Life is an Allegory

The Rama (OC 490:9) writes that it is customary to recite Shir Hashirim on Shabbat Chol Hamoed Pesach. The Magen Avraham explains the custom based on the fact that the Exodus is alluded to in Shir Hashirim (1:9): “At the gathering of the steeds of Pharaoh's chariots have I silenced you, my beloved.” This appears to be a reference to the Jewish People’s silence as they reached the Red Sea, which we read about and commemorate on the 7^th Day of Pesach. The Sefas Emes suggests a different approach. He notes that according to Rashi and other commentators, the entire book is an allegory that refers to the relationship between Hashem and Bnei Yisrael throughout history. Sefas Emes suggests that all of life is on some level an allegory, and the interpretation of our lives (like Shir Hashirim) can only be fully understood in the context of God’s existence and our mandate to serve Him. Too often we get caught up in the literalness of our lives. We focus on what is in front of us and get bogged down in the mundane and inconsequential; instead of seeing past the obvious to focus on what is really important and of consequence. The story of the Exodus teaches us that all of the characters, especially Pharaoh, were mere actors in a drama produced and directed by Hashem. The same is true of our lives, though perhaps our scripts are less dramatic. Shir Hashirim teaches us that there are lessons to be learned from every experience. Shen we are confronted with challenges, we are not supposed to only solve the problem. It is legitimate, even encouraged, to view that challenges, that problem, that experience, as an allegory and a teachable moment. Figuring out what we are supposed to be learning from these experiences is not an exact science. But thinking in these terms, ie that there is more to grapple with and to learn from our experiences beyond the surface level, is one of the great lessons of Shir Hashirim.

How to Become Enriched Through the Pesach Seder

At the end of Avadim Hayinu we say וְכָל הַמַּרְבֶּה לְסַפֵּר בִּיצִיאַת מִצְרַיִם הֲרֵי זֶה מְשֻׁבָּח. This is generally translated as “Whoever expands upon the telling of the story of the Exodus (tonight) is considered praiseworthy.” The Alexander Rebbe suggested that we can translate this phrase in another way: “Whoever focuses his/her attention on appreciating the miracles of the Exodus and embellishes their praise and gratitude to Hashem for Yetziat Mitzrayim- such a person is not only praiseworthy but will become enriched as a result. Living lives of gratitude is enriching. On Seder night we exercise our gratitude muscles in order to celebrate Pesach but also as practice for the rest of the year. A certain Jew from Bnei Brak recalled sitting at the Seder table of the Alexander Rebbe. Before reciting Kiddush the Rebbe exclaimed, “A Jew that does not believe that on this night he climbs from the lowest depths to the highest heights – he is the Rasha referred to in the Haggadah!” We climb those Seder heights through developing our sense of gratitude – to Hashem and to others. We do so even when it’s not so easy. Reb Elimelech Biderman tells a story that one year Rav Zalman Brizel was about to begin his Seder, when one of his grandchildren, who was playing, accidentally tugged at the tablecloth causing the matzahs to fall on the floor where they cracked. Each whole matzah was very precious to Rav Brizel, but he did not react to the accident. Instead, he smiled broadly, raised his eyes heavenward and proclaimed, “Ribbono Shel Olam, I thank You for my sweet grandchildren!”  This Pesach, let’s not cry over broken matzahs. There is much for the Jewish People to pray for this year, perhaps more so than in years past. May our gratitude serve as the merit by which all of our prayers are answered.

The Mindset Behind Lashon Hara

Parshat Tazria teaches the laws of diagnosing the spiritual affliction of Tzara’at. Our Rabbis taught that Biblical Tzara’at would occur at times as punishment for the sin of Lashon Hara. The first instance of destructive speech in the Torah goes all the way back to Genesis. In trying to convince Chava to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, the snake told her that God was afraid that if humans ate from the tree, then they would become rivals to God Himself, and nobody likes a rival. If we take a step back we begin to realize how preposterous this argument really is. Hashem created the world to bestow kindness onto mankind. At first Adam did not have to work. The angels provided them with whatever they needed. They could spend all of their time connecting with and enjoying their closeness to God. Yet the snake walks (perhaps literally) into this scene and sees the negative. The cause of this first Lashon Hara, and every subsequent infraction, is viewing life through a jaundiced eye. Lashon Hara always entails viewing a situation and focusing on the negative aspect. Lashon Hara most directly damages the person who speaks it because the speaker of Lashon Hara corrupts him/herself into a negative personality. Habitual negativity infects everyone around the speaker as well. People who radiate such negativity find it difficult to be in satisfying relationships with spouses, children, family or friends because they are always harping on the problems. And those who are committed to maintaining their positive outlook will ultimately distance themselves from those who exhibit such negativity. Ultimately people who are negative towards other people will sour on Hashem too. Instead of seeing the blessings in their life, the Baal Lashon Harah will focus on the things that Hashem does that they perceive as bad, instead of all of the blessings that Hashem bestows.

Rabbi ISser Zalman Meltzer was sitting in his sukkah one year on Chol Hamoed Sukkot. He asked Rabbi Dovid Finkel, who was visiting him, to bring him a pen and a piece of paper. Rabbi Finkle was surprised at the request as Rav Meltzer was known to be stringent not to write on Chol Hamoed. Sensing the hesitancy Rav Meltzer explained that it was urgent for him to have a pen and paper- a matter of Pikuach Nefesh (saving a life). Upon receiving the pen and paper Rav Meltzer wrote a pasuk from Mishlei (4:25):

עֵינֶיךָ לְנֹ֣כַח יַבִּ֑יטוּ וְ֜עַפְעַפֶּ֗יךָ יַיְשִׁ֥רוּ נֶגְדֶּֽךָ:: Let your eyes look forward, and let your eyelids look straight ahead of you. Rav Meltzer explained that over Chol Hamoed hundreds of Jews would come to visit him, and not all of them would be great Torah scholars or interesting conversationalists. Some would be unbalanced people, and other would have faults and flaws of varying degrees. The Netziv explained this verse in Mishlei as teaching us that if you look at someone and first notice a fault, turn your eye inward and look at yourself instead. Even though it sometimes seems that speaking Lashon Hara can be satisfying and enjoyable, the truth is that it is exactly the opposite. Speaking Lashon Hara corrodes our viewpoint, corrodes our relationships, and ultimately corrodes our soul. Avoiding Lashon Hara creates space for us to appreciate the blessings that we have. Avoiding Lashon Hara will make us happier people, allowing us to develop our positive dispositions and to strengthen our relationship with others and with Hashem.

Humble Hounds and Boardroom Lions

In a New York Times column, David Brooks suggested that there are two models of leadership: boardroom lions and humble hounds.

Boardroom lions are super confident, forceful and charismatic. They tend to be mavericks, always calling for serious and systemic change. These characteristics can be quite useful for leaders- whether in business or politics, or even one’s personal life. Yet research shows that these types of leaders can also be risky. Their confidence coupled with a propensity towards change can create achievements that are either fabulously successful or dismally miss their mark.

Brooks contrasts the boardroom lion with what he terms the humble hound model of leadership. Humble hounds are less interested in their achievements and more interested in looking ahead for any weaknesses and areas of potential improvement. They are more likely to make calculated, less-sweeping changes and only after consultation with others. They depend more on team efforts, and are not interested in highlighting personal achievement. Jim Collins, author of the book How the Mighty Fall sums up the character of humble hounds as, “extreme personal humility with intense professional will.”

In Parshat Shemini, Moshe said to Aharon: Kerav El Hamizbeiach ``Come close to the Altar to perform your sacrificial service.” The Midrash picks up on the word “Come near” and notes Aharon’s hesitance. He was ashamed to take on his role as Kohen due to his involvement with the Golden Calf. Only after being encouraged by Moshe does Aharon take up his priestly place.

Moshe and Aharon are prime examples of the humble hound school of leadership. By the Torah’s own account, Moshe was the most humble of all men. In Parshat Shemini he demonstrates this humility by deferring to Aharon to take over in the Mishkan. When his words go unheeded, he is willing to respectfully listen to his brother explain his logic. And when Aharon’s logic is convincing, not only is Moshe willing to admit his mistake but “Vayitav B’einav- he is willing to do so happily, without any hard feelings whatsoever. (In this week’s Parsha we also see Aharon’s humility up close. He is willing to face the consequences of his involvement in the Golden Calf episode. This is besides that fact that his entire life Aharon was willing to serve a secondary role to his younger brother Moshe.)

Whereas Moshe and Aharon are models of humble hound leadership, Nadav and Avihu were boardroom lions. They were intent on systemic change. According to rabbinic tradition, Nadav and Avihu would talk amongst themselves and ask concerning Moshe and Aharon, “When will these old men pass on so that we will become the new leaders of the nation?” Their fatal flaw was their arrogance. Rashi quotes the opinion that their sin was “Shehoru Halacha Bifnei Moshe Raban.” They did not show Moshe the deference that he deserved. Perhaps the clearest example of their arrogance emerges from the opinion in the Midrash that Nadav and Avihu never married. According to Midrash Rabba:

“They were conceited, many women awaited them eagerly (to marry them) but what did they say? ‘Our uncle is King, our other uncle is a head of a tribe, our father is High Priest, we are his two assistants. What woman is worthy of us?’”

The story of Nadav and Avihu reminds us of the challenges inherent in leadership and the dangers of arrogance. If Moshe and Aharon were willing to reassess and reevaluate their actions then all of us should be willing to do so, as individuals and as a community.

In Tribute to My Senator

Growing up in Connecticut in the 1980’s I remember the buzz surrounding our State’s Attorney general, Joe Lieberman. Joe was born and raised in Stamford, CT and attended Yale University (in my hometown of New Haven). Although he lived in Stamford, Joe had family in New Haven that attended the same shul as we did. My friend’s parents set Joe up with his wife Hadassah. Joe would occasionally visit his family in New Haven, and he was the talk of the town when he attended the Young Israel of New Haven. Our pride in Joe became even greater when in 1989 he defeated incumbent Republican Lowell Weicker to become our US Senator.  An interesting fact about that first Senate victory (the biggest upset of that election cycle) is that Joe won with the support of conservative Republicans, including National Review publisher William F. Buckley.  Senator Lieberman became known as a pragmatist, willing to work with politicians from either party in order to further his goals and his agenda. He was also a centrist, unwilling to “sell his soul” to any ideology or party. He supported issues and causes that he was passionate about, regardless of which party sponsored them. A good example of this is that Senator Lieberman supported President George Bush and his launching of the Iraq War, even though it was unpopular among Democrats. This decision led to Joe losing the Democratic primary for Senator to a candidate who was purely aligned with the policies of the Democratic Party. Lucky for Joe, the winner of the primary still needs to win the general election. In 2006 Joe ran as an independent after losing the primary, and won the general election to retain his Senate seat.

Joe Lieberman will go down in history as the first Jewish person to run for Vice President. In 2000, Joe ran on the Democratic Presidential ticket as Al Gore’s Vice President, and he came with 537 votes of winning. (I understand that those who were living in Florida during the 2000 election recount still have anxiety whenever they hear the word “chad”.)

Not only was Joe Lieberman a Jew and a proud Jew; he was also an observant Jew. The headline on the newsite Yeshiva World News first referred to Joe as a Shomer Shabbos before mentioning that he was a US Senator. Being a Shomer Shabbos is a moniker that is within all of our abilities to attain and to celebrate. As my colleague and Joe’s Rabbi Daniel Cohen put it in an interview Wednesday, that at the synagogue, the late senator would be remembered as a “mensch par excellence” who — in spite of his lofty position — hung around to schmooze after services. “He was a senator, but at the same time, he sat in seats like everybody else, he enjoyed the kiddush like everybody else,” Cohen recalled, noting Lieberman’s fondness of cholent and whiskey. “When he walked home from shul, he got soaked on rainy days. He was one of us.”

“People always wanted to get his ear — like, how often do you have a senator who’s like, hanging out eating cholent with you? People visiting Stamford would be like, ‘He’s davening mincha like me?’” Cohen recalled, referring to the afternoon service. “But he gave everyone the time of day. He listened well.”

Joseph I Lieberman embodied the spirit of the Biblical Joseph: comfortable in the highest echelons of power while remaining true and proud of his Jewish identity. Our world today can use certainly use a voice and a perspective like Joe’s. With his passing, we all must do what we can to follow in his footsteps

The Korban Oleh V’Yored in Our Lives

One of the first terms that I learned when I was working at a Jewish Family Service in NJ was sliding scale fee. As a not-for—profit mental health facility, Jewish Family Services is committed to helping those in need, irrespective of a client’s ability to pay; so most agencies have a sliding scale fee arrangement. A person pays what s/he is able to afford, based on their income and financial situation.

One could say that the idea of a sliding scale fee structure is found in this week’s Parsha. Sefer Vayikra begins with an overview of the various types of sacrifices, and the circumstances surrounding the offering of each. Chapter Five teaches that there are some violations for which a Korban Oleh V’Yored is brought. A Korban Oleh V’Yored is a sliding scale sacrifice (Oleh V’Yored means “up and down”). One who is of means will bring a female sheep or goat as a Korban Chatat. If one cannot afford an animal then they bring two doves instead. Those who cannot even afford two birds are instructed to bring an offering of flour as a Korban. Korban Oleh V’Yored reminds us that our ability to have a relationship with G-d and to be a valued member of Jewish society is not dependent on one’s economic status. As long as one commits to the cause and they reach deep to do and to give as much as they can- then we appreciate their efforts and they are considered members in good standing within the community.

In explaining the “sliding scale Korban” the Sefer Hachinuch makes two points. First, quoting the Talmud, the Chinuch writes that if one has the means to afford a goat or sheep as their Korban but instead brings a less expensive sacrifice, that person has not fulfilled his or her requirement and must bring another sacrifice that is on par with their economic status. The message here is clear. People must be willing to honestly prioritize their financial resources and determine what it is they are able to give. The Torah warns us not to undervalue nor undercut our religious and communal obligations.

The second point that the Chinuch makes is that if a person of modest means overextends him or herself in order to bring a sacrifice that is out of their budget, that person has also NOT fulfilled their obligation of bringing a Korban Oleh V’Yored. It seems odd: after all, there is a rich tradition within the Halacha of Hidur Mitzvah, of spending more than the minimum in order to perform a mitzvah in a beautiful way. Why is it that a person of modest means who stretches to bring a more expensive Korban should be denied the opportunity?

The Sefer Hachinuch is teaching us the importance of living within our means. If a person cannot afford it, then s/he should not be buying it, even for the sake of a mitzvah. It’s a difficult lesson to take seriously in this country. After all, our government is 34 Trillion dollars (that’s twelve zeros) in debt. That works out to over $101,000 of debt for each person living in this country. Is it any wonder that personal debt has reached epidemic proportions?  The average household is burdened with 12,000 dollars of credit card debt. It has come to the point in this country that debt is good for your credit rating. A person with debt in most circumstances will be considered a better candidate for a loan than someone without debt.  Korban Oleh V’Yored teaches us the value of living within our means and of financial independence. The Torah is satisfied with different sacrifices from different people, so long as everyone prioritizes the cause and gives it their best effort.

The Half Shekel and Tzedakah: Acting Beyond Our Egos

 In describing the mitzvah of the half shekel, the Torah at the beginning of Parshat Ki Tisa states: “The rich shall give no more, and the poor shall give no less than half a shekel.” The half shekel is a contribution that every obligated Jew contributes in an equal fashion. The Rambam expounds on the obligation of the poor to contribute this half shekel: “Even a poor man who derives his livelihood from charity is obligated [to make this donation]. He should borrow from others or sell the clothes5 he is wearing so that he can give a half-shekel of silver.” Rav Aharon Lichtenstein zt’l notes that this is the only mitzvah in the Torah that requires a poor person to sell his garments in order to fulfill the obligation. This might be because the half shekel is referred to as “an atonement for your souls”, and everyone can use some atonement.

Additionally, the half shekels were used to purchase animals that were brought as communal sacrifices which would facilitate atonement for the nation as a whole. Rav Lichtenstein notes that it would be inappropriate for a person to enjoy the benefits of this communal atonement without participating in the burden (financial and others) required to attain it. This is an important lesson that extends far beyond the half shekel and communal sacrifices. If we benefit from Jewish communal resources, whether directly or indirectly, then we should feel a sense of responsibility to contribute to the ongoing vitality and expansion of those resources.

Rav Lichtenstein notes that when it comes to the laws of Tzedakah, the Rambam similarly writes that even a poor person who himself is dependent on charity must give something to tzedakah on an annual basis (Laws of Matnot Aniyim 7:1-5). Why must a beneficiary of tzedakah still give his own tzedakah? Rav Lichtenstein explains that Halacha wants every person to be a giver in some way and at some time; even if that person is most often a receiver. By being a giver a person will leave his self-centered perspective and see/ assist others in need.

The Talmud in Baba Batra (8b) teaches that Beit Din is empowered to compel a person to give tzedakah. Some of the commentators ask on this rule based on another Talmudic teaching that “any Beit Din cannot compel a person to perform any commandment that has a specific reward stated in the Torah”. And tzedakah is a mitzvah whose reward is specified in the Torah (Devarim 15:10): “You shall surely give him, and your heart shall not be grieved when you give to him; for because of this thing the Lord, your God, will bless you in all your work and in all your endeavors.” Rav Lichtenstein suggested that the reason Beit Din can compel the performance of tzedakah is out of a concern for the moral health of society. Beit Din is empowered to educate the community and to  compel people move out of their natural egocentric perspective and consider other people and their needs as an expression of their role as part of the Jewish community.