Parshas Acharei Mos-Kedoshim: Holiness and Our Parents

The double parsha of Acharei Mos- Kedoshim begins with Hashem’s instructions for Aaron (and any future kohain gadol) on the process of attaining atonement for the Jewish people.  As is well known, the Biblical Yom Kippur service required Aaron to take two goats, one for an offering and the other to receive the sins of Bnei Yisrael and then be cast off a mountain. The Torah describes the process thus: “Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat and confess over it all the iniquities and transgressions of the Israelites, whatever their sins, putting them on the head of the goat; and it shall be sent off to the wilderness through a designated agent” (Vayikra 16:21).

 

Kol avonos Bnei Yisrael – all of the sins of Bnei Yisrael. How in the course of this one ritual could the kohain gadel confess ALL of the sins of Bnei Yisrael? Unfortunately, that would probably take a lot of time. Chizkuni explains, citing Sifre, that the kohain gadol would make a general statement saying: “The Children of Israel committed inadvertent sins, deliberate sins as well as sins reflecting their obstinacy against the Lord.”

 

The ritual was fulfilled by a blanket statement covering every type of aveira because every type of aveira transgressed the defining mitzva of the second parsha of the week: Kodeshim tiheeyu, holy you shall be, and it continues “for holy am I, the Lord your God” (19:2).  The commandment to be holy is a complicated one given that to be holy like Hashem requires a level of perfection that most individual humans cannot even imagine.

 

Parshas Kedoshim then includes an extensive list of mitzvos. Actually, the parsha contains the commandment for holiness in two places. First in the pasuk cited above and again in the next Perek: “You shall sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I, Hashem, am your God. You shall faithfully observe My laws: I, Hashem, make you holy” (20:7-8). It is interesting to note then, that both commandments to be holy are followed by references to halachos of kibbud av v’aim. Vayikra 19:3 says: “Each man you shall revere his mother and his father, and My Sabbaths you shall observe.” Vayikra 20:9: “If anyone curses his father or his mother, that person shall be put to death; that person has cursed his father or his mother—and retains the bloodguilt.”

 

These two mitzvos are a fascinating reflection of the rest of the mitzvos of Parshas Kedoshim in that they included commandments that are both positive and negative. This is, perhaps, an excellent reminder that in our work on being holy, we should neither be fully about restrictions nor only about action. The Torah provides a structure of balance, as well as a recognition that the human condition is…complicated.

 

Think about it: If I revere my mother and my father, fulfilling the first mitzvah, then it seems impossible that I should ever come to curse my parents. All too often, however, life puts us on unforeseen paths that lead us to unexpected situations.

 

But why kibbud av v’aim? Why is this mitzvah so strongly connected to the commandment to be holy? Perhaps we should look at it from the perspective of the famous gemara that says that there are three partners in the creation of a human being – the father, the mother, and Hashem. Thus how we treat our parents is a reflection of our relationship to Hashem. (The optimal word here is “treat,” and this is not to suggest that one must accept an abusive or negative parental relationship. However, even in a negative situation, one can still remember the basic level of hakaras hatov to those who gave one life.) If one cannot treat their parents with some level of reverence for having given them life, for having raised them to adulthood, for having instilled in them the basic morals and mores of being a good person, how can one hope to have the proper reverence to emulate Hashem?

 

How one treats one’s parents is also a significant indication of how one treats other people. The mitzvos listed in Parshos Kedoshim makes clear that the Torah ideal of being holy is firmly rooted in bein adam l’chavero, interpersonal mitzvos. A person’s first and most ongoing interpersonal relationship is, normally, with one’s parents. And while childhood and teenagehood may be fraught with the natural battle for independence, once a person emerges into adulthood, they should be able to see and understand the inherent value of that relationship. A person who demonstrates generosity to the poor and restraint in judgements but who has no boundaries of behavior in this primal relationship cannot attain holiness because they are lacking a fundamental value.

 

Kodeshim tihiyu ki kadosh ani Hashem E-lo-keichem, holy you shall be because holy am I Hashem your God, is also understood to infer that attaining holiness is possible because of Bnei Yisrael’s inherent relationship with Hashem. The relationship comes from our parents. We can be holy because our parents, and our parents’ parents, and our parents’ parents’ parents, and etc, strove to maintain their relationship with the Divine. For while ““The Children of Israel committed inadvertent sins, deliberate sins as well as sins reflecting their obstinacy against the Lord,” they continued, throughout the generations, to strive toward the ultimate goal of being an am kadosh.

Parshas Tzav – Preparations

Perhaps the most honest statement a person today could express about this week’s parsha, and many of the parshios in Sefer Vayikra, is a confession of ignorance. We can imagine the sensations of holiness. We can conceptualize the ebb and flow of the offerings. We can discuss every detail of the necessary prayers and rituals. But, in truth, for most of us of the modern era (and even the not so modern era), the actuality of bringing live animals to a priest for him to slaughter and cut up and burn is extremely foreign. Indeed, as residents of a Western culture, one might even feel a negative taint to the concept - perhaps because we have come so far from being an agrarian society.

 

So what can one share in a Dvar Torah on the parshios of Sefer Vayikra? The sanctified rituals of the holy offerings may be distant from us, but the work of avodah is not. We may not serve Hashem in the same way as our ancestors, but we dedicate ourselves to His service in ways unique and significant to our own generation.

 

Parshas Tzav includes a description of Aaron and his sons’ investiture into the priesthood. This meant Moshe dressing them in their special garments and anointing them. This meant Moshe preparing offerings and burning them. This meant Moshe anointing the priests again, this time with oil mixed with blood from the altar, before they then consume the sacrificial meats.

 

The investiture of Aaron and his sons into the priesthood meant Aaron and his sons being instructed to remain in the Ohel Moed for seven days: “…until the day of the completion of your investiture days, he will inaugurate you for seven days. Everything done today, Hashem has commanded to be done [seven days], to make expiation for you. You shall remain at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting day and night for seven days, keeping Hashem’s charge—that you may not die—for so I have been commanded.” (8:33-35).

 

In order for Aaron and his sons to go through the full process of investiture, to achieve the full level sanctification, they must repeat the process dictated in Parshas Tzav for seven days. This week-long preparation resonates in particular at this time of year when our lives are full of preparation and repetition. Clean a room, and clean it again, and clean it again until the final check. Detailed preparation and waiting… waiting to get to a point of being able to perform our ritual celebrating the freedom of becoming Avdei Hashem.

 

Our avodah, particularly at this time of year, doesn’t necessarily feel like the concept of avodah discussed in the Torah. We talk about our tefilla being the equivalent to the avodah in the Beis Hamikdash. That is avodah as service, but avodah also means work. In the first half of Nissan, whether you are working on preparing your house or reviewing and mastering all of the laws of the holiday, the work is real, and real work can feel tedious and repetitive, especially when one studies the same texts year after year. But such repetitiveness plays an important role in our preparations.

Aaron and his sons spent seven days going through the same service in order to prepare themselves to be the spiritual leaders of klal Yisrael. Every day they were dressed in their vestements, and everyday they listened to Moshe instruct them on the rites of the sacrifice, and everyday they ate the meat of the sacrifices that Moshe brought. These were men chosen out for their spiritual greatness. These were people who had already been working on preparing themselves for their roles.  How easy it would have been for them to get frustrated at the repetition of their passive roles during these seven days. “And Aaron and his sons did all the things that Hashem had commanded through Moses” (8:36).

 

The process of preparation has its own level of significance and importance. For each day that they stayed in the Ohel and repeated the process of the day before, they garnered a more profound understanding of their responsibilities. Preparation is never just a means to an end, but rather a process unto itself. It may get frustrating. It may be challenging. But it must be viewed for its own inherent purpose and benefit.

 

There are many people who rejoice at the idea of going away for Pesach. The idea of not spending hours cleaning multiple rooms or “turning over” the kitchen seems enviable, and yet there are few Jews one would meet who do nothing to prepare their homes, because the process, too, is part of the celebration.

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas, and a Pesach that is kasher and sameach and spiritually uplifting.

 

Parshas Vayikrah - Just Salt Here

My children tend to use an excessive amount of salt in their food. No matter what is served, their first instinct seems to be to grab the salt-shaker and pour. In a world where the supermarket offers a diverse selection of salts, they are generally out of touch with the incredible properties of this mineral.

In Parshas Vayikra, salt is mentioned in one pasuk - which, in a parsha that seems quite repetitious in its wording, should draw our attention. “And all of your meal offerings you shall salt; you shall not omit the salt of the covenant with your God, with all of your offerings you shall offer salt” (Vayikra 2:13).

Vayikra 2, where this verse is found, is a discussion of the Mincha offering, which accompanied the sacrifices. The mincha offering was a meal offering that was generally composed of flour, oil, and frankincense.. and, it seems, salt.

Commentators such as Rabbi Shimshon Rephael Hirsh make it a point to note that there is no bris related to salt but rather that here the Torah is comparing the covenant between Bnei Yisrael and Hashem to salt. The metaphor here is to the preservative nature of salt, which can conserve food for exceptionally long period of time. The bris of Hashem, the Torah and His promises to the Jewish people, is that which sustain us.

Rav Hirsh notes that salt is both a preservative and a corrosive, and, therefore, states: “If we…remember that decay is nothing but the working of the beginning of a new structure, we can take salt generally to represent unchangeableness. It closes an object into itself, and renders it not susceptible to exterior changing influences. To that extent it completely expresses the idea of bris, the basic underlying meaning of which [is]…to be separated and apart, quite independent and unaffected by outside influences.”

There are many fascinating characteristics one can discuss about salt. Most famously, it is an essential element in food preparation, not only because it enhances both taste and texture, but also because it acts as a binder.

 Additionally, when studying the Torah, one finds that salt has a linguistically fascinating feature. The Hebrew word Malach (salt) is a homonym for Malach, which means rule. The covenant between Hashem and Bnei Yisrael, His specific constitution (lhavdeel) for our people, is our preservation. The Torah is ever enduring. One could say further that our minhagim and our traditions are that which enhance the taste and texture of our lives. Finally, the decree to salt is reserved for the mincha offering, for the offering that accompanied almost every other type of sacrifice, because the karbanos bound us to Hashem and raised up our love for Him.

 We do not have a Beis Hakidash today, and we may have a hard time envisioning the actual offering of the avodah. Nevertheless, we place the salt upon our tables and we dip our challah in salt so that we, too, can be constantly reminded of the incredible power of the Torah and the ever-enduring relationship of Hashem and His people.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshas Bechukosai – A Metallic Metaphor

 Parshas Bechukosai starts with a promise of bracha – of rains in their time and peace in the land – if Bnei Yisrael will follow Hashem’s mitzvos. If, however, Bnei Yisrael does not follow in Hashem’s ways, then Bechukosai presents a detailed and awful list of consequences. Among the descriptive terms is one verse that is particularly perplexing: “I will break the pride of your might. I will make your heaven like iron and your land like copper” (12:19).

 This verse, which is meant to instill fear, begins the second level of punishment; These are the consequences if Bnei Yisrael doesn’t heed the panic and the disease and the fevers, the famine and the violence, all of which is their first warning of being terribly off track. But what does this verse mean? Beyond a basic threat, what purpose does this metallic metaphor serve?

 Rashi notes that the difference between iron and copper is that copper exudes water, while iron does not – and that the combination of dryness in the sky and moisture in the earth, will intensify any famine. And still the question remains. With so many possible words to describe a punishment like drastic change in climate, why this metaphor of iron and copper?

 The common characteristic of most metals is that they are hard – even the soft metals. Iron and copper are utilitarian metals, natural elements that can be transformed and used. The transformation, however, takes great heat and hard pounding. Perhaps Hashem threatens them with making the world iron and copper to remind Bnei Yisrael that it is their own hardness, their own stiff-necked mida, that was the cause of their downfall.

 This suits well with common translation of the first half of the pasuk:  “And I will break the pride of your might.” To be a stiff-necked nation infers that our pride is great, that we place our will at an inflexible height.

 In this pasuk, however the term used for pride is an odd Hebrew word, ge’own. As noted by many commentators, it has within it an inference to the Beis Hamikdash because it can also be translated as majesty or exaltation.  The Kli Yakar points out that in Devarim 28:23, Moshe threatens the opposite - that the heavens will be like copper and the earth like iron. This, the commentator notes, indicates that Vayikra 12:19 is speaking of First Temple because “It is known that iron is harder than copper. In the first Temple Period, their main sin was toward Heaven, through the worship of the stars and the constellations …Therefore the heavens were as hard as iron” (translation via Sefaria).

 When our pride kept us from doing teshuvam from heeding the warning from Hashem, then Hashem destroyed the place where our true pride should have been focused.

 Sometimes it is hard for us to relate to the actuality of the Beis Hamikdash and even harder to grasp the desire for avodah zarah. And if we are not sure whether we still retain the trait of being stiff necked, we do, at least, know that each of us has a yetzer harah to lead us down a path of gaivah (pride) once in awhile.

As Klal Yisrael today, we live in the world after our great punishments, in a seemingly unending era of exile in which we once again see the hatred of the nations festering. Here, in Bechukosai, we have a reminder that we must take down our pride, be flexible in our path in order to truly serve Hashem, and strive to do proper teshuva.

Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Acharei Mos: Protecting the Law

 Parshas Acharei Mos: Protecting the Law

The 18th chapter of Sefer Vayikra begins a section of the Torah in which Hashem dictates a long list of laws for Moshe to give to Bnei Yisrael. It starts with a very important statement that the Children of Israel must not do like the ways of Egypt, the land from which they had come, or the ways of Canaan, the land to which they were heading, “and in their statutes you shall not walk” (Vayikra 18:3). This injunction against assimilation is followed by what, at first, appears to be simple guidance for staying true to the new path Hashem has put before Bnei Yisrael, and yet the two verses that follow are anything but simple when looked at more closely.

 

“My ordinances you shall do, and My statutes shall you keep, to walk therein: I am the Lord your God. You shall keep My statutes and My ordinances, which if a man shall do, he shall live by them: I am the Lord” (18:4-5).

 

Simple, it seems. Do these mitzvos and guard these laws. So why do the verses seem to flip into themselves? Why is there a seeming repetition with a reversal in order? Is it more important to do – ta’asei – or to keep/guard – shamru?

Ordinances, in Hebrew mishapatim, are basic civil laws – laws that one expects to help society as a whole function. Statutes, in Hebrew chukim, on the other hand, are generally defined as laws for which there is no reason or explanation other than that Hashem told us to do them. Given the different definitions, it makes sense that Hashem instructed Moshe to tell the people to do the mishpatim and to guard the chukim. Setting up and maintaining a civil society requires constant action, whereas the more esoteric rules (chukim) require deliberate cultivation and transmission to the next generation.

But why then the seeming repetition? Perhaps we must remember Hashem's eternal omniscience. Hashem knew that we would be sent into exile, that the Jewish people would have to both develop its own kingship/nation and to live under the governance of others. 

What is the difference between doing and guarding, between la’asot and l’shmor. One is not meant to just keep the chukim close to heart, one must also “do” them. Perhaps Vayikra 18:4 should be read as a warning. Setting up a just society, following the Torah’s civil laws, is important, but it is not enough. The civil system must be sublimated to the statutes, to remembering that what may seem right and just may be a false front if it would not be acceptable within the framework of the chukim – and there are many who have noted that, at the end of the day, all mitzvos are chukim, are mitvos that we do because Hashem told us to.

Vayikra 18:5, on the other hand, reflects galus. Mishpatim, the ordinances, are both very easy and very hard. Mishpatim are often thought of as laws that most societies would develop on their own, even without Divine intervention, laws like “do not steal” and “set up courts.” Living in a society based, as they say, on Judeo-Christian traditions, we cannot even fathom life without these basic standards. At the same time, living in a society that asserts itself as following just laws, but law which may not actually be Torahdik, makes it challenging to hold fast to the mitzvos that we know we are to follow if we are to walk in the way of the Torah. Thus Vayikra 18:5, which switches the order of the injunction and states that we must keep (guard) the statutes and the ordinances and if we do so we shall live (individually). In this, it is fair to say, that living means far more than actual physical existence, but rather the true flourishing of our neshamos.

Right and wrong. Good and bad. Fair and unfair. These are terms that society casts about on every issue, without necessarily taking the time to consider who determines the parameters of those judgments. Interestingly, Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch notes on Vayikra 18:3 that “the ways of the land of Egypt and the ways of the land of Canaan seem to designate the social behavior that marked the relation of men to each other in Egypt and Canaan…the former are regulated by state-laws, the latter less by legislation but rather by rules which become sanctified by custom and convention.” For Bnei Yisrael, there can only be one source for the decision of right and wrong, good and bad, fair and unfair, and etc. The source is concisely stated as the conclusion to this set of pasukim: Ani Hashem, I am the Lord. 

In the era of galus, may we all have the strength to truly guard our paths.

Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas. 

Parshass Metzora – The Lesson of the Interruption

 The parshiot of Tazria and Metzora, which are most often read together, are interesting in that they are, one might say, interrupters. In Parsha Shemini, during the dedication of the mishkan, the Torah describes the unexpected and tragic death of Aaron’s two oldest sons. Parshas Acharei Mos, which is the parsha after Metzora, continues that narrative almost as if Tazria and Metzora did not exist.

 

Although it is not explicitly stated, the affliction of tzaraas and being in the state of being a metzora are tied to lashon harah, and this fact is, perhaps, significant given the narrative which it interrupts. Thinking back to Parshas Shemini, one might recall the variation of commentary on why Nadav and Avihu died. Each of these interpretations is based on tradition and textual evidence, and each of them is meant to guide us on how to live life, not simply on critiquing the behavior of Aaron’s sons.  One could, however, imagine the amount of speculation that occurred when the dedication ceremony ended. Perhaps this is the first place where one learns the lesson that one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

 

Vayikra 14, which is the first and dominant perek of Parshas Metzora, first describes the very detailed ritual necessary for one with tzaraas to undergo in order to return to normal life within the settlement of Bnei Yisrael. One would expect this to be the end of the topic of tzaraas, since its appearances and diagnosis were discussed in the previous parsha and here we have the means of purification. The perek, however, continues on to describe what happens when a nega tzaraas,  a plague on a house, appears on a home.

 

There are many interesting, although perhaps strange, concepts attached to the idea of a nega tzaraas. Beyond the idea that a house can be afflicted because of its residents’ behavior, there is the idea that the kohain can minimize the impact of his assessment by pushing off his inspection or by making certain the resident has removed anything he wouldn’t want destroyed before he comes to inspect the affliction. But really, what is fascinating here is the very idea that the consequence of tzaraas, or the impact of lashon harah, goes so much further than an individualized punishment.

 

It is fairly obvious why speaking ill effects both the individual who spoke ill and the person about whom they spoke. It is even obvious how lashon harah can affect those who heard the negative talk, whether first hand or multiple iterations later (which can sometimes be far worse for the distortion). The development of nega tzaraas, of an affliction upon a house, is an important reminder that lashon harah can be detrimental to the very fabric of society, and why it needs to be curtailed as quickly as possible.

 

We today live in a society that is woefully high strung and incredibly willing to accept and react to lashon harah. Fair and just reporting and the opportunity to examine the facts have been buried under that pressure of competition and immediate gratification. In other words, the 24 hour news cycle and social media fire the flames of constant lashon harah.

 

Imagine if Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness existed under 21^st century conditions. Not only would the ceremony dedicating the Mishkan not have been able to carry forward, but within minutes the entire structure of the kahuna (priesthood) might very well have been decimated. Public speculation about why Nadav and Avihu were struck down would have maligned not just the deceased priests, but their father and their brothers as well.

 

There is much commentary on the fact that Aaron continued on with the ceremony after his sons perished, and it would seem a strange narrative to be interrupted by laws that seem to have no connection to either the actions of Nadav and Avihu or the modified reactions of their family. On closer consideration, however, one might see that it is not completely random, that there is yet another valuable lesson to be learned from this narrative. (And, one might even, perhaps, speculate that this is a lesson that had less meaning before we entered the era of social media!)

 

Lashon Harah is complicated… It takes people of tremendous fortitude to truly abstain from it in all forms. Human nature, with ego and jealousy and righteous indignation, constantly finds ways to justify lashon harah. When we remind ourselves of how dire the consequences can be, however, perhaps we are able to strengthen ourselves just a little; perhaps the next time we are on the bring of sharing our judgements we will remember how very detrimental lashon harah can be.

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas and, if I don’t get to post next week, a chag Pesach Kasher v’sameach.

 

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to continued Besoros Tovos and Refuah Shelaimah for Rivka bas Golda.

 

Parsha Tazria - So Many Ways

There are many parshiot in Sefer Vayikra that are difficult for us to truly understand. While Vayikra most often deals with sacrifices and the actions of the kohanim, in parsha Tazria the subject turns to a seemingly mysterious skin ailment for which a person must be isolated outside of the encampment of Bnei Yisrael. This ailment is quite often mistranslated as leprosy, which we now know is a contagious bacterial infection. The actual affliction, tzaraas, has no real English translation.

 

From reading the parsha and the multitude ways in which tzaraas can appear, one might wonder at the frequency of diagnosis. While diagnosis is a medical term, and there are many dermatological medical conditions, tzaraas could only be determined by a kohain. This is important because the source of tzaraas is not viral, bacterial, or auto immune; it is spiritual. Tzaraas is caused by the inimical yet pervasive behavior of lashon harah, speaking badly of others.

 

Lashon Harah is one of the most impactful transgressions of Jewish law. It is famously stated by Hillel that the essence of Torah is “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor: that is the whole Torah while the rest is commentary; go and learn it.” Loshon Harah, or, better, refraining from lashon harah, is critical to this essential dynamic of bein adam l’chavero (interpersonal relationships).

 

The laws of guarding one’s speech are complex and rather extensive. Lashon Harah can be the obvious gossip or verbal denigration of a person, but praising a person publicly can also fall into categories of speech to be cautious of. And this, the complexity of the laws of Lashon Harah, is a fascinating fact when reviewing parshas Tazria.

 

One might expect that a spiritual affliction such as tzaraas to have very clear and obvious symptoms. One might expect one or two fairly consistent descriptions of how the skin blemish would look. And yet, while there is only one perek dedicated to the subject, that perek is 59 pasukim long. The parsha goes on and on… if it looks like this and if it looks like that, if it is on a bald spot and if it is on hair, if it goes away and if it comes back, and etc. For the description of an affliction that must be diagnosed by a priest, that’s an awful lot of detail and variation.

 

When we remember that tzaraas is an affliction that is caused by a spiritual malignancy, by an act that undermines the fabric of interpersonal relationships, perhaps we can better understand why tzaraas is not described in a straight-forward way. Lashon Harah is certainly not straight-forward. If one were simply told not to speak ill of another, one might refrain only from outright statements such as “Jack is a liar.” But Lashon Harah, like tzaraas, is not simple.

 

The Torah does not specify the laws of Lashon Harah, but the lengthy discussion of tzaraas as expressed in the parsha is an excellent indicator of just how varied and complex the source of the disease can be.

 

We today can only imagine what it would be like to live in a world where our physical selves manifest deficiencies in our spiritual selves. Instead, we must put in great effort to guard our tongues and monitor our actions knowing that this is how we not only keep our own neshamos healthy, but how we strengthen klal Yisrael and the whole world.

 

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to continued besoros tovos/refua shelaima for Rivka Bas Golda.

Parshas Tzav - Elevation through Shelamim

I hope that everyone had a wonderful Purim. Being that it is the Friday following Purim, I hope you will all forgive the brevity of today’s piece, as well as the fact that it is off-the-cuff and, perhaps, not as exact as it should be.

 This week’s parasha, Parshas Tzav, continues Sefer Vayikra’s focus on the many types of sacrifices and the particular details of how they are to be offered. As with most of the sefer, great emphasis is put on the actions of the Kohanim. It is, therefore, interesting to note, toward the end of perek 7, the mention of one sacrifice in which the one who offers the sacrifice shadows the kohanim.

 “…He who offers a peace-offering to Hashem, he [himself] shall bring his offering to Hashem from his peace offering. His own hands shall bring it, Hashem’s offering by fire: the fat with the breast shall he bring, that the breast may be waved for a wave offering before Hashem” (Vayikra 7:29-30).

 The peace offering, in Hebrew referred to as the zevach hashelamim, is rooted in Shalom, peace. Tradition teaches us that one of the aspects of the greatness of Aaron Hakohain was that he always sought out peace between others. Perhaps in this correlation of words, we find an important lesson about how significant peace is, about how peace can elevate a person.

 Rav Hirsh (cited in the Stone Chumash) related the waving of the breast to an acknowledgement of Hashem’s omnipresence. Waving the offering right, left, up and down, and forward and back, like the lulav and estrog of Sukkos, acknowledges that Hashem’s presence is everywhere. This looks at the term shelamim (a plural form) from its other definition, as a term for wholeness.

 When one acknowledges that Hashem is everywhere and part of everything, one sees the completeness of the world. When one can see the completeness of the world, one can be at peace with both himself and others. This ability to see the world from a place of completeness and peace, to see ways to bring it all together, elevates a person toward the greatness of Aaron and thus one is able to partake in the service of the offering as a shadow of the kohanim.

 Lessons on the importance of bringing peace and completeness abound, and, given that today is Shushan Purim, it seems apropos to note that this is one theme underlying the Purim story. When Am Yisrael was seen as a scattered nation, we were weak and at the mercy of a great enemy. When Mordechai and Esther brought Klal Yisrael back together, and together in a way that brought our focus back to Hashem, we were able to turn the world upside down.

 As we move forward, in a world that often seems topsy turvy, let us look to find ways to see completeness and, even more so, seek out paths that bring peace. In this way, we will bring the focus of ourselves and, imertz Hashem, the world, back to the ultimate source of all that is good.

 

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to continued besoros tovas/refuah shelaima for Rivka bas Golda.

Parshas Vayikra - Attention in the Details

 Parshas Vayikra – Attention in the Details

Parshas Vayikra is not an easy parsha to stay focussed on while reading it. The repetitious nature of the list of karbanos (sacrifices) requires deliberate concentration, and that is, perhaps, particularly appropriate to note when discussing the fourth perek of Sefer Vayikra, the perek dealing with offering for unintentional sins.

Before looking at Perek daled, it is interesting to note that the first three perakim, each of which focuses on a different type of offering, each refer differently to the person who brings the sacrifice and, then, only once at the beginning of the specific perek. Perek aleph, which discusses elevation offerings, refers to “adam ki yakriv, a human (adam as the term for the most basic level of humanity) who brings an offering” (Vayikra 1:2). Perek beis, describing the various mincha offerings, uses the phrase “Vnephesh ki takriv, When a person (with the inference of a life spirit) offers” (2:1). Perek gimmel, which is a peace offering, does not actually mention who is bringing it but takes a more passive form of “If his offering is a feast peace offering” (3:1).

The fourth perek, which describes the unintentional-sin offering, returns to the term, nephesh/person, but only for one pasuk, 4:2, before it seems to repeat with a different subject. Thus we have: “Speak to Bnei Yisrael, saying: If any person shall sin through error, in any of the things that God has commanded not to be done, and shall do any one of them: if the anointed priest shall sin so as to bring guilt on the people, then let him offer for his sin, which he has sinned, a young bullock without blemish to God for a sin-offering” (4:2-3).

While the perek begins with a general person, it immediately switches to specific person. And whereas the previous three perakim used only pronouns to refer to the person bringing the offering at all points after the first mention, in perek daled the person (or persons) bringing the sin offering changes a total of four times. The offering of the anointed kohain begins at 4:2. At 4:13, the subject switches to “kol aidas Yisrael/the entire congregation of Israel.” Pasuk 4:22 describes what must happen if the one who sins unintentionally is a prince of the people. Finally, at verse 27, the text refers back to the nephesh, the person.

The fact that this is some sort of hierarchy is, it seems, obvious. For that very reason, it seems important to recall that the offering being discussed is for unintentional sin. There was no intent. The transgression occurred because the person was either not paying attention, was not meticulous enough in his/her actions, or because they chose, at that moment, not to care enough to put their full effort in.

That the offering is for unintentional sin brings a different significance to the hierarchy. The fact that the anointed priest is mentioned first informs us of the weight of his responsibility. He had to be the type of person who would not slip into laxity of concentration, who would be conscientious of his actions at all times. Why then, one might ask, is the congregation of Israel mentioned next. This goes to the concept, perhaps, of kol Yisrael areivim zeh l’zeh, all of Israel is responsible for one another. We can only get to a state where the entirety of the klal sins unintentionally if we do not act as guardians of each other (appropriately, of course, not as hashgafa police). We all have to care.

That a prince and a person are distinguished is an additional reminder that being a leader requires one to know that he or she must live to a higher standard. How often do we see those in positions of power knocked down for an infraction that only happened because of their position of power? How often does one see the attainment of power, fame, fortune, and etc, lead to a relaxation in standards because one thinks that they suddenly know better or cannot be called out? From a Torah perspective, to be a leader, to be a prince, means that one has an even greater responsibility to be conscientious and meticulous to follow the Torah correctly.

Without a Beis Hamikdash, it is easy to read the parshiot of the sacrifices with one’s eyes only. How many bulls or libations or turtledoves can one read about. And yet within those pasukim are valuable lessons about living one’s life in the best possible way.

This Dvar Torah is written with thoughts of our brethren fleeing the war and with prayers for continued besoros tovos/refuah shelaima for Rivka bas Golda.

Parshas Emor: Finding Meaning in the Holidays

Although we know that the names of parshios are based on the first significant word in the divided section, Emor – Say – is appropriate even for the second chapter, the section that discusses the Jewish festivals. In chapter 23, each of the holidays is introduced by the phrase: “Vayidaber Hashem el Moshe laymor, And God spoke to Moshe to say.” The phrase is used as follows: 23:1 - it leads to an announcement that the festivals designated as a holy convocation are about to be listed, Shabbas above all, and then Pesach (23:1-8). 23:9 – is a discussion and description of the bringing of the omer and the counting of the 50 days until the offering of the loaves on the 50th day, which is Shavuos. (23:9-21). 23:24 – introduces a short section only two verses long that tells the people of the holiday of the Shofar (23:24-25). 23:26 – is the description of Yom Kippur. (23:26-32). And 23:33 – instructs the Jewish people about Sukkos (23:33-36). After 23:33-26, the Torah states, “These are the appointed festivals of Hashem that you shall proclaim as holy convocations to offer”… and then lists the offerings.

It seems a neat and tidy package set off at the beginning and end by a firm declaration that these are the holidays. And yet, that it is not exactly neat and tidy because there are two strange discrepancies that completely ignore the “And God Spoke to Moshe to say” pattern. The first are verses 23:22-23, which is skipped in the above summary. The second are verses 23:39-43.

In the middle of the description of the holidays and at the conclusion of the instructions on the holiday of Shavuos, the Torah seems to interrupt itself to say: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not remove completely the corners of your field as you reap, and you shall not gather the gleanings of your harvest for the poor and the prostelyte shall you leave them. I am Hashem, your God.” As significant a mitzvah as this is, it is not a commandment specifically connected to either the seasonal mitzvah of counting the Omer (and the laws of what you can or cannot do with the Omer during that time) or the holiday of Shavuos. And with the addition of the last three words, Ani Hashem Ehlokeichem (“I am Hashem, your God”), it is almost as if these two verses were taken from parshas Kiddushim and dropped randomly into the description of the holy convocations during which special offerings were to be brought as part of the holiday celebrations.

The second incongruity is that the perek does not conclude with Verses 23:37-38 declaration that these are the appointed time. The perek continues on with a second description of the holiday of Sukkos, a description that includes the commandments of lulav and esrog and the dwelling in booths (sukkos) and is not introduced by “And God spoke to Moshe to say.” This subsection begins with a far more descriptive explanation of the time: “But on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when you gather in the crop of the Land, you shall celebrate Hashem’s festival…”

That these two sets of verses are the “exceptions to the rule” in Chapter 23 signifies, perhaps, that there is a connection. Both sections remind us that, ultimately, everything we have truly belongs to Hashem.

The mitzvah of leaving the corner of one’s fields for those in need to come and glean from is a mitzvah not only of tzedakah, but also a reminder of Hashem’s Dominion. That which we have is a blessing from Hashem, and we must share it with our brethren.

The holiday of Sukkos, particularly our dwelling in temporary huts, has a similar “theme” that is only established in this final subsection of the perek. When it is time to rejoice in the gathering in of the crops, leave your sturdy house and your fine possessions and come dwell under the sky so that you remember that the ultimate source of blessing is Hashem.

One can also see significance in the order of these two sections. Although Chapter 23 is primarily about days of not working and the sacrifices to be brought to the Mishkan or Temple, underlying it all is a hint toward the agricultural cycle of the year, and agriculture is a general reference to parnasa (income). We begin in the spring by celebrating ourselves as a nation, and, almost immediately, we are reminded of the importance of mitzvos bein adam l’chaveiro – of taking care of one another. We end the year reflecting on our relationship with Hashem, and are reminded that Hashem is the ultimate source. One might think that it should be the opposite. Indeed, because of the name Rosh Hashana, we often think of the holidays of the seventh month as the beginning of the year. So too, when we think about spirituality we often think that it starts with the mitzvos bein adam l’makom, the mitzvos between man and God. But in Judaism, the interpersonal mitzvos come first. We must recognize that Hashem gives us blessings so that we can emulate His care of others in order to be able to recognize our true relationship with Him.

Parshas Kedoshim - For Our Daughters

 Let's talk about Shabbas... again. On a casual basis, without researching or counting, it is quite possible to suggest that there is no other topic in the Torah that is so often repeated - except, perhaps, the prohibitions of idolatry - than Shabbas. Other mitzvos, which seem obscure but are also detailed and complex - like don't mix wool and linen, are given very brief "attention" from the Torah. But it often feels as if Shabbas is mentioned once, or more, in every parsha. In Vayikra 19, it is even mentioned twice, in both Vayikra 19:3 and 19:30.

In this particular Dvar Torah, the verse being discussed is 19:30. Before citing the verse, it is important - and interesting - to discuss the structure of this particular section of Vayikra's Parshas Kedoshim. Perak yud'tes (Chapter 19) begins with Hashem telling Moshe to command Bnei Yisrael: "You shall be holy, for holy am I, Hasham, your God" (19:2). Throughout the rest of the perak, every 1 to 5 verses are punctuated with the words Ani Hashem or Ani Hashem Ehlokeichem. Therefore, what is interesting about Vayikra 19:30 is not the verse alone, but also the verse to which it is attached: "Do not profane your daughter to make her a harlot, lest the land become lewd, and the land become filled with depravity. My Sabbaths shall you observe and My Sanctuary shall you revere - I am Hashem" (19:29 - 30).

Before a debate of modern mores on women's rights kicks off, let us please remember that 20th/21st century feminism is not the Torah's goal. In our day, it is the responsibility of every Jew to understand the Torah's values and live them in a modern context. Our current era is quick to rise and decry a perceived patriarchal tone without looking for a deeper purpose to the laws and going beyond how we know they were lived for thousands of years in less liberal societies.

Verse 29 could be read as a directive of family values. The word for profane is t'challel, which is the same verb as chilul Hashem, most often translated as a desecration of Hashem but is also understood as doing an act that causes others to devalue Hashem and Torah.

Throughout the Torah, there appears to be a great emphasis on teaching our sons - although one might debate the male noun/pronoun is also used for mixed gender multiples and the Torah does not waste words with he/she and his/hers. While most commentators discuss verse 29 in a context of not encouraging improper relations, one might be able to read it as a call for being particularly conscientious in our treatment of our daughters, particularly in their teenage years when a warning such as this seems most practical and when most would say our daughters are prone to be sensitive about how they are treated.

This idea is certainly a far leap from traditional understanding of this verse, however, it makes certain sense in connection with "My Sabbaths shall you observe and My Sanctuary shall you revere" (19:30). As is so often the case, Hashem is providing a cure even before the illness. Shabbos is when we spend the most time with our families. Guard the Sabbath to guard your family. "My Sanctuary shall you revere" uses the term mkadshei, my holy places. When we demonstrate reverence for places designated as holy, we can learn and remember that Hashem has provided us, we who live without a Mishkan or a Temple, with opportunities to turn our homes into mikdashei me'at, we must put reverence in our home so our homes can be filled with kedusha.

What about the phrasing of 19:29 that says "lest the land become lewd, and the land become filled with depravity"? This part of the verse only emphasizes the fact of how important treating our daughters properly is. Notice that the verse does not talk about daughters in the plural, but rather "your daughter." A daughter of Israel grows up, imertz Hashem, to be a wife and mother, as well as a plethora of other titles. In these roles of wife and mother, she is the critical transmission point of Klal Yisrael, and each daughter is significant from stopping the land from being filled with depravity.

One final thought - verses 29 and 30 are coupled and concluded with Ani Hashem rather than Ani Hashem Ehlokeichem. Although I have not, right now, sat and studied each section of Vayikra 19 to confirm this thought, it is interesting to ponder the distinction between the exclusion and inclusion of Ehlokeichem. We know that the Divine name Ehlokim reflects din, justice/law, and the Divine name Hashem reflects rachamim, compassion. The fact that Vayikra 19:29-30 concludes with just Ani Hashem is another subtle lesson. Observe the Sabbath, revere the holy places, and raise your daughters - raise the future homes of Klal Yisrael - guided by rachamim.

Parshas Tazria/Metzora – The Challenge of Identity

 Society has always, in one way or another, acknowledged the connection between one’s emotional well being and one’s physical well being. In Medieval Times (and, alas, far after the so-called Dark Ages), doctors treated people’s psychological unwellness by treating their “Humors” (bodily fluids). In more recent times, we know that stress causes ulcers, thyroid can cause depression, and etc. It is clear that our bodies and our minds are deeply entangled. And yet it is still incredibly difficult, at least for me, to understand the parshiot of Tazria-Metzora, of an “illness” of the soul being reflected by a physical ailment. (And I will certainly note that I think a big part of my challenge is having grown up with the English translation of it being leprosy and then discovering that leprosy was caused by a bacterial infection and learning that leprosy is really just a very bad translation.)

As one reads the parsha one learns about the physical appearance of the blemish, and, in truth, the idea of strange discoloration is something that most people can envision and understand. But what about the very strange situation described in Vayikra 13:12-17:

If the eruption spreads out over the skin so that it covers all the skin of the affected person from head to foot, wherever the priest can see—if the priest sees that the eruption has covered the whole body—he shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean, for he has turned all white. But as soon as undiscolored flesh appears in it, he shall be unclean; when the priest sees the undiscolored flesh, he shall pronounce him unclean. The undiscolored flesh is unclean; it is leprosy. But if the undiscolored flesh again turns white, he shall come to the priest, and the priest shall examine him: if the affection has turned white, the priest shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean.

“If a person’s entire physical being becomes covered in a blemish” - this isn’t Vitiligo, the slow process of pigmentation loss. It is, as the pasuk notes, an eruption of blemish. Having just been taught that this very type of blemish indicates a spiritual impurity, the Torah is now teaching us that an entire body covered in this very blemish is to be declared pure, and if a patch of regular skin appears, then he is impure. It is, one could say, a rather shocking and confusing passage. Shocking because it is hard to imagine one erupting in a blemish that could cover the entire body, and confusing because said person goes in and out of the state of pure and impure.

The process, as I understand it, is that it starts as an initial impurity that, after having been declared impure, quickly spreads over the entire body. Now that it is over the entire body, the kohain looks at it and declares that it is not an impurity, it is a skin issue. If it is everywhere, it is clean and the person is pure. However, once it has been declared pure, or shortly thereafter, it shifts again and retreats creating a patch of the person’s original skin. Now the kohain says “Wait a minute, it is not a skin issue, it is an impurity.” This can go back-and-forth multiple times. As long as it is completely one way or the other, the person is pure, but the patches shift the person back to impurity.

In a way, this speaks greatly to the question of identity, a topic that appears to be a hot button issue today but, in reality, has always been an important part of human nature. Think about the stories of kids in high schools (public) who went “Goth,” declaring that they were asserting their independence, but it was clear that what they were asserting was their group identity.

We all, as human beings, struggle with identity. When we figure out how to be completely our true selves, we are pure. However, when we let that niggling self doubt of our path enter our minds, we are no longer are pure selves. This does not mean we should not question ourselves, that we should not follow correction of a halachic or hashkafic path of Torah, that we should not be involved in constant growth and readjustment.

One could give an extreme example, such as allowing comments made during a religious debate to cause one to question Torah, chas v’shalom. Without proper care, that small impurity can worm its way into one’s sense of self, can make one doubt things that are known to be truths.

One could also think of the silly, more mundane moments when who we are and what we like is challenged by other people. For instance, a person like sardines and enjoy having them for lunch, but the guy at the next seat tells him that eating sardines is weird. One could respond, “Well, , that’s your opinion” and continue eating sardines. But, quite often one might, instead, begin to worry that he is doing something unacceptable.

This is very normal for human beings to do. Our goal, and one of the biggest challenges of being people of faith in an unfaithful world (to sound like a charming book cover) is that we need to have tenacity to hold on to our point of view, to our inherent identity. If we let a random, outside thought create a blemish, then we must stop and recalibrate ourselves all over again, to get to the point where we can once again know for certain who we are and what our purpose is. Is this a natural process - yes! Is it a challenging process - yes! Is there something we can do about it - yes! It is what our people have always done. We study, we learn, and when we worry about the first signs of a patch of impurity, we take it to our spiritual experts, and we ask them for guidance.

*What I write here now are purely my thoughts, with no commentaries or midrashim having been researched, although someone may find something similar somewhere I want it to be stated because it is just my unbacked up ideas.

Parshas Shemini: Avoiding Emotional Judgements

 When one studies Torah, one is not just learning about the history and laws of the Jewish nation. Studying Torah is about learning life skills on a range of levels. In Parasha Shemini, we have the opportunity to learn about the hazards of letting our emotions decide our judgement of other people’s actions, and we do this through Moshe.

Moshe had a temper. It's a fact that we don't often think about because… well because he is Moshe. He is the ultimate eved Hashem, and is even called out in the Torah for his great humility. And while that is true, it is also true that there are several references to him reacting in anger. Some people have, perhaps, read that statement and felt offended at the presumption of negative traits. On the contrary, the idea of Moshe having a temper attests to the fact that he had enough passion to lead our stiff necked ancestors. Even more importantly, in every case of anger that is expressed in the Torah, Moshe’s primary reaction is about the honor due Hashem or protecting the Jewish people (even from themselves).

In Parshas Shemini, Moshe's emotion are very complex. The Mishkan is finally ready to be inaugurated. In the midst of the elaborate santicifaction ceremony for which has prepared for days, Nadav and Abihu are struck down for bringing an unasked for offering. Their deaths must be overlooked so that the sanctification can be completed, so Moshe must help his brother and two nephews put off their reactions. Aaron and his sons go on to a series a specific offerings. But something seems to have gone wrong in the completion of the ceremony, at least according to Moshe, for the Torah suddenly states: "Moshe inquired insistently about the he-goat of the sin-offering for behold it had been burned! And he was wrathful with Elazar and Itamar, Aaron’s remaining sons" (10:16).

Hashem commanded very specific steps and sacrifices for the day that the Mishkan was sanctified. Several of the sacrifices were meant to be eaten by the kohanim, Aaron and his sons, including the he-goat of the sin offering. Why then, Moshe needed to know, did they burn it?

The Torah’s words that Moshe “inquired insistently” and “was wrathful” tell us that he was led by his emotions in his reaction. Perhaps Moshe saw this as the kohanim being unable to take and follow instruction, that they could not truly serve Hashem properly. More humanely, perhaps he was worried that Elazar and Itamar had also, like their brothers, performed the service improperly and that they too might die. However, as Hashem did not appear to react, as he had with Nadav and Abihu, Moshe’s strong actions speak of underlying emotion driving him forward.

To conclude the situation, Aaron stepped in and said: “Was it they who this day offered their sin offering and their elevation offering before Hashem? Now that such things befell me - were I to eat this day's sin offering would Hashem approve?" (Vayikra 10:19).

In stepping between Moshe and his sons, in declaring his role and responsibility, Aaron was also explaining to Moshe that the deaths of Nadav and Abihu had effected the inauguration, even without their stopping and reacting. Aaron, Elazar, and Itamar were all now in a state known as onen. It is the first stage of mourning - after the death but before the burial. An onen is very limited in the performance of mitzvot, even if they are kohanim performing a service in the Mishkan or Beis Hamikdash.

Being both onanim and kohanim, Elazar and Itamar could not participate in most of the offerings. As the Kohen Gadol (high priest), however, Aaron was allowed to perform the offerings. As for why two goats and the meal offering were eaten but one sacrificed goat was not, Aaron’s response implied enough to remind Moshe that the goats that were eaten were sacrifices ordered specifically for the inauguration and were therefore allowed to be consumed, whereas the he-goat of the sin offering was actually an offering of Rosh Chodesh and could not be consumed by an onen, even the Kohen Gadol. The first two could be offered by Aaron and eaten by the priests, the third had to be burnt whole since none of them were permitted to eat it.

When Moshe saw the sacrifices done differently than he had instructed, he reacts with emotion he grows irate with a holy passion to do Hashem’s will properly. He investigates and lays blame rather than asking questions. But in pasuk 10:20, after Aaron has defended his sons and explained the halachic nuances, Moshe is humbled - and here is the lesson to be learned. While the verse simply says "Moshe heard and it was good in his eyes," the Midrash tells us that Moshe declared that he had forgotten the law that Aaron had just retaught him.

Parshas Shemini is where Moshe recognizes the price of temper. Vayikra Raba points out that ''because Moshe became angry at Elazar and Itamar, he forgot the laws of mourning." It is interesting to note that we can know, from future incidents, that Moshe does not completely lose his temper. Indeed, according to many commentaries, he lost his ability to enter Eretz Yisrael because, in a moment of temper, he struck the rock rather than speaking to it to draw forth water.

Just as Moshe could have quietly apologized rather than declare that he had forgotten the law and thus humble himself before the people, the Torah did not have to include these details. But everything in the Torah is meant to help us grow as individuals. Right now, we are living in a time of great tension. People have many emotions quivering under the surface as they try to put on a good face. Let us remember to hold back out judgements on each others’ behavior because far too often there are facts we do not know and reasonings we may have forgotten.

TZAV- Growth Must be Personal

This week’s parsha, parshas Tzav, is a short portion that is both simple and complex at the same time. It is simple because it is detailed instructions on the performance of the karbanos (offerings) and on the dressing of the kohanim (priests). It is complex because, for most of us - particularly two thousand years since the destruction of the Temple, the details of the sacrificial service are almost impossible to imagine.

The name of the parsha, Tzav, is the first word of the second pasuk. (The first verse being the almost generic: “And God spoke to Moshe, saying…”) Tzav means command, and the verse states: “Command Aaron and his sons saying, this is the teaching of the burnt offering…” (Vayikra 6:2). The burnt offering burns upon the altar all night, and the instructions that follow are the performance of the morning service. Numerous commentators explain that the use of the word Tzav implies a command for zrizus, to make haste to do the mitzvah without delay. In this case, its performance, the beginning of which is described in the second half of the verse, is the start of the sacrificial schedule of the day since “the burnt offering itself [offered the night before] shall remain which it is burned upon the altar all night until morning, while the fire on the altar is kept going on it.”

One would expect the next verse to continue immediately into describing what the priest was meant to do with the remnants of the burnt offering, which It does, but with a brief interruption: “The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar” (6:3). The word used to indicate linen garment is mido bod, about which Rashi states: “This is what is elsewhere termed the ketones, the undercoat; and why then is it here called mido? To intimate that it must be made to his measure.”

Not only does the Torah interrupt the instructions for how to complete the burnt offering with instructions for how the priest must be dressed, but it adds in a subtle notation about how those clothing should fit. What is the lesson that we learn from this?

The most obvious lesson, one mentioned by several commentators, is about the importance of maintaining the dignity of the office. Even when going out to perform a mundane and potentially dirty task that is part of the avodah, one must present himself in the priestly garb. Furthermore, that garb, which represents the kahuna, the priesthood, must be properly fitted, which again is important to presenting the dignity of the individual priest.

One could also look at this subtle instruction for individually sized garb to be a comfort to the ranks of priests to come. Even raised as they were to know that as kohanim they had special privileges that came from their unique – and demanding – responsibilities, it could, perhaps, have felt daunting to imagine becoming one of a stream of kohanim each indistinguishable from the next by the clothing they wore. By using the term mido, there is an acknowledgement of the importance and necessity of recognizing each of the kohanim as individuals.

The term mida, which translates as measurement, is often used to describe a person’s character traits – both good and bad. While living according to Torah is, at its most basic, about following the laws set down by God, within every mitzvah one finds the means to improve one’s midos. Here in Tzav, as we are given a lesson about how each priest must have his own garb sized appropriately for him, we can also reflect on how each of us has our own God given personality, our own unique mix of midos designed by Hashem to dress our unique neshamos as we move into the world to do mitvos. If we find them too “tight” we can change them, if we find them too “loose” we can adjust them – that is the work of improving ourselves.

Soon we shall celebrate the seder. One of the most memorable, and complex, passages of the seder, is the listing of the four sons. Much has been written about this dialogue – about the stiffness of the question of the Wise son, the seeming harshness of the response to the Wicked son, the role of the Simple son, and the true character of the son Who Cannot Ask.

The four sons are broad characterizations, but they, too, are a comfort and a reminder at the Seder that in the Jewish world there is an acknowledgement that we are individuals, that we have individual needs. The four sons are not static. Each of us can, and most probably does, fit each of the categories at different times in our lives. Many of us have, and will, experience times when we are uncomfortable with the state of our role, with the place we are in, but the solution is here in Tzav.

The kohein must rise in the morning and dress himself in his made-to-measure garb and act with zrizus to begin the morning service. Each of us must take who we are, dressed in the midos that we have at that moment, and work with intention to become better people and to build a stronger connection to Hashem.