The Haftarah read on Shabbat Shuba – the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur – is among the most famous Haftarot read throughout the year. Taken from the Book of Hoshea, it begins with the prophet Hoshea's timeless cry, "Shuba Yisrael Ad Hashem Elokecha" – "Return, O Israel, unto Hashem your G-d" (Hoshea 14:2). The Midrash (Bereshit Rabba 84:19) traces the origins of this prophecy all the way back to the Book of Bereshit, to the story of the sale of Yosef. After the brothers lifted Yosef from the pit and sold him to merchants, the Torah writes, "Va'yashab Reuben El Ha'bor" – the oldest brother, Reuben, "returned to the pit" (Bereshit 37:29). The Midrash raises the question of where Reuben had gone that he is now described as "returning." The answer, the Midrash explains, is that Reuben had left to resume his prayers and repentance for his sin involving his stepmother, Bilha. After Rachel – Yaakob Abinu's primary wife – passed away, Yaakob moved his bed into the tent of Bilha, Rachel's maidservant whom Yaakob had married. Reuben saw this as an affront to his mother, Leah, and so he moved Yaakob's bed out of Bilha's tent into Leah's tent. This meddling in his father's private affairs was considered a grave affront to his father, for which Reuben repented. The Midrash continues that G-d declared to Reuben: "No person had ever sinned before Me and repented, and you were the first to initiate repentance." In reward, G-d proclaimed, Reuben's descendant – the prophet Hoshea – would be the one to call upon the people to repent. Many writers addressed the question of how the Midrash could make such a claim – that nobody sinned and then repented before Reuben. Numerous sources speak of Adam repenting for his sin in Gan Eden, and of Kayin repenting for murdering his brother. In what way was Reuben the first person in world history to repent? One answer given to this question lies in an important distinction between repentance inspired by external influences, and self-motivated repentance, which is driven by one's own desire for growth and for a close connection with Hashem. An illustration of this distinction is the Gemara's discussion of the contrast between Beneh Yisrael's acceptance of the Torah at Mount Sinai, and the Jews' reaffirmation of this acceptance in the time of the Purim story. In Masechet Shabbat (88a), the Gemara relates that when Beneh Yisrael stood at Sinai, G-d uprooted the mountain and suspended it over their heads, threatening to destroy them if they did not accept the Torah. The Gemara adds that whereas the Torah was initially accepted under coercion, many centuries later – after the Jews were saved from Haman's threat – they accepted the Torah willingly, of their own volition. This has been explained to mean that at Sinai, the people beheld an unprecedented revelation of G-d, such that their free will was suspended. They were not actually "coerced"; rather, they beheld G-d so clearly that they could not even countenance the possibility of refusing the Torah. The revelation was so vivid that there was no other reasonable option. In direct contrast, in Persia, there was no revelation or overt miracles. Events transpired in a manner that appeared entirely random, with G-d's hand concealed behind the veil of the world's natural order. And at that time, the Jews reaffirmed their commitment to Torah through their own initiative, without any external influence or inspiration. Both Adam and Kayin repented after G-d confronted them and reprimanded them for their wrongdoing. Their repentance was initiated by G-d, not by themselves. Reuben was the first one who initiated his process of repentance. No one came to him to criticize him for what he did. He recognized on his own that he had acted improperly, and performed Teshuba – thus becoming the first person to repent through his own motivation, without G-d or somebody else urging him to do so. Of course there is great value in receiving inspiration, in accepting criticism, in exposing oneself to people who will open his eyes to what he needs to improve and how can can grow. However, the most enduring Teshuba is self-motivated Teshuba, a person's own initiative to change. Indeed, soon after G-d's revelation at Sinai, the people worshipped the golden calf. When repentance is driven by external factors, the process might not last once those factors are no longer present. The best chance we have for enduring change is to make the decision without inspiration from anybody or anything else, to understand on our own, without being told, that we need to improve. This is Hoshea's call to us – "Shuba Yisrael." He is asking us to make the decision ourselves, not to wait to be told to correct our behavior, not to wait for a speaker to inspire us, or for some dramatic event to shake us up. If we really want to change, we need to jumpstart the process ourselves, without waiting for someone or something to start it for us.
It is clear that "Malchut" – G-d's Kingship over the world – is the dominant theme of Rosh Hashanah. If we quickly review the text of the Rosh Hashanah prayers, this becomes very evident. We repeat numerous times that Hashem is King over the universe. And Rav Saadia Gaon (882-942) writes that one of the reasons we blow the Shofar is because Rosh Hashanah is the day of G-d's coronation, and so we blow the Shofar just as trumpets are sounded at a king's coronation. But what exactly does it mean to crown Hashem as King? What does this require? Does it suffice to hear the Shofar and shout "Hashem Melech…" during the Rosh Hashanah prayer service? A powerful insight into the deeper meaning of Rosh Hashanah, and what this occasion demands of us, was offered by Rav Yitzchak Hutner (1906-1980). He explained that in order for there to be a king, there must be subjects who have some resemblance to the king. Thus, for example, the lion is king of the jungle, but the eagle is the king over the birds. The lion cannot reign over birds, because it does not fly, and the eagle cannot reign over the land animals, which don't fly. A king can attain the title of monarch only if he has subjects with whom there is some connection, and this requires a degree of resemblance. In order for us to crown Hashem as King, then, we need to resemble Him. How? The answer lies in the most fundamental difference between man and animal – the capacity to choose, to chart our course, to make decisions about who we want to be. Animals cannot choose between right or wrong. They live according to the instincts with which they were created. They react to their surroundings and their innate drives without thinking, impulsively. Only we human beings have the power to exercise restraint, to control and subdue our natural instincts. The verse states in Kohelet (3:19), "U'motar Ha'adam Min Ha'behema Ayin." This means that the only difference between man and beast is "Ayin" – the ability to decline, to say "No" to our impulses. The word "Ayin" may also be read as an acrostic representing the words "Adam Yesh Neshama" – "the human being has a soul." We have a soul, a G-d-like characteristic whereby we can choose between right or wrong, and exert control over our behavior. Hashem is all-powerful, entirely dependent and fully in control of everything. We resemble G-d in our ability to control our behavior. The Gemara famously teaches, "Ha'kol Bi'ydeh Shamayim Hutz Mi'yir'at Shamayim" – everything depends on G-d except for our fear of Heaven. Meaning, Hashem controls everything about our lives except our decisions of how to act, our choices between good and bad. And it is in this area of life – our free will to act properly or improperly – that we in a sense resemble our Creator, as this is the area over which we have control and dominion. And this, Rav Hutner explained, is our obligation on Rosh Hashanah. This is the day when G-d first created man, in His "image," with the ability to choose between right and wrong. Each year, on this day, we crown G-d anew – and for this to happen, we must recommit ourselves to resembling Him. In order to be His subjects, we must be creatures with the power of restraint and control. Our job on Rosh Hashanah is to reinforce our power of self-discipline and restraint. We must realize that when we say, "I couldn't help it," this is not true – we can help it. We can restrain ourselves, we can tell ourselves "No," we can stop bad behaviors and kick bad habits. Of course, this is hard, and change will not happen overnight – but it is not impossible. Our behavior is entirely under our power and authority. To crown Hashem as King on this day, we must become His subjects – by reaffirming our G-d-like quality of self-control. We live in a society which presents us with so many lures, pressures and temptations. Every day, we must struggle against ourselves to act the right way and to avoid wrongdoing. On Rosh Hashanah, we declare that we are fully capable of meeting this challenge, that we are not animals, that we determine our spiritual destiny, that we have the power of choice, that we are not controlled by our instincts – that we control them. By making this declaration, we become G-d's loyal servants who are deserving of His special protection and blessings.
The Torah in Parashat Nisavim foresees the time when Beneh Yisrael would be banished into exile on account of their breach of their covenant with G-d, describing, "Va'yashlichem Be'eretz Aheret" – Hashem's casting the nation into a different land (29:27). Those who look carefully at the Torah scroll will notice that the letter Lamed in the word "Va'yashlichem" is written larger than the other letters of the Torah. Enlarged letters in the Torah function like bolded text, or capitalized letters, in modern-day writing, denoting emphasis. What might the Torah have sought to emphasize with the enlarged Lamed in this word? Perhaps we can answer this question by understanding the unique significance of this letter. Several great Rabbis taught that as the word "Lamed" means "learn," this letter is associated with Torah study. The Ben Ish Hai (Rav Yosef Haim of Baghdad, 1833-1909) explains on this basis the unique shape of the letter Lamed, which is drawn with a vertical line on top, followed by a horizontal line, and then another vertical line dropping down. This shape, the Ben Ish Hai writes, represents the process of Torah tradition. The top vertical line represents the transmission of Torah wisdom as it "descends" from the scholar to his disciple. The horizontal line represents the learning that takes place among peers, how the students – who are generally on the same level, like points on a horizontal line – learn and gain from another. The line descending from that horizonal line symbolizes the students' then transmitting their knowledge and wisdom down to their offspring and students. If, indeed, the letter Lamed represents Torah learning, then we can perhaps explain the significance of the enlarged letter Lamed in the word "Va'yachlichem." As mentioned, this word speaks of the Jews leaving into exile, where they would live amidst, and under the authority of, foreign nations. The Torah is alluding to us that when this happens, when we are driven to exile, the Lamed – Torah learning – must be our central point of focus. Living among foreign cultures, we face two potential challenges: persecution, and assimilation. In some exiles, the primary hardship involved the foreign governments' attempts to ban Jewish learning and practice, to pull us away from our faith and our traditions by force. But in other eras, such as in our current exile here in the United States, the challenge is assimilation. We are, thank G-d, free to practice our religion without any restrictions, but with all the freedoms we enjoy come the lures and pressures of our society. Its beliefs are not our beliefs, its values are not our values, and its lifestyle is not our lifestyle. As a small minority, we face the constant pressure to accept the beliefs, values and lifestyle of our surroundings. This is why the Lamed is enlarged. The most effective and most important weapon we have in our arsenal with which to defend ourselves against the unrelenting cultural pressure to which we are subject in exile is Torah learning. When we learn Torah, we submerge ourselves in our faith, in our values, in our traditions, in our laws and customs. Torah learning of course is and always was a vitally important part of Jewish life, for several reasons, but in exile – and especially in our current reality – it serves the function of anchoring us to our spiritual core, and fortifying us against the hostile spiritual influences of general society. Let us, then, redouble our commitment to Torah learning, so we will survive this exile both physically and spiritually, and be worthy of our final redemption, speedily and in our time, Amen.
The Torah promises in Parashat Ki-Tabo (28:10), "All the nations of the earth will see that the Name of G-d is called upon you, and they will be afraid of you." Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel explains that this refers to the Tefillin Shel Rosh, which we proudly wear upon our heads. The Torah promises that when the enemies of the Jewish People see the Tefillin on our heads, they will be gripped by fear and will no longer try to inflict harm on us. How does this work? How will the sight of the Tefillin instill fear within our enemies? The Kol Aryeh answers this question by developing the symbolic meaning of the Tefillin Shel Rosh. The Tefillin Shel Rosh features a knot in the back, from which two straps extend along the front of a person's body – one to the right and one to the left. The right side is always associated with Hesed – G-d's kindness, whereas the left side represents Din – judgment. For this reason, it is customary for the right Tefillin strap to extend longer than the left strap, reflecting our desire for an abundance of Hesed. One who sees the front of a person sees two separate, seemingly disconnected, straps. Outwardly, Hesed and Din are two distinct phenomena. Some events and experiences appear as Hesed, manifestations of G-d's kindness, whereas others seem like pure Din – harsh judgment. However, when the Tefillin Shel Rosh is viewed from the back, it becomes clear that both straps come from the same source, from the knot on the back of the head. The knot of the Tefillin symbolizes the belief that in truth, Hesed and Din are one and the same, that everything Hashem does is for the best, and for our ultimate benefit, even if sometimes it causes us pain. The two "straps" are really one, because everything Hashem does is for the best. When Moshe was atop Mount Sinai, he asked, "Har'eni Na Et Kebodecha" – "Show me, please, Your glory" (Shemot 33:18). The Sages explained that Moshe wanted to understand the secret of G-d's governance, why the righteous occasionally suffer, whereas the evildoers occasionally enjoy good fortune. G-d responded, "Ve'ra'ita Et Ahorai" – that Moshe would be able to see Him "from the back" (33:23), which the Gemara (Berachot 7) explains to mean that Hashem showed Moshe the knot of His Tefillin. The answer to Moshe's question is the knot of the Tefillin Shel Rosh – the belief that there is no distinction between what we perceive as bad and what we perceive as good. Everything Hashem does is a manifestation of the greatest Hesed, even when we cannot understand how. This is why Halacha requires reciting Shema while wearing Tefillin. The opening verse of Shema declares, "Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Ehad." The Name of "Havaya" is associated with the attribute of Hesed, whereas the Name "Elokim" refers to divine judgment. The pronouncement "Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Ehad" means that both "Hashem" and "Elokenu" are "Hashe Ehad" – a single manifestation of G-d, an expression of kindness. Even "Elokim" is "Havaya"; even what appears to us as bad is the ultimate good. We must make this pronouncement while wearing our Tefillin – which expresses this fundamental tenet of Emuna (faith). With this background, we can return to the verse here in Parashat Ki-Tabo. In the future, the enemy nations will be shown how all the pain and sorrow they caused the Jewish Nation was actually to our benefit, a manifestation of Hashem's kindness. They will see that all their efforts to persecute us and defeat us actually helped us, and in fact led to the final redemption. They will see the "Tefillin Shel Rosh" – that both "straps" are really one, that even the misfortune that Am Yisrael experiences is in fact beneficial for us. And they will thus be overcome by fear and horror, recognizing that all their efforts had the precise opposite effect than they intended, that everything they did to hurt us was in fact helping us. The message for us is that we must reinforce our steadfast faith in Hashem's unlimited kindness, and repeatedly remind ourselves that "Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Ehad" – even the struggles and hardships of life are to our ultimate benefit. Although we cannot possibly understand in the present moment how this could be good, we must trust that in the future everything will become clear, and we will see with our eyes the "knot of the Tefillin," how everything Hashem did was for the best.
The Torah in Parashat Ki-Teseh (24:19) introduces the Misva known as "Shicheha," which applies when a farmer forgets some of his produce behind during the harvest. This forgotten produce, the Torah commands, must be left for the poor. If one later realizes that he left some grain behind, he is not permitted to go back to retrieve it. The Torah writes: "It shall be for the foreigner, the orphan and the widow, so that Hashem your G-d shall bless you in all your hands' actions." By leaving this forgotten produce to the poor, one earns special blessing. Rashi, based on the Sifreh, notes that the Torah promises the farmer reward for the benefit he brought to the poor despite knowing nothing about it. Meaning, even if the farmer never realizes that he forgot sheaves of grain, he is nevertheless rewarded for his unintentional charity, for the assistance that the poor received from his forgotten grain. Rashi thus infers from this verse that if a person mistakenly dropped a coin, and a pauper finds it and uses it for his needs, the one who dropped the coin receives reward. Even though he had no intention to give charity, and even if he never notices the missing coin, he is rewarded for the benefit he unknowingly brought to the needy individual. The Saba of Kelm (Rav Simcha Zissel Ziv, 1824–1898) makes a powerful comment about the Misva of "Shicheha." Just as a person receives reward for the material charity that he gives unintentionally, the Saba writes, so does one receive reward for his unintentional spiritual charity. Sometimes money falls from a person's pocket; other times – and likely far more often – "money" falls from a person's soul. We are entirely unaware of the influence we have on other people. When we conduct ourselves properly, the people around us take notice, and are impacted. When a person's neighbors see him leave on time for Shaharit each morning, they are influenced by this example. When a person maintains his calm and composure in the workplace when problems arise, without raising his voice or panicking, his coworkers take notice, and are influenced. When a businessman conducts his affairs with scrupulous honesty, even at the expense of profitable opportunities, his associates take notice, and are influenced. We never know who is looking at us at any point during the day, who is noticing our behavior, and who is being influenced by the way we act and the way we speak. The rewards for our unintentional spiritual charity, the Saba of Kelm adds, are, undoubtedly, far greater than the rewards for unintentional material charity. If a person drops some money which is then discovered by a pauper, the pauper uses that money to sustain himself for a brief period of time. But our spiritual charity goes much further. The influence that people receive from our example lasts a lifetime, affecting their character, their behavior, and their choices forever. And, this influence triggers a chain reaction, as the people we positively influence have a positive influence on others, who then positively influence others, and so on. We cannot even imagine how far the effects of our behavior go – and thus we cannot even imagine the rewards we receive for these effects. People today are exposed to negative influences like never before. And so any positive influence that we can have on people today is so much more precious than at any other time. Therefore, we must live with this awareness of how every action and every word matters. We have no idea how many "coins" fall from our soul at any given moment, how we are influencing people through everything we say and do. Let us, then, try to always behave the right way – because we never know who's watching, and how they are being influenced by us.