Timeless Torah

This week’s Torah reading of Ki Tavoi begins with the statement, “And it shall be when you come into the Land that Hashem has given to you as an inheritance, and you will possess it.” As noted many times previously, not only does each mitzvah, each phrase, and even each letter of the Torah offer us invaluable lessons for life, so does its order.
The Ba’al Haturim makes note of this idea when he connects this opening verse with the closing words of last week’s Biblical portion of Ki Teitze, which concludes with the mitzvah to wipe out Amalek. These two commandments, the commentary explains, follow one another to teach us that only after obliterating our mortal enemy could we expect to live safely, peacefully, (and most importantly), Jewishly in our Land. For unless we could live securely, we could not create the environment necessary for our people to spiritually flourish.
This Homeland Security Act was enacted so that we would not relive the Jewish experience that beset us during our travels in the Diaspora. Throughout our sojourn as “paying guests” to various host countries we were stateless and powerless. Thus our temporary settlement almost invariably ended in trauma, tragedy, pogrom, Inquisition, expulsion, or Holocaust.
After two thousand years of wondering where to hang our coats and rest our weary bodies, we finally arrived at the door of our own nation. One could assume that those dark days were past, that no longer would we be victims, but rather free and confident citizens, able to forge our own destiny with no fear. Therefore our Divine Constitution strategically informs us, “Wipe out Amalek. Eradicate this evil menace. Then you can get busy with nation-building. Then you can bring your first fruits...”
Ki Teitze and Ki Tavoi are a matching set of keys. One opens the door that drives out the enemy; the other allows us access to the holiness of our rightful heritage. The Torah’s truths are eternal and forever relevant, therefore it was true then; and it is equally true now.
We have all heard the sentiment that, “Life imitates art.” One actor who must believe that particular piece of Hollywood propaganda to be gospel is Arnold Schwarzenneger. I recently read that the action hero who wants take on the problems of California commented on the nature of terrorism. He said, “After making the Terminator movies, I can honestly say I know what it is like to face an enemy who is not human, who lives to kill; who does not even have the most basic, animal-like sense of self-preservation. These are evil beings who must be terminated, before they terminate us.”
“Aahnold,” you just got my vote. Not for governor of California, but for Minister of Defense of Israel.
This probably would be a logical place to end this article, but having now mentioned Mr. Schwarzenneger in two recent Timeless Torah’s I wish to emphasize an earlier point. While it may be ok for Jack and Jill to be proud of their self-made lives, this same attitude spells catastrophe for the Jew.
When the Jewish farmer brought the fruit of his labors to the holy Temple he recited a prayer of thanksgiving. But the language of that prayer, at first glance, appears to be out of place with the ceremony that it is meant to commemorate. Instead of the expected thanks for the rain and the bounty of the fertile earth, the prayer is a review of Jewish history. Why the history lesson?
People are justifiably proud of their accomplishments. After all, one’s efforts and talents are of no minor consequence in one’s life. Therefore, there is a human tendency to view one’s achievements in a somewhat exaggerated fashion.
But in life, nothing takes place in a vacuum. There is always a past to our struggles. And if we do not somehow see ourselves in the light of that past, we really cannot be aware of the true nature of our accomplishment in the present. This disregard of the past is a common illness in twentieth century life.
That is what this prayer addresses. Before the Jewish farmer proclaimed his personal success story, he first had to remember a basic lesson of Jewish history. Life did not begin with him; that his first harvest was preceded by many other firsts.
We should all treasure our accomplishments. We should love and value our children and family. We should be proud of our companies, awards and enterprises. But we should remember our past in assessing our present. The necessity to avoid hubris and be realistic about our achievements is the key to true human success. And for that lesson I thank, not Arnold, but the Jewish farmer who long ago cast his vote, not for the Terminator, but for the CREATOR.