By Rabbi Yona Reiss

The Gemara (Eruvin 54b) quotes various Amoraim who derive from different Biblical verses that one should devise simanim–pneumonic devices—to help him absorb and retain the Torah he has learned. In support of this advice, the Gemara quotes Rebbi Avdimi’s interpretation of "Lo Bashamayim Hi" (Devarim 30:12). Rebbi Avdimi understands that according to this verse, were the Torah in fact in the Heavens, we would be obligated to ascend to the shamayim to learn it. Rashi (Eruvin 55a) explains that Rebbi Avdimi’s teaching demonstrates that we must exert ourselves and devise creative methods to preserve the Torah that we learn.

The Gemara, as understood by Rashi, requires further elucidation. While Lo Bashamayim Hi does theoretically obligate us to expend extraordinary efforts to retrieve the Torah, the succeeding verses attest that the Torah is, in fact, not so distant, but is rather "B’ficha U’vilvavcha La’asoso," very much within our grasp. Why, then, do we find it necessary to labor so mightily to retain the Torah we have learned? Doesn’t such toil indicate that the Torah really is ‘bashamayim’ or ‘me’ever la’yam’ after all, far away from our grasp and comprehension?

The answer to this question emerges from a closer reading of Rashi’s words. There is a real concern that a student will be so overwhelmed by the vastness and grandeur of Torah that he may despair from ever retaining the information he absorbs. He may insist that no matter how much he studies and toils, he will never preserve in his mortal mind all of the myriad details and intricacies inherent in Torah study.

The Torah responds to this fear by proclaiming "Lo Bashamayim Hi." While the acquisition of Torah is indeed a monumental and difficult task, it is nonetheless not beyond our reach. Hashem has given us the mental capacity and the human resourcefulness to organize, assemble, and remember the words of Torah we have learned. Torah will not seep into our veins without sincere effort on our part, but Hashem has created us with the wherewithal to make it possible. "B’ficha U’vilvavcha La’asoso" – the potential exists within our lips and our hearts, in the fabric of our being, to devise translations, charts, lists and other aids to facilitate our retention of Torah.

Thus, Rashi writes that included within the message of Lo Bashamayim Hi is the imperative leha’arim b’tachbulos, to cleverly devise gimmicks to absorb the teachings of the Torah. In recent years, we have witnessed the proliferation of many seforim which facilitate our ability to fathom the intricate details of both the Torah Shebichsav and the Torah Sheb’al Peh (both of which are alluded to by the verse "B’ficha U’vilvavcha La’asoso," as Rashi notes in his commentary to the Torah). These seforim, cassettes, and computer programs feature everything from shiurim to diagrams to English translations. Some argue that such innovations make the study of Torah "too easy" and detract from the toil and hard work integral to Torah learning. However, as the Gemara interprets the message of Lo Bashamayim Hi, Parshas Nitzavim appears to encourage the employment of such tools that enable us to better understand and remember the Torah. In fact, we can derive from Rashi’s commentary to the Gemara that it is even incumbent upon us to search for, contrive, and employ such devices in our study of Torah. The very act of employing these designs is part of the amal and yegi’ah associated with limud haTorah, and it is precisely these endeavors which the Torah ensures lie within our grasp.

By Ari Segal

In this week’s Torah reading, we find Moshe, during the final moments of his life, standing before Bnei Yisrael. We can only imagine the joy that Moshe Rabbeinu feels, looking out at the nation he has helped create. Yet he realizes that the end is near, as Hashem has told him that he will not enter the Land of Israel. He knows that the time has come for Yehoshua to take over. What is he thinking at this moment? What does he see in store for Bnei Yisrael? What does he want to tell the Jewish nation before he leaves them?

The pasuk says, "Um’tzauhu ra’os rabos v’tzaros"—"Many evils and distress will come upon them" (Devarim 31:17). The Torah tells us that the Jewish nation will be oppressed and troubled throughout its history. And indeed, those familiar with Jewish history recognize the accuracy of this prediction. From the horrors of the Middle Ages to the expulsions, the oppression, the pogroms, the Holocaust, tragedy has followed the Jew everywhere. As Moshe is about to leave the Jewish nation, as he bids them farewell, what advice can he possibly offer to help sustain them through this suffering?

Perhaps the answer lies in the first pasuk of Parshas Nitzavim: "Atem nitzavim"—"You are standing" (29:9). The Yalkut Shimeoni expounds on this pasuk: "When do you stand? When all of you stand together. And experience proves it. Let a man take a bundle of sticks and try to break them, he will try in vain. Undo the bundle, and each stick, taken individually, can be broken by even a child. So, too, you will find that Israel will not be redeemed until they become closely united and become one unified whole."

The Yalkut Shimeoni teaches two fundamental ideas. First, as Moshe tells the Jewish people, their strength lies in national unity. As we weather the numerous calamities of our history, we must stay together. This will ensure our survival. The second idea is quite distressing in light of the unfortunate yet ever-present sinas chinam (baseless hatred) in the Jewish community. We are told that in order for our troubles to end and the eventual redemption to come about, we will have to make peace with all our fellow Jews; the midrash makes no stipulation limiting this peace to those who share our own ideological views.

In anticipation of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we would be well advised to take Moshe Rabbeinu’s final message to heart. As we come before Hakadosh Baruch Hu to ask for forgiveness, we should come as nitzavim kulanu lifnei Hashem Elokeinu.

By Yossi Nissenfeld

Wrapped up in intensive preparations for the imminent Yomim Noraim, we naturally find ourselves focusing on the mitzvah of teshuva and the accompanying Parshiyos HaTeshuva found in each weekly sedrah. Consequently, even a cursory attempt to analyze the mitzvah of Hakhel, the penultimate mitzvah of the taryag mitzvos (as counted by the Chinuch), is often relegated to another occasion.

Many commentators, however, traditionally attach great significance to this monumental event. The Chinuch suggests that the gathering of Hakhel represented an opportunity for Bnei Yisrael to reassert the priorities of Yahadus. When the king read from selected parts of the Torah before (practically) the entire Klal Yisrael, he reconfirmed the importance and centrality of Torah in the Jewish experience.

Others develop this idea a step further. Rav Mordechai Yosef, in the classic sefer Mei HaShiloach, points out that the mitzvah of Hakhel occurred only once every seven (or, after yovel, eight) years, on the first Sukkos of the nascent sh’mita cycle. The juxtaposition of the mitzvah of Hakhel to the conclusion of the sh’mita year is significant. The sh’mita year, with its strict prohibitions against working the land, became for Bnei Yisrael a year of reflection and meditation. The Meshech Chochma explains that the Torah implemented these prohibitive measures in order to provide Bnei Yisrael with the valuable time that often evades us as we deal with the interminable responsibilities and obligations of earning a parnasah. Sh’mita provided time to focus on personal spiritual growth and to better appreciate our relationship with HK"BH. For a full year, Bnei Yisrael refrained from all industrial initiative and left their fields in the hands of Hashem. Throughout this very intense experience, every single Jew could clearly see that G-d, not man, calls the shots.

But this wasn’t enough. A year of learning is nice, but if one manages to escape from the experience untouched and unchanged, then it has not achieved its purpose. If Bnei Yisrael would have simply put aside the seforim, wrapped up the sh’mita shiurim and returned to the fields with exactly the same attitudes and perspectives as before, then the closing sh’mita year would be only slightly more meaningful than a vacation in Disneyland. Hakhel occurred just as Bnei Yisrael prepared once again to divert their attention to more mundane pursuits. It thus served to concretize the sh’mita experience, to solidify the lessons of the previous year and, subsequently, to allow the people to carry into the fields the enhanced perspectives they had nurtured.