Parshas Metzora: The Beauty in Materialism

A beautiful, new set of freshly toiveld silverware sparkles in my hand as I gently dry it in preparation for the upcoming holiday. I smile, humming as I work because I feel happy that my Yom Tov table will look so pretty. Suddenly I start to wonder about redemption and Moshiach and what my joy in my pretty Amazon purchase bodes for my attitude toward redemption. Am I too attached to my home and my possessions? If Moshiach came now and this Pesach we celebrated the true call of redemption, would I be happy to, or even capable of, picking up and leaving?

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a bracha and an honor to be able to make a beautiful Yom Tov. We use the material to elevate us as we focus on the spiritual. The Torah doesn’t promote ascetisism. It’s okay to own and enjoy nice things, and it is even encouraged to fulfill mitzvos in the most beautiful way.

In an interesting way, we even see this in the roots of Pesach. During the ninth plague, Hashem made certain that we had the nice things. The plague of darkness provided Bnei Yisrael with the opportunity to discover the gold and silver that they would later request from the Egyptians, payment for the years of servitude. They later used that gold and silver, each person of their own desire, to build the mishkan.

It is noteworthy to think about the wealth they acquired. It was both payment and fulfilment. Payment, as in compensation for the generations during which the people were enslaved, and thus could be seen as something earned. Fulfilment, as in Hashem promised Avraham that his descendants would come out of the land of oppression with great wealth – a promise fulfilled; but also fulfillment, as in Hashem gives each person exactly what he or she is supposed to have.

So if Hashem gives each person exactly what they need, does that mean I might need new crystal for my Seder table? Maybe…but then it means it is there for a reason, and I should gain something spiritual from it.

The spiritual and material are inherently connected, and this week’s parsha, Parshas Metzora, makes that point in a particularly fascinating way. The parsha talks about the possibility of tzaraas transferring onto one’s possessions. It’s a very difficult-to-understand concept. In this day and age, unless something is designated as a religious object, we don’t think of the possibility of an inanimate object having spiritual modulation.

Our material possessions, however, are connected to us just as much as we are connected to them. My possessions can reflect a spiritual downturn, as in the case of tzaraas, or they can reflect elevation, as when used for a mitzvah. The question, as with many things, comes down to bechira, free will. If I use my wealth to do mitzvot as beautifully as possible, that underlines spiritual growth. If I use my wealth to build myself up to become either arrogant or, on the other hand, my attachment to materialism makes me jealous or avaricious, then that demonstrates a lack of growth.

There is an interesting Midrash (Vayikrah Rabbah 17:6, cited by Rashi on Vayikra 14:34) that explains that quite often the destruction of a house and possessions because of tzaraas led to the discovery of treasure hidden behind the walls (left by the Amorites, according to the Midrash). Hashem’s aim is not poverty and punishment. Hashem’s aim is to help us draw closer to Him.                                                                                                                                                                        In the fall, we celebrate Sukkot by leaving our homes and moving into “huts,” which demonstrates our faith that Hashem is truly in control. On some level, we leave behind our physical and material security. Right now, however, we are about to celebrate Pesach, to celebrate redemption from slavery, and we do so with a lavish and luxurious seuda in which we are taught to recline like royalty and drink rich wine – we surround ourselves with a physical glory in order to honor what Hashem did for us.

In preparing our magnificent seder tables – or while perusing those over-the-top magazine images of the perfect seder table – we are presented with the empowering challenge of being clear in our intentions. These sparkling new knives bring me joy because they will enhance my Yom Tov, not because they will enhance me, and if – no, and when, Moshiach knocks at my door, I could, if required, walk away from it all.

As we enter this auspicious time, I wish you all a gut Shabbas and the ability to focus on what really matters in this world, and I pray that Hashem will send a speedy redemption for those still held by Hamas and for our entire nation from this dire threat.  

Parshas Shemini: The Intentions of Ahava versus Yira

This week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, could be said, if one looks at it broadly, to about honest motivations. Torah Judaism puts tremendous importance on a person’s intention. Indeed, what one has in mind when doing an action can often be the difference between its being a mitzvah or not.

 

The last Perek (chapter) in this parsha talk about non-kosher and kosher animals. It deliberately details 4 animals as being almost kosher, which, of course, is not kosher at all. The camel, the hybex, and the hare are all noted as chewing their cud but having feet that are falsely similar to split hooves. The pig, on the other hand, is noted as having split hooves, but only appearing to chew its cud. Chazal, the sages, speak of it as a deliberate attempt by the animal to deceive one into thinking it is kosher – it is a deliberately false intention. And as we all may have noticed, there are few animals as vilified among the Jewish people as pigs (even if they are just as unkosher as any other non-kosher animal).

 

The pig is a rather drastic example of the intention to deceive. However, let’s be honest – almost all of us have either lacked intention or had the wrong intention while doing a mitzvah, at least once in our lives. That doesn’t mean we had a mean or negative intention, but we just didn’t have the right intentions. Sometimes that is okay. Sometimes that leads to Sheh lo lishma, bo lishma – that wasn’t for the sake of heaven, to being for the sake of heaven. But sometimes, when it is really important, we need to really take ourselves into account; we need to think through our actions before we rush forward.

 

This is one of the lessons of Nadav and Abihu. They watched their father, Aaron, perform the avodah perfectly, and they witnessed that “A fire went forth from before Hashem and consumed” the offering. It was a moment of sheer awe. Indeed, the entire people shouted and fell on their faces (Vayikra 9:24). The very next pasuk, 10:1, then describes the actions of Nadav and Abihu performing the service themselves and being consumed by flame.  

 

Imagine what this must have looked like for Klal Yisrael. These young kohanim jump up to perform a service and are struck down. Their actions looked kosher, but they weren’t.

 

The are a multitude of commentaries about what they did that caused them to be punished so drastically. There are those that say that they were drunk, based on the commandment not to drink when performing the avodah that is written later in the parsha. There are those that say that their rash action was the result of arrogance, of a sense that they were equally important as their father. Or perhaps it was the zealousness of youth. These commentaries all speak to an underlying error in intention. They performed the ritual correctly, although they had not been instructed to do so, but their intentions were more selfishly motivated.

 

On the other hand, there are commentaries that speak of Nadav and Abihu’s good intentions. One could see how these youths brought their offering out of overwhelming love for Hashem. They have just witnessed the success of the inauguration of the Mishkan, the culmination of what the klal had been working toward. They had just gotten a direct and positive response from Hashem. If this, they might have thought, is what Hashem wants, then we shall give Him more.

 

The intention, in that case, was beautiful, and yet it was still wrong because it was lacking a fundamental understanding that living by Hashem’s Torah means we don’t act purely on impulse. The emotion of love, even love for Hashem, is tempered by yira, fear in the sense of the awe of knowing that this world has a right way and a wrong way.

 

The Torah requires us to live our lives under specific rules and guidelines, and as beautiful as the love is, it isn’t enough. Two people cannot always marry just because they love each other, for instance a kohain and a divorcee. There are rules. There are limitations. And they are in place to bring order to the world. The emotion of love can be overwhelming, but as beautiful as that is, the euphoric feelings of doing something good at that moment are a false front.

 

Many of us grew up surrounded by a society that presented an underlying message that if one just lives a good life, that’s enough. And there are many, many people who love God powerfully and who strive to be the best person that they can be because of that emotion, but it lacks a framework. This is one of the messages we learn during Pesach, when we contemplate leaving slavery in Mitzrayim to go out and become avdei Hashem, servants of Hashem.

 

Living our own definition of being a good person, defining our relationships with Hashem based on our inner emotions, or jumping into mitzvos out of Ahava when they aren’t our mitzvos to do, are all false fronts. A “kosher” life, so to speak, is a life that is filled with Ahavas Hashem that is guided by Yira, by awe. That sense of yira is what reminds us that the halachos hand down from Sinai were given to us because only Hashem understands the true innerworking of the world and following His ways is actually the ultimate expression of Ahavas Hashem.

Parshas Pekudai: Reflections on Accounting

This week's parsha, Parshas Pekudei, is the last parsha of Sefer Shemos and is mostly - well, almost entirely - focused on the completion of the pieces of the Mishkan and its assembling. Like all parshios, Parshas Pekudei is named for the first significant word in the parsha, and, as so often happens, there is important subtext to the use of this word.

“Eleh pekudei haMishkan…This is an accounting of the Mishkan…” (Shemos 38:21).

The word “pekudei” is strong and informative. The parsha opens with pasukim that specify exactly how Bnei Yisrael's donations were used in producing the pieces in the Mishkan. The Midrash, however, explains why the accounting happened at all. There were, it seems, actually people who suspected Moshe Rabbeinu of pocketing some of the gold and silver. Here was a man who had walked away from royalty, who had dedicated himself to the people, and who had spoken to Gd to beg for the lives of the entire nation! How could anyone possibly suggest that Moshe had misappropriated funds?

In the book “Rav Chaim Kanievsky on Chumash,” it is noted that Rav Chaim pointed out that the avnei zikaron, the remembrance stones” are written in Parshas Tetzaveh without a vav in the word zikaron (rememberance) but with a vav in this week’s parsha. When written without the vav, Rav Chaim states, “zikaron always indicates a positive remembrance: remembering a merit or a promised reward” (p. 439). The added vav, however, indicates that the remembrance has grown wider. “While the stones could still serve as a remembrance of their [Bnei Yisrael] merits, they could now also remind Hashem of their sins, if they proved unworthy” (ibid.).

The difference of Tetzaveh and Pekudei? The chait haegel (sin of the golden calf). We all understand, on some level, how terrible the chait haegel was. The chait was transformative - and not in a good way. Beyond losing the ultimate connection with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, we, the Jewish people, lost faith in ourselves. 

In a way, the chait haegel had an impact on Bnei Yisrael that is similar to the effect on all of humanity that came from Chava eating from the eitz hadas (the tree of knowledge of good and bad). This one act shifted the perception of everyone ever after. Prior to the eating of the fruit, humanity was able to perceive the world with innocence, without an inner yetzer harah. After they ate, however, Adam and Chava saw the world so differently that they could no longer look at each other without seeing nakedness. 

At Har Sinai, Bnei Yisrael reached an incredible level of kedusha. They were raised onto a spiritual level that should have made them see the world in a way that, well, to be honest, we today just cannot fathom. I imagine that they would have had a unique perception of Hashem’s din and rachamim. And when they set out to have Aaron make the egel, it is understood by our sages that they did so out of a desire to have a means of getting closer to Hashem because there were subtle insinuations of doubt of Moshe’s return. The whispers that Moshe had been gone too long were as insidious as the serpent making Chava doubt herself by showing her that the tree was safe to touch. 

The sin happened. The sinners were rebuked and also forgiven. Their understanding of the world - their place in the world - however, had shifted once again. Before the chait, Bnei Yisrael was focused on Hashem and connecting to Him, so Hashem could plan that the avnei zikaron were reflections of their merit. After the chait, however, Bnei Yisrael must live with the knowledge that they are capable of such sin and that their friends and neighbors are capable fo such sin. The only way that anyone could have accused Moshe of misusing the funds for the Mishkan was if they had had such thoughts themselves, and such thoughts could only have power if one doubts oneself and thus everyone else. 

When Bnei Yisrael committed the chait haegel, they broke more than Hashem’s trust; they broke their trust in themselves. The avnei zikaron would now be remembrances of both good and bad because Bnei Yisrael had removed themselves from the spiritual level of Sinai and returned to a more common level, a level on which they perceive both good and bad in themselves and in others. 

Taking it a step further (and out on one of my limbs), this is the level that allowed them to complain over and over in the wilderness. Bnei Yisrael no longer perceived Hashem’s din and rachamim as the Divine forces of the world but were now low enough to question even Hashem. This is how we today are capable of being angry at Hashem, even though true bitachon requires the recognition that everything that happens is, ultimately, for our own good. It’s still emuna. We still know that Hashem is the active force of the world, but we are not able to see it for what it is.

The accounting of Pekudei occurred because the people were now capable of doubt, of assuming ill of Moshe. That does not, however, make the accounting a bad thing. Am Yisrael resides in a world in which the other nations are constantly judging our nation, and we must learn from Moshe that even when there is no need to show our honesty, an honest accounting is always beneficial. 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas

Parshas Vayakhel – Teacher Talk

“Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” If ever there was a degrading statement that deserved to be disproved, it is this. Those who teach because they “can’t” make terrible teachers; and those who teach because they are inspired and wish to inspire others...well, you can judge.

As odd an opening as this might seem for a Dvar Torah, it is actually highly apropos for this week’s parsha, Parahas Vayakhel, which contains a fascinating verse on this subject: “And also the gift of teaching has He put in his (Betzalel’s) heart, both he and Ohalieb, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan” (Shemos 35:34). Moshe had just finished explaining that Hashem had filled Betzalel with all sorts of engineering and artistic knowledge so that he would be able to take charge of the building of the Mishkan, and yet it was noteworthy to mention that equal to all these gifts was the fact that Hashem had filled him with the ability to teach.

Teaching is not easy, especially if the subject being taught is one which the person teaching knows by instinct. If one is born with a natural musical talent, it can be challenging to teach someone who is less inclined to hear the music.

There is, of course, greater significance to this verse. The people are making the Mishkan. All the people who wish to participate in the process, all the people who want to contribute their efforts in whichever way they can, are going to come forward. But by including this detail - that Betzalel and Ohalieb have been given a talent for teaching in addition to engineering and artistry – Moshe is making certain that even those who are uncertain of their skills and talents can come and join.

Additionally, there is an important message for Betzalel and Ohalieb: Just because you have a natural talent, just because you may be the most talented, does not mean that you should do it all alone. Natural talent is a gift, a privilege… and, as we all know, with great privilege comes great responsibility. You must do things with your talent, and you must share your talent with those who want to learn.

This may seem a short and simple Dvar Torah, but it has many applications to life. The Mishkan was built by Klal Yisrael working together. The only way this happens if there is coordination and delegation, and Hashem made a statement of His expectation of that behavior by highlighting that a talent for teaching was gifted to them. Transmitting knowledge, be that Torah or science or the arts, requires its own significant capability, and it should not be minimized. But, also, we each must share our individual knowledge and talents so that we as a nation, as a people, can fulfill our role in this world.

I wish you all much hatzlacha in finding your own special gifts and finding the people with whom to share it.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshas Ki Sisa: Putting the Finery Aside

If you were to be given a pop quiz on all the immediate consequences of the cheit haegel, the sin of the golden calf, you would probably say that people died and that Hashem distanced Himself from the nation. Both of these are correct. Most people who learn parsha will recall that the Leviim strapped on their swords and meted out punishment so that “three thousand men fell from among the people” (Shemos 32:28). Furthermore, the people were struck by a plague, although the Torah does not give a specific count of how many died because of it.

The other primary consequence that is generally discussed is Moshe begging Hashem not to destroy the nation. Hashem agrees, but He also tells Moshe that He will send His malachim to help them as they go, “But I will not go in your midst, since you are a stiff-necked people, lest I destroy you on the way” (33:4).

If the second question on this pop quiz was to ask how jewelry is connected to the cheit haegel, there would, again, be little hesitation in responding: the men eagerly gave the family jewelry to Aaron to create the golden calf. Jewelry, however, is also significant among the consequences of the sin. It is written:

“When the people heard this harsh word [that Hashem would not go in their midst], they went into mourning, and none put on finery. Hashem said to Moshe, ‘Say to the Israelite people, “You are a stiff-necked people. If I were to go in your midst for one moment, I would destroy you. Now, then, leave off your finery, and I will consider what to do to you.”’ So the children of Israel divested themselves of their finery from Mount Horeb.” (33:4-6).

This small section of the Torah, so easily glossed over by the momentous actions occurring all around it, is rather intriguing. To break it down: Bnei Yisrael express their regret and despair by refraining from adorning themselves. Hashem responds by telling them to “leave off your finery.” They do so.

Just as a minor point, one might be asking what jewelry or finery was left. However, Aaron specifically asked for gold earrings, and there was plenty of other jewelry still left. There is, however, a question of the final verse specifying “their finery from Mount Horeb.” Some commentators explain this as jewelry they wore when they received the Torah while others believe that it refers to jewelry that represents receiving the Torah (for instance the idea that they each received a spiritual crown or set of crowns). It is significant that the Hebrew word used for this finery, as the Chabad website translates it, is “edyam,” the root of which appears to be ayin-daled, which also forms the word for “ed,” which means witness.

This section of verses is a fascinating example of the human propensity for self reflection. Hashem announces that He will not be travelling with the nation. The people assess themselves and recognize that they are not the same as they were at Horeb, they recognize their own spiritual failing and find a physical means of expressing this.

From that perspective, Hashem’s response is, need I say, endearing…like a parent who realizes the limit of his/her anger at the child and tells the child to go away so that he/she may figure out what to do. Pasuk hey (5) is Hashem’s reassessment of the nation based on their own self-assessment. The fact that they recognize their spiritual failing and accept the responsibility of it, and still want to fight for their relationship with Hashem – that is how Bnei Yisrael is stiff necked! That is why Hashem must “consider what to do to you.”

What did Bnei Yisrael leave behind? They left behind the divine glory that they were obviously not ready to own, that we are still, to this day, not ready to own. But that is significant.

Bnei Yisrael went from the 49th level of tumah to receiving the Torah and experiencing divinity in an extremely short period of time. They may have wanted to wear the finery of spiritual perfection, but now, after falling so far during the cheit haegel, they were able to realize – by themselves and approved by Hashem – that this was not where they were able to be. But the fact that they voluntarily removed this ideal from themselves demonstrated the very fact that they wanted the relationship.

Each of us is on a spiritual journey. Each of us wants to attain a real relationship with Hashem. But for those of us who sometimes wish to reach the level of relationship where we could just see an open miracle or two, or just know what Hashem has in store. or witness direct intervention, Shemos 33:4-6 reminds us that we accepted upon ourselves that this was too much, that this was a level on which we could not live. In doing so, that midbar generation removed perfectionism as a spiritual goal. Only Hashem is perfect. Humans cannot live on a perfect level. It is, rather, our stiff-necked journey of trying to get higher, to get closer, without giving up even when one falls, that is important.

Wishing you Shabbat Shalom

Parshas Tetzaveh: Spiritual Reflexology

Dedicated l’ilui nshmas Avraham Ephraim Beryl ben Yaakov Halevi, my father, may he rest in peace, whose Yahrtzeit is 14 Adar.

 What sets the kohanim apart from the rest of Bnei Yisrael? Today, many scientific minds might say that the answer feels like it might be solely DNA, the ancestral traits that lead back to a single progenitor. But DNA is a blueprint to the individual elements that make up a person. We now know that people can have genetic markers for a predisposition to be a morning person or to dislike cilantro. The DNA passed down to all of the male descendants of Aaron the Kohain does give them a distinctive trait; it just isn’t physical.

 Speculatively, one could say that the genetic make-up that came straight from Aaron is a unique connection to spirituality, which he was born with. But the fact that the role of the priests was initially intended to be fulfilled by the firstborn, and then it was designated to the Leviim, and then it was given to Aaron and his sons indicates that it was not something inherent that Aaron was born with but rather that there was some form of transformation…

 I will gladly state that everything that follows is purely speculative. In this week’s parsha, Parshas Tetzaveh, there is a detailed description of the specific ceremony of inauguration that Aaron and his sons were to undergo. They were bathed and dressed in their very unique garb and then anointed. Once Aaron and his sons were prepared, the following karbanos took place in this specific sequence: A bull was slaughtered, its blood was applied to the altar, its fat burned, and then, after the fats, the rest of it was burnt. Then two rams were brought forward. The first ram had its blood sprinkled, but then all of it was burnt for the raiach nichoach, a satisfying aroma spirit. The second ram, however, was the source of blood that was placed on the right ear cartilage, right thumb, and right big toe of Aaron and his sons. Afterward, the Torah states: “Take some of the blood that is on the altar and some of the anointing oil and sprinkle upon Aaron and his vestments, and also upon his sons and his sons’ vestments. Thus shall he and his vestments be holy, as well as his sons and his sons’ vestments” (Shemos 29:21).

 One of the things that stands out about this ceremony is the placing of the blood on the ear, thumb, and toe.  Actually, and quite interestingly, it was noted on Aish.com that the only other place this specific ritual is mentioned is in connection to one who has recovered from tzaras and must be ritually purified. In no other place in the Torah do we have a marked physical indication of attaining a different spiritual level, except, perhaps with the means of inaugurating the kohanim. What is the connection of one who has recovered from tzaras and Aaron and his sons on the verge of attaining the kahuna, and what does either have to do with one’s ear, thumb, and toe?

 There is an alternative medicine practice known a reflexology. Its critical act is to press on specific pressure points that activate natural healing and stress relief. What is fascinating is that reflexology focuses on three main body parts – the foot, the hand, and the ear.

 The person suffering from tzaras needed healing – spiritual to affect the physical. But why were the ear, thumb, and toe significant to the kohanim? The term healing is generally connected to the dismissal or cure of an illness, but, perhaps, when we speak of healing that is connected to the spiritual, we must think of it as a rectification. The person who suffers from tzaras goes through a process of ridding himself of a yetzer hara (not THE yetzer hara, but an active aspect of it) and therefore fixes something spiritually in order to rejoin the nation. Aaron and his sons needed to rectify their spiritual essence to be ready to take on their new roles. This rectification was a transformation that they then passed on to their descendants.

 The kohanim needed an immediate spiritual transformation, but the one suffering from tzaras had to do teshuva in order to undergo this ritual. We may not be able to become Kohanim, obviously, but we can learn the importance of understanding that attaining a spiritual transformation is our ultimate goal. The mefarshim note that the ear represents listening to Hashem, the thumb represents the hand actively performing mitzovs, and the foot represents going forth to do Hashem’s will. One should not wait to fall victim to the yetzer harah but should constantly strive to bring about their own spiritual transformation.

 Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Teruma: The Bars of Bitachon

One of the most difficult things to achieve in life is true bitachon. Bitachon means trusting that Hashem is totally in control and that everything that happens to you in life is just as Hashem wanted it. These concepts are easy when we see situations of supreme hashgacha pratis, like being late for a bus that then gets a flat tire so that if you had been on it, you would have actually been late for work. In living regular life, however, bitachon is, for most people, a challenge. And the challenge is, quite often, just a question of self-awareness and thinking about Hashem – something we mortals often forget about.

Recognizing Hashem’s hand in our lives is all about perspective, but getting that perspective takes work. There is heavy spiritual lifting, one might say, because by the very design of this world, Hashem does not want His control, His planning, to seem obvious. Hashem created humankind with an aspiration for success so that we would have a natural instinct to strive for something – and what it is that we strive for is our bechira, our free choice, to choose.

This week’s parsha, Parshas Teruma, is all about the instructions for building the Mishkan. The commentaries argue about the significance of the Mishkan having rings on the feet and rings on the corners (and if this is an accurate understanding of where the rings go) as well as which staves were never removed. But the Meshech Chachmah, as noted in the Sefer Talelei Oros, says: “Ostensibly, the purpose of the poles was to carry the Ark, as the Torah specifically states (25:14), ‘To carry the Ark with them.” Nonetheless, this was all an illusion, as the Talmud (Sotah 35a) tells us, ‘The Ark carried its bearers.’ In actuality, the poles were required because God decreed in His infinite wisdom that the Ark should be carried in a manner which gives the outward but erroneous impression that the bearers are carrying it.”

This is the essence of the challenge of bitachon. We look at life and assume that the successes we see other people achieving are based on something we can calculate and imitate. In fact, their successes…as well as their challenges and their failures… are all suited to their specific neshamos.

One might say that human nature requires us to believe in the power of our own effort. This is true. The part of us that is tied to this world desires a sense of success. Our goal as Jews, however, is to connect our lives to the part of ourselves that is spiritual, and that part of ourselves, the Neshama, is strengthened by seeing Hashem’s hand in everything.

If Hashem determines on Rosh Hashana how much money each person will have in the year to come, why do people feel that if they just stay at the office several hours longer they will become wealthier? This is not to say that it won’t help one become more successful, but one becomes more successful because that was what was meant to happen.

Hashem instructed that the Ark should be carried in such a manner that human effort seemed necessary. Hashem arranged the world so that is seems as if human effort is required. And it is, but not for the reasons we imagine. The hishtadlus we do puts us in the places we need to be and provides us with the opportunities for elevation and connection to Hakadosh Baruch Hu.

Working on bitachon is something we have to do day in and day out – and not without success. Most of us have had moments… but the work is making those moments into our reality. It isn’t easy. It’s a lifetime of effort. Every moment of that effort, however, is step closer to Hashem.

I wish you all a good Shabbas and hatzlacha in all your hishtadlus. May the path to where you need to go be filled with simcha.

Parshas Yisro: Joining a Nation

The beginning of Parshas Yisro describes the arrival of Moshe's father-in-law and his wise advice to Moshe on how to set up a system of courts so as not to be overwhelmed. Hisbwisdom had a profound impact of the burgeoning nation, but Bnei Yisrael also had a profound impact on Yisro.

When Yisro and Moshe are reunited, Yisro states: “Now I know that Hashem is greater than all gods, yes, by the result of their very schemes against [the people]” (Shemos 18:11). This statement, according to the commentaries, describes why Yisro has chosen to convert, to join Bnei Yisrael. It was not the might demonstrated by the plagues or the awe inspired by the splitting of the Sea, but rather the precision of the plagues in their mida for mida (trait for trait) punishment of the Mitzrim.

The understanding that Yisro joined Bnei Yisrael is interesting unto itself, but it is also I threshing that he did not stay with Bnei Yisrael. “Then Moses bade his father-in-law farewell, and he went his way to his own land” (ibid 18:27).

We are all familiar with the discussion that tries to define the Jews. Are we a nation? A religion? A culture? A tribe? And the answer is yes. Each one of these terms has its own decisions and nuances that could be used to describe an aspect of Bnei Yisrael, but none relays a complete description.

This week, I became a Canadian citizen. I did not do so because I saw something inherently good about being Canadian (which, of course, there are things to list), and I was not required to give up anything particular to who I am (dude, multiculturalism!). I became a citizen because I have lived there for 16 years and wanted to vote.

If Yisro wanted to join a nation, he would have stayed. But Yisro was declaring himself part of something bigger. He was giving up his previous life - the gods he had explored, the common beliefs with his neighbors. He was taking on an internal change.

The famous statement made about not being able to stand in the place of a Baal Teshuva is perhaps even more so true of a convert for they are truly casting off the life they had heretofore built. Yisro knows he can't go with Bnei Yisrael, perhaps because of his great age, nevertheless, we know the Yisro, in his core essence, bring Bnei Yisrael with him - and for each of us, in our day to day life, when we are not in our community or our shul or our usual Jewish life routine - need to take this inspiration with us.

Parshas Beshalach – What About the Walls

Dedicated to those who remain as hostages, may they know freedom soon, and to the brave chayalim who are fighting for Bnei Yisrael.

 

In this week’s parsha we read, about the incredible events that took Bnai Yisrael through the Yam Suf. The description is vividly familiar – waters parted, dry land on which to walk, an army bearing down behind, and walls of water on either side. When we hear of the walls of water, many of my particular generation might conjure up, a little too easily, images from Spielberg’s Prince of Egypt, which was a beautiful imagining but not necessarily how one should learn Torah.

 

There is something very significant about the way Bnei Yisrael walked through the Yam Suf. It is not just that they crossed on dry land, but that the waters formed a wall for them on their right and on their left. This idea was so important that the Torah mentions it twice in the span of a few verses, in Shemos 14:22 and 14:29.

 

There are, of course, the practical understandings brought down in the commentaries. In between pasuk 22 and 29, the Torah describes how the Egyptians entered the Sea and how the waters came crashing back down on them. The second mention of the walls of water is to emphasize the fact that there were still Israelites in the Sea, that Bnei Yisrael hadn’t fully crossed, but that the water remained parted where they were walking.

 

The repetition of these words, however, brought forth thoughts about walls. Walls are protection; they are security. One might ask why the Torah goes through the effort of stating that the wall formed on their right and on their left. Why was it not a wall before them, like a shield preventing water spillage from before them? Why was it not a wall behind them for a sense of security?

 

The most obvious answer is that the Egyptians needed to feel that it was possible for them to follow Bnei Yisrael. This was the way to guarantee their final ultimate demise. As to why not before them… the fact that this is not stated indicates that the Sea split in one grand motion.

 

There is a beautiful metaphor within the imagery of the splitting of the Sea, within the significance of the walls forming to the right and to the left. The way forward is the miracle, the path made by the Divine.  The way backward is not an option. And on either side are walls of water. The water creates a path; it gives shape to the way that the mass of people needs to move forward. In Jewish tradition, water is symbolic to Torah.  The Jewish people are blessed to have the opportunity to surround themselves with Torah and thus be able to find the path forward in life.

 

It is easy to wonder how the people perceived those walls? They must have been stupendous, miraculous. And if you were willing and wanting to perceive the miracle… what joy and splendor awaited.  But what about those who found it so awesome as to be terrifying, perhaps to those of the erev rav whose faith was so negligeable. Then what did those walls look like?

 

We won’t ever know, and so we must delve into the metaphysical understanding of krias Yam Suf.

 

Sometimes in life we feel like we are stuck, that we are trapped in situations that are harmful to us spiritually. And sometimes we are, and we must remove ourselves, must hurry forward. Many times, however, we need to take a look at the walls and see their source, and understand that everything that occurs is part of Hashem’s plan, is the Mayim Chayim of life.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Bo. – Negated Negotiations are Part of the Plan

Last week we passed the 100 day mark of the hostages being held in Gaza and the turmoil of outright war. We have watched in shock when the most simple and obvious international requests – the return of the hostage, getting medicine to our hostages, recognition of truth – are consistently denied or reinterpreted with modifications. But why are we surprised? Is this not, yet again, something we have seen before, something we have seen over and over throughout history.

In the world of our forefathers that we consider ancient times, Egypt was the dominant world power. They set the tone of the world, and the tone they took was that of the upper hand. The Israelites were their slaves. The Israelites were the potential enemy they were controlling. Slowly but surely, however, the Egyptian people realized that the price of keeping the Israelites was not worth it. But their leaders refused to relent. Their leaders refused to offer compromise that could be acceptable. Go for three days but leave your source of sustenance or offerings. Go for three days but leave your elderly and little ones. And even when Pharaoh’s ministers were telling him that it was over, that the time to relent had come, Pharaoh remained obdurate. He compromised and reneged, agreed and broke faith.

Villainy remains villainy throughout time. We are not the first to witness it, but, please Gd, we shall be the last.

In ancient days our forefathers must have looked about and wondered what would be. After all, when Moshe first spoke to Pharaoh, their load was made even harder. Things were tough and getting tougher. It is not rare to hear people question how Gd can allow bad things to happen in the world. If one were in ancient Egypt, one might have wondered why life was so horrid, why slavery and oppression was happening to them. Throughout history we ask why bad things happen to good people, or, on a larger scale, why bad things happen to the Jewish nation if we are Hashem’s chosen people. Certainly, right now, when 90-some percent of the world seems to be wanting to harm our nation, that question sparks beneath the surface. How do lies promulgate when they are so obviously untrue?

At the beginning of Parshas Shemos, Hashem tells Moshe “Come to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the heart of his servants, in order that I may place these signs of Mine in his midst, and in order that you tell into the ears of your son and your son's son how I made a mockery of the Egyptians, and [that you tell of] My signs that I placed in them, and you will know that I am the Lord" (10:1-2).

Hashem hardened Pharaoh’s heart is just a statement of Hashem’s omnipotence. The story of the Jews in Egypt was just the start of the necessary journey of all of humanity.

What do the Jewish people represent? We represent God in this world, but not in the way that that sounds; The Jews are the people who taught humanity that we, as creations, owe true fealty to the Creator and not to created gods that appease our need for worship without challenging our morality or, as more recent history has shown, to our own whims and will.

The world has free-will, and the way the Jewish people are treated in the world represents humankind’s metaphysical battle with accepting the fact that Hashem, and not they, are in control. For there to be that free-will, Hashem has to let the world run its course, has to let humankind think that it has power until… until He makes a mockery of them, until he breaks every rule of logic in order to remind us, the people who have dedicated themselves to Him, that there is always a bigger plan that Hashem is involved in.

What does it mean to make a mockery of something? It is to reveal its falsehood. God, through Moshe, showed Mitzrayim just how little power they had and that their Pharoah was as far as could be from a powerful god.

The Jews of the 21st century have the benefit of the Torah and the centuries of history to help us stay strong. Our faith must be stronger than the will of our enemies. Our faith must be stronger than feeling and whims. Our faith must be more than faith; it must be knowledge that Hashem is always in control.

Parshas Vaera: Beyond Hail

Dedicated to the hostages as a prayer for their release after 100 days in captivity. May Hashem bring them home and may we find a path to peace until Moshiach arrives, bimheira b’yameinu.

In Jewish tradition ,the number seven has a great deal of significance. It is, as you probably know, the number that symbolizes nature and wholeness. Nature is one of the most awesome demonstrations of Hashem’s magnificence in the world. The awe that nature inspires can be inspirational, or it can be terrifying. And there are few demonstrations of nature that have the potential to be more beautiful or more frightening than the weather…which is, in truth, why it is actually rather fascinating that it is only at the 7th makka that Hashem involves weather.

Without question the first six makkos were terrifying in their own rights. However, the people of Mitzrayim were able to explain those makkos. After all, the chartumim (magicians) were able to turn water into blood – although to a lesser extent – and could even call up frogs. And lice, insect swarms, dying livestock, and excessively contagious skin diseases were, on some level relatable. As devastating as they were, each plague subsided within a week, and human nature has an uncanny ability to minimize and recategorize events. We know this all too well in our own time…how easily Covid recessed from our minds.

One could say that weather events are the same…naturally disastrous events that we expect to occur on a regular basis. (Didn’t all us Montrealers – and our guests – survive the Pesach ice storm!). The plague of barad, hail, was an altogether different situation. In a land where rain is rare, they saw fire and ice coming down from the sky. This was nature coming undone, and this was the seventh plague.

When the Torah describes the plague of hail in parshas Va’era, there is an interesting phrase used in Hashem’s instructions on what Moshe should say to Pharaoh: “Because this time, I am sending all My plagues into your heart and into your servants and into your people, in order that you know that there is none like Me in the entire earth” (9:14).

This pasuk is worth exploring for its particular wording. What can it mean that Hashem is sending ALL of His plagues when there are three yet to come and there have already been six, and why will these go into the heart?

Perhaps, and yes this is me going out on my own line of thought, one can see in this a connection to the elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Earth and Air are constants in the Egyptian world, Fire seems controlled by man, and Water – particularly in a culture dedicated to praying for the Nile water – is divine. When Fire and Water come from the Air and smash into the Land causing utter destruction, nature has been uprooted. Suddenly, it becomes unquestionable that all of the plagues are beyond nature.

Most of us think of Egypt being struck were the English term “Ten Plagues,” but in Hebrew we usually refer to the plagues as makkos, which means strikes. In this pasuk, however, when Hashem says “all of His plagues,” the word used is magefati. Magefah, a more literal plague, is connected to the word goof, or body. It is interesting that Hashem is telling Moshe to use this word right after the sixth plague, which was boils. The first five plagues were external attacks. The sixth was the most like an actual physical plague or illness. This wording was a striking reminder to Pharaoh that Hashem has control over everything, not just the physical world, not just the elements.

And what about the heart? Just before Hashem begins speaking to Moshe, the Torah tells us in 9:12: “But the Lord strengthened Pharaoh's heart, and he did not hearken to them, as the Lord spoke to Moshe.”

Following the sixth plague, the Torah tells us that Hashem strengthened Pharaoh’s resolve. It is inferred that Pharaoh was, perhaps, about to relent. But he was willing to do so because “And the magicians could not stand before Moshe because of the boils, for the boils were upon the magicians and upon all Egypt” (9:11). Pharaoh was finally beginning to understand that he was dealing with a power far beyond what he could even hope to control…but he still did not recognize the ultimate power of Hashem.

Hashem has strengthened Pharaoh’s heart and now Hashem is declaring that He will send all of the plagues into Pharaoh’s heart. There is no escape. There is no rationalizing and scientific theory. There is no accounting for that which has happened and that which is about to happen except for God, and Hashem is declaring through Moshe that now Pharaoh will be forced to come to terms with that.

The seventh plague is a transition. The whole of nature has been overturned. Even the elements have turned against Mitzrayim. It is also the first time that Pharaoh acknowledges the true awe he should have before Hashem: “I have sinned this time. The Lord is the righteous One, and I and my people are the guilty ones” (9:27).

It is human nature to try to explain the world, to try to find scientific explanations for that which we see and experience. Right now, most of us – in our minds, at least – are trying to find logical, rational, explanations for vicious monsters being hailed as hapless victims. The answer, we must remind ourselves constantly, is that Hashem runs the world. That nature and science and logic are all part of the goof’s need to put order to the world. From Shemos 9, however, we have a distinct reminder that the Grand Scheme, from devastating earthquakes to obtuse accusations, are beyond human control.

Parshas Shemos – Who me?

Dedicated as a tefilla for the speedy end to these challenging times.

The fourth perek of Sefer Shemos begins in a seemingly abrupt manner: “Moshe answered and said, "Behold they will not believe me, and they will not heed my voice, but they will say, 'The Lord has not appeared to you'" (Shemos 4:1).

This response comes in the middle of the narrative of the burning bush, and this narrative is well-known for highlighting Moshe’s reluctance to take on the role of leadership. Indeed, he questions his capabilities, and thus Hashem’s choice, both before and after this pasuk (verse):

“But Moshe said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should take the children of Israel out of Egypt?... And Moshe said to God, "Behold I come to the children of Israel, and I say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' and they say to me, 'What is His name?' what shall I say to them?" (3:11,13)

And

“"I beseech You, O Lord. I am not a man of words, neither from yesterday nor from the day before yesterday, nor from the time You have spoken to Your servant, for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue… But he said, "I beseech You, O Lord, send now [Your message] with whom You would send" (4:10, 13).

Moshe’s first response is logical. He was an Egyptian prince; it makes no sense for Bnei Yisrael to believe him. His third response is also logical because he is noting an actual limitation, a speech impediment. It is interesting, however, that this is the verse that most often leads into a discussion of Moshe’s sense of self, of his allowing insecurity to take hold. That discussion seems most appropriate for our originally quoted pasuk, 4:1.

Perhaps you are wondering why it is significant to consider which refusal of Moshe has deeper meaning. The important part, after all, is understanding that at Moshe’s first conversation with Hashem, he tried to remove himself from the position of leader, and thus we can understand that Moshe, though raised as a prince, was a humble person.

But there is significance here. Indeed, the significance stands out from the fact that these are the first words of a perek (chapter). Perek daled begins, literally, with an answer, v’ya’an. But answers are, by nature, the response to a question, or, at the very least, to a statement. So why would this be the place to start the perek.* It certainly wasn’t a worry that a perek would be too long. Perek Gimmel is only 22 verses.

This is the pasuk that shows us the real humanity of Moshe. Not his humility, his humanity. Moshe’s response to this intense set of instructions is to worry, again, that “they will not heed my voice.” He was able to ignore everything else that he was being told. He didn’t question the wisdom of bringing the elders to Pharoah. He didn’t argue about asking to take the slaves out for a three-day holiday, which might seem like a pittance. He didn’t ask why Hashem wanted him to go to Pharaoh if Pharaoh would only reject him and that Hashem knew this.

Moshe’s been given the words to prove himself. He’s been told exactly what will happen. And Moshe still gets stuck on the very first line of God’s instruction: Go to the elders. His question here is a question that every person faces at different points in their lives: What if they don’t hear me? What if they reject me? What if they don’t accept me?

Opportunities for leadership abound (obviously not generally so significant or important as Moshe’s). We see it all the time in our communities where there is such deep need for leadership and so many opportunities to organize tzedakah and chesed outlets. Perek Daled is asking us, each individual, to recognize that when we say, “Who me?” or “Oh someone else will take charge of that,” we are ignoring the fact that Hashem always has a well-laid out plan for us and our own insecurities are often the biggest impediments to letting Him show us His direct involvement.

Moshe was a stranger. Moshe had a speech impediment. But most significantly, Hashem did not let Moshe get stuck on worrying about how others would react to him. This verse, simple as it may be, holds a very important lesson for life.

*This could also turn to a discussion of the history of pasuk and perek (verse and chapter). The Torah was not given to Am Yisrael with these divisions. They were added later, by Christians in the Middle Ages. They have, however become accepted, and so one wonders why it was decided that this was a good place to start a new chapter.