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Teaching Torah, Teaching Teshuvah

Ki Tavo 5776/24 September 2016

September 27, 2016

Parashat Ki Tavo marks a turning point in Sefer Devarim. With the exception of the first five verses, the entire book until now has recorded Moses’ final address to the children of Israel, a first-person recap of the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt, the covenant at Sinai, and their generation-long travel through the wilderness. With this morning’s fourth aliyah, at the beginning of chapter 27, the Torah shifts back to a third-person narrator. Moses’ monologue is over, and the Torah begins laying out a new ritual for the Israelites to perform once they settle the promised land.

Indeed, immediately after Joshua’s army conquers the city of Ai we see them enact the very ritual described in parashat Ki Tavo. Even a basic comparison of Deuteronomy 27:1-8 and Joshua 8:30-35 shows how precisely the two rituals line up. Here is the altar of unhewn stone,[1] the steles upon which the Torah is written,[2] the two-part assembly of the tribes and the declaration of blessings and curses.[3] Everything about these stories, both here and in Joshua, rings true. Archaeologists have unearthed many steles inscribed with laws, just like the ones depicted here. The Bible’s earlier description of Joshua setting up twelve steles, one for each tribe, renders the idea of writing down the entire Torah quite plausible. A stele the size of the one on which the Code of Hammurabi was inscribed, seven and a half feet tall, could contain about half of the book of Deuteronomy; the Torah would certainly fit if written across twelve such stones.[4] The ritual elements here are consistent with other covenantal rituals described elsewhere in the Bible,[5] as well as other ancient Near Eastern political and religious rites.

Throughout the history of Bible interpretation, from medieval Jewish commentaries to modern academic scholars, the dominant school of thought has taken this story at face value: a perfectly credible, practical covenantal ritual to formalize the Israelites’ entry into their land.[6] More remarkable, in considering what should be a straightforward episode, is a midrash quoted by Rashi:

“בַּאֵר הֵיטֵֽב” – בשבעים לשון:

“Most distinctly” — In seventy languages.[7]

Let’s unpack this. The phrase “Seventy languages” does not mean precisely seventy; instead, the phrase is Rabbinic shorthand indicating all the languages in the world, just as “seventy nations” is meant to encompass all the nations of the world. The Hebrew בַּאֵר הֵיטֵֽב, translated in our Humash as “most distinctly,” literally means “very clear.” We could understand the English word “clear” in two ways: in its literal sense, that the letters are precisely shaped and written; or we could adopt a conceptual definition of “clear” as “explained well.”[8] The Hebrew בַּאֵר encompasses the same range of meanings, and the plain sense of the verse argues for a literal explanation: Moses stressing that the engraved letters must be easily legible. The midrash, however, leans toward the other definition — the writing must be clear in content, requiring it to be inscribed in every language known to man, in each nation’s native alphabet.[9] 

What a strange scenario! Any attempt to understand thismidrash immediately comes up against two fundamental questions: how could the Israelites possibly produce so many translations of the Torah; and why do the seventy nations — who were not part of the covenant at Sinai and have no obligation in the mitzvot — even need a copy of the Torah in their native language?

Even if we assume that, among the 600,000 Israelites, there were enough linguists to produce seventy translations of the Torah, and scribes proficient in the script of each language, we still can’t escape the practical absurdity. We said earlier that two large steles should be sufficient to contain the book of Deuteronomy,[10] and therefore we can assume that the twelve steles Joshua erected would suffice to engrave the Torah. Multiply that by seventy, and we end up with over eight hundred steles! All the cutting, arranging, and engraving is enough to make your head spin. We can always chalk it up to a miracle, as some commentaries do,[11] but I find that a little too easy to satisfy me.

Moreover, even without any practical concerns the second question — why bother producing editions of the Torah for the other nations at all — still poses a problem. Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg offers an elegant solution to both questions:

אין מן ההכרח לפרש “את כל דברי התורה הזאת,” מ”בראשית” עד “לעיני כל ישראל,” כי אם מצות כלליות כפרשת “שמע,” “והיה אם שמוע,” וכדומה להן. ולכן אמרו (סוטה לה ע”ב) שכתבו עליהם את התורה בשבעים לשון לתועלות האומות שילמדוה (ע”ש ברש”י), ואין האומות מצווים על שמירת כל מצות התורה כדאמרינן (דברים לג, ד) “תורה צוה לנו,” לנו ולא לאומות העולם, אלא על כללת התורה מדבר, והוא אחדות הבורא.

It is unnecessary to explain every word of this teaching as the entire text of the Torah; instead it means general mitzvot like the passage of Shema and others like it. And therefore the Talmud (Sotah 35b) states that they wrote the Torah in seventy languages for the Nations’ benefit, that they should learn it (see Rashi there); the Nations are not commanded to observe all of the mitzvot in the Torah, as we say: Moses commanded us in the Torah (Deut. 33:4), us and not the Nations of the World, so the verse here must refer to the Torah’s fundamental principle, which is the unity of the Creator [i.e., monotheism].[12]

Agreeing with earlier commentators who argued that the “Torah” described here refers not to all five books of Moses but to some smaller portion,[13] Mecklenburg takes this line of thought to its logical conclusion: the entire Torah, condensed to its most basic essence, speaks to the unity of God as the Creator and source of all existence — which the Torah insists all people, regardless of religion or nationality, recognize as a fundamental moral truth. A few critical passages on this topic, even translated into many languages, could be written quickly and fit in a small amount of space, potentially on the same twelve steles we’ve already considered. Monotheism, in contrast to most other mitvot, is a commandment that rests on all humanity, not only the Jews — and thus the steles provide a kind of public service announcement to the other nations, calling their attention to God’s unity.

The Talmud, as you may expect, goes on to ask why God wants the Israelites to set up these steles. We don’t think of Judaism as a missionary religion; how do we explain the sudden desire to project our core beliefs onto other nations? The Talmud proposes two answers. The first approach notes that, according to halakhah and most other justice systems, a person can’t be held liable for a law about which he was, in good faith, completely unaware. God intends these inscriptions to deny the other nations any excuse; they had the means and opportunity to learn and adopt the Torah’s monotheistic worldview, but did not. When, ultimately, God sits in judgment of humanity, they will deserve their consequences.[14] 

The other perspective proposes that the inscription closed with the verse about Canaanite nations, לְמַעַן אֲשֶׁר לֹֽא־יְלַמְּדוּ אֶתְכֶם לַֽעֲשׂוֹת כְּכֹל תּֽוֹעֲבֹתָם אֲשֶׁר עָשׂוּ לֵאלֹֽהֵיהֶם, “So that they will not teach you to do according to all their abominable practices that they have done for their gods.”[15] Closing with this verse stresses that the Canaanites will be expelled from the land on account of their idolatry — but also pointing out that their expulsion is conditional and, if they do teshuvah, if they repent, they will be forgiven and embraced.[16] 

While these approaches to the midrash might initially seem diametrically opposed, in fact they share a common foundation. Next week, as we stand in prayer on Rosh HaShanah, we will find the same duality in the heart of our Mahzor. During the prayer Unetaneh Tokef, one of the highlights of the High Holy Day liturgy, we acknowledge, וְחוֹתַם יַד כָל אָדָם בּוֹ, “our own hands have signed the page,” accepting responsibility for the consequences of our behavior — and just a few lines later we sing, וּתְשׁוּבָה וּתְפִלָה וּצְדָקָה מַעֲבִירִין אֶת רֹֽעַ הַגְזֵרָה, “T’shuvah, T’fillah, and Tz’dakah have the power to transform the harshness of our destiny,”[17] holding out the promise that through our contrition and repentance we can rewrite the course of our lives.

The prayer reminds us that while we will inevitably pay for our wrongdoing, at the same time the door is always open for those who wish to change. Both of these premises share the assumption that each of us possesses unfettered free will to do as we choose. The very concept of teshuvah depends on our freedom to act, without influence or restraint. As Maimonides wrote, “Free will was granted to all humans… and there is no one to force or decree or pull him toward one of the paths; instead he, of his own will and accord, inclines toward whichever path he chooses.” By the same token, any consequences for immoral behavior would lack justification in the absence of free will. Seventy-five years ago, as he surveyed a world descending into chaos, the American Catholic philosopher John A. Ryan summed up the intrinsic connection between morality and free will:

The determinist cannot attribute to the oppressors moral blame or pronounce upon them moral condemnation… If the will be not free, no ethical appeal can reasonably be made to the oppressors of the poor, the political users of tyrannical force, the Hitlers, the Stalins, or the Mussolinis, to refrain from their suppression of freedom.[18] 

To deny free will is to deny moral accountability. As Maimonides points out, because we have free will, “The sinner destroys himself;”[19] and yet this moral accountability also produces the capacity for regret, repentance, change, and atonement.[20] The same force within each one of us, our free will to act, at once imposes and relieves us of consequences.

We’re a week away from Rosh HaShanah, and it’s time to get serious. Are we any different than the seventy nations of the midrash? We, too, have the opportunity to reflect on our choices and seek moral guidance. Have I done that this year? Am I ready to stand accountable before the Master of the World for the way I live? Have I marshalled the strength to acknowledge where I have missed the mark and change my behavior for the better? When the time comes, when my hand signs the page, will my free will condemn me, or will it set me free? I pray that each of us will choose the latter path, and may we all be written in the Book of Life.


[1]        Deut. 27:5, Josh. 8:30-31.

[2]        Deut. 27:2-3, 8, Josh. 8:32.

[3]        Deut. 27:11-26, Josh. 8:33-35.

[4]        Jeffrey Tigay, The JPS Torah Commentary: Deuteronomy 27:3.

[5]        Cf. Ex. 24, Josh. 24.

[6]        Ibn Ezra, Rashbam, and Bekhor Shor, Deut. 27:8; Ralbag, Josh. 8:31; Tigay, The JPS Torah Commentary: Deuteronomy 27:1-8.

[7]        Rashi, Deut. 27:8 (quoting Mishnah Sotah 7.5).

[8]        Cf. Tigay, The JPS Torah Commentary: Deuteronomy 1:5.

[9]        Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah, Sotah 7.5; Tiferet Yisrael:Yakhin, Sotah 7.5 n.20; cf. Maharsha, Hiddushei Aggadot, Sotah 32a.

[10]        See above, n.6.

[11]        See, e.g., Ramban, Deut. 27:3.

[12]        Ha-K’tav ve-ha-Kabbalah, Deut. 27:8

[13]        E.g., only the book of Deuteronomy (Lieberman, Tosefta Kifshuta, Sotah, 700); excerpts from Deuteronomy (Radak, Josh. 8:32; Tigay, JPS Torah Commentary: Deuteronomy 27:3); only the blessings and curses listed in this parshah (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 4.8.44, 307-308; Ralbag, Josh. 8:32; Lieberman; Tigay);a list or index of mitzvot (Ibn Ezra, Deut. 27:2); and the Ten Commandments (Torah Temimah, Deut. 27:8 n.6; Tigay). Cf. Ramban, Deut. 27:3, who argues for understanding “every word of this teaching” as the entire Torah.

[14]        Babylonian Talmud, Sotah 35b (Rabbi Yehudah).

[15]        Deut. 20:18.

[16]        Babylonian Talmud, Sotah 35b (Rabbi Shimon). Cf. Tosefta (Lieberman ed.), Sotah 8.6-7; Lieberman, Tosefta Kifshuta, Sotah, 700-701.

[17]        Mahzor Lev Shalem, 315-316.

[18]        John A. Ryan, “Religion as the Basis of the Postulates of Freedom,” in Freedom, Its Meaning, ed. Ruth Nanda Anshen (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1940), 476-477. Cf. Maimonides, Laws of Teshuvah, Ch. 5-6.

[19]        Maimonides, Laws of Teshuvah 5.2.

[20]        Maimonides, Laws of Teshuvah 7.1, 7.6.

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