Derasha
The Midrash refers to Devarim as “Mishne Torah,” a repetition of the law. The Ramban and Tosefot both emphasize the salient feature of the book as a review of the laws of other books. There is often a slight tweak, which comes to elaborate on what was taught before, but it is, in the main, a return to some already-visited monuments. For most of us, this kind of review is essential. The Ramban points out that nothing from Vayikra is included in this repetition because Kohanim do not need review. They are diligent enough to hang on the first time. But the rest of us need repetition.
That actual review begins in earnest in another few weeks. In the meantime, the book begins with a discussion of what could be called the grounding, or framework, of the Mitzvot. That is why we are told here that we cannot add, nor subtract, from the Mitzvot, a general rule. And that is why intermarriage is forbidden in this Parasha, because it undermines the basis for the life of Mitzvot.
The framework for Mitzvot is also created by repeating the story at Har Sinai, with a review of the 10 statements (“commandments”). They come to represent the introduction to the Mitzvot. In that story, there is something that I think is apt for the aftermath of Tisha B’Av.
At Har Sinai, the verse refers to what is called “Yom Asher Amadata Lifnei Hashem,” the day on which you stood before Hashem.
Over and over in the story, and throughout Tanach, we hear about “standing” at Har Sinai. In the next verse, we hear, “V’Tikravun V’Ta’amdun Tachat HaHar,” they approached and stood beneath the mountain.
In general, that is the way we refer to it: We call it “Ma’amad Har Sinai,” the standing before Har Sinai.
This gets across two very important points. First, our reaction to this revelation was not to fall on our faces. We stood and we continued to stand. So often, we see either the nation’s or a prophet’s reaction to a revelation is to fall on their faces in fear or awe. There is a short story from 40 years ago, called “Angel,” by Harold Brodkey, which involves the appearance of a heavenly messenger above Harvard Yard. Almost everyone -- except the narrator -- swoons in awe, falling on the ground.
As awesome as Har Sinai was, It was not that kind of experience. That is because it was first and foremost an experience of learning. It was teacher and student, encountering each other in a way that was not overwhelming. We know that the nation does ask Moshe Rabenu to carry on the encounter and to relay the Torah to them. That is because even in learning, one can find that the material is overwhelming. But the initial encounter left us standing.
The Gemora says that for centuries the experience of teaching and learning was done “B’Amida,” while standing. Why do they care to emphasize that? One could simply say that they “learned” together. The term is “standing” because the Gemora wants to tell us that the sign of true learning is that it stands one up on one’s feet -- solid, balanced, strong.
That’s one aspect of the experience of “standing.” The other is that learning like this allows one to stand up even in the face of challenging experiences.
Last Sunday, we had a tour of the pictures and statements that have been assembled by the Holocaust Museum in Illlinois. Our docent had been to EB once upon a time to visit a cousin, Ari Kushner, a”h, who lived here. The stories she told were about Spiritual Resistance and one story especially caught my attention. It was about a young rabbi in Germany in the 30s who had recently taken his father’s place as the rabbi in a small city outside of Frankfort. The son had grown up in Germany and gone to R’ Hildesheimer’s seminary in Berlin to become a rabbi.
The young rabbi’s Shul was destroyed on Kristallnacht and he was incarcerated in Dachau for a time. He was able to escape to America -- German Jews often did better than those to the East -- and he found himself at a synagogue outside of Boston. Shortly after the war, he began to teach at Maimonides, and he pursued graduate studies in Judaic Studies. His name was Rabbi Isaiah Wohlgemuth, a"h, and he taught Bi’ur Tefilla (explanations about Davening) there for decades.
As our docent was telling the story, I realized that she was speaking about a teacher and Talmid Chacham whose Sefer on Tefilla is on my desk. His students assembled the book from their notes from his classes and one of them gifted the Sefer to me.
That kind of production is also called “standing.” Other experiences, no matter how harsh, do not come to define you. That comes from a learning that stands one up on one’s feet -- solid, balanced, strong.
