From Yom Hashoah to Yom Ha’Atzmaut

We find two curious exchanges between Moshe and Aharon “BaYom HaShemini,” on the eighth day of the inauguration of the newly constructed Mishkan. Chazal explain that this day was as joyous as the day in which Hashem created heaven and earth (Megillah 10b). Amidst this incredible joy, tragedy suddenly struck as Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aharon, are abruptly killed for bringing a foreign fire into the Mishkan. In the first exchange, Moshe tells Aharon that Hashem referred to his sons' deaths as being sanctified by those who were closest to Hashem(10:3). In response to this, “VaYidom Aharon”, Aharon remained silent. In the second exchange, Moshe instructs Aharon and his family not to observe the typical mourning rituals and to instead continue with the Mishkan service (10:6), Moshe discovers that the sons of Aharon disobeyed Moshe and decided not to eat one of the sin-offerings. Instead, they burned it on the altar. Moshe asks the Kohanim why they did not consume the Korban Chattat, and Aharon responds with a respectful counter-argument which Moshe accepts (10:19-20). My friend and colleague Rabbi Chaim Poupko suggested that in these two exchanges we find two different responses to suffering. In the first, Aharon remained silent; he can do nothing but accept the harsh Divine decree against his two sons. His silence is an expression of “Baruch Dayan HaEmet,” that Hashem is the true Judge, without complaining or seeking to understand. Aharon exemplified what Rav Soloveitchik refers to as “the man of fate”: a person who stands perplexed and confused before the greatest of mysteries; the mysteries of suffering and why bad things happen to good people. In the second exchange, Moshe embodied what the Rav describes as “the man of destiny.” When Moshe points out that the sons of Aharon neglected the proper procedure for the sin-offering Moshe is encouraging a different response to tragedy; not silence like the man of fate, but action and a sense of purpose. Rav Soloveotchik explains that this type of response is emblematic of “the man of destiny”: willing to confront the environment in which suffering is occurring and makes every effort to find a path through that suffering. The Rav used these two concepts of fate and destiny to understand the relationship between the Holocaust, which we commemorated on Yom Hashoah, and the establishment of the State of Israel, which we will celebrate Wednesday night on Yom Ha’Atzmaut. Responding theologically to the Holocaust is very difficult. Perhaps the best response is that of the man of fate. Instead of any explanation or answers, all we have is confusion, bewilderment, and silence. However, rising from the ashes of the Holocaust came the building of the State of Israel. Yom Ha’Atzamut and Medinat Yisrael represent a response by the man of destiny: to seek a path through which the suffering of the Holocaust has a purpose, even if it remains without explanation. As a survivor of the Holocaust, Rav Yehuda Amital (founding Rosh Yeshiva of Gush) was a living embodiment of these two attitudes. In 1985, he addressed his students at an event celebrating the 40th anniversary of his arrival to Israel. He spoke to them candidly about why he chose to celebrate his salvation from the Holocaust together with his Aliyah. Since he cannot answer the question of “why me?” he cannot celebrate his salvation from the Holocaust alone; he can celebrate it only in conjunction with his Aliyah to Israel. As Rav Amital said: “These doubts plague me until this day. Clearly, the answer lies in the hands of God, and because I do not know the answer, I do not have the boldness to designate a specific day as a holiday because I was saved. Thus I combine both focal points of my life, my salvation and my Aliyah, into one personal holiday. And yet... I still feel that heavy burden.” We can follow in Rav Amital’s footsteps by embracing both the man of fate and the man of destiny within each of us and meaningfully marking this transition from Yom Hashoah to Yom Ha’Atzmaut. 

Living Lives of Heroism

 On the Seventh Day of Pesach, we note the heroes that emerged on that very first Shevii shel Pesach on the shores of the Red Sea. Though he is not mentioned explicitly in the text, the most famous hero of today’s story is Nachshon ben Aminadav. We have all heard how Nachshon took the initiative to enter the waters when everyone else was reluctant to do so. As the waters reached his nose, God initiated the miracle that split the Sea. According to our Rabbis (Bamidbar Rabba 13:9) Nachshon’s name is derived from Nichshol, which means stormy waters.  Nachshon acted like a hero, because a hallmark of a hero is one who takes initiative when no one else is willing to; a hero acts in a way that is necessary even when it is not popular. The Heroic Imagination Project is a non-profit organization that focuses on teaching people to become heroes, or as they put it “To teach individuals the skills and awareness needed to make effective decisions in challenging situations.” The Project identifies 4 key elements of heroism:

1)      It's voluntary 2) It is done in the service of people or communities in need 3) It involves some type of risk, either physical, social, or in terms of quality of life 4) It is done without the need for recompense or material gain.

The actions of Nachshon at the sea encompass all of these elements.  Jewish tradition offers two more traits of a hero. Pirkei Avot teaches: Ayzehu Gibor Hakovesh et yitzro: A Hero is one that conquers his/her natural inclination. Instead of heroic action always being found in grandiose initiative, Jewish heroics can be found in holding ourselves back. As Rav Soloveitchik (whose yahrzeit was this past Wednesday) wrote in an essay (Catharsis pg 42): “The heroic person, according to our view, does not succumb to frenzy or excitement. Biblical heroism is not ecstatic but rather contemplative; not loud but hushed; not dramatic or spectacular but mute.”

If we want to do something but we know that it is bad for someone else or for our soul and we refrain from doing it - that’s not just righteous- that’s heroic. For instance, when someone says something to you that you construe as insulting or insensitive, and you “hold your tongue” – you have acted heroically.  Avot D’Rav Natan (23:1) offers a second characteristic of being a Jewish hero: Mi Sheoseh Soneh Ohavo: a hero who works to change enemies into friends. Conventional wisdom sees heroes as acting independently on behalf of others. The Jewish view is that a hero is one that broadens the boundaries of community. By turning enemies into friends, heroes value inclusivity, thereby increasing the size and quality of the community.

Each of us can and must be a hero. Sometimes we may have a Nachshon moment, when we are called upon to do something extraordinary or unpopular. If/ when that happens we hope that Hashem gives us the strength to do the right thing. But until that opportunity presents itself, let us remember the hallmarks of the everyday hero: Kovesh Et Yitzro, i.e. exhibiting self-control. And Mi She’oseh Soneh- Ohavo: concerning ourselves with others, even those on the periphery, and appreciating the strength of a diverse community. By doing so, let us realize that instead of undertaking heroic action sporadically, Shevii shel Pesach teaches us that we have opportunities on an ongoing basis to live our lives as heroes.

Keeping the Main Things The Main Things at the Seder

The Chidushei HaRim, founding Rebbe of Gerrer Chasidus, would share a tale told by his Rebbe, Reb Simcha Bunim of Peshischa that highlights one of the challenges at the Pesach Seder:

A wealthy man decided to buy a strong horse with a fine pedigree. He was very proud of his new acquisition, and he built a sturdy stable to house the horse and to ensure that no one stole it. After securing the horse he went to bed but could not fall asleep. Even though the stable was secure he was still worried that his fine horse would attract the attention of thieves. After a sleepless night, he decided to hire a watchman to protect his horse and provide him some peace of mind. The next day he found someone willing to work as his guard. That night the owner at first went to bed satisfied that his horse was now protected. But soon he had another worry that kept him awake: How would the guard stay awake the entire night? This worry was not allowing him to fall asleep, so the wealthy man got out of bed, bundled himself up, and went outside to check on the guard. When he arrived at the stable, the guard was indeed awake. When asked how he stayed awake all night, the guard explained that he pondered various questions and riddles that kept him up all night. He gave his boss an example: “When a nail is knocked into the wall, what happens to the sand that was in its place?” The wealthy man was impressed with the sophistication of the guard’s ponderings and went back to bed content that he had a reliable watchman. But this contentment was short-lived. A few hours later the wealthy man was again concerned that his watchman may have drifted to sleep. So he once again trudged outside to check in on the guard. Upon arriving at the stable he found the guard wide awake. This time, the guard explained that he was pondering: where does the sun go at night? This question satisfied the employer and he went back to bed and slept peacefully. But the next night the wealthy man was once again concerned about the guard’s reliability. He went outside and found the guard standing outside the stable, deep in contemplation. When asked this time, the guard said that he was wondering, “When someone eats a bagel, what happens to the hole inside?” Once again, the employer was impressed by his contemplation and satisfied by his vigilance so he went back to bed. On the third night, the wealthy man once again began to worry about the watchman and the safety of his prized horse. After unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep, he finally went outside to check on things. Near the stable he found his watchman standing and awake but lost in thought. The employer was excited to find out what his watchman was pondering this time. The watchman answered, “Tonight I am pondering the following: This is a sturdy stable with a locked door. There is a watchman standing guard outside. And the horse’s owner comes out almost nightly to check on things. Yet, somehow thieves succeeded in stealing the horse just the same. I am wondering how such a thing can happen.” The Rebbe of Peshischa told this story as a warning that, like the watchman, a person can be consumed by deep thought but totally overlook the point of his existence. There is so much to say and so much to learn in the Haggadah and at the Seder. Let us maximize our journey of exploration into Yetziat Mitzrayim. But let us make sure not to lose sight of the most important value. Here are a few that come to mind (not an exhaustive list):  Emunah. Gratitude. The Uniqueness of Am Yisrael (and why others hate us). The importance of family. Jewish tradition. Jewish continuity. Eretz Yisrael. Geulah. Let us make sure that these fundamental values find expression on these most exalted nights of Pesach.

A Letter to my Son on his Bar Mitzvah

 Dear Eitan,

As you know, I am fortunate to attend more brisses than the average Jew. Every once in a while I will attend a bris at which the father of the baby will note the baby's future Bar Mitzvah Parsha and will then connect that Parsha to the bris in some way. I wish I had thought of doing that for my sons’ bris. At the time I was just glad that I remembered the name that your mother and I had decided upon. At your bris I spoke about your name. As you know your middle name, Chaim, is named for your maternal Great-grandfather, Chaim Yeager. Zayde Chaim valued above all his family and his relationship with Hashem. A survivor of the Holocaust, Zayde Chaim loved nothing more than to spend time with his family, to go to shul daily, and to recite Tehillim. Your first name, Eitan, is found about a dozen times throughout Tanach. Eitan is the author of Tehillim Chapter 89: Maskil L’Eitan Ha’Ezrachi. Some say that this Eitan is the person mentioned in Divrei Hayamim as a Levi with the creativity and faith necessary to help compose poems utilized by King David. Others identify Eitan HaEzrachi as Avraham Avinu. For the word Eitan means strength, courage (strength of character) and is a name associated with all three of the Avot. For example, the month of Tishrei is referred to as Yerach Ha’eitanim, the month of the strong, because in it all three of the patriarchs were born. When you were born your siblings wanted us to name you Yitzchak to round out the Avot Weinstock, since we already had a Yaakov and an Avraham. I tried to convince them then that since all of the Avot are referred to as Eitan, it’s as if you were named Yitzchak. They didn’t buy it. As you know, Eitan, we gave you a name associated with strength because before you were born the doctors informed us that while every baby is special and unique, your anatomy is more unique than most. (For instance, in order to listen to your heart the doctor has to put her stethoscope under your armpit.) Even the doctors were unsure of how this uniqueness would impact function. We chose to name you Eitan as a prayer that you would grow up to be strong physically, emotionally, spiritually and religiously. As we celebrate your Bar Mitzvah this Shabbat we thank Hashem for answering our prayer. At your bris I also mentioned that the events surrounding your birth taught us the importance of optimism and gratitude, two themes that you often hear me speak about in public (yes, in addition to the theme of Achdut). At your bris, on Yom Hatazmut 2012, I noted that It was no coincidence that the first declaration made by Eitan HaEzrachi in Tehillim 89 is: חַֽסְדֵּ֣י ה עוֹלָ֣ם אָשִׁ֑ירָה לְדֹ֥ר וָדֹ֓ר אוֹדִ֖יעַ אֱמוּנָֽתְךָ֣ בְּפִֽי: “I will sing of Hashem’s kindness forever, I will make Your faithfulness known to every generation.”

If I had looked up your Bar Mitzvah Parsha before your bris I would have added the following to my remarks: “In 13 years, Eitan Chaim’s Bar Mitzvah will fall out, B’Ezrat Hashem, on Parshat Vayikra - and everyone here today is invited to attend. The first pasuk of that Parsha is: וַיִּקְרָ֖א אֶל־משֶׁ֑ה וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יָ-ה֙ אֵלָ֔יו מֵאֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵ֖ד לֵאמֹֽר: “And He called to Moses, and the Lord spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying..” This verse seems repetitive. If Hashem spoke to Moshe, then why must we be told that Hashem first called to Moshe? Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explained that the first word in this Parsha teaches us the concept of a calling. As Rabbi Sacks put it: “the choice of career or way of life (is) not just because you want to do it, or because it offers certain benefits, but because you feel summoned to it. You feel this is your meaning and mission in life, this is what you were placed on earth to do.” Rabbi Sacks suggested a definition for discovering our calling: “Where what we want to do meets what needs to be done, that is where God wants us to be.”

Eitan, since I missed the chance at your bris, I reference your Bar Mitzvah Parsha today and bless you that you continue to develop into a mensch and a Ben Torah and that you utilize all of the strengths that Hashem has blessed you with in order to find your calling and to answer that call.

Love,

Abba