By Rabbi Nisan Andrews
(Calgary) – As a congregational rabbi, I tend to stick close to home and shul. I focus on attending community events and meetings, speaking engagements, visiting patients at the hospital or their homes, meeting congregants at coffee shops (or anywhere else they choose), answering questions, kashering homes, and preparing and delivering classes. In essence, I don’t usually do touristy things and primarily concentrate on my role as a Jewish leader.
When my shul in London found out about this, they conspired against me and arranged for synagogue group tours, with me as the guide, to places like Tower Bridge, the Parliament, the Holocaust Museum in Nottingham, and even Buckingham Palace. I always made sure to research these locations so that I could provide “insightful” commentary as we explored the historic city. Our trip to the Queen’s residence (when she was the reigning monarch) also included a viewing of the changing of the guards.
I dutifully attended. The music began, and about fifty beautifully trained horses marched out from the Queen’s residence in perfect formation. A different set of beautiful horses and riders marched into the palace’s gateway a minute or so later. The guard had changed.
Just a few weeks ago, we read a portion from the Torah that states this kind of display should never happen at the palace of the Jewish King in Jerusalem. The Torah prohibits the King of Israel from acquiring horses for anything other than practical uses. Such a lavish display goes against the values of the Torah.
To be sure, several obligations are placed on a Jewish king that reflects a different set of values. For instance, the Torah mandates that the King must carry a Torah scroll with him wherever he goes, whenever he enters or exits the gates of his palace, when he meets with his ministers and officers, as he walks the battlefield, and even as he strolls in the marketplace. The King of Israel should always have his Torah scroll close to his heart.
The obligations concerning Torah scrolls do not end with just one. In addition to the Torah scroll that the King must carry with him, he also must write a second Sefer Torah to be kept locked up in the palace. This second Torah Scroll never leaves the palace nor is carried on the King’s rounds among his people. This raises the question: Why did the King need this additional scroll if it was never to be seen or used?
The commentators explain that the elements took their toll as the King walked and carried his Torah through the marketplace or battlefield. Gradually, letters would fade, crack, or even flake off. The process was so slow that the King may not even realize that the one he carries is no longer the same as the original. Thus, the King doesn’t rely on that scroll alone but keeps a mint copy of his Torah in the treasury. This treasury scroll remained sharp and flawless due to its protection from the wind, war, and the corrosive elements of life.
Periodically, the King would bring his copy of the Torah into his private chambers, place both copies side by side on the table, open them, compare them, and make any necessary corrections. It was essential that the Torah remain pristine as it served as the standard, and maintaining that standard was of the utmost importance.
Many of us pause to reflect before embarking on significant life milestones such as marriage, starting a new career, or becoming a parent. We often dream about the type of home we want to create with our partner, the kind of parents we aspire to be, and how we can infuse our work with purpose and meaning.
Then reality sets in. The demands of the moment often cloud our view of the bigger picture. The nitty-gritty of life takes over. We find ourselves asking, “Where did I go wrong? What happened?”
We start out like the King of Israel. We have our own very pristine Sifrei Torah. We fashion our lives according to our ideals, unbiased and untainted by the winds and wars of life. As life goes on, we carry our principles and standards with us. But, on this journey, the letters begin to fade, crack, and even fall apart. The elements of life take their toll.
Similar to the King, we should also have a Torah scroll in the treasury of our hearts. The Torah teaches us that, just as the King does, we should occasionally compare what we were to what we are and correct our trajectory. This is the essence of Teshuvah.
Life is full of challenges and obstacles, and we cannot always adhere strictly to a set of rules. As a result, the high standards we set for ourselves can start to fade. The month of Elul provides us with the opportunity to delve into our inner selves and rediscover the clarity with which we began.
Rabbi Nisan Andrews is the spiritual leader at House of Jacob Mikveh Israel, the Jewish Orthodox Congregation in Calgary.
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