Ki Tavo: The Doctor and the Smelly Herbs

The Doctor’s Foul Play

The father, a man of great concern and, at times, mild hysteria, rushed to call the best doctor in town. His young son, pale and miserable, lay in bed clutching his stomach, groaning. Stomach cramps. Dizziness. Other symptoms one prefers not to discuss in polite company.

The doctor examined the child with due seriousness, then began jotting down a long list of medicinal herbs.

The father, watching this unfold, cleared his throat. "You do understand, doctor, that little Johnny has a delicate constitution. The boy can’t tolerate anything harsh."

The doctor did not look up. He simply muttered, "Hmm," and continued writing.

The father, trying to sneak a glance, felt his pulse quicken as the list grew longer. He gulped. "Er—what exactly is Symplocarpus foetidus?"

"Ah," said the doctor, finally looking up. "That’s Skunk Cabbage. Grows in wetlands. Smells like something that’s been dead a week and wishes it were buried."

The father turned a little green. "And this one? Rafflesia arnoldii?"

"Ah, the Stinking Corpse Lily—excellent for inducing emesis." The doctor beamed, as though he had just discovered penicillin. "It emits a rich, full-bodied aroma of decaying flesh."

The father wiped his forehead. "And Valeriana officinalis?"

"Ah, Valerian Root," said the doctor with a dreamy sigh. "Marvelous stuff. Smells exactly like a sock that’s been through a hard day's work in August."

The father slapped the list down. "Doctor, I beg you—this is too much! The boy is fragile!"

The doctor leaned in, suddenly solemn. "I didn’t want to alarm you," he said gravely, "but your son’s condition could become very serious. We must act at once." He handed the list back with finality. "Go to the apothecary. I'll prepare the treatment."

And so, within the hour, Johnny’s bedroom smelled worse than a fish market in July. The doctor chopped, crushed, and boiled, filling the air with noxious fumes, while the father hovered in horror.

Johnny, for his part, turned green, then yellow, then very swiftly emptied the entire contents of his stomach. Violently. Repeatedly.

The doctor, quite satisfied, wiped his hands and began packing up. He tossed the herbs into the trash with the nonchalance of a man who had never intended to use them in the first place.

"You know," he said, with the air of a man bestowing a final pearl of wisdom, "I never actually planned on giving him any of this stuff. I figured just the smell would do the job."

He tipped his hat and strolled to the door. "Besides," he added cheerfully, "if I’d really intended Johnny to eat it, one plant would’ve been enough."

The Torah's Admonitions

The same is true for the long list of punishments the Torah warns of if the Jewish people abandon God’s commandments. Like the good doctor, God never intended to administer them all. A few would suffice, if necessary.

But the real goal is that we shouldn’t need any at all. Just hearing them should be enough to make us change course—to purge what’s harmful, to correct our ways, to choose the healthier path.

After all, sometimes the mere smell of trouble is enough to set a person straight. If they have any sense, that is.

(Adapted from Mishlei Yaakov 372).

Ki Teitzei: Spiritual Lessons from the Battlefield

Jonah and the Town Assembly

Eliezer, freshly arrived in a town where he knew no one, had a singular priority: to stay out of trouble. He was far from home, with no family or friends to fall back on, and in this unfamiliar place, that made all the difference. He kept his distance from the powerful and wealthy, mindful not to step on any toes that could crush him under their weight. 

But as for the common folk—the everyday townspeople and the poor, especially—well, they couldn’t really hurt him, could they? So Eliezer wasn’t shy about being a little less careful in his dealings with them. After all, they had no influence, no power. Or so he thought.

Then one day, a neighbor—one of those "common folk" Eliezer had been so dismissive of—got into a heated argument with him. The neighbor, not one to back down easily, demanded that the whole town weigh in on who was right. An assembly was called, and suddenly, Eliezer found himself in the middle of a full-blown town trial.

Can you imagine the scene? Eliezer, who had previously ignored the poor and acted as though they were invisible, now found himself scrambling to switch gears. The stakes had shifted. So, in an instant, he began treating everyone with the utmost respect. A polite nod here, a friendly word there. The wealthy? Still important, of course. But now the poor? They were powerful too. They had a vote, and they could sway the outcome of his case.

Times of Judgement

This is exactly what the Torah warns us about: "When a camp goes out against your enemies, you shall beware of everything evil" (Deut. 23:10).

War, the Torah reminds us, is not like peace. In times of peace, we can afford to take a step back, to evaluate, and to weigh the gravity of our mistakes. Some missteps are large, demanding immediate action; others are minor, small enough to let pass without too much worry. In the calm of daily life, there’s room to sort things out, to put mistakes into perspective.

But in times of war, the rules change. Every mistake, no matter how small, carries weight. The Torah urges us to be vigilant, to “beware of everything evil.” This is a call to heightened awareness. When danger looms, we cannot afford to ignore even the smallest fault. Every detail matters.

When we stand before God during the High Holidays, we too find ourselves in a kind of spiritual "war." It’s not a battle against external enemies, but against internal ones: bad habits, weaknesses, and shortcomings. Just as Eliezer realized that he needed to treat even the humblest townspeople with respect—because each had the power to determine his fate—we must recognize that every small misstep in our lives has consequences. We must treat our actions and mistakes with care, because, in the end, it is the sum of those small moments that will shape our judgment.

During these days of teshuvah, we should be mindful of "everything evil." Every effort to correct our wrongs and improve ourselves has the power to shift our course and make us worthy of the new year ahead.

(Adapted from Ohel Yaakov, Ki Tzetzei 11).