Torah of Recovery: Ki Tetzei 2024/5784

Don Isaac Abarbanel, cited in Carasik, The Commentators' Torah: Deuteronomy, p. 142

You will note that this entire weekly portion is organized along the lines of one commandment leading to the opportunity to observe another, and one transgression leading you to another transgression.

Rabbi Alan Lew, z'l, This is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared, p. 85, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91-92, 92

Oddly enough, Parshat Ki Tetze, which we read during the third week of Elul, also derives a lesson in the kind of mindfulness we are trying to cultivate [in Elul]...The Torah is not really concerned with the specific case of the woman captured in the battle. I think it has a larger principle in mind in all this. It seems to be suggesting a method for dealing with the tyranny of passion and desire in our lives in general. The raging lust of the victorious solder is merely one instance, one example, of that desire for which we humans throw away our lives, the living death we bring upon ourselves...It shows itself in the impulse that might seduce us into a ruinous midlife affair, or that might cause us to sacrifice our families for ambition, or to give up our heart's work for pursuit of material excess, or to give up our integrity for fame and fortune, or God for the pursuit of pleasure...The Torah never permits too much distance between the values it proposes and the way people actually behave, because it recognizes that to do so would break the connection between our lives and Torah, between our lives and the will of God...[Moreover], this business of desire is the basis of creativity, our productivity. Our desire for the apple in the Garden of Eden got us kicked out of Eden, but it also propelled us into history, and if we try to squelch it, or bury it, we might stop being productive. History might grind to a halt. Since we can't and probably shouldn't repress our desires, and since it is so often a calamity when we follow them, what should we do?...First of all, we watch our desires arise. The soldier at the beginning of Parshat Ki Tetze has to live with his desire, to watch it as it evolves without acting on it, for a full month. And the second thing we can learn from him is that once we have our desires firmly in view, we can strip them of their exotic dress...see them for what they really are....So this is something else we can do during the month of Elul. We can devote a bit of time each day to locating our own particular [desires], to identifying whatever desire has distorted our lives, the beautiful delusion for which we've thrown everything away, or for which we stand ready to do so, in any case. And when we've located it, all we have to do is look at it. We don't have to kill it, and we certainly don't have to act on it, either. We can just let it arise in the fullness of its being, unromantically stripped down to the naked impulse that it is, without hair, nails, or dress, just the bare impulse itself. We can watch this impulse as it arises for the entire month of Elul, and if after a month it still seems to be something that we want, something that continues to arouse strong feeling in us, then we've learned something useful about ourselves. But if this desire stripped of its romantic trappings simply fades away, then we've learned something even more useful. We've learned there is more to heaven and earth than those things on the surface of the world that provoke desire in our hearts. We've learned that if we always act on our desires, on those unmitigated impulses that constantly rise up in our hearts and our minds, then we are doomed to a living death...Better to just watch our impulses arise and wait for truth, wait for something deeper. Better to be strong and brave of heart than to surrender our lives to the empty stuff of desire.

Jeffrey Tigay, The JPS Torah Commentary, p. 194

Because they died in the war (Ibn Ezra) or because she will never see them again (Rambam). In either case, the law recognizes her grief and requires respect for it: "It is not decent for you to take pleasure in her while she is weeping" (Bekhor Shor; Hazzekuni (translation not available))

Richard Eliot Friedman, Commentary on the Torah, p. 629

What pervades the elements of the law is the extraordinary sensitivity to the humanity of a captive woman. Common to one of the most common practices of war, the Israelite soldier is not permitted to rape her. He may take her as a wife. But even then he must give her time to mourn the loss of her family. And if he takes her as a wife and then rejects her, he must let her go completely free. The text uses the same text as the law of divorce (Deut 24:1). And the text recognizes that he has degraded her, so he cannot treat her like a slave to be sold, he cannot receive money for her from anyone else.

Rambam on Deuteronomy, 21:12

V’ASETHAH’ HER NAILS. ...And the reason for this section [i.e. of all these regulations] is that she is converted against her will, and no one asks her whether she is willing to abandon her religion and become Jewish as is [customarily] done with proselytes. Instead, the [future] husband tells her that she must observe the law of Israel against her will and abandon her gods. This is the reason for the verse, and she shall bewail her father and her mother a full month, because she abandons her people and her gods. ... In general, then, she is mourning because she is leaving her religion and joining another people. ... In my opinion this respite is not primarily intended to show compassion for her, but to eliminate the names of idols from her mouth and her heart. The wandering away and separation from her father and her mother and her people will further “quench the coal,” for it is improper to cohabit with a woman who is coerced and in mourning. ... this captive woman who cries out in her heart to her gods to save her and bring her back unto her people and unto her gods. Thus when they inform her that we will force her to give up her people and her native land, and convert to Judaism, we must tell her, “Be comforted for thy father and thy mother, and the land of thy nativity whom ye shall not see any more, forever, (see Exodus 14:13) but, instead, be your master’s wife, in accordance with the law of Moses and Jewish custom.” Then we are to give her a time for weeping and mourning as is the way of mourners in order to assuage her sorrow and her longing, for in all sorrow there is profit and consolation afterwards...

Ibn Ezra on Deuteronomy 21:20:2

(2) AND A DRUNKARD. Sove refers to one who drinks a lot. It refers to a drunkard. This individual is essentially a heretic.80The term used by I.E. is apikores. He desires life in this world only for eating and drinking.

Rambam on Deuteronomy 21:18

(1) A STUBBORN AND REBELLIOUS SON. ... Now, he is liable to two punishments: the first, because he dishonors his father and his mother89Further, 27:16. and rebels against them, and the second, because he is a glutton, and a drunkard,90Verse 20. transgressing that which we have been commanded, Ye shall be holy,91Leviticus 19:2. and it is further stated, and Him shall ye serve, and unto Him shall ye cleave92Above, 13:5. — as I have explained,93Ibid., 6:12. we are commanded to know G-d in all our ways, and a glutton, and a drunkard90Verse 20. does not know the way of G-d.

Rabbi Benay Lappe, Rosh Yeshiva, Svara, Hot off the Schtender, August 28, 2020

(https://svara.org/hot-off-the-shtender-i-saw-him-and-i-stood-on-his-grave-expanding-our-traditions-justice-map/)

...As we move our way through the month of Elul, and continue toward Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, during this season of reflection, spiritual introspection, and stocktaking, let us look at our own stories—both personal and societal. What stories have we been telling ourselves which are no longer serving us? What stories are actually causing us harm? What old stories am I still telling myself—about myself, about my father, about my mother, about my child, about straight folk, about queer folk, about White folk, about Black folk, about those whom I haven’t even considered to even be in my story—that may be holding all of us in a place of suffering? What new story do I want to be a part of? Whose story do I want to be a part of? And what do I need to do to make that happen? Teshuva is not about rewriting your history. It’s about acknowledging some of the most painful parts of our relationships, honoring and remembering the pain and the violence, and then saying “yes, this happened and it caused death,” and expanding the story so that it has the space to hold not only our painful past, but a more liberatory future, for all of us. May we all be empowered to reinterpret our tradition’s stories through the wide-angle lens of our pain, our loss, our insights, and our svara. Because traditions do teshuva, too. Traditions learn. We are not only its students, but its teachers. And, like Rabbi Yonatan, we can find our place in a new, more liberatory story.

George Robinson, Essential Torah, p. 521-522

His real crime, the rabbis say in the Talmud, is what he might do. He is, they write, “sentenced because of his future.” A son who doesn’t heed his parents, is a drunken slob, will probably come to no good end. The rabbis, in fact, say that he will “become an armed robber.” But there is no place else in the Torah—or in subsequent Jewish texts—in which a person is condemned to death or other punishment because of what he might do in the future. (And clearly it is given only to Adonai to know what is in the future anyway!) What do the rabbis finally say of the wayward son? “The case of the rebellious son never happened and will never happen.” In other words, they acknowledge that it is not given to man to foresee the future, only to the Creator, and that one cannot make human law on the basis of maybes.

Devarim Rabbah 3:5, translated by Nechama Leibowitz, in Studies in Deuteronomy, p. 214

It is related of R. Pinhas b. Yair that when he was living in a city of the south some men came there to seek a livelihood. They had with them two measures of barley which they deposited with him, and they forgot about it and went away. R. Pinhas b. Yair sowed the barley year by year and harvested it and stored it. After the lapse of seven years these men returned to that place to claim back their grain. As soon as R. Pinhas b. Yair recognized them, he said to them: Come take these your granaries (full of grain).

Jeffrey Tigay, The JPS Torah Commentary p. 199:

The law means, therefore, that one must house the stray animal as if it were one's own.

Chullin 142a

With regard to the sending away of the mother bird from the nest, it is written: “That it may be well with you, and that you may prolong your days” (Deuteronomy 22:7). Despite this, it occurred that there was one whose father said to him: Climb to the top of the building and bring me fledglings; and he climbed to the top of the building and sent away the mother bird and took the offspring, thereby simultaneously fulfilling the mitzva to send away the mother bird from the nest and the mitzva to honor one’s parents, but as he returned he fell and died. Where is the length of days of this one? And where is the goodness of the days of this one? ...Those on the path to perform a mitzva are not susceptible to harm, neither when they are on their way to perform the mitzva nor when they are returning from performing the mitzva? The Gemara answers: In that case, it was a rickety ladder on which the son ascended and descended, and a place where danger is established is different, and even those on the path to perform a mitzva are susceptible to harm.

Rambam on Deuteronomy 22:6

[these laws were given to us] so that we might develop a fine soul and be wise men perceptive to the truth. By quoting the verse, If thou art wise, thou art wise for thyself154Proverbs 9:12. the Rabbis [in the above Midrash] mentioned the principle that the commandments pertaining to rites such as slaughter by [cutting of] the neck are to teach us traits of good character. The Divinely ordained commandments which define the species [of animals and birds which are permissible to us] are to refine our souls, just as the Torah has said, and ye shall not make your souls detestable by beast, or by fowl, or by any thing wherewith the ground teemeth, which I have set apart for you to hold unclean.159Ibid., 20:25. If so, all the commandments are solely to our advantage.

Rabbi Chaim Meyer Tureff, Recovery in the Torah, p. 101

In recovery, addicts constantly must build guardrails around all aspects of their life. These guardraise ensure that there are steps that are taken before the addict can relapse.

Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson, Everyday Torah, p. 317-318

Safety is a religious obligation and negligence is not merely a crime, it's a sin. As Rambam reads this law, the Torah orders us to assure the well-being and health of those around us. Beyond merely telling us not to harm directly, it makes us responsible for ensuring that people can't easily be harmed by the property under our control... [A Jew] understands the safety of other people as a divine obligation. ...Far from being just a "faith" or a "religion," Judaism offers a way of living life that brings a sacred perspective to bear on all activities. How we provide for each other is indeed a Jewish matter. That we might allow a potential danger to threaten another person is a betrayal of Judaism's most fundamental teaching: that we are, each of us, made in God's image and that all people are deserving of God's love as well as ours.

Ruth Rabbah 2:2 (with appreciation to Dr. Avivah Zornberg)

from here they said: Ruth the Moavite died only after she saw her descendant Solomon judging the case of the prostitutes;74I Kings 3:16–28. that is what is written: “He placed a throne for the king's mother” (I Kings 2:19) – this is Bathsheba; “and she sat on his right hand” (I Kings 2:19) – this is Ruth the Moavite.

Richard Elliott Friedman, Commentary on the Torah, p. 2790

23:8. not abhor an Egyptian. Even more remarkable is this command not to disdain an Egyptian—despite everything that happened in Egypt. We have seen repeated laws requiring Israelites to give aliens the same protections as citizens. And apparently this is the ultimate expression of that principle (and possibly the reason for it): Israelites themselves were aliens in Egypt, and they were abhorred (Gen 46:34; the word translated “abomination” there is cognate to the word “abhor” here) and mistreated, and so they must now never abhor an Egyptian or mistreat any alien. It is the prime demonstration of the principle in Judaism: “What is hateful to you, don’t do to your neighbor.”

Rabbi Mark Borowitz, Finding Recovery and Yourself in Torah, p. 336

The Egyptian is even harder to understand and forgive. They enslaved us for four hundred years. But we shall not hate the Egyptians because we were a ger (stranger) in their land. Even though we became slaves in Egypt, we have to remember the good they did for and to us. Torah tells us to see the whole picture. They gave us a place to live when we needed it. They also allowed us to be fruitful and multiply. People who are our enemies now, in many cases, started out as friends/helpers. We have to remember this. We have to, according to Torah, find compassion in our hearts and souls and extend this compassion to our enemies.

Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Deuteronomy: Renewal of the Sinai Covenant, p. 171

Freedom involves the abandonment of hate, because hate is the abdication of freedom. It is the projection of our conflicts onto an external force whom we can then blame, but only at the cost of denying responsibility. That was Moses’ message to those who were about to enter the Promised Land: that a free society can be built only by people who accept the responsibility of freedom, subjects who refuse to see themselves as objects, people who define themselves by love of God, not hatred of the other. “Do not hate an Egyptian, because you were a stranger in his land,” said Moses, meaning: to be free, you have to let go of hate.

Rabbi Shai Held, The Heart of Torah, vol 2, location 4850

Yet the point goes beyond “theological resonance” to a practical implication: Despite his status as a slave somewhere else, now that he has arrived in the land, the runaway slave is utterly free—as free as God, as it were. The whole land is a sanctuary, and the entire people is summoned to welcome those who arrive in search in freedom. No place in the land is off limits to these fugitives, and no individual Israelite is exempt from the obligation to welcome and harbor them. The Torah worries that some Israelites will take in runaway slaves only to succumb to the temptation to turn them into their own slaves. The final words of the statute, “you shall not oppress him,” serve as a warning: Do not enslave those runaways you have taken in.

Richard Elliott Friedman, Commentary on the Torah, p. 2806

24:16. each through his own sin. This does not contradict the statement that God “reckons fathers’ crime on children and on children’s children, on third generations and on fourth generations” (Exod 34:7). That applies to divine justice and may refer to the way in which behavior recurs through generations in a family. This applies to human justice and refers to the point of law that Israelite courts cannot execute people for their relatives’ offenses.

Ibn Ezra on Deuteronomy 25:19

THOU SHALT NOT FORGET. Scripture says this after having already stated Remember…(v. 17) for emphasis.

Judith Plaskow in Torah: A Women's Commentary, p. 2901

The process of remembering brings with it an obligation to ethical discernment: which memories do we want to affirm and further develop and which do we want to repudiate or transform? We cannot forget the commandments to exclude the Ammonites or blot out the memory of Amalek because their presence in the Torah reminds us of how easy it is to respond to vengeance with more vengeance, or injustice with more injustice. But we can also consciously cultivate memories that encourage us to stop the cycle of violence and domination.