OzTorah

The Baal Shem Tov had a habit of turning negative statements in the Torah around and making them positive.

As an example, take the verse in the sidra, v’avad’tem m’herah, “You will quickly perish (from the Holy Land if you disobey God)” (Deut. 11:17).

According to the Baal Shem Tov, the Hebrew of the verse can suggest a blessing – “You shall lose speed”, i.e. you will slow down and take life more calmly.

This may not be the original meaning of the verse, but it still tells us something important – that constantly being in a hurry and doing things in a hurry does us no service.

If the Baal Shem, living in a much quieter age, thought that speed was not a good thing, his advice is all the more pertinent at our juncture in history.

Too much haste means that we have too little time to think, too little time to see and breathe in the beauties of the universe, too little time to enjoy being alive and to enjoy our family and friends.

Probably the only thing we should be doing in a hurry is finding mitzvot to do and carrying them out without dawdling. As the sages say, “When a mitzvah comes to your hand, don’t let it become stale.”

The Torah is clear. “If you listen intently to My commandments I will give the rain of your land in its season” (Deut. 11:13-14).

Rain, corn, wine and oil, grass for the cattle ­ the catalogue of rewards is endless.

But is that the reason why we decide to obey the commandments? Are we spurred on by the thought of reward, or do we do the right thing for its own sake?

One answer is that the righteous need no reward. They act lishmah, doing the right thing because it is right.

They probably prefer that rewards should not exist so that they never feel tempted to act for an ulterior motive. For them the reward is at best a consequence but not the motive of a mitzvah.

That’s all right for the tzaddikim, but most people are not (yet) on that level. For the ordinary person the thought of a reward is useful. If they will only act when there is talk of a reward, then let the reward be there as an encouragement. Better a mitzvah with a reward than no mitzvah at all.

Nonetheless this is not the highest ethic. We hope the thought of a reward will train people so well to do mitzvot that the time will come when the possibility of a reward will become quite unnecessary.

That’s when we will be able to say with Pir’kei Avot (4:2), s’char mitzvah mitzvah, “the reward of a mitzvah is the mitzvah“.

Q. Why is the word Shaddai (Almighty) written on the back of the mezuzah parchment?

A. There are several possible reasons. The most obvious is that the mezuzah declares that the Almighty is present in that house or building.

Some say the name is short for the Hebrew words, Shomer Dal’tot Yisra’el, “Guardian of the Doors of Israel”.

Others prefer to see in the name the words, She’amar La’olam Dai (“He said to the world, ‘Enough!'”), which may signify the duty to protect oneself against infringing the privacy of others: gates and doors, after all, are both for security and privacy.

Q. I hear there is a minor festival called Tu B’Av. What is it all about?

A. Tu B’Av (the 15th of the month of Av) has a double significance. Josephus called it the Feast of Wood-Bearing as it was customary for people to bring wood for the altar on that day. It is also a day of midsummer matchmaking.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamli’el said, “Israel had no such happy days as 15 Av and Yom Kippur, when the daughters of Jerusalem went out in borrowed white garments so as not to shame anyone who did not possess them. The daughters of Jerusalem would go out and dance in the vineyards.

“What did they say? ‘Young man, lift up your eyes: see what you choose. Set not your eyes upon appearance but upon family’” (Mishnah Ta’anit 4:8).

The girls took the lead, not waiting for boys to propose or for a shadchan to arrange the deal. The boys looked for beauty, the girls thought of lineage. No-one mentioned matchmakers or chaperones: the couples found one another.

The venue was the vineyards because it was the beginning of the grape harvest.

The Siddur is aware of Tu B’Av, since it omits the Tachanun supplications that day, and no funeral eulogies are given. Some kibbutzim tried to develop chagigat hak’ramim, a vineyard festival, with music, dancing and poetry, but the event did not catch on.

So the orthodox and the secular both remember 15 Av, each for their own reason; others are unaware that the date exists. I think we should rediscover Tu B’Av and use it to focus on marriage education.

The Shema accompanies us through life. It is the first Jewish expression of hesitant childhood, and the final affirmation of Judaism at the moment of death.

Our Hebrew knowledge may be infinitesimal, but we can always recognise the ancient words of the Shema.

We may not be too certain about the nuances of its theology, but we know there is something precious beyond rubies in its unambiguous assertion that God is One.

However, BS Jacobson, author of the stimulating work, “Meditations on the Torah” (Binah BaMikra), draws our attention to the logical problems inherent in the famous first sentence, which says, “The Lord is our God, the Lord is One” (Deut. 6:4).

If, he says, God is one and universal, how can we claim Him as merely our God, the God of Israel, and by implication the God of no other people?

Jacobson cites a Midrash (Yalkut Shim’oni 833; cf. Mechilta on Ex. 23:17) that explains that this verse does not represent an exclusive possessive claim by Israel, but an indication of special responsibility: though God is universal, it is incumbent upon us particularly to stand for and profess the unity of His name.

Rashi, basing himself on the Sifrei, another ancient midrashic work, attempts to solve the problem by finding two stages in the verse: “The Lord is our God” speaks of the here and now, and “The Lord is One” speaks of the future.

“The Lord, who is now acknowledged only as our God and not the God of other peoples,” he says, “will in time to come be the One Lord”, and all peoples will know Him and call upon His name (Zeph. 3:9, Zech. 14:9).

Jacobson adds a fascinating additional interpretation proposed by Solomon Ephraim Lencziz, author of the popular commentary, K’li Yakar. Lencziz points out that the verse uses the two main Divine names, HaShem (“The Lord”) and Elokim (“God”).

Traditionally the first stands for the Divine attribute of mercy and the second the attribute of justice. But not until the end of history will the Almighty’s name be one (Zech. 14:9).

Lencziz quotes the Talmudic statement (P’sachim 50a) that this world and the World to Come are different: in this world a person who hears good news says, “Blessed be He who is good and does good” and on bad news, “Blessed be the True Judge”; in the World to Come one will always say, “Blessed be He who is good and does good”.

Rashi explains that in the World to Come there will be no bad news. Lencziz says that in today’s world many are overwhelmed by “bad news”. They see a conflict between the Divine mercy and justice, and turn away from God and religion.

In time to come, however, there will be no “bad news”; there will be no questioning of His judgment or rebellion against Him, and (as the High Holyday prayer, V’ye’etayu, puts it), “All the world will come to serve Him and bless His glorious name”.