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

Parshat Mishpatim - A Balanced Perspective

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

Who is this “someone you hate”? Surely it is forbidden to hate a fellow Jew! Rather, Chazal in Pesachim (113b) explain that this refers to someone who it is in fact permitted (even obligated) to hate, meaning someone who sins consistently, despite protestations and warnings, and 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, cites our verse as the source that it is from the Torah (and so rules the majority of the Rishonim). From here we see that despite the fact that the owner is wicked and is not considered part of the nation, nonetheless we still help with the burden. For although it may be a mitzvah to hate this wilful sinner, it is not a mitzvah to cause pain to the animal – it is prohibited.

We can learn a tremendous lesson from this: 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 override 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 heavy doses of 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.

The ability to apply a principle appropriately can only come when one has clarity of perspective, takes in the whole of the scenario and is able to correctly prioritize competing values. He must be able to approach each case 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? Renowned economist Thomas Sowell calls this attitude of intervention and consideration of these elements “The Quest for Cosmic Justice.” Is this not justice? Isn’t this what G-d would want? No! The Torah calls this way of thinking 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.

The ability to judge each person equally can only come when the judge has fashioned his mind and שכל to not allow outside factors to cloud his judgment, and instead is able to ignore and compartmentalize the “other” factors. 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 and 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

Parshat Yitro - Enduring Inspiration

In this week’s parsha, the Jews, as G-d’s chosen people, are officially established as a fearsome force among the nations. After decimating Egypt and defeating Amalek, they begin their journey through the desert. The Torah tells us of Yitro, the father-in-law of Moshe: “And Yitro, Priest of Midian, Moshe's father-in-law, heard about all that Hashem had done for Moshe and for His people Israel, when Hashem brought Israel out of Egypt” (Shemot 18:1). “Yitro came to Moshe with his sons and wife, to the Wilderness where he was encamped, by the Mountain of G-d” (ibid. 5).

Interestingly, the Torah finds it necessary to inform us that the Jews were encamped in the wilderness; don’t we already know? Rashi, of course, notes this and quotes the Mechilta which explains: "We, too, know that they were in the wilderness [is this not obvious?] Rather, in the praise of Yitro does Scripture speak: for he [Yitro] was living amidst worldwide honor, yet his heart inspired him to go out into the wilderness, a desolate place (מקום תהו), for the purpose of hearing words of Torah.”

Yitro, as Rashi explains, was overcome with so much emotion from hearing all the miracles that Hashem performed for the Nation, that although he was one of the most respected members of the world, he abandoned his life of luxury to go to a place of desolation, a “מקום תהו”. To get an image of the concept of “tohu,” we find in Bereishit that the same term is used to explain what the world was like before creation: “תוהו ובהו” – “unformed and desolate.” From this we see the extent to which the word can connote literally nothing, and yet still Yitro was willing to go there to hear words of Torah. This was the power of his inspiration; it allowed him to look past the impediments of the desert. It drove him out of a life of security and comfort to join the Jewish people in the wilderness, a place fraught with danger and discomfort. All this to become a part of Hashem’s chosen Nation.

However, further on in the parsha we are struck with a tremendous difficulty. When Yitro reaches the encampment of the Nation, Moshe comes to greet him. Moshe begins to tell him of all the miracles that Hashem performed for Klal Yisrael. Again Rashi (ibid. 8) quotes the Mechilta to explain why Moshe felt it important relate this to Yitro, as we already know that Yitro had heard of the miracles G-d did in Egypt for the nation (that is what brought him there). Moshe intended not to inform Yitro, but rather: “In order to draw his [Yitro’s] heart to bring him closer to the Torah.”

Why must Moshe draw him closer to Torah? We were just told that Yitro gave up everything he had and came to the Midbar to learn Torah and join the ranks of the Jewish people! What is Moshe trying to accomplish here?

The Mechilta describes the emotion which overcame Yitro as “ונדבו לבו – Inspiration of the Heart.” As we saw earlier, this inspiration was so powerful that it caused Yitro to change his entire life. To sacrifice wealth, honor and comfort in order to become part of the Jewish people. Clearly this was an overwhelming feeling. However, we are all familiar with the notion that even the strongest emotions can dissipate over time, and once the emotion is lost, we can be found bereft of motivation and direction.

Moshe understood this, and in “bringing Yitro’s heart closer to Torah” once again by discussing the miracles, he wanted to teach Yitro the importance of capitalizing on his feelings of inspiration, by thrusting them into something concrete. As is known, Yitro was coming from a lifestyle of Avodah Zarah and according to the Mechilta (ibid. 11), he had practiced every religion known to man; he moved from one form of worship to the next, never finding lasting satisfaction. He may have experienced exultation and intense inspiration, but once it dissipated, Yitro moved on to the next religion in search of lasting and fulfilling devotion. This is perhaps what brought him to the recognition of G-d. However, Moshe knew that the intense feelings Yitro experienced when finally finding Judaism were not enough, thus necessitating drawing him closer to Torah.

Judaism does not profess to be a “feel-good” religion and it does not claim to offer consistent ecstasy and ascendant euphoria. If one commits, thinking that he will feel constant elation, he may be sorely disappointed. Rather, he will find within it a perfect blend of dedication of mind and heart, a structure built for the ups and downs of everyday life. A commitment to Torah must be independent; it is obligatory even when we lose our original inspiration. Perhaps this is the explanation of the Mechilta: “In order to draw his heart to bring him closer to the Torah.” Not just the heart, but the person himself, so at that inevitable time when the initial inspiration leaves, the true whole person, with his commitment to Torah, will remain. By bringing Yitro closer, Moshe was ensuring that he would continue his upward progress and dedication to Hashem's Torah.

According to this explanation, we can now understand another difficulty: After Moshe retells of all the miracles in Egypt, the Midrash says that Yitro responded: “I was aware of Him in the past but, now, all the more so.” The question is: why now? Didn't Yitro come out to the wilderness with the recognition of Hashem already in mind? In light of what we have said above, while it is true that Yitro already came to the desert with belief in Hashem, his belief was rooted in that initial “fleeting” emotion. Although this inspired him to change his whole life around, it would not be enough to carry him through the long journey ahead. Now that Yitro has firmly established his belief, he can say that he is honestly “more aware of Hashem.”

This idea fits beautifully with an explanation I heard from HaRav Yecheskel Weinfeld Shlit”a of Jerusalem. As Moshe says “all that Hashem had done for them,” he also recounts “all the troubles that had befallen them until now – and that Hashem had refused them” (ibid. 9). Why does Moshe offer this as well? What is he trying to accomplish? Rav Weinfeld explains that Moshe did this in order to fulfill the injunction in Halacha to dissuade the Gentile from converting. The Gemara (Yevamot 47a-b) says, “Our Rabbis taught: If a [prospective] convert comes to convert nowadays, we say to him/her: ‘Why do you desire to convert? Do you not know that Israel at the present time is persecuted and oppressed, despised, harassed and overcome by afflictions?’” Thus, by telling Yitro of the troubles that the Nation travailed, Moshe was testing his commitment to G-d, to ingrain in him that even when things will become difficult he is prepared to remain.

We see from Yitro the importance of taking our moments of inspiration and making them into a concrete reality in our lives. Motivation towards full belief in G-d may begin as a feeling, but unless one builds upon it to come to a consistent plateau, it will not carry him through life. Only once he does this essential work can he proclaim a deep and real belief in Hashem and His Torah.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Beshalach - Journeying Forth

This week's parsha brings us to the release of the Jewish people from the bonds of servitude, finally free to serve their G-d. After hurrying to leave Egypt, the nation is pursued by Pharaoh and his army who are bent on bringing them back; they are virtually trapped, with the Egyptians behind them and the sea blocking them in front. The nation panics, crying out to Hashem to save them.

Moshe, hearing the people's fear, gives them words of encouragement saying: “Do not fear! Stand fast and see the salvation of Hashem that He will perform for you today…Hashem shall make war for you, and you shall remain silent.” (14:13-14)

Now Hashem speaks to Moshe saying, “Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the people and let them journey forth!” (ibid. 15) Rashi comments that we see from G-d’s response that Moshe was praying to G-d. G-d criticizes Moshe for praying for help, as now was not the time for lengthy prayers, when the people are in peril.

The commentators ask: Why is G-d upset with Moshe’s praying for salvation? Is that not the most natural and proper response one should have when one finds himself in danger? There is a famous dispute between the Rambam and the Ramban (ספר המצוות - מצוה ה׳) regarding the obligatory nature of prayer; whether the daily obligation is a Torah injunction or a Rabbinic one. The Ramban (who in fact asked the above question) is of the opinion that although daily tefillah is Rabbinic, it is a Torah obligation when one is בשעת צרה – in a state of distress. So seemingly, according to this opinion, it is not just the natural response to a calamity, but a Torah obligation!

Furthermore, the words of encouragement that of Moshe offers are seemingly circumspect. Moshe is assuaging their doubts in G-d, for the nation cried out complaining, “Were there no graves in Egypt that you took us to die in the wilderness? What is this that you have done to us to take us out of Egypt?” (ibid. 12) While the nation is clearly showing their fears, they are expressing thoughts and ideas which border on heresy! They are accusing Hashem of taking them out to kill them in the wilderness – the same G-d Who just smote the Egyptians with devastating plagues is now sadistically planning to destroy them for no reason?! Clearly their situation is very grave, and Moshe, having heard this, would have been quite right to pray on their behalf! So again, why is G-d upset with Moshe's prayer?

The Sforno gives an interesting explanation which shows the connection between Moshe’s encouragement of the people and his praying to Hashem. The Sforno tells us that Moshe prayed and cried out to G-d, not in fear of the impending army of Pharaoh, but rather due to witnessing a lack of faith in the people. After hearing them express their fears, Moshe thought the people would not trust in G-d’s salvation. He was concerned that they would not obey the command to enter into the Sea. In regards to this did G-d reply to Moshe saying: “Why do you cry out to me! Do not falsely accuse this nation! Do not lose faith in them! Tell them to journey forth, and you will see that they will listen!” G-d, the Sforno explains, was not pleased with Moshe having doubted the Jewish people – that even though they expressed such extreme fears, Moshe should have believed in the nation that they would obey the command, a demonstration of their ultimate trust in G-d.

There is much to be gleaned from this Sforno, but what is most powerful for me is the message that Hashem is sending us: life is not static, we can find ourselves fluctuating between feelings of confidence, and those of stagnation and uncertainty. We can even begin to doubt ourselves and our commitments. Yet we must remain steadfast in the constant belief and knowledge that we are capable of anything – but not because we believe in ourselves, rather because G-d Himself believes in us! Despite what doubts we have expressed and difficulties we have encountered, we are still always beloved to Him. Even at the darkest of moments when we may have given up and unfortunately resorted to lashing out at G-d, He has not given up on us. For He knows that when given the chance, we will rise to the occasion and “Journey forth.”

This is a powerful and inspiring message for anyone, be they a teacher, a student, a parent, a child, or a spouse. We can never lose hope or give up on ourselves or anyone else, because Hashem Himself does not allow it. This message should strengthen us in our weaker moments, and shine for us in our strongest moments, for we are capable of anything.

Shabbat Shalom