Parshas Behar - Bechukotai: A Labor Of Love

This week's parsha, Bechukotai, tells us of the many blessings that G-d would bestow upon us “If you will go in my statutes and observe my commandments…” (Vayikra 26:3). Rain shall come, the fruits of the field shall be plentiful, and peace will be in the land.

We would think that such bountiful rewards refer to perfect mitzvah observance. Yet, Rashi (quoting the Torat Kohanim 26:2) says that this refers to עמלות בתורה, lit. toiling in Torah.

Further on, G-d warns us: “But if you will not listen to Me and will not perform all of these commandments…If you consider My decrees loathsome…” (Ibid. 14-15). What follows in the parsha are seven distinct punishments and thirty one verses of admonition – almost triple the amount of verses dedicated to the blessings listed previously. Why is the punishment so extreme?

Surely such a punishment is caused by a severely wicked path. Yet we find in Rashi (again quoting the Torat Kohanim): “If you will not listen to me: to be toiling in Torah.” Simply astounding! This exhaustive list of devastating and destructive consequences is due to a lack of עמלות בתורה? It would be understandable to say that this would stem from a complete breakdown in Torah observance, or a scorning of G-d, blaspheming His name. Yet we see that mere “lack of toil” is enough of a reason to bring down intense punishment upon the people? Why?

The truth is that עמלות – the effort expended in learning Torah – and not the action itself, serves as the real litmus test of attitude, of how much one values and respects Torah and mitzvot in general. And while the end-products of actual limud and observance are important, the effort applied towards them is a more accurate display of one's love and care for the entirety of the Torah; a reflection of our connection to Torah. This is our approach to Limmud HaTorah: the entire focus on the study of Torah is not result-oriented, rather it is process-oriented. This, says the Bach (Orach Chaim 47:4:1) is the reason why it is the Ashkenazic custom to say in the Birchat HaTorah: “לעסוק בדברי תורה” i.e. the business, the labor and effort of Torah study.

There are many brilliant minds, capable of studying any given sugya or topic for a short time, and are able to process the information quickly. They are even able to formulate complex ideas and theories within seconds. Yet, this ability bespeaks nothing of this person’s love of Torah, or their dedication to its ideas and message. For them, it's a passing activity. Today it's Torah, but tomorrow it could be some other topic, to this person it's just a mental exercise.

But the study of Torah is not a mental exercise, or a brain-teaser, where the goal is: how quickly and easily can you do it? It is the act of fashioning our ideas and intellect, and bringing them closer to the Mind of the Divine. Only through the prodigious effort expended in study can one rise to this level.

I once heard my Rosh Yeshiva Rav Ahron Lopiansky Shlit”a bemoan how, while Chacham Ovadia Yosef זצ״ל was world-renowned for his amazing and awe-inspiring photographic memory, too often what was glossed over was his amazing התמדה – diligence in learning. For while it was impressive he could recall so much from books and sources, people seem to forget that in order for him to recall those sources, it meant he had to dedicate hours and hours to sitting and learning them! The building-up of that massive storage of information did not come without intense dedication to their study.

It is related that people used to remark how the Rogatchover Gaon, Rav Yosef Rosen, was a world-class genius with phenomenal memory, who knew the entire Shas backwards and forwards. The Meshech Chochma, Rav Meir Simcha M’Dvinsk, upon hearing this would say: “It's not that he [the Rogatchover] has a photographic memory, it's just that when you ask him a question anywhere in Shas, because he is constantly reviewing Shas, he just recently saw the Gemara!”

The process – the effort, toil and dedication – is what matters, not the finished product. The non-toiling, while it may seem innocuous, just simply lacking effort, is in truth a reflection of our appreciation (or lack-thereof) for Torah and mitzvot in general.

This is why the verse that follows: “But if you will not listen to Me” (because we are not toiling in Torah) is “If you find my decrees loathsome – ואם בחוקותי תמאסו”. What is loathsome? Rashi tells us this refers to others who keep the Mitzvot. One who does not toil will bring about a chain-reaction that will inevitably result in him looking with disgust upon those who do commit themselves to the Torah. Why is this so? If I personally do not toil in Torah, I will loath and despise others who do??

Yes – because in truth, the lack of עמילות is a reflection of my deeper attitude. If I do not think that Torah is valuable and worthy of my effort, I will not respect those who recognize its true value. And I will need to justify my own approach by disregarding their behavior as loathsome and unacceptable.

How powerful is the toil of Torah! May we all be זוכה to learn Torah with effort and diligence, and to have this attitude pervade our observance of Mitzvot every day.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Emor - All in the Family

“You shall dwell in Sukkot for a seven day period; כל אזרח בישראל - every citizen in Israel shall sit in Sukkot” (Vayikra 23:42). The question is asked: seemingly בישראל is superfluous; what is it meant to include? Rashi says this is coming to include converts.

Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky זצ״ל asks: why is there a need for a limmud to tell us that a convert is included? Are converts not just like any other Jew? The need for a special limmud gives the impression that, if not for the drasha, a convert would not be obligated in the mitzvah of Sukka! Why would this be so?

Rav Yaakov explains, the reason can be found in the very next verse: “So that your generations will know that I caused the Children of Israel to dwell in Sukkot when I took them from the land of Israel.” (ibid. 43). The Sukka would stand as a reminder that G-d protected our ancestors in the Wilderness. If so, one might have thought that this applied only to those who were actually in the wilderness; but a convert, whose ancestors were not in the Midbar, may not be obligated. Thus, the need for a special drasha: even converts are included in the obligation, for they are equal to the rest of the nation.

In light of this, we can ask another question. We find in the Mishna in Bikkurim (1:4) that when the farmer brings his first fruits, he must read from the “Parshat Habikkurim.” In that parsha, the farmer gives thanks to G-d for the fruit of the Land that “He [G-d] swore to our ancestors to give us.” The Mishna disqualifies a convert from this reading. Because in fact, the convert’s ancestors were not promised the land.* Why is there no drasha here to include a Ger in the mitzvah of Kriat Parshat Habikkurim? Should this not be similar to the mitzvah of Sukka, where despite the lack of the converts’ ancestors’ presence in the midbar, they are nonetheless included? Both mitzvot are seemingly stating a fact i.e. “my ancestors were present at the time of the mitzvah,” thus excluding a convert from claiming the same thing. If so, what is distinct about the mitzvah of Sukka, that the Torah goes out of its way to include converts as well?

Perhaps the distinction lies in the ultimate message of Sukkot. The miracle of Sukkot in the desert was that G-d protected the Jewish people from all outside forces; as the prophet says the Sukkot would serve “as a shade from heat in the daytime, as a protection and refuge from storm and from rain” (Yishaya 4:6). The Jews, dwelling in utter isolation, were shielded by G-d Himself from the harsh weather and elements. But this protection was not a one-time occurrence. Rather, this care and love that He bestowed upon us exists for all times and generations. “So that your generations will know…” – what Hahem did then, and what He will continue to do for us! By remembering the miracle He did then, we can know that we can rely on His protection always.

We see a difference in the statement made by Sukkot versus that of Bikkurim. With Bikkurim, the farmer is stating a historical fact - the focus is on what actually happened. It would be incorrect for a convert to make a statement such as this, which is false. Hashem did not promise the land to his ancestors. However, by the mitzvah of Sukkot, we see from the pasuk that the emphasis is not on what happened, but on the implications it has for our emunah in Hashem’s care for us. The message of G-d’s divine protection is something that is not only timeless, but universal as well; a love that crosses all genealogies and backgrounds. Of this love, a convert is surely part of the “family.”

There are many things which can “shake” our emunah and make us feel like we are not experiencing, or not worthy of G-d’s care. It is at those times which we can find strength in connecting to the past – our own, and that of our collective history – to recall when we have seen G-d’s personal care for us. Every person in the nation, no matter his background, needs to ingrain this message in himself so that he will never lose hope or faith.

*The Yerushalmi (ibid.) disagrees with this Mishna and cites the opinion of Rabbi Yehuda that any Ger can recite the Bikkurim text, as Avraham Avinu was “the father of all the nation (Bereishit 17:5), and hence as the father of all future Geirim. Thus every Ger is included within that original oath to Avraham. The Rambam (Bikkurim 4:3) rules like the Yerushalmi.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Acharei Mot - Kedoshim: Not A Chance

This week's parsha begins: “Hashem spoke to Moshe after the death of Aharon's two sons, when they approached before Hashem, and they died” (Vayikra 16:1). In Aharon's merit for accepting the decree without question, G-d introduces the service in the Mishkan on Yom Kippur. “בזאת יבא אהרן” –  “With this shall Aharon enter [the holy of holies]” (ibid. 3).

Among the intricate and lengthy details of the Yom Kippur service that the Kohen Gadol must perform, there is a compelling and mysterious aspect: the שעיר המשתלח. The Kohen would set aside two he-goats, one on his left side and the other on his right. The Kohen would then stick both hands into a box and draw lots, one in each hand. On one lot was written “לה׳”. It would be attached to one of the goats (the goat on the same side as the hand that drew this lot), and the goat would be brought as a קרבן חטאת. The other lot read ״לעזאזל״ and was put on the other goat, which would be brought outside the city and pushed off a high cliff.

What is the significance of these lots? Seemingly it would be enough to set aside each one for a purpose, as with any other korban, i.e. one would be designated as a חטאת, and the other goat would be, by default, sent to Azazel. What is the purpose of labeling each goat separately, and specifically through the process of a lottery?

There is a fascinating Gemara in Sanhedrin (43b). After the miraculous destruction of Jericho, G-d placed a complete חרם (ban) on the spoils of war. In the next attempt at conquest, Yehoshua and the nation wage war against the people of Ai, but are soundly beat back, losing thirty-six men in the battle. Yehoshua is at a complete loss to why this tragedy befell the Nation. G-d comes to Yehoshua and tells him that someone in the camp has broken the חרם. Yehoshua asks G-d: “Who is it?” G-d responds “וכי דילטור אני (Am I a gossiper)?! Go, and make a גורל (a lottery).” Yehoshua draw the lot, and it falls on Achan. Confronted with the results, Achan responds: “How can you find me guilty through lots? If I were to put you [Yehoshua] and Elazar Hakohen, two of the greatest of the generation, surely the lots would fall upon one of you as well!” Deeply bothered by this, Yehoshua responds: “Do not cast aspersions upon the lots, through which the land of Israel is destined to be apportioned!” Achan finally relents and admits his sin.

What was Achan’s argument here? And what upset Yehoshua so much?

Achan’s defense was this: “If I were to put you [Yehoshua] and Elazar Hakohen surely it would fall on one of you.” The Maharsha (ibid.) explains that Achan was claiming that there is no Providential authority to the lots; rather they are subject to “chance” – a מקרה בעלמא – just a random statistical occurrence! For even if he were to put two of the most saintly people, leaders of the generation, one of them would be found “guilty”. If they were the only options, then of course, statistically it would have to fall on at least one of them. According to Achan’s reasoning, surely the lots are not a proof that he committed any wrongdoing.

Achan was attacking a basic premise in Judaism: G-d’s intimate and personal relationship with the Jewish people. Our nation exists on a wholly different plane than the rest of the of world. אין מזל לישראל, the Gemara says (Shabbat 156b). We are not governed by “chance” or statistics, rather we are tended with love, guided and cared for directly by the One Above. (While the nature of השגחה פרטית is subject to dispute, this is only regarding the individual, but in reference to the Nation as a whole there is almost a unanimous agreement among the Mefarshim that G-d is personally involved in the collective fate of the Jewish People*.) To claim or suggest that something is just by chance or happenstance, removes the unique connection that G-d has bestowed upon the Jewish people, having set us aside from among the nations of the world. Yehoshua was deeply angered at this wanton disrespect for the lottery; he understood that nothing is by chance, and nothing that happens in this world is without G-d’s personal knowledge and direction.

This is why lots are so integral to the service of Yom Kippur. They stand as symbols to the Jewish people that they are in the Hands of G-d, just as our fate and forgiveness on this holy day is decided by G-d alone. Not by chance or statistics, but rather a clear and guiding Master, and unto Him do we pray for our personal and national salvation. These lots would serve as the reminder that we are not cast into this world without Divine direction or care, and that no matter what the statistics say, there is always a chance that Hashem will do differently.

I once heard a remarkable story: A father of three was unfortunately stricken with a rare disease, an illness that carried with it a low percentage of survival. The family, obviously devastated to receive such news, met with their doctor to discuss a plan of action. The doctor, a non-Jew, led the family through what felt like a dizzying maze of options of experimental medications, risky surgeries and consultations with other doctors–experts in the field. Just as the family was about to leave, the doctor stopped the family: “One last thing I must tell you...you are Orthodox Jews, and you have a very powerful tool; you have prayer. I can't tell you how many times I've seen Jews beat the odds. It's like you people are not subject to percentages! Being an atheist, as hard as it is to admit, I've seen it too many times to ignore. Please don't forget to pray.” The family, strengthened with this “medical advice,” stormed the Heavens with their prayers. Baruch Hashem, their father went on to live for many years in full health, “beating the odds.”

This doctor had a front-row seat to this special nature of Klal Yisrael. No force or כח (power) other than G-d Himself controls our fate, and surely not statistics – a complete absence of power. This is a message we can learn from the גורלות of the Yom Kippur service, which we can carry through all year long.

Shabbat Shalom

*Regarding Achan's guilt, proven by the lotteries: why is this not considered purely a personal השגחה פרטית question, which is subject to dispute as previously mentioned. The answer to this is as follows: the lots were cast in order to discern the reason for why Klal Yisrael lost to Ai, which is ultimately a collective issue. The entire context and purpose of this story in the Gemara in Sanhedrin is that the punishment for Achan’s sin was a carrying-out of collective punishment after crossing the Jordan, the time at which Klal Yisrael became subject to “כל ישראל ערבים זה בזה” – collective responsibility.

Parshat Tazria-Metzora: A Life Apart

This week’s parsha tells us of the Metzora – someone afflicted with Tzaraat – who must be put חוץ למחנה ישראל, sequestered from the Jews’ encampment.

Why is utter isolation the appropriate punishment for the Metzora?

The Gemara in Arachin (15b) gives in an interesting explanation:

"אמר ריש לקיש מאי דכתיב {ויקרא יד-ב} זאת תהיה תורת המצורע זאת תהיה תורתו של מוציא שם רע"
“Reish Lakish said: What is stated ‘This shall be the law of the Metzora’ (Vayikra 14:2) – This shall be the law of one who slanders”

This affliction comes upon one who has actively slandered others. Thus, it seems befitting that the punishment for this person is alienation. By slandering others, he is misusing the gift of speech – a potential means of connection to others and building of society – in order to wreak havoc and bring destruction to humanity. Such a person shows that he is not fit to live among the rest of the people.

Unfortunately, we see too often that slander is used to “get ahead” in the workplace and in life. Man will “play” one person against another in an attempt to curry favor with both, thinking this will make him successful. But the Torah tells us that this behavior will ultimately lead to his downfall. The message here is clear: in the end, it is the slanderer who will become isolated and alone.

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz זצ״ל explains why Chazal (Nedarim 64b) includes the Metzora among the four who are considered dead even in life: 1. The Poor man; 2. The Childless; 3. The Blind Man; and 4. The Metzora. Each one of these categories of people are in some way or another excluded from “society.” The poor man cannot afford his basic necessities as others can, the barren are excluded from family activities, and the blind man cannot sense what others sense. In these ways each one is “removed” from the general public. The Metzora too, due to his own infractions, cannot partake of civil society. He is considered “dead”, not privy to live life (חיים) among others.

I once heard from Rav Yecheskel Weinfeld שליט״א an interesting idea. The word for life – חיים – is plural. This signifies to us that true life is not one of isolation. Rather it is to be shared with others. This dovetails beautifully with the message of the Metzora. He who is actively engaged in antisocial behaviors, using his speech to undercut and hurt others, is to be expelled from civilization – from “life.”

Both the Kli Yakar and Rav Hirsch tell us that, in his isolation, the Metzora is now forced to reflect on his deficiencies and repent, so that he can once more become worthy of being a part of this nation.

But while we antagonize the actions of the Metzora, the Torah does not allow us to forget his plight. The Gemara in Moed Katan (5a) quotes the verse “He [the Metzora] is to call out “Contaminated, Contaminated!” (ibid. 13:45). The Gemara explains that this proclamation is to serve the double purpose of warning others of his affliction, so that they will not come to contamination, and also to: “inform the public of his anguish, so that they may pray for him.”

This Gemara has always fascinated me. The Metzora has done irrevocable damage to people’s lives, families and the general good of the community, to the extent that we disallow him any association with others. Seemingly, if there is a poster-child for a cancer on society, this person is it! When banishing him, shouldn’t we be saying: “Good riddance!”? Yet we see the complete opposite response is expected. The Torah demands of us to pray for him, that he should fix his ways and learn his lesson. I believe this is because while we banish the Metzora for his crimes against humanity, through that process we cannot lose our humanity; we must still be able to empathize and care for everyone.

Speech is an amazing thing. It has no physical characteristics (דבר שאין בו ממש), yet we see that it has the power to build and destroy, alienate and connect. We would be wise to be careful in our everyday activities to use speech not to put-down and belittle, but rather as a tool to create and empower.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Vayikra - The Teacher’s Teacher

This week's parsha welcomes us to a new Sefer and the world of Korbanot. The parsha begins: “He called out to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying” (Vayikra 1:3). Rashi explains that ויקרא (“He called out”) which appears superfluous, comes to teach us a rule – that every statement, saying, and command from G-d to Moshe is preceded with a קריאה (a “calling”) which is a language of endearment, a language that the ministering angels use.

In communicating with this endearment, G-d does so only with Moshe. The rest of the nation could not hear. Meaning, that this was a prophecy to which only Moshe was privy. Rashi says: “The voice [of G-d] would go, and reach Moshe’s ears, and all of Israel would not hear it.” Rashi continues: “One might have thought that there was a ‘calling’ at breaks (i.e. the breaks in the text indicated by blank spaces).” One might have thought that a break indicates the beginning of a new and distinct prophecy which would be preceded with a new “calling”. The Torah teaches us that no, only when G-d actually speaks is it a new prophecy, but the breaks do not indicate a new prophecy. (This is the explanation of the Mizrachi, translated by Artscroll.)

If the breaks in the text did not serve the purpose of indicating a new and distinct prophecy, what purpose then did the breaks in the text serve? Rashi continues: “to give Moshe the time for contemplation of one parsha and the next, and between one topic to another. קל וחומר  (all the more so) that time between subjects is necessary for a הדיוט (an ordinary person) who learns from another הדיוט.”

Rashi, quoting the Torat Kohanim (1:3), explains that G-d gave Moshe the time to contemplate and to understand the subject, and from the rule of kal vachomer we learn that ordinary people must also give and be given that time to contemplate.

The Taz in Divrei David (a commentary on Rashi) asks: still, what is the point of the breaks? Obviously Hashem has the ability to give Moshe the wisdom to contemplate quickly, thus mitigating the need for the breaks. We learn from this, explains the Taz, that one cannot rely solely on mental acuity and intellectual prowess, and that even wisest among us must still give themselves the proper time for contemplation.

However, one could ask, what is the logic and reasoning behind this kal vachomer? We can understand that while Moshe was the greatest prophet to have ever risen, and was master of all wisdoms, perhaps even he needed that time to contemplate when learning from G-d Himself. When learning the Torah from G-d, Whose wisdom cannot be fathomed, His essence cannot be grasped, and His grandiosity cannot be comprehended, of course Moshe would need the time to properly digest the concepts. But, who is to say that in the case of two “ordinary” people, where both are on the same level, that time must be given for the other to comprehend? What is the proof of the Torat Kohanim?

In truth we have to ask, what is the intention of the Torat Kohanim? Is it trying to tell us that due to the “lack” of the student we must give the רווח (space) to understand? I.e. the requirement to give time stems from the lack of the student. Or perhaps it is telling us that when a teacher teaches, whether or not the student is lacking, he must be careful to teach in a way that the students have the ability to comprehend. If it is due to the lack on the part of the student, then our question stands. But if the Torat Kohanim is giving an exhortation about the mark of a good teacher – that a teacher is lacking in not giving ample time for his students to comprehend – then we have our answer. From the fact that G-d gives Moshe – the most wise and humble of the prophets – the time to contemplate, we can learn that in our dealings, as “ordinary people” we must present our ideas in a way for them to be comprehended.

This idea can be helpful in a myriad of aspects of teaching, including how loud one projects, how slowly one speaks, or a hundred other pedagogical methods which can aid the clarity of the message and comprehension of the student. But this is also a powerful lesson regarding the most basic underpinning of teaching: the teacher’s mindset and motivation for teaching.

A Rebbe is not there for himself; his objectives in teaching should be based solely on the comprehension of the students. And, barring other factors, if the student is not understanding, then he has failed his mission. For if they are not understanding, what is being accomplished?! That the Rebbe himself said a good shiur? That he felt honored? That he understood the subject?

I was once talking to someone who had a thirteen-year-old son in a “top tier” Yeshiva High School, and he was decrying the amount of sources and analytical approaches the teacher was “cramming” into the students. He felt his son was not understanding. This father, who himself is a tremendous Talmid Chacham, told me that he was not the only one; other parents had also expressed concern that their children were not comprehending. When the parents finally mustered the strength to talk to the Rebbe, he responded, “I teach the students on the level where I am holding. I was the top of my class, and I want them to witness true scholarship.”

When I heard this, I was blown away. How is it possible for someone, who has been entrusted with the holy task of חינוך (education) to think in such selfish terms? How could he get it so wrong? The truth is that this “Rebbe” is teaching for all the wrong reasons. He is not teaching with the aim of התבוננות and הבנה of his students, which would clearly warrant a tapering down of the level of the shiur. Rather he is involved in a nihilistic and self-serving pursuit under the guise of virtue, all while using the students as his footstool to raise up his own honor. I once heard from a very prominent Rabbi, that this type of teacher would be included in the prohibition of being המתכבד בקלון חברו; for a teacher that neglects the progress of the students, is the same as one who actively degrades them.

Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik זצ״ל would often remark that his favorite title was not Rav, Rosh Yeshiva, or Posek; rather it was מלמד, just a simple teacher, for G-d Himself is called teacher: המלמד תורה לעמו ישראל. Rav Soloveitchik felt that the highest calling, that which emulates G-d himself, is that of a teacher. And we learn from Hashem, in giving that “space” to Moshe to contemplate and comprehend, a demonstration of the proper way to accomplish the holiest of tasks – teaching Torah, with the holiest goal: to better the student.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Vayakhel - Pekudei: A Symbolic Connection

This week’s parsha, in continuing the theme of previous parshiot, recounts the steps and actions toward the building of the Mishkan. Among the vessels described is the Kiyor – the washing basin from which the Kohanim would purify their hands and feet before starting their service in the Beit Hamikdash.

In previous instances, when mentioning the Kiyor, the Torah does not tell us of the source of the material with which it was made, until now. The Torah says: “He [Betzalel] made the Kiyor of copper and its pedestal of copper, with the mirrors of the woman who congregated at the entrance of the tent of meeting” (Shemot 38:8). Rashi, sourcing himself in the Midrash Tanchuma, explains the significance of this information: “The daughters of Israel had in their possession copper mirrors which they would look into when they would beautify themselves…When their husbands would be exhausted by the racking labor they would go and bring them food and drink…they would entice their husbands to desire and would conceive with them and give birth there.”

Rashi continues that Moshe initially rejected the offering from the women because they were made for the “evil inclination,” but G-d demands that the offering be accepted for “these are dearest to Me of all, for through them, the woman established many legions of offspring in Egypt.”

Like we have seen many times before, there is always something very deep behind the back-and-forths between Moshe Rabbeinu and G-d; there is a lesson to be gleaned and a philosophy to be expressed. So too here, it is worthwhile to delve a bit into the dynamics at play.

What was Moshe’s initial thought process that caused him to reject the offering of mirrors from the women? And what about G-d’s response explains why He not only commanded for them to be accepted, but even says that they are the most precious to Him?

When one takes a closer look at the original source of Rashi, the Midrash Tanchuma (Pikudei:9), we are struck with the intensity with which Moshe refused to accept the mirrors. The Midrash uses the word (זעף (ס״א נזף, which can be translated as “rage.” Seemingly, Moshe’s refusal to accept the mirrors was not out of personal preference. Rather, Moshe’s reaction suggests his rejection was based on the perception of an inherent incongruence between the mirrors and the Mishkan. What is the problem with including the mirrors in the Mishkan? What could cause such a visceral response?

I would like to propose that when the woman brought the mirrors, Moshe’s reaction was directed towards the idea of taking objects that are used to facilitate human procreation and “mixing” them with the most holy of structures that man has created, with the holiest of purposes: to house G-d Himself in this finite world. If we were to think about this deeply, we would understand that in a sense, the act of procreation is the most basic testament to man’s limited nature. The clearest delineation between man and G-d is G-d’s נצחיות – immortality. For if man were a God, he would not need self-preservation to ensure the future of his name. The need to procreate is a byproduct of man’s mortality. Moshe found the coupling of these things (i.e. the concepts of the Mishkan and the mirrors) to be incongruent. He rejected the inclusion of the mirrors because he saw them as a symbol of the finitudes of man.

Hakadosh Baruch Hu response to Moshe is: Accept them, for these are more precious to Me than all the other vessels, for through them the woman established offspring for the nation in Egypt.

As previously stated, the women used the mirrors to entice their husbands to have relations. Despite the burden of slavery and the atrocities foisted upon the nation, the woman did this because they did not lose hope in the future redemption that G-d had promised them. The women’s faith, shown through the mirrors, were not representative of man’s limitations, but rather were symbols of the deeply felt faith in G-d’s providence, even in the darkest of times. The mirrors were transformed into a mark of humanity rising up into a bond with the Divine. When man connects to G-d, he surpasses his limitations and connects to the Infinite. This is perfectly congruent with the concept of the Mishkan and so came G-d’s demand to accept the offering.

Perhaps this is why of all things, the mirrors were converted into the washing basin for the Kohanim. The Kiyor was used to purify the Kohanim, who would serve as the emissaries between the people and G-d in a personal connection of devotion, thus coupling Man and G-d in a special union. The Kiyor would forever serve as a symbol and reminder of G-d’s desire to connect with man in this world, and of the nation’s undying faith in His promises.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Ki Tisa - The Humble Servant

This week’s parsha tells of the difficult episode of the sin of the Golden Calf. Moshe ascends Mount Sinai to receive the two tablets, while his student Yehoshua waits at the bottom. Moshe comes down, and Yehoshua tells him, “The sound of battle is in the camp.” Moshe responds, “It is not the sounds of shouting of might nor the sound of shouting of weakness; a distressing sound do I hear!” (Shemot 32:17-18).

The Ramban comments that Moshe was a master of all wisdoms, including the wisdom of sounds, thus he could easily discern what type of sound it was. In light of this, Moshe knew exactly what he was hearing. If so, why did Moshe speak in such vague terms? Why didn’t Moshe state what really was going on? The Ramban explains that although Moshe did in fact know what the noise was, in his great humility, he did not want to speak badly about the people in saying they were worshipping the Golden Calf.

Although not speaking negatively about others may be a great virtue, what makes it a showing of great humility? Wouldn’t that be more accurately described as practicing the virtue of silence, or the strength of “holding back”? Moreover, in this instance, doesn’t Moshe have a valid reason to speak badly about them? Didn’t the nation just receive the Torah from G-d Himself – and yet is already transgressing Hashem's laws? Seemingly there is more than enough justification to criticize them. What connection is there between the trait of humility and refraining from correctly criticizing the Nation?

From the actions of Moshe we can learn a tremendous lesson; that even though one may be correct in his disapproval of another, he must still keep quiet. A person doesn't need to be right if it will come along with being disrespectful or derogatory. What is the is point of being right, if it will bring about nothing positive and further risk adding fuel to the fire? If Moshe had said something derogatory at this point, no one would have blamed him; on the contrary, he was more than justified! But, out of humility, he instead chose to be silent about the transgression, not to draw attention to it, for the sake of Klal Yisrael. I heard personally from the Rosh Yeshiva Rav Yechiel Yitzchak Perr shlit”a a line that serves as a beautiful sum-up of this lesson. He said: “Life is not about being right, it is about being a good loser.” Remaining silent, and being the “loser,” can often be the greatest victory.

However, this ability to remain silent and to hold back the innate need show that we are right, can only come if one has worked on his humility. Through humility, one comes to the realization that only G-d runs the world, and therefore he can accept that not everything will go his way. (Actually, when things don't go our way, it's the biggest proof that it’s G-d who runs the world!) He has no need to to “come out on top” or “get the last word in.” This was the “great humility” of Moshe who was עניו מכל אדם. He was able to hold back, and from this great act of humility came great kindness as well.

The Gemara in Nedarim (38a) says that when Hashem commanded Moshe to carve the second tablets, G-d intended only to give it to Moshe and his offspring. As it says, “Carve for yourself (לך), two tablets of stone like the first ones.” The Gemara learns from “לך” that it means: to you [Moshe], and not to Klal Yisrael. But, the Gemara continues, Moshe had a טובת עין; he looked at Klal Yisrael favorably and gave the Torah to them as well. From this Gemara we get further insight into the greatness of Moshe. He could have kept the whole Torah for himself and his children, but because he saw goodness in everyone, he chose to share it with them. Moshe was a true servant of G-d in every way.

The meaning of being an עבד ה׳ (a servant of G-d) is to make His will our will, and His desires our desires (Avot 2:4); we should want to sanctify His name among the world and bring more honor to His kingdom. Moshe understood that ultimately it was Hashem's will for the entire Nation to receive the Torah, and therefore, being the greatest servant, he gave it to them. Through his humility, the self abnegation and complete ביטול of his רצונות in the face of G-d’s Will, Moshe was able to come to a true alignment with G-d's ultimate desire. Because it is through relinquishing our image of the way the world “should” be, and accepting G-d’s complete dominion, that we are then able to truly discern the will of Providence.

This explains why Moshe didn’t speak derogatorily about the nation when they served the golden calf. He intuited that it was the ultimate will of Hashem to give the Torah to the Jews. Knowing this, how could he speak badly about the nation that is so beloved to Hashem? The humility of Moshe combined with his ayin tova allowed him to act, not based on his natural emotional response to the situation, but in light of a bigger picture. A picture that would bring the most honor to his Master.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Tetzaveh - G-d’s Ambassadors

This week’s parsha comes off the heels of last week’s recounting of the building of the Mishkan, and features the making of the Bigdei Kehuna – the Priestly Vestments. The Torah goes to great lengths to explain in detail the processing of each vestment, for they shall serve “for glory and for splendor” (Shemot 28:2). No changes in the garments are allowed. They are set aside specially for Aharon and his offspring.

For years I have pondered the following question: we find many passages in the Torah where most, if not all the laws are only applicable to Kohanim. Some aspects are not only inapplicable to a זר (non-Kohen), but are even prohibited to them. In light of this, why did Hashem include these laws in the Torah for all of Klal Yisrael? Why didn’t He instead just give these laws separately to the Kohanim? Or perhaps G-d could have decreed a special mitzvah for only a Kohen to study these particular sections. Yet all Jews are required to delve into the intricacies of these laws. Why is it that those of us who are not Kohanim have no less of a commandment to study these parshiot than do the Kohanim?

The Gemara in Nedarim (35b) features an intriguing discussion based on the following difficulty: if one makes an oath that he will not derive any benefit from a specific Kohen, can that same Kohen offer a Korban on behalf of the oath-maker? Meaning, is having the Kohen bring a sacrifice for him considered “benefitting” from this particular Kohen? To resolve the difficulty the Gemara asks a fascinating question. What are Kohanim – i.e. on whose behalf do they act? Are they שלוחי דידן – the people's emissaries, or שלוחי דשמיא – emissaries of Heaven. If a Kohen is the people’s emissary, then it is considered as if he is bringing benefit to the one who made the oath. However, if the Kohen is Heaven's emissary, then the act of bringing the sacrifice is not considered as being done for the benefit of the owner of the animal. Rather, it is for Hashem, and therefore not a violation of the original oath. In conclusion, the Gemara resolves that a Kohen is an emissary of Heaven.

The question of the Gemara is fascinating, because it goes straight to the core and essence of the definition of a Kohen. The Kohen is, in a sense, a physical representation of the concept of G-d’s holiness in this world. Just As G-d is holy and pure, so too a Kohen is commanded to remain holy and pure his entire life. He is charged with the obligation to not become defiled from impurity and to devote his life to service in the Beit Hamikdash. This is the purpose of the Kohen; to be an emissary of Hashem to the Jewish people.

We can now understand why the rest of the people are expected to learn laws which only seem applicable to Kohanim. For although the Kohanim are a separate, distinct group within the nation, their main purpose is to be a physical representation of holiness to the people. We are meant to learn and observe their ways and to apply what we see to our own lives. Therefore, we have no less of an obligation to understand the principles that guide the Kohen towards a life of holiness.

Furthermore, the concept of being an emissary of G-d is not exclusive to Kohanim; it can be actualized by the rest of the nation as well. G-d has designated us as His עם הנבחר – the Chosen people – and we too are representatives and ambassadors for Him in this world. We are all charged with being aware of the obligation to retain our purity and holiness. This is the underlying idea behind making a קידוש השם, where our very actions bring honor to His name, because they are a reflection of G-d Himself. It is a great responsibility, one which we should take seriously and merit to be able to do properly.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Terumah - To Dwell Among Us

In this week’s parsha, God commands the nation to “make me a sanctuary – so that I may dwell among them” (Shemot 25:8). The people are inspired and contribute to the cause.

The Psikta recounts an amazing occurrence. When the decree came down to Moshe for the nation to build a sanctuary, Moshe shook and exclaimed, “How can man make a house for G-d?!” And God answered, “Not according to My capabilities do I ask, rather according to man’s capabilities.” From this the Chofetz Chaim concludes, that G-d does not unfairly critique man for his shortcomings, rather He asks only that we try, to the best of our abilities.

I would like to focus on the intriguing back-and-forth between Hakadosh Baruch Hu and Moshe. Firstly, why is Moshe “shaken”? What is so shocking about Hashem’s request to build a Mishkan? If one were to answer that the reason for Moshe’s great astonishment was that he found it so difficult to fathom the concept of G-d manifesting Himself in this world, then we can still ask: why he so shocked now? Didn't the Shechina previously come down at Har Sinai (19:20)? Furthermore, we can ask: what did Hashem respond to Moshe that resolved his question? And finally, what can we glean from G-d’s response?

I would like to suggest that Moshe's shock was rooted in a deep and fundamental question of the essence of G-d. The Greek and Roman philosophers wrestled with a question: if G-d is so holy and lofty, how can He be concerned with the “lowly” ways of man? Man is inherently physically limited, debased with desires and selfish needs. Aristotle's concept of G-d, “The Prime Mover,” was that of an unfeeling, removed Power that was involved in deep Self-contemplation, (The Middle Platonism by John Dillon - Cornell University Press 1977) something totally disconnected from the base thoughts of man.

The overarching question of the time was: How can G-d, who is יושב במרום, and dwells in the supernal realms, be “concerned” with the ways of man? Different philosophers of the era arrived at two separate and distinct responses: either that G-d is in fact so holy that He is removed from the lowly activities of man, or that the gods were made in the image of man, and were just as debased, selfish and petty as man as well.

Obviously, Judaism has a wholly different understanding of the essence of G-d. This understanding is from G-d Himself. And we can see this totally divergent idea from the Psikta quoted above. In responding to Moshe G-d says: “Not according to My capabilities do I ask, rather according to man’s capabilities.” G-d was in essence telling Moshe that not only does He not ask more from what man is capable of, and not only is He interested in our actions, but He desires to dwell among us too! This is, I believe, the depth and beauty of G-d’s call to man “Make me a sanctuary.”

This idea can perhaps elucidate for us another issue once raised by a student of mine. Human civilizations have for millennia been engaged in building centers of worship, altars, and great monuments to their idols. Some archeological digs have even unearthed ruins that have had a similar floor plan to the Mishkan. The student was bothered by this, wondering what makes the endeavor of the Jewish people so unique? Perhaps the Jews in the desert were just like any other developing nomadic tribe that felt a bond through building a communal altar to worship, similar to Stonehenge in England, or the Ziggurats in Mesopotamia and other similar feats of architecture. What made the Mishkan, and by proxy the Jewish people, any different?

I heard from the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yechiel Perr Shlit”a the following idea: The history of mankind is rife with man’s desire to reach out to G-d, as evidenced through the buildings, monuments and altars that they made. However, the Mishkan marked the first time that G-d reached out to man with “Make me a sanctuary.” This made the Mishkan a different structure entirely, at its core; for while the building is coming from man’s actions, it is due to G-d’s directive. The call to build G-d a sanctuary infuses its every vessel with sanctity. Now it becomes elevated to a G-dly level. So while it may look the same as other “sanctuaries”, and it may have been built similarly, its essence was not anything of this world.

This is an important lesson for us, as we should know and strengthen this idea that G-d is not only interested in our lives, but wishes to “dwell” within them. As Alshich states:

ועשו לי מקדש ושכנתי בתוכם: בכל אחד ואחד

G-d desires to dwell within each of us.

We would be wise to open the door to let Him in.

Shabbat Shalom