Yes, I have been working on my on blog for this season. But I yield this platform to my amazing daughter, Rachel Sharona Lewis, who shared this Rosh HaShana Drash with me. I have nothing else to say except that Rachie and my other children, Talie, Yoella and Brian as well as Jeremy, Liz and Mimi, continue to awe me daily. My Bracha for all is that may your children grow and truly be blessings to this world as I know that Rachie is. Shana Tova to all.... And now here is Rachie....
Shana tova!
I am endlessly fascinated by eruv. I have been a checker of the North Charles Community Eruv for the past several years. This recurring task has given me time to think deeply about how this Rabbinic legal loophole - this physical/metaphorical boundary that allows us to bypass the Shabbat prohibition on carrying - is completely interesting and innovative, and slightly delusional. And, it’s completely consequential.
I grew up in a community surrounded by an eruv, where everyone in our Shabbat world lived within 3 square miles. Shabbat was vibrant, predictable and meaningful, and the community, our family's circle of responsibility, was clear and strong. In our community here in Cambridge/Somerville, we reap many of those same benefits. On the other hand, when I have lived in cities with no eruv, I have felt its absence - where responsibility to a set group and collective ritual feel dispersed and inconsistent.
Eruv and all of its related practices was established by our ancient Rabbis as an assertion that, in exile, we can still construct holy space - we can create boundaries in which we bring down God’s presence and a sense of obligation to one another. This aligned with the broader Rabbinic project: even in exile, we get to say, holiness lives here!
Out of the ashes of the Temple, where holiness and ritual were concentrated, Rabban Yochanan Ben Zakkai, the progenitor of Rabbinic Judaism, instituted a variety of decrees that reflect this same ethos. A primary example is the shift from a regime of sacrifices as the direct channel between the people and God to prayer. Rather than relying on the elite class of priests to administer this communication, now connecting with God was democratized, and rather than be confined to the Temple in Jerusalem, could be done anywhere.
In the Talmud, in Mesechet Rosh Hashanah, we see examples of holiday rituals that were once confined to the Temple that become the responsibility of a broader set of Jews after its destruction. While the Temple was standing, when Rosh Hashanah fell on Shabbat, the shofar would only be sounded in Jerusalem, in the Temple. In the burgeoning diaspora, Yochanan Ben Zakkai decreed that any town or city with a Jewish court (a proxy for sufficient communal infrastructure) was obligated to have the shofar blown there as well. He decreed that we all are responsible for bringing the voice of the shofar into our communities, that God’s voice gets to be here, where we are, and not just in Jerusalem.
In moments of challenge and disruption, we have a Rabbinic tradition that tells us to think anew about how to survive, that tells us to adapt and create holy space where there is none yet.
Today’s haftarah offers a different vision in response to the Temple’s destruction. Jeremiah, Chapter 31, describes a longing for what was lost, and the hope that redemption will come, and that that experience of holiness will be restored. God will gather the Jews from the corners of the earth, from exile, and we will once again return to the Temple; od teet’i cramim - we will plant vineyards in our land once again; v’shavu banim l’gvulam, and God reassures our matriarch, Rachel, weeping on our behalf, that her children will return to their borders, to their home.
This vision of redemption reflects the broader prophetic project - motivating the Jewish people to do better in service of restoring the order of the Temple, the order in which holiness was concentrated and we had some control. This sentiment is woven through our liturgy, both today’s and everyday.
As we gather together on Rosh Hashanah, doing the work of teshuva, of repairing what we need to repair as individuals and as a community, against the backdrop of deep disruption in our unstable world, I wonder, what vision of the world is our teshuva in service of?
This year we have seen Nazis emboldened in ways I never could have imagined as a 21st century Jew. And the threats and violence against our black, Muslim and immigrant family, friends and neighbors are escalating at an alarming rate. So much is broken. And so, how do the changes we make address this reality? What are we improving our actions for?
As we hold these two different threads of our tradition - Rabbinic adaptability to what is in an unredeemed world, and Prophetic longing for how things were - I have to believe that the work we are doing today and in this season, on our own and together, is in service of an expansive vision that says we adapt, and that we have the power to bring a sense of holiness and responsibility to and for one another wherever we are, and wherever it is needed.
On the edges of our haftarah, in Jeremiah, Chapter 29, there is a stunning passage. Through Jeremiah, God says to all who have even exiled to Babylon, while you are here…
“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their fruit...multiply here (have children and they should have children) and don't decrease. And, seek peace in the City I have exiled you to and pray to God on its behalf, Ki b’shloma, yehiye lachem shalom, because in its peace, you will have peace.”
In this passage, we see the seeds of the Rabbinic instinct to survive through adapting. Live here. Thrive here. Plant your gardens here. Pray and work for the sake of this world for your fate is tied up with all of the people around you. This is the vision that I believe our teshuva is in service of. In an unredeemed world, we plant our gardens here, rather than long to do so around the edges of the Temple.
The proximity of this passage to the haftarah makes the point that these visions are not mutually exclusive. However, the visions and values we prioritize will drive the choices we make about how we expend spiritual and material resources and about who we feel obligated to.
This past summer, knowing that the eruv would be okay without me, I stopped checking it. Rather, I committed the same Thursday morning timeslot to volunteering as part of Cambridge Minyan’s Sanctuary work. In the Spring, we joined an interfaith coalition of ten communities who are supporting an undocumented mom and her family as they resist their deportation by seeking refuge in a nearby church. As a security measure, there must be citizens in the building at all times, and so myself, and many other people in this room have taken on this responsibility.
It is not lost on me that I shifted from doing the upkeep of one constructed holy space, the North Charles Community Eruv, to another, the four walls of University Lutheran church in which a diverse community is supporting and walking with a family in their resistance. Both acts require the same toolbox - creating our own boundaries in which we bring holiness and a clear sense of obligation for one another into it. The difference lies in who we decide is within our circles, our eruvim, of responsibility.
In Psalm 27, the additive prayer for the month of Elul and this high holiday season, we say, pray and sing this line often, “one thing I ask of you God: that I dwell in God’s house all the day of my life, that I behold God’s pleasantness and frequent/visit(?) God’s temple.”
The psalmist seems to have intended this verse as a parallelism. That dwelling in God’s house and frequenting/visiting (the translation is not totally clear) the Temple are different versions of the same experience. But, as these ideas have been swirling around in my head, I have begun to think that perhaps they are two different experience and two different places. Dwelling in God’s house is described as an eternal experience, while we can exist in the Temple only in physical or metaphorical fleeting moments. And so, if we cannot always have access to the Temple, and to that concentrated holiness, perhaps beit hashem is referencing something else - perhaps it is a reference to all the holy spaces we create, our eruvim, our Sanctuaries, and all the ways we bring holiness, like the sound of the shofar, in. While we may have moments of longing for redemption, that place, this dynamic and expansive beit hashem, is where we are able to dwell, always.
This Rosh Hashanah, as the foundation of our unredeemed world trembles beneath us, when we deeply need holiness and to bring the sound of the shofar beyond our original borders, I offer both the blessing and challenge that or teshuva be in service of expanding our eruvim of responsibility, planting our gardens here, in this broken world - Ki bshloma yihiye lachem shalom, because it it’s peace, and in the peace of all those in our midst, we shall have peace too.
Shana Tova!
Friday, September 29, 2017
Monday, September 11, 2017
Parshat Ki Tavo 5777 and Lessons from the end of Deuteronomy
We will look for a moment at Parshat Ki Tetze (the portion of reading of Torah two weeks ago for Jewish communities of faith and as we come to the end of Deuteronomy in our Torah Reading cycle) and remind ourselves of the most salient lesson it presents. What was the overarching idea of the Parsha and what is the connection to the last reading about Amalek?
We begin by remembering that it is important to note that between 72 and 74 of our 613 Mitzvot are found in last week’s Parsha (depending on how one counts). These mitzvot cover a wide range of proper behaviors we as Jews are commanded to observe, including how we share our resources, how we act humanely within the inhumane framework of war, how we care for the vulnerable and so much else, many of the Mitzvot bein Adam LeChavero – those behaviors that we are commanded to uphold in creating and maintaining a proper society.
Further it is significant that these Mitzvot are for when we are not just within the comforting surroundings of our home but away from our protected base and even when we go out to fight a war. These Mitzvot are about treating all human beings who have been created by God with respect and honor regardless of our situation and regardless of any station in life, even in the most challenging of situations. IT IS THIS LINE that Amalek crossed in their treatment of the stragglers and those who were too weak to fight back. IT IS THIS that we are to remember and we are to BLOT OUT those that engage in such behaviors, including looking long and hard at ourselves.
Immediately after this reading, we begin this (past) week’s Parsha, Ki Tavo. Now, we are talking about how we act in our own land, within our comfort zone, if you will. Further, we are reminded how we are to learn the lessons of how to treat people and how to NOT treat people.
So we begin by speaking of the first fruits, such valued property as the first products we proudly produce as our work product, and about limits and boundaries regarding these prized possessions and how we mark them for God, ceremoniously giving up our possession of them and our claim to any benefit from them, fully acknowledging all of the work put into producing them as well as God’s hand in allowing us and facilitating the process by where we were able to produce them. Further, we are to observe these standards and the behaviors they inform as we present these gifts – literally, the fruits of our labor – to God with joy, as we learn in 26.8 - 11:
ח וַיּוֹצִאֵנוּ יְהוָה, מִמִּצְרַיִם, בְּיָד חֲזָקָה וּבִזְרֹעַ נְטוּיָה, וּבְמֹרָא גָּדֹל--וּבְאֹתוֹת, וּבְמֹפְתִים. 8 And the LORD brought us forth out of Egypt with a mighty hand, and with an outstretched arm, and with great terribleness, and with signs, and with wonders. ט וַיְבִאֵנוּ, אֶל-הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה; וַיִּתֶּן-לָנוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת, אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ. 9 And God hath brought us into this place, and hath given us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. י וְעַתָּה, הִנֵּה הֵבֵאתִי אֶת-רֵאשִׁית פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה, אֲשֶׁר-נָתַתָּה לִּי, יְהוָה; וְהִנַּחְתּוֹ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, וְהִשְׁתַּחֲוִיתָ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ. 10 And now, behold, I have brought the first of the fruit of the land, which Thou, O LORD, hast given me.' And thou shalt set it down before the LORD thy God, and worship before the LORD thy God. יא וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְכָל-הַטּוֹב, אֲשֶׁר נָתַן-לְךָ יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ--וּלְבֵיתֶךָ: אַתָּה, וְהַלֵּוִי, וְהַגֵּר, אֲשֶׁר בְּקִרְבֶּךָ. 11 And thou shalt rejoice in all the good which the LORD thy God hath given unto thee, and unto thy house, thou, and the Levite, and the stranger that is in the midst of thee.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks speaks at length about this joy and how it is mentioned often in Devarim; that while in our earlier Torah readings for the bulk of the year’s cycle, the focus on our dictated practices was about learning the instructions about how we observe these required elements, here we should enjoy them. Think of one who is just learning how to play an instrument and is more focused on scales and the “rules” of how one plays that instrument and then later, once this is internalized one can begin to truly enjoy the products of their acquired skill sets.
Nehama Leibowitz teaches that Abravenel takes a different approach, explaining that the purpose of bringing the first fruits was to humble our selfish passions. Since the first-fruits were to be the most treasured possessions as Hosea and Isaiah teach, God commanded us to subdue our natural instincts and not eat them but rather dedicate these precious possessions to God. In doing so, we learn important lessons about ownership, sharing and accountability to the larger community as well as how to limit our own power.
Further , Maimonedes includes the Ger in this communal experience and reminds all that there is an eternal human background ruling to all of this ceremony, full of consideration for the feelings of the stranger and any person in the assemblage that might otherwise be ignored or excluded. In other words, immediately after we have learned about the actual wrongdoing of Amalek in not showing concern for others, we are instructed to include all and make the “other” part of us in our most celebrated moments, thus investing ourselves in the welfare and dignity of all others.
This is the exact antithesis to what happened with Amalek and further, it is formulated so that we do not ultimately repeat the misdeeds of Amalek and in a sense become Amalek – the ones who do not care about others, do not accommodate the needs of those who require our help and support, and those that are so vulnerable we may not see them if we are so wrapped up in our own hubris or our own joy.
Rabbi Professor Mark Saperstein teaches that this Parsha:
contains one of the most powerful and frightening chapters of the Torah. Fourteen verses (Deuteronomy 28:1–14) outline all the good things that will happen to the people if they obey God and faithfully observe all of the divine commandments. That’s “the good news.” Then come 54 verses (28:15–69) warning of the antithesis: the curses that will befall the people if they do not faithfully observe all the commandments – [the Tochecha]. This is the most terrifying litany portraying various kinds of Jewish suffering in our classical literature. Because of its content, for years no one wanted to have the aliyah in which this passage was read, and it was sometimes given to the town fool. In traditional practice, it is chanted at breakneck speed in a soft voice, loud enough to hear but only if one strains a little.
The punishments explicitly threatened in this chapter include terrible diseases, conquest by merciless foreign enemies, famine to the point where parents will eat the flesh of their own children, and exile and dispersion throughout the world, leading to idolatry and enslavement.
It is indeed difficult to hear and absorb the terrors of these verses and the ramifications of what they implicitly indicate about the nature of the human being, even the one who is Torah observant. And yet that is the point – the moment we forget our frailty and vulnerability as human beings, we lose a sense of our need to care for other vulnerable souls. Just as Amalek saw itself as above the need to care for others, what we see in Amalek is frightening when we consider our enemies. It is downright horrifying when we consider the reality that we find these behaviors and this lack of care in ourselves; needing to be reminded to resist the temptation of yielding to it.
What is going on here? We learn in the Talmud that it is not good to constantly be so strict about our rules and regulations because it will send people away and we will lose our sense of Jewish peoplehood and destiny. So what is the purpose of such, but to remind us continually that we should be the exemplars of kindness, caring and compassion as is God, The One to whom we are accountable. Acknowledging that it is not always easy to act in such a way, maybe acknowledging and addressing reality is in its own way a kindness. Though it may not always feel that is the case (YOU MUST BE KIND AND CARING REGARDLESS OF WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT!), perhaps this is no different than say the discipline of a parent that fiercely loves their child and wants them to behave in the best way possible regardless of what others around them are doing.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks suggests as follows:
there is a profound sense that there is something natural at work ... Not by chance are the children of Israel and the land of Israel exemplars of the relationship between humanity and G-d. The people of Israel will always be small (“It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Lord has set His heart on you and chose you – indeed, you are the smallest of peoples”). The land of Israel will always be vulnerable, occupying as it does a strategic location between three continents, Europe, Africa and Asia, and two traditional bases of empire, the Nile and Tigris-Euphrates valleys. Only by almost superhuman achievements of national unity and moral purpose will Israel survive as a nation in its land. So it was in biblical times. So it is today.
It is easy to be caring and giving and kind when things are going well. But what about when they are not, which is so often the case? Do we get a pass? Do we get to be Amalek? Do we come to understand how Amalek comes to be the one who is so wrapped up in themselves that they no longer care about those who are vulnerable? The answer is no – that no matter what are the circumstances, we are to try to be the best we can be and to strive to truly walk in the way of God as we are taught in Sotah 14a and elsewhere – by doing the very things that God shows us how to do no matter what our circumstances are and regardless of any “payback” we may or may not get as a result. This is precisely why EVERYONE, no matter how poor and indigent, in the traditional Jewish communities gave from and shared what resources they had. This is the reason that historically, the Jewish people are looked to as an example of those who care for and take responsibility for our own.
Clearly, we reading this, generally live a comfortable life today. Nonetheless, we are aware of and pained by the troubles of the world, both those suffered by Jewish populations and those that impact on human populations of any iteration. This is what Amalek did not know how to do and the Tochecha (the very difficult and sobering list of things not to do in this portion of the Torah) reminds us that we must always remember the Jewish promise that binds us as well as the human frailty that is our nature and behave towards others honorably, whether at home as we are in Ki Tavo or on the road as we were in Ki Tetze. We must always be on guard to be the best we can be and show that towards all others!
Shabbat Shalom.
We begin by remembering that it is important to note that between 72 and 74 of our 613 Mitzvot are found in last week’s Parsha (depending on how one counts). These mitzvot cover a wide range of proper behaviors we as Jews are commanded to observe, including how we share our resources, how we act humanely within the inhumane framework of war, how we care for the vulnerable and so much else, many of the Mitzvot bein Adam LeChavero – those behaviors that we are commanded to uphold in creating and maintaining a proper society.
Further it is significant that these Mitzvot are for when we are not just within the comforting surroundings of our home but away from our protected base and even when we go out to fight a war. These Mitzvot are about treating all human beings who have been created by God with respect and honor regardless of our situation and regardless of any station in life, even in the most challenging of situations. IT IS THIS LINE that Amalek crossed in their treatment of the stragglers and those who were too weak to fight back. IT IS THIS that we are to remember and we are to BLOT OUT those that engage in such behaviors, including looking long and hard at ourselves.
Immediately after this reading, we begin this (past) week’s Parsha, Ki Tavo. Now, we are talking about how we act in our own land, within our comfort zone, if you will. Further, we are reminded how we are to learn the lessons of how to treat people and how to NOT treat people.
So we begin by speaking of the first fruits, such valued property as the first products we proudly produce as our work product, and about limits and boundaries regarding these prized possessions and how we mark them for God, ceremoniously giving up our possession of them and our claim to any benefit from them, fully acknowledging all of the work put into producing them as well as God’s hand in allowing us and facilitating the process by where we were able to produce them. Further, we are to observe these standards and the behaviors they inform as we present these gifts – literally, the fruits of our labor – to God with joy, as we learn in 26.8 - 11:
ח וַיּוֹצִאֵנוּ יְהוָה, מִמִּצְרַיִם, בְּיָד חֲזָקָה וּבִזְרֹעַ נְטוּיָה, וּבְמֹרָא גָּדֹל--וּבְאֹתוֹת, וּבְמֹפְתִים. 8 And the LORD brought us forth out of Egypt with a mighty hand, and with an outstretched arm, and with great terribleness, and with signs, and with wonders. ט וַיְבִאֵנוּ, אֶל-הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה; וַיִּתֶּן-לָנוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת, אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ. 9 And God hath brought us into this place, and hath given us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. י וְעַתָּה, הִנֵּה הֵבֵאתִי אֶת-רֵאשִׁית פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה, אֲשֶׁר-נָתַתָּה לִּי, יְהוָה; וְהִנַּחְתּוֹ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, וְהִשְׁתַּחֲוִיתָ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ. 10 And now, behold, I have brought the first of the fruit of the land, which Thou, O LORD, hast given me.' And thou shalt set it down before the LORD thy God, and worship before the LORD thy God. יא וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְכָל-הַטּוֹב, אֲשֶׁר נָתַן-לְךָ יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ--וּלְבֵיתֶךָ: אַתָּה, וְהַלֵּוִי, וְהַגֵּר, אֲשֶׁר בְּקִרְבֶּךָ. 11 And thou shalt rejoice in all the good which the LORD thy God hath given unto thee, and unto thy house, thou, and the Levite, and the stranger that is in the midst of thee.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks speaks at length about this joy and how it is mentioned often in Devarim; that while in our earlier Torah readings for the bulk of the year’s cycle, the focus on our dictated practices was about learning the instructions about how we observe these required elements, here we should enjoy them. Think of one who is just learning how to play an instrument and is more focused on scales and the “rules” of how one plays that instrument and then later, once this is internalized one can begin to truly enjoy the products of their acquired skill sets.
Nehama Leibowitz teaches that Abravenel takes a different approach, explaining that the purpose of bringing the first fruits was to humble our selfish passions. Since the first-fruits were to be the most treasured possessions as Hosea and Isaiah teach, God commanded us to subdue our natural instincts and not eat them but rather dedicate these precious possessions to God. In doing so, we learn important lessons about ownership, sharing and accountability to the larger community as well as how to limit our own power.
Further , Maimonedes includes the Ger in this communal experience and reminds all that there is an eternal human background ruling to all of this ceremony, full of consideration for the feelings of the stranger and any person in the assemblage that might otherwise be ignored or excluded. In other words, immediately after we have learned about the actual wrongdoing of Amalek in not showing concern for others, we are instructed to include all and make the “other” part of us in our most celebrated moments, thus investing ourselves in the welfare and dignity of all others.
This is the exact antithesis to what happened with Amalek and further, it is formulated so that we do not ultimately repeat the misdeeds of Amalek and in a sense become Amalek – the ones who do not care about others, do not accommodate the needs of those who require our help and support, and those that are so vulnerable we may not see them if we are so wrapped up in our own hubris or our own joy.
Rabbi Professor Mark Saperstein teaches that this Parsha:
contains one of the most powerful and frightening chapters of the Torah. Fourteen verses (Deuteronomy 28:1–14) outline all the good things that will happen to the people if they obey God and faithfully observe all of the divine commandments. That’s “the good news.” Then come 54 verses (28:15–69) warning of the antithesis: the curses that will befall the people if they do not faithfully observe all the commandments – [the Tochecha]. This is the most terrifying litany portraying various kinds of Jewish suffering in our classical literature. Because of its content, for years no one wanted to have the aliyah in which this passage was read, and it was sometimes given to the town fool. In traditional practice, it is chanted at breakneck speed in a soft voice, loud enough to hear but only if one strains a little.
The punishments explicitly threatened in this chapter include terrible diseases, conquest by merciless foreign enemies, famine to the point where parents will eat the flesh of their own children, and exile and dispersion throughout the world, leading to idolatry and enslavement.
It is indeed difficult to hear and absorb the terrors of these verses and the ramifications of what they implicitly indicate about the nature of the human being, even the one who is Torah observant. And yet that is the point – the moment we forget our frailty and vulnerability as human beings, we lose a sense of our need to care for other vulnerable souls. Just as Amalek saw itself as above the need to care for others, what we see in Amalek is frightening when we consider our enemies. It is downright horrifying when we consider the reality that we find these behaviors and this lack of care in ourselves; needing to be reminded to resist the temptation of yielding to it.
What is going on here? We learn in the Talmud that it is not good to constantly be so strict about our rules and regulations because it will send people away and we will lose our sense of Jewish peoplehood and destiny. So what is the purpose of such, but to remind us continually that we should be the exemplars of kindness, caring and compassion as is God, The One to whom we are accountable. Acknowledging that it is not always easy to act in such a way, maybe acknowledging and addressing reality is in its own way a kindness. Though it may not always feel that is the case (YOU MUST BE KIND AND CARING REGARDLESS OF WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT!), perhaps this is no different than say the discipline of a parent that fiercely loves their child and wants them to behave in the best way possible regardless of what others around them are doing.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks suggests as follows:
there is a profound sense that there is something natural at work ... Not by chance are the children of Israel and the land of Israel exemplars of the relationship between humanity and G-d. The people of Israel will always be small (“It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Lord has set His heart on you and chose you – indeed, you are the smallest of peoples”). The land of Israel will always be vulnerable, occupying as it does a strategic location between three continents, Europe, Africa and Asia, and two traditional bases of empire, the Nile and Tigris-Euphrates valleys. Only by almost superhuman achievements of national unity and moral purpose will Israel survive as a nation in its land. So it was in biblical times. So it is today.
It is easy to be caring and giving and kind when things are going well. But what about when they are not, which is so often the case? Do we get a pass? Do we get to be Amalek? Do we come to understand how Amalek comes to be the one who is so wrapped up in themselves that they no longer care about those who are vulnerable? The answer is no – that no matter what are the circumstances, we are to try to be the best we can be and to strive to truly walk in the way of God as we are taught in Sotah 14a and elsewhere – by doing the very things that God shows us how to do no matter what our circumstances are and regardless of any “payback” we may or may not get as a result. This is precisely why EVERYONE, no matter how poor and indigent, in the traditional Jewish communities gave from and shared what resources they had. This is the reason that historically, the Jewish people are looked to as an example of those who care for and take responsibility for our own.
Clearly, we reading this, generally live a comfortable life today. Nonetheless, we are aware of and pained by the troubles of the world, both those suffered by Jewish populations and those that impact on human populations of any iteration. This is what Amalek did not know how to do and the Tochecha (the very difficult and sobering list of things not to do in this portion of the Torah) reminds us that we must always remember the Jewish promise that binds us as well as the human frailty that is our nature and behave towards others honorably, whether at home as we are in Ki Tavo or on the road as we were in Ki Tetze. We must always be on guard to be the best we can be and show that towards all others!
Shabbat Shalom.
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