Monday, March 10, 2025

Ki Teitzei: Spiritual Lessons from the Battlefield

The Newcomer 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).


Nitzavim: When Serving Hashem is a Struggle

The Mistaken Assistant

A merchant arrived in town from his business trip just as the Sabbath was about to begin. In his haste, he left his packages with the wagon driver, promising to send an assistant to collect them.

"Quick, fetch my bundles from the wagon!" he told young David as soon as he stepped inside.

David, huffing and puffing, lugged the packages to the house, sweat glistening on his brow. "Here they are, I’ve brought your things!" he said, nearly out of breath.

The merchant raised an eyebrow. "Where are my bags?" he asked, puzzled.

"I left everything in the outer room," David replied, still dabbing at his face with his sleeve.

The merchant frowned. "What you’ve brought here isn’t mine. It must belong to someone else."

"Go look in the other room," David insisted. "I’m sure it’s yours."

The merchant shook his head. "No need to look. I can see the sweat and dirt on your face and hear you panting like a dog in a heatwave. My bundles are small and light. There’s no way they could have made you sweat this much."


"This Torah is Very Close to You"

This is exactly what Isaiah told the people: "You have not called upon Me, O Jacob, because you have wearied [in serving] Me, O Israel" (Isaiah 43:22). It’s as if God is saying: If serving Me feels like such a struggle, then perhaps you’re not truly serving Me at all.

Serving God should feel natural and easy. It should be "very close to you, in your mouth and your heart, so that you can do it" (Deut. 20:14)

Torah and mitzvot are not meant to drain us, but to uplift us. If it feels like a burden, then something is out of alignment.

(Adapted from Ohel Ya'akov on the Torah, Nitzavim,10)