OzTorah

The title of this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, means “when you come (into the Land)”.

What a relief it must have been for the Israelites to have heard these words. In the wilderness for 40 years, and only now did they see an end to their wanderings.

A desert – a midbar – is no picnic, and not all deserts are physical. In a natural desert one yearns for escape, in a national desert for liberation, in a spiritual desert for security, in an intellectual desert for enlightenment, and in a personal desert for peace.

Is there any midbar which is a blessing? Only in Southern California, in the opinion of David Ben Gurion, who said on a Californian visit in 1951, “I envy you your deserts – you can afford to keep them deserts!”

With this possible exception Jewish thinking regards a desert as an enemy to be overcome, a challenge to be met, a task to be carried out. Success comes when one wrestles against a desert and prevails, turning the desert, as the Bible puts it, into a Garden of Eden (Isa. 51:3).

Yet there is still a view in the Midrash that a desert can be a good thing. It says, “A person who does not make himself like an abandoned desert is unable to acquire wisdom and learning” (Num.R. 1:7).

Whatever can it be telling us? That if you want to acquire knowledge, first you have to clear your mind from extraneous thoughts and ideas clogging up your system.

In this sense there is a great deal to be said for using the weeks before Rosh HaShanah to clear our hearts and souls and get them ready for the month ahead.

The weekly portion derives its name from the opening words, v’hayah ki tavo el ha’aretz – “And it shall be when you come into the land” (Deut. 26:1).

A well-known rabbinic view says that when a verse begins vay’hi – “and it was”, it is a bad sign, but when it begins v’hayah – “and it will be”, it is a good sign.

Rabbi Eliyahu of Greiditz, one of the early Chovevei Tziyyon, used to say, “V’hayah means joy; when a Jew comes to Israel it is a moment of joy before the Holy One, blessed be He.”

This thought animated his life to such an extent that whenever he spoke of Eretz Yisrael he asked his attendant to light candles, in order to fulfil the words of the Megillah, “The Jews had light, joy, gladness and honour” (Esther 8:16).

Modern Jews, for whom access to Israel is so much simpler than in the days of the Chovevei Tziyyon, seem to have lost that feeling of spiritual and emotional ecstasy.

For us, Israel is realpolitik. Collapsing coalitions, debates about the peace process, social divides, economic unwisdom – these are the daily reality, and hardly anyone would light a candle to celebrate them. But grim realities and partisan politicking are not the sum total of Israel.

Enter an Israeli yeshivah or university and discover the truth of the proverb, “The air of Israel makes you wise”. Walk the streets, see the kaleidoscope of human types, and thank God for answering our prayer, “Gather our exiles from the four corners of the world”.

Spend Shabbat in the Holy City and celebrate the fulfilment of the words, “Bring back Your Divine Presence to Zion”.

Become acquainted with the deeds of love and compassion that bind Israelis, and echo the question, “Who is like Your people Israel, a unique people upon the earth?”

Discover the range of Israeli exports of products, ideas and techniques and find that Israel is truly “a light unto the nations”.

See all that Israel has done for the Jewish people everywhere and rejoice that “there is hope for our latter end”.

Rabbi Eliyahu’s attendant would be lighting candles constantly!

Q. Why was the Torah not given to Abraham?

A. Abraham is so highly esteemed that you may well have a point.

The Talmud raises a similar question in relation to Ezra. “Had Moses not preceded him,” we are told, “Ezra would have been worthy of receiving the Torah for Israel” (Sanhedrin 21b).

So if Ezra was qualified to receive the Torah, why not Abraham?

A further Talmudic passage suggests an answer.

It states that for the first 2000 years of history – according to rabbinic chronology, from Adam to Abraham – the world was destined to be spiritually desolate (Sanhedrin 97a). Thus though Abraham was a great man, his environment was not ready for the Torah, and it was only due to God’s grace and not human righteousness that the world survived (Maharsha).

Moses’ generation, however, had suffered slavery, been carried out of Egypt “on eagles’ wings” (Exodus 19), and shared the birth pangs of nationhood, and they were ready for the Revelation.

Abraham had to accept that there would be no Torah in his generation, just as David had to accept that there would be no Temple in his lifetime.

Later history has had many a similar experience. Pioneering thinkers have dreamed of great things happening, but they were often ahead of their contemporaries and the dream could not come true until the times were right.

Q. Why do we put salt on the challah?

A. Salt was a popular condiment from early times. In Biblical days it was in widespread use in Eretz Yisra’el as a product of the Dead Sea. It was a preservative. It gave food extra taste, and it was used to absorb the blood in meat.

It was placed on the sacrifices in the Temple, and though the sacrificial service is in limbo, we recall it and help to make the table in a Jewish house into a symbolic altar by sprinkling salt on bread or dipping the bread in salt.

Q. Why does a chassid put that black belt on when he is praying?

A. The “gartel” (a Yiddish word deriving from “girdle”) is intended l’havdil bein kodesh l’chol – “to distinguish between holy and profane”.

Some also associate it with the priest’s girdle in ancient Israel, since we are all part of a “kingdom of priests and a holy people” (Ex. 19:6).