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.