Shoftim 5774

Solomon the Wise or Solomon the Expedient?

Most of you are probably familiar with the story about the two prostitutes who come before King Solomon, each claiming that the baby is theirs.  He immediately calls for a sword to be brought to him and offers to cut the baby in half.  The first woman gives up the right to the baby rather than see it cut in half and the other woman says, “Cut the child in half.”  Solomon awards the baby to the first mother, deciding that only the real mother would not want to see her child killed.

Tsedek, tsedek tirdof….Justice, justice shall you pursue we are told in this week’s Torah portion, Shoftim.  But, did Solomon really dispense justice?

In a fascinating study of this story, called The Judgment of Women, University of Connecticut Law Professor, Anne Dailey, gives us another perspective.  In her essay, included in the book Out of the Garden: Women Writers on the Bible, she proposes that perhaps the second woman “displays a courageous act of self-determination” by confronting Solomon who, without hearing the women out, without delving in the why and without patiently listening to their story, calls for his sword to be brought and, at the point of the sword, threatens to dispense justice.  Imagine the scene---the women were probably frantic to say something in the very few moments they had to plead their case before Solomon followed through on his threat to cut the child in two.  Solomon chose to render a decision swiftly and expediently, preferring to judge the women on those few frantic words.  Was justice really served?

When a person appears before a ruler, a judge, a teacher, a parent, a clergy person---a person of authority---they usually come with some expectation that the person they have approached has some measure of wisdom simply by having attained their position. (Imagine how the two women must have felt coming before King Solomon!) They have a reason to expect that they will be given a just hearing.  But if the authority figure wants to get home, is late for another appointment, isn’t feeling well, or believes they possess an exceptionally discerning mind, they might well want to dispose of the matter as swiftly as possible.  But is the decision necessarily a just one?

And what about the people who come before the authority figure seeking justice?  If one of them is outspoken, has a reputation as a trouble maker, is cocky, a marginalized member of society (the women were prostitutes) or verbally combative (“Cut the child in two!”) might the ruling person not be inclined to dismiss their side of the story?

God gave us ears so we could listen.  Everyone deserves to be heard.  None of us, including King Solomon, has the right to dispense justice at the point of a sword. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Debby Lewis

Shoftim 5774

I am always moved, every time that I am in Jerusalem, by the sign that stands next to the Supreme Court of the State of Israel. The sign conveys the opening verse from this week’s parasha:

“You shall appoint shoftim,  judges, and shotrim, officials, for your tribes… and they shall govern the people with due justice” (Deut 16:18). 

This verse identifies the biblical imperative of having wise leaders and thoughtful and able enforcers to ensure that the law is established morally and ethically in the land.

This stands in stark contrast to what appears in the middle of the parasha:

“If, after you have entered the land that the Lord your God has assigned to you, and taken possession of it and settled in it, you decide, ‘I will set a king over me, as do all the nations about me,’ you shall set a king over yourself, one chosen by the Lord your God… he shall not keep many horses… and he shall not have many wives… when he is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this Teaching written for him on a scroll by the levitical priests. Let it remain with him and let him read in it all his life…” (Deut 17:14-19)

Rabbinic commentators disagree as to whether there is a positive commandment to have a king, or rather a concession to human frailty (Etz Hayim, pg. 1092). But as you read the passage, it becomes abundantly clear that the Torah is anxious about the power, and possibility of future abuse of power, that this king may have. And so, to ensure that the king does not go astray, the Torah instructs the king to keep the Torah close by, emphasizing adherence to Torah, without ever avoiding the Torah’s commands.

We at Anshe Emet are very lucky to have two incoming leaders to our youth world who epitomize the wisdom and thoughtfulness that the Torah enjoins about the judges, rather than the kings. Rabbi D’ror Chankin-Gould will begin on Sunday, September 7th as your synagogue’s youth director. He is a brilliant and caring person, and we are so excited to have him on the team. We also have Shaqued Gavriel, who just arrived from Israel as our shinshinit, which stands for shnat sherut, meaning year of service. Shaqued will be bringing her passion for Israel and Jewish life to all of our youth programming over the coming year.

I hope that as we read about great leadership in this week’s parasha, that you will join me in welcoming these two stellar leaders to our community.

Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi David Russo

Re'eh 5774

Jewish tradition has a strong inclination towards reciting berachot, towards reciting blessing. There is a blessing for almost everything – waking up in the morning, going to the bathroom, making a request from God, eating food, seeing a rainbow… you name it, there is a probably a blessing for it. We elevate almost every mundane action by acknowledging God’s presence in our world.

What is interesting is noting some of the times that our tradition does NOT compel us to recite a beracha. One of those moments appears in this week’s parasha:

If there is a needy person among you, one of your kinsmen in any of your settlements in the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kinsman. Rather, you must open your hand and lend him sufficient for whatever he needs. (Deuteronomy 15:7-8)

The Torah very clearly commands us about the mitzvah of helping those who are in need, until dei machsoro, until we have helped them receive everything that the person needs. So why do we not recite a beracha before performing an act of chesed, of loving kindness, or tzedaka, charity?

Various rabbis explain this phenomenon from different perspectives. One particular rabbi, author of Itturei Torah, comments, since you can only give tzedakah to someone who is in great need, it is improper to recite a blessing at another person's misfortune.

We at Anshe Emet do a great deal to try and support those who are in trouble in our community. And while it might seem appropriate to bless that moment, the blessing lies in the work itself – in making a difference through the responsibility that we take on and the change that we strive to make.

Over the next month or so, our community will be doing various projects to help those in need in our community. We will deliver food baskets through Maot Chitim, supporting those Jews in our neighborhood who need help as they celebrate Rosh Hashanah and the holidays with their families (for more information, contact Amy Karp at akarp@ansheemet.org). We will have a book drive on Rosh Hashanah for Real Men Read, a program that promotes literacy on the south side of Chicago (for more information, contact Aaron Kamel at akamel@ameritech.net). And on Yom Kippur, we will do our annual collection of food for the Ark (for more information, contact Kim Carter at kcarter@ansheemet.org). Please join us in these critical endeavors – because through this work, you will bring more blessings to our world.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi David Russo

Eikev 5774

I always notice that it is summertime in Chicago when people start wearing flipflops. There are one or two members of our community who try to wear flipflops year-round, but I think that most people begin wearing more open shoewear in the early summer. And as that happens, I think it is a common experience for people’s feet to get a little dried up; and very commonly, people go through new pairs of flip flops every year or so.

You might think that something as mundane or trivial as this would be glossed over in the Torah. But sure enough, in this week’s parasha, Moshe, in the midst of describing the journey through the desert, exclaims: The clothes upon you did not wear out, nor did your feet swell these forty years." (Deuteronomy 8:4) Moshe identifies a miracle – after forty years of walking, wandering, travelling through the desert, not only did their clothing all remain fully intact, but their feet never swelled! Rashi, quoting a midrash, takes this one step further. He explains that the clouds of glory that helped them navigate through the desert was not only an ancient form of GPS – but that the clouds also washed their clothes and constantly made them feel like freshly laundered garments.

Another miracle that he identified is one that any parent could imagine – where did parents get new clothing for their children as they grew up in the desert? After all, there were no outlet malls in the desert! Sure enough, Rashi explains that as the children grew up, their clothes grew with them.

The Torah notices this otherwise mundane piece to help us develop appreciation for all of the little things that we have in our lives. This week’s parasha also tells us to be wary, lest we start telling ourselves, “I am so strong, I made all of this happen myself!” (Deuteronomy 8:17). Our parents have given us a strong upbringing, our friends offer us emotional support, and God gives us guidance through Torah and mitzvoth. Even when we do the smallest actions – laundering our clothing, or getting new flip flops, it is upon us to be thankful to family, friends, and God for allowing us to have all of these marvelous things that help us live our lives.


Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi David Russo

Vaetchanan 5774

In honor of serving Congregation Beth El for 25 years last year, Rabbi Vernon Kurtz assembled a wonderful collection of his sermons. In a moving piece on this week’s parshat Vaetchanan, he identifies that the word ve’ahavta – you shall love, appears only three times in the entire Torah. The first two appear in Leviticus, in the context of loving one’s neighbor, or a stranger, as oneself. The third and final time is in this week’s parasha, made famous by the Shema: ve’ahavta et Adonai elohecha – you shall love the Lord your God. Rabbi Kurtz quotes a Chasidic tale, where the rabbi asks, “why is God mentioned last?” He answers, “because if you do not love people, you cannot love God.”

And yet this has been a difficult time to have an outpouring of love for others. As we have read about war in Israel and other parts of our world, I fear that the doom and destruction themes of Tisha B’Av that we commemorated this past week are a little too real.

Jewish tradition assumes that the central theme of Tisha B’Av revolves around sin’at chinam – baseless hatred. Rav Kook, possibly the most influential thinker in 20th century religious Zionism, famously wrote in his book Orot Hakodesh (vol. III, p. 324): "If we were destroyed, and the world with us, due to baseless hatred, then we shall rebuild ourselves, and the world with us, with baseless love — ahavat chinam.

At a time that is so disturbing for so many of us, we can only hope and pray that our world will start loving God by first considering how we can love and care for the lives of other people.

Rabbi Kurtz includes in his book a wonderful tale that imagines how King Solomon originally determined the location of the Temple:

“King Solomon wanted to find a place build the Temple. A heavenly voice directed him from Mount Zion to a field that was once owned by two brothers. One of the brothers was a bachelor and the other was blessed with a family. After the harvest each brother was concerned about the other. Under the cover of night the brother with a family kept adding to his brother, the bachelor's, pile because he reasoned that the bachelor had no children to support him in his old age. The bachelor added to his brother’s pile because he thought that with so many children his brother needed more grain. The brothers met in the middle of the field and embraced. This field, a manifestation of brotherly love, King Solomon reasoned this was best site for the Temple.”

This story speaks to me in particular this week, as my brother Josh was just called up to serve as a reservist in the Israel Defense Forces. The love for him and concern for his safety that I feel, and the love that I hope all siblings share for one another, will, I pray, reverberate to create a broader sense of peace in our world. In his great wisdom, King Solomon based the location of the kodesh hakodashim, the holiest place on earth, on a field of love. And so too, in the land that we all hold so dear, may we see peace and love in our days.


Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi David Russo