Love Can Make Us Do Crazy Things

As part of the punishment for the sin of the spies, that generation of Bnai Yisrael was barred entry into the Promised Land. As Hashem told Moshe (14:31) only the next generation would enter Eretz Yisrael “they shall know the land that you have despised.” This notion that the Jews of that time despised the Land is a sentiment repeated in Tehllim 106: וַיִּֽמְאֲסוּ בְּאֶ֣רֶץ חֶמְדָּ֑ה “they despised the desirable Land.” Rav Avraham Pam asked: How do we know that the Jews despised the Land of Israel? Perhaps they really loved the land but had no faith in Hashem, or maybe they had no faith in their ability to conquer the land. Maybe they were just afraid or unsure. Why does the Torah accuse them of despising the land? Rav Pam answered this question by citing a Halacha regarding gifting objects to a fetus that has not yet been born. The Talmud in Baba Batra states that even though we normally say Zachin L’Adam Shelo B’fanav that one can act on behalf of another entity for their benefit, even without their knowledge, that is not the case regarding a yet-unborn fetus. We say that the gift-giver is not sincere in his intentions to give, since the child is not yet born and there are plausible scenarios in which the child will not be born nor be able to receive the gift. A transaction under dubious circumstances is not binding. However the Talmud goes on to state that if a father gives a gift to his yet unborn biological child, such a gift is binding- even before birth. This is because a father has real love for his child even in utero. The possibility of something, God forbid, going wrong does not enter into his mind nor his calculations at all when it comes to his own child. Rav Pam goes on to explain that if the Jews had a deep relationship with the land then that love would have blinded them to the possibility of something bad happening. The fact that they were fixated on the possible problems is an indication that they were lacking in their love for Eretz Yisrael. King Solomon said (Mishlei 10:12) that love makes us do crazy things. Love also allows us to focus on the positive and gloss over the challenges and the problems, even when the problems are objectively obvious. There is certainly such a thing as constructive criticism. If we love someone or something then there may be ways and times when we must point out these shortcomings or these problems. But if we find ourselves focusing on problems then we must ask ourselves where is the love that would allow us to approach the problems from a different perspective? Israel is in the midst of a war with Iran. This war is of supreme, even existential, significance. Talking to people in Israel I hear their pride more than their fear. Rav Pam’s lesson about love struck me when watching a video clip of one of the first flights to land in Israel with Israelis who were desperate to return home. First it is important to take a moment to realize that in the midst of a war, thousands of people are desperate to return home and enter into a war zone. The video clip showed a flight attendant wrapped in an Israeli flag singing with the passengers with joy and determination. Love can make us do some crazy things. Love allows us to overlook many issues and problems. In this critical moment we each must ask ourselves whether there’s enough love in our lives- towards each other and towards Medinat Yisrael. 

No One Said it’s Supposed to be Easy

 Some people love IKEA furniture. I’ve had my issues with the desk we bought there. Admittedly, I am partly the cause of the problem. The desk came in a flat box in 25 pieces, I am sure that I did not properly construct it from the outset.. And if it’s not properly built initially, then you are bound to have subsequent. Full disclosure: 23 years later we still use that desk. The lesson is that things don’t have to be perfect in order to be sturdy. Nevertheless, it is true that the more pieces an object comes in, the less sturdy and impressive that object will be. In this morning’s Parsha we read about two objects that were impressively made from one single piece. The Parsha opens with the command directed towards Aharon to light the Menorah. Thereafter, the Torah provides a one-pasuk description of the menorah’s construction: “This is the workmanship of the Menorah: hammered out (Miksha) of one piece of gold; from its base to its flowers it is hammered out.” The fact that the Menorah was sculpted out of one piece of gold was a feat so impressive that even Moshe was stumped as to how the menorah was to be constructed. Later in the Parsha, we read about the Chatzotzrot. Moshe was commanded to make two silver trumpets. Here again the Torah specifies that the trumpets must be “miksha”, shaped out of a single piece of silver. And though not mentioned in our Parsha, there is one additional ritual object that had to be shaped from one piece: the Keruvim, which sat on top of the Aron had to also be Miksha. The word Miksha comes from the word Kasha, which means hard or difficult. To sculpt these elaborate objects can certainly be considered difficult. But why were these three items singled out for Miksha treatment? Is there any common thread between the Menorah, the trumpets and the Keruvim that can help shed light on this shared construction requirement? The key to understanding the Miksha factor is by seeking the symbolism inherent in each of the aforementioned items. The Menorah symbolizes Torah knowledge. The Talmud in Baba Batra learns from the position of the Menorah in the mishkan that Harotzeh Sheyachkim Yadrim: one who wants to become learned must orient towards the Menorah, on the southern wall of the Mikdash. The Gemara in Sukah (5b) states that the Keruvim resembled children. The chatzotzrot symbolize happiness. In this morning’s Torah reading, the last pasuk relating to the trumpets sums up the instances in which they were blown (10: 10). The sound of the chatzotzrot was supposed to both foster and express our feelings of joy. Torah, children and happiness: three of the most fundamental and essential aspects of our lives. Each stands on its own as an important pursuit, and yet they are inextricably entwined one with the other. One might think that as fundamentals, success in these areas should be easy. The Torah makes the point to tell us each instance: “Miksha Hi.” They’re hard to accomplish and hard to maintain. These three values seem to pull us in three different directions. Spending time learning Torah versus time spent with our families. The financial stress of paying for a Jewish education for our children, and how much happier we imagine we could be without that burden. Some people believe that such tensions and questions are symptoms of a lack faith and that the Torah has a clear answer for every situation. By examining the menorah, the chatzotzrot and the keruvim, we are better equipped to appreciate that at times the Torah’s lesson is to embrace the challenge and the tension. By specifying these three objects the Torah teaches us that even with goals as essential as Torah, family and joy, it’s OK to say “Miksha Hi.” By appreciating the inherent difficulties, may we merit to enjoy the full measure of Hashem’s blessing in all of these important facets of our life.

Opportunity Costs in Avodat Hashem

 In Judaism, the concept of sin is often misunderstood. We tend to think of an Aveira as actively doing something forbidden: violating a Halacha, hurting someone, or disobeying Hashem’s mitzvot. But Jewish tradition encourages us to see that the real tragedy of sin is not only in what we do wrong, but in what we could have done right instead. Every moment we spend on something spiritually negative is a moment we are not building, not learning, not growing, and not giving. The word the Torah uses for sin is "chet", which comes from the root meaning “to miss the mark.” It implies not only a mistake, but a failure to live up to one’s potential. Sin is not just a matter of breaking laws — it’s about misusing the precious, finite time and energy we’ve been given. An aveira is not simply a negative — it’s an absence of a positive. It’s not only that we did something wrong, but that we failed to do something right. This idea is echoed in the writings of the Vilna Gaon, who taught that every moment not used for Torah or mitzvot is a loss that can never truly be recovered. Similarly, Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin taught that a person will be held accountable not just for the sins they committed, but for the Torah they could have learned and the mitzvot they could have performed instead. In a sense, this perspective raises the bar for us. Living a Torah life is not just about avoiding wrongdoing, but about actively pursuing good.  This is what David Hamelech is teaching us in Tehillim Chapter 34: “Who is the man who desires life, who loves days to see goodness? Guard your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceitfully. Shun evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it.” Avoiding evil is just the beginning. Life is really about doing good-deeds and seeking peace. It has been suggested that a physician’s first responsibility is “Do No Harm”. Even if that is in fact an important aspect of medicine, everyone agrees that doing no harm is merely the context in which healing and saving lives- the real purpose of medicine- can occur. Towards the beginning of Parshat Naso the Torah mentions the obligation of Viduy, confessing one’s sin as an integral step in the Teshuva process. The obligation is worded as follows (5:7): וְהִתְוַדּ֗וּ אֶת־חַטָּאתָם֘ אֲשֶׁ֣ר עָשׂוּ֒. “They shall confess the sin that they did.” The last two words seem superfluous- if you are confessing a sin, it’s obviously a sin that you did. The Kotzker Rebbe explained that the reason a person should not sin is not because it is forbidden or repulsive to the person. Rather a person should not sin because they have no time to sin. If a person sticks to a schedule of daily activities, Torah and mitzvot, they should have no time to do anything else. If a person sins, they must review their entire schedule and examine where they have been lax in allowing for “idle hands” which allows for the possibility of sin. This is how we should read the pasuk: One must confess their sin, and then they must consider what they could have and should have been doing instead of the sin. When we reflect on our mistakes, we should look beyond guilt and ask a more powerful question: What could I have been doing instead? That shift changes our relationship to sin and to life itself. It reminds us that each moment is an irrecoverable opportunity for kedusha.

Bamidbar Before Shavuot

 The Talmud in Megillah (31b) teaches that Ezra instituted to read in shul the blessings and curses from Parshat Ki Tavo before Rosh Hashanah so as to fulfill the doctrine of כְּדֵי שֶׁתִּכְלֶה הַשָּׁנָה וְקִלְלוֹתֶיהָ. “that the year may conclude together with its curses”. The Talmud adds that another aspect of Ezra’s decree was to read the blessings and curses from Parshat Bechukotai before Shavuot. The Talmud notes that the Mishnah in Rosh Hashana refers to Shavuot as the New Year for fruit, and therefore it’s appropriate to read the curses before this New Year begins. Tosfot in Megilah raises the question that usually (as is the case this year) we read Parshat Bamidbar on the Shabbat before Shavuot. (The same is true regarding Ki Tavo: we read it two weeks before Rosh Hashanah). Why don’t we fulfill Ezra’s edict immediately prior to the start of the New Year? Tosfot suggest that the curses are so severe and disconcerting that we schedule a “buffer Shabbat” before celebrating the New Year. However commentators have suggested more intrinsic connections between Parshat Bamidbar and Shavuot. The Talmud in Nedarim (55) teaches that Torah is able to maximally impact those who “make themselves like a Midbar.” Just as a desert is sparse, so too a person who is humble is best suited to absorb the Torah’s lessons. While we must have Jewish pride and be proud that the Torah is ours, Parshat Bamidbar reminds us that the Torah’s way is to adopt a healthy dose of humility. The Chidah (in Nachal Kedumim) writes that the Gematriya of the words במדבר סיני is the same as the word “Shalom”.  Peace and harmony is both a prerequisite for receiving the Torah as well as an outcome of keeping the Torah. Violence in the name of religion is anathema to Jewish tradition. Before receiving it every year, Parshat Bamidbar reminds us that the paths of Torah are peaceful. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein noted that Sefer Bamidbar is referred to as Numbers, Chumash HaPekudim. We count something (or someone) that is valuable and important to us. An appropriate way to prepare for Matan Torah is to be reminded through the Parsha that every single Jew is valuable. Every single Jew is counted because every Jew counts. When we find ourselves part of a large crowd sometimes we think that we don’t really matter, or that our contributions are not necessary. We might say to ourselves “someone else will make the shiva minyan” or “someone else will contribute to the shul” or “someone else will invite that person over for a Shabbat or Yom Tov meal.” We prepare to accept the Torah by remembering that each of us counts and each of our contributions are indispensable.  Parshat Bamidbar also teaches the specifics of the encampment. The lesson is that life is meant to be lived in community and shared with others. We may be individuals but we greatly benefit from camaraderie. Therefore we must choose our company wisely. Parshat Bamidbar reminds us before Shavuot to share our lives with people who are growth oriented and who embrace the Torah. We  embrace our individuality as we grow together in the pursuit of meaning.

The Best Self-Help Advice: Help Others

 Martin Luther King Jr. said the “surest way to be happy is to seek happiness for others.” Research published by a team of psychologists at the University of Missouri-Columbia suggests that our own happiness is, indeed, influenced by the kindness and generosity we show others. In one study, participants were approached on the street after parking their cars. They were given a few quarters by a research assistant and were asked to either feed their own parking meters or the meters of an adjacent car. The researchers then asked participants how happy they felt. Interestingly, people who fed others’ meters showed a greater boost in happiness than those who fed their own meters, despite not knowing who they were helping. In another experiment, the researchers asked participants to either recall a time they tried to make someone else happy or themselves. Participants were asked to write a few sentences describing the event and rate how happy it made them feel. Again, participants who were prompted to recall a time they tried to improve the happiness of someone else reported higher levels of remembered happiness than those who wrote about a time when they tried to improve their own happiness. The research squares with other studies showing how spending money on others increases one’s happiness more than spending money on oneself. But it’s not just financial generosity that has the power to increase our happiness — donating our time to someone in need, or simply adopting a mentality that puts others’ happiness above our own, has a positive impact on our psychological well-being. The researchers offer a good explanation for why they saw the results they did. They suggest that it has to do with our basic psychological need for “relatedness,” or feeling close to others. According to the researchers, an attempt to make another person happy inspires feelings of closeness which, in turn, explains why people end up feeling happy themselves. In relating the prohibition of charging interest to a fellow Jew, the Torah in Parshat Behar states (25:35): וְכִֽי־יָמ֣וּךְ אָחִ֔יךָ וּמָ֥טָה יָד֖וֹ עִמָּ֑ךְ וְהֶֽחֱזַ֣קְתָּ בּ֔וֹ. “If your brother becomes destitute and his hand falters beside you, you shall support him”. According to typical Hebrew grammar the correct word for “him” is “Oto”. The word “Bo” usually means “in it” or “through him”. The Skulene Rebbe explained that this pasuk hints at the fact that by helping the person in need you are really supporting and strengthening yourself. Over the years many thinkers, including Kant, Nietzsche, and Freud, have pondered whether humans can act in a purely altruistic manner or are there always ulterior motives when humans do good towards others. From a torah perspective the question is moot. As indicated by the pasuk in our Parsha, feeling good about doing good deeds for others is not a flaw, it’s a feature. As we close the Aron we say the pasuk from Mishlei “עֵץ־חַיִּ֣ים הִ֖יא לַמַּחֲזִיקִ֣ים בָּ֑הּ” Torah is a tree of life for those who take grasp of it. The Chofetz Chaim points out that according to proper grammar, the correct Hebrew word should be “Otah” and not “Bah”. By using this terminology we are reminding ourselves that by engaging in Torah we are strengthening ourselves. Torah is the best Self-Help book out there, because it emphasizes the fact that we are best helped when we help others.

Be Careful with Your Excuses

 Midrash Rabbah (Vayikra 26) tells a story of how Hashem gave Moshe a “sneak peak” into the Jewish future and showed Moshe the main characters, both heroes and villains, of each future generation. Among the images Moshe was shown was the image of King Shaul, first king of Israel, lying next to his son Yonatan and both mortally wounded by Philistine swords. Moved by this vision, Moshe asked Hashem what Shaul had done to deserve such a heinous punishment. Hashem responded that Moshe could talk to the Kohanim (the tie-in with the first words of this week’s Parsha: Emor El HaKohanim) and the Kohanim would tell you that Shaul was liable for a harsh punishment due to his role in the massacre at Nov, a city of Kohanim (as described in Shmuel I: 6). Many have a hard time understanding this midrash. They point out that later in Shmuel I:15 we read how Shaul leads the battle against Amalek. While the prophet told Shaul to destroy everyone and everything associated with Amalek, King Shaul spared Agag, the king of Amalek. The prophet Shmuel confronts Shaul about this lapse and subsequently tells Shaul that he will be punished due to this sin of omission. If The Navi himself says that Shaul is punished for sparing King Agag, then how can the Midrash say that Shaul is punished for destroying the city of Nov? Rabbi Frand quotes an answer from the Sefer HaDrash VehaIyun. It is true that Shaul was punished for sparing the life of King Agag. However Shaul, or his defenders, could have justified his doing so by arguing that Shaul naturally had a soft heart. The argument could have been that Shaul was too compassionate and therefore could not bring himself to slay the Amalekite king. While such a defense would not have completely exonerated Shaul (after all, he still was in violation of a prophetic demand) it could have nonetheless mitigated his sin and softened his punishment. However the massacre at Nov shut down the possibility of any such defense. Shaul demonstrated at Nov that he did not naturally have a soft heart. His sin of sparing Agag was NOT due to an innate sense of compassion; it was completely unjustified and therefore liable for the full brunt of his deserved punishment.  This explanation is something that we need all need to seriously consider and confront in our own lives. There are times in life when we do not live up to the Torah’s expectations or even to our own expectations. Sometimes we will make a compelling excuse for why we did not live up to those expectations. The Midrash is cautioning us to be honest with ourselves about the veracity of those justifications. For instance, a person may justify not volunteering to do chesed because they claim that they have no free time. If that is indeed the case, then perhaps that is a valid justification. However if they find time to engage in leisure or social activities, then that justification becomes suspect and perhaps even an indictment. A person may explain their lack of attendance at minyan or at shiurim is due to a lack of time and conflicting responsibilities. That might be a valid justification. However if that person finds the time for other discretionary activities, like going to the gym or getting together with friends, then their justification should be reevaluated. Just as we feel a need to find the time to work out our bodies, so too we should feel the need to work out our minds and our souls. Just as we feel the need to connect to friends, so too we should feel the need to connect to Hashem and to Am Yisrael. The Torah does not expect us to be superhuman. There are times when we may be exempt from one priority due to our responsibilities towards other priorities. The Midrash at the beginning of Emor reminds us that this only works when we are honest with ourselves and when we have given serious thought to what our life priorities should be.

How We Behave When No One is Looking

 Three of the Mitzvot in Parshat Kedoshim are: 1) Do not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block in the front of the blind; 2) do not hate another person in your heart; 3) and do not have inaccurate weights and measures. At first glance there is no connection between these three prohibitions. However, upon further reflection you realize that all three of these Mitzvot are examples of prohibitions that we could violate and get away with. If I curse the deaf, he can’t hear me. The blind person cannot see who put the stumbling block in front of him. I can hate anyone in my heart without that person or anyone else ever knowing. And if I am a storekeeper and have inaccurate weights and measures, chances are that I could get away with it most of the time. There are three reasons why even if I won’t get caught, these actions are still wrong and must be avoided. First, whether I get caught or not these actions are still hurtful and harmful to the victim. By placing a stumbling block in front of the blind, I am physically hurting him. By having inaccurate weights and measures I am financially harming someone. And cursing the deaf or hating someone in my heart will have a negative impact on the way that person is treated by me and others. Second, even if no other human being catches what I did wrong, Hashem will always know. Perhaps this is why after each of these three Mitzvot the Torah reminds us: “Ani Hashem” “I am G-d”. Hashem is telling us that even if no one else knows what we did, He certainly does and will deal with us accordingly. Lastly, these actions are wrong even if I won’t get caught because of the negative impact that it will have on me. The purpose of the Mitzvot is to make me a better person. Doing a mitzva in public for all to see is a wonderful thing. But even more wonderful is when a person does a Mitzvah when no one is around to see it or to congratulate me.  At the beginning of this week’s Parsha, we read about the gifts to the poor known as Leket, Shikcha and Peah. A field owner must leave some of his crop in his field after the harvest so that poor people can come and take what they need. The field owner does not know the recipient of his charity. It’s also entirely possible that the poor who take this charity do not know who actually owns the field. To give tzedaka in a way that the giver and recipient both remain anonymous is considered by the Rambam as one of the highest forms of Tzedaka. Here again we see an example of a mitzva being performed without any fanfare, and it is considered to be one of the best ways to fulfill it. Just as it is important to perform Mitzvot in public when the spotlight is on us, so too it is important for us to appreciate the value of private and anonymous Mitzvot, when no one is looking. Just as we must be careful to avoid a public Chilul Hashem, we must also avoid bad behavior when no one is looking and when we might be able to get away with it.