Observant and Observing

 I have always been enamored by stories of great people who demonstrate their greatness through their

attention to seemingly small details. Here’s a story told about the Lubavitcher Rebbe, whose yahrtzeit

was last Sunday, 3 Tammuz. The Rebbe was well known for handing out dollar bills. The Rebbe believed

that whenever two Jews meet it should create a benefit for a third Jew as well. So when the Rebbe

received people seeking his blessing, he would give each person a dollar bill to subsequently give to

tzedaka. On the day that I went to see the Rebbe as a young boy the Rebbe was giving out two dollar

bills to each person. Most people would keep the dollar that they received from the Rebbe as a

memento / segula and give a different dollar bill to Tzedaka. The Rebbe would also give out coins to

children as he was walking in Crown Heights. One time I received a coin from the Rebbe in this fashion.

As opposed to the dollars, the general practice was for children to immediately deposit the coin into the

nearest pushka. At public gatherings (farbrengen), children would sometimes be called up one by one to

receive a coin and a blessing from the Rebbe. The Rebbe would typically extend his right hand — as is

customary in Jewish tradition. One time a boy stepped up, and the Rebbe extended his left hand

instead. This puzzled many onlookers. The right hand is associated with strength and favor; why would

the Rebbe use his left? Later, someone close to the Rebbe asked him, and the Rebbe quietly explained:

“I saw that the boy is left-handed. I wanted him to feel the same comfort and honor as the others. If I

used my right hand, he would have had to awkwardly switch hands to receive the coin. Why should he

feel different or out of place — even for a second?” Another famous story about attention to detail is

told about Rav Chaim Soloveitchik, grandfather of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and Rabbi in Brisk. Rav

Chaim was a serious Torah scholar and communal leader, yet he requested that on his tombstone only

the words “Rav Chesed” be engraved. One year on Erev Pesach, hours before the Seder, Rav Chaim

received a knock at the door. Outside stood a poor man who said: “Rabbi, I need to ask you a question

about Seder night. Is it permissible to drink milk for the four cups at the Seder?” Rav Chaim asked his

wife to him bring five rubles, which he gave to the man and wished him a happy Pesach. When the man

had departed, Rav Chaim’s wife inquired: “Why did you give so much money to that man? One ruble

would have been sufficient to buy wine for the whole of Pesach.” Rav Chaim replied: “Since he was

asking whether he could drink milk at the Seder, I deduced that he obviously could not afford meat

either! The extra money was to purchase meat for the festival.” In reading Parshat Balak one can ask:

what exactly did Bilam do wrong? Hashem never told Bilam to turn back, so why is Bilam punished and

villainized by our tradition? Rav Hillel Mertzbach of Yad Binyamin suggested that Bilam might have been

paying attention to the “text” but he was not paying attention to the context. Yes, technically Hashem

told him he could go but the context was that He really didn’t want Bilam to go. Had he been really

paying attention he would have known the truth. Pirkei Avot contrasts Bilam with Avraham Avinu.

Avraham paid attention to everything going on around him. Avraham noticed the sun and the moon and

wondered who created them. This attention to detail led him to become the father of many nations,

including ours. Another term for people who are religious and keep Halacha is “observant”. Yes, we

must observe the mitzvot. But greatness is also found in the way that we observe and are sensitive to

everything and everyone around us.

Take Cheshbon!

 Towards the end of the Parsha we read how Sichon King of Emori did not permit Bnei Yisrael to pass through his territory. The king led his people in war against the Jews, and they were defeated in a battle in which Israel conquered all his cities including Sichon’s capital of Cheshbon. The Talmud in Gittin (38a) teaches that עַמּוֹן וּמוֹאָב טָהֲרוּ בְּסִיחוֹן. land of Ammon and Moab became purified through the conquest of Sihon. Hashem did not permit Bnai Yisrael to conquer lands controlled by their distant cousins, Ammon and Moav: Only once their lands were conquered by Sihon did they become “purified” (ie permitted) to be conquered by Bnai Yisrael. The Torah then gives some background to the Sichon’s victory in a cryptic fashion (21:27): עַל־כֵּ֛ן יֹֽאמְר֥וּ הַמּֽשְׁלִ֖ים בֹּ֣אוּ חֶשְׁבּ֑וֹן תִּבָּנֶ֥ה וְתִכּוֹנֵ֖ן עִ֥יר סִיחֽוֹן: “Concerning this, those who speak in parables say, "Come to Heshbon, may it be built and established as the city of Sihon.” Rashi explains that when Sichon was having difficulties conquering these lands, he hired two prophets, Bilaam and his father Be’or, to curse the Moabites thereby allowing for Sichon’s conquest. “Moshlim” is a reference to the evil father-son prophet team that assured Sichon of the efficacy of their curses by encouraging Sichon to “come to Cheshbon” and conquer it from Moav. The Talmud in Baba Batra (78b) suggests a non-literal reading of the pasuk: “Hamoshlim”; these are the people who rule over [hamoshlim] their evil inclination. They will say: “Come to Heshbon,” meaning: Come and let us calculate the account of [ḥeshbon] the world, i.e., the financial loss incurred by the fulfillment of a mitzva in contrast to its reward, and the reward for committing a transgression, i.e., the pleasure and gain received, in contrast to the loss it entails. “Let it be built and established” means that if you make this calculation, you will be built in this world and you will be established in the World-to-Come.” Literally Moshlim are poets or prophets, but the Talmud understands it to refer to those who “rule” over their impulses and base desires. The way to rule over our base instincts is to make a Cheshbon, an accounting, and to carefully consider the costs and benefits of our actions- both short term and long term. Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski noted that western society places a high premium on acting in ways that prioritize the pleasure of the moment. He suggests that this explains why credit card debt is so rampant in America, with the average household carrying $8,000 in this type of debt. If people would calculate the actual and ultimate cost of purchases they make on credit cards that carry exorbitant interest rates, their spending habits would most likely change. People would stay more within their means and delay big purchases until they could really afford them. An economy built on credit cards enables peoples to be blinded by their desires and not to calculate the true costs. This is not only a spending issue. People are often compelled to say or do something that feels good or right in the moment but turns out to be unhelpful or even detrimental in the bigger picture or in the longer term. This is how the Talmud’s homiletic interpretation overlaps with the literal reading. Had King Sichon taken a step back and looked at the bigger picture he could have realized that one potential outcome of his conquest of Cheshbon was that it would enable Bnei Yisrael to take it from him without violating the Divine edict not to battle with Moav. Sichon’s inability to “take an accounting” of all of the possible outcomes of his military action led to his defeat. Cheshbon Hanefesh, a personal accounting, is an important reflection tool, reviewing our past actions to learn lessons for the future. This pasuk in Chukat highlights the importance of Cheshbon Hanefesh as also a planning tool: a helpful way for us to consider all of the potential outcomes and to then act accordingly.  

Kids Hear Everything: Be Aware of the Consequences

 The story of Korach is both a tragedy and a learning opportunity. As the controversy heats up, it becomes clear to Moshe that the rabble rousers will soon experience a Divine punishment. Moshe told the elders to keep their distance from Datan, Aviram and anyone else associated with Korach’s rebellion. Then the Torah describes the scene right before the earth swallows up the rabble rousers (16:27): “So the elders withdrew from around the dwelling of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, and Dathan and Abiram went out standing upright at the entrance of their tents together with their wives, their children, and their infants.” Rashi quotes Midrash Tanchuma that wonders why the Torah mentions the children and infants and explains: “Come and see the severity of machloket (dispute). The earthly courts do not punish until an accused has reached maturity, and the heavenly court does not punish until one reaches the age of twenty, but here even nursing babies were lost. The Maharal wonders why the children were punished in this instance, when the rule is that children are not liable for punishment. He explains by quoting the Midrash that both Gehinnom and Machloket were created on the second day of Creation. Maharal explains that once the children were exposed to the controversy of their parents, they became infected and ultimately suffered the same consequences as those who initiated the dispute. What these “children of the machloket” experienced was not a punishment but rather a consequence and a natural outcome of being exposed to dispute, discord and disrespect. While it is true that we do not hold children liable for their misdeeds, we cannot protect them from ill effects if their parents expose them to negative experiences. The episode of Korach was so severe that unfortunately the children who were exposed to it were also doomed, sharing in the fate of their parents. This is a lesson for all adults, and especially for parents. Children are heavily influenced by what they see and what they hear- especially from the adults in their lives. If a child hears or sees the adults in their lives acting with discord, dispute or disrespect it will have a profound and damaging impact on them, even as we do not blame them for those sins. If a child hears lashon hara, profanities or the degradation of communal institutions / leaders at their Shabbat table – we don’t blame them for the words but we cannot protect them from the moral and spiritual damage that may result nonetheless. In the pasuk I quoted earlier, the underlined phrase in Hebrew is מִשְׁכַּן קֹרַח דָּתָן וַאֲבִירָם  . It’s interesting that we refer to the encampment of Korach and his followers as a Mishkan. We normally associate the term Mishkan with the location of Divine Presence and inspiration. With the Maharal in mind, perhaps the Torah is teaching us that the home Is a Mishkan in that it contains tremendous potential. Our homes can be a place where values are exhibited and transmitted, or it can be where children learn to mimic the mistakes and foibles of the adults around them. The story of Korach reminds us of the responsibilities that each of us has to create a spiritually nurturing and uplifting environment- for ourselves and for the next generation. 

Love Can Make Us Do Crazy Things

As part of the punishment for the sin of the spies, that generation of Bnai Yisrael was barred entry into the Promised Land. As Hashem told Moshe (14:31) only the next generation would enter Eretz Yisrael “they shall know the land that you have despised.” This notion that the Jews of that time despised the Land is a sentiment repeated in Tehllim 106: וַיִּֽמְאֲסוּ בְּאֶ֣רֶץ חֶמְדָּ֑ה “they despised the desirable Land.” Rav Avraham Pam asked: How do we know that the Jews despised the Land of Israel? Perhaps they really loved the land but had no faith in Hashem, or maybe they had no faith in their ability to conquer the land. Maybe they were just afraid or unsure. Why does the Torah accuse them of despising the land? Rav Pam answered this question by citing a Halacha regarding gifting objects to a fetus that has not yet been born. The Talmud in Baba Batra states that even though we normally say Zachin L’Adam Shelo B’fanav that one can act on behalf of another entity for their benefit, even without their knowledge, that is not the case regarding a yet-unborn fetus. We say that the gift-giver is not sincere in his intentions to give, since the child is not yet born and there are plausible scenarios in which the child will not be born nor be able to receive the gift. A transaction under dubious circumstances is not binding. However the Talmud goes on to state that if a father gives a gift to his yet unborn biological child, such a gift is binding- even before birth. This is because a father has real love for his child even in utero. The possibility of something, God forbid, going wrong does not enter into his mind nor his calculations at all when it comes to his own child. Rav Pam goes on to explain that if the Jews had a deep relationship with the land then that love would have blinded them to the possibility of something bad happening. The fact that they were fixated on the possible problems is an indication that they were lacking in their love for Eretz Yisrael. King Solomon said (Mishlei 10:12) that love makes us do crazy things. Love also allows us to focus on the positive and gloss over the challenges and the problems, even when the problems are objectively obvious. There is certainly such a thing as constructive criticism. If we love someone or something then there may be ways and times when we must point out these shortcomings or these problems. But if we find ourselves focusing on problems then we must ask ourselves where is the love that would allow us to approach the problems from a different perspective? Israel is in the midst of a war with Iran. This war is of supreme, even existential, significance. Talking to people in Israel I hear their pride more than their fear. Rav Pam’s lesson about love struck me when watching a video clip of one of the first flights to land in Israel with Israelis who were desperate to return home. First it is important to take a moment to realize that in the midst of a war, thousands of people are desperate to return home and enter into a war zone. The video clip showed a flight attendant wrapped in an Israeli flag singing with the passengers with joy and determination. Love can make us do some crazy things. Love allows us to overlook many issues and problems. In this critical moment we each must ask ourselves whether there’s enough love in our lives- towards each other and towards Medinat Yisrael. 

No One Said it’s Supposed to be Easy

 Some people love IKEA furniture. I’ve had my issues with the desk we bought there. Admittedly, I am partly the cause of the problem. The desk came in a flat box in 25 pieces, I am sure that I did not properly construct it from the outset.. And if it’s not properly built initially, then you are bound to have subsequent. Full disclosure: 23 years later we still use that desk. The lesson is that things don’t have to be perfect in order to be sturdy. Nevertheless, it is true that the more pieces an object comes in, the less sturdy and impressive that object will be. In this morning’s Parsha we read about two objects that were impressively made from one single piece. The Parsha opens with the command directed towards Aharon to light the Menorah. Thereafter, the Torah provides a one-pasuk description of the menorah’s construction: “This is the workmanship of the Menorah: hammered out (Miksha) of one piece of gold; from its base to its flowers it is hammered out.” The fact that the Menorah was sculpted out of one piece of gold was a feat so impressive that even Moshe was stumped as to how the menorah was to be constructed. Later in the Parsha, we read about the Chatzotzrot. Moshe was commanded to make two silver trumpets. Here again the Torah specifies that the trumpets must be “miksha”, shaped out of a single piece of silver. And though not mentioned in our Parsha, there is one additional ritual object that had to be shaped from one piece: the Keruvim, which sat on top of the Aron had to also be Miksha. The word Miksha comes from the word Kasha, which means hard or difficult. To sculpt these elaborate objects can certainly be considered difficult. But why were these three items singled out for Miksha treatment? Is there any common thread between the Menorah, the trumpets and the Keruvim that can help shed light on this shared construction requirement? The key to understanding the Miksha factor is by seeking the symbolism inherent in each of the aforementioned items. The Menorah symbolizes Torah knowledge. The Talmud in Baba Batra learns from the position of the Menorah in the mishkan that Harotzeh Sheyachkim Yadrim: one who wants to become learned must orient towards the Menorah, on the southern wall of the Mikdash. The Gemara in Sukah (5b) states that the Keruvim resembled children. The chatzotzrot symbolize happiness. In this morning’s Torah reading, the last pasuk relating to the trumpets sums up the instances in which they were blown (10: 10). The sound of the chatzotzrot was supposed to both foster and express our feelings of joy. Torah, children and happiness: three of the most fundamental and essential aspects of our lives. Each stands on its own as an important pursuit, and yet they are inextricably entwined one with the other. One might think that as fundamentals, success in these areas should be easy. The Torah makes the point to tell us each instance: “Miksha Hi.” They’re hard to accomplish and hard to maintain. These three values seem to pull us in three different directions. Spending time learning Torah versus time spent with our families. The financial stress of paying for a Jewish education for our children, and how much happier we imagine we could be without that burden. Some people believe that such tensions and questions are symptoms of a lack faith and that the Torah has a clear answer for every situation. By examining the menorah, the chatzotzrot and the keruvim, we are better equipped to appreciate that at times the Torah’s lesson is to embrace the challenge and the tension. By specifying these three objects the Torah teaches us that even with goals as essential as Torah, family and joy, it’s OK to say “Miksha Hi.” By appreciating the inherent difficulties, may we merit to enjoy the full measure of Hashem’s blessing in all of these important facets of our life.

Opportunity Costs in Avodat Hashem

 In Judaism, the concept of sin is often misunderstood. We tend to think of an Aveira as actively doing something forbidden: violating a Halacha, hurting someone, or disobeying Hashem’s mitzvot. But Jewish tradition encourages us to see that the real tragedy of sin is not only in what we do wrong, but in what we could have done right instead. Every moment we spend on something spiritually negative is a moment we are not building, not learning, not growing, and not giving. The word the Torah uses for sin is "chet", which comes from the root meaning “to miss the mark.” It implies not only a mistake, but a failure to live up to one’s potential. Sin is not just a matter of breaking laws — it’s about misusing the precious, finite time and energy we’ve been given. An aveira is not simply a negative — it’s an absence of a positive. It’s not only that we did something wrong, but that we failed to do something right. This idea is echoed in the writings of the Vilna Gaon, who taught that every moment not used for Torah or mitzvot is a loss that can never truly be recovered. Similarly, Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin taught that a person will be held accountable not just for the sins they committed, but for the Torah they could have learned and the mitzvot they could have performed instead. In a sense, this perspective raises the bar for us. Living a Torah life is not just about avoiding wrongdoing, but about actively pursuing good.  This is what David Hamelech is teaching us in Tehillim Chapter 34: “Who is the man who desires life, who loves days to see goodness? Guard your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceitfully. Shun evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it.” Avoiding evil is just the beginning. Life is really about doing good-deeds and seeking peace. It has been suggested that a physician’s first responsibility is “Do No Harm”. Even if that is in fact an important aspect of medicine, everyone agrees that doing no harm is merely the context in which healing and saving lives- the real purpose of medicine- can occur. Towards the beginning of Parshat Naso the Torah mentions the obligation of Viduy, confessing one’s sin as an integral step in the Teshuva process. The obligation is worded as follows (5:7): וְהִתְוַדּ֗וּ אֶת־חַטָּאתָם֘ אֲשֶׁ֣ר עָשׂוּ֒. “They shall confess the sin that they did.” The last two words seem superfluous- if you are confessing a sin, it’s obviously a sin that you did. The Kotzker Rebbe explained that the reason a person should not sin is not because it is forbidden or repulsive to the person. Rather a person should not sin because they have no time to sin. If a person sticks to a schedule of daily activities, Torah and mitzvot, they should have no time to do anything else. If a person sins, they must review their entire schedule and examine where they have been lax in allowing for “idle hands” which allows for the possibility of sin. This is how we should read the pasuk: One must confess their sin, and then they must consider what they could have and should have been doing instead of the sin. When we reflect on our mistakes, we should look beyond guilt and ask a more powerful question: What could I have been doing instead? That shift changes our relationship to sin and to life itself. It reminds us that each moment is an irrecoverable opportunity for kedusha.

Bamidbar Before Shavuot

 The Talmud in Megillah (31b) teaches that Ezra instituted to read in shul the blessings and curses from Parshat Ki Tavo before Rosh Hashanah so as to fulfill the doctrine of כְּדֵי שֶׁתִּכְלֶה הַשָּׁנָה וְקִלְלוֹתֶיהָ. “that the year may conclude together with its curses”. The Talmud adds that another aspect of Ezra’s decree was to read the blessings and curses from Parshat Bechukotai before Shavuot. The Talmud notes that the Mishnah in Rosh Hashana refers to Shavuot as the New Year for fruit, and therefore it’s appropriate to read the curses before this New Year begins. Tosfot in Megilah raises the question that usually (as is the case this year) we read Parshat Bamidbar on the Shabbat before Shavuot. (The same is true regarding Ki Tavo: we read it two weeks before Rosh Hashanah). Why don’t we fulfill Ezra’s edict immediately prior to the start of the New Year? Tosfot suggest that the curses are so severe and disconcerting that we schedule a “buffer Shabbat” before celebrating the New Year. However commentators have suggested more intrinsic connections between Parshat Bamidbar and Shavuot. The Talmud in Nedarim (55) teaches that Torah is able to maximally impact those who “make themselves like a Midbar.” Just as a desert is sparse, so too a person who is humble is best suited to absorb the Torah’s lessons. While we must have Jewish pride and be proud that the Torah is ours, Parshat Bamidbar reminds us that the Torah’s way is to adopt a healthy dose of humility. The Chidah (in Nachal Kedumim) writes that the Gematriya of the words במדבר סיני is the same as the word “Shalom”.  Peace and harmony is both a prerequisite for receiving the Torah as well as an outcome of keeping the Torah. Violence in the name of religion is anathema to Jewish tradition. Before receiving it every year, Parshat Bamidbar reminds us that the paths of Torah are peaceful. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein noted that Sefer Bamidbar is referred to as Numbers, Chumash HaPekudim. We count something (or someone) that is valuable and important to us. An appropriate way to prepare for Matan Torah is to be reminded through the Parsha that every single Jew is valuable. Every single Jew is counted because every Jew counts. When we find ourselves part of a large crowd sometimes we think that we don’t really matter, or that our contributions are not necessary. We might say to ourselves “someone else will make the shiva minyan” or “someone else will contribute to the shul” or “someone else will invite that person over for a Shabbat or Yom Tov meal.” We prepare to accept the Torah by remembering that each of us counts and each of our contributions are indispensable.  Parshat Bamidbar also teaches the specifics of the encampment. The lesson is that life is meant to be lived in community and shared with others. We may be individuals but we greatly benefit from camaraderie. Therefore we must choose our company wisely. Parshat Bamidbar reminds us before Shavuot to share our lives with people who are growth oriented and who embrace the Torah. We  embrace our individuality as we grow together in the pursuit of meaning.

The Best Self-Help Advice: Help Others

 Martin Luther King Jr. said the “surest way to be happy is to seek happiness for others.” Research published by a team of psychologists at the University of Missouri-Columbia suggests that our own happiness is, indeed, influenced by the kindness and generosity we show others. In one study, participants were approached on the street after parking their cars. They were given a few quarters by a research assistant and were asked to either feed their own parking meters or the meters of an adjacent car. The researchers then asked participants how happy they felt. Interestingly, people who fed others’ meters showed a greater boost in happiness than those who fed their own meters, despite not knowing who they were helping. In another experiment, the researchers asked participants to either recall a time they tried to make someone else happy or themselves. Participants were asked to write a few sentences describing the event and rate how happy it made them feel. Again, participants who were prompted to recall a time they tried to improve the happiness of someone else reported higher levels of remembered happiness than those who wrote about a time when they tried to improve their own happiness. The research squares with other studies showing how spending money on others increases one’s happiness more than spending money on oneself. But it’s not just financial generosity that has the power to increase our happiness — donating our time to someone in need, or simply adopting a mentality that puts others’ happiness above our own, has a positive impact on our psychological well-being. The researchers offer a good explanation for why they saw the results they did. They suggest that it has to do with our basic psychological need for “relatedness,” or feeling close to others. According to the researchers, an attempt to make another person happy inspires feelings of closeness which, in turn, explains why people end up feeling happy themselves. In relating the prohibition of charging interest to a fellow Jew, the Torah in Parshat Behar states (25:35): וְכִֽי־יָמ֣וּךְ אָחִ֔יךָ וּמָ֥טָה יָד֖וֹ עִמָּ֑ךְ וְהֶֽחֱזַ֣קְתָּ בּ֔וֹ. “If your brother becomes destitute and his hand falters beside you, you shall support him”. According to typical Hebrew grammar the correct word for “him” is “Oto”. The word “Bo” usually means “in it” or “through him”. The Skulene Rebbe explained that this pasuk hints at the fact that by helping the person in need you are really supporting and strengthening yourself. Over the years many thinkers, including Kant, Nietzsche, and Freud, have pondered whether humans can act in a purely altruistic manner or are there always ulterior motives when humans do good towards others. From a torah perspective the question is moot. As indicated by the pasuk in our Parsha, feeling good about doing good deeds for others is not a flaw, it’s a feature. As we close the Aron we say the pasuk from Mishlei “עֵץ־חַיִּ֣ים הִ֖יא לַמַּחֲזִיקִ֣ים בָּ֑הּ” Torah is a tree of life for those who take grasp of it. The Chofetz Chaim points out that according to proper grammar, the correct Hebrew word should be “Otah” and not “Bah”. By using this terminology we are reminding ourselves that by engaging in Torah we are strengthening ourselves. Torah is the best Self-Help book out there, because it emphasizes the fact that we are best helped when we help others.

Be Careful with Your Excuses

 Midrash Rabbah (Vayikra 26) tells a story of how Hashem gave Moshe a “sneak peak” into the Jewish future and showed Moshe the main characters, both heroes and villains, of each future generation. Among the images Moshe was shown was the image of King Shaul, first king of Israel, lying next to his son Yonatan and both mortally wounded by Philistine swords. Moved by this vision, Moshe asked Hashem what Shaul had done to deserve such a heinous punishment. Hashem responded that Moshe could talk to the Kohanim (the tie-in with the first words of this week’s Parsha: Emor El HaKohanim) and the Kohanim would tell you that Shaul was liable for a harsh punishment due to his role in the massacre at Nov, a city of Kohanim (as described in Shmuel I: 6). Many have a hard time understanding this midrash. They point out that later in Shmuel I:15 we read how Shaul leads the battle against Amalek. While the prophet told Shaul to destroy everyone and everything associated with Amalek, King Shaul spared Agag, the king of Amalek. The prophet Shmuel confronts Shaul about this lapse and subsequently tells Shaul that he will be punished due to this sin of omission. If The Navi himself says that Shaul is punished for sparing King Agag, then how can the Midrash say that Shaul is punished for destroying the city of Nov? Rabbi Frand quotes an answer from the Sefer HaDrash VehaIyun. It is true that Shaul was punished for sparing the life of King Agag. However Shaul, or his defenders, could have justified his doing so by arguing that Shaul naturally had a soft heart. The argument could have been that Shaul was too compassionate and therefore could not bring himself to slay the Amalekite king. While such a defense would not have completely exonerated Shaul (after all, he still was in violation of a prophetic demand) it could have nonetheless mitigated his sin and softened his punishment. However the massacre at Nov shut down the possibility of any such defense. Shaul demonstrated at Nov that he did not naturally have a soft heart. His sin of sparing Agag was NOT due to an innate sense of compassion; it was completely unjustified and therefore liable for the full brunt of his deserved punishment.  This explanation is something that we need all need to seriously consider and confront in our own lives. There are times in life when we do not live up to the Torah’s expectations or even to our own expectations. Sometimes we will make a compelling excuse for why we did not live up to those expectations. The Midrash is cautioning us to be honest with ourselves about the veracity of those justifications. For instance, a person may justify not volunteering to do chesed because they claim that they have no free time. If that is indeed the case, then perhaps that is a valid justification. However if they find time to engage in leisure or social activities, then that justification becomes suspect and perhaps even an indictment. A person may explain their lack of attendance at minyan or at shiurim is due to a lack of time and conflicting responsibilities. That might be a valid justification. However if that person finds the time for other discretionary activities, like going to the gym or getting together with friends, then their justification should be reevaluated. Just as we feel a need to find the time to work out our bodies, so too we should feel the need to work out our minds and our souls. Just as we feel the need to connect to friends, so too we should feel the need to connect to Hashem and to Am Yisrael. The Torah does not expect us to be superhuman. There are times when we may be exempt from one priority due to our responsibilities towards other priorities. The Midrash at the beginning of Emor reminds us that this only works when we are honest with ourselves and when we have given serious thought to what our life priorities should be.

How We Behave When No One is Looking

 Three of the Mitzvot in Parshat Kedoshim are: 1) Do not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block in the front of the blind; 2) do not hate another person in your heart; 3) and do not have inaccurate weights and measures. At first glance there is no connection between these three prohibitions. However, upon further reflection you realize that all three of these Mitzvot are examples of prohibitions that we could violate and get away with. If I curse the deaf, he can’t hear me. The blind person cannot see who put the stumbling block in front of him. I can hate anyone in my heart without that person or anyone else ever knowing. And if I am a storekeeper and have inaccurate weights and measures, chances are that I could get away with it most of the time. There are three reasons why even if I won’t get caught, these actions are still wrong and must be avoided. First, whether I get caught or not these actions are still hurtful and harmful to the victim. By placing a stumbling block in front of the blind, I am physically hurting him. By having inaccurate weights and measures I am financially harming someone. And cursing the deaf or hating someone in my heart will have a negative impact on the way that person is treated by me and others. Second, even if no other human being catches what I did wrong, Hashem will always know. Perhaps this is why after each of these three Mitzvot the Torah reminds us: “Ani Hashem” “I am G-d”. Hashem is telling us that even if no one else knows what we did, He certainly does and will deal with us accordingly. Lastly, these actions are wrong even if I won’t get caught because of the negative impact that it will have on me. The purpose of the Mitzvot is to make me a better person. Doing a mitzva in public for all to see is a wonderful thing. But even more wonderful is when a person does a Mitzvah when no one is around to see it or to congratulate me.  At the beginning of this week’s Parsha, we read about the gifts to the poor known as Leket, Shikcha and Peah. A field owner must leave some of his crop in his field after the harvest so that poor people can come and take what they need. The field owner does not know the recipient of his charity. It’s also entirely possible that the poor who take this charity do not know who actually owns the field. To give tzedaka in a way that the giver and recipient both remain anonymous is considered by the Rambam as one of the highest forms of Tzedaka. Here again we see an example of a mitzva being performed without any fanfare, and it is considered to be one of the best ways to fulfill it. Just as it is important to perform Mitzvot in public when the spotlight is on us, so too it is important for us to appreciate the value of private and anonymous Mitzvot, when no one is looking. Just as we must be careful to avoid a public Chilul Hashem, we must also avoid bad behavior when no one is looking and when we might be able to get away with it.

Who Doesn’t Like To Celebrate a Birthday Twice?

 This year, we celebrated Yom Haatzmaut on Thursday. Today, Shabbat, is the 5th of Iyar. It was on this date in 1948 that David Ben Gurion declared the creation of the State of Israel.  

The 5th of Iyar can only fall on Monday, Wednesday, Friday or Shabbat. Initially, the Chief Rabbinate ruled that when the 5th of Iyar falls on either Friday or Shabbat, Yom Ha’atzmaut should be moved up to the preceding Thursday. Later, the Chief Rabbinate observed that whenever Yom Ha’atzmaut fell on a Monday, the preparations for Yom Hazikaron, which would begin on Saturday night, would inevitably result in chilul Shabbat. Therefore, the Chief Rabbinate decided that both Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut would be pushed off by one day. In other words, Yom Hazikaron would occur on Monday, 5 Iyar, and Yom Ha’atzmaut would take place on Tuesday, 6 Iyar. It emerges that when Yom Ha’atzmaut falls out on three out of its four possible days, it is not observed on the 5^th of Iyar. A precedent for this is Purim Meshulash. When Shushan Purim falls on Shabbat, they read the Megilah in Jerusalem on Friday and eat their Purim Seuda on Sunday, but they say Al Hanisim and read the Torah reading for Purim on Shabbat. By Purim, the essence of the day itself is not postponed. Instead, only those mitzvot which are likely to lead to chilul Shabbat are moved up or delayed. However, mitzvot which have no negative impact on Shabbat i.e. Al HaNissim and the Torah reading for Purim, are not postponed. What about by Yom Haatzmaut? Modern Poskim grapple with these considerations. In 1981, Rav Goren concluded that when Yom Ha’atzmaut falls on Friday or Shabbat, Hallel should be recited on Shabbat, because it can be without leading to chilul Shabbat. Other Rabbis did not make Rav Goren’s distinction and postponed all of the day’s mitzvot to the changed date.  What about in America? Perhaps the Diaspora should celebrate on 5 Iyar, no matter what, because there are no national celebrations that could potentially result in chilul Shabbat. On the other hand, since the holiday’s essence was derived from the Chief Rabbinate of Israel, perhaps Jews worldwide are obligated to follow the Chief Rabbinate’s ruling. Rav Gedalia Dov Schwartz, the Av Beit Din of the CRC, ruled that Yom Ha’atzmaut should be observed on the 5th of Iyar, no matter what.. Although other American Rabbis followed the Chief Rabbinate’s ruling, he felt that the reasons behind the postponement did not apply in the diaspora. Yet, when the Chief Rabbi of Israel requested that Rav Schwartz change his ruling, he did so graciously. And the Jews of Chicago followed the ruling of the Chief Rabbinate as of 2004. Here in Hollywood we said Hallel on Thursday as they did in Israel. I believe doing so is an opportunity to demonstrate the deep and intrinsic connection that we should all feel to Israel and to how Judaism is practiced there. This may be even more relevant as we reach the point where a majority of worldwide Jewry lives in Israel. In addition to its being a demonstration of Jewish unity and care for Israel, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook stressed that advancing Yom Ha’atzmaut from Shabbat to the preceding Thursday is a remarkable Kiddush Hashem. The date change indicates that the Jewish State is thereby refraining from chilul Shabbat, which is a public and prominent Kiddush Hashem. Who doesn’t like to celebrate a birthday twice? How fortunate are we to celebrate Israel’s 77^th birthday; not just on Thursday, Yom Haatzmaut, but today as well on the 5^th of Iyar.

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

Seeing the Forest of the Mishkan

 “And Betzalel, the son of Uri the son of Chur, of the tribe of Judah, did everything that Hashem had commanded Moshe.”

Rashi notes the unusual phrasing of this pasuk. It should say that Betzalel did all that Moshe commanded HIM. Or it should say that Betzalel did all that Hashem commanded HIM through Moshe. Instead it says that Betzalel did all that Hashem commanded Moshe. Rashi quotes the Gemara in Brachot that explains how Betzalel proved to Moshe his suitability for the job:

When Moshe gave Betzalel his instructions he told him to first build the Klei Hamishkan and then put together the curtains and beams that comprise the sanctuary itself. Betzalel refused on the grounds that an architect must first build the house and only then decorate the interior with furniture. Moshe was impressed with Betzalel’s refusal; in fact Hashem had commanded him to first build the Mishkan and then work on the utensils. So Betzalel defied Moshe, and in so doing fulfilled the Divine command that actually had been conveyed to Moshe.

Why did Moshe want to build the keilim before there was a location to store them? And what was this dispute really about?

According to the Midrash, at this time Betzalel was only 13 years old. Developmental psychologist will tell you that early adolescence is a time during which children test limits in a more sophisticated (almost adult) manner. They begin to demand answers to why questions, not just what and how. These two characteristics can help explain why Betzalel was adamant to build the Mishkan before the vessels, against the command of Moshe.

There’s a tremendous amount of detail involved in the building of the vessels of Mishkan, ie aron, menorah, shulchan. Moshe wanted to start with the more detailed and interesting aspects of construction. But before getting bogged down in details, it’s important to take a step back and ask: What is this all about? What am I doing here? What is my goal? Sometimes we are so focused on the details of a project or the rat race of day to day living, that we don’t take a step back to appreciate what it’s all about.

Betzalel understood this. At his age, it was at the forefront of his mind. He realized that before they built specific vessels, there needed to be a vision for the overall project. And so he worked first on building the general structure of the Mishkan. Only then did he turn his attention to the specific vessels, each with their own specifications, each with their own meaning and lessons.
Sometimes we get so bogged down in the details of life that we don’t have a chance to look at the big picture: What am I trying to accomplish? What are my goals? Why am I doing what I am doing? Betzalel the Bar Mitzvah boy understood the importance of addressing these issues. He understood that we must first define our goal. The purpose of the mishkan was to have sacred space in this world dedicated to G-dliness and Jewish unity. So he began his efforts on the actual sanctuary and then moved on to the individual components of that vision.

Betzalel taught us two important lessons: 1) Never lose sight of the big picture 2) and be prepared to reevaluate and refine that big picture on an ongoing basis. Betzalel’s approach was ultimately endorsed by Moshe; for he called him B’tzel Kel, “one who dwells in the shadow of God”. Betzalel’s approach was endorsed by G-d, his building project was successful, and our Parsha ends with God’s presence dwelling in the mishkan.

We too must do our best to be mindful of the big picture and make sure to revisit it on an ongoing basis. By doing so, we can also benefit from the blessing described as the culmination of the Mishkan construction: The Divine presence and Hashem’s blessings permeating our lives.

Vote Slate 5 in the World Zionist Congress Elections

Dear Friends:

Every five years, the World Zionist Organization (WZO), one of the most influential

organizations in the Jewish world, of which 30% is controlled by US Jewry, holds a

crucial election.

This election, which runs from March 10, through May 4, gives American Jews the

opportunity to vote for representatives in the World Zionist Congress. The number of

seats a slate receives directly impacts leadership decisions, policies, and the allocation

of over $1 billion annually toward Jewish education, aliyah, security, and other vital

causes.

We are proud to both be members of the National Board of RZA: Religious Zionists of

America, the US affiliate of Mizrachi. We are also proud to both be candidates on the

Orthodox Israel Coalition (OIC) slate seeking election to the World Zionist Congress.

We strongly encourage our members, and all Jews over age 18, to vote for Orthodox

Israel Coalition (OIC) Mizrachi, slate #5. Coalition partners include RZA-Mizrachi, YU,

OU, RCA, Amit, Bnei Akiva, NCYI, Touro University, and Sephardic organizations such

as Shvilim and UMJCA.

Your vote will ensure that our Religious Zionist voice is heard. An authentic Torah voice

of integration and unity: integration between Judaism and Zionism; Torah learning and

army service; between Torah u’Madda; and balancing Israel and Diaspora needs.

YOUR VOTE FOR OIC-MIZRACHI HELPS US STRENGTHEN ISRAEL AND

RELIGIOUS ZIONISM BY:

 Supporting our Chayalim and Milluim families 

 Rebuilding devastated Israeli communities 

 Bringing volunteer missions to Israel 

 Creating JLIC communities on campuses in the U.S and Israel

 Providing shlichim from Israel to American schools 

 Supporting Yeshivot & Midrashot financially & educationally 

 Providing Torah based Zionist Educational resources in Israel and abroad 

 Promoting Aliyah & Love for Israel 

 Fighting Antisemitism on campuses worldwide

 Building bridges to unite the Jewish People

All Jewish American residents who are 18 (by June 30, 2025) can vote. There is a voter

registration fee of $5.00. Go here to register and vote: www.voteoic.org

Please share this link with your family and friends.

We believe it is critical for our Religious Zionist community to vote for Slate 5 OIC

Mizrachi and to encourage our friends and family to do so as well.

Thank you,

Rabbi Yosef Weinstock & Lisa Baratz

Purim and Yom Kippurim

The Zohar suggests that there is a connection between the holiday of Purim and Yom Kippur, which in the Torah is called Yom HaKippurim. At first glance the two days are as different as can be. Yom Kippur is a solemn day of fasting, while Purim is a joyous day of feasting. Yet upon closer examination one will note a number of similarities. First, both holidays commemorate the drawing of lots. In Megillat Esther we read how Haman chose the date on which to annihilate the Jewish People by drawing lots. In the Torah we read how on Yom Kippur the Kohen Gadol would draw lots to determine the fate of the two identical goats: one would be offered LaHashem as a sacrifice on the Mizbeaich, while the other goat, La’Azazel, would be thrown off a cliff in the Judean wilderness. Second, both Purim and Yom Kippur are specially mentioned as being “forever” holidays. Midrash Mishlei teaches (9:1): “All of the holidays are to be nullified in the future but the days of Purim will not be nullified, as it is stated: “And these days of Purim will not be rescinded from the Jews.” (Esther 9:28).  Rabbi Elazar said: Also Yom Kippur will forever not be nullified, as it is stated, “And it will be to you for an everlasting statute to atone for the Children of Israel from all of their sins once a year.” (Vayikra 16:34). Perhaps this Midrash is teaching us that we will always need opportunities to feel God’s Presence in an acute and poignant way, like on Yom Kippur, but also in a more ambiguous and hidden way, such as in the Purim story. Lastly, both holidays focus on standing before a royal figure. In Megilat Esther we read how Esther risked her life by appearing before the king in his inner sanctum without an invitation. And Yom Kippur was the one day of the year on which the Kohen Gadol would enter into the inner sanctum of the Beit Hamikdash. The Kodesh Hakodoshim is understood to be the location in which the Presence of Hashem, the King of kings, was most imminently perceived. This royal connection between Purim and Yom Kippur is appreciated more in light of the tradition that while God’s name is nowhere in the Megillah, it is alluded to through every mention of “the king”. While on a literal level the king in the Megilah is Achashverosh, on a deeper level we are supposed to recognize the role that Hashem plays behind the scenes throughout the Purim story. The Talmud (Shabbat 88) teaches that since at Sinai the Jewish People accepted the Torah under a degree of duress, it was important for us to accept the Torah a second time- which is what happened in the Purim story and is alluded to in the Megilah by the words “kiymu v’’kiblu” “The Jews ordained and took upon themselves” which is understood to mean “the Jews ordained (on Purim) what they had already taken upon themselves (at Sinai).” Yom Kippur commemorates a second receiving of the Luchot. In this week’s Parsha we read how Moshe broke the first Luchot in response to the sin of the golden calf. 120 days later Moshe came down with the second set of tablets- on Yom Kippur. While the first Luchot were “written by God” the second were written by Moshe. Hashem is teaching us that if we want something to be permanent and to remain important to us, then we must invest our energies into it. This is also the lesson of Purim. Unlike most other holidays, where Hashem did most of the work and performed miracles, Purim commemorates a story in which human beings took the risks, took the initiative, and exhibit bravery and self-sacrifice. Purim and Yom Kippur are forever holidays because they both celebrate human effort and human initiative. Whether it is our relationships, our professions, our shul, or our Jewish identity, we love and treasure those things in which we invest and toil. 

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.