ייִדישער מחשבֿה אויף ישעיהו 11:2

Since man is composed of two parts, the physical and the spiritual, he needs to operate with two kinds of perceptions, one which enables him to recognise the material, the worldly, and the other which helps him recognise and relate to spiritual phenomena or spiritual aspects of other human beings. When we talk about "knowing so and so," we define "so and so" in terms of height, width, colour etc. We perceive that he is human by a different cognitive process, a process reserved for recognising intangible abstract concepts. The former process is called hakkarah, recognition, the latter yediyah, knowledge. When the brothers brought Joseph's blood-drenched coat to their father Jacob, they said "do you recognise if this is the coat of your son?" This is a term applicable only to material things. When G'd talks about Abraham, prior to revealing to him the impending destruction of Sodom, He says "for I know him, in order that he will command etc." This clearly describes cognition of Abraham's personality, something intangible. Since it is not easy to acquire the latter facility, our sages have frequently illustrated abstract concepts by employing parables. The phenomena described in such parables are a sort of crutch to help us translate these concepts into the abstract. The master par excellence of such parables is king Solomon, whose parables acquired international and enduring fame. He employed the double entendre for instance, when he advised the lazy man to learn from the ant which lays in a food supply in advance of the oncoming winter. (Proverbs 6) The hidden message is that man who has been given a brain should use and condition it, so that when the difficult time (winter) arrives, he will be prepared to cope with it, since he is aware of the purpose of difficult periods. The Torah also employs such parables on occasion. When Moses says in Deut 32,46, "pay attention to all the matters which I testify against you this day...for it is not an empty matter... but it is your life," the reference is to the fact that words of admonition are not to be understood only at face value, but they address themselves also to our ability to comprehend spiritual concepts. (see our commentary about G'd talking to Adam in Eden, chapter seven) A similar double entendre is contained in the Torah's legislation about warfare. The Torah legislates about physical warfare, of course; but internal struggles in the soul are being described at the same time. By overcoming internal foes, the soldier readies himself to overcome external foes and to conquer foreign lands. (Internal struggles may also include the fight of the body to overcome a virus it has been invaded by, for instance) A person's face reflects inner struggles, just as warfare between nations is something visible that cannot be concealed. We see this from the comment of Yonadav to Amnon. (Samuel II 13,4.) In order to treat such internal struggles, a doctor needs to be thoroughly familiar with the chemistry of the body, and he needs to be able to compensate for any chemical imbalances in the system of the afflicted patient. The most difficult war however, is the struggle between conflicting emotions or characteristics that goes on within one's personality. When love and jealousy battle with one another, when greed and generosity find themselves in conflict within the same person, this is serious indeed. When Artaxerxes accuses Nechemyah of a face which expresses sadness and anger, pointing out that the latter was not physically unwell, he alludes to the inner struggle that leaves its mark on a person's facial expressions. (Nechemyah 2,3) (compare our commentary chapter sixty seven) In spite of visible symptoms of psychological illness, the doctor who undertakes to cure same requires even more expertise than the one who cures physical ills. Since G'd is the greatest of all doctors, David proclaims: "favour me O Lord, for I am bowed down. Heal me O G'd, for my bones are afflicted; and above all my soul which is very afflicted. (Psalms 6,3-4, et al) Discussion of the verses in our Parshah will be divided into those dealing with physical warfare, and those dealing with inner conflicts. The three main objectives of a general in charge of a military campaign are summed up by Sancheriv. (Kings II chapter 18) They are: 1) words of the lips. 2) counsel. 3) bravery. In other words, a list of objectives, (words) strategic and tactical planning, (counsel) and heroism and bravery in the execution of such plans. Sancheriv accuses Chiskiyahu of breach of trust, and asks "on whom do you rely that you have dared to rebel against me?" This provided the excuse for his attack. He then ridicules any hope Chiskiyahu may be entertaining of making a successful defence, by describing Egypt and any other potential allies as useless. Thirdly, since Chiskiyahu's plans would be doomed to failure anyways, he asks who would display the heroism needed when they knew they were fighting for a lost cause! Whenever the Jewish people mobilise for warfare, the above mentioned three basic rules are observed and are described in our Parshah.

From the above it follows that the most advanced of nations, i.e. Israel, were it to perish G'd forbid, would disintegrate more than any other nation; less would be left of it than of any other more primitive society that ceases to occupy center stage in history. This is so because of the sophisticated nature of the body of the Jewish nation, which by implication implies fragility. When the prophet Ezekiel in chapter fifteen, describes the wood of the vines as utterly useless,- not even fit to be used in building,- he tries to tell us that unless it functions as the bearer of grapes, it is utterly without purpose. Similarly, the Jewish people. Unless the Jewish people fulfils its mission, it is utterly useless in the scheme of nature. The lumber of other trees, even if the tree itself is no longer bearing fruit, can serve builders; not so the wood of the grapevine. Gentiles, whose primary function is not the fruit of the intellect, mind or soul, may remain useful in some other capacity, not so Jews. They would only be good for firewood, serve by the very act of their own destruction. The whole purpose of the Jewish nation, allegorically speaking, is to produce the fruit of the vine. This fruit is available in three distinct qualities. 1) Unripe grapes. 2) grapes. 3) wine. Halachah reflects this view by assigning three different benedictions to the three stages of that fruit when one consumes it. For unripe grapes the benediction is borey pree ha-adamah, He who creates the fruit of the earth. Ripe grapes qualify for the benediction borey pree ha-etz, He who creates the fruit of the tree. Finally, wine qualifies for the benediction borey pree hagafen, He who creates the fruit of the vine. The type of benediction recited, corresponds to the degree of excellence of the product it is recited over. Man's function in the scheme of things is similar to the Jewish nation's function in the scheme of civilization, the scheme of nations. Our function embraces three stages of nature; the inert as represented by stone, the vegetative as represented by plants, and the animalistic, human, as represented by the fruits of various plants. G'd calls a human being "Adam when he fulfils his purpose on all three levels. (compare chapter forty four section one based on Talmud Baba Metzia 114) Justification of one's existence stems from one's having fulfilled one's purpose, one's destiny. When one fails deliberately to fulfil one's purpose, one forfeits one's right to exist. When the vine does not yield fruit, the wood supporting its leaves etc. deserves to be burned. When man does not contribute to yishuv ha-olam, civilization, he loses the right to exist. When Israel fails to make its specific contribution to the betterment of mankind, it loses its raison d'etre. This is what Rabbi Yochanan expressed in the paragraph from the Talmud Ketuvot quoted at the outset of this chapter. In the chapter dealing with the red heifer, we explained that impurity and its relative intensity, exists in direct relationship to the belovedness of the creature in the eyes of G'd. The less beloved, the less capable of becoming impure, the more beloved, the more subject to becoming defiled. Similarly, the higher the expectations that have gone unfulfilled, the more the fragility of the vessel becomes evident, the more total its collapse if and when it occurs. Only its continued proper use keeps it in good condition. The same lesson is conveyed to the prophet Jeremiah in chapter thirteen, about the belt buried near the river Euphratus that had been in disuse for many years, only to disintegrate by the time Jeremiah was to use it again. A belt has four functions which can be viewed as paralleling the tasks of the Jewish people. Garments to man are like character traits, as explained in connection with the special garmens of the High Priest and the priest at large. The belt assures the proper functioning of such garments. Leaving the belt buried somewhere, nullifies the value of the garments it was supposed to complement. The point of the parable is, that even a human being, equipped as he is with all the potential G'd has given him, goes to waste, unless he harnesses his potential in the proper manner. Girding oneself with the ezaur, belt, is like hashem oz hitazor, G'd girded Himself with strength. Man in emulating G'd, does likewise. Possibly, this is why Elijah is portrayed as wearing the belt around his loins when we see him function publicly as a prophet. Basically, linen is a durable material, much more so than wool. It is interesting that while wearing the belt, the prophet is not to wash it, though it undoubtedly would become soiled with perspiration. In the parable then, usage does not contribute to disintegration; on the contrary, careful preservation during disuse causes disintegration. When the Messiah is described in Isaiah 11, the belt appears as the well known symbol. The Messiah will wear a belt of righteousness and loyalty. The generation of Jews who had left Egypt had proven inadequate to their lofty mission. They had demonstrated unwillingness to be mosser nefesh, display acts of supreme dedication for Eretz Yisrael. Only the next generation deserved to inherit the land. Quite possibly, the esteem for Eretz Yisrael expressed by the daughters of Tzelofchod is the key to our understanding why that generation was granted entry, and why the sequence of events related in the Torah is such as it is.

The reader is referred to the original for study of this part of the chapter in which the author deals with many Midrashim on the subject.