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Ve'eschananRosh Hashanahתשע״ו5776Parsha

Among The Nations

This essay explores the connection between Parshas Ve’Eschanan and the weeks of Nechama following Tisha B'Av, emphasizing the importance of maintaining Jewish identity amidst external influences.

The seven weeks between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashana are called the “Shiva D’Nechemta”, as each week we read a Haftorah that includes words of Nechama. This period of time begins with Parshas Ve’Eschana regardless of any other considerations that may affect our calendar. Thus, it would seem that there is a connection between this Parsha and the weeks of Nechama in which we find ourselves.

We often discuss the reason that specific Parsha precedes or coincides with a certain Yom Tov, for this helps us understand the essence of the Yom Tov and enables us to properly prepare for it. In this case not only does the Parsha always come in the week after Tisha B’Av but it is the beginning of the period of Nechama itself. It would therefore seem that perhaps there is a lesson to be found within Parshas V'Eschanan that is appropriate in the aftermath of Tisha B'Av, as we try to find Nechama. I think that perhaps a closer look at the end of the Parsha reveals exactly such a message.

Following the Parshios of Shema and VHaya Ki Yiviacha, both of while are so central to our existence as Jews, the Torah speaks about what will happen when we reach Eretz Yisroel. We are told that we must separate ourselves from the native inhabitants of the land:"Lo Sichanem V'Lo Sischaten Bam", we are not to maintain casual relationships with them and certainly not seek to marry our children to theirs. In fact, the Torah paints a very distressing picture of what may happen if we do not heed this warning: "Ki Yasir Es Bincha M'Achorai V'Avdu Elohim Acherim", they will cause our children to stray from the Derech Hashem, and turn to idol warship. Rather, the Torah tells us, we are to destroy them and their edifices, leaving no trace of their existence.

On the face of it, this is a very logical set of instructions: if we mix with the nations of the world, and especially if we intermarry, we run the risk of our children turning away from the Derech HaYashar. There really should be no need for additional explanation, but the Torah then adds a series of Pessukim that begin with the words "Ki Am Kadosh L'Hashem Elokecha", and go on to remind us that we were selected as the "Am Segulah MiKol HaMamim". These Pessukim themselves seem to be somewhat extra—the Torah already explained the pitfalls of befriending the Umos HaOlam—why was it necessary to include this reminder about our status as the Am Kadosh?

The next set of Pessukim, which are separated by a line-break in the Sefer Torah, indicating that they are somewhat distinct from the preceding ones, are also quite interesting. The Passuk begins: “Lo Merubchem MiKol HaAmim Chashak Hashem Bachem ViYivchar Bachem Ki Atem HaMeat Mikol HaAmim.” The Torah tells us that Hashem did not desire and choose us as His nation because of our numbers, for we are the smallest of nations, but rather “Ki MeAhava Hashem Eschem U’Mishamru Es HaShevuah Asher Nishba L’Avosechem” because of His love for us, and because he kept the Shavuah that he swore to our forefathers, Hashem took us out of Mitzrayim.

Why here, of all places, does the Torah choose to tell us why Hashem chose us as the Am HaNivchar and took us from Mitzrayim? As we mentioned, the Parsha of V’Haya Ki Yiviacha, which contains the Mitzvah of V’Higadita L’Bincha and discusses the imperative to remember Yitzias Mitzrayim appears earlier in the Parsha. It would seem that there would have been cause to include the reason for Yitzias Mitzrayim there, why did the Torah choose to write separate Pessukim and place that at this juncture?

In addition, the Passuk seems to say that we may have thought that we were chosen because we are numerous, though the end of the Passuk, and the facts themselves, clearly point to the opposite being true. There are Mamarei Chazal which note that we were indeed smaller than each of the seven nations that inhabited Eretz Yisroel, contributing to the miraculous nature of our victories against them. Why would we assume that Hashem chose us because we are so large in size, especially as this is not even the case? While there are Medrashim that explain these words Al Derech HaDrash, Rashi here makes a point of noting that these words should be seen as literal as well—that is, that the Torah is really telling us that our relative size was not a factor in our selection as the Am Hanivchar. Why would we think it was?

We must also understand how these Pessukim are supposed to affect us, or even those that they were told to. At this point in time, most of those who had been in Mitzrayim we no longer alive—Moshe addressed his words to the next generation, the ones who would enter Eretz Yisroel. Why was is necessary to tell them why their forefathers were chosen to leave Mitzrayim and become the Am HaNivchar—surely this is not only for the sake of historical context—there must have been a reason to share this with them, and for that matter, us.

Perhaps we can answer these question based on the way R’ Zalman Srotzkin learns part of these Pessukim.

As we mentioned, after the Torah tells us that Hashem did not choose us, and take us from Mitzrayim, because of our size, the true reason is revealed: “Ki MeAhava Hashem Eschem U’Mishamru Es HaShevuah Asher Nishba L’Avosechem.” R’ Sorotzkin asks: there seem to be two different reasons here—because Hashem loved us and because he made a promise to the Avos? Which in fact is the case? Did Hashem take us from Mitzrayim, and make us the Am Segulah, because he loved us or because he made a promise to our forefathers?

In truth, either of these could stand independently. If, for whatever reason, there was a strong connection between us and Hakadosh Baruch Hu while we were in Mitzrayim, that could have been enough to take us out. But even if we had acted inappropriately, Hashem had made a promise to Avrhom Avinu: “V’Achrei Chein Yeitzu B’Rechush Gadol”, it would therefore seem that he would have taken us out regardless of any Ahava that we had engendered. Why were both necessary?

R’ Sorotzkin explains that in reality, neither can stand on its own. The Passuk in next week’s Parsha begins: “V’Haya Ekev Tishmiun Es HaMishpatim HaEleh” and only then tells us: “V’Shamar Hashem Elokecha Es HaBris.” In other words, without the Tishmiun, there cannot be Shemiras HaBris. Of course Hashem made a promise to Avraham Avinu, but that debt would only be due, indeed it could only be repaid, if Bnei Yisroel was in a status of “Ekev Tishmiun”.

Thus when the Torah told us the two reaons that Hashem chose us, it was because both were necessary. We created a Ahava between ourselves and Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and he therefore kept his Bris with the Avos and took us from Mitzrayim, and subsequently crowned us as the Am Segulah.

Perhaps based on this understanding, we can answer our original questions.

As we know, during the Shibud Mitzrayim, our Madrega in Ruchnias was quite low. We had spent many years in Galus and had been affected by our surroundings. We know that at least four-fifths of Bnei Yisroel was not interested in leaving Mitzrayim and therefore perished during Makas Choshech. This being the case it is hard to understand how the Ahava that enabled the Shemiras HaBris was created. R’ Sorotzkin explains, however, that this love was created by the three qualities that we know about Bnei Yisroel at that time: “Lo Shinu Es Shemam, Malbusham, Leshonam” they didn’t change their language, mode of dress or names.

If we think about this, these do not seem like major accomplishments, especially in light of the fact that there were those who engaged in Avodah Zarah. Their significance of, however, is that they three elements of a person’s identity. When one wishes to blend in with those around him, he affects his outward appearance and the way that he is identified. The first thing that many immigrants do when they reach a new county involves altering their names and clothing so that they will not be as easily identifiable as foreigners. Similarly, learning the language of their new home is a top priority for those that wish to fully integrate into their new culture.

Throughout Shibud Mitzrayim, by clinging to our mode of dress, our names and our language, we self-identified as foreigners. There may have been those who succumbed to Aveira, but they did so as Jews and not as Mitzriyim. This was the singular accomplishment that created the Ahava between us and Hashem, which in turn allowed the fulfilment of the Shevuah made to our Avos.

It can therefore be understood that now, as Klal Yisroel stood ready to enter Eretz Yisroel, was the most opportune time to explain these realities to Bnei Yisroel. We had been living in the Midbar amongst ourselves for forty years—and many of those who were standing before Moshe at the time had been born in the Midbar, never having been exposed to another society. At this very moment it was imperitivie to remind them that our entire existence as a nation is owed to our ability to maintain our identity even while living in Mitzrayim.

Moshe exhorted us to stay far from the Goyim we would find, and reject any notion of connection or association with them or their culture. Yes, there was a practical reason—it would cause our children to go astray—but more importantly because Hashem chose us as the Am Hanivchar precisely because we could stay isolated from those around us.

We were chosen because our numbers were small—we stood out among a larger nation we remained a cohesive group. In most cases a smaller people would be swallowed up, so to speak, their existence the victim of assimilation. The fact that we existed as a nation despite our status as the Meat Mikol HaAmim, was precisely the reason that Hashem chose us. The Torah doesn’t tell us “Lo Mirubchem” because we may think that was the reason, but to highlight that our resistance to joining the world at large was the reason for “Chashak Hashem Bachem ViYivchar Bachem”.

This is a very important message as we begin the Shiva D’Nechemta.

Another reality of our calendar is that the first night of Pesach and the night of Tisha B’Av always fall out on the same night of the week—the night that sit as kings and read our Haggadah is the same night that we sit on the floor and read Eicha. In fact, one of the Kinnos that is widely said on Tisha B’Av compares Yitzias Mitzrayim with Galus, using the dual refrain “BiTzeisi MiMitzrayim…B’Tzeisi M’Yerushalyim”, further highlighting the commonality between the days.

Obviously it is not coincidental that these two dates on our calendar, which are so vastly different in their mood and observance, are on the same day of the week. Perhaps, however the lesson that we’re supposed to learn is connected to the way we reached the moment of “BiTzeisi MiMitzrayim.”

As we sit on the floor and think about the Curban, we yearn for Geulah, but we feel so far. We are aware of our shortcomings and deficiencies and perhaps feel unworthy. We can look at Yetzias Mitzrayim, however, and see that there is a path. If we retain our identities, and stand out from among those that surround us, we too can be Zoche to the Geulah. We too can ignite the Ahava and Cheshek of Hashem, as the Pessukim in this week’s Parsha explain. We can enable the Shemiras HaBris and the Kiyum of “V’Shavu Banim L’Gevvulam” as we celebrate the moment of “B’Shuvi L’Yerushalayim.”