Promises to ourselves, to others, maybe even to the Divine. But following through? That's the real test.

The Sifrei Devarim, a legal midrash on the Book of Deuteronomy, shares a fascinating story about this very idea. It involves someone whose intentions were certainly…ambitious.

Rabbi Shimon tells us of a person who declared, "I will go to my land and to my kindred, and I will convert the people of my land and of my family." Quite a proclamation! But did he actually do it? Did his actions match his words?

Now, you might be skeptical. Did he just say the words, or did he follow through? Well, the text offers evidence that, indeed, he did. We find support in I Chronicles 2:55: "And the families of scribes who dwelt at Ya'abetz… These were the Kenites who descended from Chammath, the father of the house of Rechav." And further, Judges 1:16 tells us, "And the children of the Kenite, the father-in-law of Moses, ascended from the city of date palms" (Jericho).

Think about this for a moment. These Kenites willingly left a place of abundance – a literal oasis flowing with fruit, food, and drink – to journey to the arid south of Arad, to the desert. Why? To learn Torah with Ya'abetz. Now, who was Ya'abetz, you ask? None other than Othniel ben Kenaz! That’s quite a commitment, isn’t it? Giving up comfort for spiritual growth, choosing Torah over earthly delights. It speaks volumes about the power of conversion, of inspiring others to seek wisdom.

But the Sifrei Devarim doesn't stop there. It pivots to another intriguing point, concerning King David's purchase of the future site of the Temple. This is where things get a bit… numerically challenging.

We encounter a seeming contradiction. II Samuel 24:24 states, "And David bought the threshing floor and the cattle for fifty silver shekels." Yet, I Chronicles 21:25 says, "And David gave Ornan for the place golden shekels, six hundred."

Wait a minute. Fifty silver shekels… or six hundred golden shekels? How do we reconcile these differing accounts? The Sifrei Devarim proposes a clever solution. It can't literally mean golden shekels, because of the verse that says silver. And it can't literally mean silver shekels, because of the verse that says gold. The answer? He weighed the purchase in gold, but bought it in silver.

But the discrepancy remains: fifty versus six hundred. The text suggests that when David recognized the perfect location for the Temple, he collected fifty shekalim – a unit of weight – from each tribe. Since there were twelve tribes, this totaled six hundred shekalim. So, each tribe contributed to making this holy site possible.

What are we to make of all this? The Sifrei Devarim, through these seemingly disparate stories, underscores the importance of intention, action, and community. The initial vow to convert one’s people, the Kenites' dedication to Torah study, and David's communal purchase of the Temple site all point to a central idea: that meaningful change, whether personal or collective, requires both individual commitment and collaborative effort. Sometimes, even seemingly contradictory accounts can reveal a deeper truth about shared purpose and collective responsibility. Isn’t that something to think about?