Parshas Shemini: Avoiding Emotional Judgements

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TZAV- Growth Must be Personal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Parshas Vaykhel-Pekudei: Gathering a Mishkan Today

 This week we marked the strange anniversary of one year since the World Health Organization declared Covid 19 a pandemic. Many of us are restless to break free of the restrictions, and many of us are wary of not keeping those same restrictions. It has been noted by some how easily we all became so compliant that even the image of crowds gathered make some anxious. It is not, I think, far-fetched to say that for the Jewish community this forced separation has been particularly difficult. We are, after all, a nation that gathers.

This week's parsha begins with gathering: "And Moshe gathered all of the community of Bnei Yisrael and he said to them, 'These are the things that God commanded you to do them'" (Shemos 35:1). He then reiterates the laws of Shabbat, perhaps in what one might call a condensed mode : “Six days shall you do creative labor and on the seventh there will be for you to sanctify Shabbat to Hashem, all who do creative labor shall die. Don't kindle fire in your dwellings on Shabbat” (ibid. 36:2-3).

THESE are the things? It's two verses, two commandments, and then Moshe is telling them other words of God. It seemed a bit odd that the Torah includes such a long introductory phrase, almost a waste of words (chas v’shalom). “These are the things that God commanded you to do them.” Why wouldn’t the Torah just tell us that Moshe gathered all of Israel and said the Lord commanded you to work six days and… Instead we begin with "These are the things."

In the context of parshas Vayakhel-Pekudei, the two lines of the mitzvot of Shabbat are a preface to the far more encompassing process of building the Mishkan. It seems, perhaps, repetitive of Parshas Teruma and Tetzaveh, but what we see is each section begins with Moshe purposefully stating that these were the instructions from Hashem. We can infer that each of these pieces is a continuation of "These are the things."

We do not have a Mishkan today. We can't even really imagine what it was like to partake in the building of such a wonderful thing. If Hashem knew the building of the Mishkan was a one time event, why was it necessary to record the instructions and the carrying out of the instructions in such detail? If the Torah is not just a history book, but an eternal guide, then there must be things that we can learn and ideas that we can apply to our lives today in this description.

For instance, if one looks at the full details of the preparations of the Mishkan, one sees not just the enthusiasm of Bnei Yisrael - from which we can certainly learn about the right attitude toward avodas Hashem - but also an incredible representation of community working together. One might aregue with this statement that an inordinate amount of the work was done by Betzalel and Ohilab. While this is true, it is nevertheless a demonstration of community. Betzalel may have done the work, but his name is not highlighted throughout the description of what he did. In fact, his name is mentioned only 3 times in Vayakhel (and one time in Pekudei). The first time is in Shemos 35:5, Moshe announces that "The Lord has called by name Betzalel ben Uri ben Hur." He is then called by name in 36:1-2: “Betzalel and Ohilab and every wise hearted man whom God has imbued with wisdom and insight to know how to do, shall do all the work of the service of the Holy, according to all that the Lord has commanded. And Moshe called Betzalel and Ohilab and every wise hearted man… to approach the work to do it." Note how even in the 2nd and 3rd use of his name, Betzalel (and Ohilab) are mentioned but included as one of many. He is a man of extraordinary (literally stated God-given) talents, but he does not revel in fame and glory. He puts his skills to used for Hashem as part of the whole.

This year, Parshas Vayakhel-Pekudei is read on the cusp of Rosh Chodesh. We are heading into the month that celebrates freedom, and yet, this year, we are burdened with so many restrictions to our freedoms. Let us remember, however, that what we celebrate at Pesach is far more than the removal of our ancestors from the physical labor of slavery. As many a commentary or Dvar Torah has pointed out, Bnei Yisrael's journey was not actually to freedom as one would think of it today, but really to being ovdei Hashem, servants of the Divine will. As we mark this one year pandemicaversary, as we prepare for Pesach, we must continue to do the underlying work of "These are the things that God commanded you."

Six days shall you work and the seventh is for sanctifying Hashem. The work is the work of building the MIshkan; the work is the work of doing for the spiritual (and physical) well-being of the community. It might be interesting to think that if the work of the mMishkan is a communal creation of a space for the Divine that requires a unified effort, that we could learn here that Hashem desires that 6/7th of our efforts, of our strengths, are to be directed thus, and 1/7th to our personal avodas Hashem encompassed in the observance of Shabbat. When we build together the figurative community full of unity, that is the modern work of the Mishkan and then Hashem can dwell among us.

Just as we long to have all of our beloveds together for the holiday to be free of this pandemic, so should we work for that true communal spirit that is necessary for complete avodas Hashem. Nisan is upon us. Let us gather our spiritual strength and talent and put them forth for the benefit of our klal - whether physically together or distanced - and know that our truest freedom is just over the horizon.

Ki Tisa: How Individuals Make the Community

 The current state of the Western world seems to be a conflict between individual and collective identities. In the near past people were clamoring to be honored for their unique individuality, but this is now being overshadowed by identity-based groups demanding influence on both law and culture. It is a 21st century conundrum. Is one’s identifiable community more important than one’s individuality? Parshas Ki Tisa might offer an interesting philosophical outlook on how one’s unique individuality is actually meant to shape one’s community.

Ki Tisa begins with the pasukim (verses): “And God spoke to Moshe saying: When you take a census of Bnei Yisrael according to their numbers, they shall give each man an atonement for his soul to Hashem when counting them, so that there will not be a plague among them when counting them” (Shemos 30:11-12). Verse 12 is interesting in its variation between plural and singular: “THEY shall give EACH MAN an atonement…”

A census, by its very definition, is a measurement of a group of people. It is a necessary bureaucratic procedure. This makes the pasuk’s reference to a plague seem so out of place. How could counting lead to a plague? While we know that this consequence did, actually, occur – when King David took a census by head and the people were struck with plague as recorded in II Samuel 24, one could also understand the idea of plague in a more figurative way. What does a plague do? As we have noticed all too closely in our 21st century pandemic, “plague” affects a community with more than just death. It forces people to separate, to isolate, as they protect themselves and those closest to them. It Is notable, too, that the translation app on Google also translates nun-gimmel-phey as a stumbling block or a bump. Hashem is warning Bnei Yisrael of the potential negative ramifications of a mindless counting of bodies.

The interesting thing about the phrasing of this command is that while a leader is the one who requires the census and will make use of the count, the halacha mandates that the census is performed by the community – They shall give. This enforces the self-reflective nature of Klal Yisrael – how our community actions impact our individual selves and, perhaps more importantly, vice verse.

Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch has an interesting commentary on the implications of “Pekudei” and the significance of each individual’s mindset:

Pekudei Bnei Yisrael are all those who are thought of as Bnei Yisrael, in whom the idea Bnei Yisrael has a concrete bearer. At the moment in which anybody is counted lpkudei Bnei Yisrael, he learns to value himself as a ben Yisrael, the self-appreciative consciousness is aroused to see this idea of his nation incorporated in himself. Then, at that point, the important teaching is addressed to him:- Not by mere existence, by living for himself, has his nephesh, his personality, value and meaning, not by his just being there is he an integral part of the nation, his mere existence does not even give him the right to be there; only by giving, doing, something, is he to be counted, only by giving, doing, does he gain the right for the continuance of his existence, only by contributing his share in accordance with his duty does he obtain a justifiable position as a creature who has been crowned by God with Life, a justifiable position in the community of his nation. Only by contributing something may he be reckoned in the number of the Children of Israel.

This act of being counted by giving an atonement, by becoming a conscientious piece of the Klal, is important. Bnei Yisrael have generations of experience of being judged as a whole based on the behavior of individuals and being judged as individuals based on a perspective of the whole. Sometimes this is for the good and sometimes it is the path to disaster.

The intertwining of the individual and the klal is an idea encapsulated in the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem and the avoidance of Chilul Hashem (sanctifying God’s name and desecrating God’s name). Bnei Yisrael are representatives of Hashem in this world, and how each ben Yisrael (to borrow Rav Hirsch’s usage) represents the nation is significant. Thus we know that when we go out in public, our behavior is watched and judged according to us as individuals AND as a reflection of Klal Yisrael. If I am in a bad mood and lose my temper at a cashier, the cashier attributes that also the “the Jews.” And, on the other hand, when I go out of my way to return a lost wallet, my identity as a Jew is also noted. Each individual member of Klal Yisrael must remember that how they act is accounted to the whole.

Taking a census of the people by counting heads is prohibited perhaps to teach us that such an impersonal count would imply that their own individual actions don’t matter. Pushing to be part of a group without acting for the group is inclusion without merit of action. People grouped together simply because they share a character trait or live in a similar place are not a combination of unique pieces working to make a whole, they are just a group of people. They lack cohesion. They can and will easily shift and disconnect from one another. When, however, the individuals are actively involved in being a part of a community – of sharing the same values and working toward the same goal – this is the atonement that they give. This is how they are truly counted.

Our nation has been dispersed throughout the world, and the world is currently moving into one of its eras in which one’s peoplehood is seen as more important than the individual people. This is when we most must understand that our individual actions have a significant impact on our nation as a whole. When each of us “gives an atonement” – offers a part of ourselves, whether that means through money (tzedakah), time for learning, and/or holding back one’s natural inclinations toward a bad middah (character trait) – then we protect each other and are best able to help Klal Yisrael fulfill its role in this world.

Parshas Teruma - Woodworking and Weaving

 Parshas Teruma is well-known for Divrei Torah that speak of what it meant when God instructed Moshe to speak to Bnei Yisrael and “let them take for Me a portion from every man whose heart motivates him.” This leads to all sorts of discussions on topics as direct as what the Israelites had to donate (and from where) to more esoteric contemplations on intent and giving a gift to Hashem.

What Bnei Yisrael gave is important. The Torah lists 16 items: gold, silver, copper, turquoise, purple and scarlet wool, linen, goat hair, red-dyed ram skins, tacshish skins, acacia wood, oil for illumination, spices for anointment, the aromatic incense, shohen stones, and other stones. Then Hashem explained what it was for, which was the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle).

To be honest, the descriptions transcribed in Parshas Terumah are not particularly exciting unless you are a civil engineer or an artisan. While last week’s parsha was all laws, those still had a slight feel of narrative – the general style of the Torah up until now. Between cubits in height and cubits in width and repetitive counts of the number of rings and staves…well, Teruma becomes a more difficult parsha in which to focus one’s attention. Yet even as Hashem gave these directions, or as other generations have reviewed them, there are those who grow excited at these details… Ask for staves of acacia wood and Reuven the woodcutter is envisioning exactly how to shape the wood. Request rings of gold and Shimon the goldsmith is ready to take to his forge. Tell about the turquoise, purple, and scarlet threads, and Yehuda the dyer knows just what ingredients are needed. Sarah the weaver can envision exactly how she needs to work her loom. Each of the men and women who stepped forward to help construct the Mishkan was continuing the standard of giving set by the beginning words of the parsha, that each person should give as his heart motivated him. They are giving from their hearts and their souls when they give from their creative energy.

In looking at the connection of Parshas Teruma’s opening request of donations given in free-will and the continuing three perakim (chapters) that highlight the need for artisan and artists, we are given an opportunity to assess our personal and communal priorities. Have we as a community looked askance at creative career paths, thinking of them as “bidieved” – well he has no other choice? Have we given our children opportunities to explore a desire for artistic expression? Do our communities facilitate these options, or do we guide our children into singular shoots?

Once upon a time, in the not nearly as distant a past as one might think, people specialized in creating. Each object that a household used needed someone to create it, whereas today we have our formulas and our factories. Each town or region needed their own special artisans and so we valued the craftsmen among us. Learning to do was given weight along side learning from books.

When the Torah describes the making of the ten curtains of the Mishkan as “twisted linen with turquoise, purple and scarlet wool – with a woven design of cherubim shall you make them,” this is a moment to stop and think with awe of the beauty of that curtain, the skill of that weaver, and the generosity of Hashem for giving that weaver the ability to see and transmit a piece of the Divine will.

It isn’t easy to see the benefit of encouraging what can seem to a structured world of mass manufacture that which seems to be frivolity. For those to whom Hashem has given the gift of creative soul – those who are able to look at a tree and see a stave, those who are able to match perfect colors – encouraging and channeling that need to create is critical to their avodas Hashem. Let us prepare now for a generation that can step forward and bring Hashem’s words to life.

Parshas Mishpatim: You, Yous, and the Foundation of Being Better People

 I have often wondered why the English language, unlike so many other languages, no longer has a proper distinction between second person singular and second person plural. No matter how many people an individual is speaking to, one or many, they are all addressed as you. Because of this lacking, when one reads the parsha in English, one might easily miss subtle nuances in the text, such as that which happens in Shemos 22:22-23: “If you (s) do mistreat them [the stranger, the orphan, or the widow, all mentioned in 22:20-21], I will heed their outcry as soon as they cry out to Me, and My anger shall blaze forth and I will put you (pl) to the sword, and your (pl) wives will become widows and your (pl) children orphans.”

There is something fascinating about finding these grammatical flags within the verses of the Torah. In a text in which we believe that every word has meaning and significance, even the basic grammatical participals, the transition from addressing you to you all has a purpose.

The Torah’s injunctions not to mistreat the stranger, the orphan, or the widow is an idea that gets repeated over and over throughout the Torah. These three specifications lay the foundation for building a community that cares. These three specifications are the people most easily lost, taken advantage of, or disdained in the shuffle of society and day-to-day living because most often they have no one specifically looking out for them.

One would not think that it would be necessary to codify kindness to people, especially to those in more needy situations. But God made man and God made Torah and God most certainly understands that there is, in many of us, a very natural tendency to make hierarchies. We take care of those closest to ourselves first, and then those with whom we are familiar, and then those who are other. It takes more conscious effort to be open to people in other circumstances or to empathize beyond one’s personal interest with those in exceptional circumstances.

One interesting aspect of parshas Mishpatim is that in the basic interpersonal laws that it lays down, there is a recognition of some of humankind’s natural, negative character traits. Take hatred for example. While sinas chinam, baseless hatred, is forbidden, the Torah accepts the fact that two people might become enemies. Thus it is written in the Torah: “When you see the donkey of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless raise it with him” (23:4).

Hatred, selfishness, perversions, and violence are all possibilities of inclinations within the human condition, and parshas Mishpatim touches on many of what we might think of as uncrossable lines. It also tells us, as one can interpret from verse 23:4 (helping your enemy), that Hashem knows and expects us to be able to overcome those inclinations. You don’t like someone because they did something to you, because they said something, or because they have an opposing philosophy to life, the Torah does not say that one has to like them. But it does tell us that you have to stop and help them raise up the animal, you do have to still see that they are a person.

In Shemos 22:22-23, Hashem mandates the protection of the stranger, the widow and the orphan, because while selfishness may natural, it is not a good trait. But it is also a character trait that can be mitigated by the society around us. If those around us are generous, we have a tendency to give more of ourselves. If those around us are emotionally hard or lacking in compassion, we tend to be the same. And this, perhaps, is a lesson that can be learned from Verse 22:22-23’s shift from second person singular to second person plural. One person may be performing the act of mistreating the widow or taking advantage of an orphan or wronging a stranger, but when this happens there is an onus upon the whole community for not having come together to protect them, to look out for them. Kindness, as it is often said, begins at home; but home is also where we learn the traits of kindness that we must take into the greater world.

To Be a Goy Kadosh (extra post for Yisro)

One of the most powerful and beautiful injunctions in the Torah is the commandment to the Jewish people to be a goy kadosh, a holy nation. With such weight put to this singular role, it is surprising to look, analyze, and assess the transformation of the word goy from a general term for a nation to a word that our children are indoctrinated to immediately associate with others, with outsiders, with people who are lesser.

This Dvar Torah was actually started months ago, when a child, not my own, made a derogatory comment about goyim and was unable to accept or process the fact that the term goy, in its pure, original meaning, could be used for the Jewish people just as much as for the rest of the world. I apologize now for those who will find my language demanding or hashkafically challenged. This is truly me sharing from my heart.

In teaching our children to disparage, to hate or disdain, "the goyim," we are doing terrible damage to ourselves. Hashem literally instructs us, just before giving us His greatest gift, to “be a mamlechas cohanim and a goy kadosh.” Hashem is appointing us an incredible opportunity! We are a nation chosen to be able to connect with the divine and to represent Hashem’s greatness in the world. Why does this need to be done at the expense of others?

When we build ourselves up only by putting others down, we are actually making ourselves so much smaller. Of course, we have a necessity to keep ourselves separate, to secure the neshamos of our children and the precious gift of the Torah that is our inheritance. Without question we do not want our children emulating the outside world - but when you tell them how lowly the goyim are and then they meet fine, upstanding people, what does this say about our own perception of others who are also Betzelem Elokim... and then we wonder why children won't behave properly for their non-Jewish teachers! Certainly, we have been forewarned that the other nations will persecute us, but they are persecuting us at God’s will for our aveiros, so their persecution - when it is real and not simply perceived - is not an excuse to hold our heads higher and speak ill of them, but rather it is a means for us to check our egos and realign ourselves with our mission.

When we look at the world, we have to stop seeing and thinking in terms of us versus them, that's not the world Hashem wanted us to build. He gave us the Torah so that we have the power of creating a society with us leading them, showing them the way to being ovdei Hashem.

When we read Parshas Yisro we look at the amazing words of the Aserest Hadibros, and we see the foundation steps to building a moral civilization. That’s not a civilization just for us, but Hashem’s goal for all of the world. Let us strive to live up to our roles in the greater world by focusing on our beauty, our grandeur, and our responsibility, and the rest of the world as the creations of Hashem whom we need to inspire.