN — as represented by the four Hebrew letters Mem for Melech, Shin for Shofet, Kaf for Kohen, and Nun for Navi — to invite and magnify the Divine Presence amidst the Jewish nation. When these four are working in harmony with each other and with God’s will, the Jewish people are strong and the Name of God is sanctified