“Neither
Right nor Left”
Dr. David Brent
In this parsha, Moshe admonishes the Jewish people not to
deviate either to the right or to the left. But what does
this really mean? A second question: why so many references
to fire? And does an answer to the latter question inform
the former?
The theme of the parsha is about continuity—how the
experience at Sinai and the Exodus from Egypt will be
transmitted to those who did not experience it directly.
The methodology for transmission is to feel as if each
person himself actually participated in this experience.
The present tense address of Devarim is meant to stimulate
this viewpoint, as is the Shema, which is self-talk to
pledge allegiance to G-d and His Torah with one’s
full being, in every aspect of activity.
How, though, is the experience and teaching of Moshe to be
preserved with authenticity? Isn’t that the
challenge—not to deviate to the right or to the left,
and to neither add nor substract, the complementary
warning?
According to the Maharal, left represents material bounty,
and multiplication and right represents spiritual wisdom.
Presumably, although he is not explicit about this, this is
derived from what one sees when facing the Aron. To the
left, the Shulchan, and to the north, the tribes of Dan,
Asher, and Naftali—with abundance of oil and cattle.
To the right, the Menorah, the light of Torah. Rav Hirsch,
z”l, notes that “north” represents the
physical, and “south” the spiritual, and that
the process of sacrifices is to take that which is material
and transform it into something spiritual.
In this context, not to deviate to the right or the left
means to recognize that one cannot exist without the other.
There is no lit Menorah without oil, there is no sacrifice
without cattle, and there is no Torah without flour.
Similarly, there is no purpose to oil without Menorah, no
point to accumulating cattle without a Mizbeach, and no
point to pursuing material success without Torah.
To deviate to either the right or the left is to cripple
our ability to transmit the Torah faithfully to our
children. We can see this in the first and last mitzvoth in
the Torah: first, be fruitful and multiply. Last, each
person is to write his own Sefer Torah. Thus, the purpose
of being fruitful and multiplying is to produce spiritual
descendants who will be yoked to Torah. Conversely, of what
good is Torah if one doesn’t transmit it? The purpose
of Torah is in part to teach it to our children, because
this is how it comes alive—not just for our children,
but for us as well.
But if each of us is to write our own Sefer Torah,
doesn’t that imply putting our own personal stamp on
Torah? And if so, doesn’t that mean the potential for
alternation? I believe the Torah is telling us to find a
balance between right and left, between spiritual and
material. The process of achieving the balance, will look
different in different generations, and based on the needs
of each person. In fact, it will not be possible to teach
Torah to your children if you do not recognize their
individuality and need for achieving an equilibrium between
right and left. This perhaps is why the word
l’vavkhah has two bet’s,
not just because it is a balance between the yetzer hara
and yetzer tov, but also because each person needs to find
a balance between right and left that helps keep him or her
on a true Torah path. Shennantam
is translated as
“taught,” but it means literally to
sharpen—I would suggest to “shape” and to
“focus.” One will do so differently depending
on the needs of the child and the abilities of the teacher.
What we are able to bring from the “right” will
differ greatly—and the Torah accounts for that in the
different levels of sacrifices in terms of expense, all of
which have the same spiritual meaning to Hashem. With
regard to spiritual wisdom, we know this is multilayered
and evolving thing—that is apprehended only in
partnership with another person—each of whom puts
their own individual stamp on the Torah that they learn
together.
So how does one keep the transmission going? I believe this
is where the fire comes in. G-d, and Moshe as commanded by
G-d is emphasizing the fire at Chorev as such a memorable
event that it should be “burned” into our
consciousness, and that is something we must transmit. We
are forged as a people in fire, we sacrifice using fire,
and we need to channel our passion, our fire towards our
spiritual quest. It cannot be a rational, dispassionate
search but must be filled with passion and connected to a
sense of emotion. It should be a fire of love, as we say in
the Shema, and we should inspire our children with a fiery
love for Torah.
Fire, though can also burn, can lead to passionate and
imbalance, sexual immorality, and idolatry. Thus, fire has
to be channeled; it must be in the center, at the Mizbeach,
neither right nor left.
David Brent, MD. is Professor of Psychiatry at Western
Pennsylvania Psychiatric Institute, Pittsburgh, PA
