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Parashat Eikev

Parashat Eikev Thursday, August 2, 2007

  In this week’s Torah portion, parashat Eikev, we read about how Hashem loves the convert and provides him with bread and raiment.  (See chap.10, verse 18.)  In the next verse (19), we are commanded to love the convert, since we ourselves were strangers in the land of Egypt.  Similarly, Exodus 23, verse 9 commands, “Never oppress converts.  You know what it’s like to be foreigners, because you were foreigners in Egypt.”   There are many other verses in the Torah stressing the special treatment to be afforded to converts.

    The Hebrew word for convert is ger, which also means stranger.  Sometimes ger is misinterpreted to mean stranger when it is meant to be understood as convert.  The Torah has already commanded us to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.  We are also commanded not to oppress our neighbor.  (Leviticus, 25, verses 14 and 17.)  But the Torah makes a point of singling out the ger, and gives the reason:  because you were strangers in Egypt. 

    Just as we felt out of place in Egypt, a convert feels out of place both in his new environment and in his former one.  He (or she) has possibly endured great suffering by leaving his homeland and people and no doubt is frowned upon by those from whom he has separated himself.  Meanwhile, he must cope with his new situation as a Jew, another trying challenge.  He may feel as if he is in a weak position, insecure and out of place.  It may take many years to adjust to his new situation.  Thus the Torah demands that we be extra sensitive when relating to the Ger.  By emphasizing our former status as strangers in Egypt, the Torah reminds us to identify with those in similar distress. 

    Since Gerim often have old habits to break and are not yet fully versed in Jewish laws and practice, their new co-religionists may not be as supportive as they should be.  Therefore, G-d reminds us that in Egypt we ourselves stooped down to 49 levels of impurity.  That being the case, we have no right to adopt a holier-than-thou attitude.  Hashem took us out of the mud and turned us into a nation of kings.  His is the way we must adopt towards the Ger. 

    According to the kabala, Gerim come from the souls which dispersed from Adam after his sin and became entrapped in husks (klipot).  Gerim come from especially holy souls which had the strength to pull away from the husks.  (See Or HaChaim HaKadosh on Genesis, 49, 9.)  Yitro, for example, was already pulling away from the local practices even before he met Moshe, as evidenced by the nasty behavior of the shepherds towards his daughters. 

    The word ger is mentioned for the first time in Genesis, 15, verse 13, when G-d says to Abram, “Know for certain that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, where they will be enslaved and oppressed for four hundred years.”  The Talmud, in tractate Nedarim 32, asks why Avraham was punished with the enslavement of his descendants for so many years.  Rabi Elazar says it’s because when the King of Sodom said to Abram , “Give the people to me and take the goods for yourself (Genesis, 14:21),” Abraham agreed to transfer his prisoners of war to the King of Sodom.  Apparently, these people wanted to cleave to Avraham.  If he’d held on to them, he might have been able to bring them close to G-d.  

    The Torah is telling us that we must reach out to the Ger and help him cleave to Am Yisrael.  Especially since there is always the danger that he can fall prey to his original klipot if not supported and guided.  We must continue to supply support for the bread (torah, comprising laws, customs, beliefs, and ethical conduct) and raiment (his new public demeanor of modesty and humility) with which Hashem, in his love of the Ger, has supplied him.  This is the deeper meaning of “G-d loves the Ger and provides him with bread and garments.” 

Rabbi Moshe Goldsmith Itamar

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Parashat Vaetchanan

Parashat VaatchananThursday, July 26, 2007

This week’s parasha opens with Moshe Rabeynu’s plea to Hashem to allow him to enter the Promised Land.  Our rabbis teach us that Moshe Rabeynu prayed 515 times in order to nullify Hashem’s decree banning his entry to Eretz Yisrael.  Now, Moshe wasn’t the type to ask for personal requests. We have already seen that he is exceptionally selfless.  He kills the Egyptian without thinking of the consequences to his own safely; he helps the daughters of Yitro who were chased away by the shepherds, again placing himself in possible jeopardy.  And there are countless times that he prays for the welfare of Am Yisrael, and intervenes on their behalf–even to the point of demanding that G-d erase his name from the Torah, if He can’t forgive them for the sin of the golden calf.   So Moshe’s insistent praying for something of a personal nature, albeit entry into the Promised Land seems out of character.

I can think of one other time when Moshe seems to put in a personal request, and this occurs in Exodus 33, verse 18, when Moshe asks G-d to “show him His glory.”  This is after Moshe has descended from Har Sinai with the stone tablets, discovered the nation’s sin of the golden calf, and begun working energetically to patch things up again.  After a five-stage-appeasement process, G-d finally agrees to restore His presence among the Jewish nation.  Moshe Rabeynu understands this to mean that He has returned to the original relationship He had with the nation before the sin of the golden calf, and headily pops the biggest question of all to Hashem;  “Please, show me Your glory.”

Simply, this request can be understood as Moshe’s desire for the closest possible intimacy with Hashem.  In kabalistic teaching, Moshe’s request is explained as an attempt to connect to the spiritual world of Atzilut.  It is brought down in kabalistic literature that if the first set of tablets had not been broken, the Jewish nation would have returned to the spiritual level of Adam before he sinned. This would have allowed Am Yisrael access to the world of Atzilut.  Moshe Rabeynu assumed that since Hashem had accepted his plea for Am Yisrael, it might now be possible to reach the level of Atzilut.  From where Moshe was coming, his quest seemed attainable.  Yet the degree of closeness that Moshe craved was denied.   The sin of the golden calf required further rectification before such closeness could be achieved.  Of course, Moshe had not participated in the sin of the golden calf, but the leader must share the fate of his people.

Why was Moshe Rabeynu seeking to achieve this high spiritual level? Was he, G-d forbid, looking to benefit personally?  If so, how?  It’s easy to understand why one might be drawn to worldly pursuits, to the race for money and power, to the numerous physical pleasures that money and power can make possible. We are all too familiar with selfish individuals whose total lack of scruples is the source of much of the crime and evil in this world.

We are less tuned in, however, to the fact that on the spiritual plane there is an even a greater battle: one can choose to spend his life running after spiritual pleasures, as well, and all for the wrong reasons. The various forms of idol worship and forbidden spiritual experiences are prohibited because they draw their energy from the dark side.  They lead to an unholy spirituality, like the state of unholy ecstasy in which Moshe found the people when he descended from Mt. Sinai.

But even when one tries to draw his strength from the proper spiritual direction, there are tremendous challenges that must be dealt with.  As a person grows spiritually, he has to cope each time with a new level of Divine energy and must be careful not to abuse it for his own personal benefit.  Moshe Rabeynu’s forty days and nights on Mt. Sinai in the most elevated prophetic state possible was not meant for his personal benefit.  As the leader of the Jewish nation Moshe Rabeynu was the vessel for receiving the Torah for all of Am Yisrael.  It wasn’t a personal trip, a private high, but a special mission; he was chosen to be the emissary for all of Israel.  His job was to pass on the Word of G-d to Am Yisrael. He had hoped thereby to restore the nation to that state of spiritual elevation that Adam had enjoyed before his eviction from Gan Eden.

Just as Israel might have attained the ultimate in spirituality by virtue of its leader, so, too, its leader is impacted by the spiritual level of his people. As we discussed, Moshe’s craving to “see Hashem’s glory” related to his wish to restore the people to their earlier spiritual heights.  Similarly, Moshe’s intense desire to enter the land was again in pursuit of spiritual heights for Am Yisrael.  The Medrash says that if Moshe Rabeynu had entered the land and built the Bet Hamikdash it would have been impossible to destroy it. His spiritual greatness coupled with the spirituality of the land would have resulted in a spiritual big bang.  Whatever Moshe built would have been indestructible. Yet there was a problem. Clearly, the nation was not on a par with the spirituality of Moshe, or the land. When the people sinned, G-d’s wrath would have to be visited against the Jewish people rather than against His Temple.  True, Moshe’s spiritual greatness would be enhanced; yet it would come at the price of his people. Once again, Moshe personifies the role of the leader, which is to do what’s best for his people, not what’s best for himself.

This lesson is hinted at when, right after Hashem delivers the painful verdict to Moshe that he can’t enter the land (only allowing him to see it from afar), the Torah mentions the location of the Jewish people:  “And we sat in the valley across from Baal Pior.”  The mention of locations in the Torah is common, but less common is the naming of a location infamous for idol worship as a point of reference.  Perhaps the Torah means to say that Moshe Rabeynu, Israel’s great and selfless protector, who represents the spiritual antithesis of idol worship, is buried across from Baal Pior, where the people were seduced into sin, in order to counteract its detrimental effects.

Rabbi Moshe Goldsmith Itamar

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Parashat Devarim

Parashat Devarim Thursday, July 19, 2007

Since we’re approaching Tisha B’av, this week’s Torah thought is centered on the destruction of the Bet HaMikdash.  In order to merit its rebuilding, we must examine the causes that led to its fall and try to rectify them.

The following story is brought down in the Talmud (tractate Gitin, p.56A) about Martha, the daughter of Bytos, one of the wealthiest women of Jerusalem during the time of the destruction:  Martha sends one of her servants to the market to buy fine flour. When he gets there he finds that all the fine flour has been sold out. He comes back and tells her that the fine flour has been sold out, but that there’s regular white bread. She sends him for the regular white bread. When he gets to the market, however, the regular white bread is also sold out. He returns and tells her that all the white bread has been sold out, but there’s black bread. She sends him for the black bread, but that’s sold out too. He returns and tells her that there’s no more black bread, but there is barley flour. She tells him to go bring her some. However, by the time he reaches the market that too is sold out. She then takes off her shoes and goes outside to see if she can find anything to eat. In the street she steps on animal dung and subsequently dies.  Some say that she died after eating a cast-off fig of Rabbi Tzadok, who fasted 40 years in order to prevent the destruction of Jerusalem. (He would suck the juice from a dried fig to sustain himself and cast the fig away.)

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zachkai brings down a verse from the book of Devarim (which describes the calamities that will, G-d forbid, befall the Jewish people if they defy the word of Hashem) and relates Martha to the “tender and delicate women …who [in better times] would not attempt to set the sole of her foot on the ground because of her fastidiousness and fragility.” (Chapter 28 verse 56)  Sadly, before Martha’s death, she tosses all her gold and silver into the street, declaring that her riches are useless to her.

A spoiled and self-centered Jewish princess, Martha has been accustomed to getting everything she wants, with no care for anyone around her.  The Talmud ironically calls her “Martha, among the wealthy women of Jerusalem,” when she is really so cut off from Jerusalem spiritually. We can assume that her servant suggested the idea of buying whatever bread remained in the market, but was clearly expected to report to her each time.  It must have been terribly difficult for Martha–used to a high standard of living, and having all her wishes answered on demand–having to accept a new reality every time the servant returns with the latest news. When Martha learns that, with all her riches, she cannot even buy barley flour, her entire belief system–that money can buy anything–collapses.  For years insulated from reality, Martha must now leave her incubator or die of starvation. Before she leaves her home she removes her shoes because she’s afraid of soiling them while walking the streets of Jerusalem.

The removal of her shoes has the effect of grounding her for the first time in her life; she finally steps down and makes contact with the real world. Yet walking barefoot, she steps on animal dung.  Could anyone get any lower, she must have felt.  For all her riches she was no better than a soiled and starving beggar!  Perhaps in her last moments she realized how far she had removed herself from Jerusalem and failed to prevent its destruction.  Perhaps she realized that her life had been wasted in self-indulgence and fleeting pleasures.

Clearly the Talmud wants us to learn–from the negative example of a class of Jews that were well-off, yet isolated themselves from the masses, a class of Jews who chose a comfortable life for themselves, yet didn’t want to know about the misfortune of others–how NOT to be.

Rabbi Tzadok, on the other hand, is entirely devoted to Jerusalem and Am Yisrael. For 40 years he starves himself in order to try and prevent the destruction of Jerusalem. Only one thing interests him–to save the nation of Israel from exile. Martha’s meeting with Rabbi Tzadok’s dry fig is too overwhelming for her. The holiness of the fig makes her realize that she has been living a life of dung. The realization that true sustenance comes from the sacrifices of great men like Rabbi Tzadok–not from the empty “riches” she has selfishly hoarded and trusted in all her life–is what kills her.

This is a powerful lesson for everyone. It’s too easy to get our priorities all mixed up. Rabbi Tzaddok’s struggle is against the Marthian philosophy of self centeredness, which he sees as a major reason for the destruction of the Temple–a reason that can only be rectified by reaching out to our fellows in dire straits and trying to put the goals of the Jewish people before some of our personal needs.

Rabbi Moshe Goldsmith Itamar

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Parashat Matot

Parashat MatotThursday, July 12, 2007

This week’s parasha, Matot, opens with the laws pertaining to oaths. Why is it important that one keep an oath?  If one pledges an oath to help someone and in the end goes back on his word, this is obviously wrong since someone has been hurt. On the other hand, it’s difficult to understand why one is held liable for oaths that have no affect on anyone but himself.  In Judaism one is taught to be careful with his mouth–not only what he puts into it, but what comes out of it as well.  The abuse of speech, in the form of Lashon Hara (gossip), foul language, and failure to keep one’s word,–even to ones’s self–is a grave transgression. What is so special about speech that requires such a high standard?

Speech brings us back to the beginning of creation. “And G-d said let there be light”.  Our rabbis teach us in the Ethics of our Fathers:  “With ten sayings G-d created the world.”  The first act of creation was an act of speech. Obviously, G-d could have created the world in a different way. Since he created the world through speech there must be an important lesson to be learned from it. Shlomo Hamelech, in Proverbs (18, verse 21), teaches us that “Death and life are in the hands of the tongue.” With these few words Shlomo summed it all up:  speech is the key to life and death.

According to our sacred traditions, there are five spiritual worlds. The highest is called Adam Hakadmon, Primordial Man–referred to as AK. Since the entire universe was created for the sake of man, the very first act of creation was the formation of Primordial Man. The world of AK is the seed that contains within it the blueprint of the entire universe. It is so elevated that it is almost in complete oneness with the Divine light that flows into it.  It is so lofty that we really cannot comprehend it at all. What we do know is that it is the root of all the other worlds and serves as an interface between the Infinite Creator and the finite universe.  In kabalistic literature we’re taught that the source of  vessels, the receptors which allow us to receive the divine energy, is the mouth of AK (one of  the anthropomorphisms used to describe its spiritual fabric).  Anything that cannot be contained in a vessel has no meaning for the receiver. If a person has only one empty bottle and chances upon a body of delicious spring water, he can only take back with him what the bottle can hold.  The Divine light can mean nothing to us if we don’t have the vessels to contain it.

The mouth is the first vessel of creation; it functions as the vehicle of G-d’s ccommunication with us. If not for this communication, we would be unaware of G-d’s existence.  The breath of life, which is taken in through the mouth, originates from the same spiritual source:  AK.  The sage Onkeles translates Hashem’s breathing of life into man as instilling in him the power of speech and separating him from the beasts. We begin to see why, in Judaism, speech is regarded as sacrosanct.

In Isaiah 33, verse 21 it says, “This nation I created to declare my praise.”  We celebrate the birth of the Jewish nation on Pesach, which means in Hebrew ” the mouth that speaks.”  The oral law, transmitted by speech along with the written law, from G-d to Moshe, from Moshe to Joshua, etc., represents G-d’s special instructions to us, via His personal communication.  This is why the Ten Commandments in Hebrew are called the Ten Dibrot, from the Hebrew word dibur meaning to speak.  Incidentally, Sefer Ba Midbar, which we complete this week, shares the same root, daber. Two major speech events occur in this sefer.  In addition to the speaking of the ten Dibrot, the speech of Life, there is the abuse of speech in the form of the report of the spies, which results in the death of the Dor HaMidbar.

One of the laws regarding prayer is that we must utter the words with our lips. It is not enough to read the words silently; we are required to actually say them.  Unlike the organs for seeing, hearing, and smelling, which take in stimuli from the outside, the mouth has both the ability to take in and to give out. Through speech one has the ability to interact with others.  (In a positive or negative way.) By praying aloud we engage actively and positively with Hashem.

Distinct from the faculties of hearing, seeing, and smelling, the faculty of speech develops as we mature. Children begin to experiment with the different words they hear, sometimes testing our reaction.  As parents and educators, we must exercise care when speaking to and in the presence of our children and students. The sanctity of oaths teaches us how important it is to be mindful of the things we say aloud, even if no one is around to hear us. Speech is G-d’s special gift to man; we must make the most of it and take care not to abuse it.

Rabbi Moshe Goldsmith Itamar

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Parashat Pinchas

src= Thursday, July 05, 2007

View of Givat Pinchas as seen from Itamar

Last week’s Torah portion, Balak, concludes with the zealous act of Pinchas, whose deed resulted in putting an end to the terrible plague which killed twenty-four thousand Jews. Our Rabbis teach us that the master mind behind this plague was Bilam. (See Numbers 24: 14, and Rashi’s commentary.) Bilam is hired to curse the Jewish nation but learns that he cannot do so. G-d’s answer to him is very simple:  the nation of Israel is blessed! This is a law of the universe. Whether one is willing to accept it or not, Israel is the chosen people. This is not just something that Balak, Bilam, the Moabites, and the Midyanites had to learn.  But it is a lesson to all of mankind. G-d chose the nation of Israel and blessed it. Throughout history there have been many others who tried to convince themselves that Israel had lost its position as a Chosen People because of its sins. They pointed to the facts that the Jewish nation had been exiled from their homeland, that they are only a small minority of the world’s population, and that they have suffered constant persecution and abuse.  How, then, can they be the Chosen People?  The idea that Israel is no longer the Chosen People was proven wrong time and time again throughout history as Israel out lived its oppressors.  The idea totally fell apart when the Jewish people returned to their homeland after 2000 years of exile, revived their language, and restored their patrimony to a land flowing with milk and honey.

As we discussed in our last lesson, the goal of Balak and the Moabites was to prevent the Jewish nation from reaching the land of Israel. They tried to achieve this by having Bilam curse the nation, thus changing the Divine plan, which of course is impossible. Bilam’s envy for the Jewish nation was too great for him to go home without some kind of victory. The second best thing in his eyes was to cause suffering and pain to the Jewish nation by slowing down the redemption process.  His plan was to have the Moabite women seduce the men of Israel and draw them into worshiping idolatry. This was partially successful, causing the death of twenty-four thousand Jews, but greater tragedy was averted because of Pinchas’ intervention.  Who was Pinchas? What caused him to do what he did? Why couldn’t Moshe Rabeynu solve the problem?  After the Jewish nation began to sin with Peor (in a particularly debased form of idol worship), G-d commands Moshe Rabeynu to assemble the Judges of Israel in order to punish the sinners accordingly.  Before the judges can do as they’re told, Zimri ben Saluh, head of the tribe of Shimon, comes along, and in front of the entire congregation of Israel, including Moshe Rabeynu, takes a Midyanite woman of royal descent, Cazbi Bat Tzur, into his tent with the obvious intention of lying with her.  Interestingly, there’s no mention in the description of these events that Zimri worshiped idols, which would be the only capital offense requiring the death penalty. How, then did Pinchas take the liberty of executing Zimri?  The Talmud teaches us that Zimri justified his relationship with Cazbi on the grounds that Moshe Rabeynu himself was married to the daughter of a gentile priest of Midyan.  Moshe Rabeynu is thrown off balance, as we can see in the verse which describes his weeping at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. This is atypical behavior, as we can see in Moshe Rabeynu’s reaction to the sin of the Golden Calf, when he immediately stands up to the entire nation of Israel and burns and grinds the calf into dust (Exodus 32, verse 20).  Moshe has been thrown off balance by Zimri’s claim and by the fact that Zimri is not an ordinary person, but head of a tribe. In addition, G-d did not command Moshe to punish Zimri in the same way that He had required Moshe to punish the worshipers of Baal Peor.  Moshe Rabeynu tried to recall the oral teachings that he received from G-d on Mt. Sinai, but, according to the Talmud, Moshe forgot the appropriate punishment for Zimri’s crime.  It was Pinchas who reminded him of the law and was told by Moshe to do what he thought proper. According to Jewish law, a priest who has blood on his hands can no longer serve as a priest of Israel.  Ironically, even though only the offspring of a priest could become a priest, Pinchas earns his priesthood and the covenant of peace by doing something which goes against the priesthood–killing. Why then did G-d make this exception?

According to talmudic teachings, one of Pinchas’ ancestors was Yitro, a former idol worshiper. The tribe of Shimon was outraged that the descendant of a gentile priest should take it on himself to kill a prince of Israel. Hashem’s rewarding Pinchas with the priesthood is a validation of Pinchas’ action. Indeed the role of the priest is to perpetuate the Jewish nation–which was Pinchas’ motivation for killing Zimri and Cazbi. Pinchas saw the terrible danger to the Jewish people of assimilation into the gentile world of idolatry.  This is exactly what Bilam and the others wanted.  Intermarriage would cause the nation of Israel to disappear and there would be no one left in the world to carry on its special mission.

Interestingly, another act of zeal which prevented mass assimilation took place in the “backyard” of the community of Itamar.  Shimon and Levi wiped out the city of Shechem after the rape Jacob’s daughter Dina.  As we may recall, Shechem Ben Chamur wanted the children of Jacob to intermarry and assimilate with them. It even involved relatives of Pinchas and Zimri– Levi, of which Pinchas is a part, and Shimon, whom Zimri is a tribe member.  It can be argued that Zimri was trying to rectify Shimon’s violent act by taking a gentile women and uplifting her. Instead of making war against the Midyanites, he thought that he could uplift them spiritually. He could even point to the precedent of Joshua, who married Rachov, a non-Jewish woman who later converted to Judaism.  Unfortunately, however, it was Casbi who influenced Zimri and endangered the Jewish nation.

Rabbi Moshe Goldsmith Itamar

*Pinchas is buried in Givat Pinchas, today know as Awarta, an Arab village right outside Itamar

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Parashat Balak

Parashat Balak
11 Tamuz 5767 /June 27th 2007

At first glance at the opening of parashat Balak it seems that the fear of the Moabites towards Am Yisrael is a result of the Jewish nation winning the war against the Amorites. (See Numbers, chapter 21, verses 21-35.) This always bothered me because if you read the verses carefully there shouldn’t really be any reason for this fear. The Jewish approach from the beginning towards the Amorites was one of tremendous humility; they showed no aggressiveness whatsoever. All they did was request permission to pass over the Amorite territory, and they even declared that they would not enter their fields or vineyards or drink their water. Only when the Moabites attacked, Am Yisrael was forced to take up arms in self defense.

What other nation of the world behaves this way? Why then were the Moabites terrified? If we look in the book of Deuteronomy, chapter 2, verse 9, we see that Moshe is commanded not to make war on the Moabites. This strengthens our premise that there was no reason for the Moabites to fear a physical attack from the Jewish nation. Interestingly, there is only one other time in the bible that the Hebrew word “Vayagur,” used here for fear, is mentioned in this form. This is in the book of Samuel 1, chapter 18, verse 15, “Vayaar Shaul asher hu maskil meod Vayagur mipanav.” When Saul saw that David was so successful, he was afraid of him. Obviously Saul wasn’t afraid that David would kill him. David had had quite a few opportunities to harm Saul, and never did so. Nonetheless, after David killed Goliyat the Philistine and earned the praise of the Jewish women, King Saul could not hold back his jealous rage. Deep down he knew that he was going to loose his throne to David and there would be no future royalty for his son Yonatan. This is clearly outlined in that same chapter, verse 10, where it says that “It came to pass the next day and an evil spirit of G-d came upon Saul and he prophesized in his house.” Instead of connecting himself with the source of holiness, Saul was drawing upon evil spiritual forces which damaged his prophecy and resulted in a jealous rage. With this in mind let us return to our Torah portion. It must be that the Moabite’s fear originated some kind of jealousy. What could this jealousy possibly stem from? Why be jealous of a nation of former slaves that have not yet settled on a piece of land?

This issue can be illuminated by an important concept that is brought down in Talmudic and Medrashic literature – “Af Al Gav Di-eenhu Lo Chaziu Mazalayhu Chazu.” This is an Aramaic expression meaning that although they did not see, their Mazal (fate) saw. In other words there are times when a person has an inner feeling that can guide, motivate, or disturb him. This feeling is coming from the upper worlds and is connected to the individual’s spiritual world.

A classic example is brought down in the Shla , written by Rabbi Yeshayahu Horowitz (born in Prague 1558 and died in Tzfat in 1628). In parashat Lech Lecha, chapter 14, the Torah tells us about the great war of the four kings against the five kings and the kidnapping of Lot. The Shlah Hakodesh asks , Why was Lot taken captive? Nine nations are busy in battle; how did they find the time to pay attention to Lot! In truth Lot was the real reason that the four kings went to war. Here I have to briefly introduce another important concept in Judaism – “Arba Malchuyot” – the four kingdoms. The goal of the four kingdoms is to turn the world away from G-d. Just as a central point has four basic directions that lead away from it–east, west, north, and south– the aim of the four nations is to nullify the kingdom of G-d, the central point of the cosmos, thus preventing the redemption from taking place. (See Maharal Mi’ Prague in his book Ner Mitzva , Rabbi Yehuda Leva Ben Betzalel, born in 1515 and died in Prague in 1609.) With this in mind we can now understand why it was so important for the four kings to kidnap Lot. The four nations were being led by the evil force of the four kings. Their mission was to prevent the redemption from taking place, the seeds of which were planted in Lot. The Mazal of the kings knew, just as we know now, that king David is a direct descendent of Lot. (See Genesis 19:30-37.) In the same vein, we can now answer the question I began with – what were the Moabites afraid of. The goal of the Jewish nation is to honor G-d by building His throne. “This nation I created for me to declare my praise.” (Isaiah 43:21) Building the throne of G-d is a long process that can come about only after the Jewish nation returns to the Promised Land, restores the house of David, and builds the temple. Then prophecy will return to the land and the entire world will know that there is a G-d! The Moabites were also guided by this same evil force that wants to prevent the house of David and the Mashiach from coming about, thus preventing the throne of G-d from being actualized.

This same evil force is still trying to prevent Israel’s redemption. In the last decade we have been fighting a growing battle to hold on to our precious holy land. There are evil forces trying their best to prevent the Jewish nation from fulfilling its mission. Those of you who are supporting communities like Itamar are literally a major factor in winning the battle against the four kings.

Rabbi Moshe Goldsmith
Itamar