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Ki Teitzei is actually one of our favorite parshiyot, why? It is full of mitzvot! More than 12% of the 613 mitzvot command us to obey. But the opening of Ki Teitzei may seem completely irrelevant to our daily existence. That opening reads...
“Ki tetzei lamilcham al oiyecha, unesana Hashem Elokecha beyadecha veshavisa sivyo.” “When you take the field against your enemies, and the Lord your God delivers them into your power, and you take some of them captive. . . “ And the rest of the Aliyah goes on to describe the rules for taking a beautiful woman captive and whether you can marry her and how long you have to wait if you DO want to marry her. Now I don’t think anyone here is worried about taking women captive in wartime. So, we may be inclined to dismiss this passage as part of another era, as something that is no longer—and happily no longer—relevant to our lives. Or—as I think Mary Belgard suggested a couple of years ago, this passage is truly ICKY. Ironically, some argue that this passage shows that Judaism, in our long-ago past, was concerned with treating women with respect. But many of us might think that that’s stretching it. So, we are left thinking that the passage is either embarrassing OR irrelevant. BUT let me try to convince you that there might be another alternative. To do so, I want to take a little poetic license with one of the Hebrew words in the opening of the passage—the word is VESHAVISA. The root of that word is SH’V’H—to take captive, and that gives the pasuk—the verse—its literal sense. But—and here’s the poetic license—doesn’t that root also look like something else? That something else is SH’U’V—to RETURN. Another possible translation might be to “take back.” So, let’s think about that in the context of the month of Elul. We are getting ever closer to the High Holy Days, and we know that those days are a period of time when we look inward, when we ask ourselves what we could have done differently, whom we have hurt, and how we can be better people in the year ahead. What keeps us from being the best people that we can be? I think we all know the answer to that question. It is the YETZER HARA—the evil voice inside of each of us that is always tempting us to go astray, to take the path of least resistance, to cheat on our goals. That yetzer hara is constantly trying to take the US captive, to hold us in its spell. But if we think about this passage in Ki Tetzei, we might imagine a kind of war between good and evil in each one of us. Who will win that war? Can we “recapture” our goodness, can we wrest that righteousness from the dark forces of self-destruction that lie within each one of us? The forces of evil are clever and powerful. They can hold us “CAPTIVE,” SHIVYO. They can even appear, superficially, to be beautiful. Otherwise, why would we be tempted? But we can’t be fooled by surface appearances. Beauty fades, and sin is never as satisfying as we imagine that it will be. So, let’s think about this concept as we approach the holidays. Let’s use Shabbat as a time for heightened awareness and as preparation for the awesome days to come. Let’s remember that beauty--THE SURFACE—fades over time. But INTEGRITY—what lies BELOW the surface—cannot be muted by time or place. You can enhance your coming Shabbat by attending this Friday evening and being part of the shul community, as well as on Shabbat morning.
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There are so many troubling parts of the Torah, and we struggle to interpret them.
The laws about owning slaves, for example, are hard to grapple with, even if they were probably pretty progressive for their time. In addition, many of the Torah’s preaching about women might give us pause (to say the least). And should we really stone the disobedient child? Do we genuinely believe that idolaters should not be allowed to live? I have no doubt that we could provide many more such examples. These concepts and principles force us to interpret the Torah through a modern lens. And rabbis over the centuries have struggled to do that as well. And, God willing, centuries of future Jews will face the same intellectual and spiritual challenge. But this week’s Parsha has a very modern feel to it. Much of Shoftim is devoted to JUSTICE. Justice Justice shall you pursue The very repetition of the word makes clear how important a concept it is. And Shoftim gives us clear guidelines not only for how kings should be appointed over a people but also about limitations on the king’s behavior. These are VERY radical ideas. It wasn’t that long ago that many scholars and politicians defended what has been called the DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS. That idea meant that the King was the direct descendent of God, and that God had actually APPOINTED the king. What would that mean? Well, it would mean that to question a king is literally to question GOD. It would also mean that the king had absolute authority over his people—in other words, there were no limits to what a king could do. And, finally, the idea of the divine right of kings meant that the successor to the throne was based on one’s ancestry. Any idiot son could (and DID!) lay claim to the throne. And that was not at all unusual. It was only in the 1600s and 1700s that real opposition to this idea became forceful. Think about THAT—only three or four hundred years ago radical thinkers challenged the idea that God appoints kings. But the Torah has something to say about that LONG before the 1600s. In Parshat Shoftim, there are definite limits on a king’s power. First, one’s king has to be a “kinsman,” not a foreigner. A king, we are told, should not keep too many horses or have too many wives. In other words, kings should not be distracted by wealth or romance. As the Torah tells us, “He shall not have many wives, lest his heart go astray; nor shall he amass silver and gold to excess.” Even our own rulers (think about Shlomo) didn’t always follow those principles. And perhaps the most radical idea of all is that Shoftim tells us that the king should always keep a copy of the Torah by his side. “Let it remain with him and let him read it all his life.” What a powerful idea—this passage is instructing the king on how to rule. This passage is telling the king (and all of us) that rule cannot be arbitrary, that rule must be based on teaching, on scripture, on the Torah. So that we know that there is always something higher than the king. The Torah and God limit what the king can and cannot do; and that’s a very radical idea, not only for the time when it was written but even for today. In this week’s parsha, we read the laws of kashrut, of how to make our food, especially meat, kosher, and also which animals we are permitted to eat. We learn that we ARE allowed to eat giraffes, but we are not allowed to eat STORK, just as two examples. At times, we get reasons for why or why not; in other cases, I think we know that we are dealing with a CHOK, or a rule that we follow BECAUSE it is a rule. A rule that we follow because God ordains it, and for no other reason. There’s a passage I want to pull out, something that seems pretty straightforward; and sometimes when something seems straightforward, we can gloss over it. So let’s focus on it for a moment. Here’s the passage:
When the Lord, your God, expands your boundary, as He has spoken to you, and you say, "I will eat meat," because your soul desires to eat meat, you may eat meat, according to every desire of your soul. ככִּֽי־יַרְחִיב֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהֶ֥יךָ אֶת־גְּבֻֽלְךָ֘ כַּֽאֲשֶׁ֣ר דִּבֶּר־לָךְ֒ וְאָֽמַרְתָּ֙ אֹֽכְלָ֣ה בָשָׂ֔ר כִּֽי־תְאַוֶּ֥ה נַפְשְׁךָ֖ לֶֽאֱכֹ֣ל בָּשָׂ֑ר בְּכָל־אַוַּ֥ת נַפְשְׁךָ֖ תֹּאכַ֥ל בָּשָֽׂר: When the Lord your God “expands your boundaries.” According to Rashi, the interpreter who almost always prefers the simplest possible explanation, this passage means that the Israelites were allowed to eat meat once they entered the Promised Land. And he infers from that, that they were NOT allowed to eat meat in the desert unless it was part of a ritual sacrifice. After all, let’s not forget that they had manna that kept them alive and provided sustenance for 40 years. Rashi takes this passage to mean that, once in Eretz Israel, the people would DESIRE meat AND they were allowed to fulfill that desire. Rabbi Akiva disagrees. Akiva maintains that the Israelites were allowed to eat non-kosher meat in the desert, so as not to offend the other tribes they encountered in their travels. I don’t know where in the Torah he gets that idea, because I myself don’t know of any passage that suggests that. But we do know that our sages loved a good debate, even across the centuries. So, for Akiva, the passage is telling us that once we enter the Promised Land, there will be no more permission to eat anything other than kosher meat. To me, it’s the phrase “expand your boundaries” that’s really fascinating. Some scholars interpret the phrase to mean that the Israelites will secure property, and that new property will literally expand their boundaries. Others argue that the passage ‘expand your boundaries’ refers to the movement INTO the Holy Land. Rashi CONNECTS the idea of expanding your boundaries with the idea of eating meat—for Rashi, the only justification for eating meat is that you have wealth, you have abundance. That makes some sense, for I am guessing that meat wasn’t easy to come by, especially if the best selections were saved for ritual sacrifice. It’s also ironic, because I know that many animal rights activists argue that we do not NEED to eat meat to survive. The Torah seems to be recognizing that fact but still to give us permission to eat meat as long as it’s the right kind of animal slaughtered and cooked in the right kind of way. That’s a debate for another time. But “expand your boundaries” may also be a metaphor for the new life that the Israelites will now have to take on. No more manna. No more miracles. And, perhaps most importantly, no more Moshe. They MUST expand their boundaries. Basically, they must GROW UP. They are now responsible for themselves and for all the spiritual and mundane aspects of their new lives. —and what they eat is now no longer automatically provided to them but is rather part of the new set of instructions that God and their rebbe Moshe provide for them. God tested Bnei Yisrael in the desert. The tests went both ways.
The entire sojourn in the wilderness could be understood in this fashion. It is not only that they were being punished for the sin of the spies; it was also that by being under Hashem’s protection in every physical way they learned to trust Hashem. On the eve of their entry into the Promised Land, Moshe understood that the conditions under which this new generation was raised would change drastically, and unfortunately the people would fail the future tests. Moshe knew this and spoke about it in today’s Parsha and throughout the entire book of Devarim. The Torah gives us the list of the seven fruits with which Eretz Yisrael is blessed (8:8) “a land of wheat and barley… a land of olives that produce oil, and honey.” It is interesting to note that the Torah says that olive oil is one of the blessed fruits of Eretz Yisrael. Why not state that it is the olive? Why mention olive oil? The Talmud states that as a result of this verse, we would conclude that olives are not to be considered as beneficial to the human being as olive oil is. The Talmud even suggests that eating olives is detrimental to one’s memory, possibly when they are accompanied by a martini! When praising the land of Israel, the Torah used the most useful forms of the produce of the land. It is of note that for many years Israel was an exporter of olives. This was true in the Roman period 2,000 year ago. Rome was actually importing olives from Israel and they could be found sold in the marketplaces in Rome. This is bizarre considering that Italy is a major producer of olive oil in the modern period. But in ancient times this was obviously not so. As it turned out, this was not always a major blessing as it was economically. Because of the trade agreement the Romans had, ships were coming to Israel for economic trade as in olive oil and olives, and became knowledgeable of the geography and topography of the land of Israel, which proved helpful when the Romans invaded and conquered the land in the 1st century C.E. Let's examine the Torah Reading...
In the beginning of the Parsha, Moshe prays to Hashem to repeal God’s decree that Moshe not be able to enter the Promised Land. Moshe actually makes two requests at this time.
Nevertheless there is no guarantee that Hashem will grant us our request, just as he does not fully grant Moshe’s. The power of prayer is often spoken about in order to motivate us to enter into a true dialogue with the Almighty. Prayer is important and represents a major ingredient in our relationship with Hashem. Just the fact that Hashem would listen to our request is valuable and elevates us to enormous status. It is a true act of Divine chesed to even be granted an audience with the King. Moshe is considered by many as the first king of Israel. If he were granted his request to enter Israel, what would be his status? It is very difficult for a king, especially one of Moshe’s stature, to enter into another career in retirement. He never made the request to remain as the leader of the nation and consequently we cannot envision a Moshe in retirement. (We currently have several retired presidents of the United States. Several of them have acted as unofficial ambassadors for the country, as in the case of former President Bush and President Clinton. Another one published his real views and devalued his own prestige as in the case of President Carter. Very few presidents ever retired and went into an illustrious career in retirement. One name that comes to mind is John Quincy Adams who was not a popular president. After his defeat for reelection he went on to spend over 17 years as a member of the House of Representatives, representing his home district (Plymouth) in Massachusetts. He was an eloquent speaker on behalf of many causes, especially anti-slavery.) What would Moshe Rabbeinu retire to? As Yehoshua would become the next king of Israel, perhaps Moshe Rabbeinu would become the head of the Sanhedrin, or the Rosh Yeshiva par excellence. The Ten Commandments are repeated in this week’s reading. One of the distinctions between the previous reading and today’s is the verb used for the mitzvah of Shabbat. The difference between Zachor and Shamor, between Remembering Shabbat and Guarding Shabbat, is the distinction between the positive and negative commandments intertwined in Shabbat. Many people are quite particular in observing Shabbat properly and not transgressing any of the prohibitions of Shabbat, which are quite numerous. The greater challenge of Shabbat is not only observing the prohibitions, but how do we create the spiritual positive energy that Shabbat is supposed to engender? The positive commandments of Shabbat also need to be emphasized in the same fashion. Singing Zemirot and creating the special atmosphere of the Shabbat banquet certainly promotes this idea of the positive energy of Shabbat. We truly must go beyond that. During these summer months when the Shabbat afternoon is lengthy, how are we observing Shabbat during those hours? Do we feel energized spiritually in order to create the positive atmosphere of Shabbat? The magic of Shabbat is even greater in the off hours of the day. Try it and see what I mean. Haftorat VaEtchanan: This is the first of seven Haftorot of Consolation leading up to the Yomim Noraim. "Comfort ye, comfort ye My people saith your God" (Isaiah 40). The Midrash (Yalkut Shemoni) in this verse proclaims: "May it be a comfort for those above and for those below, for the living and for the dead, for this world and the world to come." This Midrash seems to be conveying an important message. Unless comforting or consolation is total, there is no real comfort at all. To comfort an individual or a people half-heartedly is no consolation. In fact, the Midrash elsewhere states that when Yeshayahu first mouthed the words "Nachamu, Nachamu," the Jews wanted to kill him. It is only when he completed his message with "says your God" that they were assuaged. The Jews at the time were so distraught and in such despair that nothing short of a direct message of comfort from Hashem would do. Anything less would ring empty of meaning and speak poorly of the messenger. When we as individuals are put to the challenge of having to offer comfort such as on the occasion of comforting mourners, we must be aware of the same hazards of offering incomplete Nechamah. In essence, saying "the right thing" at the right time is an art. May we all rise to the level of artists when called upon to soothe another human being. We understand that many colleges and universities give retiring faculty a chance to present their “last lecture” as part of their retirement year. Well, in today’s parsha, that’s what we’ve got—Moshe is giving his last lecture. He is 36 days away, not from retirement, but from death. He is so worried about the future of the Israelites—if miracles didn’t keep us faithful, how can we be expected to follow God’s commandments when the miracles are no longer a part of our daily lives?
So, Moses—who we remember told God that he was “slow of speech and slow of tongue”—has a lot to say. Virtually the entire Book of Deuteronomy is his farewell discourse to the people he has tried so hard to lead. The book actually has two common names, one derived from Hebrew and the other from Greek. The Hebrew: Sefer D'varim, refers to its first words: Eileh ha-d'varim, "These are the words [that Moses addressed to all Israel]." The Greek: The translation for Mishnah Torah, Deuteronomium means "second law" and refers to the fact that Moses is repeating the Exodus/Numbers narrative. But we know that that is not quite the case. Moses doesn’t simply restate the Exodus narrative—he takes some liberties with this second telling, perhaps for good reasons. For example
Nachmanides (Ramban) euphemistically remarked that Moses' rendition of this twice-told tale was designed l'hosif bahen bi'ur, "to add clarity and explanation," and to make sure that the entirety of the generation that would enter the Land heard it—just as the entirety of the Exodus generation experienced Sinai. We don’t know whether the Moses we see here is deliberately simplifying and changing some details, or whether this is truly how he remembers these events. We all know how fragile and tricky human memory can be. Sometimes we forget. And sometimes memories morph into something else. And sometimes we adjust our memories—without even realizing it—to fit what we need them to be. This may well be Moses' emotional need as he nears the end of his life. The Moses of this parsha is aged and tired and worried. In HIS last lecture, the fate of the Jewish people is at stake, and he knows it. In this week’s parsha, we, B’Nai Yisrael, continue to steadily approach the Promised Land. And we begin with a long set of instructions from Moshe about vows and their importance. We then move to a war of vengeance against the Midianites—and notice that the Parsha mentions our friend Balaam as the reason to show no mercy to one’s enemies. And there is yet another census—of the spoils of war, of what our chumash translates as “booty.”
There is so much going on in Mattot that we might miss an exchange between Moshe and two of his tribal leaders, Gan and Reuben. Believe it or not, after all that the Israelites have been through to get to Eretz Israel, Gad and Reuben come to Moshe to request that he allow them to remain outside the Promised Land and to be able to raise their cattle there. As they say, “it would be a favor to us if this land were given to your servants as a holding. Do not move us across the Jordan.” We have to imagine that Moshe got petitions of some sort or another all the time. Part of the job, no doubt. We just recently saw the five daughters who requested that they be allowed to inherit their father’s estate because they had no brothers. But, unlike in that case, Moshe does not consult God or consider Gad and Reuben’s petition. Instead, he just blows up at them. As he says, “Are your brothers to go to war while you stay here?” So in part Moshe sees Gad and Reuben as selfish; it seems to him that they are not willing to do their part in the upcoming war. But Gad and Reuben assure Moshe that they WILL do their part, and that they only want to be assured that they can stay “on the east side of the Jordan” once the war is successfully completed. They have no intention, in other words, of abandoning their brothers. But Moshe has another worry. He tells them: “Why will you turn the minds of the Israelites from crossing into the land that the Lord has given them?” In other words, Moshe is concerned that the actions of Gad and Reuben---remember that they are tribal LEADERS, role models for others—Moshe is worried that their actions will lead others to think that they don’t have to cross into Israel either. Some commentators (including NACHMANIDES) think that Moshe was too harsh on Gad and Reuben, and that allowing them to stay in trans-Jordan would have actually INCREASED the amount of land that the Israelites would end up controlling. I’ll leave it to you to decide what you think about this exchange. But I can’t help but think as I read these passages how demanding a job Moshe had, and here we see him increasingly impatient. He is tired. He is spent. He is frustrated. Perhaps he’s thinking “God won’t allow ME to be in the Promised Land, and yet YOU TWO INGRATES decide you want to VOLUNTARILY stay behind.” I don’t know. But it seems clear that the challenges of leadership are becoming a real strain for Moshe. In this week’s Torah portion, we read of the five daughters of Zelophchad, whose actions changed Jewish history. You may remember that they petitioned for the right to inherit their father’s land. They had no brothers who would be next in line, so they asked to be allowed the right to Zelophchad’s estate.
Parsha Pinchas tells us that they petitioned in front of Moshe, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains, and the whole assembly. Given how little power women had in those days, that act had to take great courage, and, no doubt, a belief in the rightness of their action. Many scholars argue that Moshe had to refer this question directly to God because he wasn’t sure how to respond. This was such a unique claim that it left Moshe uncertain how to adjudicate the case. Others claim, however, that Moshe DID KNOW what was the correct response, but that he only appeared to be consulting God so that he would have the ultimate Judge backing him up. Whatever the reason, these brave women won their case. And they know how to argue—they use the patriarchal values of the time, and turn them to their favor. “Let not our father’s name be lost,” they plead. And they remind Moshe that their father was NOT one of the rebels who followed Moshe. In fact, Rabbi Kushner’s, Z”L, commentary in our Chumash makes note of this fact, and makes the point that Moshe may have recused himself so as not to appear to be biased by the daughters’ appeal to his own history. We know how stingy the Torah can sometimes be with language. And we know that that stinginess is especially true when it comes to women in the Torah. We know, for example, that Sarah died, but the focus of Chayyei Sarah is really ABRAHAM’S response to her death. How about Dinah? Her actions set her brothers off on a murderous rampage, and yet we don’t have a clue about what happened to her after that. In the Torah, women are often invisible or briefly mentioned or used to move the plot along with little sense of their own role in that plot. So, the fact that the daughters of Zelophchad get center stage here is especially noteworthy. They make a speech. They are persuasive. They speak before MEN. And we are told their names—they are Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. So, what does this tell us? To me, it tells us that even God has to be willing to adapt to changing circumstances. The lawmakers of that time did not imagine that this circumstance would come up. They probably pictured every family having sons who could and would inherit. But here was a case that was exceptional. A case that demanded a new policy. And that policy resulted in a landmark decision that changed our history. But beyond that one decision about property and inheritance, this episode makes an even larger point. The story of the daughters of Zelophchad reminds us, as the Torah does so often, that even the weakest among us should have a voice. And not just a voice. But a voice that can transform a whole people. This week’s Parsha is a strange one indeed. We have a sorcerer and a talking donkey and what seems to be God changing his instructions. I don’t know how many of you remember the VERY BAD television program, MY MOTHER THE CAR, but today’s narrative is the ancient version of that show.
In Parshat Chukkat , we read a narrative that perplexes many of our greatest scholars. Let’s remind ourselves of the story: The people complain that they do not have water, and once again they bemoan their having left Egypt.
“Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place, a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even water to drink!” In response, the presence of God appears to Moses and Aaron and he commands them to “assemble the community” and order the rock to yield its water. But Moshe does not do as God commands; instead, he strikes the rock not once but twice, and copious water flows from the rock. But what an enormous price to pay! God tells Moshe that, because he struck the rock, he is not allowed to enter the Promised Land. After leading the Israelites for forty years, through so many trials and tests, how could Moses be denied entry to the land? As Rabbi Kushner, Z”L, notes in the below-the-line commentary in our chumash Etz Hayyim, “Why should Moses, who has served God so loyally for so many years through so many trying times, be so harshly punished for what seems like a minor infraction?” Rabbi Kushner notes that the punishment seems, to use his word, ‘disproportionate’. That’s an understatement: What could possibly have been so sinful to warrant such a terrible punishment? After 40 years in the desert with these people, we can guess that Moshe has little patience left for their whining and their ingratitude. Also, we should not forget that Moshe has just lost his sister Miriam and was still in mourning for her. And Miriam herself had been the person to bring water in the desert to the Israelites. So it makes sense that Moses would associate the absence of water with her death and feel even more powerless and distraught. And that he would “lose his cool” as a result. And does Moses ever lose it! Not only does he throw a tantrum. He says, “Shimu na hamorim”--listen, you rebels! Shall we get water for you out of this rock?” We know that Moshe has a short fuse, and this incident in Chukkat is not the first where we see him display his temper. Early in his career, Moshe saw a taskmaster beating an Israelite slave, and, in a moment of righteous indignation, he strikes the Egyptian, killing him. Remember too how Moshe smashes the tablets that contain the Ten Commandments when he saw the Israelites worshipping the golden calf. But this week’s temper tantrum has disastrous consequences for Moshe, and our sages have struggled to explain the severity of God’s punishment. Rashi argues that striking the rock rather than speaking to it diminished the greatness of the miracle because it made it seem as though it took more power than it did. Ramban looks at verse 10, “Shall we get water for you out of this rock?” and argues that that statement seems to be claiming that Moses and Aaron are taking credit for the miracle and not giving the credit where it is deserved, to God. Other scholars believe that Moshe’s sin started even earlier than when he struck the rock—that it began when he needed to be told that a miracle would occur rather than just having the faith to know that it would occur. Another sage maintains that a prophet who succumbs to anger loses his prophetic ability. And Maimonides argues that Moshe’s sin lies in his name-calling—to Maimonides, his name calling which is really loshan hara—rebels!—means that Moses has lost patience with the people and therefore can no longer be a leader. If we accept that interpretation, then perhaps Moses’s failure to enter the Promised Land is less a punishment and more a recognition that it was time for new leadership, and that Moses and Aaron are physically and emotionally exhausted. That seems to be true of Chukkat in general—that this parsha seems to be about the changing of the guard, about the necessity of a new generation moving into the places once held by Miriam, Aaron, and Moshe. As the introduction to our Eytz Hayyim notes, this parsha seems to be about transitions. The center of gravity is changing here, away from Egypt and toward the Promised Land and away from the old guard to the generation that will enter Eretz Yisrael. We know that there are disputes for the sake of heaven and disputes not for the sake of heaven. Parsha Chukkat might be telling us that there is also anger for the sake of heaven and anger not for the sake of heaven. ‘Righteous indignation’ might be a better term for anger for the sake of heaven. I’ve mentioned examples of Moshe’s righteous indignation; his anger here in Chukkat is a different story. I remember reading that Abraham Lincoln had a terrible temper. I know that’s contrary to the stereotype, but he was a lot more complicated than people tend to think. In any case, Lincoln used to write incredibly angry letters to people who had let him down or failed to follow through on their commitments. But, unlike some of us [and unlike Moshe], what Lincoln did was he sealed the letter in an envelope, and even addressed it. But he NEVER SENT IT. That’s an understanding of the risks of expressing one’s anger. Ben Zoma taught “Who is mighty? One who controls his impulses.” And the Talmud tells us that we should judge a person by three things, three things that sound very similar in Hebrew: kiso by his pocket (his generosity). KOSO, literally his cup but really his APPETITES, and KA’ASO, his anger. That we get angry is only human. How we express that anger is a reflection of our character. Knowing when to get angry and how to turn anger into something constructive may be the best measure of our lives. |
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