Field Dispatch
Parsha Nitzavim, Judaism & Rosh Hashanah – Jewish Teachings: Born Into A Covenant Or Free To Choose. Which Is It?
Field Notes
You didn't choose Avraham. You didn't choose Sinai. You didn't choose the covenant. You didn't even choose to be born Jewish. Yet Parsha Nitzavim tells us we are part of it all anyway.
And then the Torah tells you: Choose Life. So what is it? What are Jewish values? Do we get to choose or not?
Torah Study: As Rosh Hashanah approaches, parsha Nitzavim confronts us with a fascinating tension at the heart of Jewish life: between what we inherit and what we choose, between who we already are and who we might yet become.
Every Rosh Hashanah we tell ourselves that this year will be different.
But will it? We carry the same personality. The same weaknesses. The same habits. The same things we promised ourselves we would change last year.
Can a person really choose to become different? How much of who we are is fixed, and how much can still be changed? Parsha Nitzavim contains a surprising answer.
And it begins with a covenant made thousands of years before we were born.
A man comes downstairs one morning and his wife says, What would you like for breakfast? I've got eggs, toasts, cereal, pancakes, waffles, fruit, whatever you want. He can't believe it. Wow, I'll have two eggs and toast, he says. She asks, How do you want the eggs? He thinks about it. Two fried eggs, he replies, one with the yolk broken, and one with the yolk runny. So she cooks the breakfast perfectly. Toast golden, two fried eggs, one yolk broken, one beautifully runny. She puts the plate in front of him.
He looks at it and sighs. What she says? I knew you'd break the wrong egg, he replies. Human beings have a complicated relationship with choice. We desperately want it, but often regret the choices that we make. At the beginning of this week's Pashan it's Avim. Moshe says, Atemnit Savim Hayom Kulchen. You are standing today, all of you. Moshe explains that every Jew is included in this Brit, in this covenant. Those who are standing there, and more surprisingly, even those who are not there. So we're born into something that we never chose.
I did not choose Avram Avinu. I did not choose Yetsiat Smithraim. I did not choose Hassini. I did not choose the covenant. I did not choose to be born Jewish. And yet, Nitzavim is seemingly about choices. In the same Pasha we're told, I've placed life and death before you, blessing and curse. Choose life so that we and our children will live. So which is it? Am I bound by a Brit established thousands of years before I was born? Or am I free to choose? So let's explore this idea in Bizrat Hashem.
We'll get some answers to take us into this week of Slikot and the lead up to the Yamim Noraim, Rosh Hona and Yom Kippur. So Rashi asked the question Why does the Pasha start with the words Atemnitz Avimha Yom, you're standing today? And he quotes from the Midrash in Tanchuma, because when Khlyshrael heard the ninety eight Klalot, the ninety eight curses that we read in last week's Pasha, they turned green in the face, and they exclaimed, Who can withstand these? And Moshe's beginning to calm them down.
He says you're standing today all of you before Hashem. Many a time have you broke provoked Hashem to anger, and yet he's not made an end to you. You still continue in his presence. There is a problem, however, with Moshe's response. Past survival does not guarantee future survival. A person can come through three or four major disasters and then fall at the fifth. The same could be said to Moshe. Standing here means that Hashem has been merciful in the past. That does not guarantee the future. Maybe Hasfashalom, we won't be disservings of Hashem's Rachamim, his mercy in the future.
The Midrash in Tanchuma answers this. It quotes a Pasat from Malachi. It says, For I Hashem have not changed, and you, the children of Yaakov, have not been destroyed. Moshe is not merely saying, Look, you survived so far. He's telling them something much deeper. The Brit itself guarantees that the Jewish people have an eternal future. The Jewish people are an eternal people. That is why Moshe explains that the covenant is not just with the people standing there today, but with those not standing there, future generations, us.
This is an amazing message as we approach Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Throughout history the Jewish people have fallen, sinned and suffered. But unlike the other great nations of history, we are still here. Jewish history is not the story of a people who never fell. It's the story of an eternal people who somehow keep getting up. And what a message for us. Maybe as we look back on our last year, we're disappointed with some of the things we never did, with some of the mitzvot that we didn't keep properly, with some of our midot character traits that we didn't utilize as best we could.
And yet we have the opportunity because our Temnitzavima Yom, you're standing today, and we're a people that keep getting up. But we do have another problem. Why do we need a covenant at Moab at all? We already have Hasinai, Matantora, our wedding day to Hashem. What is the purpose of this covenant? So Raf Solovechik explains, the covenant at Sinai came from Kudushet Avot, the sanctity of the Avot. Hashem makes a brick with Avraham Avinu, and that gets passed on to Yitzhak, and then Yaakov, that's why they're the Avot, and then the Shavatim.
And of course we become slaves in Egypt, and Hashem rescues us and takes us out of Egypt and takes us to Hassini and gives us the Torah. And that promise, that wedding day at Hassini when we get the Torah, becomes the national covenant, which is a shared sanctity that we inherit by birth. Your mother is Jewish, so you're part of that Brit. And of course, one can choose to convert and become included in the sanctity. And this is an unbreakable eternal covenant. The Gomorrah in Sanhedrin in 44 Ahmed Alif, when Hashem explains to Yeshua the reason for the Jewish peoples to feed at I, Hashem says, Yisrael has sinned.
And the Gomorrah brings down and says, even when the Jewish people have sinned, they're still called Yisrael. The covenant at Moab is Kadusha at Smith. It's individual sanctity. It's a personal covenant between Hashem and each individual Jew. And the most amazing thing, because it's a covenant between Hashem and every individual Jew, Moshe, in Parsha Yitra Hasinai, he doesn't say this covenant is with every Jew here and every Jew not here, because it's a national covenant. If you're part of Khlali Israel, you're part of that covenant.
But this covenant, because it's Kadusha at Smit, it's with every individual. Moshe says it's not just with the Jews here, it's with those not here. Every single one of us, all for the future generations. But why do we need this second individual covenant? Because Kadusha Avot, our national covenant, our wedding to Hashem at Hasini cannot be destroyed. And therefore, we're talking about at an individual level, not at a national level.
But as an individual, I could say, if that's the only covenant, I have Kadusha, because I'm part of Klali Sha'el. And therefore I can sin and I can rebel and I can fail to fulfil my obligations, because I can't destroy that covenant. And therefore, Moshe says, as we're about to enter Eritz Israel, there's an individual covenant by which every Jew is bound. And that individual covenant can be damaged if I don't fulfil my obligations. Hence the need for Teshuva, so I can restore my individual relationship with Hashem.
And so we have the most amazing construct. Because Kadusha Avot, the national covenant at Sinai, says, you belong. You're part of an eternal brick between Hashem and Klali Ishrael. By virtue of the fact that you are a Jew, you belong to something so much bigger than you. And therefore, Kadusha At Smith, the individual covenant of Moab, says, but you matter. Individually, you have a personal, covenantal relationship with Hashem. The choices that you make will affect that relationship. I cannot undo Avraham Yitzhak and Yaqov.
I cannot abolish Hasini. I cannot destroy Khalishael, but I can damage my own relationship with Hashem. And precisely because that relationship can be damaged, there is such a thing as Teshuva. The covenant doesn't make my choices meaningless because I'm part of something so much bigger than me because I didn't get a choice. It makes my choices more meaningful. I belong unconditionally to this national covenant, this holiness, this eternal people of Klali Ishrael. But what I become within that belonging, that depends on me.
But perhaps someone could still object and say, by what right can people who lived almost three and a half thousand years ago buy me?
You see, in Halacha, if a person incurs a debt, the borrower's heirs are obligated to repay the loan, even if they were not alive when the debt was incurred. So you inherit from your parents and there's a loan. You are obliged to repay that loan. And therefore, the above anel says, our personal salvation from Egypt incurred a debt where we became Hashem's servants. And he quotes from the Pasak in Baha, which says we are Hashem's servants. The Abhavanel says being given the Torah and the opportunity for spiritual perfection incurred a second debt, where Hashem is titled to our souls, and a third debt is incurred when we get Erit Ishrael.
And so the debts of Yitsiat Smithrai, Matan Torah, and Erit Ishrael are what binds us, because those debts are inherited, they're passed down with all the gifts. There's another approach. There's a remarkable midrash in Tanchuma. It explains that the Torah says that the covenant is with those standing here today and with those not here today. When speaking about future generations, it does not say standing. Why? Because their souls were present, but of course their guof, their bodies were not. So they couldn't be standing.
So those that were physically there are standing here today. But all the souls were there. It just says not here today because they're not physically standing. And therefore, Judaism's answer is extraordinary. Why are we all bound by this covenant? Because we were there. Our souls, our Nashama was there. And the Malbin offers a couple of other approaches as well. He says that if you look in the Gomorrah and Erevin, a Erev can be made in a courtyard even if one of the homeowners isn't there. Why?
Because if something's overwhelmingly for someone's benefit, they can be included in something. And because the covenant is overwhelmingly for our benefit, we're bound by it, we're included anyway. Numabin says one other thing. He says, the creator of the universe who sustains us all the time, he doesn't need, Hashem doesn't need our consent. He can just obligate us anyway. So we have a number of approaches. We can say it's a debt that we've inherited because of getting the Torah and getting Erit Ishrael.
There's an approach that says every Jew was there in any case, our Nashama, our soul was there. We can say that because it's to our benefit, we're obliged. We can say that we don't need any obligation. Hashem can just obligate us anyway. We don't need to consent. What's interesting about those approaches is none of them are mutually exclusive. It could be all of those. But whatever it is, we're bound by this covenant. But Judaism doesn't begin with the modern assumption that I create all my obligations by choosing them.
And what's interesting is some of the deepest things in life are inherited before they're chosen. For example, we don't choose who our parents are, or in which country we were born, or where we go to school when we're young. But all will have a profound effect on our lives. But inheritance is not destiny. It's what I do with that inheritance is where free choice begins. So here's the question. We asked at the beginning of this, are we born into a covenant or free to choose? And the answer is both.
I do not choose whether I belong to the Jewish story, I choose what role I will play. I do not choose whether the covenant exists, I choose my relationship with Hashem. I cannot choose my inheritance, I can choose my response to it. The covenant gives me an identity I did not choose. But Bachira Hofshis, free will, gives me a life in which I must make choices. And in chapter 5 of Hilchut Teshuva, the Rambam says that free will is given to all. Whether one chooses the path of good or evil, the choice is his.
And he goes on to cite this week's Pasha, the Pasak that says, See, I've placed before you today the life and the good, the death and the evil. The Rambam cites this as evidence that choice is in our hands. The Ramban places free will in Hilchot Teshuva, because without free choice, reward and punishment and tashuva make no sense. If you can't choose whether you choose good or evil, how can you have tashuva?
The Meshahma. He says that when the Torah says, Let us make man in our image and pash up a raishit, the divine image is Bahir Hovshis, his free will. Therefore, mankind is able to choose good or evil. The Mesha Kmah then goes on to explain this means mankind is capable of acting against his natural disposition. Being made but Selem El Okim in the image of Hashem means that we have Bahira Hovshis free will. That's what it is. In other words, human beings are not merely governed by instinct and causality.
We can choose, and we can even go against our natural disposition. And this is key. I may have certain tendencies or predispositions, but I'm not a prisoner of those. I can work on myself and make different choices. One of the most dangerous sentences a person can ever say is that's just who I am. I'm impatient, that's who I am. I'm short-tempered, that's who I am. I'm lazy, that's who I am. I'm not good at davening, that's who I am. I'm not a learner. That's who I am, I'm just not that religious, that's who I am.
The Meshe Hochma says, precisely because you are human, because precisely you are made but Selam elokim, you can change. Even if I'm naturally impatient or angry or lazy or materialistic or not religious enough or not good at governing, that doesn't have to be who you are. The dignity of mankind, being made but Selam elokim, means that we have the ability to develop, learn, grow, and be better. The reason, of course, that the Rambam talks about free will in Hilchot Teshuva is because the true the two of these things are inextricably linked.
It is because we have Bahira Hovsh's free will that we can make choices and therefore make mistakes. It is also because we have Bahira Hovsh's free will that we can choose to change, be different and improve. Teshuva enables us to rectify our mistakes when we make the wrong choices. Teshuva enables us to change direction and be different. It's no wonder therefore that in a pasha that spells out the choices that we have between the life and the good and the death and the evil, that we also have the mitzvah of Teshuvah.
When the Torah says, for this mitzvah that I command you today, it is not hidden from you, and it is not distance. The Ramban says that this mitzvah is Teshuva. And the Kotzka Rebi explains it brilliantly. What it means that it is not hidden from you or distance. He asked once asked his Talmudim, what is the difference between East and West? One student said a million miles. The Kotskarebi says no. So another one says he doesn't think he's gone far enough. He goes, another a million by a million.
The Kotskarebi says no. So the third Talmud says infinity separates east from west. And the Kotskare says no. The Kotskare said, East and West are much closer than you think. The distance between them is only one small turn. Think about it, I'm facing east, and with one small turn I'm facing west. The Kotska Rebbe isn't saying that in one moment I've repaired everything. He's saying that in one moment I can change the direction in which my life is travelling. Transformation takes time, but direction can change instantly.
The mitzvah isn't hidden from you and it's not distant. In a moment I can decide to take my Davani more seriously. In a moment I can decide to be more dedicated to certain mitzvot, or to work on a particular midder. That's the move from east to west. Then we have to keep working in that direction. Rabbi Shneer Zaman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad, has a very similar idea. He once asked his Talmudim, who stands higher on the ladder? The person on the tenth rung or the person on the fifteenth rung?
They all responded the person on the fifteenth rung. Not necessarily, said the Rebbe. If the individual on the fifteenth rung is standing still, and the person on the tenth rung is climbing up, then it becomes most likely the one on the tenth rung is higher. What is really important is not where you're standing, but the direction in which you're headed. Both these stories both echo the famous Gomorrah in Kadushan in 49 Ahmed Bet. If one person says to a woman, Be betrothed to me on the condition that I'm a Sadik, then even if he was a Russia, she is betrothed, as perhaps in the meantime he had thoughts of Teshuva in his mind and he's now a Sadik.
What does that mean? Of course it doesn't mean one can completely change in a split second. It needs a lot of effort. You can't go from being a Russia to a Sadik in one second. But the Gomorrah says she's betrothed because it's possible that in a second he can change direction. He can become a Sadik. Now he has to work. You know, this week approaching Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur, we're saying Slikot every day, it can feel overwhelming because we think we need to become a completely different person.
But when our pasha tells us that Teshuva is not distant, it's not asking for a complete transformation, which may feel a long way away. It's asking in which direction are you facing? In what facets of our lives do we need to change direction? There is of course one final problem. If Teshuva can begin with one turn, why doesn't everyone who has one moment of inspiration remain changed forever? Because changing direction is one act of Bakhira. But staying in that direction requires chic strength. And the Gomorrah in Brachot in 32 Ahmed Bet recognizes the ongoing work that we have to constantly do on ourselves to try and fulfill our potential and be the best versions of ourselves.
You don't decide on Rosh Hashanah, from now on I'm a completely different person. It takes constant effort, not only to become a better person, but to keep the good facets that you've already acquired. The Gomorrah says four things require constant khiza, constant strengthening, lim of Torah, learning Torah, mitzvot, prayer, and pursuing a livelihood. We don't need to work at eating and relaxing and enjoying ourselves. These are activities that become very natural to us. We don't need a lot of effort.
But the Gomorrah tells us that these four things constantly require strengthening. In my limotora, learning Torah, am I being diligent? Am I giving it enough time? Am I taking that time seriously? Because it's so easy to get lax and fall into bad habits, and before we know it, we're not living up to our obligations. And mitzvot. It's so easy to let something slip, become a little lax. Suddenly I'm not so fastidious about washing my hands first thing in the morning, or I overlook a Sadaka contract.
Contribution or forget to visit someone who is unwell, and before I know it, I'm not keeping them its fan the way I should be. And dovening. It's so easy to be in a rush for a couple of days and suddenly every service is too quick. We get into the habit of not focusing. Interestingly, I was at Shaw last week and a friend of mine came in late about three days in a row, and to be honest, I hadn't noticed. But he said to me, gosh, I'm getting into this habit of keep coming late. I've got to stop. Because it's so easy.
The alarm goes off slightly later, and suddenly you're getting to Shaw late, and then the whole of dovening is a mess because you keep trying to catch up or you're skipping parts of it. And pursuing a livelihood, what does that mean? Because we always have to remember from whence everything comes from Hashem. It's so easy to clock off a little bit early from work, but we're stealing from our employer, or raise a price on something, or cut a corner, and we've got to be so careful that we're very, very honest with what we're doing.
Not cutting corners, not charging a little bit extra because we need a bit of extra money that week or whatever it is. Remembering that everything comes from Hashem and we get exactly what we need. The Gomorrah recognized that we have to constantly work at things all the time. The covenant at Sinai gave permanence to the Jewish people, but it's our individual covenant at Moab that needs constant strengthening. The national covenant has permanence built into it. My individual covenantal life does not.
My Torah needs chizak, my governing needs, my midot need hizak, my honesty needs his relationship with Hashem needs chizuk. All of these need strengthening all the time. So we began with Atemnit Savim Hayom. You're standing today. That's the miracle of Khalishrael. We've fallen, we've sinned, we've suffered, and yet thousands of years later, Moshe is talking to us today. Outemnitzavim Hayom. We're standing today. And this is the message to each individual Jew before Rosh Hashanah. You may have fallen this year.
Your davin may not be where you want it to be. Your Torah may not be where you want it to be. There may be relationships, mitzvot or midot you need to improve. But Atemnitz Avim Hayom, you're standing today, and if you're standing, you can still choose where you go next. You did not choose Avram Avinu. You did not choose Yetsiats Mitzraya. You did not choose Hasini. You did not choose the covenant. You did not choose the generations before you. You did not choose this extraordinary moment in Jewish history in which to be born.
But you do choose what you'll do with it. The covenant gives us an identity that we did not choose. Behira Hofshis, free will, gives us a life that only we can choose. And Tushuva means that even if yesterday I chose badly, I'm not imprisoned by yesterday. I can turn today, and then with his okay I can keep climbing tomorrow. And that is why the Torah in this week's pasha can tell us both A Temnitzavim your standing and Uvahata Bahaiim choose life. You're already part of a story that began thousands of years before you.
The only question is what are you going to write next?
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