Parshat Mishpatim 5779 - Tunnel Visions

Parsha Paragraphs

Rabbi Naftali Moshe Kassorla

Parshat Mishpatim 5779

Tunnel Visions

The D’var Torah for this week is dedicated in memory of:

 הר״ר שמעון בן צבי דוב מנלו זצ״ל

Who’s Yahrtzeit was just this past week. May his memory be a blessing for his entire family

If you are interested in sponsoring a D’var Torah in honor or in memory of someone, or for any occasion, please email: ParshaParagraphs@gmail.com

In this week’s Parsha, after the awesome moment in history when God reveals Himself through the giving of the Torah, the laws of the Torah are delineated, to be the cornerstone of a just society. These laws would not only guide the Jewish nation but also be a beacon of morality to the rest of the world.

Among the societal laws such as open pits in the public thoroughfare, bodily damages, and bearing false witness, we are told of another:

כִּֽי־תִרְאֶ֞ה חֲמ֣וֹר שֹׂנַאֲךָ֗ רֹבֵץ֙ תַּ֣חַת מַשָּׂא֔וֹ וְחָדַלְתָּ֖ מֵעֲזֹ֣ב ל֑וֹ עָזֹ֥ב תַּעֲזֹ֖ב עִמּֽוֹ

“If you see the donkey of your enemy crouching under its burden, would you refrain from helping him? You shall help repeatedly with him” (Shemot 23:5).

Now the question is: who is this “enemy” that the Torah is referring to? Though we are all guilty of this, it is in fact forbidden to hate a fellow Jew, so it must be referring to someone else.

Chazal in Pesachim (113b) tells us that this pasuk refers to someone who it is in fact permitted (even obligated) to hate. This is someone who sins consistently, despite multiple warnings. Such a person is no longer considered part of the Jewish people. Yet even so, the Torah demands that we help him with his animal’s burden. Why? Is this not still considered showing love for a wicked person, by lending a helping hand?

I would like to suggest a reason for why this is so.

The Gemara in Bava Metzia (32b), in discussing whether the prohibition of צער בעלי חיים  (causing pain to animals) is Biblical or Rabbinic in origin, actually cites our verse as the source that it is from the Torah (and so rules the majority of the Rishonim). Meaning that reason why we help the animal is not as a friendly act to the sinner, but rather as a kindness to the animal.

This implies to us that despite the fact that the owner is wicked and is not considered part of the Nation, nonetheless we still help the animals with it’s burden. For although it may be a mitzvah to hate this willful sinner, it is not a mitzvah to cause pain to the animal – That is completely forbidden. But it is all too easy for this important point to get lost in the shuffle.

And with this can learn a tremendous lesson: the importance of compartmentalization, and understanding where and when to apply our principles. Though it is a mitzvah to despise this particular person, that mitzvah is not a carte blanche allowance to ignore the pain of the animal. Principles should not lead to “tunnel vision” whereby one does not take heed of other issues as well. If certain principles causes one to impinge upon other aspects of civility, it is a reflection of the quality (or lack-thereof) of that principle within us.

I recall hearing from the Rosh Yeshiva Rav Yechiel Perr Shlit”a in the name of the Vilna Gaon, that in order to determine if one's actions are in fact good, he must examine the after-effects. This, explains the Gaon, is the meaning of the Mishna in Avot (4:2): מצוה גוררת מצוה – one mitzvah leads to another mitzvah. If the consequence of one’s “mitzvah” is negative, it is usually a sign it is not the right path. And if the fruits of one’s actions are clearly positive, one may rest assured knowing it was indeed a mitzvah. So too here, when the person is applying the principle of hating this wicked man, he must apply it with a wide scope, utilizing שיקול הדעת and a keen eye for the possible repercussions. With that eye he can determine if it is in fact a mitzvah to demonstrate hate at that time, or not.

Rav Yisroel Salanter זצ״ל famously once quipped, that a man can have all the spiritual, mystical intentions in the world as he puts on his Tallit. But the minute he wraps the Tallit around his head, thereby whipping the Tzizit strings into the face of the person behind him, all the כוונות go down the drain. Why? Because this ״עבד ה׳״ has tunnel vision, putting on the Tzizit has been transformed into a selfish endeavor - quite the opposite of an “other-worldly act”.

Again, the key is to not fall into the trap of tunnel vision. And when we overcome it and are able to take in all factors of the situation, allows us to correctly prioritize competing values. We must be able to approach life in a nuanced way.

Thus, when one is faced with “someone you hate,” rather than be a proverbial bull in a china shop and rigidly push away any thought of helping, or not even stop to notice the animal’s pain, one must leave open a space in his mind and heart to notice the suffering of the animal as well. For he should know intuitively that his “mitzvah” cannot come at the expense of the animal.

This explanation could perhaps illuminate another part of the Parsha. After the law of relieving the burden of your enemy’s animal, the very next verse is a call to Judges: “You shall not pervert the Judgement of your destitute person in his dispute” (ibid. 6). The Sforno explains: “You [the Judge] shall not be soft with this one, and difficult with this one during the court proceedings when each side presents their cases.” Why not? Is this person not destitute? Perhaps ruling against the poor man may be devastating for him financially! Furthermore, perhaps the other side is rich! Can he not spare a few dollars to help this poor man? The Mechilta (ibid.) even says that this verse refers a situation to where one litigant is wicked and the other is righteous. Would it not be appropriate to rule in favor of the righteous individual? Is this not justice? Isn’t this what G-d would want? The answer is of course not. The Torah calls this way of thinking actually a perversion of justice. By taking these foreign factors into account when rendering the Halacha, the Judge is perverting the system of law. Nothing other than the facts of the case, regardless of the economic or social status of the baalei dinim, may be taken into account.

This ability for the Judge to see each person equally can only come when the Judge has trained his mind and שכל to not allow outside factors to cloud his judgment. Whether one side is destitute, a widower, or an orphan, this skill will allow him to filter out or properly weigh the factors that are needed to render a דין אמת.

Both of these instances – one who helps the burden of an animal, by ignoring his hate for the owner, and a Judge who rules against the poor man, by ignoring his social status – result in a fair, just and kind society that is in tune with the needs of the people, yet at the same time creates the environment for enforcement of an equal system for justice.

This is the result of God-centered society: fairness, sensitivity for all of G-d’s creatures, and a proper application of morals and values. May we merit to implement these ideas and see this in our own society.

Shabbat Shalom

Parsha Paragraphs in the Jewish Tribune UK - Yisro 5779

Parshat Bo 5779 - The Chains That Bind Us

Parsha Paragraphs

Rabbi Naftali Moshe Kassorla

Parshat Bo 5779

The Chains That Bind Us

The D’var Torah for this week is dedicated in memory of:

 ר׳ אלחנן יעקב ז״ל בן מורי וחמי ר׳ שמואל פנחס

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In this week’s Parsha, Hashem prepares for the final three plagues against Egypt. These plagues will pave the way for the ultimate redemption of the Jewish People, as they serve to be the final knockout to Egypt.

At this crucial moment, Hashem tells Moshe that He is bringing these plagues upon the Egyptians: למען תספר באזני בנך ובן בנך את אשר התעללתי במצרים…“so that I can put these signs of Mine in his midst; and so that you may relate in the ears of your son and your son’s son that I made a mockery of Egypt…that you may know that I am Hashem” (Shemot 10:1-2).

Hashem commands us to relate, in detail, the plagues and His domination over Egypt, for in seeing the power of the plagues, we and the generations to come will have a greater recognition of Hashem.

However, we must ask a glaring question: Why now at this very moment? Have all the plagues been completed yet? No! Three more plagues have yet to come, yet the Torah is now telling us of the obligation to recount the plagues. It seems logical that at the conclusion of the plagues, we would have the fuller picture and greater perspective of Hashem's greatness. Wouldn’t that then allow for a better and greater recounting of the story of the גאולה? Yet, Hashem tells us of this need to tell over the מכות to the next generation in the middle of the story. Why?

There is a famous Gemara in Yevamot (79a) that can perhaps give us greater clarity into the timing of this obligation. The Gemara tells us something about the unique traits of the Jewish People:

שלשה סימנים יש באומה זו, הרחמנים והביישנין וגומלי חסדים
There are three attributes to this [Jewish] nation: Merciful, Modest, and Generosity

It is a fact borne out by our common history that the Jewish people tend to be merciful (albeit often misplaced). Jews of all religious backgrounds tend towards charitable and political/social activism. It manifests itself in an almost gut level reaction to defend the vulnerable. This innate reaction no doubt stems from the Divine ethos that were revealed to the Jewish people at the foot of Har Sinai millennia ago and ingrained within us for generations.

However, while having mercy for the downtrodden is a praiseworthy quality, it can act as a double-edged sword. Vague and unchannelled feelings of mercy for the downtrodden (simply for one being in a downtrodden state, without a sense of context) is monumentally dangerous. It can cause one to be too trusting of others in a time that does not call for mercy. Chazal warns of this type of misplaced mercy, and the detrimental impact it can have on maintaining a healthy balance of justice in society.

With this in mind, we can now answer why Hashem chose this very moment, in the middle of the plagues, as the time to recount the story. Egypt was in-effect desolate, literally standing on one crippled foot, about to crumble. Anyone with a semblance of a heart, it would be impossible not to feel some sort of mercy at this point, even with Egypt’s long history of abuse to the Jews. In truth, the most appropriate time to recount the plagues was specifically in the middle of plagues, to prevent “misplaced mercy.”

Growing up I was always fascinated with an interesting phenomenon that would occur in Boxing. The lead-up to a fight would be raucous and tense between the fighters. Taunting and threats thrown between the two boxers, with the media breathlessly covering it all. The fans, all aligning behind the fighter of their choice, become divided among themselves. In fact, it was not uncommon that in press conferences to promote the match, fist fights and brawls would break out between the two camps of fighters. Ginning up more anger and blood lust between the fans. Finally, after all the hoopla, the big night arrives and the tension is palpable. And when that bell rings and the fists fly, the heartbeats are racing as the crowd squeals in excitement at every blow landed and every drop of blood drawn.

Yet what I found so amazing, comes at the very moment when it is clear that the fight has been won. The boxer has his opponent pinned up against the ropes, and is landing one powerful blow after another. Jabs, uppercuts to the head, and blows to the body. Each punch delivered  with enough force to permanently damage organs and break bones. Yet, maybe out of pride or most probably out of sheer stupidity, his opponent just won’t go down or give up. I recall on many occasions the commentators, almost in a scolding tone, calling “the Ref has got to stop this fight”. The crowd, though initially hungry for this very gore, begin to internally cringe and look away, as their stomachs turn at the sight of such a brutal beating. The next day, the media and the public condemn the referee, the trainers and the sport as a whole for being callous and irresponsible in being late in stopping the fight.

Why is this so? Why is the reaction so visceral and extreme? Didn’t the people just cheer for the fighters to destroy each other? Isn't this exactly what we want? 

The answer, I believe, is that deep down we are not brutal savages, we are not completely cruel. No normal person wishes for a person to be beaten past the point of being indefensible and to an inch of his life. This is a natural response for any human, but all-the-more so for the Jewish people.

This is again what, I believe Hashem wanted to forestall. Hashem knew that the Jews would have the innate emotional reaction of empathy for the Egyptians. Thus, Hashem chose a time in the midst of the punishment to state the obligation to recount the plagues. For through recounting the story, we remind ourselves of the reasons why Hashem is doing this to Egypt – the pain they caused, and the evil decrees they enacted upon us.

To now feel empathy for Egypt would have detracted from the message that Hashem wanted to ingrain in us and the world. The response of mercy would have been wrong here – רחמנות במקום אכזריות. Now was the time for Hashem to glorify Himself for all generations and for this, our nerves needed to be steeled. We couldn’t allow ourselves to feel the Egyptians pain.

But, Chas V’Shalom for one to walk away from this idea thinking that we shouldn't never have any mercy for the Egyptians. On the contrary; on Seder night, the very night when we recount the story of our redemption, we actually spill wine and detract from our own happiness in recognition of the fallen Egyptians.

However, the difference is that this act only comes at a time when we can look back as free people, from the perch of history, where we can see everything come together to form the beauty of the redemption. This is not misplaced, for here the mercy is not stemming from an automatic emotional response. Instead on this most joyous of nights, when we are free men of royalty, we still relate to the pain of others – even of those of our enemies. In this way, we revel in the joy of the Exodus and the recognition of Hashem’s Sovereignty, but we also show that we are masters over our own mercy – a sign of true freedom and autonomy.

I once heard a quote: “Control yourself or someone else will control you”. But the message conveyed in it, in my opinion, is not a Jewish concept. Autonomy for its own sake is not a Jewish ideal. Rather I want to amend that quote like this: “Control yourself or something else will control you.” If we aren’t actively working on controlling our behavior, then ultimately some other force will end up controlling you.

This lesson can show us how a Jew is to internalize messages and utilize his emotions. Feelings should not be simply a reaction to external stimuli; rather, they can be controlled and felt at the appropriate times. There is a time to be merciful and a time to be harsh, a time to be happy and a time to be sad. Hashem, in His unfathomable wisdom wants us to be true masters over ourselves.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Va’eira 5779 - Unreflective Reflexes

Parsha Paragraphs

Rabbi Naftali Moshe Kassorla

Parshat Va’eira 5779

Unreflective Reflexes

The D’var Torah for this week is dedicated in the memory of:

Sra Frida Ferdose bat Rivka

If you are interested in sponsoring a D’var Torah in honor or in memory of someone, or for any occasion, please email: ParshaParagraphs@gmail.com

This week's Parsha begins the מכות that Hashem will bring down upon Egypt. Hashem commands Moshe to confront פרעה with a miracle – turning his staff into a snake – to show that Moshe is Hashem’s shaliach. פרעה summons the חרטומים - the “wise men and sorcerers” (7:11) and they manage to copy Moshe. Later, Moshe and Aharon, confront פרעה and warn him of the first plague: the changing of the Nile to blood, and the death of the fish in it. Aharon strikes the Nile and it turns to blood. Again פרעה has the חרטומים copy this.

In describing פרעה’s reaction to the מכה, the Torah tells us: ויפן פרעה ויבא אל־ביתו ולא־שת לבו גם־לזאת - “Pharoah turned and went home, and he paid no heed, even to this.” Rashi explains, “ולא־שת לבו: to the נס of the staff which was changed into a snake and also not to that of the blood” (7:23).

However, we already know from the previous pesukim that when the חרטומים copied the miracles: “פרעה’s heart stiffened and he did not heed them…” (7:11) and “when the Egyptian sorcerers did the same with their spells, פרעה’s heart became hard, and he did not heed them…” (7:22)

What is the Torah adding by telling us again that פרעה did not take listen or care? And what connection is there between the beginning of the verse “פרעה turned and went home..” to the end of the verse that “he paid no heed.”

I believe the answer lies within ourselves. There are times in life when we are inspired to overcome a challenge or a bad habit, to finally make that change that we know we so desperately need.

Yet so often, those feelings which have grabbed us seem to vanish. This can leave us feeling without direction, and dejected - the feeling of helplessness and incapability only solidified further.

But the most important thing to do - to keep that moment, is to quickly act upon it: to write a note, or do something concrete - immediately.

But what ends up happening? What do we do that kills that moment? We return to our daily routine, unchanged. We miss opportunities to grow when we go back to what feels familiar, to our “comfort-zone”. There we can forget and ignore the inspiration we experienced.

With this in mind we can now, understand the parsha. Upon seeing ניסים גלויים that only a fool could ignore, פרעה should have taken a moment to stop and reflect. Even after his own sorcerers copied Moshe, he could have seen Hashem’s יד. The Sforno says that פרעה should have questioned what he saw. For the makkah of Moshe killed the fish. But the חרטומים only changed the color of the water. If only Pharaoh had stopped and thought a bit, he would have noticed this obvious difference.

Yet, what does פרעה do? Does he take a minute to stop and think? No, instead he turns and goes home; he returns to his comfort-zone, his familiar surroundings, and ultimately, to the same self as before. This seemingly insignificant action, of ויבא אל־ביתו inevitably led to: ולא שת ליבו גם לזאת. That moment, that chance to reflect, was lost. Thus, it was only natural that פרעה would not take anything to heart. But not only that, this refusal to think, ultimately would be his undoing.

For ourselves, all too often, we allow moments of התעוררת to slip away. But when we realize that it's in our hands to seize them and build on them we can actually grow. Unlike Pharoah, we have the desire to become better, can then use these moments to achieve our goals.

Shabbat Shalom