Nosh a Hamantasch!

 Tosfot in Brachot (35a) write that there was a baked good eaten on Purim called “nilash” whose bracha was either Mezonot or Hamotzi. The Bach (16^th century) writes that baked items such as Nilash should only be eaten in the context of a bread meal to avoid the brachah question. However, the Bach writes that “Purim kreplach”, a sweet pastry filled with nuts, is definitely Mezonot. The Bach’s “Purim kreplach” are similar to what we call hamantaschen. The Taz (17^th century) describes hamantaschen as sweet pastries stuffed with seeds. The classic hamantasch was always filled with poppy seeds. Indeed, the very word “haman” can either refer to the wicked Haman or poppy seeds (mohn), and the Yiddish word “tash” means pocket. Thus, “hamantaschen” means “poppy-seed-filled pockets.” The bracha on the Taz’s hamantasch was definitely Mezonot. The Mishna Berurah (20^th century) suggests that hamantaschen must have evolved over time. In the Taz’s time they were a dessert food, while 200 years later, some were eating hamantaschen as the staple of a meal and its bracha was Hamotzi. There are a number of suggestions offered as to the relationship between hamantaschen and Purim. One suggestion is based on a Midrash that states that on the night that Achashverosh couldn’t sleep in Shushan, the 3 Avot also couldn’t sleep in Mearat Hamachpela in Chevron. The midrash is teaching us that the Avot are disturbed when the Jewish People are in potential or actual danger. In the merit of the Avot, Hama’s strength was weakened. Hamantasch is a contraction of the Hebrew words “Haman Tash” ie Haman was weakened. In Hebrew hamantaschen are called “Aznei Haman”, ie Haman’s ears. Some suggest that this alludes to the fact that while all other nations heard about the Jews’ exodus from Egypt and were impressed and afraid, Amalek (ancestor of Haman) were not impacted by what they heard, and they attacked Bnei Yisrael. Just as there is a custom to eat hamantaschen on Purim, there is also a custom to eat meat filled kreplach on Hoshana Rabbah and Erev Yom Kippur. Some have a custom to also eat kreplach on Purim. By both foods, the filling is hidden by the dough. Purim, Hoshana Rabbah and Erev Yom Kippur are considered auspicious days even though there are no restrictions on work on those days. It ends up that these three days are like kreplach and hamantaschen in that their goodness is hidden. On a related note, some suggest that we eat hamantaschen because, like the filling, the miracle of Purim is hidden. One can explain the events of the Purim story as purely coincidence and unfolding in a natural and normal fashion, without any Divine Intervention. In reality, Purim commemorates a major miracle and Hashem was behind the scenes the entire time. Sometimes we must get beyond the dough in our life to appreciate all of the good stuff that Hashem bestows upon us. Hamantaschen is a great example of food, tradition, history, Jewish law, and Jewish values all coming together in one delicious bite.

Enduring Lesson of the Upright Acacia

 One of the building materials of the Mishkan mentioned in Parshat Terumah is atzei shitim, acacia wood. Midrash Tanchuma explains that when Yaakov and his family moved to Egypt, he planted acacia trees. He told his family that one day in the future, after the Exodus from Egypt, the Jewish people would be commanded to build a Tabernacle that would require acacia wood. At that time they should use these trees. When Hashem commanded Moshe to build the Mishkan using acacia wood, God also told him that he should use the trees planted by Yaakov. This Midrash teaches us a number of important lessons. One lesson is the importance of “planting seeds” for the future. Had Yaakov not planted trees centuries earlier, the Jewish People would have had a more difficult time sourcing wood for the Mishkan. The Midrash takes this idea even further by explaining that these trees had even greater Yichus, pedigree. Yaakov got the seeds from trees planted by Avraham Avinu in Beer Sheva. The pasuk actually refers to the wood as (26:15) “Atzei Shittim Omdim” which literally means “upright acacia wood”. What does this mean and what is it meant to teach us? Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky explained this term by way of the Talmud in Sukkah (45b) in which Hashem commanded Moshe to utilize wood in the construction of the Mishkan that would last forever, ie it would never warp or rot. It would stand up to the test of time and exist forever. Moshe wondered how this was possible, when the status of the Mishkan depended not on anything Moshe did but on the worthiness of Bnei Yisrael. If the Jews were worthy, then the Mishkan would exist forever, but if they sinned then the Mishkan would be destroyed. The answer lies in the Yichus, the origins, of this wood. This wood traces itself back to the trees of Yaakov and Avraham Avinu. Any items and efforts embarked upon for a holy and noble purpose are guaranteed to last forever. This powerful idea helps to explain a passage in the Talmud (Baba Metzia 85b): Rabbi Chiya bragged that he ensures the perpetuity of Torah and Jewish life by creating Torah scrolls from scratch and teaching both the Written and Oral Torahs to students who then teach it to other students. “I go and sow flax seeds and twine nets with the flax, and then I hunt deer and feed their meat to orphans. Next I prepare parchment from their hides and I write the five books of the Torah on them. I go to a city and teach five children the five books, one book per child, and I teach six other children the six orders of the Mishna, and I say to them: Until I return and come here, read each other the Torah and teach each other the Mishna. This is how I act to ensure that the Torah will not be forgotten by the Jewish people.”  The question remains: How can Rabbi Chiya be 100% sure that his students, and their students after, will not become distanced from Torah? The answer is that while people might forget what they were taught, they will never forget what was done for them, nor how they were made to feel. Rabbi Chiya’s Torah would be remembered because it was accompanied by much care and effort. He didn’t merely teach his students; he made nets that were used to catch deer in order to use their hides to make scrolls of Torah. While he was at it, he donated the kosher deer meat to those less fortunate. The lesson of the upright acacia wood is that while we may forget lesson taught to us through words, we will never forget lessons taught to us through actions. 

Postscript to Matan Torah

 While Matan Torah is depicted in Parshat Yitro, the culmination of the Sinai experience is described in Parshat Mishpatim. As I process the news coming from Israel on Thursday, there are few aspects of the Postscript to Sinai that seem particularly poignant at this moment. First, it is only now in Mishpatim that we read how Bnai Yisrael responded to the Torah with “Naaseh V’Nishma”. The Midrash describes how impressed Hashem was with this response, so much so that He granted each Jew with “two crowns”, one for each of these commitments. The theology behind the commitment of “we will do and we will listen” is that as human beings we cannot possibly fully understand God’s laws. While we are encouraged to seek meaning and reasons behind the mitzvot, on a basic level we must commit to doing even if we do not necessarily understand all of the time. We call the reasons behind mitzvot “Ta’amim” which literally means taste or flavor. To use a food analogy Torah and Mitzvot are fundamentally nourishing to our souls. Not everything that’s good for us necessarily tastes good. And everyone has different senses of taste. Furthermore our sense of taste can differ over the course of our lifetime due to both external and internal factors, such as our health and our environment. While we should always seek to enjoy Jewish learning and Jewish learning, the foundation of our Jewish identity must be a commitment to Hashem in good times and less good times, when we understand what is happening and even when we don’t. “Naaseh V’Nishma” is similarly important for us to tap into when we are confronted with incomprehensible evil and sadness, some of the feelings many of us feel as the remains of innocent Israeli hostages were returned from Gaza after more than 500 days of captivity. We must mourn the losses, and we must remind the world that Hamas is barbaric and pure evil and must be totally annihilated. As we do that we also double down on the unbreakable relationship we have with Hashem and our unbreakable Jewish identity and pride in the Jewish People and the Jewish State of Israel. Second, between the depiction of Matan Torah in Yitro and the Postscript in Mishpatim, the Torah interrupts with dozens of commandments related to civil law and the proper functioning of society. I believe that this shift is meant to highlight to us the importance of Achdut. The experience of receiving the Torah was very lofty and spiritual. It was a very personal experience. While learning Torah can replicate that ethereal experience (and we should daily find ways to tap into that feeling), Living Torah finds expression in the messiness of dealing with real people, or navigating power imbalances, in how we treat our family – and our enemies. It finds expression in how we value compassion and justice and fairness, and in how we abhor cruelty and vanquish evil. While the bookends of Matan Torah are about our personal relationship with Hashem, the book itself is focused on our relationship with each other. The prerequisite for Matan Torah was Achdut, and the anticipated outcome of Matan Torah is Achdut. The first and most essential response to challenging times and to aspirations for a better future must also be Achdut 

Human Lessons of Divine Actions

 The Torah introduces the 10 Commandments in Parshat Yitro with the words (20:1): “וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר אֱ-לֹהִ֔ים אֵ֛ת "כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה לֵאמֹֽר׃   “God spoke all these words, saying.” Rashi quotes the Midrash that explains that Hashem first said all 10 Commandments in one utterance, and afterwards each commandment was articulated and commanded separately: “[This] teaches [us] that the Holy One, blessed be He, said the Ten Commandments in one utterance, something that is impossible for a human being to say [in a similar way]. If so, why does the Torah say again, “I am [the Lord, your God (verse 2)]” and “You shall have no…” (verse 3)? Because He later explained each statement [of the Ten Commandments] individually.” Why did Hashem utter all 10 Commandments at once if no human could understand that type of Divine expression? Rav Soloveitchik offered an explanation that suggests that the Midrash here is teaching us something about the nature of humans, more so than teaching us the nature of Hashem. This is an approach that Rav Soloveitchik utilized to explain another enigmatic Midrash earlier in the Torah. Midrash Rabba at the beginning of Bereishit claims that Hashem created and destroyed worlds before creating and settling in our universe. This is a difficult teaching to understand. We believe that God is perfect and He does not make mistakes. Why would the Midrash suggest that God needed a few tries before settling on our creation? There Rav Soloveitchik likewise explained that the Midrash is teaching us something about the human condition and not the nature of the Divine. The Midrash wants us to be comfortable with the notion of human failure and having to restart and try multiple times in order to succeed. If Hashem could scrap his initial efforts, regroup and try again, then certainly we can do so. When we fail and persevere we should not view that as regrettable but rather as an opportunity for us to emulate Hashem. Back to the 10 Commandments, Rav Soloveitchik notes that the first five commandments refer to Mitzvot Bein Adam LaMakom; they focus on our relationship with, and obligations towards, Hashem. (Yes, honoring our parents is fundamentally an expression of our relationship with God, and not with our fellow man.) Everyone understands that Mitzvot bein Adam L’Chaveiro are of Divine origin. However the second five commandments relate to interpersonal obligations, Mitzvot Bein Adam L’Chaveiro. At first glance these “rational” commandments may not seem to the modern reader to necessarily be of Divine origin. Even a modern atheist could agree to the value in not murdering, not stealing, not committing adultery, not lying, and not coveting. We think we understand these commandments outside of the framework of Torah and Kabalat Ol Malchut Shamayim (accepting the yoke of Heaven). The final five commandments appear to be rational attempts by any society to regulate and protect itself. After all, what kind of modern society would sanction murder? Upon closer examination we will note that there is much debate today even regarding murder. Abortion is one example, where some view it as murder while others view it as an elective medical procedure. (Judaism has a more nuanced [perspective, one that does not fit neatly into the “pro-life” and “pro-choice” camps in modern America.) Physician assistance suicide would be another example of an action that ends a person’s life yet has been legalized in some places. What about stand your ground laws? If someone trespasses into your home does that give you the right to confront the intruder with lethal force, or would that be murder? Our definitions of murder, theft, etc. are based on the Torah and not popular opinion. That is why, explained the Rav, why Hashem first spoke all of the 10 Commandments in one breath: to impress upon us that our observance of them all is based on their Divine origins. All of the mitzvoth are equally immutable. While popular norms may change and conventional wisdom may shift, our commitment to the binding nature of the 10 Commandments remains steadfast.  

Atzmot Yosef

In Parshat Beshalach we read how Moshe took Atzmot Yosef, the bones of Joseph, with him as Bnei Yisrael left Egypt. In Parshat Vayechi, Yosef himself uses that expression: “Take my Atzmot with you.” Why refer to Yosef’s remains as Atzmot?

The word Atzmot is related to the word Etzem, which means something that is essential, a defining quality. Yosef possessed essential qualities that made him a Tzaddik. These qualities were necessary for Bnei Yisrael to learn from and to take with them from Egypt and carry with them throughout their journeys. What is the Etzem of Yosef? Let me suggest 3 lessons we can learn from Yosef: First, Yosef is a proud Jew. He constantly sees God in his life, even though God never spoke to him directly. He experienced terrible trauma and challenges, yet views them as all part of God’s plan. Wherever he is he doesn’t spend time asking “why me?” Instead he asks “what now? What am I supposed to be doing under these circumstances?” In Potiphar’s house his task was to be a proud Ivri. In jail, his task was to interpret dreams for others. In Pharaoh’s court, it was to ease his family’s transition down to Egypt. People might have said Yosef was an object controlled by others- his brothers his masters, fate. Yet Yosef always found ways to express his freedom even under constraints. Even when we have very little control over what’s happening in our lives or in the world, there is always some degree of choice for us to make, even if it is the choice of how to react. Second, Yosef maintains an optimistic attitude. Yosef was way ahead of the curve when he tells his brothers Pakod Yifkod, that in the future Hashem will remember them and take them out of Egypt. Through this message Yosef provided hope and reassurance at a moment in time that the Jews didn’t even realize that they would need it. Yosef was a dreamer. Dreamers look at the world through aspirational eyes, not limited by what is but always thinking about what can be. In Parshat Vayechi (45:5) Yosef tells his frightened and contrite brothers “Do not be sad”. This was not merely advice directed at his brothers in that moment. Rather this is a mantra, a way of to view life that Yosef is sharing with Bnei Yisrael for all time. Do not be sad due to the ups and downs of life. Being sad saps our energy and does not allow us to focus on the opportunities that exist within each challenge. Yosef is not just forgiving his brothers, he’s providing them with the secret to resilience. Redirect energy you planned on using to worry and bemoan your fate, and channel it towards activities that are impactful and meaningful. Lastly, Yosef is a symbol of Jewish continuity. His personal story is one of survival against the odds. And Chazal expand on this theme. The Midrash describes in great detail how Moshe retrieved Yosef’s bones. According to one opinion his casket was sunk in the Nile River. According to one opinion Moshe pleaded with Yosef for his casket to float to the top. According to a second opinion Moshe threatened Yosef that if he didn’t float up, the Jews would leave Egypt without him. Taken together This Midrashic episode can teach us intergenerational interdependence. Younger generations need the earlier ones to ensure tradition. And the older generations need the younger ones to ensure the Jewish future. During his time in Egypt Yosef was both influenced by the image of his father that prevented him from sin, and took pride in knowing his great-grandchildren were living as Jews.

We know of many righteous men and women throughout Tanach and the Talmud. But only Yosef is honored with the attribution of Hatzaddik, The Righteous One. This unique title is a testament to the three qualities that he possessed: his Jewish pride and faith in Hashem, his optimism, and his appreciation for Jewish tradition and Jewish continuity. By emulating these traits of Yosef we share in the merit of taking Atzmot Yosef with us on our life journeys.

Hashem’s Tefillin

In Parshat Bo we are introduced to the mitzvah of tefillin. The Talmud (Brachot 6) teaches that Hashem wears tefilljn. The third of the 13 Principles of Faith enumerated by Maimonides is “I believe with full faith that the Creator does not have a body. Physical concepts do not apply to Him. There is nothing that resembles Him.” If Hashem doesn’t have a body, then what do the rabbis mean when they say that Hashem wears tefillin? Rav Kook explained that to understand this concept we must first explore the significance of the tefillin that humans wear. Throughout our lives we utilize our physical and intellectual abilities in order for us and our loved ones to survive and to thrive. On the most simple human level we strive to ensure the basics of life such as food and shelter. We hope to be able to provide additional opportunities and luxuries as well. We also may work hard to reach our goals and to achieve a sense of accomplishment. However, Rav Kook notes, life is not meant to be utilized exclusively to satisfy our material needs or to satisfy our ego. We are also supposed to utilize our abilities to live lives of morality and spirituality. We are meant to be seekers in pursuit of moral and spiritual growth. We are not only meant to survive in this world; we are also meant to be Avdei Hashem, servants of God. As an example, the Jewish perspective mandates that we utilize our physical and intellectual capacities to ensure that our fellow Jews have what they need as well. It emerges that our intellectual and physical abilities are supposed to be utilized on two planes: a baseline plane to address our material needs and an elevated utilization in pursuit of spiritual growth. Tefillin remind us of this second plane. Tefillin are worn on the arm and on the head to remind us that our physical and intellectual abilities can and must be used for spiritual purposes as well. Rav Kook goes on to explain that these two planes exist within the universe as well, and not just within each person. The universe operates based on las of nature. From a physical perspective the world runs based on biology, chemistry and physics. But there is also a higher dimension of existence, one that seeks to uplift humanity to a higher moral state. The imagery of God wearing tefllin, according to Rav Kook, is a metaphor for the universe’s spiritual yearnings. It portrays a universe that is guided by an inner drive for holiness and spiritual advance. The Talmud goes on to explain that just as our tefillin contain parchments upon which are written pesukim, so too Hashem’s tefillin contain verses that speak of the Jewish people and their unique mission, such as “Who is like Your people Israel, a unique nation in the world?” Since the metaphor of Hashem’s tefillin teaches us of the spiritual potential for growth that exists within the universe. Hashem’s tefillin contain pesukim about the uniqueness of the Jewish People because the vehicle by which the universe can reach an elevated moral status is through Am Yisrael. Our status as the Chosen People obligates us to be a Light onto The nations and model what it means to live lives of meaning and of spiritual fulfillment. 

Patience is a Virtue – and a Prerequisite for Redemption

The first five parshiyot of Sefer Shemot recount Am Yisrael’s beginnings as a nation, Yetziat Mitzrayim and Matan Torah. Of these first five parshiyot, we find stories of historical significance in four of them. In Shemot we are introduced to Am Yisrael and to Moshe Rabbeinu. In Bo we read about the Exodus from Egypt. In Beshalach we read about the splitting of the sea. Yitro recounts Matan Torah. The “odd parsha out” is Vaeira. There is no specific significant event in our parsha; just a number of events that will ultimately lead to the Exodus. Granted, some of those events are miraculous; but none of them are of singular significance like we find in the other four parshiyot. Rav Aharaon Lichtenstein suggested that the lesson of Parshat Vaeira lies precisely in the fact that there is no specific achievement contained within. We learn about the skills and attitudes that both Moshe and the people needed to develop and cultivate in order to be worthy of redemption. At the beginning of Vaeira we learn that Moshe’s message of redemption to Am Yisrael fell on deaf ears “לֹ֤א שָֽׁמְעוּ֙ אֶל־משֶׁ֔ה מִקֹּ֣צֶר ר֔וּחַ וּמֵֽעֲבֹדָ֖ה קָשָֽׁה” The people were unable to hear Moshe’s message of hope due to “kotzer ruach” and “avoda kasha”.  Different interpretations have been offered for the expressions "kotzer ruach" and "avoda kasha" and the connection between them. Rashbam makes an important comment: “But they did not listen to Moshe' – at this stage, even though they originally had faith, as it is written, 'And the people believed' (5:31), for they had thought that they would have rest from their hard labor, but now it had only become worse for them." The people ultimately rejected Moshe’s message because they quickly became disillusioned by the fact that they did not experience an immediate improvement in their condition. They were certainly inspired by the appearance of Moshe and his message of hope; he even used the code words for redemption of “Pakod Yifkod”. But then things got worse for the people before they got any better. As Rav Lichtenstein put it: “The nation, lacking any historical perspective, was impatient. The people did not understand that redemption is a long, slow process; they expected it to happen all at once. Since there was no visible progress, they were disappointed, and started to complain. This is the meaning of kotzer ruach.” It should not be surprising that Chazal attribute impatience to Moshe as well. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 111a) teaches how Hashem was frustrated with Moshe’s questioning, compared to the faith exhibited by the patriarchs: “The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Moshe: Alas for those who are gone, the likes of whom will not be seen again! For I appeared several times to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov with the Name 'El Sha-dai,’ and they did not question My ways or ask Me, 'What is Your Name?' Vaeira tells the critical story of how Moshe and Bnei Yisrael learned patience. We are at the very beginning of a ceasefire-hostage release process. This moment evokes many different emotions. As Rav Lichtenstein notes: “The importance of Parshat Vaeira lies in the fact that it provides an answer to the problem of "impatience.” A reading of the parsha in its entirety shows how the process plays itself out and how God thinks of everything. Our parsha offers a sense of historical consciousness, and has much to teach us about the redemption that we have experienced in our own era.”