The Crucial Lesson of Zevachim

                                    

Both Yaakov and Yosef are anxious to be reunited in Egypt. And yet we read that Yaakov makes a stop along the way (46:1): וַיִּסַּ֤ע יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְכָל־אֲשֶׁר־ל֔וֹ וַיָּבֹ֖א בְּאֵ֣רָה שָּׁ֑בַע וַיִּזְבַּ֣ח זְבָחִ֔ים לֵֽא-לֹהֵ֖י אָבִ֥יו יִצְחָֽק: “And Israel and all that was his set out and came to Beer Sheba, and he slaughtered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac.” As eager as Yaakov was to see his son, he makes sure to take a moment to direct his attention and appreciation to Hashem. Upon hearing that Yosef is alive and well in Egypt Yaakov has experienced a “Shehecheyanu” moment. As eager as he might be to reach his destination Yaakov understood the need to turn to Hashem in appreciation for surviving to see the happy ending of this dramatic saga and in recognition that throughout the entire ordeal of Yosef’s disappearance there had in fact been a Divine plan unfolding. One could ask: Granted, we understand why Yaakov feels a need to offer sacrifices. But why does he do so in the middle of his family’s journey down to Egypt? Why not offer the sacrifices immediately upon hearing the good news of Yosef’s wellbeing, before embarking upon the journey? Alternatively, why didn’t Yaakov wait until after his reunion with Yosef, so that he could offer the sacrifices to Hashem with a full measure of joy and gratitude?

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch noted that it is here, for the first time in history, that we are introduced to “zevachim” sacrifices. Until this point in time, all other sacrifices to Hashem (offered by Hevel, Avraham, Yitzchak etc) were in the form of an Olah, a burnt offering where the entire sacrifice is dedicated to God. Olot represent the idea of dedicating oneself completely to God. A Zevach is a sacrifice offered in part to Hashem but the rest is then consumed by the person offering the sacrifice along with his/her family. Rav Hirsch explains that zevachim teach us the idea that Hashem can accompany us in all of our activities, even in the mundane activity of eating. Yaakov takes a lunch break with his family along his journey to Egypt. He offers zevachim there for the first time in history to teach his family- and us- that we have the ability to imbue spirituality even into the seemingly mundane activities of daily life. Through this episode we learn for the first time that a Jew’s dining table can be an altar and a Jewish home can serve as a Temple. The idea that a Jew’s religious life must encompass the totality of our existence is an idea emphasized by the Rav, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik. In Halachik Man, the Rav wrote (pg. 33): “The task of the religious individual is bound up with the performance of commandments, and this performance is confined to this world, to physical, concrete reality, to clamorous, tumultuous, life, pulsating with exuberance and strength.”

Perhaps this is why Yaakov chose to offer his zevachim specifically in the middle of his journey. He is teaching us that not only can you serve Hashem through seemingly mundane activities such as eating, but that this service can and should be accomplished anywhere and at any time: even on the side of the road during a long family trip down to Egypt.

Renewal and Inauguration: Two Aspects of Chanukah

 Our Chanukah study and celebration generally focuses on renewal. After the Maccabee victory the Jews purified the Beit Hamikdash and renewed the Temple service and restored Jewish rule over Jerusalem. However Rav Aharon Lichtenstein zt’l (in a talk that he delivered in 1999) notes that the word “Chanukah” means to dedicate something for the first time, to inaugurate, to innovate. Chanukah was not only about restoring that which was. Chanukah was also about inaugurating and creating new ideas that would help the Jewish People going forward. Rav Lichtenstein notes that these two motifs of renewal and inauguration are reflected in the Al HaNisim prayer. First we say that Chanukah celebrates restoring that which was: “Afterwards, Your sons entered the Holy of Holies of Your Abode, cleaned Your Temple, purified Your Sanctuary.” But restoring that which was is only half the story. Chanukah is also a celebration of dedicating something new, as Al Hanisim goes on to say: “and kindled lights in the Courtyards of Your Sanctuary, and designated these eight days of Chanukah.” The first time the root of “Chanukah” is found in the Torah is in Bereishit 14:14. When Avraham hears that his nephew has been captured, he prepares to go to battle to bring Lot back: וַיָּ֨רֶק אֶת־חֲנִיכָ֜יו. Rashi explains the word “Chanichav”:

it [חֲנִיכָיו] is an expression of the initiation (lit. the beginning of the entrance) of a person or a utensil to the craft with which he [or it] is destined to remain.”

Something new must have been created as a result of Chanukah. Rav Lichtenstein notes that in the aftermath of the Chanukah story, a new formal obligation of Hallel and thanksgiving was instituted to thank Hashem for enabling the Greek defeat at the hands of the Maccabees. While on other holidays we recite Hallel, Chanukah is the only holiday on which Hallel is intrinsic and integral to the definition of the holiday. As we say at the very end of the Al Hanisim prayer for Chanukah, our Rabbis “designated these eight days of Chanukah to thank and praise Your great Name.”

While lighting Chanukah candles in our homes may seem like a reenactment of the restoration of the Menorah service in the Temple, there are major differences between the two. For instance, while the Menorah was a seven branched candelabra, our Chanukiyah has nine branches.  Also, the Menorah was only lit in the Beit Hamikdash, and we light our Chanukah candles at home. Ner Chanukah belongs to an exclusive list of Mitzvot D’Rabbanan, commandments instituted by the Rabbis. We consider these mitzvoth to be binding just like a Torah-sourced mitzvah. We see this from the fact that we recite a bracha over lighting Chanukah candles in which we say “You, God, have sanctified us with mitzvoth and commanded us to light Chanukah candles”. The power and importance of Rabbinic Judaism is a second innovation created by Chanukah.

Third, Rav Lichtensetin notes that after the Chanukah victory, the Jewish People enjoyed Jewish sovereignty over the Jewish homeland for over two centuries. While there may have been problems with that Jewish Commonwealth, it is an accomplishment to be celebrated. It was also a new era for the Jews, one which had not existed in Israel for centuries.

The story of Chanukah as a celebration of both renewal and inauguration, of both continuity and change, resonates with me at this particular juncture in the history of our kehillah. Our mission is to be true to our values while being open to innovation and change. We should celebrate our past and embrace changes that will allow us to shine even brighter in the future.

No Job is Unimportant When It Comes to Doing Our Part

 As a child in New Haven, CT, I was encouraged and called upon to be an active participant and contributor to synagogue life in ways that would probably seem foreign, even bizarre, to our youth today. Some things stay the same, like leading Yigdal/ Adon Olam. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Here are three of my strongest memories related to my childhood shul experience:

1) Setting up the Kiddush after davening and cleaning up afterwards. Not just throwing out my cup and plate (which I encourage everyone to do at our shul as well). I mean taking herring out of the jar in the shul kitchen and sticking a toothpick in it. I mean cutting up Entenmann’s cake and plating it.  I mean schlepping the garbage can out to clean up and then bringing it back into the shul kitchen.

2) Getting ready for the High Holidays and Pesach: helping to hang the white parochet. Cleaning out the pews, not just the pew where I sat (which I encourage all of us to do) but going from seat to seat to remove candy wrappers, tissues (some clean, some unfortunately not) and any other garbage that might have accumulated. Putting out (and then putting back) the Machzorim for Rosh Hashana and then for Yom Kippur.

3) Using a sledge hammer. The Sisterhood decided to refurbish the front lobby and put in new tile. In order to save money a group of youngsters, myself included, was commissioned to rip up the linoleum in preparation for the new floors. We used scrapers and a sledgehammer to get the job done.

In our small town shul, I learned an important lesson through these experiences: You need to appreciate the unique and irreplaceable contributions that you can make for your shul, for your community, for your world. And if you don’t do it, no one else will. It just won’t get done.

Many of the opportunities that I encountered are not available in a congregation like ours. The size of our shul coupled with a commitment from the membership and lay leadership affords us the opportunity to have professional and dedicated administrative and building staff who work very hard to ensure that our logistical needs are taken care of. The size and scope of our operations makes it highly unlikely that our teenagers will be called upon to work on renovations or expansion projects when they occur (may they start speedily in our days).

But absent hands-on experiences, I fear that people begin to think that they are expendable; that it’s Ok if I don’t participate or contribute, because things will get done without me. There is a risk that people start to think: There will be a Minyan for those who need to say kaddish whether or not I come on time (or come at all). The leining will get done – whether I volunteer or not. Jewish communal life in Hollywood will roll on whether I participate and contribute my unique abilities or not.

Rav Moshe Feinstein notes that before we read about Yosef the dreamer and Yosef the man destined for leadership, we read that Yosef was a shepherd alongside his brothers (37:2). Rav Moshe suggests this comes to teach us the humility of Yosef. Before he utilized his unique talents for leadership, he contributed in his unique way to herd sheep alongside everyone else. Yosef teaches us that there is no such thing as an unimportant contribution to our family/ community/ world. Yosef also teaches us that we develop into the people we are destined to become by always looking for ways to participate, no matter the size or prestige of the task at hand.

Self-Fulfillment- Through Connecting with Others

In between when Yaakov takes leave of Eisav and the story of Dina’s abduction, the Torah tells us that Yaakov arrived in Shechem: וַיָּבֹא֩ יַעֲקֹ֨ב שָׁלֵ֜ם עִ֣יר שְׁכֶ֗ם אֲשֶׁר֙ בְּאֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן בְּבֹא֖וֹ מִפַּדַּ֣ן אֲרָ֑ם וַיִּ֖חַן אֶת־פְּנֵ֥י הָעִֽיר׃

“Jacob arrived safe in the city of Shechem which is in the land of Canaan—having come thus from Paddan-aram—and he encamped before the city.” While the literal translation of “Vayichan” is “and he camped”, the Talmud homiletically interprets it to mean “and he graced” from the Hebrew word “Chein”. The Talmud (Shabbat 33b) explains:

“And Jacob came whole to the city of Shechem, which is in the land of Canaan, when he came from Paddan-aram; and he graced the countenance of the city” (Genesis 33:18). Rav said, the meaning of: And Jacob came whole, is: Whole in his body, whole in his money, whole in his Torah. And what did he do? And he graced the countenance of the city; he performed gracious acts to benefit the city. Rav said: Jacob established a currency for them. And Shmuel said: He established marketplaces for them. And Rabbi Yoḥanan said: He established bathhouses for them.

The Talmud suggests that upon arriving in Shechem Yaakov wanted to contribute to his new surroundings in a positive way. The Rabbis argue over what exactly was that contribution. Rav Kook explained that all three suggestions are ways to help your surroundings and to build community. Bathhouses and marketplaces are public arenas that promote the public good. Coins are necessary to develop a sophisticated economy that is based on more than just bartering. Without coins you are limited in your business dealings to those people whom you know and who possess items that you want or need. The introduction of coins allows you to engage in business beyond your friends and family. Anyone with coins becomes a customer.

Yaakov here is teaching us the importance of building community and of connecting with larger groups. It is no coincidence that the Talmud’s emphasis on connecting and helping others only comes after the Talmudic teaching that Yaakov arrived in Shechem feeling whole and in a good place. Only when we personally feel strong and confident can we extend ourselves to the fullest in order to help others and connect with others.

This year our shul has adopted the theme of “unity and connection”. We are constantly seeking out ways to follow in Yaakov’s footsteps by encouraging each other to contribute to the greater good by expanding our networks and connecting with others in our community that may not currently be in our sphere of acquaintances. After the positive feedback we received after the Kol Nidrei Appeal Appreciation Kiddush, we have decided to host another CommUNITY combined Kiddush in honor of Shabbat Mevorchim. It will take place next Shabbat, December 17^th in the tent after the 9 AM and 9:15 AM minyanim. We hope that it creates another opportunity and another reminder of the importance and value of unity and connections within our shul community. (To become a CommUNITY Kiddush sponsor go to: https://www.yih.org/shabbatmevorchimkiddush . I hope to see you there!

The Power of Grandparents

 

My Oma and Opa lived in Dallas. After my Oma passed away, I went to visit my Opa. On that trip my grandfather made me flat bread pizza for lunch one day. He put crush red pepper on the pizza. I had never had crushed red pepper on my pizza before, and I loved it. My Opa served as a cook in the US Army during World War II, so I was not surprised that he had a knack for seasonings. I don’t always put red pepper flakes on my pizza (and I don’t eat pizza as often as I once did), but whenever I do I think of my Opa. I remember another incident when my grandparents were with us for Yom Tov. I was walking home from shul with my Opa and he was talking to me about saffron, the spice. He mentioned to me how saffron and ginger are spices mentioned in the Gemara. That conversation was well over 30 years ago, and yet I clearly remember that interaction with my grandfather. 

There’s a saying that grandparents and grandchildren get along so well because they have a common enemy: the parents. While that may be a joke, the bond between grandparents and grandchildren is unique, as is the impact that grandparents can have on their grandchildren. In Parshat Vayeitzei, the story shifts focus onto Yaakov. While we generally refer to Jacob as Yaakov Avinu (our father Jacob, ie one of the patriarchs), our tradition also refers to Jacob as Yisrael Saba, (Grandfather Israel). There are two instances in this week’s Parsha that our Rabbis relate to the influence that grandparents can have on grandchildren.

In Vateitzei we read how Yaakov flees his parents’ home to escape Eisav’s rage and to find a wife in Padam Aram. Yaakov meets Rachel and realizes that she is “the one”. At that meeting Yaakov cries (Bereishit 29:11). Rashi quotes a Midrash that explains the backstory. When Yaakov ran away, Eisav sent his son Elifaz to kill Yaakov. Elifaz caught up with Yaakov and was about to kill him, when Yaakov convinced Elifaz that he could rob his uncle instead, because a person without any money is considered to be dead. Rashi notes that Elifaz was reluctant to kill Yaakov, even though he was commanded to do so by his father, because Elifaz grew up in Yitzchak’s home. Elifaz was positively influenced by his grandfather to the extent that he was willing to disobey his father’s immoral demand and save his uncle’s life.

At the end of Vayeitzei we read about the descendants of Eisav. One of Eisav’s grandchildren was Amalek. Amalek’s father was Elifaz. The Midrash explains that Elifaz encouraged his son Amalek to support and befriend the descendants of Yaakov, because Yaakov’s family is blessed. Amalek did not listen to his father. Instead, he harbored a deep hatred for Bnei Yisrael, and Amalek is the symbol of those who hate Jews throughout the ages. Why didn’t Amalek listen to his father? The Midrash explains that Amalek was more influenced by his grandfather Eisav, who held on to a deep hatred for Yaakov and his descendants. Just as Elifaz was most influenced by his grandfather Yitzchak and therefore saved Yaakov, so too Amalek was most influenced by his grandfather Eisav to antagonize Yaakov. Once again we see the power of grandparents to influce their grandchildren and, sometimes, the course of Jewish history.

 

The “BaKol” Mindset

 

What exactly does it mean to be “blessed with it all”? This is the question that needs answering when we read about the end of Avraham’s life in Parshat Chayei Sara (24:1):

וְאַבְרָהָ֣ם זָקֵ֔ן בָּ֖א בַּיָּמִ֑ים וַֽה בֵּרַ֥ךְ אֶת־אַבְרָהָ֖ם בַּכֹּֽל:

And Abraham was old, advanced in days, and the Lord had blessed Abraham BaKol (with everything).

Rashi quotes that the Gematriya of the Hebrew word “BaKol” is the same as the word “Ben”, son. As the chapter goes on to describe the search for a wife for Yitzchak, it prefaces that story that reminding the reader that Yitzchak was a blessing for Avraham (and Sara), the fulfillment of the Divine promise of progeny. An alternate explanation suggests that Avraham was also blessed with a daughter whose name was “Bakol”. Rabbi Marc Angel suggests that the reference here to “Bakol” is meant toi remind us of the many places where Hashem promised, blessed and reassured Avraham that He would make Avraham the patriarch of God’s chosen nation. Some examples of verses where the word “kol” is used are:  “And through you, all (kol) the families of the earth will be blessed” (12:3). “For all (kol) the land which you see, to you will I give it, and to your seed forever” (13:15). “This is My covenant which you shall keep, between Me and you and your seed after you: every (kol) male among you shall be circumcised” (17:10). Rabbi Angel suggests that at the end of his life Avraham, like many people, questioned his accomplishments and wondered about his impact on the world and his ultimate legacy. The blessing of “BaKol” is Hashem’s reassurance that the Divine promises will be fulfilled, and Avraham will leave an everlasting legacy.

I’d like to offer another explanation. Instead of translating the word “BaKol” as “WITH everything” we can understand the word “BaKol” as meaning “THROUGHOUT everything”. Avraham had some challenges during the course of his life. Midrash identifies ten major tests that Avraham endured. This does not include all of the normal tests, challenges and setbacks that anyone who is human will experience over the course of a lifetime. We would not have blamed Avraham if he felt resentful, worn out, perhaps even a little pessimistic after all that he went through. Instead, he realized that he had lived a blessed life. Avraham realized that Hashem had blessed him at all moments of his life. Both the triumphs and the chllenges were blessings. Some blessings are more obvious, and some blessings are in disguise. We too can strive to emulate our forefather Avraham with a “BaKol” mindset. As the Talmud teaches (Brachot 60b) לעולם יהא אדם רגיל לומר כל דעביד רחמנא לטב עביד: “One must always accustom oneself to say: Everything that God does, He does for the best.”

 

Feeling Lucky

 Though they are both available in Florida, I assume that most people who bought a lottery ticket this week played Powerball, and not Mega Millions. That’s because the Mega Millions jackpot was “only” $120 million, while Powerball jackpot was estimated to be more than $1.2 billion. The odds of winning Powerball: 1 in 292 million. Realists hear the odds and say “there’s no way I am going to win”. Hopeless optimists hear the odds and say “that means I have a shot!” Lottery commissions rely on human psychology and spirit of optimism to fuel sales. Skeptics mock it as a “spirit of delusion”. And yet when jackpots grow absurdly large, even skeptics will play for a chance to win a billion bucks.

What are the odds of winning BOTH? (A man is allowed to dream, can’t he?)

The odds of winning both Powerball and Mega Millions is 1 in 88 QUADRILLION: that’s a 1 followed by fifteen zeros. It’s the number that comes after trillions. Winning “just” the Powerball jackpot of over a billion dollars would certainly change a person’s life. The question, though, is: would that change necessarily be for the better?

TIME magazine published an article (http://time.com/4176128/powerball-jackpot-lottery-winners/) about the terrible things that happen to lottery winners. The article quoted a study that found that 70% of people who come into large sums of money lose it only a few years later. The author goes on to cite several examples of worst-case scenarios involving big ticket winners, including bankruptcy and even murder.

Monetary wealth comes at a price. Literally. Of course your chances of surviving the pitfalls of being rich are probably greater if the wealth is accumulated over time rather than all at once. However, in either case money (in all amounts) carries the burden of responsibility to use it wisely.

Perkei Avot teaches, “More money, more problems.” The rabbis were trying to remind us that with the good comes the bad. As some Powerball winners discover, more money seems like a blessing until it creates more problems than you started with. This week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha, also has an interesting take on that very idea.

Parshat Lech Lecha brings us finally into the narrative of Abraham and Sarah and the true beginning of our history as the Jewish people. The text begins with Avram and Sarai leaving their land, the land that they knew and felt comfortable in, to follow God’s command and go to Egypt. The text continues with their ongoing problems in Egypt and ends with the changing of their names from Avram/Abram to Avraham/Abraham and Sarai to Sarah.

Early in the Parshat Lech Lecha we learn that Abraham went from Egypt back to the Negev with all that he had, together with his nephew Lot. In describing his wealth the Torah states (13:2) וְאַבְרָ֖ם כָּבֵ֣ד מְאֹ֑ד בַּמִּקְנֶ֕ה בַּכֶּ֖סֶף וּבַזָּהָֽב, “And Abram was very heavy with cattle, with silver, and with gold.”

Here the word kaved is used, which translates to mean heavy or burdened. In fact, Rashi comments on the choice of the word kaved and states “very heavy: laden with burdens.” Avraham teaches us that wealth can be burden, and it is also relative and subjective. Avraham was rich with material items, but as we learn later, felt “poor” before he and Sarah were finally able to have children. For a righteous person like Avraham, great wealth is accompanied by a great responsibility to maintain proper perspective and to use one’s resources responsibly. As descendants of Avraham this remains our challenge as well.

What Do You Do with Your Free Time?

 

We are first introduced to Noach at the end of Parshat Bereishit: “And he named him Noah, saying, "This one will give us rest from our work and from the toil of our hands from the ground, which the Lord has cursed." According to this verse, the name Noach is related to the word “Menucha” which means rest. Right before Noach’s birth there were a number of inventions and technological advancements in the field of agriculture that made farming an easier endeavor. Noach was named as a prayer that these developments would usher in a Golden Era. Rav Avraham Pam explained that this phenomenon directly impacted the moral standards during Noach’s time. The onset of technological advancement meant the sudden emergence of free time. As animals, plowshares, sickles and other agricultural tools substituted time-consuming, backbreaking labor, people came upon spare time. This spare time presented the opportunity for spiritual growth and personal development. Sadly, however, the spare time was misused. People instead used the opportunity to fight, indulge, accumulate luxuries, compete with one another, and pursue pleasure and physical gratification at the expense of others. Only Noach took proper advantage of the extra time provided by the eased working conditions. He pursued spirituality over materialism, piety over indulgence.

This may also explain why specifically Noach was chosen to bear the name alluding to the lighter workload. Many children were presumably born around the same time; why was it Noach who was named after the new conditions that developed during that period? Perhaps the Torah seeks to teach us that only Noach represented the proper outlook on free time. If we want to learn how the Torah views comfort and spare time, we should look to Noach, not his contemporaries. If technology and progress has resulted in shorter, fewer and easier workdays, granting us the great gift of free time and spare physical energy, then we must turn to Noach to learn how to use it - for spiritual growth. Otherwise, we run the risk of producing another Dor Hamabul, when extra time results in crime, excessive indulgence and sin.

We are blessed to benefit from tremendous technological advancements that have gifted us with more free time. The question is: What do we do with our free time?

Simchat Torah Stories

 

Since I don’t speak on Simchat Torah I never have the chance to share with you Simchat Torah stories that I come across. This year I’d like to share a few of my favorites. The first two have the same theme:

 

Story One: A stranger once joined the Satmar Shul on Simchat Torah for the celebration. The person danced with such devotion and fervor that the people around him were sure he was a great Tzadik. The Satmar Rebbe, zt”l, however, was unimpressed. “Did you notice that he stepped on other people’s toes while he was dancing? A truly righteous person would be careful not to hurt others with his own religious devotion!”

 

Story Two: The Chofetz Chaim was once asked, “What is the secret of the Hakafot?”

He answered, “When you are covered, with your tallis over your head, and completely one with the Torah that you are  dancing with so dearly, make sure you are extremely careful not to step on your friends foot, because if you aren’t looking then you will never know to whom you have to say sorry! And that is the secret of the Hakafot.”

 

Both the Chofetz Chaim and the Satmar Rebbe agree: Our personal spirituality can never come at the expense of disregarding our fellow Jew.

 

Story Three: The Chiddushei HaRim was watching two different students dancing on Simchat Torah and predicted one student to tire before the other, and it happened just as he predicted. When asked how he could know that, he explained that one bachur was dancing for the Torah he learned this past year and the second was dancing for the future Torah learning he would be doing after being inspired from Simchat Torah. By definition, there is a limit to the past Torah one has learnt, even if it is a large amount, but there is no limit to what one can learn in the future.

 

The best way to take the energy and inspiration of Simchat Torah in particular, and Tishrei in general, with us into the New Year is by committing to make Torah study a regular part of our lives. Along with exercise, time with family and friends and volunteering on behalf of charitable causes, Torah study nourishes our soul and helps us maintain healthy and meaningful lives. Stay tuned for new Torah study opportunities offered through the shul and with the YIH Rabbis and Educators and take advantage of those opportunities.

We Love a Happy Ending

 

The Ramban offers two explanations as to why Haazinu is called a song, “shira”.

One  reason offered is technical. Anyone who got an aliyah today, or was able to see inside the Torah scroll during hagbah can tell you that Parshat Haazinu is written differently than the rest of the Torah. As the Talmud in Megillah 16 puts it, it is written in broken lines (ie two columns) with alternating segments of text and blank spaces.  The second explanation that the Ramban offers is:

“Because Israel will recite it constantly with song and with melody.”

Historically the Ramban’s statement is accurate. Parshat Haazinu was sung in many different contexts by the Jewish people. The Talmud in Rosh hashana teaches that during the times of the Beit hamikdash, the levvim would sing the song of Parshat Haazinu during the bringing of the Mussaf sacrifice. It is interesting to note that in the context of that Gemara, it tells us how the Parsha should be divided into aliyot- it is the only Parsha that the Talmud provides us with this information. The Rambam in Hilchot Tefilah (7:13) quotes a practice to recite the Song of Parshat Haazinu every day right before Yishatabach. The Maharal goes so far as to recommend memorizing Shirat Haazinu and reciting it by heart as a segula, a good omen, for success in business.

But from these three instances, we see that the Shira encapsulated in Parshat Haazinu is something special. The Midrash Sifrei writes that Shirat Haazinu is great, for it includes the present, the past and the future; This World and The World To Come.” This morning’s parsha makes mention of the history of the world and of the Jewish people. It discusses the laws of spiritual cause and effect. That means that difficulties are the result of sin and blessing is the result of doing right in the eyes of G-d; a focus of the past forty days as we prepared for the High Holidays.

The Ramban writes elsewhere that what really makes Shirat Haazinu unique is that it has a happy ending. At the end of the mistakes and difficulties, the Jewish people are redeemed by Hashem. It is this happy ending, this message of hope that makes Shirat Haazinu something special, and something that was found on the lips of Jews more so than other portions of the Torah. Even though the Jewish People have suffered the most and the longest of any nation in existence, we still hold on to hope and optimism. No matter how difficult the Jewish story gets, we still love, and look forward to, a happy ending.

 

 

Attitude is Everything

 

One of the more famous ideas attributed to the great Rav Moshe Feinstein is his explanation for the phenomenon of observant parents whose children are not observant. Rabbi Feinstein was addressing this phenomenon in the middle of the 20^th century, but his explanation remains relevant today. Rav Moshe said that often times the greatest predictor whether children will follow in the traditions and observance of their parents is the attitude that the parents conveyed about living an observant life. If the child would hear a constant refrain from the parents that “it’s hard to be a Jew”, then there was a greater risk that the child would be turned off and leave his/her parents’ ways. However if the child got the impression from his/her parents, through words and attitude, that “it’s great to be a Jew”, then the child would be proud and excited to follow in those footsteps. Rabbi Feinstein suggested that we learn this lesson from our Parsha, Nitzavim. The pasuk states: “This day, I call upon the heaven and the earth as witnesses [that I have warned] you: I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. You shall choose life, so that you and your offspring will live.” The typical way to understand the underlined clause is that the Torah is explaining a cause and the effect. If you choose life, then we will receive the blessing that our offspring will live and thrive. Rabbi Feinstein wonders why the Torah promises us a blessing if we follow the Torah, when this sentiment (in the negative) was already stated in the previous pasukim (17-18): “But if your heart deviates and you do not listen, and you will be drawn astray, and you will prostrate yourself to other deities and serve them, I declare to you this day, that you will surely perish, and that you will not live long days on the land….”

Rav Moshe therefore suggests an alternate reading by taking out the comma in the phrase. “So that your children will live” is not the effect of our choosing life. Rather it is a description of the attitude we must bring to our choice of life. We must choose Jewish identity and Jewish observance in a way that attracts and entices and excites our offspring to do the same. For a parent, choosing a Torah lifestyle is an important and laudable step, but it is not enough. We must live that lifestyle in a way that is attractive and inspiring to our children. No one said parenting was easy. But it is worthwhile. Rav Aharon Lichtenstein zt’l said that his greatest achievement in life was raising his children to be committed Jews who contribute to the Jewish community. That outcome doesn’t happen by itself. It requires a lot of effort- and a lot of prayers to Hashem.

Blessings in Disguise

 

Parshat Ki Tavo contains the curses and blessings that Bnai Yisrael heard at Mt Gerizim and Mt Eival right before they entered the Land of Israel. Early on in the section describing the blessings, the Torah states (28:2) “All of these blessings will come upon you and overtake you…” The term “overtake: is generally used in regards to something bad. Why is it used here to describe the feeling of being blessed? Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski quotes an answer from the Degel Machaneh Efrayim, written by the grandson of the Baal Shem Tov. (The Baal Shem Tov’s yahrtzeit was this week on the 18th of Elul.) He writes that sometimes God’s blessings can come in a form that we find distressful. Not all blessings are obviously good for us. Sometimes a blessing can come to us in disguise. If we don’t recognize the situation as a blessing we may become suspicious, anxious, and even frightened. Our response to a blessing in disguise may be to run away from it, instead of running towards the blessings. In such a situation the Torah promises us that even if we run away from a blessing in disguise, if we ar meant to receive that blessing Hashem will make sure the blessing chases after us and finally catches up to us. A similar idea is used to explain the phrase in Tehillim Chapter 23: “Only goodness and steadfast love shall pursue me
all the days of my life…”

Rabbi Twerski concludes by noting that children cry when they go to the doctor and receive a painful shot. Many children probably wonder why is it that their parents bring them to the doctor to get poked and pricked. But we adults know that parents allow their children to endure momentary pain because it is really for their health and in their best interests. This is even truer when it comes to the situations in which Hashem puts us. Let us be on the lookout for the blessings in our lives. And when things really don’t seem like blessings, let us at least consider the possibility that what we are experiencing is actually a blessing in disguise.

Nostalgia Takes Us Back - and Propels Us Forward

Towards the end of the Parshat Ki Teitzei, there are a few Mitzvot in succession that instruct us to consider the plight of the Ger Yatom and Almanah: the stranger, orphan and widow. First the Torah tells us to be careful to treat these people with extra sensitivity when dealing with them in a court of law. Then the Torah instructs us that whatever gleanings are forgotten in the field, they should be given to the ger yatom and almanah:  people who were faced with challenges above and beyond what others had to surmount. In both cases the torah gives the same reason for these two mitzvot (and utilizes the same language:

Vezacharta kee eved hayita b’eretz Mitzrayim; al kein Anochi metzavecha laasot et hadavar hazeh.

Many commentators explain that since we were slaves in Egypt we know how it feels. And even though we are now free men and perhaps are even successful businessmen with slaves/ servants of our own, we must never forget where we come from and have empathy- for we know what it’s like to be in trying circumstances.

But if that is the case, why must the Torah specify a command to remember. Why not just say: “Treat these underprivileged people, for you too were underprivileged at one time” Why a specific command of Vezacharta to remember? Furthermore, the first time that this reason is suggested, the Torah adds another element: Vayifdecha Hashem Elokecha Misham.- We must remember not only that we were slaves, but that G-d redeemed us from Egypt. How does this aspect fit in to the lesson of empathy?

I believe that in addition to empathy the Torah is teaching us the positive power of nostalgia. Life can get hectic. Over time consistency can turn into rote which can turn into a humdrum existence. We begin to lose sight of what our passions and goals were, why we went into this profession or how smitten we were with our spouse when we were dating, or the pure joy and love we felt when we held our children for the first time as newborns. We forget what it’s all about. So the Torah gives us a suggestion: Remember from where you came; the joy and love that you felt when G-d redeemed you from Egypt. This nostalgia will help propel you to do the right thing as it relates to those less fortunate. And it will also make you a happier and more contented individual.

As we travel through the last month of the Hebrew calendar and prepare for the New Year let us remember the benefits of nostalgia. Let us tap into those memories of the past that can be comforting, heartwarming and inspire us to greater heights in the future.

Spite is Not a Good Reason

 

In one episode of the TV show Seinfeld (“the Wig Master” Episode 129) Jerry buys a crested blazer, but doesn’t like the salesperson that sold it to him. He goes back to the store and wants to return the jacket. When the sales associate asks why he wants to return the jacket, Jerry says “for spite”. The associate then confers with her manager who comes over and tells Jerry that store policy does not allow returns due to spite (and since he already said it was due to spite, they would not accept the return, even if Jerry offered another reason for the return).

Spite is a uniquely human phenomenon, evident in even young children. Paul Bloom, a psychologist at Yale University recently conducted the following experiment. A child, who had a dislike for broccoli, was instructed to look into another room where there was a child behaving badly. Then the observing child is informed that the badly behaving child will be getting his favorite food- broccoli. But before the plate of broccoli is brought to the badly behaved child, the observing child is given the option of eating some of the broccoli (which he doesn’t like) with the knowledge that only his leftovers will reach the badly behaved child. Bloom reports that some children would literally be in tears as they scarfed down broccoli- even though they don’t like it- just to make sure that the other child was not “unfairly” rewarded. Spite is the tendency that people show to be upset by the prospect of someone else benefiting, even if that benefit does not come at their expense in any way.

Being spiteful is not something we necessarily grow out of as adults. People will sometimes work to ensure that another person gain no benefit from a given situation, even though their personal position will not be enhanced as a result. While the Torah does not condone being spiteful, in Parshat Shoftim it acknowledges that spite is a powerful human emotion. The beginning of Chapter 20 outlines some laws of warfare and mentions 4 people who are exempt from military service. The first three of these exemptions are: One who built a new house but has not yet lived in it, one who planted a vineyard but has not yet enjoyed its fruits, and one who is engaged but has not yet gotten married. While these exemptions seem reasonable, the reason offered by the Torah is surprising: “lest he die in the war, and another man inaugurate the house/ redeem the field, take his wife”. The loss of life in battle is always unfortunate/ tragic. Why are these specific circumstances – and especially the possibility of “another man”- worth noting? The Torah is aware of the power of spite. As we gear up for the High Holidays, let us recognize the power of spite in order that we avoid falling into that trap.

We Are Not Trapped by Our Past Decisions

 

Parshat Reeh begins “Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse.” Rabbi Moshe Feinstein notes the peculiarity of the word “today” in the verse. He suggests that the Torah here is reminding us that often people think that the life that they live today is based on the decisions that they made a long time ago. And now we are trapped by those previous decisions. While it is true that decisions have consequences, and sometimes it is impossible to totally undo a decision, every day is a new opportunity. Every day we have the choice: to either affirm our past decisions and continue down the path that we have been on or to choose to do things differently. While we may feel stuck due to past decisions, the Torah wants us to always remember that so long as we are alive we have the ability to make new choices, different choices. One definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and yet expect different results. If we want to see changes in our life then we must make different choices and act in different ways. While this might be difficult, the word HaYom reminds us that every day is a new opportunity to make new choices. 

All Actions Have Consequences

 

By analyzing two interpretations of the word Ekev separately and together, we can suggest an important theme that emerges from Parshat Ekev.

Rashi does not treat the word literally, but rather homiletically. The word Ekev has the same letters as the word Akev, which means a heel. Rashi explains that Moshe here is warning the people not to discard those mitzvot which some would consider easy, or less important. Make sure not to step on them with your heel, says Rashi, and you will be rewarded for taking even ‘kalot’ light mitzvot seriously.

There really is no such thing as kallot, as small things. An attention to detail is necessary in all aspects of our life. As Larry Bell, 20^th cen. industrialist (founder of Bell Helicopters) once said: Show me a man who cannot bother to do little things and I'll show you a man who cannot be trusted to do big things.” The greatest rabbis are those that have a keen attention to detail, people, and causes.

The Ramban explains that the word Ekev means Baavur, literally “because of” or “as a result of”. According to Ramban, the Parsha opens with Moshe reminding the Jewish People that there are consequences to our behavior. How we conduct ourselves will have a direct impact on how G-d relates to us, or more precisely to what degree we are able to benefit from G-d in our lives. This idea forms the backbone of the entire Parsha and is important enough that the Rabbis chose the end of our parsha as the second paragraph of the Shema b/c of its emphasis on Sechar V’onesh, that there are consequences to our actions.

If we allow Rashi’s comments to inform our understanding of Ramban’s interpretation, then the word Ekev reminds us that there are consequences to even seemingly small decisions and actions. And those consequences may be significantly different or more severe than anyone would have ever imagined.

Chazal were familiar with this idea. Take, for example, Shemitah. The idea that Shemitah cancels debts was to benefit the borrowers and allow them to get a leg up every seven years. Instead, it was worse for them as people stopped lending money, Hillel had to ameliorate the situation with the Prozbul. The pages of the Talmud and Midrash are replete with examples of seemingly minor acts of goodness or evil that had consequences far beyond what anyone could have imagined. One word, Ekev, has multiple interpretations. We must appreciate that our actions have consequences.  We must understand that nothing of substance can ever be classified as kallot. Even seemingly minor actions or events can have major impact. If we keep these lessons in mind then we can be assured that that we will be worthy of all the blessings that Hashem has promised us in Parshat Ekev.

 

True Nechama through Changing Our Perspective

 The Talmud in Makkot tells us that Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, Rabbi Yehoshua, and Rabbi Akiva were walking in Jerusalem. Upon reaching Mount Scopus, they saw a fox emerging from the Kodesh Ha-Kodashim. The rabbis were crying while Rabbi Akiva laughed. They asked him, “Akiva! How can you laugh at a time like this? The Beit HaMikdash is in ruins!”

Rabbi Akiva replied, “How can I laugh?! How can you cry?”

They countered, “The Holy of Holies - that could never be entered except by the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur - is now a fox’s den. How can we not weep?”

“That is exactly why I laugh,” answered Rabbi Akiva. “If Uriah’s prophecy of a destroyed and barren Jerusalem can be fulfilled, then I am confident that so, too, Zechariah’s vision of a restored Jerusalem will also be fulfilled.”

The rabbis then declared, “Akiva nichamtanu, Akiva nichamtanu – Akiva, you have comforted us.”

Rabbi Akiva laughed in the face of tragedy because he realizes that consolation will ultimately come. What is difficult to understand is why the rabbis are comforted. What kind of solace is there, when the pain is so intense and so deep, to know that there will be a redemption? For that matter, how does nechama work? We read this morning, “Nachamu, nachamu ami – be comforted, my people.” So begins the shiva d’n’chemta – the seven Haftorahs of consolation that we will read until Rosh Hashanah. They are eloquent and powerful words of encouragement, and they come to strengthen our belief in an ultimate redemption, but how is this supposed to provide comfort?

Nechama is an important concept for Jews. Nichum aveilim – comforting mourners – is a very important mitzvah. There is an organization called Nechama which is dedicated to sending volunteers to trouble spots to help those who are suffering. But what exactly is Nechama?

A look at the term throughout Tanach and in the story of Rabbi Akiva offers us guidance as to what a Jew can hope for in times of sadness, tragedy, or pain. The very first time it is used is in Parshat Bereishit (6:6):

וינחם ה' כי עשה את האדם בארץ, ויתעצב אל לבו.

If we were to translate this using the word comfort, it would read that God was consoled by the fact that He created man, and His heart was saddened. Rather, we should translate the verse as, “And God reconsidered having made man on earth, and He had heartfelt sadness.”

Nechama is not necessarily about feeling better. Even our usage of the traditional expression of consolation, “HaMakom yenachem eschem besoch she’ar avaylei Tzion vi’Yerishalayim,” which we often translate as, “May God comfort and console you among all of us who mourn for Zion and Jerusalem,” is not only about comfort.

Nechama is about a change in perspective. It represents reaching a place – mentally or emotionally – where the individual recognizes that the current reality cannot be the permanent one. God recognized that his initial creation of mankind required adjustment. We encourage the mourner that she or he should, and hopefully will, find perspective in theaftermath of the loss of their loved one. And Rabbi Akiva did not make the Sages feel jovial. He, instead, gave them a new perspective on their tragic situation. The Temple may be in ruins, but there is a next chapter still to come.

The Privilege and the Challenge of Being A Star

 

Towards the beginning of Parshat Devarim, Moshe reminds the Jewish People of the challenges that he faced at the beginning of his tenure as leader (1:9-10): “And I said to you at that time, saying, 'I cannot carry you alone. The Lord, your God, has multiplied you, and behold, you are today as the stars of the heavens in abundance.” On the surface, Moshe is making the argument that the number of Jews is too vast for Moshe to lead alone. In response Hashem suggests that he appoint a number of other leaders to help tend to the people’s needs and to help answer the nation’s questions. However if we look a little closer at the two verses there may be another lesson that we can learn from Moshe’s description. Back in Sefer Bereishit God tells Avraham that he will be the patriarch of God’s Chosen Nation. Hashem goes on to say that Avraham’s descendants will be as numerous as both the sand of the sea and the stars of the heaven. Many commentators try to understand this promise in light of the reality of Jewish history and the population of the world Jewry throughout. While sand and stars both represent the blessing of many, there is an important difference between the two. Each grain of sand is insignificant, and only when many grains of sand come together does sand exhibit the great power to hold back the ocean. On the other hand, each star shines on its own. Throughout the universe there are billions and billions of stars, and each one is significant in its own right. Perhaps here in Devarim Moshe is hinting at the fact that one of his challenges in leading the people was that each one considered themselves a star. We can imagine that it could be difficult to lead a nation comprised of individuals when each of them had a Jewish mother telling them that they are the best and that they are a star. Self-confidence can be tricky. On the one hand it is critical to have a healthy degree of ego. On the other hand, it can be a big problem when a person has too much self-confidence or expresses self-confidence in an inappropriate way or at an inappropriate time. Reb Simcha Punim of Peshischa is famous for saying that a Jew should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a piece of paper saying: "I am only dust and ashes." When one is feeling too proud, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it. In the other pocket should be a piece of paper saying: "For my sake was the world created." When one is feeling disheartened and lowly, reach into this pocket and take this paper out and read it.

 

Mourning the Loss of Emotional Intelligence

If I may borrow a recent term from the world of psychology, the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash caused a profound loss of Emotional Intelligence. There is some dispute as to the definition of Emotional intelligence and whether Emotional Intelligence, or EI, really exists. But Emotional Intelligence is explained as the ability to monitor one’s own and others’ feelings and emotions and to use that information to guide one’s thinking and action towards healthy, constructive and positive outcomes.

The relationship between Tisha B’Av and our inability to feel for others is well documented. The Gemara in Gittin tells us that the destruction occurred due to the type of behavior that is exemplified by the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza; where the host at a party had total disregard for his fellow Jew’s feelings. Yerushalayim is referred to by Dovid Hamelech as Ir Shechubra La Yachdav, the original city of brotherly love. The Beit Hamikdash had the ability to unite Jews, really all humans, in the pursuit of shared goals and common values. Sinat Chinam, baseless hatred and factionalism, was the cause of the destruction of the Second Temple. But Sinat Chinam is also an outcome of the absence of our Beit Hamikdash. Without a spiritual focal point sympathy and empathy become more difficult for us. Divisiveness within the Jewish People becomes more common because each group focuses on themselves without thinking about the other. It is the most vicious of cycles: Our Sinat Chinam led to the Churban and yet without a Beit Hamikdash Jewish unity is elusive. We continue to exacerbate the problem by adding fuel to the fire

In addition to being a locus for our caring for others, the Beit Hamikdash was also the location for self-reflection and personal development. It was the site at which teshuva, repentance, would reach its apex when atonement was achieved on both a personal level (by the sinner bringing a Korban) and on the communal level (through the Temple service daily and on Yom Kippur). The Churban has not only limited our ability to feel for others, but the destruction has also we stunted our ability to feel for ourselves. We lack a critical forum for self-evaluation and self-awareness. In order to mourn for the Beit Hamikdash, we have to make sure that we are able to mourn anything- to feel something! We must strive to be emotionally aware enough to utilize our feelings in a constructive manner.

The ultimate goal of the Three Weeks is to feel real loss and mourn over the Beit Hamikdash. To help achieve that goal we add personal and contemporary facets to the mourning. But even if we don’t reach the goal, there is value in the process. If we do not properly feel the loss of the Temple, then can we at least feel something? It is not easy to be emotionally aware; it takes time and effort. That is why our mourning process does just begin on Tisha B’av. As we enter into the month of Av, let us utilize this time to develop our emotional intelligence to the degree that Tisha b’Av will be meaningful.

 

The Quest for a Truly Selfless Act

The Vilna Gaon was always careful to fulfill the mitzvah of lulav and Etrog on Sukkot, even when it was difficult to obtain those ritual items. One year, there was only one set of lulav and Etrog in all of Vilna, and the Vilna Gaon was committed to fulfilling the mitzvah at all costs. He asked the rich man if he could buy the set from him. The man said, “I will sell you my set on one condition. You agree to give me all of the reward that you accumulate due to the fulfillment of this mitzvah.” Instead of being upset or hesitant, the Vilna Gaon was ecstatic. He said, “All my life I’ve looked forward to being able to fulfill a mitzvah without the expectation of a reward. Finally now I have the chance to do a mitzvah purely for the sake of serving Hashem, ie 100% leshem shamayim.” Philosophers have debated whether it is possible for a person to commit a purely selfless act. Some suggest that if the active person does not benefit to the same degree as the beneficiary, then we should consider it a selfless act. Others suggest that since the active person gains something- a sense of satisfaction or pleasure in doing a good deed- then it doesn’t really count as a purely selfless act. Personally I don’t think we should be so strict on defining selflessness. Any time a person thinks about the other person more than him/herself I believe we can consider that to be a selfless moment. In this week’s Parsha, Moshe asks Hashem to appoint a leader who will lead the Jewish People into Israel after Moshe’s. Moshe describes the qualities that he believes are most important in his successor (27:17) “Let Hashem, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community who shall go out before them and come in before them, and who shall take them out and bring them in, so that Hashem’s community may not be like sheep - that they have no shepherd.” The Magid of Vilna wonders why the Torah didn’t just say “like sheep without a shepherd”. Why does the verse add the phrase “that they have no shepherd.” The Magid explained that the care that most shepherds provide for the flocks is based on self-interest. If the shepherd owns the sheep, then he wants to make sure that they are as healthy and valuable as possible. If the shepherd works for someone then he cares for the sheep so that he will be kept on in his job, or provided a bonus, or referred for another shepherd job in the future. It is the rare shepherd that actually cares for the sheep themselves. Moshe asks God to provide a successor that leads the Jews in a similarly selfless manner. Leadership can come with perks. Leaders might enjoy those perks and not be completely focused on their followers. A true Jewish leader, one that makes Moshe proud, is the one that is able to lead selflessly; for the benefit of the followers and even if it comes at the expense of the leader.

Privacy and Community: The Tension and the Blessings

 In this week’s Parsha, King Balak hires the prophet Bilam to curse the Jewish People. Hashem does not allow Bilam to do so; instead God puts into Bilam’s mouth a series of blessings directed at Bnai Yisrael. One of those blessings is recited daily in our morning prayers (24:5):

מַה־טֹּ֥בוּ אֹֽהָלֶ֖יךָ יַֽעֲקֹ֑ב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶ֖יךָ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל:

How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!          

Rashi understands the first clause in this statement as referring to the value of privacy that Bnai Yisrael maintained. Rashi explains that Bilam was praising the fact that within the Jewish encampment in the desert, no tent openings faced each other. This allowed for privacy, even under cramped and crowded living conditions. Even when the physical area is more spacious, there is the danger within close knit communities of overlooking the value of privacy. The US Constitution ensures a right to privacy.  The Jewish value of tzniut teaches us that not everything is meant for public consumption. There is a value and a need for some things to remain private. Sometimes people have a desire to become entangled in other people’s lives, even when it is not necessary nor requested. While the motivation to get involved in people’s business may sometimes come from a place of love and concern, the outcomes can often be detrimental. Here are a few suggestions for how to mind our own business and avoid impinging on other’s privacy: Avoid gossiping. Accept other people as they are. Don’t form unnecessary opinions. Bilam saw that the Jewish People appreciated the value of privacy, and we must continue to appreciate that value today.

At the same time Judaism believes in the importance of community and helping our neighbors. We do not subscribe to a “live and let live” worldview. Chesed teaches us that we must help others whenever we can. The notion of Arvut is that each Jew is responsible for his/ her fellow Jews. If someone is ignorant we are called upon to teach them. If someone is acting incorrectly we are supposed to help them correct their ways. It seems that Rashi understood that Bilam’s blessing here could not be only an endorsement of privacy, since Judaism also values community and mutual aid. Perhaps that is why Rashi offers a second interpretation of the word “tents”: “How goodly are the tent of Shiloh and the eternal Temple.” According to Rashi’s second interpretation, Bilam is praising the Mishkan/ Bet Hamikdash, i.e. the national spiritual center and symbol of the unity of the Jewish People.

From a Jewish perspective, privacy and community are complementary values. Perhaps the real blessing that Bilam alludes to is striking that balance that allows us to benefit from both privacy and community. I am thinking about this balance between privacy and community as I encourage you to attend the RENEWAL event on Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. in the Social Hall. Our longtime esteemed community member Gary Bloom is in need of a kidney transplant. Publicizing one’s medical condition can be difficult for someone, as it encroaches upon one’s privacy. This can be especially difficult for those of us who view ourselves in general as helping others and rarely on the receiving end of assistance. Even as privacy is a value, the essence of Am Yisrael is helping our fellow Jew whenever we can and in whatever way we can. Please attend the RENEWAL event on Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. to demonstrate our concern for Gary and our commitment to community.

Sometimes We’re Metal and Sometimes We’re Earthenware

 

Parshat Chukat contains the laws of koshering items as well as the laws of purifying utensils that come into contact with tumah, ritual impurity. We learn that there is a difference between metal and earthenware utensils. A metal utensils becomes tamei as soon as it comes into contact with an impure item- even on the outside of the vessel. This stands in contrast to an earthenware vessel that only becomes impure from the inside. The Kotzker Rebbe explained that metal is a substance that has value, even in its raw form (before it is turned into a utensil). Since the substance itself is of value it can become impure from the outside of the utensil. On the other hand, earthenware is made from dirt. Dirt has no intrinsic value. The value of the earthenware vessel is in its utility and craftsmanship. Therefore earthenware can only become impure from the inside i.e. from the source of its value. Human beings are referred to as vessels in different contexts. One’s body is a vessel for one’s soul. We are vessels ready to serve God. And we are receptacles waiting for God’s blessings. In some ways we are like a metal utensil. Each of us, regardless of our abilities and achievements, possesses a dignity and sanctity. Our value is intrinsic, it exists by mere fact that each of us was created in the image of God. On the other hand, the Kotzker Rebbe writes that we can learn a lot from the earthenware utensil. While we may possess intrinsic value, we also possesses tremendous potential that requires hard work, commitment, and determination in order to bring to fruition. The Mishna in Pirkei Avot (4:20) warns us, "al tistakel b'kankan eleh b'mah sh'yesh bo”, one should not judge a person merely based on externalities. We are born with gifts and talents but we must earn the blessings that come with fulfilling the potential of those gifts.

Another difference between metal and earthenware finds expression when it comes to koshering the utensil after coming into contact with non-kosher (hot) food. Metal can be koshered by exposing it to heat; either dry eat or boiling water, depending on the circumstances of how the utensil become unkosher. Earthenware cannot be koshered through heat. In fact there is no recourse for earthenware. If it becomes unkosher it must be smashed. Once smashed it can be remade into a new vessel, and that vessel would be considered kosher. These two methods of koshering represent two paths that can be taken when it’s time to make changes in our life. Sometimes we need to “kick up the heat” ie to add energy, intensity, focus, or attention to the lives that we have been living all along. This is the metal model of koshering. But sometimes in life something drastic has to occur in order to create change for the better. Sometimes we need to smash our status quo and start again with a fresh outlook.

Learning from the Ma’apilim

Last week I was on a Jewish National Fund- USA tour for Rabbis of projects in the south of Israel (Beer Sheva, Yerucham, Arad, Chalutza, Sde Boker) supported by JNF to help realize their goal of increasing Jewish settlement in the periphery of the country. The Negev constitutes 60 percent of the land mass of the modern state of Israel. Yet less than 10% of Israel’s citizens live in the south. JNF is looking to change this reality by investing in infrastructure such as community centers, parks and daycare centers. One of the Jewish heritage sites supported by JNF-USA that we did not visit is the Atlit Detention Center Heritage Site, located on the northern coast about 20 kilometers south of Haifa. In the 1930s and 40s, this site served as a detention center for illegal Jewish immigrants seeking refuge in pre-state Israel.
Illegal immigrants who came to Israel during Alyah Bet are known as “ma’apilim”. Before and during World War II, thousands of Jewish people fled their homes trying to escape persecution and concentration camps. More than 122,000 people came to Israel despite the British blockade. Those who did not have a valid permit to be in the country were detained and placed in camps like the one in Atlit. Some people were in these camps close to one year. The Atlit Detainee Camp was in place until 1945 when Jewish forces broke into the camp, allowing all the detainees to escape.

The term “Maapilim” comes from an episode in Parshat Shelach. After the sin of the spies a small group of Jews decide to enter the land, against Moshe’s request. The entire group was killed before ever reaching Eretz Yisrael.  In our Parsha the Maapilim are sinenrs. And while the application of the term Maapilim to these Jewish immigrants might be chalked up to the secular bent of Israeli society at that time, one can suggest that there is something we can all learn from the Maapilim. The Maapilim were stubborn and unwilling to give up on their dream, even after it was clear to everyone else that the effort was doomed to fail. It is this can-do attitude, optimistic perspective and chutzpah that allows the modern State of Israel to not only survive in a hostile part of the world, but to also thrive. Rav Tzadok Hakohen writes that Moshe stopes the Maapilim and warns them that their mission will be a failure, “V’Hi Lo Titzlach” “and this will not succeed.” Rav Tzadok explains that the Torah here is hinting at the fact that while the Maapilim were not destined to be successful, their attributes and their chutzpah would one day pay off in the future in the successful development of Israel. Today we live in an era of Chutzpah (Talmud Sotah 49b). We need the Maapilim’s chutzpah to develop the State of Israel today. And it will be chutzpah that helps bring the Ultimate Redemption. 

Fire and Cloud: Lessons in Leadership

 

In Parshat Behaalotecha we learn about the DPS that the Jews utilized in during their time in the Midbar. That’s right- DPS: Divine Positioning System. As the Torah states: “On the day the Mishkan was erected, the cloud covered the Mishkan, which was a tent for the Testimony, and at evening, there was over the Mishkan like an appearance of fire, [which remained] until morning.” In order to know when to travel and where to travel to, a pillar of cloud hovered over the Mishkan during the day and a pillar of fire at night. At three junctures in the Torah we are told about the cloud and the fire as part of a Divine Guidance System:  At Yetziat Mitzrayim in Parshat Beshalach at the inauguration of the Mishkan in Parshat Pekudei, and as Bnai Yisrael make their way to Eretz Yisrael- our reference here in Behaalotecha The cloud and the pillar accompany the Jewish People along their national journey from Egypt to Israel. What were their significance? The fire provided light. It led the way so that the People would know where to go. During the day, you don’t need a fire, as the sun accomplishes that task. Instead, the cloud was there “to lead them”. The people may have known which way they needed to travel, yet the cloud was still necessary as a source of encouragement.

Sometimes we need to be led and exposed to ideas and perspectives that we would otherwise not have known. At such times we need the pillar of fire; illuminating an otherwise dark and mysterious path. At other times the path is clearly delineated. We know what needs to be done and we know how to go about doing it. But we’re reluctant. We’re scared. We see others not going down this path, and begin to second guess ourselves. Perhaps we don’t feel like standing out. At those times in life we turn to the amud he’anan, the cloud, to provide encouragement and remind us that we are not alone in this journey.

Summer marks travel season for many of us. As we embark on our journeys, let us recall the lessons of the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud, and allow them to accompany us along all of our life journeys.

Understanding the Context in which Sin Occurs

Parshat Nasso contains the source for the requirement for teshuva, repentance (5:6-7): “When a man or woman commits any of the sins against man to act treacherously against God, and that person is [found] guilty, they shall confess the sin they committed.” Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twersky z’l notes two phrases at the end of this quote that require further analysis and contain important lessons. First, the Torah starts by describing individuals (“a man or woman”) but then shifts to the plural (“they shall confess”). Rabbi Twersky suggests that the Torah is alluding to the role that a community plays in the behavior of the individual. While a person retains his/her free will, and a person will be rewarded and punished for their choices, we cannot ignore the role that community plays in influencing the individual. For example, a person is more likely to sin when s/he is surrounded by negative influences and negative peer pressure. A person is more likely to sin when s/he is surrounded by people who act similarly or who at least tolerate such behavior without protesting, correcting, or rebuking in any way. While holding the individual accountable, the Torah also wants us to consider the responsibility of the community in encouraging, allowing or contributing to the actions of the individual. While the Torah is focused on negative actions, the same can be said about positive actions. A person can be influenced for the good as well by his/her community.

Rabbi Twersky also notes that once the Torah states “they shall confess the sin”, then the phrase “they committed” seems superfluous. Here again, Rav Twersky encourages us to recognize that sin does not occur in a vacuum. When reflecting on the sin, a person should consider the antecedents to that sin. What caused him/her to sin? The Kotzker Rebbe said that the reason that a person should not sin is not only because it is forbidden. Rather a person should not sin because s/he should not have any available time to sin. If a person is engaged in Torah study and mitzvah performance, if s/he is engaged in daily activities with an awareness of how the Torah wants us to live our lives, then there would simply be no time left in one’s day to sin. The fact that sin occurred means that something broke down in the system. Either we didn’t do something that we were supposed to do, or we allowed ourselves to think in ways that brought us closer to sin, instead of keeping us far away. Confessing one’s sins is not only about the particular mistake. Teshuva is also about taking a long hard look at our lives and asking ourselves why and how sin was able to crouch into our actions. In both comments about a verse about confession and repentance, Rabbi Twersky encourages us to also think about increasing the good we do and not merely decreasing our mistakes. We can increase the good we do by 1) surrounding ourselves with positive peer pressure as well as being positive peer pressure for others and 2) keeping ourselves busy with Torah study and good deeds.

 

The Importance of Showing Up

 

Shavuot is one of the three Regalim. In the times of the Beit Hamikdash there was a mitzvah for Jews to come to Jerusalem to “see and be seen”, ie to be inspired by the sights and miracles of the Temple and to “be seen” by Hashem. There are a number of lessons that we can learn from the mitzvah of Aliyah L’Regel. First, it teaches us the lesson of faith in God. On Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot all males were obligated to make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. If all of the men were in Jerusalem, then the rest of the country was vulnerable to attack from enemies. The Torah (Shemot 34:24) assures the Jewish People that Hashem will protect our land while we are in Jerusalem. To act upon this Divine promise and to leave one’s land vulnerable requires a healthy amount of Emunah, faith in God. Second, Aliyah L’Regel teaches us the value in beeing a part of something bigger than ourselves. This is accomplished in at least two ways. In both Parshat Mishpatim and Ki Tisa, the Torah commands us to appear before Hashem. In both places it uses a unique name for God: “Adon”. Adon means “master”. It emphasizes the hierarchy that exists between man and God. When a person goes on Aliyah L’Regel s/he is submitting to the will of God and shows a desire to be counted among those who have accepted upon themselves the yoke of mitzvot. Over the Shalosh Regalim in Jerusalem, Jewish unity was on display. Jews from different places, different professions, and different perspectives all came together in a central location for a common purpose. This sense of unity can be found in an interesting Halacha quoted by the Talmud. Residents of Jerusalem were forbidden from charging visiting Jews money to stay in their homes over the Regel. Residents had to open their homes for free to anyone who needed a place to stay. (The Talmud says that it was common practice for guests to leave a gift- often the leather hides of the animals that were offered as sacrifices.) When you came to Jerusalem for a festival you felt more connected to Hashem, more connected to your fellow Jews, and more connected to the totality of Am Yisrael. It is therefore not surprising that the Halacha encourages us to bring our children with us on Aliyah L’Regel from a very young age. While the obligation of formally training children in mitzvot (ie Chinuch) begins around age 7/8, The Talmud encourages bringing children to Jerusalem starting from a much younger age: as young as when the child can sit on the parent’s shoulders on the way up to the Beit Hamikdash.

What is true about going to the Beit Hamikdash on a Regel is also true regarding showing up at our shul, a Mikdash Me’at. Our shul hosts many minyanim, many shiurim, and many programs. We are constantly encouraging attendance and participation in these activities. It’s important to realize that your participation is not primarily for the sake of the program, or for the sake of other people, or for the sake of the shul. Your attendance and participation in shul activities is primarily for your sake. It empowers you to connect with your fellow Jews, with your community and with Hashem. It reminds you of the opportunity you have to be a part of something greater than yourself. Woody Allen said that eighty percent of success is showing up. When it comes to Aliyah L’Regel- and our relationship with our shul- showing up can be a 100% success.

 

When the Enemy is Within

 

Many Arab advisers were jealous of the Rambam’s privileged status in Saladin’s court, and they plotted against the Rambam.  They approached Saladin and demanded the Rambam be replaced with a better, Arab doctor.

The Sultan proposed a test. He would give both doctors a week to concoct a poison that would be lethal to the other person. Each one would also have at their disposal any medicines they wished, in order to concoct an antidote for the poison made by their opponent. Whoever lived through the experience would win and become the Sultan’s physician.

At week’s end, the two doctors stood in front of the Sultan. The Arab doctor presented his poison to the Rambam. With a brief examination, The Rambam was able to quickly create the appropriate antidote, after which he consumed the poison and the antidote in quick succession. And it seemed to work.

Now it was the Arab doctor’s turn to ingest the Rambam’s concoction. He spent considerable time examining the Rambam’s poison.  Then he made what he hoped would be the antidote and swallowed both. The doctor was pleased when nothing happened to him. But then he got nervous: perhaps the Rambam’s poison was slow acting. Perhaps it would only cause death when a certain food was consumed along with it. So over the next few days he removed items from his diet, first meat, then wheat, until he was barely eating anything. Within a few weeks the Arab doctor died of a heart attack.

Upon hearing the news of the Arab doctor’s death, The Sultan summoned the Rambam to declare him the winner. He told the Rambam how impressed he was that his concoction was such a sophisticated, slow acting and deadly poison. The Rambam set the record straight: He was no killer. His concoction was nothing more than a harmless cocktail of sweet wine. The doctor had died due to complications from his own anxiety and paranoia. 

Parshat Bechukotai contains the curses that will befall the Jewish people should we veer from the path Hashem has set for us. Of the 48 curses there is only one punishment that is mentioned no less than three times:

26:17: you will flee, with no one pursuing you.

26:36: the sound of a rustling leaf will pursue them, they will flee as one flees from the sword and they will fall- but without a pursuer

26:37: They will stumble over one another as in flight from the sword, but there is no pursuer.

Rabbi Baruch Halevi Epstein asks in his commentary Tosefet Bracha: Why is fleeing from nobody considered to be such a bad punishment? I would imagine that fleeing from an actual enemy should be worse, yet it’s the situation of Ayn Rodef, when there is in fact nobody in pursuit that gets emphasized as a particularly difficult punishment.

Rabbi Epstein explains that Hashem promises us that there is hope for Divine intervention on behalf of those actually being pursued by an enemy. However there is no such promise when the enemy from which we flee is a figment of our imagination. Put another way: when confronting real enemies, we can devise a plan that entails both confrontation and prayer to Hashem. But when Ayn Rodef, the enemy is not physical, it is a different and more difficult situation; for the enemy that needs to be vanquished comes from within ourselves. 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Today many people feel pursued by depression, anxiety, stress and other pressures that negatively impact our mental health. We must remove the stigma that many people feel surrounding mental health challenges. Just as we don’t feel embarrassed to go to a cardiologist to address heart issues, we should not be embarrassed to visit a mental health professional to address mental health concerns. If we acknowledge the challenge, remove the stigma and encourage treatment of mental illness, then we can do our part to remove the curse, thereby ushering in the blessing of peace, including peace of mind.

Lessons from Shemittah

The current Jewish year of 5782 is a Shemitah Year. The Torah tells us that the Land of Israel can be farmed for six years, but must remain fallow in the seventh year. That year is a Shabbat for the land. Shemitah was always a very difficult mitzvah to observe. It is a test on par with the test of the Mon during the Jews’ forty year sojourn in the dessert. At that time, the Jews were miraculously supported by food from Heaven. Every night the Jews would go to sleep without any food in their cupboards and hungry children fast asleep. They had no idea where they could acquire food in a natural fashion, if need be. They were totally dependent on the daily miracle of the mon. Such dependence was meant to foster within them their faith in Hashem. The lesson of the mon continues to reverberate for us. Although we are no longer supported in such a miraculous fashion, we nonetheless are challenged to recognize the indispensable role that God plays in our achievements. The test of Shemittah is no less challenging. During the seventh year, the farmer and his family may have produce from the 6^th year to eat. However, leaving the land fallow puts into jeopardy the farmer’s ability to support himself the two years subsequent to the Shemittah year. Shemittah is a test of faith for the farmer. It is therefore not surprising that the prophets were constantly exhorting the Jewish People to strengthen their commitment to the mitzvah of Shemitah.

The Sefer Hachinuch (Mitzvah 84) mentions two other lessons that can be learned from the Shemitah year. First, it reminds us of the power of Chidush, renewal. God created the world in six days, but He also renews the world on a constant basis. Leaving the land fallow every seventh year re-energizes the soil and renews its potential to grow life-sustaining crops. Second, Shemitah teaches us the importance of caring for others. During the Shemitah year, one’s land is considered ownerless, and its produce is available to anyone who wishes to partake of it. The farmer is reminded that even though much of his energies are spent on worrying about his own family, he has a responsibility to his fellow Jew and the broader world as well.

We who live in the Diaspora have limited access to fulfilling the mitzvah of Shemitah. The technical rules of Shemitah become relevant when we vbiosit Israel this year or if Israeli produce is imported to our stores. However the lessons of Shemitah: trust in God, concern for other and appreciating the power of renewal, are lessons that are very relevant. Let us utilize Shemitah 5782 to strengthen our commitment to these values.

Our Count Begins the Day After Shabbat

 

In Parshat Emor (23:15), the Torah introduces the mitzvah of counting the Omer between Pesach and Shavuot by telling us that our count should begin “Mi’macharat HaShabbat”, literally “the day after the Sabbath.” During the Second Temple era this phrase was the subject of a bitter debate between the Sadducees and the Rabbis. The Sadduccees understood this verse to mean that we begin to count Sefira on the first Sunday that occurs after the onset of Pesach. The Rabbis understood that the word “Shabbat” in this context refers to the first day of Pesach. We follow the Rabbis and begin counting Sefira on the second night of Pesach. The Talmud tells us that this debate was so contentious and serious that the date on which the Rabbis prevailed and the Sadducees relented was declared a holiday.

            If the Torah meant the day after Pesach, why does it use the expression “the day after Shabbat”?

            Judaism recognizes the integrity of both the Written and Oral Torah. Sometimes these two vehicles are utilized to convey two different lessons from the very same concept. The most famous example of this is the phrase in the Torah “An eye for an eye.” Our Rabbis interpreted this to mean that a person must pay money as compensation for the infliction of bodily injury. If the law is that money is paid and the perpetrator does not lose his eye, then why does the Torah use the language of “an eye for an eye”? The answer is that the Torah is teaching us a meta-legal principle. To really appreciate the extent of the damage that he has caused, the perpetrator should have to experience some degree of physical pain. No amount of money can make up for the loss and pain suffered by the victim. By right, “An eye for an eye” should be executed literally. However such a system would perpetuate a cycle of violence that the Torah does not want. By utilizing a strict language while interpreting the phrase in financial terms, we are able to learn both lessons from one phrase.

            The same can be said to explain our phrase by Sefirat Haomer. Practically speaking, the Rabbis teach us that the count begins on the second day of Pesach. Yet the Torah utilizes the language of “the day after Shabbat” to teach us an important lesson. The number seven symbolizes the role that G-d plays in the creation and maintenance of the world. G-d created the world in 6 days and rested/ created Shabbat on the seventh. The number eight symbolizes the need for human beings to add our input and become partners with G-d in this world. In the song we sing at the end of the seder, the number eight corresponds to the brit milah, performed on the eighth day of a boy’s life. The Medrash explains that one of the lessons of circumcision is that man is not created perfect by G-d. We have to do our part to perfect ourselves and the world.

            On Pesach we were redeemed from slavery by the grace of Hashem. The people were passive and depended on the kindness of God. Right after Pesach, we are commanded to count the Omer. It is now time for us to leave our mark on the world. “Mimacharat Hashabbat” teaches us that our count begins a new week and represents a new era. Now that we have thanked Hashem for the Exodus, it is time to do our part, add our unique imprint, and become partners with Hashem.

Be Happy- Like Israelis

 Are Israelis happy people? Based on their own admissions, the answer is a resounding yes. Israel has climbed three spots to ninth, its highest-ever placing, in the annual UN-sponsored World Happiness index. It came in 12th last year, up from 14th in 2020. Besides being the Jewish homeland, Israel is a country with a lot of positives. Perhaps most importantly, it is a country that while situated in a challenging part of the globe, understands the importance of optimism. Psychologist Martin Seligman identified a number of characteristics that are associated with optimistic people. Optimists are more likely to internalize positive events; they see themselves as in control of their destiny. That’s why optimists are not likely to give up in the face of adversity. On the other hand, pessimists externalize; they see success as being beyond their control.

 In light of Seligman’s research we can understand why Israel ranks so high in the Happiness survey. In the face of adversity, the founders of Medinat Yisrael never gave up. They took their future into their own hands. 74 years later, Israel continues to believe that a better future happens through our hard work and effort (and prayer).

 Today, many countries are stuck in a pervasive cloud of pessimism. We hear about an impending global economic crisis that many people believe was not our doing and yet we have no ability to avoid. This feeling of helplessness has been generalized and turned into a feeling of despair.

 The dangers of helplessness/ pessimism can be learned from a mitzvah in Parshat Kedoshim. In the fifth aliyah we learn of the prohibition against the disturbing idolatrous practices of Molech, which included child sacrifice. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the name Molech is related to the word Melech, but whereas Melech refers to a specific person, ie the king, Molech refers to an abstract concept of power. Rabbi Hirsch goes on to explain that whether the Molech service involved actual child sacrifice or merely passing children through a fire its purpose was to appease fate. The thinking was that the best we can do is offer one child up to fate with the hope that this will somehow protect the rest of our family from being hurt. (This might explain why if a person offers all of his children in a Molech service, then he is exempt from punishment.) 

The Molech service is predicated on a profound pessimism, a feeling that the world runs in a random fashion and that we have no control over our lives. The Torah makes a point to reject Molech and to emphasize the severity of approaching life in a pessimistic manner. On the heels of Yom Haatzmaut, let us commit to a can-do attitude. Like the Zionist pioneers, let us remember that we have the ability to shape our destiny through serious thought, hard work and an optimistic attitude