Parshas Matos-Masai: Lessons in Communication

 Warning: This Dvar Torah may upset people with strong feminist views.

 Parshas Matos-Masai begins with a topic that, on first read, might seem troubling to a modern-day woman. After one verse (30:3) stating that a man who makes a vow is required to uphold that vow, the Torah goes into a rather detailed explanation of the vows of women and, some might say, how easily those vows can be nullified.

 Bamidbar 30:4 begins with basic terminology: v’eesha ki tidor neder – If a woman makes a vow… but the first example is quickly explained to be a woman still living in her father’s house for reason of her youth. This woman, living in her father’s house, can make a vow or a self-imposed obligation and must keep it…unless her father objects (30:6) that day. If she has taken it upon herself while single and then gets married, her new husband can nullify that vow (30:9). Verses 11-17 describe the similar rules that apply to a married woman making a vow or a self-imposed obligation but in more detail, details that offer us great insight into the importance of communication in marriage.

 The husband of a woman who makes a vow has the ability to nullify the vow of his wife, but only if he does so within the day of hearing of her vow. This, it should be pointed out, is an interesting use of language. The nullification does not have to occur on the day the vow was made, but rather on the day that her husband learns of the vow. She is not, it appears, under an obligation to tell her husband about her vow, which allows her time to lay down the foundations for him to understand her actions so that when he does learn of them, he will not object.

 The Torah is then very explicit: “If her husband offers no objection from that day to the next, he has upheld all the vows or obligations she has assumed: he has upheld them by offering no objection on the day he found out” (30:15).

 The Torah goes to great length stressing that the husband has one day to object to the vow or self-imposed obligation. If he objects two weeks later, or even two days later, he shall bear the guilt for every time his wife does something contrary to her vow or obligation.

 The Torah wants marriage and family to succeed. It recognizes a dynamic in the pairing of male and female for him to seek a sense of being respect and her to seek affection and “protection” (yes, this is a broad generalization and a far more complicated discussion). The husband is given the role of head of the house because he needs that respect. That role does not mean he is greater/she is lesser. It is practical in that, until most recent history, a man’s role was to be protector and provider. He needed a strong sense of importance to do his job well, a sense of others depending on him. This need has not changed, even in the world of white-collar jobs and two income families. Torah philosophy consistently defines the masculine as the giver, and the giver thrives on being needed and respected for his efforts.

 The feminine, on the other hand, is the receiver and thus the one who feels fulfilled by being given to. These definitions create the dynamic brought to fruition in halacha for a “Head of the Household.” This dynamic is precisely the issue at play in the question of vows, and the unstated solution to a sense of restriction is communication.

 It is easy to see the subject in these pasukim as seconding women, except that there are some very specific words that show it is not about women per se but about a woman’s place in her family. The first halacha stated above is for a woman living in her father’s household due to her youth. This may set off concern to the modern-day reader, but the actuality is clarified in the Shulchan Aruch: “After six months of adulthood (physical maturity as defined by halacha), she is fully independent, and the father no longer has authority over her vows” (Shulchan Aruch Yoreh De'ah 234:1). One could see the time when the father can restrict her vows as the tumultuous time period of early adolescence, which to many parents might make sense.

 Bamidbar 30:10, set in-between the young bride whose husband nullifies vows she made in her youth and the vows of a wife, states: “The vow of a widow or of a divorced woman, however, whatever she has imposed on herself, shall be binding upon her” (30:10). They are the same category as a woman not living under her father’s household.

 A woman is not seen as less capable or less reliable than a man in determining her future. Rather, the Torah is here recognizing that the role of Baal HaBayit (Head of the House) is given to the man. He is set as the captain of the ship so that he may best fulfill his role of giver, as protector and provider. To maintain this dynamic, the Torah restricts ways in which a woman might undermine her husband but, at the same time, limits the ways in which a man might manipulate his wife. And this leaves us at a critical juncture in which reading deeper provides a valuable lesson. If a wife wants to make a vow that will affect the household (and that covers most things since each member of a household is a cog in its functioning), she should discuss it with the head of that household. If a husband does not like changes made by his wife by having taken a vow, he cannot just nullify it once it has been accepted; rather, he must speak to her in order that she agrees to nullify it for herself.

 And, thus, we come to the age old lesson on the importance of communication.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.  

 

 

 

 

Parshas Pinchas – The Power of Standing Up

 Dedicated to a Refuah Shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Parshas Pinchas is a parsha that focuses on bravery and heroism, on stepping forward in order to ensure that the correct path is followed. The greatest heroics in Parshas Pinchas, however, are not the remembrance of Pinchas’ act of casting his spear at the unabashed Zimri and Cosbi. Rather, the greatest act of bravery came from Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza.

 

The story of the daughters of Tzelafchad is well-known. They requested of Moshe that they inherit their father’s portion in the upcoming allotments of the Promised Land. Moshe asked Hashem what to do. Hashem not only stated that the sisters were correct but set out the laws of inheritance to include daughters when there is no male heir. 

 

The sages note that these women were “wise, they are interpreters [of verses], and they are righteous. [That] they are wise [can be seen from the fact] that they spoke in accordance with the moment, (they presented their case at an auspicious time). As Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzḥak says: Tradition teaches that Moshe our teacher was sitting and interpreting in the Torah portion about men whose married brothers had died childless, as it is stated: “If brothers dwell together, [and one of them dies…]” (Bava Batra 119b:).

 

Bamidbar Rabbah 21:11 states: “What was their wisdom? It is that they spoke at that moment when Moshe was engaged in the portion of the inheritances: ‘To these the land shall be distributed’ (Bamidbar 26:53). They said to him: If we are like a son, let us inherit. If not, let our mother be subject to levirate marriage.” If a woman who bore a daughter did not need to go into a levirate marriage, then one could understand that a daughter had rights to inheritance like a son when there is no son.

 

Their claim was not a fancy or a whim but a complex aspect of halacha. Their goal was similar to the goal of the levirate Marriage – that the name of their family would not be lost to history.

 

We don’t often think of something like a legal assertion as being heroic, but what happened with the daughters of Tzelaphchad was as brave as that which happened with Pinchas. Pinchas knew the law and carried out that law by killing Zimri (and Cosbi). The daughters of Tzelaphchad knew the law and stood up to declare that it need to be enforced. 

 

They did something incredibly difficult and brave. They stood up and spoke out for themselves. 

 

This may not seem like such a brave thing, but it is something which should not be dismissed. The other recorded times in the Torah when someone approached Moshe with a challenge or a request things didn’t turn out so well (the spies, Korach, the complainers). The Or HaChaim notes that the Zohar in Parshas Balak comments that the daughters confronted Moshe with others around because they were worried that he would hold a bias against them. He writes: “Why would [women] who have been described as righteous by the Talmud assume that Moshe had hatred in his heart against them or their late father? … It is possible that they were afraid that just as with the people who had complained in Parshat Beha-a-lotcha, as well as the spies who had forfeited their inheritance in the land because they had raised their voices against Moshe and against G'd, Moshe would rule similarly against them on account of the sin of their late father” (Or HaChaim on Numbers 27:2:3).

 

The real bravery was not overcoming their fear of bias, however. Rather it was that these women saw that the law needed to be clarified and they did not leave it for someone else to speak up. Whether we like to discuss it or not, approaching the assembly and appealing to Moshe was entering the realm of the man’s world. In the Jewish world, halacha and its discernment is very much in the man’s realm. They didn’t let that stop them. They knew what their rights were, and they didn’t fall back to thinking of themselves as just helpless maidens or insignificant women. They stood up and put halacha first.

 

Little is known about the individual sisters. However, Hebrewversity .com had this interesting understanding of their names:

“Machla – like the Hebrew verb ‘Le-Cholel’ - which means ‘to move’ (and ‘to dance’ in Modern Hebrew). Noha -like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Nua’ - which means ‘to move’ as well. Choglah  – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Chug’ – which means ‘to circle.’ Milcah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Lechet’ - which means ‘to walk.’ And Tirzah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Rutz’ – which means ‘to run.’

As you probably noticed they ALL have something to do with the concept of ‘moving’ naturally but in Hebrew ALL of these verbs are also connected to the concept of ‘initiating’ or simply ‘be active’ and that was precisely what the daughters of Zelophehad symbolized. (Hebrewversity .com)

 

The daughters of Tzelaphchad  - Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza – moved Klal Yisrael. They refused to be complacent when they knew of a wrong that needed to be righted. They longed to move forward and have their descendants flourish uniquely among the burgeoning nation. And so they took action and Hashem said Kain- yes.

 

May we all have the strength to stand up when it is right and to present our needs calmly and respectfully and may our actions move us and all of Klal Yisrael ever forward. 

Parshas Balak: The Real Evil

 Parshas Balak is, perhaps, the most narratively oriented parsha in Sefer Bamidbar. There are no sections of law nor any descriptions of ritual acts. There is the story of how Bilaam tried to curse the Jews, and, really, that is all.

 The story of Bilaam’s attempt to curse the Jews reverberates throughout history, just as the blessings that came out of his mouth continue to inspire and empower us. As with all of Torah, parshas Balak helps us understand the world a little better – and in this case that means learning more about the insidious nature of our enemies, of the people who hate Bnei Yisrael without even really knowing Bnei Yisrael.

 While reading Parshas Balak, it might be easy to assume the primary enemy of Israel is Bilaam. As wicked as he was, and as desirous as he was to curse Bnei Yisrael, Bilaam was a tool, a weapon…a proxy. Bilaam was the face of evil, but he was in his position because of a puppet master – Balak.

 Balak ben Tzipor’s name is mentioned over and over again in the Parsha, but mostly as he responds to Bilaam. Balak isn’t interesting. He doesn’t actively negotiate, he doesn’t talk to his she-donkey, and he doesn’t speak to Hashem. Nevertheless, the actual enemy  - the one who outrightly seeks to malign the Jews - is Balak ben Tzipor.

 In the year 5785/2025, we can all too well relate the idea of a hidden evil that works through proxies. Money is power. Balak used his wealth to entice Bilaam into action; Iran used their wealth to supply their proxies with weapons. And it didn’t matter how many times God said no or that the proxies were defeated, the enemy does not stop.

 Balak ben Tzipor is not introduced as the king of Moav. This information is only revealed in pasuk daled (4). Rather, the Parsha begins “Balak son of Tzipor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites. Moab became terrified of the people, for they were numerous…” (Bamidbar 22:2-3). There is a man, and there is a people. The man saw that the Amorites had been defeated, and he chose to ignore the fact that the Amorites were the ones who attacked. Bnei Yisrael asked only for safe passage. They were attacked and then they were victorious, and to Balak that was not normal since the Amorites had been powerful enough to overtake parts of Moab. Balak the man saw that this small, wandering nation had defeated Sichon, and he inflamed his nation to fear.

 Balak ben Tzipor was afraid of Bnei Yisrael because he understood that this was beyond natural. Balak was, according to the Midrash, a sorcerer in his own right. Indeed, from his name it is deduced that his magic was connected to birds (Tzipor). Interestingly, in some cases of Biblical word play, it is acceptable to look at a word with a tzadi and read it as a samech, in which case tzipor (bird) becomes sipor – story.  Such a name transformation explains, perhaps, Bamidbar 22:4: “Moab said to the elders of Midian, ‘Now this assembly will devour everything around us, as the work-bull devours the greens of the field.’ Balak son of Tzipor was king of Moab at that time.” But Bnei Yisrael had not gathered on their border with the intention of attacking. They wanted safe passage. Neverthless, Balak ben Tzipor a man with no great strength, was afraid and built a story about these people.

 Balak fed his people a story, which increased their fear: “Moab dreaded the Israelites” (22:3). The Moabites took that fear and brought the story forward such that now the Israelites become devourers… and by the time Balak has sent his messengers to Bilaam, the Israelites are “a people that came out of Egypt; it hides the earth from view, and it is settled next to me” (22:5).

 According to this message, the Children of Israel seemed so numerous that they covered the world. No hyperbole there? The Torah states in 22:1, at the end of last week’s patsha, “The Israelites journeyed and camped in the plains of Moab, across the Jordan River from Jericho.”  They camped; they did not settle. They were on the plains, not covering all of the earth.

 Today, the Jewish population of the world today is 15.7 million out of 8 billion, and still there are rumors and tales that Jews control the world and are everywhere. Our enemy has, in the last 30 years, learned to weave tales and twist truth so that the goal of trying to destroy the Jewish people can continue. The enemy, like Balak, is willing to give away a fortune and to cultivate proxies, and even to bring in weapons of true destruction. In Balak’s case, Bilaam, was that weapon. Bilaam had the spiritual energy comparable to Moshe, so had his curses succeeded, had the real iron dome of Divine will, not interceded, the Jewish people would have been decimated.

 The narrative of Parshas Balak can seem mystical and mysterious and beyond 21^st century standards of what is normal (the talking donkey and all that), but in fact, it is all too familiar a narrative.  We must, therefore, take special care to notice what happens after Bilaam stops attacking the Israelites, for that is where we failed. When Bilaam stopped attacking the Israelites, he suggested taking down Bnei Yisrael on a moral level, which led to the terrible acts at Baal Peor. As we fight our enemies today, let us not forget who we are and what we stand for both during and after the battles that must be won.

 I wish you alla  beautiful and peace filled Shabbas.

Parshas Chukas: Chizuk in Chukas

The Jewish nation has spent the last nearly two years in a high state of alert and war. Those in Israel have experienced what we in the diaspora cannot imagine, and we in the diaspora have tasted much that we had assumed had been expiated by western idealism (snort). Needless to say, perspectives have shifted.

Throughout all of this, we persevere, and now we have come again to a parsha that is laden with history. Parshas Chukas is most famous for its focus on the red heifer. However, other than teaching us, directly, about the importance of observing chukos, laws for which we have no rationale, this parsha contains a fascinating reminder of the national journey and how rarely it was smooth. Taken together, the second section of Parshas Chukas draws a global picture of the challenge of being a nation dedicated to maintaining emunah and bitachon.

Following the precise directions for the service of the red heifer, the parsha records a series of short but detailed events.  Miriam dies, and with her death, the source of water disappears. This brings the first complaints. The cry of the people is answered with a miracle as Moshe and Aaron bring water from the rock. This is followed by their interaction with the Edomites, who are left in peace even after they were inhospitable.

Let us pause and take that apart:

The people were disheartened by the loss of one of their spiritual leaders. They saw the physical effect her death had on their world, and they were shaken. They were unable to see a way to bring back something attached to someone on such a spiritual high; they were unable to envision that they could strive toward such collective merit. They received a miracle, but that miracle came at a price in which they learn that even their greatest can make a mistake. This was followed by a confrontation with an enemy who did not show them respect and from whom they turned away and avoided. And while they went around Edom because Hashem commanded them not to fight with Edom due to their relationship, it felt, perhaps, as if they were avoiding defeat. Certainly, one can imagine, their rerouting around Edom felt like a disheartening delay.

The Torah then continues with Aaron’s less shocking death (less shocking because Hashem prepared the nation that he would be gathered to his fathers). He transfers his office to his son, but his loss is devastating to the people, as was Miriam’s. Shortly thereafter, they are involved in a skirmish with a group whom the Midrash explains were Amalekits dressed as Canaanites. These soldiers of the king of Arad manage to take captive(s) but are then defeated. Regardless of this victory, however, the people complain once again about their lack of provisions – more specifically about their boredom with the manna. The consequence of this complaint – snakes - is also resolved with a miracle, that of Moshe’s snake-enhanced staff that ends the plague per Hashem’s word.

Seen together, we once again see how the loss of a great leader, the trauma that loss causes to the people, is not just on the metaphysical realm, where a channel to holiness has closed, but on the morale of the people as a whole. The first sign of this shift is, interestingly, in the language used to describe the skirmish with the men of the king of Arad:

“Then Israel made a vow to Hashem and said, ‘If You deliver this people into our hand, we will proscribe their towns.’ Hashem heeded Israel’s plea and delivered up the Canaanites; and they and their cities were proscribed. So that place was named Hormah” (Bamidbar 21:2-3).

Why are they making a vow to Hashem, and why one worded like a bargain? Why are they ignoring who they are and the fact that Hashem has promised to be with them. The answer is, perhaps, that they no longer felt certain. They were recovering from the mortality of those who seemed like pillars of existence to them.

When there is a lack of morale, when people are stuck in a “why us” mindframe, there is often a waning of emuna and bitachon. When there is a lack of morale, the people complain: “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water” (Bamidbar 21:5). When there is a lack of emuna and bitachon, the problem goes deeper: “and we have come to loathe this miserable food” (ibid.).

The plague of poisonous snakes that followed was not because they complained of physical discomfort, of being hungry and thirsty. Hashem had heard this complaint before. The plague of poisonous snakes was direct result of the viper of despair that they had allowed to grow within their midst from the death of Aaron.

National tragedies, complaints, wars, and miracles – a rather startling combination repeated twice, repeated throughout history. Alas, within all that is occurring in the third decade of the 21^st century (or the 9^th decade of the 58^th century, depending on the calendar), it seems that Parshas Chukas has great resonance. The question is how we hear it? History may repeat itself, but our response in each repetition is what becomes significant. It is up to us to avoid “vipers of despair,” and to reach for new opportunities to develop a connection to Hashem.

 

Parshas Shelach: Finding Bitachon

The parsha of Shelach is one that reverberates through history. It is, as is commonly known, the source of Tisha B’av, as the day that the Jews cried out their fear of entering the Promised Land was the 9th of Av; and, alas, throughout history, Hashem has given us reasons to feel true sorrow on that day.

Parshas Shelach is a parsha from which one can mine deep hashgafic questions and delve into the relationship of Klal Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael. This year, however, it seems almost cavalier to discuss the situation in Eretz Yisrael, as if it is minimalizing the events taking place, chas v’shalom. However, not noting the important connections to this week’s parsha would, perhaps, be obscuring an opportunity to work on ourselves as individuals and as a nation.

One of the most frequently spoken of lessons from Parshas Shelach is one of distorted reality and the power of language. The scouts returned and described what they saw in such a way as to disparage the land and make it seem as if a terrible fate awaited them. And the nation believed them… and cried… and were punished. We often wonder how this could have happened - how leaders of the shevatim could have forgotten everything Hashem had done for them and seen such a negative space. 

The sin of the scouts has been writ large in 5785. It hasn’t been just our enemies who have vilified klal Yisrael, but our own fellow Jews who have joined rallies that distort reality and spread lies, that repeat old tropes of anti-Semitism in a new light. What started as a sliver of negative voices persisted and grew throughout the last almost 2 years, and it has an effect. Doubt begets doubt; people are drawn to a negative world view and a sense of doom - just look at the news. 

Noticing the effect of these voices, however, is a reminder to Klal Yisrael that our view of the world - of world events and of personal events - should be filtered with the lens of bitachon. 

One of the primary concepts that are drawn from Parshas Shelach is the importance of understanding emunah and bitachon. On the verge of entering the Promised Land, the people asked Moshe if they could send men to scout out the land. They spoke of their motive as a need to know what they would be facing, as a lacking in themselves, but they were projecting. They were not doubting their abilities; they were doubting the divine promise. Their emunah was strong; they did not doubt Hashem as the ultimate power. What was lacking was their bitachon, their belief that Hashem intercedes for them in the common actions of mankind. Bnei Yisrael could believe in miracles, especially after they had lived through so many wondrously- miraculous situations, but they had trouble believing in the continued manifestation of that help. They looked at the world from their perspective only and neglected to remember the basic bitachon. What we perceive as miracles are simply larger demonstrations of what Hashem does every moment of every day of every life. 

This is all too relatable to 5785. In truth, this lesson is relatable in all times - not just in crisis. It is all too common to believe in Hashem and to believe in His guidance of the world, while, at the same time, not truly trusting what the future will bring. Bitachon in its highest practice is understanding that Hashem will make the best future for you (whether it is what you want or not does not always reconcile). We try to view the world as if it is in our control, but far, far greater guidance is always at play.

The world at large wants to believe that they have control, that they have power. They want to attribute their successes to themselves alone (and their defeats, of course, to someone else). Those who have joined the ranks of Hamas supporters, who chant terrible slogans and look the other way, deliberately, at acts of violent anti-Semitism believe the reality they are looking for rather than the reality of Hashem’s world. The scouts came back and reported that the land devoured its inhabitants when, as the Midrash details, Hashem caused illness in the land so that the Cananites would be preoccupied while the scouts were wandering the land. The scouts wanted to have a reason to avoid entering the Promised Land. They were afraid of what the next step in life would be.

It’s possible, even probable, that they themselves did not understand their underlying fears and motivations. We often neglect to analyze our own drives. And it is possible, even probable, that the biggest fear they had was living bitachon. 

Bitachon is the heartbeat of Jewish faith. Accepting that everything Hashem does is for the good is easy in words and much more challenging in thought and action. Recognizing that we must put in effort even as Hashem controls all outcomes is almost contrary to human nature… but that is the work that we all strive to do on ourselves. That is the essence of living Torah. 

The world right now is in a crossroad of upheaval. It feels like so many facets are out of control and misaligned. None of that is by chance. None of that is human doing alone. The lesson we can take from Parshas Shelach is that it is the responsibility of Klal Yisrael, of the nation who has benefitted and continues to benefit, from so many miracles, to look beyond the surface and find the reality of Divine will in our lives. 

I speak this lesson of bitachon to myself as I remind myself that when it is the right time, Hashem will fit all the pieces together for us to be able to bring Shevi home. For now, however, I hope that she can see the miracles involved when Israel is at war.

May this Shabbas be one that brings blessing and peace and hatzlacha to the world and to Klal Yisrael in particular.  

Parshas Behalosecha: The Path was Always Meant to be Hard

 Parshas Behalosecha: The Path was Always Meant to be Hard

 Dedicated with tefilos for the safety of klal Yisrael in this tenuous time, and to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 Do you know what happened on the 20^th of Iyar, the second month of the year when you count from Passover. Before you invest time trying to remember all your high school classes or to rack your brain thinking of a holiday that falls on the 20^th of Iyar, know that it is a date with a rare status. It is in the Torah, but it is not a chag.

 The 20^th of Iyar was the day the Jews left Horev, left the base camp around Har Sinai. It was a big deal. They weren’t leaving Har Sinai with the intent to go wander in the Midbar for 38 more years. They were heading for the Promised Land.

 What is interesting is that the Torah provides us with such a specific date. One might think that it was something we would continue to note, that there would be some spiritual resonance as we see on so many other specific dates. Wasn’t Hashem assembling us and setting us in motion an indication that we were ready?

 Bnei Yisrael probably thought so. They probably thought they had resolved their issues.  I mean, look at the time frame: They had been at Har Sinai almost an entire year, and that can feel like a long time. True, a little over forty days after they arrived they had undone themselves with the Chait Haegel, but there had been repercussions – deaths – and there had been heartfelt teshuva. Moshe had returned again to the mountaintop for another forty days, and thus the first 100 days (roughly, obviously) had passed.

 To a human being, one year (and we see this is less) can feel like an incredibly long period of time. And while research may suggest that it takes two months to form or break a habit, changing deeper personal issues, such as addiction, requires a much longer commitment. Bnei Yisrael’s habits had changed. They seemed more present and capable on the externals because they were more focused on the right actions and goals, but deep down they had not truly repaired their weaknesses. Bnei Yisrael only looked ready on the surface. From the very chapter where we are set in motion, we see the fading of our spiritual resilience. Hardly had the nation set out then the complaints began. Most famously, from this week’s parsha, is the demand for meat. There was literally food falling from the sky and a raucous group of people wanted to know where the McDs was, so to speak.

 So why did we go? Why did Hashem begin the journey since, surely, He understood Bnei Yisrael’s true state? Perhaps the answer is that the journey had to start. Ready or not here I come, as we all say in childhood. You can’t grow if you stay in the same place. You have to take the journey in order to get to the destination. You have to fight your own inclinations in order to really change.

 Moshe, a man, was frustrated and distraught by the continual complaints and weaknesses of Bnei Yisrael, as we see in Bamidbar 11:11-15

Moses said to God, “Why have You treated me, Your servant, so badly? Why have I not found favor in Your regard, that You place the burden of this entire people upon me? Did I conceive this entire people? Did I give birth to them, that You say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom, as a nursing woman carries a suckling,’ to the land You promised their forefathers? Where can I get meat to give all these people? For they are crying to me, saying, ‘Give us meat to eat.’ I cannot carry the responsibility of this entire people alone, for it is too hard for me. If this is the way You want to treat me, please kill me first, if I have found favor in Your regard, so that I not see my evil.”

Hashem’s anger, perhaps, was not at their actions but at the frustration at the fact that so many of them were not doing the necessary internal work that was necessary. He did not care that they wanted meat; He cared that they thought He could not provide it. He cared that they could not see beyond the immediate and the physical when the going got tough – and it wasn’t that tough.

 Thus Hashem declared “Is there a limit to Hashem’s power? You shall soon see whether what I have said happens to you or not!” (11:23). Those words, powerful in the situation at hand, are even more powerful over the resonance of world history. Life, individual and national, was never going to be easy. The need and desire for easy was not how Hashem designed the world. Easy does not lead to appreciation or connection or growth. It leads to apathy.

 Anyone who expects life to be easy has not read the Torah with open eyes. Hashem never promised Bnei Yisrael a walk in the park. It is interesting to note that we see this even in the previous perek when Hashem commands the fashioning of the two silver trumpets and explains that they are to be sounded to bring the people to assemble or to commence the movement of the camp. Then, however, Hashem added that

“If you go to war in your land against an adversary who attacks you, you must blow a teru’ah with the trumpets and be remembered favorably before God, your God, and thus be saved from your enemies. On your joyous days, on your festivals, and on your new-moon celebrations, you must blow a teki’ah on the trumpets, over your ascent-offerings and your peace-promoting feast-offerings, and it will be a remembrance before your God; I am God, your God” (10:9-10).

 There will be war. There will be struggle. But there will be feasts and festivals and joy. This is life. This is the only path to growth, and we, Bnei Yisrael, each have our individual journeys through which we develop our spiritual muscles, and our journey as a nation.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas and hatzlacha on your path of growth.

Parshas Bamidbar: Organizing Ourselves for Society

 Do you get the sense that the world is “messy” right now? Like there was a period, perhaps even less than a decade ago, when it felt like the world was starting to come together as a cohesive-ish unit (okay, barring Israel and the Divinely ordained disconnect), but now everything seems to be breaking down? Certainly, there is a sense from the news (which, of course, loves to poke and enflame problems) that law and order has dissolved in Western Society.

 

This week, we are brought back to Sefer Bamidbar. In English, this sefer is known as the Book of Numbers because it opens with a counting of Bnei Yisrael. The beginning of Sefer Bamidbar is about something incredibly important on a more global scale. The first parsha of Sefer Bamidar is about order.  This week’s parsha not only covers Moshe taking a census (because knowing how many people one has is important), but also appointing tribal leaders, providing placement instructions for each tribe during encampment, and organizing the specific jobs for maintaining the Mishkan.

 

These events, this parsha, is placed in time, according to the Chabad.org source, one month after the inauguration of the Mishkan and several weeks before the Jews will depart from Mount Sinai…” At Har Sinai, our nation was forged into a unit. We received the Torah, and that was wonderful, but we couldn’t move forward in living a full Torah life until we put into place the necessary systems to do so.

 

In just a few days, we will celebrate Shavuos, that holiday the commemorates and celebrates receiving the Torah on Har Sinai. The Torah is a blueprint for living, for fulfilling our spiritual tafkid (purpose). Many mitzvos put order to the spiritual world, but here Hashem made certain that we put order to the physical world of our people as well.

 

It is often said that the politics swings like a pendulum. A leader takes things too far to the left, and the right swoops in to correct. In far too many situations, the swing of that pendulum is extreme. Chaos on the left; Suffocation on the right – And most people, really, just wanting to live in the moderate middle (or a little the right or a little to the left). From Parshas Bamidbar we are reminded that for society to move forward, we must stop and take stock of who we are, organize ourselves for our strengths, choose good leaders, and only then can we begin to move forward.

 

This was short, sweet -  I hope- and probably a little chaotic, but I hope it gave you a sense of connection to the parsha and the times we live in. I wish you all a good Shabbas and a Good Yom Tov.

Parshas Behar-Bechukosai: Be a Mentch

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Sharon bas Shoshana, and Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah

 

Bein adam l’chavero, the mitzvos between one person and another, are the bedrock of civilization. More than that, these Torah’s mitzvos are – to be blunt – fascinating in their constant application to every aspect of life.

 

This week’s parsha, Behar-Bechukosai starts with the laws of Shmittah, during which the Jewish nation demonstrates their deep trust in Hashem and their Divinely imposed respect for the land. It then moves on to the laws of the years of Yuval, Jubilee, and through that discusses the many limitations of selling property in the Holy Land. Basically, in summary, one can really only lease land on a pro-rated scale as it must revert to its original portioning at the coming of the Yuval.

 

Through these discussions of real estate, however, comes the very significant commandment of Al Tonu Eish Et Ahav – you must not cheat one man to another.

 

From here come the laws connected to Onaas Devarim, using words to hurt another. These laws cover such subtle issues as misleading a salesman that you might have the intention to buy something when, in all honesty, you are simply price comparing. You cannot give a fellow Jew the impression that you are going to give them business on false pretext. That, of course, is just one example. The unfortunate “opportunities” for onaas devarim are…multitudinous, almost as vast as the opportunities for lashon harah and rechilus, and the primary reason for this is that most of us have an incredibly difficult time being truly mindful of our speech and actions.

 

The idea of “vexing” – of causing hardship or wrongness – is so important that it is mentioned twice in the same perek, which seems a little odd. In pasuk 14, it says: “When you sell property to your neighbor, or buy any from your neighbor, you shall not wrong one another.” Three pasukim later, in verse 17, it states: “Do not wrong one another, but fear your God; for I Hashem am your God.” This verse uses different language than Pasuk 14. It uses Lo instead of Al. Both are Hebrew words, and both share a basic word meaning foundation (indeed, they are both composed of only an aleph and a lamed), but they are subtly different.

 

In the first verse, it is an immediate command – Al Tonu – Thou shalt not. When you are in the middle of your land deal, when you are thinking about how much profit you can make or what corners can be cut, there is a mandate upon you to think of what is being done to the other person.  

 

In the second verse is Pasuk 17: “Do not wrong one another,” Lo Tonu puts that onus on the person to prepare to avoid ways of hurting others. The first verse could lead one to mistakenly think that this injunction against “wronging” is only connected to business, to real estate specifically, but Pasuk 17 comes to make certain it is clear that it is remembered throughout all aspects of life.

This might leave the question of why there are two pasukim when the second covers it all. This goes back to the subtle difference between al and lo. Al is a reminder in the moment, when an “impossible-to-resist” opportunity is sitting in front of you and you know you can make a clear profit, but that profit will be to the excessive cost to your fellow. That is when you must remember that our goal in life is to emulate Hashem, to do good in the world…not to make the most profit.

 

In the plethora of laws that are laid down in the Torah, simple statements like “Do not wrong one another” are easy to pass over. We read it and almost shrug in our conviction that this is not something that we do anyway. But in our day to day lives, amid the constant navigation of family, friends, community, and business, it is easy to focus on ourselves and our needs. We need to prepare ourselves to not be the type of person who would wrong another and also be prepared to stop ourselves when our needs or our wants push forward against those of another to the point that we might forget our fellowship with them.

 

It is significant to note that the next pasuk says: “You must carry out My rules and safeguard My ordinances and perform them. You will then live on the land securely.” The laws set down in the Torah that seem to be about land or business or rule of law are guidelines and shields to the most important laws that underline the Torah world: Think about the other person. Do not put yourself first. Be a mentch.

 

I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Emor: No Nepotism…An Indirect Insight from the Parsha

Sefer Vayikra focuses on the kohanim, the sons of Aaron, but, as with all of Torah, we take the laws and information in there and see how it applies to the larger nation as well. Parshas Emor opens with the oft-discussed restrictions on the family members whose funerals a kohain may attend. For some, it seems shockingly restricted. Attending a funeral is a means of demonstrating love and true respect for the departed, and that that should be denied feels, from certain perspectives, almost cruel.

 

Something that feels cruel, however, does not, in Torah law, supersede that which is necessary. It is necessary for the kohanim to maintain their distance from death because it affects their ability to serve in their role of spiritual channel. (This is another thing that is difficult for those of us in the long diaspora to fully understand.)

 

Kohanim were meant to live their lives differently than the rest of Klal Yisrael - not better, not worse, just differently. Differently, however, can be abused. Differently can cause society to split into haves and have nots, and it seems as if, perhaps, in the first half of Vayikra 22, the Torah is making certain to guard the Kohanim from falling into an abuse of their status.

 

Vayikra 22 begins: “Hashem spoke to Moshe saying, “Instruct Aaron and his sons va’yinazaru from the sanctified donations of Klal Yisrael and not to profane My holy name; these that they dedicate to Me, I am Hashem” (22:1-2). Va’yinazru is an interesting word that is interpreted in one place as ‘to be scrupulous” and in another as “they must abstain” and in the Rav Hirsh translation (which is, of course, a translation of a translation) as “keep themselves apart from.”

 

The Kohanim received the offerings of Klal Yisrael, and it is very clear from other halachot that once an item is sanctified for donation, it holds a unique status. Some of that which is donated to the Mishkan/Beis Hamikdash is burnt up in sacrifice and some is given to the Kohanim to consume. From an outside perspective, this may seem to offer the Kohanim a rather substantial boon. After all, at the most basic level of all trade is the need to gather food, and here the Kohanim have food delivered to them.

 

Vayikra 22 protects the Kohanim from abusing their largesse. First, the parsha makes clear that a kohain in a state of impurity may not eat from the consecrated food. Although it did not take long for a kohein to purify himself, it is still a reminder that he is at this table purely because of his unique role. More significantly, the Torah delineates that the sacred donations may not be eaten by a layman, by a non-kohein who is residing with the kohein, or by a hired worker of the kohein. A slave owned by the Kohein may eat.

 

These laws emphasis that the right to consume the consecrated food should not be taken lightly. One might also see in this the idea that the access a Kohein has to the consecrated food, which was of the highest quality meats, could not be used for outside influence. A Kohein could not invite a neighbor from whom he wanted a favor, a potential business partner, or even his future son-in-law if he wasn’t a Kohein, to partake in this food. This food, Hashem is stating is for you and yours alone.

 

But what of the daughters. The Torah clearly states that if a Bas-Kohein marries a layman, she may no longer eat of the sacred gifts. The only way she would return to her family’s consecrated feast would be as a childless widow or divorcee. And now, once again, it could be argued that this feels cruel.

 

According to the Torah, when a woman marries, she becomes part of her husband’s tribe. The wife of a kohain, whether born into a family of kohanim or not, may eat of the consecrated food, so too the daughter of a kohain who becomes part of another tribe may not. There is equivalency. However, there is in this also a level of protection from lower scruples. For most of history, marriages were arranged based on a perspective of benefits to each party. By stating outright that a bas-Kohein becomes of the other tribe, it nullifies the greed of seeking out to become a kohain’s son-in-law.

 

Being a kohain comes with privileges, but it also comes with a vast responsibility. It was never meant to be taken lightly, and it was certainly not meant to create fiscal class. The rules of who could eat from the table of the Kohanim were a protection of the integrity, and from these rules we can be reminded of the need in our own lives to be scrupulous in our action and to hold firm boundaries even with those who are close to us.

 

Parshas Acharei Mos – Kedoshim: Embrace Life

Dedicated to a refuah sheima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta and Sharon bas Shoshana.

This week’s parsha is Parshas Acharei Mos Kedushim. It is well known that this double parsha has an incredible number of mitvos in it. Many of these mitzvos make perfect sense to us, such as revering our parents and not swearing falsely. Others need a little more explanation. Like most things in the Torah, however, taking a deeper look at these mitzvos, reading the parsha from a different angle – so to speak, provides a new perspective on the world.

 

One law that does not appear to need explanation is “Anyone among the Israelites, or among the strangers residing in Israel, who gives any offspring to Molech, shall be put to death; the people of the land shall pelt the person with stones…” (Vayikra 20:2). Molech was the deity figure of a cultish religion in the region of Israel. The followers of Molech practiced child sacrifice; they sent their children into the flames.

 

It is fair to say that it is inconceivable to us today that someone would sacrifice a child, that people would join a cult that specifically required one to burn a child to death. Children are the future.

 

Actually, Jewish tradition is intriguingly bi-lateral: On the one hand, we believe that our elders and those who came before us are closer to Torah and are to be given absolute respect. As it says, also in this week’s parsha: “You shall rise before the aged and show deference to the old; you shall fear your God: I am Hashem” (Leviticus 19:32).

 

On the other hand…Well, don’t get in the way of a Jewish mother… so many of our halachos are focused on teaching our children and preparing them for the future. Every child is a bracha, a gift from Hashem, so how is it possible that anyone would be tempted to join a cult that glorifies killing children?

 

The answer is zealotry. Misdirected zealotry turns people into monsters. The Torah has made clear that Hashem wants people to celebrate life, not death. And we see this distinction even in modern times. Think of the famous Golda Meir quote: “We will only have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.” Far too many young people have died in the last year and a half conflict, and we – as a nation – grieve every death, even as our enemies embrace it.

 

Zealotry leads one to embrace a death cult; perhaps such drive stems from an insatiable desire to prove one’s fervor, to demonstrate one’s righteousness. Perhaps it is a drive that comes from wanting to experience a tangible sacrifice, something one can always hold on to and announce how loyal one is, what one was willing to sacrifice. Yet, as we learned in the recent parshios and as is vaguely referenced in the title Acharei Mos, Hashem does not want uncalled for offerings.

 

What happens when one “wakes up” from zealotry, when one calms and looks to move forward in life. If one acted like a zealot but followed one’s own council, then the next step might be regret. If one acted like a zealot and offered one’s child to the powerless false god of Molech, then one might feel anguished over the possibility destroyed.

 

And now, if you think about it, it makes sense that the 4 pasukim in Vayikra 20 that are stressing the prohibilion against Molech are followed immediately by, “And if any person turns to ghosts and familiar spirits and goes astray after them, I will set My face against that person, whom I will cut off from among the people” (20:6). We often find connections between side-by-side passukim, so how does turning to ghosts and familiars connect to Molech? Perhaps this pasuk is alluding to causing death and regretting it. Perhaps these two verses are set against each other because when the mania of zealotry comes down, one may be so bereft as to seek out the dead.

 

Interestingly, Vayikra 20:6 is not the only place in the parsha where ghosts are mentioned. Just before the Torah enjoins us to rise before the aged, as quoted before, there is a verse that is oddly similar to Vayikra 20:6. Vayikra 19:31 reads: “Do not turn to ghosts and do not inquire of familiar spirits, to be defiled by them: I Hashem am your God.”

 

The two passukim are remarkably similar. The earlier verse, however, commands one not to consult ghosts or familiars, while the later verse fiercely describes the consequences of doing so. The warning, verse 19:31, precedes the injunction to honor the aged. Together, these two verse could be understood with the message of “Stop looking to those who have passed, to the generations no longer accessible, and see the treasure you have before you in the men and women of age and wisdom.” The verse of consequence, when paired with the warnings against Molech that precede it, is, perhaps, a cautioning from Hashem that their actions are not reversible. Sacrifice is sacrifice.

 

When you put these two topic pairings together, you come up with one definitive fact (other than ghosts are a no-no). Judaism is about life and living. We value life; we value the potential of life in all children, and we value the experience of life in those who have lived longest. The parsha of Kedoshim is a parsha dedicated to being holy - and the way to be holy is to truly live.

Parshas Tazria/Metzorah: Not a Random Interruption

Parshas Tazria/Metzorah: Not a Random Interruption

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Last week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, is weighed down by the distressing details of the death of Aaron’s two sons. While these deaths are dealt with completely in that parsha, it is interesting to note that the parsha we read next week is “Acharei Mot, After the Deaths.” It is not the fact that Nadav and Avihu’s deaths were significant enough to mark a time connection that is particularly interesting, but rather it is the fact that Shemini and Acharei Mot are separated by two parshios (that are generally read as one). Perhaps, there is something to be learned from these two parshios breaking the narrative of the deaths and the divine instruction that follows thereafter.

 

The first of these parshios is Tazria, and the primary subject matter of Tazria is the diagnosis and “treatment” of tzaraas. In reading the biblical description of the disease, it seems almost strange that this was consistently translated simply as leprosy since there are so many permutations of the ailment. More importantly, tzaraas is not a medical condition; it is a unique spiritual malady with an underlying pathogen that is actually a disease of the tongue - lashon harah (Though, to be fair and honest, there are other aveiros that are connected to tzaraas as well). The treatment for tzaraas is isolation and repentance, because this is how one begins to repair - to whatever extent it is repairable - the discord sown by lashon harah.

 

Parshas Metzora, the second parsha, continues the topic of the resolution of tzaaras and also discusses the transference of the marks of tzaraas from a person to an inanimate object and how to deal with it.  One of the correlations of tzaraas and lashon hara is the factor of pride, of ego. Lashon Harah most often stems from our need to feel more significant than someone else, or, said more succinctly, to put others down. 

 

So now back to the original question. Why does the narrative of the inauguration of the Mishkan, the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, and the aftermath commandments of Hashem have tzaraas interrupting it? Perhaps it has to do with Hashem knowing how humanity works. Here in the Torah is a story that is ripe for the picking for lashon harah. These men were struck down in front of the entire congregation. Everyone witnessed their ‘sinning.’ Everyone witnessed their consequence. Public information, right?

 

Wrong. Discussing what happened to Nadav and Avihu is important because we are meant to use every part of Torah to grow, spiritually. Speculating on salacious details because they are interesting or they are relatable, however, is no longer l’toeles. Let’s be honest with ourselves, there are a wide range of Torah based suggestion to what Nadav and Avihu did that day… and there is a reason that the most widely remembered is that they were drunk.

 

Tazria-Metzora is followed by Parshas Acharei Mot, which begins: “Gd spoke to Moshe after the death of Aaron’s two sons, when, having drawn near to Gd, they died. Gd said to Moshe: ‘Speak to your brother Aaron, and tell him that he must not come whenever he wishes into the Sanctuary beyond the partition Curtain…’”

 

After the completion of the inauguration, Hashem provides Aaron with instructions on proper etiquette in the Mishkan. The Torah demonstrates learning from what happened without hashing it out to pieces.

 

If you think about it, the placement of Tazria-Metzora – parshios in which the dangers of lashon hara is a constant theme - in the middle of the story of Nadav and Avihu is brilliant. There are few other such places in the Torah where there is wrong-doing and consequence, and yet, respect for the righteousness of those who received the consequence all at once. The sages have made many postulations as to what Aaron’s sons were punished for, and those discussions were l’toeles, to provide guidance for Bnei Yisrael. But how easy is it to descend into that which is not l’toeles when speaking about them possibly being drunk, or etc? But how easy is it to descend into that which is not l’toeles when speaking about anyone?

 

This sequence of parshios certainly reminds us of the complexities of life. What one sees on the outside is not necessarily what is truly involved. A person covered 100% from head to toe with a skin affliction, who would appear to be the loudest billboard for his own guilt of something, is not a metzorah. Life is not always how it looks, so don’t speculate on the lives of others.

 

Life is a constant path through other people’s actions. We can choose to watch them and judged them and make assumptions about them, or we can choose to accept that Hashem is the king and the ultimate judge. 

Parshas Shemini: Death with Meaning

This week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, contains one of the most unsettling narratives in the Torah: The death of Aaron’s sons. The parsha describes the activities of the inauguration of the Mishkan on the eighth day after its completion. In the middle of the long inauguration service, Aaron’s sons, “Nadav and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Hashem foreign fire, which had not been enjoined upon them.” (Vayikara 10:1). Their motivation is examined and discussed by the sages and throughout the commentaries of all ages. There are those who condemn them for levity or intoxication, and there are those who focus on their misplaced inspiration. Whatever the reason for their bringing an offering that had not been required, the result was the same: “And fire came forth from Hashem and consumed them; thus they died before Hashem”(10:2).

It is obvious why this story is upsetting. Aaron’s sons died - publicly, dramatically, and in the middle of the most auspicious ceremony Klal Yisrael had endeavored upon. Even more discomforting for many people is the fact that Aaron and his two remaining sons could not stop the inauguration and absorb their shock. They had to go forward and complete the inauguration before reacting to the loss of their immediate family members, which is odd in itself because in Jewish tradition the death of an immediate relative puts one in a state of limbo until the burial of the body as soon as possible. 

Jewish tradition has one of the most comprehensive and compassionate rituals of mourning. From the period of aninus, when a person is not required in mitzvos until the burial of the dead and official start of mourning, through the staggered stages of shiva, shloshim and the annual yahrtzeit, the mourning is guided. While these practices seem to be primarily for the emotional benefit of the immediate family, they are understood to benefit the neshama as well. 

Surely, Nadav and Abihu had not erred to such a level that their deaths should be ignored. Surely, their father and brothers felt the pain of loss that is at the heart of the state of aninus. 

Beyond the fact that Aaron, Elazar, and Itamar were in the middle of invoking kedusha into Mishkan, there was something unique about Nadav and Abihu’s passing. Let us look again at the final phrase of 10:2 - “vayamootu lphnei Hashem - and they died before Hashem”(10:2).

Hashem sent a fire that consumed them, which is a pretty definite statement of their being killed. Why does it need to state that they “died before Hashem,” which is not common phraseology at all?

This question is mulled over by many commentators, as is what it meant exactly that they were consumed. For instance, Chizkuni notes:

וימותו לפני ה, “They died in the presence of the Lord. [This is an unusual expression. Are we not all, at any given moment, “in the Presence” of the Lord?] Rabbi Eliezer says this expression teaches that they did not die until having left the sacred precincts and being in the antechamber where Levites were permitted. We have proof of this from verse 4 where the cousins of these brothers, by the names of Mishael and Eltzafan were charge with removing their bodies from there for burial. But why did the Torah say that they died before the Lord (i.e. inside the Tabernacle)? Perhaps they did die there but later an angel pushed the bodies outside to where the Levites were permitted. Rabbi Akiva on the other hand said that they did die inside the Tabernacle. Since they were still wearing their garments which had not been burned by the heavenly fire, their cousins hooked their spears into the outer garments and dragged them until they were outside the sacred parts of the Tabernacle.

 

This is a very practical exploration of the language, but there is a spiritual side as well.  Nadav and Abihu were killed because they acted of their own accord. They brought incense when it wasn’t specifically called for during a very detailed inauguration. Their intention was to honor Hashem, to celebrate Hashem. There was no intention of disrespect or mockery or even vanity. They truly wished to draw closer to Hashem, as is understood by the majority of the commentaries. 

During the inauguration of the mishkan, it was incredibly important, however, that the nation not be shown a hefker observance, an anarchy of emotional reaction of set structure. The Mishkan, the place of ultimate holiness and service to Hashem, had to be respected completely, and on this first day of usage, the point needed to be driven home that their “inspiration” did not negate rules and order. 

On the other hand, their death was, perhaps, an embrace of Hashem. As Rabbeinu Bahya notes ”…The kind of death described here by the words ‘in the presence of the Lord’ means that their body and soul underwent a ‘surgical’ separation, the fire entering their bodies through their nostrils separating soul from body. We must be careful not to understand the verse as saying that their souls were burned, i.e. that they lost their claim to the hereafter. If that were so the words, “by those very close to Me I become sanctified,” which Moses told Aaron in G’d’s name, would not make any sense. Why should the souls of people G’d describes as close to Him be destroyed, burned?”

As humans, as survivors, as the ones who are left behind after a death, we have a hard time seeing the positive for the neshama. We are focussed on what we have lost. Protecting life is the ultimate goal - the primary instinct is, afterall, the survival instinct - because only in life can our neshama grow and flourish. The more our neshama can grow here in Olam Hazeh, the more it will be able to receive the Divine presence in Olam HaBah, and so we focus on the potential of life without, usually, remembering that death also frees the neshama from its battle, or better competition, with the goof, with one’s physical needs and desires. 

When reading parashas Shemini, our immediate reaction is based on our mindset of death as a complete negative. Perhaps, however, from the words that tell us that Nadav and Abihu died before Hashem we are reminded that death is the doorway to a higher plane of existence (when we are ready, ad mesh v’esrim for each of you who reads this!)

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas.

 

Pesach End Days: Understated with Purpose

Why is this night different from all other nights? That famous question may be special to the Seder, but it is also extremely appropriate for tonight. The answer is that tonight (and tomorrow night as a mirror of living in chutz la’aretz) is the only time on the Jewish calendar that we bentch licht with the bracha of “l’hadlik neir shall Yom Tov” (or Shabbas v’Yom Tov) and do NOT make a shehehcheyanu. It is the only true “second days of chag” since that is simply the misnomer people use for Shemini Atzeret in order to make planning easier. 

People talk about Shavuos having few distinguishing marks compared to the other holidays, but at least it has a Shehecheyanu. The last days of Pesach is/are the most understated yom tov we have; all that is unique about it are the things that we don’t say – such as the shehcheyanu and the extra perakim in Hallel. 

On the last days of Pesach, we read about the crossing of the Yam Suf, for this was when it occurred. One would think that an event as prominent in Jewish history as the crossing of the Yam Suf would merit a unique holiday; and given how close it is to Pesach, it would have made sense for such a holiday to be structured like Shemini Atzeret – a joined but unique holiday. So why isn’t it?

Well…

Of course, I can’t answer that question. But I can make some of my own reflections. 

One of the most critical concepts in Judaism is the fact that every person has bechira, free will. Every person has the ability to choose right or wrong. No one is forced to follow the Torah; the world is built on concepts of reward and punishment and consequences for choices and actions. With that in mind, think about the other Shlosh Regalim. 

--On Sukkos we move out of our homes and into temporary dwellings, making an active choice to celebrate trusting Hashem.  Shemini Atzeres is a response to Hashem asking Bnei Yisrael to spend one more day with Him.  We choose to meet His request.

--Pesach commemorates Yetzias Mitzrayim, and it is a well-understood idea that 4/5 of the Bnei Yisrael remained – some say because they did not believe in the possibility of redemption or that they were those too far drawn to Egyptian society, wishing to be like the Mitzrim. These are both choices. Those redeemed were those who chose to accept Moshe as the redeemer. 

--Shavuos is the holiday we say celebrates Hashem giving Bnei Yisrael the Torah, but, in truth, it is the holiday of Bnei Yisrael receiving the Torah. It is not, as one might think, the same thing. Bnei Yisrael said Naaseh v’Nishmah; they chose to accept their role as Gd’s chosen nation. 

Choice – Choice – Choice. The Shlosh Regalim, the primary Yom Tovim, all celebrate choosing. 

The crossing of the Yam Suf is one of the most profound moments in the formation of Am Yisrael, indeed of the world. It was not, however, a moment of choice. Bnei Yisrael were surrounded on four sides, three by the enemy and the fourth by the sea.  

Most of us have had moments where we wished Hashem would give us a sign, a personal sign. We want miracles. Indeed, when we talk about the Yam Suf, many of us wonder why we can’t have a neis of our own. The answer, very simply, is bechira. If Hashem showed us open miracles, then we could not choose to put our own will over Hashem’s.

The Shlosh Regalim do not commemorate miracles. They commemorate the choices that are the foundation of Bnei Yisrael’s relationship with Hashem. Perhaps that is why, in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, we would leave our homes and travel to Jerusalem – an action, a choice to act (and why we have Pesach Sheni when those who could not come but wanted to could, make up their absence). Miracles happen all around us, constantly. Most of them are understated, as they should be. Most of them we don’t notice, and so we are able to live our lives making choices. The final days of Pesach are understated because  Kriyas Yam Suf could only have happened for those who made the choice to follow Moshe and be redeemed. 

But the crossing of the sea itself was not a choice, just a miracle.

I wish you all a wonderful Shabbas, a wonderful Yom Tov. May we continue to make choices that bring us closer to Hakadosh Baruch Hu

A Truly Personal Parsha Prose Prior to Pesach I

  don’t know how many of you are like me, but I felt like sharing some personal thoughts and reflections now, as I sooth my aching feet after a full day of the domestic avodah necessary to prepare for Pesach. As those who know me well will attest, neither housework nor the need to be meticulous suits me very well. The emotional energy of it is almost as draining as the physical action involved. The worry of having missed something, of having shrugged off something important, or of having just plain forgotten an entire set of drawers is always present with me during the days leading up to Pesach. (Don’t be alarmed, I haven’t worked myself into enough of a tizzy to be cleaning any of my light fixtures!)

 

All this physical Pesach prep usually leaves me with a lack of time to do the spiritual preparations, to focus on why this ritual-filled meal is so important to me, to my kids, and to the entire Klal Yisrael. Indeed, I do try to direct my attention in that direction, and every year in my head I dream up different ways to make my family’s seder more engaging and interactive.

 

Growing up, my family’s seder consisted of going around the table and each taking a turn reading a paragraph. As I became more observant, commentaries were added into the round-robin reading. At a larger table with kids of various ages, however, too many extra added commentaries can deflate the excitement, and trying to find creative ways to spice up the seder is often met with dead eyed stares or subtle sighs.

 

This week, I listened to a wonderful shiur by Rabbi Joey Haber during which he gave ten ideas for enhancing the seder. During one of those suggestions, he mentioned how his own family is more into debate than discussion. It made me contemplate how I yearn to create a vibrant, exciting seder full of laughter and memorable moments during which my children are inspired and deepen their connection to Hashem. When I was younger, I made game sheets, question flash cards, and even, one year, drawings for those perfect illustrative moments. But not only were they, shall we say, unappreciated… by the other members of the seder, they were difficult for me to integrate as the reading went on.

 

To be honest, even haggadot full of what must be cool commentary, purchased fresh each year, can be difficult to manage during a seder as there is little time to read ahead and make sure the commentary will be well met by the rest of the table.

 

Listening to Rabbi Haber, I thought about my own family’s preferences and realized, not for the first time, that, well, we have no one style. Hashem blessed me with 5 very individual children, and so my seder - or my anything - will always be a balancing act between creativity and straight-forward text, between drashot and singing. Everyone has their own needs, and the seder must address them all.

 

It's a beautiful reminder about one of the most integral aspects of the Pesach offering. The eating of the Pesach offering was a communal event, and it still is. The seder brings people together to talk about Yetzias Mitzrayim. The significance of Yetzias Mitzrayim, beyond Hashem demonstrating His greatness, was that it was the forging of a nation.

 

When Hashem brought us out of Mitzrayim, we went from a large familial group to a nation, to a people with structure and culture and expectations of each other.  Most importantly, that nation was woven together by faith, by a recognition of Hashem in our lives. Fairly stated, emuna is a very difficult thing to maintain, especially in trying times. Also, fairly stated again, emuna is not one size fits all. Different people are inspired by completely different facets of Torah, but the core remains the same.

 

Mitzrayim was a place but, chazal notes, it is also a concept. Mitzrayim refers to a narrow or constricted place, and as we note in the Haggadah when we speak of Every Generation facing those who wish to destroy us, it is a concept that repeats itself – as we see all too well today. But we hold on and our faith, our belief that Hashem fulfills His promise of redemption, remains.

 

At the seder, we will call out that who ever needs should come. It doesn’t matter who you are; it matters that you want to come and celebrate our redemption for Mitzrayim. Who ever needs isn’t just about having food for the seder. Needing food is just one form of wanting. Some people need safety. Some people need family. Some people just need other people because life circumstances has left them alone, and the korban Pesach could not be offered and eaten alone (I mean, I guess if one was really, really, really a good eater they could eat a whole kid-goat alone!). Who ever is in need, come to our seder. It doesn’t matter if you want to say drashot, hold debates, sing gustily, or just sit and absorb – come and join, and you will add to our seder.

 

As the final preparation day dawns, I hope to have time to peak into my newest haggada (Rav Hirsh – so excited), to write down thoughts to share, perhaps even to prep my questions. It probably won’t happen, and it likely won’t be well-met by my children eager to bring their own flavor into the seder. And that is totally okay. That too is part of the annual Seder preparation.

 

Have a beautiful Shabbas and a Chag Kasher v’Sameach. Don’t forget to take time this Yom Tov to appreciate the diversity in your own family and the diversity within our nation. Take time to thank Hashem for being here after “In every generation.” (This week’s parsha, Tzav, does talk about the Thanksgiving offering given by one whose life was spared… you make the connection). And don’t forget to take the opportunity to express yourself at your seder.

purim list

 

In case you are curious, the link has brought you to a post on my Parsha Blog. Feel free to take a read :)

Sarah Rochel

Parsha Titzaveh/Zachor: The Purpose of Remember

It is almost Purim. It is almost time for our annual celebration of the miraculous survival of the Jewish people as the entire “known” world turned against us. That “almost” has reoccurred in history far too often, and many of us feel as if we are in the middle of the beginning of yet another one.  That “almost” began, as we remind ourselves every year on the Shabbas before Purim, when the nation of Amalek stealthily moved in behind the weary yet exultant Bnei Yisrael.

 

This week, as we read parshas Zachor after the usual Torah reading, it is important to contemplate this important word: Zachor. Why do we make an extra reading of the section of the Torah describing these events? Yes, obviously, because Hashem literally instructed us to remember what Amalek did to us, but what are we actually supposed to focus on? We must remember the choice Amalek made to fly in the face of Hashem’s obvious involvement. However, we also have to remember that even though we were easily overpowered in the physical sphere, Hashem protected us through Moshe, through the strength of the spiritual over the random strength of the physical.

 

The importance of remembering Amalek is that we must remember all of it:  Their evil deeds, Hashem’s protection, our dependence on Hashem, and, perhaps, most significantly, the fact that we as a nation are absolutely not meant to see the world as random, as lacking constant Divine intervention. We, as Jews, are meant to recognize and thank Hashem for the mercy He put in the world. Indeed, Remembering Amalek is one of six specific commandments to remember, and in all of them we can demonstrate the significant divine rachamim as well the din.

 

In this week’s actual parsha, however, Hashem commands Moshe to incorporate symbols of remembrance FOR Hashem.  This week is Parshas Tetzaveh, the parsha in which the Torah describes – in extreme detail – the clothing of the kohan gadol, and therein it is written:

 

Attach the two stones to the shoulder-pieces of the ephod, as stones for remembrance of the Israelite people, whose names Aaron shall carry upon his two shoulder-pieces for remembrance before Hashem…. Aaron shall carry the names of the sons of Israel on the breastpiece of decision over his heart, when he enters the sanctuary, for remembrance before Hashem at all times (Shemos 28:12 and 29).

 

It is interesting to note that the two places where Aaron is commanded to place the names of the Shevatim are on the shoulder-pieces and over his heart. We think of the heart in association with affection, and it was through the breastplate over the kohain gadol’s heart that Bnei Yisrael was able to receive communication from Hashem. But why place the names of the Shevatim on the shoulder pieces, on a spot often associated with bearing a burden?

 

Bnei Yisrael accepted upon themselves the Yoke of Torah out of true reverence and love for Hashem. The Torah is wonderful, but the term Yoke of Torah exists because it not only controls our lives, but it forces us, in many ways, to work hard in this world – spiritually – just as Yaakov had to fight to get to the level wherein he received the name Yisrael.

 

We are asked to Remember events such as the attack of Amalek so that, looking at the full picture, we recognize Hashem’s true control over the world, so that we remember that Hashem will save us even from the ultimate evil. Hashem asks us to place stones of remembrance in the bigdei kahuna so that when he sees the names of the twelve sons of Israel He will focus on the burden we assumed and the heart with which we strive to connect. The commentator Haamek Davar notes on Shemos 28:12: As a remembrance. In Tehillim (115:12) it is written, “Hashem has remembered us; He will bless.” This teaches us that when God ‘remembers’ the B’nei Yisrael it is in order to bless them.”

 

Hashem doesn’t need symbols to remember Bnei Yisrael, He wants the symbols to be inspiration for us to know that Hashem sees us for who we are, that Hashem remembers the foundation of our nation. And for that He blesses us. But also, in commanding Moshe to create these objects of remembrance, Hashem is, perhaps, indicating to Bnei Yisrael our best forms of advocacy: Remembering who we are, where we came from, and what that means – that we, like our ancestors, are avdei Hashem who work constantly to connect to Hashem.

 

I wish you all a meaningful Shabbas.

Parshas Teruma – Far More Than A Registry

Parshas Teruma can be a difficult parsha to understand. On the one hand, it is from this parsha that we understand giving to Hashem from our hearts, and, on the other hand, it is from this parsha that we receive a very exacting set of instructions for building the Mishkan. It’s almost like, l’havdil, Hashem sent out a housewarming party invitation and included an Amazon wish list (come celebrate and bring me a gift, but these are the gifts that you should buy). 

 It's a silly analogy, of course. Party registries seem… tacky. We see them and we roll our eyes until we start thinking about what to bring and are suddenly grateful that the host told us what they want or need.  Parsha Teruma is no housewarming party; the building of the Mishkan was to allow a Divine Presence to dwell among the nation and therefore required strict delineations. Herein is one of the most beautiful aspects of Jewish tradition – it requires strict adherence to rules and yet cultivates a creativity that is both spiritual and intellectual. 

 It is a wonderful process that cannot be imitated in any human legal system because one of the most subtle yet important aspects of halacha is intention. This is the critical factor in all that is required in Parshas Teruma – Hashem wants the people to have the intention of making the choice for themselves and giving from their heart. Exceptionally specific instructions are necessary for creating this dwelling place, but this is not simply a building. These directions are not about technical blueprints; they are also about creating a space of reverence and a place of beauty - a place for the Shechina to dwell.

 The Mishkan and the Beis Hamikdash are both out of our reach for now. There is no physical space in which the Shechina can dwell so we each try to build our own space within ourselves, a space where we can feel that connection. We do this through living Torah. We do this through not just following detailed rules but by observing them with the intention of giving to Hashem as our ancestors did in the building of the Mishkan. 

 It almost sounds easy to have the right intention. That is deceptive. It isn’t simply about telling ourselves that we are doing mitzvos to serve Hashem, that we are giving tzedakah because all we have comes from Hashem or that our Shabbas rest is focused on emulating Hashem’s rest on the seventh day. It is really, really feeling it. And this takes work. Shemos 25:2 doesn’t use the term want rotze; it uses the term nadav, which is inspired – a richer, deeper, innate desire.

 Today is Rosh Chodesh Adar, which means we turn our thoughts toward Purim. Esther HaMalka went to the palace and married the king because Mordechai told her this was what she needed to do. She took his guidance, and she did it because he was her guardian and he was a gadol. Certainly, she comforted herself that this was Hashem’s will. However, it was – one can infer – not until Mordechai said those fateful words to her -  that Hashem will use a different shaliach, but perhaps this is why she in the palace – that Esther was able to really connect her ratzon to Hashem’s ratzon and thus find courage and then inspiration from within herself. She followed what she was told she needed to do but she attained greatness when she put her whole self into that doing. 

 Truly being able to give “yidvenu leebo” (yes, I know, it doesn’t work grammatically) is an aspiration. It’s toil. It’s hard work, but it is good work. 

 As an extra note. We have heard numerous stories now of released hostages finding their connection to Hashem during their trials and tribulations. They are toldos Esther Hamalka – to coin my own phrase. They are the offshoots of Esther, of finding inspired connection through trauma and challenge.  Hearing about these young women who tried to celebrate the chagim in whatever way possible is inspiring and it is a sharp reminder to those of us living comfortably that the work is upon us to do ourselves, without a cauldron of pain. 

 May we all be blessed to keep working on finding the inspiration from within rather than it being pressed upon us by dire circumstances. May we each enjoy Shabbas inspired and connecting to it as a day of joy to Hashem.

Parshas Mishpatim – Ahava, Yirah, and the Giving of the Luchos

 It is both tempting and daunting to use this Dvar Torah to capture some significant message in this momentously difficult time for the Jewish people. We are a nation in shock, filled with sorrow and rage and, in truth, overwhelmed at the incomprehensible brutality we have witnessed. And the pasuk that most stood out in this week’s parsha was the warning against an ox that has gored before. An ox that gores the first time is returned to its pasture. An ox that has gored before cannot be trusted. Perhaps we need learn from this basic truth… violent nature does not just disappear, does not just shift. Know with whom we are dealing.

 

This week’s parsha is Parshas Mishpatim. It is interesting to note that tradition divides Jewish law into three categories: Chukim, the laws the reason for which are unclear to us like kashrus and shatnes; Edos, the laws commemorating significant moments such as the holidays; and Mishpatim, which are generally understood to be the laws of civilization – laws that any rational society would naturally adhere to… (like don’t kill and don’t kidnap, but there I go again, so I shall begin again.)

 

This week’s parsha is Parashas Mishpatim, and it is interesting to note that one could read its final chapter, Perek 24, in the same manner in which one reads the second chapter of Bereishis. It feels like a repetition, but is, instead, a different perspective. The first description of the creation of the world uses only the name Elokim, which indicates the mida of Din/Justice. The second iteration includes the name Hashem, expressing that the divine attribute of Rachamim/Compassion was added into the creation.

 

Shemos 24 returns to the account of the receiving of the Torah on Har Sinai but with a much more restrained tone. It tells the details of the preparation of Moshe and Aaron and the elders. However, since the Torah never wastes words, one wonders why Perek 24:1-18 is here. Why wasn’t all of this included in Parshas Yisro?  

 

There is an important and common discussion in Jewish texts about Ahavas Hashem (Love of Gd) and Yiras Hashem (Reverence for Gd – often translated as fear). Serving Hashem out of love is the ultimate goal, and it sounds easy. After all, we humans naturally love. We love our parents, our children, our siblings, our friends, our spouses… Of course, we also love hockey (if you’re my son), chocolate, coffee, cake, dogs, etc. Okay it’s a common comment on our overuse of the word love, but that overuse is an excellent description of just why we are taught that to get to true Ahavas Hashem, we must first truly achieve Yiras Hashem. If one really thinks about how tradition discusses love – which is, in many ways, the ultimate giving to someone else without losing oneself – one realizes that it isn’t such a simple emotion, especially when it comes to Hashem.

 

This is not to say that we do not feel Ahavas Hashem, chas v’shalom, but it is a difficult emotion to sustain.

 

Yirah, on the other hand, lends itself to a constant acknowledgement that our actions have consequences. The most common translation of Yiras Hashem is fear of Gd. Fear, however, is connected to the negative, to maintaining mitzvos so that one is not negatively affected. Yirah, as reverence implies. is a deep respect and recognition that Hashem is there as the ultimate Melech whose rule is beyond our comprehension. One can follow rules and respect authority with or without love as an acknowledgement of greater wisdom. Through this wisdom, we hope, of course, to get to Ahavas.

 

There is another interesting aspect of the human concept of love, and that is our natural propensity to wish to demonstrate it in broad, bold gestures (or, for the more introverted, in significantly meaningful moments).

 

And this brings us back to the topic at hand, the giving of the first luchos part one and part two. Har Sinai was an ideal. Bnei Yisrael had true clarity about Hashem, the world, themselves, the importance of Torah…. Everything at Har Sinai was big. It was bold. And perhaps this overwhelming expression of love was why, ultimately, the people sought out another moment of incredible connection with the cheit haegel because they couldn’t maintain that level of Ahavas Hashem but had not yet comprehended the role of Yiras Hashem to get there.

 

The second iteration of the days leading up to the giving of the Torah are about the straight-forward actions of the days of preparation. The text itself is much more restrained, which make it interesting to note that when we celebrate receiving the Torah on Shavuos, we elaborate of the pasukim of Yisro – the mountain blooming, the thunder and lightening, the greatness of the event – and in that context we often reference the term “Naaseh v’Nishma, We will do and we will listen.” This statement, however, is not written in parshas Yisro, but rather here at the end of Parshas Mishpatim. In Parshas Yisro, the people declare “All that Hashem has spoken we will do” (19:8) – absolute devotion, unconditional giving.

 

In Shemos 24, after the parsha lists many practical halachos that, it is understood, were given over to the people before Moshe ascended the mountain, we find the words Naaseh v’Nishma (24:7).  Naaseh vNishma is a statement of Yiras Hashem, of doing and listening and processing Hashem’s will. It isn’t jumping into an unsustainable.

 

Rashi notes that the world was meant to be created with Din alone, but Hashem realized that it was unsustainable, so He added Rachamim to the creation. Similarly, the ideal connection to Hashem is pure Ahava. That, however, may not be attainable for most people, and so we have a different path – a path of reverence in which we experience love and fear and a host of emotions in our understanding the full and complete nature of Hashem.

 

It often seems as if the world is full of contradictions. Din or Rachamim? Ahava or Yirah? The praising of obvious evil… The Torah makes it clear that the world, and our role in the world, will always be complex, and that He will always provide us with a path forward.