Terumah: Humanity and Battle Ethics Hinted at in Moshe's Rebuke

00:04 Good evening to all our listeners and viewers. This Shabbos is Parshas Devarim. It is the Shabbos of Tisha B’Av; may it be transformed into joy and celebration, and may its evil be completely banished, with Hashem’s help. There is a hint to Tisha B’Av in the parsha. We read, “How can I bear alone your burden, your load, and your quarrels?” The opening of the book of Devarim actually began in... the month of Shvat and continued until 7 Adar. Moshe finished speaking the entire book of Devarim to them. These were Moshe’s final heart-to-heart talks. Most of Devarim deals with moral guidance, love, awe, faith, and the fundamentals of Judaism. It also contains practical mitzvos that are repeated and explained in Mishneh Torah; the rest is moral guidance. In any case, in Parshas Devarim we find Moshe recounting to the Jewish people, who are now about to enter the Land, the stories of the wars they fought in the wilderness. Interesting. If he were recounting the sin of the spies, forty years had already passed. There were young people there who hadn’t been around then. The splitting of the sea, the Exodus from Egypt—we can understand that. But he goes on at length about the wars with Sichon and Og, which had just happened to the people listening to him. They had experienced them firsthand. After all, Parshas Chukas and Parshas Matos tell us about the wars with Sichon and Og, and now those people are standing before him. They are the soldiers who were there. Why go back and tell them what we did with Sichon and Og? There must be some reason to preserve this story for future generations. What is behind it? And perhaps this has a connection—perhaps it has a connection to how one person treats another, to the various social wrongs that led to the destruction. Let’s see. In chapter 2, verse 34, Moshe Rabbeinu tells the generation about to enter the Land what happened in the war with Sichon. He says, “We captured all his cities at that time, and we utterly destroyed every city of men”

03:40 “and the women and children; we left no survivor. Only the animals we took as spoil for ourselves, along with the plunder of the cities we had captured.” On this verse, Rashi says something very strange. Let’s take a look. Verse 34. Rashi comments on the word “mesim.” Not “dead people,” with a tzeirei—“mesim.” Vos dos? What is that? What does “every city of mesim” mean? I know what women and children are. What are mesim? Rashi says, “Mesim—men.” It is a Hebrew term for men. Fine, I understand. Suddenly Rashi continues: “Regarding the spoils of Sichon, it says bazaznu lanu, an expression of taking spoils.” Why? Because they treasured the spoils, and each man plundered for himself. But when they came to the spoils of Og, they were already sated and had plenty, and the spoils were contemptible in their eyes. They tore up and threw away animals and clothing, taking only silver and gold. And so what does it say? In the war with Og, which we haven’t learned about yet—it’s in the coming chapters—it says, “And the plunder of the cities, bazonu lanu.” Why doesn’t it say bazaznu, as it does here? He explains that bazonu expresses contempt: they held all the spoils in contempt. Rashi concludes, “This is how it is expounded in the Sifrei, in the section ‘And Israel settled in Shittim.’” This Rashi is puzzling and raises many questions. First, we have a rule that Rashi tries not to repeat something he has already explained. We already find his explanation of the word mesim in Bereishis, chapter 34. Interestingly, the same number as the verse here, 34. There it’s chapter 34, verse 4; here it’s verse 34. There, Yaakov says to his sons, “You have troubled me,” because they, uh, killed the people of Shechem, “and all the peoples will gather against me, and I am mesei mispar.” There Rashi explains mesei mispar as “few men.” So we’ve already seen that mesei means men. Why does he need to repeat it? It’s also interesting: if it means men, why does the verse say mesei? That’s an unusual way to refer to men. Usually it says men, women and children, or the males and the children. Mesei? All right, let’s say it’s legitimate to call men mesei, but why switch to that term specifically here? They aren’t called that everywhere. Why are they called that here? Besides, the structure of Rashi’s commentary is really puzzling. The opening word he comments on is mesim. He explains mesim: men. Okay, that’s settled. Now he wants to explain the difference between the spoils of Sichon and the spoils of Og. He should begin a new comment. He should open with the word bazaznu and explain why it says one thing here and another there. But the word bazaznu doesn’t even appear in verse 34. Rashi began with mesim in verse 34; bazaznu, regarding Sichon, appears in verse 35. So he should have begun a new comment on verse 35 with bazaznu, noted that later it says bazonu, and explained the difference. Instead, he puts it right after “mesim—men,” and immediately begins, “Regarding the spoils of Sichon, it says bazaznu.” Why does he put this under the heading mesim? Interestingly, if we look at the next verse, the one that says bazaznu, there is no question at all. Everyone knows what bazaznu means. We took spoils—that’s called bazaznu. Where does the apparent discrepancy arise? In the later verse, about the spoils of Og. That comes much later. We haven’t learned it yet. When we reach the story of the war with Og and it says bazonu lanu, that’s the place to ask: Why did you change it to bazonu? Why didn’t you say bazaznu? But here there is no question. Bazaznu is an ordinary word. We took spoils. So I don’t understand why he raises the question here. Another question: Rashi’s answer is also difficult. Why? What does he say? Regarding the spoils of Sichon, each man plundered for himself.

07:12 So I understand why it says bazaznu lanu: we took the spoils for ourselves. But regarding the spoils of Og, you say they held them in contempt and tore them up and threw them away. Then it should have said, “And the animals and the plunder of the cities, bazonu.” That’s it. Without adding lanu—“for ourselves”—because when I throw something away, it isn’t for me; it’s for the garbage. Now, someone might want to argue that perhaps Rashi proves his point from this, because Rashi says that although they threw away the animals and clothing, they did take the silver and gold. So perhaps that is what the verse means by bazonu lanu. What was “for ourselves”? The silver and gold, which they did take for themselves. But that doesn’t seem a reasonable explanation. Why? Because he explained bazonu as an expression of contempt: they held the spoils in contempt. So the part of the spoils they despised and threw in the garbage cannot be described as “for ourselves,” while the part they did take for themselves—the silver and gold—wasn’t bazonu. They didn’t despise the silver and gold; they took it for themselves. So the answer doesn’t resolve the question. In general, anyone familiar with Hebrew knows that many verbs are sometimes written in a shorter form and sometimes in a longer form. For example, vayilonu is the same as vayislonenu. Vayaronu is like vayranenu. So bazonu is like bazaznu. It’s not such a big question that requires... Why is there any need to explain it? Once he says bazaznu, another time bazonu. That’s how Scripture speaks. The final question concerns the end of Rashi’s comment, which is also worded in a very unusual way. Usually, Rashi simply writes, “As it says in the Sifrei.” That’s it. Here he says, “This is how it is expounded in the Sifrei, in the section”—he doesn’t say Balak—“the section ‘And Israel settled in Shittim.’” That’s a very strange reference. Why did he change it? If he says “in the Sifrei,” I’ll find it there. To explain this, perhaps we should first raise a general difficulty that applies here, throughout the entire

10:16 So I understand why it says “bazaznu lanu”—“we plundered for ourselves”—because we took the spoils for ourselves. But with the spoils of Og, you’re saying they were contemptible in their eyes, and they tore them up and threw them away. So it should have said, “And all the livestock and the spoils of the cities, bazonu”—“we treated them with contempt.” That’s it. Without adding “for ourselves,” because when I throw something away, it isn’t for us; it goes in the trash. So someone wanted to argue that perhaps this is what Rashi’s proof is based on: Rashi says that they did throw away the livestock and clothing, but they did take the silver and gold. So perhaps that’s what the verse means by “bazonu lanu.” What did they take for themselves? The silver and gold. But that doesn’t seem to be the meaning. Why? Because “bazonu” was explained as coming from the word for contempt: the spoils were contemptible in their eyes. So the part of the spoils that they treated with contempt and threw in the trash cannot be described as “for ourselves,” while the part they did take for themselves—the silver and gold—wasn’t “bazonu.” They didn’t treat the silver and gold with contempt; they took it for themselves. So that answer doesn’t resolve the question. In general, anyone familiar with the Holy Tongue knows that many verbs are sometimes written in a shorter form and sometimes in a longer form. For example, “vayalinu” is the same as “vayislonenu,” and “vayarinu” is like “vayaranenu.” So “bazonu” is like “bazaznu.” It’s not such a major question that it needs an explanation. Why explain it at all? Sometimes the verse says “bazaznu,” and sometimes it says “bazonu.” That’s how the verses are written. The final question concerns the end of Rashi’s commentary, which is also phrased in a very unusual way. Usually Rashi just writes, “As it says in the Sifrei.” That’s all. Here he says, “This is expounded in the Sifrei, in the passage”—he doesn’t say “Balak”—“And Israel dwelt in Shittim.” That’s a really strange way to cite a source. Why did he change it? If he says “in the Sifrei,” I’ll find it there. To explain this, perhaps we can begin with a general difficulty that arises here, throughout the entire

13:24 Moses tells the story at length, with all the details of the wars against Sichon and Og. Why does he go into all these details? He includes not only the war and the victory, but also the way the Israelite fighters treated the civilian population in the cities and the spoils. Interestingly, in the original account—if you read Parshas Chukas and Parshas Matos—it speaks about the war itself. It tells of the war, the victory, and the cities that were conquered. It says nothing about the civilian population or the plunder. Why does Moses mention it? Why does he go back over it? Especially since they had just been there in the war. It had happened just now, shortly before entering the Land. Interesting. That same teaching about “we plundered and took spoils” also appears in Yalkut Shimoni. But there it says nothing critical of the Jewish people. It only says that Moses said it to make known the great miracles—how they became wealthy there through great miracles. The question is, if he were talking about the victory, fine: defeating such mighty kings and conquering their cities was a great miracle. We should praise and thank Hashem. But what miracle is there in killing the defenseless civilian population after the victory? They killed even the women and children, and plundered them as well. A fine thing to do? That is hardly desirable conduct. So I want to suggest an idea. Rashi says at the beginning of the book that Moses spoke words of rebuke and instruction to the Jewish people before taking leave of them, but out of respect for them, he conveyed his rebuke by allusion. It is reasonable to assume that the details here are not just a news report. They were there; they know everything that happened and everything they did or did not do. There is an implicit rebuke here for those about to enter the Land. Let’s

16:20 see what that rebuke is. Let’s examine whether Sichon and Og belonged to the seven nations or not. At first glance, since the verses consistently call Sichon and Og kings of the Emorites, and the Emorites were one of the seven nations, it would seem that they belonged to the seven nations of the Land of Canaan. The command “You shall not let any soul live” would indeed apply to them. The Ramban notices this and comments on the verse, “We placed every city of men, women, and children under the ban.” Why? Because they were Emorites, and we were commanded concerning them, “You shall not let any soul live.” I have not been able to understand his interpretation. The Ohr Hachayim disagrees with him. Anyone familiar with the map of those regions knows that the promised Land of Canaan, with its seven nations, which they were now going to receive through Yehoshua bin Nun, is the land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan. That is the Promised Land. So much so that when some tribes wanted to take land east of the Jordan, Moses rebuked them: Are you abandoning the Promised Land? True, the text says “Sichon, king of the Emorites.” He was originally an Emorite, but the lands of Sichon and Og were across the Jordan. They had conquered Moav. Ammon and Moav became permissible through Sichon: he had conquered their land. He had been their protector. So they are called kings of the Emorites because they themselves were Emorites. But the land they conquered was east of the Jordan, and its population was not from the seven nations. The Ohr Hachayim says this explicitly: the Emorite cities spoken of in connection with Sichon were not part of what Hashem gave Avraham, and were never included in the gift of the seven nations whose time had come. Og’s land was in Bashan altogether. It was not in the Promised Land of the seven nations. So if the people living there, the residents, were not Emorites, the command “You shall not let any soul live” did not apply to them. Let’s look at explicit verses in Devarim, chapter 20. It says there: “When you approach

19:45 a city to wage war against it,” you must first offer it peace. “If it does not make peace with you and wages war against you, you shall strike all its males by the sword.” Only the males. “But the women, the children, and the livestock you may take as spoils.” You may plunder them, but not kill the women and children. “So you shall do to all the cities that are far from you, which are not among the cities of these nations.” The law is different for the seven nations: “Only from the cities of these peoples, which Hashem your G-d gives you as an inheritance”—the seven nations west of the Jordan—there, “you shall not let any soul live” if they have not made peace with you. Rather, “you shall utterly destroy them: the Chittites, the Emorites, the Canaanites, the Perizites, the Chivites, and the Yevusites, as Hashem your G-d commanded you.” And the Rambam rules this explicitly. In Hilchos Melachim, chapter 6, he says: If they did not make peace, or they made peace but did not accept the seven mitzvos, we wage war against them, kill all the adult males, and take their property and children as spoils. Notice: all the adult males, not the children. “Neither a woman nor a minor is killed.” As it says, “the women and the children”—that includes male children. They are not killed. “When does this apply?” the Rambam concludes. “In an optional war against the other nations. But of the seven nations and Amalek, if they did not make peace, no soul is left alive,” as it says, “So you shall do ... only from the cities of these peoples ... you shall not let any soul live.” So according to the plain meaning of the text, when the Jewish people placed every city of men, women, and children under the ban in the land of Canaan, they acted improperly: they had not been commanded to kill them. And even more serious: why did they also kill all the “men” of every city? What does Rashi say the word means? Men. Wait, but men are supposed to be killed. That is permitted. We asked earlier why the verse uses this unusual word for these men. It hints that Moses is talking about a population of old and weak men. And the proof is in Moses’ account: “There was no city too strong for us.” After Sichon’s entire army was defeated on the battlefield outside the cities, no fighting force remained inside a city. Who was left? Women, children, and men who were on the verge of death—people who needed care, not fighters. True, they were male, but they were not part of a fighting force, and the Israelites killed them. The killing of women and children, which they had not been commanded to do, and of men who were already as good as dead—why did you kill them? And the charge against them is very serious. Why? You are about to cross the Jordan. Why does the Torah say that, in the case of the seven nations of Canaan, every soul is killed, even women and children? That can be understood. We are talking about a case where they did not make peace. Note that if they do make peace, they are left to live in the Land as a minority. Second-class citizens. The Rambam says they may not have authority over anything, may not be appointed to any position of power, and must serve and pay tribute. If they are willing to live under our rule as second-class citizens, we are not told to destroy them. We have no interest in destroying human beings for its own sake. The reason the Torah says not to leave them there if they refuse to make peace and insist on staying is what we learned in Parshas Masei: leaving them presents two problems. One is religious—they might lead you astray into idolatrous culture. The other, more serious problem—or not, depending on how you look at it—is a security problem. Because they are the local inhabitants and have been dispossessed of their land, they will never agree to give up what they see as their legitimate right. They will always be “thorns in your eyes and barbs in your sides,” and eventually they will throw explosives at you. So if you want to leave the country, you are allowed to leave. If you want to make peace and live as second-class citizens, you are allowed to. If not, I have no choice. I cannot leave a fifth column in our land. Either I am in charge here or you are. So that can be understood. But Moses is hinting to them here

22:47 Sichon’s entire army was on the battlefield outside the cities; no fighting force remained inside the city. Who was left? Women and children, and men who were as good as dead—people on the verge of death, needing care, not fighters. True, they were male, but they were not part of a fighting force, and they killed them too. They killed the women and children, whom they had not been commanded to kill, as well as those men who were already as good as dead. Why did you kill them? And the argument against them is very serious. Why? You are about to cross the Jordan. Why does the Torah say to kill every soul among the seven nations of Canaan, even the women and children? That can be understood. We’re talking about a case where they did not make peace. Notice: if they make peace, they are allowed to remain as minorities living in the land—second-class citizens. The Rambam says they may not hold any authority over us, they may not be appointed to any position of power, and they must serve and pay taxes. If they are willing to live under our rule as second-class citizens, we are not told to destroy them. We have no interest in killing people for its own sake. But if they refuse to make peace and insist on staying here, the Torah does not permit us to leave them here, as we learned in Parshas Masei, because that would create two problems. One is religious: they might lead you astray with their idolatrous culture. The other is a security problem—more serious, or not, depending on how you look at it. Since they are the local inhabitants and have been dispossessed of their land, they will never agree to give up what they see as their legitimate right. They will always be thorns in your eyes and barbs in your sides, and eventually they’ll throw explosives at you. So if they want to leave the country, we let them leave. If they want to make peace and live as second-class citizens, we allow that. If not, I have no choice. I cannot leave a fifth column in our land. Either I am in charge, or you are. So that can be understood. But Moshe is hinting to them here

25:33 You are now in the land of Sichon and Og. You are not going to settle there. You fought the Emori because they blocked your passage. You are going to cross the Jordan. So what are you afraid of? That these children will grow up and become soldiers against you? They will not even be living among you. They pose no threat to your future security. What about the women? The women will not cross with you. They will not lead you to sin if you leave them here. Right. And what are you afraid of from these frail elderly people who need care? Are they what frightens you? You gain nothing by killing them. Why did you do it? Someone asked me: Wait a moment, have you forgotten that, in the end, the tribes of Gad and Reuven settled in the land of Sichon and Og? So all the concerns about a remaining population do apply. Very interesting. They could not have made that argument, because they knew nothing about it. The whole story of the tribes of Gad and Reuven came after the war with Sichon and Og. When you were there, no one had any thought that it would ever belong to the Jewish people. So why did you do it? This can also answer another question: Why does Moshe rebuke them only now? He should have rebuked them immediately after the war with Sichon, and then they would not have behaved that way with Og. But they behaved the same way. In other words, the wrongdoing was repeated. Perhaps we can say that Moshe Rabbeinu said nothing to them at the time, even though, for their part, they should not have done it. But he knew that it was known in Heaven that Jews would eventually live there, so he did not stop them from doing what they did. They, however, did not know that. They were acting wickedly when they did it. In light of this, the entire order of Rashi’s commentary becomes clear. Rashi begins the main part of his explanation with the word “mesim.” He explains that it means people. And then the question arises:

28:24 Why does he call people “mesim,” a word that sounds like “dead,” specifically here? Rashi is hinting that Moshe is giving them a subtle rebuke: Why did you annihilate these people who were already half-dead? And Rashi immediately explains what can develop from such needless cruelty. How do people put it today? “Occupation corrupts.” There is something to that. If one does not follow the Torah’s instructions, even dealing with the dead can make a person emotionally numb. Rashi tells us that this needless cruelty led them to become fond of the spoils—so fond that they took more than they needed. Worse still, they carried on that way in the next war, against Og. There, too, it says: “We annihilated every city’s people, the women and the children; only the animals we took as spoils for ourselves.” By then they were not merely chasing after spoils. They had more than enough and were tearing things up and throwing them away, violating the prohibition against needless destruction. You do not want it? Do you want to take it? Then take it. But if you have no use for it, you throw it in the trash. Leave it for the civilian population, so they can sustain themselves from the spoils. Give them what you have taken beyond your needs, so they can live. What came of all this? Even though they were laden with spoils, they did not take only silver and gold. In other words, besides continuing in the next war, against Og, to treat the population cruelly and kill people they had no need to kill, they also began casting their eyes toward excessive material indulgence. A decline. What were the terr—what were the terrible consequences of these bad traits? Cruelty toward human life, vandalism—destruction for its own sake—and unrestrained acquisitiveness. These later caused them to stumble with the daughters of Midian, an event that took place after the wars with Sichon and Og. Rashi continues and alludes to this out of respect for the Jewish people: “Thus it is expounded in Sifrei.” The interpretation of “bazono” and “bazaznu” also appears in Yalkut Shimoni, but there it speaks in their praise. It says that the

31:44 difference serves to show how Hashem miraculously made them wealthy. Rashi chose the Sifrei, where it says that this led to “Israel settled in Shittim.” And what follows? “The people began to commit harlotry with the daughters of Moav.” From the interpretation in Sifrei, we understand how the Jewish people reached such a moral low, and on such a public scale. Twenty thousand people died there; they had been with the daughters of Midian. Frightening! Without shame. What does the Sifrei say there? It is astonishing. The Sifrei directly connects the wars with Sichon and Og to what happened with the daughters of Midian. The Sifrei says: “They came and waged war against Sichon and Og, who fell into their hands, and they took everything they had.” I am skipping a little. “But when Israel had their fill of the spoils,” they began treating the spoils with contempt, “tearing things up and throwing them away, because they wanted only silver and gold.” What happened next? “They came and settled in Shittim, a place of folly, and the Israelites saw people eating and drinking. At that point, a man went out for a stroll.” After the war, after such a victory and such wealth, people went out for a stroll to enjoy the scenery. “And he wanted to buy an item.” Then he entered that marketplace where the prostitutes were selling various things. They offered the men wine—at that point, wine made by non-Jews had not yet been prohibited. “She offers him wine, and the wine burns within him, and he asks her to give herself to him. Then she takes out an image of Peor. ‘Do you want me to do as you ask? Bow down to this.’” Rationalizations. So we see the power of immoral behavior: how it corrupts one’s character until one reaches the lowest moral depths. Moshe hints at all this gently: “We annihilated every city’s people.” On this basis, we can understand something interesting: Why does the verse change from “bazaznu” when describing the spoils of Sichon to “bazono” when describing the spoils of Og? Earlier, we understood it to mean that they considered the spoils contemptible. And we asked: If they held them in contempt, why does it say “bazono for ourselves”? They did not take them for themselves; they threw them away. As for the silver

34:47 and gold that they did take, they did not hold that in contempt. Now it makes perfect sense. When the verse changes to “bazono,” it does not mean that the spoils were contemptible. If that were the meaning, it should have said that we despised the spoils. Instead, the word is phrased as an action upon ourselves: we disgraced ourselves. It is an expression of disgrace. A sharp question: how could Jews sink so low? “Bazono”—we became disgraced. So now this whole strange Rashi makes sense. It all forms a chain. Rashi’s purpose was not merely to explain the literal meaning of “mesim.” He already explained it in Bereishis: on the phrase “few in number,” Rashi says, “a small number of people.” Nor was his purpose merely to explain the change in wording—why it says “bazaznu” here and “bazono” there. Above all, he wanted to explain what lies behind that change. Why does Moshe tell them all this in the first place? From what looks like a grammatical hint, Rashi draws out an ethical message. Why did Moshe see fit to dwell on details that seem so incidental and do not make the miracle any greater? That is why Rashi began by explaining the word “mesim”: people who were near death, or frail people who needed care. Why did you kill them? And not only that: they took far more spoils than they needed, behaving like vandals. This excessive accumulation of wealth led them to bring disgrace upon Israel at Shittim. That is the whole reason Moshe tells them this, as a subtle rebuke. In fact, it fits very well with the whole spirit of Moshe’s words in Devarim. It is a warning to the generation entering the Land. By the way, the warning worked—what he told them now. I said earlier that during the war with Sichon he said nothing. He remained silent because, in the future, Jews would live there, in the land of Sichon and Og. So he told them this only after the wars with Sichon and Og. And it helped: when they fought Midian, they really did kill only the

37:52 They took the men, the women, and the children captive; they did not kill them. Moshe was angry with them only because those people had caused the Jewish people to sin. That is why he was angry: “Have you kept every female alive?” “It was these women who caused the Children of Israel…” But not because females were inherently liable to be put to death simply for being female. So we see that it helped. This is the spirit throughout the book of Devarim. We find it in chapter 8—we were just talking about chapter 2. In chapter 8 it says that when you enter the Land, “You will eat and be satisfied, and build fine houses and dwell in them,” but then “your heart will grow haughty, and you will forget Hashem your G-d, Who brought you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage.” So he warns: “If you do forget Hashem your G-d and follow other deities and worship them…” Don’t think it ends with “You will eat and be satisfied, and build fine houses.” From that excessive self-indulgence and materialism, immoral behavior can follow, until one reaches actual idolatry. And that, in turn, leads to “you will surely perish”—to the destruction. We saw this message on Tisha B’Av, too. The destruction was terrible: so many people killed, so many victims, so much suffering from hunger and captivity and the like. You expect to hear what grave sins they committed. Baseless hatred. Kamtza and Bar Kamtza. We see from this how much being a mensch is part of the very essence of Judaism. And when a person does not act like a human being, he may ultimately come to behave like an animal—not only socially, but religiously as well. This should awaken us to look at ourselves morally and socially, and in terms of Ahavas Yisroel. Through love without cause, the Beis Hamikdash will be rebuilt speedily in our days—this very year, on Tisha B’Av and the tenth of Menachem Av, so that we will not need to fast, with Hashem’s help. May they be transformed into days of joy and celebration, together with Moshiach our righteous redeemer.