Shepsel Roberts was one of the few men with smicha in the entire upper midwest, and the only Mohel in several states. For decades, he travelled all over the area and up into Canada as well, performing an estimated 13,000 brisos by the time of his death in 2003, at the age of 89. Rav Shepsel and his wife Tybe were pillars of the Minneapolis Jewish community, in which they invested everything they had. In 1945, they founded the Torah Academy of Minneapolis, one of the first Jewish schools outside New York City; to keep the doors open, they begged and borrowed, even putting the mortgage on the school in their own name. They would go to the cemetery before Yom Tov, offering wealthy yet unaffiliated Jews the opportunity to make a donation to the school in exchange for their prayers. Their efforts met with scorn and derision; they were told they were unpatriotic, old school, anachronistic and destined to fail. Jewish Minneapolis, and the Torah Academy in particular, was their life and passion. But there was something else they loved: the Minnesota Vikings. Tybe in particular loved the Vikings, and still somehow found a way to watch Vikings games even after she went blind later in life. Her deep love of the Vikings was passed down to her many descendants, including her granddaughter, Dallas’s own Rachel Leah Rosenberg. But as much as Tybe loved the Vikings, Jewish education took priority. Family lore has it that in the early years of the Torah Academy (and of the Vikings), they solicited one of the owners of the Vikings, a Jewish man, for a donation. He was exceedingly rude to them, and turned them down unceremoniously. Tybe was so incensed and hurt, that she did something drastic and, for her, extremely painful: she put a curse on her beloved Vikings that they would never win a Super Bowl. This past Sunday, millions of people sat riveted as they watched the amazing game instantly coined by Paul Allen as the “Minneapolis Miracle.” You all know what happened, especially the many of you here who are members of the Who Dat nation, to whom I offer my condolences. There is a video that has gone viral (I’ve watched it at least five times) that shows a suburban living room full of frum people; probably about 10-15 yeshiva boys, some middle aged men, and an older woman seated on the couch wreathed in purple. They are all huddled around a screen, and are watching the last few seconds of the game, when Case Keenum connected with Stefon Diggs on the Saints 33 yard line as he leaped over Marcus Williams, sprinted to the end zone and scored just as the time clock expired. Like millions of other Americans, everyone in the room began going insane, jumping on top of each other, giving each other hugs and screaming. The older woman is Mrs. Debbie Weinberg, the daughter of Shepsel and Tybe Roberts. Most of the other people in the room were related to her, great grandchildren rooting for the team their great grandmother cursed. Type’s great granddaughter Malkie Ozeri told me that some of the family members are seriously considering forming a minyan to go to her kever and ask forgiveness, so as to avoid the crushing defeat the Vikings may be handed by the Eagles tomorrow. The Talmidim at the Yeshiva of Minneapolis have taken upon themselves kabbalos, positive practices like waking up early for minyan, learning some more each day or wearing their tzitzis out for a month, in the hopes of a Viking victory. And they aren’t the only ones. Lehavdil, the communications director of Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in North Minneapolis posted the following sign on their Facebook page, which went instantly viral as well: “If you made any promises during the game’s last ten seconds, Sunday Masses are at 8:30 AM, 11:00 AM and 7:00 PM.” People act in ways that are by turn funny, bizarre, troubling and altogether theologically fascinating when they want something, often making deals with God to bring about a desired outcome. Is this effective? Is it even appropriate? I believe we can find an answer in this morning’s Torah reading.
Pharaoh and the beleagured Egyptians had suffered through seven plagues, yet he remained firm in his resolve not to release the Jewish people from the bonds of slavery. His intransigence was leading to insurrection, as his trusted sorcerers were encouraging him to let the Jews leave. The plague of locusts with which we open decimated Egyptian crops and led to a widespread famine. Based on a close reading of the text, Rabbeinu Bachya asserts that the locusts brought human death and suffering in their wake, and Pharoah was at his wit’s end, so he called the two men who could make it go away.
וַיְמַהֵ֣ר פַּרְעֹ֔ה לִקְרֹ֖א לְמֹשֶׁ֣ה וּֽלְאַהֲרֹ֑ן וַיֹּ֗אמֶר חָטָ֛אתִי לה’ אֱלֹֽקיכֶ֖ם וְלָכֶֽם׃
Pharaoh hurriedly summoned Moses and Aaron and said, “I stand guilty before the LORD your God and before you.
עַתָּ֗ה שָׂ֣א נָ֤א חַטָּאתִי֙ אַ֣ךְ הַפַּ֔עַם וְהַעְתִּ֖ירוּ לַה’ אֱלֹקיכֶ֑ם וְיָסֵר֙ מֵֽעָלַ֔י רַ֖ק אֶת־הַמָּ֥וֶת הַזֶּֽה׃
Forgive my offense just this once, and plead with the LORD your God that He but remove this death from me.”
וַיֵּצֵ֖א מֵעִ֣ם פַּרְעֹ֑ה וַיֶּעְתַּ֖ר אֶל־ה׃
So he left Pharaoh’s presence and pleaded with the LORD
Pharaoh steadfastly refuses to acknowledge God, and then suddenly he asks forgiveness and admits that he had sinned toward God? Pharaoh repeatedly treated Moshe and Aharon with contempt, and suddenly he apologized? This is too little, too late- and it was clear that he was only apologizing because he wanted something. Why did Moshe pray for him at all? He had Pharaoh exactly where he wanted him! And why did he have to leave Pharaoh’s presence in order to pray? And if Pharaoh sincere in his apology, why were there two more plagues? Certainly, it does look fishy that Pharaoh was acting righteously exactly when he desired a certain outcome, but the timing of his change of heart isn’t the issue. After all, if he was sincere and had demonstrated a commitment to lasting change of his own and immediate freedom of the Jews, his repentance would have been accepted and that would have been the end of it- we would speak about seven plagues, not ten. That’s what teshuvah is about, isn’t it? But Moshe knew that Pharaoh was not sincere. It is for this reason, according to the Netziv, that Moshe left Pharaoh’s presence. He knew that if he prayed to God on Pharaoh’s behalf, his prayer would be rejected, yet he didn’t want to seem like a liar by praying overtly and ineffectively. God had already promised Moshe that a catastrophic plague, in which all first borns would be killed, would be visited upon the first borns of Egypt and nothing would prevent that from coming to pass; Pharaoh had to endure the full complement of all ten plagues before his commitment to change was permanent. Until then, he was just saying whatever he thought he had to so the plague would be removed, and he would no doubt renege on his promise, like a gym membership purchased on January 2nd, already in disuse two weeks later.
מ״מ עשה משה בקשת פרעה באשר ידע היטב שאפילו יבטיח אין בזה ממש עד שיכלו סימני המכות.
It is this barometer by which we should judge “deals with God.” Shlomo Halemech, in the book of Kohelet offers important life advice:
כַּאֲשֶׁר֩ תִּדֹּ֨ר נֶ֜דֶר לֵֽאלֹקים אַל־תְּאַחֵר֙ לְשַׁלְּמ֔וֹ כִּ֛י אֵ֥ין חֵ֖פֶץ בַּכְּסִילִ֑ים אֵ֥ת אֲשֶׁר־תִּדֹּ֖ר שַׁלֵּֽם׃
When you make a vow to God, do not delay to fulfill it. For He has no pleasure in fools; what you vow, fulfill.
The Alshich explains that this verse refers to people who who make vows to God and promise charity, or promise to take on certain positive behaviors, when they are in dire straits. Yes, God does not work for us and we are not “forcing his hand” by making these vows. But taking on something extra as a way of connection and self improvement may be a beneficial and healthy way to deal with times of personal distress. That’s what those Yeshiva bochrim were doing, and lehavdil, the Catholics who will show up at the earlier Masses this Sunday. But there are two ways to tell if these kinds of promises are meaningful, writes the Alshich: if we fulfill the vow immediately, even before the desired outcome comes to pass, and if our fulfillment of the vow actually lasts, and does not remain in the realm of good intentions. As the 17th Century British clergyman and historian Thomas Fuller said, “Vows made in storms are forgotten in calms.” If we are only fulfilling our vows temporarily, we are using God as some kind of good luck charm to make miracles happen that we don’t deserve in exchange for promises we make we won’t keep. But if it is lasting, if it is transformative, that kind of “deal” is most appropriate. Last year, I told you about my father’s cousin Dickie from Omaha, who was raised in an unaffiliated yet heavily culturally Jewish home, and about how all three of his daughters became frum and are raising Torah families of their own. For years, Dickie and Ina’s s three daughters maintained their own dishes at their parents’ home, taking all the precautions necessary to adhere to the laws of Kashrus in a home that does not. In the early 1980s, Dickie’s oldest daughter Mindy was studying in a seminary in Yerushalaim, the culmination of years of involvement with NCSY and the intensification of her observance. One day, she was running late, and missed the bus to Bayit Vegan- it was pulling out of the bus stop and she could not board it. A few stops later, a bomb went off on the bus she had missed, and many people were killed or injured. Mindy called her parents- this was when placing a transatlantic call was logistically complicated and prohibitively expensive- and told them, “I’m OK, don’t worry.” Of course, nothing is more guaranteed to cause a Jewish parent to worry than telling them not to worry…
“What do you mean, don’t worry?” Dickie asked. “ Why would I worry? What happened?!”
Mindy explained to her father what had happened and how she was, thank God, perfectly safe. They spoke for a while- as Mindy described it, several hundred dollars worth of conversation. Dickie was less than reassured. He was worried that next time, his daughter might be on the bus, rather than missing it by a few minutes. He turned to the Ribbono Shel Olam and said, “God, if you bring her home safely, I will kasher the kitchen.” Did they start right away at the time of the vow? I don’t think so, but a few months later, Mindy returned home safely- and they’ve kept a scrupulously kosher kitchen ever since.
There will be moments in our lives when we turn to God as a liferaft, and are ready to make changes to connect and help us weather turbulent circumstances. Doing so can be lifechanging, if we take upon ourselves commitments that will last; to let them lapse would be squandering a rare spiritual opportunity. Let us learn the lesson of Pharaoh’s insincerity. If we use impactful moments to spur genuine and lasting change, our lives will be irrevocably improved.
©2018 Rabbi Ariel Rackovsky
shaarerabbi 