Torah is Everything- and That’s Half of the Story

In Parshat Terumah we learn about the Aron, the Ark, that housed the Luchot. The measurements of the Aron are all “broken” ie halves: “They shall make an ark of acacia wood, two and a half cubits its length, a cubit and a half its width, and a cubit and a half its height.”

The Baal HaTurim notes that the half measurements teach us the lesson that one who wants to become great in Torah learning must “break themselves.” Humility is not just a nice attribute to have alongside wisdom; it is a necessity (and prerequisite) for one aspiring to become a Talmid Chacham.

I believe that this idea of the Baal Haturim can also teach us something else. Talmud Torah is referred to as “Kneged Kulam” equal to all other Mitzvot. And yet Torah study cannot, and must not, exist within a vacuum. Ideally, Torah is learned with the intent of teaching those lessons to others; or at the very least of applying those lessons in our own lives. That is why there are so many philosophies that incorporate Torah alongside another value: Torah V’Avodah, Torah U’Maddah, Torah im Derech Eretz. This is not just a 19^th or 20^th century phenomenon; the Rabbis in Pirkei Avot express a similar sentiment in many Mishnayot:

1:2: The world stands on three things: Torah, prayer and kindness”

2:2: Beautiful is the study of Torah with the way of the world, for the toil of them both causes sin to be forgotten. Ultimately, all Torah study that is not accompanied with work is destined to cease and to cause sin.

3:10 One whose deeds exceed his wisdom, his wisdom endures. But one whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, his wisdom does not endure.

There was never an ideal in Jewish tradition of studying Torah in a vacuum. Just like the Aron by itself is measured in half’s, Torah study must be combined with other values and endeavors in order to optimize its effect on ourselves and our environment.

Some of the vessels in the Mishkan had poles that were fitted through rings utilized for carrying them as the Mishkan was moved from place to place. The poles attached to the Aron were unique in two ways, and each difference can teach us a lesson about the centrality of Torah.

One unique feature of the Aron’s poles was that they were never allowed to be removed. Even when the Aron was set down in the rebuilt Mishkan, the poles for the Aron had to stay. The lesson is that we must be ready and able to take Torah values and Torah lessons with us, even with little or no notice.

The second unique feature was that according to the Chumash, the poles were placed onto the Aron even before the Luchot were placed inside. I believe the lesson here is that there is value to learning about our surroundings, the world around us , the society in which we live. But before we go anywhere and before we do anything, we must firmly place the Luchot into the equation.

There is much in the world that we should enjoy and experience. But we must do so while always wearing our “Torah lenses”, and we take the Aron with us wherever we go.

 

The Ganav and the Gazlan

 For centuries, legal systems have distinguished between larceny and robbery. Larceny is “the taking away of the personal goods of another.” Robbery is considered a “compound larceny.” Robbery means taking something directly from its owner or in the owner’s presence. Robbery is committed by means of violence or threat of violence. Larceny is merely a crime against property. Robbery, in contrast is also crime against a person. It is not surprising that robbery usually carries a more severe punishment than larceny in American law.                

Jewish law has a different perspective. According to Halacha, the larcenist (ganav) must pay back what s/he stole and also pay the victim an additional fine equal to the value of what was stolen.  The punishment for robbery, gezeila, is not specified in the Torah. The Talmud explains that there is no fine in a case of gezeila. The robber must return what s/he actually stole, but there is no additional monetary penalty.

Yet in the times of the Talmud the students of Rabbi Yochanan were aware that the Halacha is counter-intuitive. When they asked their teacher why the ganav pays more than the gazlan, he replied:

“Zeh Hishveh Kevod Eved LiK’vod Kono, V’zeh Lo Hishveh Kevod Eved L’Kevod Kono.

The robber equates the honor due to man with the honor due to God, while the larcenist does not.

Rav Hirsch explains the Gemara in Baba Kamma as saying that the Ganav, the larcenist, has committed a double sin: against the property of his fellow human being- and against society and the social contract that keeps civilization civilized. In the (translated) words of Rav Hirsch:

 “Robbery is a simple crime against the individual whose rights of possession have been violated.  Theft is a double crime, a crime against the individual rights of possession, and a crime against the general idea of respect for right of property, under the protection of which the owner had left his property.  This idea forms the basic principle on which the whole of civilized communal life rests…. The thief accordingly has to pay the value of the theft, as restitution to the owner; and then again an equal sum for his contempt of the principle of general honesty against which he has offended.           

The double payment mandated from the Ganav teaches us that our actions have an influence and impact on the people around us- for better or for worse.                           

We are impacted by what is happening around us and by the behaviors that we witness, even if no one is trying to actively teach us. But the lesson of the Ganav is more personal: Each of us must appreciate just how impactful our actions really are. We may not realize it, we may not want it to be true, but the Torah says that we must accept the fact that each of us has incredible power to influence those around us. The Ganav’s actions erode the foundations of society, and for that he is doubly punished.                         

Most people are willing to live with the consequences when they make a poor decision. Most people have no intention of impacting society through their actions, nor do they want to. But the lesson in Parshat Mishpatim of the Ganav is that we all have that power, and we can’t opt out of the repercussions of our actions.

The Ganav impacts society in a deleterious / negative way. Let us resolve to use this tremendous power invested in each of us to influence the world in a positive fashion.

 

How We Can Learn From Everyone

 

At the beginning of Parshat Yotro we learn the names of Moshe’s two sons and their meanings:

אֵ֖ת שְׁנֵ֣י בָנֶ֑יהָ אֲשֶׁ֨ר שֵׁ֤ם הָֽאֶחָד֙ גֵּֽרְשֹׁ֔ם כִּ֣י אָמַ֔ר גֵּ֣ר הָיִ֔יתִי בְּאֶ֖רֶץ נָכְרִיָּֽה:

וְשֵׁ֥ם הָֽאֶחָ֖ד אֱלִיעֶ֑זֶר כִּֽי־אֱ-לֹהֵ֤י אָבִי֙ בְּעֶזְרִ֔י וַיַּצִּלֵ֖נִי מֵחֶ֥רֶב פַּרְעֹֽה:

One of whom was named Gershom, because he said, "I was a stranger in a foreign land,"

And one who was named Eliezer, because "The God of my father came to my aid and rescued me from Pharaoh's sword."

The words “he said” when it comes to Gershom’s name seem superfluous, and they are not found when the Torah explains Eliezer’s name. This led the Baal HaTurim to suggest that “he said” refers not to Moshe, but to Yitro. The Midrash in Shemot tells a story that when Moshe went to Midyan he asked permission from Yitro to marry Tziporah. Yitro gave his permission with the condition that Moshe’s firstborn child be trained to become a priest of idolatry; to grow up steeped in pagan studies and pagan culture. Moshe had no choice but to agree to this condition because Yitro reminded Moshe of his “outside” status in Midyan. Based on this Midrash the Baal HaTurim suggests that it was Yitro who said/ reminded Moshe that he was a stranger in a strange land. And that’s why Moshe’s first born son, Gershom, would have to be committed to a life of idolatry.

 

While there are a number of questions to ask on this Midrash, Ra Chaim Shmulevitz focuses on the fact that Tziporah married Moshe after Yitro had already “found the God of the Jewish People” and rejected all other forms of worship. If that is the case, then why would Yitro want his grandson raised to worship idolatry? Rav Shmulevitz suggested that Yitro felt that every step along his journey from idolatry to Hashem was worthwhile and made him into the person that he became. He felt that the best way to arrive at the truth is through a journey of discovery. Yitro wanted his grandson to arrive at Hashem and Torah in the same manner: through a process of exposure, discovery, rejecting other deities and ultimately embracing Hashem.

 

While this had to be Yitro’s journey it is not the best or only journey for a Jew. One need not experience “what’s out there” before embracing what has been part of his/her home all along. Parents have a right and responsibility to teach their children about the mistakes that they have made so that children can learn from their parents’ mistakes instead of making them again unnecessarily. While proper modeling is critical, it is also legitimate to tell people (especially our children) “Learn from my mistakes. Do as I say (now, and not as I did (then)”.

 

Ben Zoma teaches in Pirkei Avot (4:1) “Who is wise? One who learns from everyone.” We learn from some people’ good deeds and successes and we seek to emulate those in our own lives. But to be really wise we must also be willing to learn from cautionary tales. We must be willing to learn from others’ mistakes, and we should not feel the need to make those mistakes for ourselves. Yitro was an amazing figure. He learned from his mistakes and came to embrace Hashem. We should all be like Yitro. But instead of making those same mistakes, we should learn from Yitro and try to avoid them.

 

There are no Guarantees in Life: For Worse or for Better

In the first pasuk of Parshat Beshalach we read: “It came to pass when Pharaoh let the people go, that God did not lead them [by] way of the land of the Philistines for it was near, because God said, Lest the people reconsider when they see war and return to Egypt.” Rabbi Moshe Feinstein noted that the word “lest” in this pasuk implies that Hashem was not sure whether the people would have returned to Egypt had they left via the land of the Philistines (ie “maybe yes- maybe no”). Rabbi Feinstein says that from here we learn that Divine knowledge does not in any way take away from human free will. The paradox of an All knowing God and human free will has long been debated and discussed. While there are a number of explanations for the exact mechanics for how this works, everyone agrees that both maxims are true and exist within our experience.

Rabbi Feinstein takes this idea further and suggests that if the Torah portrays God as being “unsure” of the outcome, then it is teaching us that there is nothing in life that we can take for granted. This has many applications, but Rabbi Feinstein focuses on the relevance of this lesson as it applies to raising children. For instance, a teacher should never give up on a student. No matter how difficult a student has been in the past, we never know what transformation might occur tomorrow. Rabbi Feinstein quotes the Talmud (Sanhedrin 107b) which criticizes Rabbi Yehushua ben Perachya for giving up on his student - Jesus. The Talmud does not have a lot of nice things to say about Jesus. Yet the Talmud suggests that even the trajectory of Jesus’ life was not a foregone conclusion.

Just like we should not “write off” challenging students, so too we must not take for granted that good kids will grow up OK. We can’t take anything for granted, and raising children requires constant attention. Parenting requires effort. Parents cannot rely on Hashem alone. Rabbi Feinstein suggests that parents should pray that Hashem remove the challenges and pitfalls that can arise while raising children, and that a parent’s efforts are met with success.

By describing God as unsure in the first pasuk of Beshalach, the Torah teaches us the important lesson that there are no guarantees in life. On the one hand, this lesson obligates us to constantly worry about raising our children as even if our kids are “good” today there are no guarantees about what tomorrow may bring. On the other hand this lesson is a source of hope and optimism because it teaches us that even if a situation has been challenging until this point, there are no guarantees that the situation will continue to be difficult. With constant attention and ongoing prayers, even a difficult situation can be turned around for the better. 

Neutrality is for the dogs

When caught in the middle of a heated argument between people you know, your first instinct might be to stay out of it. But a paper published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology suggests that declaring neutrality comes with consequences. In three studies, participants were surveyed about hypothetical barroom scenarios: They were locked in a verbal dispute with someone else, and a close friend either backed them up or stayed out of it. Remaining neutral wasn't considered a problem if the friend who was stuck in the crossfire was said to be equally close to both people who were arguing. But if the friend was closer to one participant than to the other disputant, then a decision not to get involved was typically treated as a betrayal. Participants rated neutrality in that case nearly as offensive as taking the other person's side.

Stepping back from a friend's fight may be perceived as a dereliction of duty and can send a worrying message, according to Alex Shaw, a psychologist at the University of Chicago and one of the paper's authors. "If I don't take a close friend's side over an acquaintance, then to some extent, the friend is getting a signal that I think of them the way I think of an acquaintance," he says. If you must remain neutral, Shaw proposes hearing out both sides, explaining your stance, and playing the part of mediator. All are ways to communicate that you still have your friend's back.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski retells a story that in Brisk a bitter feud broke out between two groups of Jews. The Beis Halevi, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, appealed to an influential member of the community to intervene and help bring about peace. The man declined. When the Beis Halevi reminded the man how big a mitzvah it is to promote peace, the man responded that he felt that remaining neutral was an even bigger mitzvah. Upon hearing the man extol the virtues of neutrality, the Beis Halevi shared the following Torah thought: In Parshat Bo, The Torah describes the contrast that will exist during the tenth plague. Egyptian firstborn will die causing a great cry among the Egyptians, however Bnei Yisrael will experience none of this to the degree that (11:7) “no dog shall whet its tongue”. Why does the Torah tell us this detail regarding the dogs?

The Beis Halevi explained based on a statement of the Talmud in Baba Kamma 60b: “When the Angel of Death enters a community- the dogs cry. When Eliyahu Hanavi enters a community- the dogs are playful.” On the night of the tenth plague the dogs had a problem. Since it was the night of the Jews’ redemption Eliyahu Hanavi, the harbinger of redemption, was present. But that night the firstborn were killed, so the Angel of Death must have also been present. Since the dogs didn’t know whether to be playful or to cry, they chose to remain neutral and not do anything. 

The Beis Halevi concluded that when there is an opportunity to intervene and bring about peace, remaining neutral is an option for dogs but not for intelligent human beings. While remaining neutral may at times be the easy thing to do, we should always remember the value of promoting peace and the importance of taking initiative. We should not be afraid nor reluctant to interject ourselves into a situation when we have something positive to contribute.

You Don’t Need to Walk in Anyone’s Shoes to Show Empathy

Hillel taught in Pirkei Avot (2:4) “Do not judge your fellow man until you have reached his place.” This is similar to the expression, “Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.” We need to train ourselves to be less judgmental. From our perspective a person may be acting incorrectly or making a big mistake. However before we judge that person let us remember that that person is coming from a different place and has different experiences and different perspectives. We should be slower to judge others and quicker to try and understand them. And even when we can’t understand them we should be slow to judge and quick to help in whatever ways that we can.

While we may not be able to “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes” that does not mean that we cannot empathize with people who are experiencing challenges with which we do not have personal experience or familiarity. The basis of empathy is that we should try to feel the pain of others, even if the reality is that that pain is foreign and unfamiliar to us. A therapist need have experienced every trauma in order to provide treatment to a person who is struggling with trauma. A person can pay a shiva or Bikur Cholim visit even if they have never been on the receiving end of such a chesed. This was one of Pharaoh’s mistakes. We have a tradition that the tribe of Levi was never enslaved. Some credit Yosef with this break. During the years of famine Yosef did not take over the land of the Egyptian priests. Pharaoh continued that tradition by not enslaving the tribe of Levi, who functioned in a priestly role. 

However Rabbi Yonasan Eibeschutz suggested that Pharoah had much more sinister motives. Through his sorcerers he learned that the future redeemer of Israel was destined to come from the tribe of Levi. Pharaoh believed that only a person who was subjected to slavery would have the sensitivity, empathy and motivation to lead the nation out of slavery. Pharaoh miscalculated because he did not factor in the power of empathy, often referred to in Jewish texts as “Nosei B’Ol Im Chaveiro” (the ability to share in my friend’s burden). 

Although Moshe was never enslaved, the Torah tells us that (2:11) “he went out to his brothers and perceived their burdens”. Moshe did not have to be enslaved in order to feel empathy for the Jewish slaves. The Shelah points out that Levi gave his children names that reference the slavery, even though they themselves were not enslaved. His children have names such as Gershom (“I am a stranger in a strange land”) and Merari (from the word mar, bitterness of slavery). By naming his children names that reference the slavery, Levi took concrete steps to ensure that he and his descendants would always feel and demonstrate empathy towards their fellow Jews. In the merit of this empathy Moshe became leader and the Jewish People were redeemed.  

Names Can Be Descriptive and Prescriptive

 

This week we begin reading the second book of the Chumash. Our Rabbis refer to it as Sefer Hageulah, The Book of Redemption. This name aptly describes the main topics and themes contained within: the redemption from Egyptian slavery, which is only fully realized with the construction of the Tabernacle at the end of the book.

However most of us are more familiar with the second book of the Chumash as Sefer Shemot, literally “The Book of Names”.  Besides being one of the first words of the first Parsha in the book, are there any further lessons we can derive from the name “Shemot”?

The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba) writes that one of the merits that the Jewish People accumulated throughout their years of slavery is the fact that they never changed their names. They kept their Jewish names as a way of reminding themselves that they were not part of the majority, dominant culture of Egypt.  Their Jewish names reinforced the idea that the Jewish People came from a different culture and from ancestors that had a unique relationship with G-d. Names have the power to remind us of who we are and from where we come. It is no accident that there is a widespread Jewish custom to name babies after ancestors, whether deceased or still living.

 But names have a future oriented role as well. In Parshat Lech Lecha, Hashem changed Avram’s and Sarai’s names. Rashi (on 15:5) introduces the concept of “Shem Gorem”: that a person’s name can have an impact on their destiny. Avram and Sarai would never have children. But with new names Hashem informs Avraham and Sarah that they are now ready to be parents. Names can identify a person with a unique mission and destiny.

This future oriented aspect of names needs to be reinforced. A person or institution can attain a “name”, or reputation in one of two ways: based on past performance or as a hope and challenge for future achievement. Too often we hastily attach negative names to people or institutions based on past events. For example, a student that has performed poorly in the past may improve dramatically if given positive reinforcement and labeled in a good way (ie given a new name). The same is true of adults and institutions. As we begin the book of Shemot, let us realize that names not only connect us to our past, but they can help shape our future