Discovering Holiness
in the Ordinary
D’var Torah for
Parashat Ki Teitzei
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
I’ve always claimed that you don’t need stop signs in the
wilderness.
You need them at the busy intersections of vibrant life.
This week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei (Deut. 21:10—25:19) is set in exactly such a busy
juncture, a place where roads cross and intersect, some leading to a good
place, others to a more dismal and dreary one.
There are 74 commandments in this portion, each referring to
a specific situation one might encounter in life. Even though the portion opens with warfare,
most of these rules relate to more ordinary moments, those run-of-the-mill
everyday events that happen all the time.
Some of these we react to automatically, almost instinctively. Yet the portion teaches us to pay closer
attention to them all, to make sure that the ordinary doesn’t turn immoral, but
rather that we elevate the ordinary and, through our choices, make it special,
extra-ordinary, even holy.
A favorite of mine is the law regarding the “Wayward and
Rebellious Son.” In an earlier section
of the Torah (Exodus 21:15, 17), a parent was given permission to just go right
ahead and kill a boy whose behavior is described by these terms. In Ki
Teitzei, however, the parents (both of them now, not only the father) must
instead take him to court. It’s out of
their hands; from that moment on it’s the impartial court, not the overwrought
parent, that has the power to execute or pardon. This may not be an ideal solution to the
eternal problem of slothful teenagers, but it’s still a big lesson in the art
of parenting: Step back from anger, let
those overriding passions cool down before doing something you will later
regret.
Some of the mitzvot of Ki
Teitzei refer not to people but rather the animals you encounter along your
way: the beast of burden that might have gotten lost, or a nesting bird you
find along the path. In each case, you
are commanded to show compassion to the living creature. The beast must be taken in, fed and sheltered—and
then returned to its rightful owner. The
bird must be released—though the eggs are yours to keep.
“You shall not plow your field with an ox and a donkey
together” (Deut. 22:10). Divide the
labor equally and fairly, the Torah gently teaches us.
Over and over, we are commanded to remember the hungry, the
sick, the widow and the orphan. Not to
mention the Levites and the stranger amongst you. For they depend on your support and
generosity. When you reap your crop, be
sure to leave behind gleanings for the needy to harvest. Not as degrading handouts, God forbid, but
rather as morally granted, mandated by God, theirs for the harvesting.
A particular favorite of mine has always been the law
telling you to pay a day laborer at the end of his day and not withhold payment
until morning. He might depend on it for
his evening meal and shelter.
Large or small, the myriad details of life that Ki Teitzei addresses are actually a
reflection of the way things really were in those days. The Torah’s commandments come to stop
mistreatment of people, animals and nature, to right wrongs and to set us instead
on a better path, one based on dignity, respect, compassion and love.
Though written thousands of years ago, the situations Ki Teitzei addresses aren’t that
different from life today.
Then as now, laborers were often cheated of their pay.
Lost animals—at least the kind you could use around the
house—were kept, secreted and not returned.
And the poor? Let
them take care of themselves! “To each
according to his labor and investment” was the prevalent philosophy then, and—but
for somewhat more enlightened social philosophies—would still be the case today.
How sad that reality today isn’t all that much better than
it was so long ago.
Except that it is better—in places where the laws and principles
of Ki Teitzei are applied.
A society isn’t noble by nature. Its basic purpose is primarily to provide food,
safety and shelter to otherwise vulnerable individuals. But a community can be made noble. It can become honorable when the ethics we exercise
in our choices and transactions, in our comings and goings, are also
honorable. When we relate one to another
with care and respect; when we tend to nature not as if it were ours to do with
as we pleased, but rather as its invited guests. When we enjoy, not seize, earth’s
hospitality. When we realize that every human
being is unique, and yet that humanity as a whole is only one species out of
thousands on this planet, each deserving of its place and time. That’s when we realize how truly blessed we
are to be alive.
The commandments of Ki
Teitzei are not merely warning signs in the busy loom of life. To follow them would make life a blessing for
you. To disobey them would turn life
into a dismal wilderness.
And the choice is yours.
© 2013 by Boaz D. Heilman
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