Who Is More Dangerous — the Enemy with a Sword or the Friend with Advice? A Reflection on Parashat Ki Teitzei

Parashat Ki Teitzei (Deuteronomy 21:10–25:19) begins with the words: “When you go out to war against your enemies…” (Deut. 21:10). On the surface, the Torah is speaking about physical battle. But Jewish tradition teaches us to look deeper. Our sages and classic commentators read these words as describing an inner spiritual battle — one that each person faces in their lifetime.

This war is not only against external threats. It is also against the voices that speak from within or from those around us, offering advice that sounds caring or reasonable — but in truth, quietly pulls us away from Torah.

Advice can be a weapon. Especially when it comes from those we consider close. It may sound gentle, thoughtful, even loving. But that is what makes it so dangerous: it enters the soul without resistance and begins to weaken our clarity, confidence, and faith.

In my life, I have a relative — my uncle — and a childhood friend, both of whom long ago cut ties with Jewish tradition. Over time, they have not only turned away from Torah but turned to mockery. Whenever I speak about Shabbat, kashrut, or our sages, they reply with something like:

“You’re living in fantasy.”

“Pork is healthier than all your old customs — especially in the winter. It’s full of vitamins.”

“You need to live in the real world, not read Hasidic fairy tales.”

But this is more than sarcasm. It has become an ideology — a philosophy of contempt. In their language, pork has become a banner of disdain for anything sacred. And one day I realized: they aren’t just eating something the Torah forbids — the spirit of that food is consuming them. They don’t just eat pork — pork eats them.

There’s a concept in Jewish thought:

“Mah akhalto, ken da’ato” — as one eats, so he thinks.

Food doesn’t only affect the body. It shapes the soul. What a person consumes — and how — becomes part of who they are, both physically and spiritually.

That’s why I distanced myself. Not out of anger. But as Avraham distanced himself from his father Terach. Quietly. Painfully. With love, but also with truth. Because you cannot reach the Promised Land while still living in the house of idolatry.

This doesn’t mean abandoning the commandment to honor one’s parents. Even Avraham, when Terach needed help, came to him. Respect — yes. Submission to darkness — no. Love — yes. Participation in sin — no.

King Shlomo writes: “Faithful are the wounds of a friend; deceitful are the kisses of an enemy” (Proverbs 27:6). A true friend may tell you something painful, but honest. A false friend soothes you with what’s comfortable, while leading you off the path.

The Torah tells us that when the prophet Bilaam failed to curse Israel, he gave advice instead: “Let the daughters of Moav seduce them…” (Numbers 25:1–3). And that advice brought about tragedy. More than a curse, it caused moral collapse. Dangerous advice is often disguised as something wise or caring.

Ki Teitzei is a parasha of discernment. Whose voice are you listening to? Who truly wants your good? Who is your teacher?

Is it Torah — or fear?

Is it the voice of Avraham — or the voice of a bitter uncle?

Is it light — or envy?

People say to me, “You’ve changed.”

And I answer: Yes, I’ve changed. Thank G-d.

And yet, even in pain, even after distancing myself, I continue to pray. I pray even for those who mock, who reject, who challenge. Because we are all sheep of the same Shepherd. Even those who stray deserve a path back.

In the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 24b) and Midrash, there is a teaching:

In the time to come, when Moshiach arrives, even pork will become kosher.

This is not permission to violate halacha today. It is a spiritual teaching: that the world will be transformed. Even impurity will be refined. Even distant souls will be elevated. Even darkness will return to its source.

But until that day comes — we separate. We strive. We uphold the boundaries. Not out of fear, but out of dignity. Not out of arrogance, but out of love for truth.

Parashat Ki Teitzei is not only about war. It is about choosing your path. About loyalty. About knowing which voices to follow — and which to leave behind.

The one who wins this battle is not the loudest.

Not the most experienced.

But the one who remains pure.

And if you find yourself walking alone, but you are walking in the footsteps of Avraham —

Know this: You are not alone. You are walking in the right direction.