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Moishe Moment - Shoftim 5778

Hi everyone! Faustine again, sending you thoughts from Paris before we enter Shabbat. I'm using Sefaria and its sourcesheets tool again this week. Please email me if you have any question, plan or thoughts about this! [email protected]

This week, amongst other things, the Biblical text gives guidelines on how to start a war. You might expect to read diplomatic or geopolitical advice. Instead is this very surprising consideration: one who has built a house and not dedicated it cannot go to war. The text goes on to dismiss people who have planted a vineyard and not harvested it and someone who has paid a dowry for a woman and not married her. (Sefaria pro-tip: if you click on the reference of the text, you can access the full version!)

(א) כִּֽי־תֵצֵ֨א לַמִּלְחָמָ֜ה עַל־אֹיְבֶ֗יךָ וְֽרָאִ֜יתָ ס֤וּס וָרֶ֙כֶב֙ עַ֚ם רַ֣ב מִמְּךָ֔ לֹ֥א תִירָ֖א מֵהֶ֑ם כִּֽי־ה' אֱלֹקֶ֙יךָ֙ עִמָּ֔ךְ הַמַּֽעַלְךָ֖ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ (...) (ה) וְדִבְּר֣וּ הַשֹּֽׁטְרִים֮ אֶל־הָעָ֣ם לֵאמֹר֒ מִֽי־הָאִ֞ישׁ אֲשֶׁ֨ר בָּנָ֤ה בַֽיִת־חָדָשׁ֙ וְלֹ֣א חֲנָכ֔וֹ יֵלֵ֖ךְ וְיָשֹׁ֣ב לְבֵית֑וֹ פֶּן־יָמוּת֙ בַּמִּלְחָמָ֔ה וְאִ֥ישׁ אַחֵ֖ר יַחְנְכֶֽנּוּ׃

(1) When you take the field against your enemies, and see horses and chariots—forces larger than yours—have no fear of them, for the LORD your God, who brought you from the land of Egypt, is with you. (...) (5) Then the officials shall address the troops, as follows: “Is there anyone who has built a new house but has not dedicated it? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another dedicate it.

Sketch of last year's sukkah at MH London!

Why is that? You might understand that from an individual point of view, someone might be disappointed to go to war in such conditions. But why would a collective, legal, normative text make it a requirement?! Why can't a society ask such a person to fight?

One of my favorite topics of Jewish study is the concept of home. It is perhaps why I believe so much in the work we do together at Moishe House. It is also the topic I chose for the first Jewish learning retreat I organized, a bit over a year ago in Sofia. I had invited the incredible Chaya Gilboa as our guest educator and she taught this precise text. To this day, I think it might be one of the most insightful and beautiful conceptualizations of home I have read in a Jewish text.

The first insight is that you can't ask someone to join a collective and stand for it if they don't have a very concrete individual place to ground themselves. If they don't have a place for individuality, they can't make the effort of collectivity. And collectivity shouldn't be asking you to give up on your personal identity and landmarks.

The second is perhaps more specifically about the military. Fighting is hard. It was certainly hard to fight those Biblical wars. This is also a main feature of the life of activists: stepping into the world to change its order might be necessary, but it is always a physical, intellectual and moral trial. In my opinion, the Biblical verses give an apparently simple condition, that is actually much deeper: you need a home to fight. You need memories, values, loved ones, safe spaces, intimacy to energize you to change the outter world. Whereas one might think that such a strong sense of self precludes joining a collective endeavor, the Bible flips the logic around: it is precisely the very condition of it.

That same day, Chaya also taught us the following poem by Israeli poet Avraham Shlonski.

אברהם שלונסקי, כתלי ביתי, בתוך שירים, כרך ה (תל אביב:
ספריית פועלים, 1971)

כָּתְלֵי בֵּיתִי אֵינָם כְּחַיִץ לִי בֵּינִי לְבֵין
עוֹלָם,
יֵשׁ חֶסֶד הַצְמִיחָה, הַמַקְשִׁיבָה אַךְ
פְּנִימָה,
כִּי הַמַקְשִׁיב לַכֹּל אֵינוֹ שׁוֹמֵעַ כְּלוּם,
רַק הַמַחְרִישׁ הֲמֻלוֹתָיו לְשֶׁמַע הַדְמָמָה
שׁוֹמֵעַ אֶת הַכֹּל וְאֶת כֻּלָם.
כָּתְלֵי בֵּיתִי אֵינָם כְּחַיִץ לִי בֵּינִי לְבֵין
עוֹלָם,
הֵם עֲצִימַת-עֵינָיו שֶׁל הָרוֹאֶה דָבָר עַד
תֹם;
כִּי הָרוֹאֶה הַכֹּל אֵינוֹ רוֹאֶה מְאוּמָה,
רַק הַצוֹפֶה אֶל הָאֶחָד-וְאֵין-בִּלְתוֹ
זוֹכֶה לִרְאוֹת כָּל הַדְבָרִים כֻּלָם.
כָּתְלֵי בֵּיתִי אֵינָם כְּחַיִץ לִי בֵּינִי לְבֵין עוֹלָם,
הֵם סוֹד הַהִתְגַלוּת לוֹמַר בְּאֵין מַכְלִים;
כִּי הַדוֹבֵר בַּשַׁעַר אֵינוֹ דוֹבֵר לְאִישׁ,
וְהַסָחִים טַנְדוּ סָחִים אַךְ זֶה לָזֶה,
רַק הַמֵסִחַ עִם נַפְשׁוֹ מֵסִיחַ עִם כֻּלָם.
כָּתְלֵי בֵּיתִי אֵינָם כְּחַיִץ לִי בֵּינִי לְבֵין
עוֹלָם.

Avraham Shlonski, The Walls of My Home, in Poems, vol. 5 (Tel Aviv, 1971)

The walls of my home are not a wedge
that divides me from the world; (...) they are the closing of the eyes of someone who
is able to see something fully, in all of its
depth; because the person who sees
everything in fact cannot see a single
thing, it is just the person who focuses
on one thing, a one-and-only merits
seeing absolutely everything.


The walls of my home are not a wedge
that divides me from the world; they are
the secret of revelation saying freely; for
the speaker at the gate is not speaking
to any man, and the talkers are talking
together, but this one to that one, only
the person conversing with his soul
converses with everyone.


The walls of my home are not a wedge

that divides me from the world.

One's home should be safe and comfortable. And what this teaches me is that such a safe and comofrtable home is also what will give you the strength and responsibility to deal with the unexpected, to see and change the world. There lies the essential importance of building homes and of giving people who have left theirs new ones.

My teachers in this are the Bible, and Shlonski, and they're also each of the Moishe House residents I've met, embracing the challenge to build strong homes that give roots and wings to change the (Jewish) world.

On this note, I'll leave you with a beautiful song you might want to sing with your people at your table Friday night! (Don't worry, I swear it's simpler than it looks: just two sentences!)

(...) אִם־ה' ׀ לֹא־יִבְנֶ֬ה בַ֗יִת שָׁ֤וְא ׀ עָמְל֣וּ בוֹנָ֣יו בּ֑וֹ אִם־ה' לֹֽא־יִשְׁמָר־עִ֝֗יר שָׁ֤וְא ׀ שָׁקַ֬ד שׁוֹמֵֽר׃

Im Hashem lo yivneh bayit, shav amlu bonav bo

Im Hashem lo yishmor ir, shav shakad shomer

Translation: Unless God builds the house, its builders labor in vain ; unless God watches over the city, the watchman keeps vigil in vain.