Timeless Torah

At first glance the text seems plain enough. “These are the words Moses spoke to all Israel ...between...Chatzeros and Di Zahav.” But beneath the surface, a courtroom drama unfolds. Simply interpreted, “Di Zahav” is nothing more than the name of a place, but a name with no location is hardly helpful.
To complicate matters, last week’s Biblical section cataloged every stopover and rest station the Jews ever visited throughout their desert journey, forty two camps in all. Some of the names are familiar (Refidim and Kodesh); others sound more exotic (B’nei Ya’akon, Etzyon Gover). The record is detailed and complete, and yet...no Di Zahav.
Di Zahav literally means enough gold. Our Sages, ever sensitive to the slightest nuance, heard something suggestive in these words, a subtle reference to an episode which involved gold - namely, the Golden Calf. On this basis, the Rabbis offered a remarkable interpretation: Moses spoke audaciously towards Heaven. “The gold-zahav which You showered on Israel, until they said enough-dai, was what caused them to make the calf. It is like the man who gave his son plenty to eat and drink, hung a purse around his neck, and set him down at the door of a house of ill-repute. How could he help but sin?”
In this dramatic re-reading of the Golden Calf episode, Moses has been transformed into counsel for the defense. True, the people trespassed, but it was G-d who gave them the opportunity and the temptation. This motif of being melamed zechus – judging others favorably, means lending a positive construction to events, or at the very least, pleading mitigating circumstances. Our Sages sought to exonerate. Judging by external appearances, they noted, Jews may have been guilty of backsliding and ingratitude. Yet considering the difficulties, dangers, and the temptations we faced, even the making of the Golden Calf, our greatest sin, was in some measure excusable.
Being melamed zechus has a rich history in Judaism. One of its classic expressions was written by Maimonides around 1165. Spain had been invaded by an extremist Muslim sect, the Almohads, who confronted Jews with a choice: convert or die. Maimonides’ own family fled. Those who stayed ‘publicly’ embraced Islam, forerunners of the later Marranos who converted to Christianity.
One of the forced converts asked a Rabbi whether he was permitted to continue practicing as many mitzvos as possible in secret. The rabbi dismissively replied that since he had abandoned Judaism, every religious deed he performed was not a merit but a sin. Appalled by this reply, Maimonides wrote his Epistle of Martyrdom, saying that Jews should go where they could practice their religion openly. However, the mitzvos of those who stayed and converted under fear of death retained their validity. Indeed, in one sense, “The reward is much greater for a person who knows that if he is caught, he and all he has will perish.” His conclusion is that, “It is not right to alienate or scorn those who desecrate Shabbat. It is our duty to befriend and encourage them to fulfill the commandments.”
In a similar vein, the Chassidic master Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev once saw a Jew smoking on Shabbat. He said, “My friend, surely you have forgotten that it is Shabbat.” “No,” said the other, “I know what day it is.” “Perhaps you have forgotten that smoking is forbidden.” “No, I know it is forbidden.” “Surely, you have an excuse.” “No, I knew what I was doing.” At this, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak turned his eyes toward heaven and said, “G-d who is like Your people? I gave this man every chance, but he cannot tell a lie!”
Even when they criticized us, our leaders were our greatest defenders. The phrase Di Zahav in Devarim (the book of Moses’ rebuke of the Jews) is always read on the Shabbat before Tisha b’Av, the most tragic date in the Jewish calendar. Its accompanying haftarah (Isaiah’s famous ‘vision’) is a searing indictment of Jewish waywardness. The connection between Biblical portion, haftarah and Tisha b’Av is the unmistakable occurrence of the word Eichah. In the Torah: How (eichah) can I bear ...your burdens and your disputes alone? In the Haftarah: How (eichah) the faithful city has become a harlot! In Lamentations: How (eichah) deserted lies the city...She who was a queen...has now become a slave.
These are terrifying accusations, awesome in their cumulative weight. Had these been the only pronouncements, the Jewish people might have concluded the mission G-d gave them was impossible. However hard they tried they fell short. How often must our ancestors have been driven to despair?
At such times, what was the role of a Sage? To bring hope, to become an advocate, to declare that “Even the emptiest of Israel is as full of good deeds as a pomegranate is of seeds,” and that, “A Jew who sins remains a Jew.” Throughout the rabbinic literature this note sounds time and again - a note of love and generosity of spirit for this people who, though much afflicted, never abandoned its faith.
This is the midrashic symbolism of Di Zahav on Shabbat Chazon. On this, the most painful Shabbat of the year, Moses injects hope into what otherwise might have been a Shabbat of despair.
Where is that voice today? We know all too well our failings as a people: Jews are deeply divided and assimilated. Those who seek to be critical will find no shortage of material. But Jewish leadership is about love for the Jewish people, who in spite of the angel of death who killed 6 million and despite the pressures of modernity, still identify as Jews, come to the aid of other Jews in need, and possess a glowing ember of spirit which, with the right touch, may yet be fanned into flame.
We have no shortage of critics. What we desperately need are those who will be melamed zechus. Raise your voice in love...and be an authentic Jewish leader.