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Of the many ideas discussed in this week’s Torah portion, one particular idea seems to be very fitting for the time of year we find ourselves in. As we know, Rosh Hashannah is just days away and thoughts of repentance and self-examination should be occupying our minds and hearts until the day of judgement comes upon us. Concerning the idea of repentance and returning to God, our parshah tells us:

“It will be that when all these things come upon you — the blessing and the curse that I have presented before you — then you will take it to your heart, among all the nations where Hashem, your God, has dispersed you; and you will return unto Hashem, your God, and listen to his voice…” [Deuteronomy: 30: 1-2]

In response to our repentance, the subsequent verses describe the acts of kindness that God Himself shall bestow upon us in kind: The verses state that God will “bring you to the land that your forefathers possessed”, “make you numerous” etc. However, after these few verses, the Torah then says: “You shall return and listen to the voice of Hashem…” Why are we returning to the idea of repentance!? The verses already started off depicting our process of repentance! What is the significance of mentioning our repentance again?

There are certainly many answers to this question, however I would like to focus on two.

The first answer is quite simple. At first, the Torah illustrates how we will be “among all the nations where Hashem, your God, has dispersed you”. Because of our fallen state of exile we recognize our sins and “take it to heart” and eventually we “return unto Hashem, your God”. By demonstrating our regret for past sins and our renewed commitment to God, God rewards us by taking us out of exile etc. But repentance does not end there! Just because we now find ourselves in more favorable circumstances, it is not an indicator that repentance is over! God does not want us to only scream out to Him when times are tough; even when we are living comfortable lives we must still make an effort to bring ourselves closer to Him. Therefore, even after the verses describe how God will “bring you to the land that your forefathers possessed”, we are nevertheless told that “You shall return and listen to the voice of Hashem…”

The second answer is also relatively simple. Unfortunately, the term “repentance” is somewhat incorrect. The more accurate translation for the Hebrew word “Teshuva” is “return”. “Teshuva” is a process whereby we regret, anguish over, and abandon our sins and ultimately bring ourselves closer, “return”, to God by following his commandments and way of life. But how can one fully return to God!? God is defined as the infinite and the unknown, how can one ever attach themselves completely to something infinite!? The answer is that we can’t, but it is very important to realize this. Someone can reach the greatest heights of righteousness and “return to God” every day of his life, but he must always realize that because there is no end to God, there is no end to the level of “returning to God’ he can perform.

Both of these answers can be highlighted in the first verse we quoted above. The verse states:

“It will be that when all these things come upon you — the blessing and the curse that I have presented before you — then you will take it to your heart… and you will return unto Hashem, your God”

By including both “blessing” and “curse”, the beginning of the verse implies that it is not enough to cry out to God only when “the curse” is upon us, but so too when “the blessing” is upon us as well. The end of the verse says that we will return “unto” God. A more accurate translation, but a rather strange way of putting it, would have been “until God”. Instead of saying that we return “to” God, the verse specifies that we return “until” God in order to convey to us that despite the intense amount of repentance we undergo, we can never fully return “to” God; we can only come as close as being just “until” Him.

May we take these messages to heart in these days leading up to Rosh Hashannah and sincerely return to God to the best of our abilities.

Good Shabbos,

Shannah Tovah,

NZL

I looked over the highway, directly across at the place opposite from where I stood. I still had to walk all the way round to the bridge, and then cross the bridge, to get to that spot. And only then would I be in the right neighbourhood, and my journey could continue. I asked myself at that instant, ‘If there’s one place you could be, where would that be?’ The immediate answer was, ‘Right there! Just across the bridge. I’d skip walking round to the bridge, and then crossing the bridge, and I’d be right at that spot over there.’ But just a second, I said to myself. That’s not really where I want to go. My final destination is the shop over in the neighbourhood, not that spot across the bridge! In fact, if I could really choose to ’skip’ out any part of my journey, I’d skip it all, and be back home with all my shopping in one second’s time! (more…)

The ‘Three Weeks’ is one of the most difficult times in the year for me. Ashkenazi custom is not to listen to music, among other joyous activities, during the days between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av. This is because these three weeks are a period of mourning; the Talmud describes many national tragedies that happened on both of these days, which are designated as fast days, including critical stages of the destruction of the Temple, the Beit HaMikdash. The entire period is one of sadness, and one that has been reincarnated again and again over the generations as a time of Jewish tragedy — may there be no more! I, as a musician, find it very hard to leave my instrument aside and to minimize my music listening during these weeks.

I’m now living in Israel, and I must say that the Land is alive; there is a feeling of aliveness that is tangible in everything, and that pervades everything and every person. This sadness of mourning, too, is definitely tangible to me. While there are not many more things as joyful to me as to walk down Ben Yehuda street in central Yerushalayim, and to see Jewish men and women, boys and girls, rejoicing and celebrating life in Israel with Jewish music, my joy and pride is overshadowed with sadness and discomfort during these three weeks.

Have we forgotten that we need to be sad in this time? Have we forgotten what we need to be sad about, what we need to remember? Is the fact that the Beit HaMikdash is still in ruins, more than 2000 years after its destruction, a fact of life to be accepted as a given? What is a healthy balance between rejoicing in life, especially life as a Jew in Israel, and grieving for the destruction of G-d’s House on earth, and for our continued distancing from Him?

A living contradiction; a junction of opposites. How can you laugh and cry at the same time? How can you pray for the rebuilding of Yerushalayim, while thanking G-d for its continual rebuilding in our days? And… must we resolve these existential difficulties, or is it okay to live with them?