Gratitude – A Hereditary Trait?
Parshas Ki Seitzei
Posted
on September 9, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner
Marriage: The tie that binds. It is the building-block of
any nation and the foundation for its growth. Yet Jewish law restricts whom the
children of Abraham may marry – even among those who share their own faith. The
Torah tells us that neither an Ammonite nor Moabite male may marry into the
direct descendants of Abraham.
True they may marry other converts, but they can never
enter a direct union with descendants of Klal Yisrael.
The Torah tells us the reason for this restriction. “On the
fact that they (Ammon) did not greet you with bread and water as you left Egypt
and for employing (Moab) Bilaam the son of Pe’or to curse you” (Deuteronomy
23:4-5)
One must truly wonder: according to the Torah, anyone is
allowed to become a Jew. It requires acceptance of the mitzvos and
the responsibilities that Judaism entails. Yet the Torah it seems, has great
reason to disallow males who descend from the nation of Ammon and Moab from
marrying direct descendants of Abraham. Surely it is solely not the refusal of
bread and water or the employing of a sorcerer to curse the Jews. After all,
the Egyptians enslaved the descendants of Jacob, nevertheless, Egyptian
converts may marry Jews – albeit after three generations of waiting. Even
converted descendants of our enemy Esau may marry the children of his nemesis
brother Yaakov. What then is the inherent evil trait of Ammon and Moab that
disallows their union with Abraham?
A brilliant young student entered the portals of Yeshiva Torah Voda’ath
in the 1940s. Hailing from a distinguished rabbinic family which instilled
within him a creative mind, he questioned some of the arcane dormitory rules
and restrictions that were imposed with boys of less character in mind.
But rules, said the dormitory counselor, are rules and he
wanted to have the young student temporarily expelled until he would agree to
conform. An expulsion of that sort would have left the young man (who lived out
of town) no alternative but to leave the Yeshiva.
They brought the matter before the Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi
Yaakov Kamenetzky. “True,” he said, “rules are rules, but I owe this young man
something.” The dorm counselor looked stunned.
“In the 1800s this boy’s great-grandfather helped establish
the kollel (fellowship program for married Torah scholars) at which I would
study some decades later. I owe his family a debt of gratitude. If the rules
disallow his stay in the dormitory, then he will sleep in my home.”
An essential trait of the Jewish people is gratitude. The
children of Avraham are instilled with it, whether it be
gratitude to Hashem or his mortal messengers. However, it
seems that Ammon and Moab have no sense of gratitude. Their forebear was
Lot, Avraham’s nephew who raised Lot and was saved by him during a vicious war. Avraham taught Lot the spirit of hospitality and
helped establish him in life. Yet Lot’s children, Ammon, and Moab, showed no
gratitude. In fact, they were eager to destroy Avraham’s children – both
physically and spiritually. There can be no fusion of those two traits.
We can handle enemies. When an Edomite or Egyptian accepts
the faith, he can become a true partner in every aspect that bonds Jews – even
marriage. But in the harmony of the Jewish family, in the building the future
of our nation, there is no room for ingrates.
Moabite women however, are exempt from the ban. It seems
that they had no control over the decisions. How interesting it is to note that
the Moabite convert, Ruth, the woman who showed tremendous gratitude toward her
mother-in-law was the precedent-setting example that lifted the ban on
Moabite-women converts.
Those actions of gratitude and understanding ultimately led
to the birth of King David the forebear of Moshiach.
Life Between the Cracks
Parshas Ki Seitzei
Posted
on August 24, 2018 (5778) By Torah.org | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner
I was about 15 years old when I lost a Siddur (prayer book) on a backpacking trip near
the summit of New Hampshire’s Mt. Washington, the highest peak in the
Northeastern United States. It must have fallen out of my pocket at a pit-stop
along the hike. After my return to New York, I had no dreams of seeing that
Siddur again. Besides, it didn’t have much sentimental value to me, so it
wasn’t a great loss.
Sometime later, maybe a few months, I received a manila
envelope in the mail addressed to me, and inside I was shocked to find my
Siddur. The short handwritten note inside explained that the finder was hiking
along the Mt. Washington trail and found this little book between the rocks
with my address in it, and they thought I would want it back. This random
kindness from a complete stranger left a strong impression on my 15-year-old
mind, and of course I wrote back a grateful reply.
The return of another’s property, even the smallest thing,
can bring them so much joy.
It’s a Mitzva to return lost items,
as detailed in this week’s Torah portion (Deut 22:1-3). From a careful reading
of the verse — “VaHaSheivosa Lo” – “and
you should return it to him” — the Talmud (Sanhedrin 63a) extends this commandment
to healing others, returning their health and ability to live.
If this Mitzva applies
to physical objects and physical wellbeing, then it surely applies to restoring
a spiritual loss. As much as we value the things we own and our health, our
greatest value is our spiritual life. We derive so much
meaning from our relationships with others, and our relationship with G-d. Just like my prayer book, so many souls
have fallen between the rocks. How many have become lost in the endless
pursuit of the perfect house, the perfect job, the perfect car, and the perfect
restaurant? People may not be in touch with the reality, but there is so much
joy to be found in a spiritual experience, and a spiritual relationship with
the source of all life and meaning, our Al-mighty Creator. (Based on Tiferes
Shimshon)
“Lo Suchal L’Hisalem” – “We can’t hide and ignore (Deut
22:3)” what’s being lost in our culture of indulgence and diversion. True
love to our friends and family, and even complete strangers, is expressed when
we introduce them to a prayer, a Mitzva, and
an inspiring or novel Torah thought.
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