Jul 4, 2025 | Torat Devorah
“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, ‘You and your brother Aaron take the rod and assemble the community, and before their very eyes order the rock to yield its water. Thus you shall produce water for them from the rock and provide drink for the congregation and their beasts.’ ” – Numbers 20:7-8.
The Torah portion Chukat is long and varied, containing many interesting and dramatic narratives, including strife in the wilderness, the decree that Moshe will not enter the Land, and the deaths of Miriam and Aharon. The beginning of chapter 20 relates the famous story of “striking the rock,” with the resultant terrible decree on Moshe, who was apparently supposed to speak to the rock when the people cry out for water, as in the verse above. Instead, he struck it with his staff, and is told that he will never enter the Land.
There is a fascinating midrash related to what Moshe was ostensibly supposed to do when the people cried out for water, and there were only rocks around them. The late medieval commentator known as the Or HaChaim (from his famous book of that title) quotes an earlier text to which interprets “order the rock” [literally, “speak to the rock before their eyes”] as “study Torah by the rock,” or maybe even to teach Torah to the rock itself! The text says that Moshe should have spoken just “a single paragraph” to the stone. Given that rocks, unlike people, don’t have ears to hear or minds to understand, what could this possibly mean?
Rabbi Neal Joseph Loevinger explains: “The verse itself is clear that Moshe was supposed to speak to the rock, not just whack it with a stick, but the image of studying Torah by- or with- the rock suggests that the better way to get water from a rock is a more meditative approach, rather than frantic action. This is not about a miracle of hydrology, it’s about what it takes to draw out from others something deep and nourishing: first, go to your innermost core, reminding yourself of your deepest ideals and sense of connection. Then, speak words of Torah- that is, words which are grounded in our best selves, our most authentic ethical and spiritual traditions and paradigms. That’s how you draw out something sustaining when the community is “dry” of ideas, hopes, and vision. “Speaking Torah to the rock” can mean: Moshe, if you’re swinging sticks around when the people are scared, go back to your own source of innermost meaning- study some Torah so that you act from a place of spiritual intentionality, not negativity, resentment or anger towards the people. Dealing with human beings- stubborn, stiff-necked and complaining, as all of us are, at least some of the time- often requires a reorientation of our attitude before we can be effective agents of hope and care. Even Moshe had to remember who he was- a teacher, a leader, a lover of Israel, grounded in sacred ideals- before he could give others what they needed. It’s no great failing to want to strike the rock; we fail only ourselves when in haste we forget to slow down and take in Torah and its vision of compassionate humanity.”
The red heifer plays a central role in the process of purifying someone who becomes “tamei”, i.e., spiritually tainted. A Jew becomes tamei when he or she comes into contact with a corpse, and as long as you are tamei you may not enter the Holy Temple in Jerusalem (Bamidbar 19:13,21). However, this condition is treatable. A red heifer is slaughtered and burned, and its ashes are used to create a mystical potion with purifying powers. A kohen sprinkles the contaminated Jew with the red heifer ash mixture and the Jew then returns to a normal state of tahara, i.e. spiritual purity (19:1-12). (Obviously, these laws have been out of use ever since the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE.) This procedure is hard enough to understand, but here’s the clincher: The kohen who administers the sprinkling becomes tamei! The very same process that purifies the contaminated Jew contaminates the kohen (19:21). Several great medieval rabbis independently compiled listings of the 613 biblical mitzvot. But the most innovative of these works is undoubtedly the Chinuch (anonymous, 13th century). Besides the basic listing, the Chinuch also speculates about the meaning and purpose of every mitzvah. This makes for a fascinating blend of law, ethics, and philosophy.When it comes to the red heifer, however, the Chinuch throws in the towel. “Although my heart emboldened me to write hints of the reasons for the other mitzvot… when it comes to this mitzvah my hand goes weak and I am frightened to open my mouth about it at all. For I have seen how our sages of blessed memory wrote at length of its deep mysteries and the vastness of its theme…” (Chinuch, mitzvah 397). Rabbi Yaakov Kamanetzky (1891-1986) questions the Chinuch’s nervous reaction to the red heifer. The Chinuch knew that all mitzvot are ultimately beyond our understanding. Mortals can’t expect to fathom the myriad of divine reasons for mitzvot. Although we certainly do appreciate the beauty and relevance of every mitzvah, we need to remember that we are only dipping beneath the surface of great depths of meaning. As the Chinuch himself admits, his explanations of the mitzvot are no more than surface level interpretations. He never claimed that his suggestions were all there is to it. So why won’t the Chinuch provide us with some insights into the red heifer? If he managed to supply a reason or a message for each of 612 other mitzvot in the Torah, why not finish the job? Rabbi Kamanetzky explains that the Chinuch did not at all give up when it came to the red heifer. He indeed does reveal its message. The red heifer’s message is the very fact that it is completely unknowable. This is a fundamental principle for all of Torah. There comes a point with every mitzvah where we must recognize that our human minds are limited. There is more to this world than we can ever know. There is a spiritual reality.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jun 27, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In Ethics of the Fathers 5:17 it states: ‘Every controversy that is pursued in a heavenly cause, is destined to be perpetuated; and that which is not pursued in a heavenly cause is not destined to be perpetuated. Which can be considered a controversy pursued in a heavenly cause? This is the controversy of Hillel and Shammai. And that not pursued in a heavenly cause? This is the controversy of Korach and his congregation.’
Since this week’s parshah focuses on Korach and his assembly rallying against Moses and Aaron in the belief that they are worthy of more distinctive roles as Israelites. In discussing controversies, the Malbim draws an interesting and penetrating distinction between two different kinds of controversies. He explains: ‘Our Sages wished to point out that in a holy or heavenly cause both sides are, in fact, united by one purpose, to further unselfish, Divine ends. However, in a controversy pursued for unholy ends and for personal advancements and the like, then even those who have come together on one side are not really united. Each are governed by their own calculations of what they stand to gain and are ready to cut each other’s throats, if it so serves their interests. This was the case as far as the controversy of Korach and his congregation. Korach was interested in High Priesthood, since he contended that Amram had received the firstborn share as the eldest son of Kehat, in the fact that his son, Moses, had been appointed leader and king over the people. It was therefore only right, so Korach claimed, that the High Priesthood be given to himself as the son of Yitzhar, the next in line of succession. Dathan and Aviram and On ben Peleth, on the other hand, were animated by their considerations in their opposition to Moses. Their grievance lay in the fact that they belonged to the tribe of Reuben who, as the firstborn son of Jacob, was entitled to all the highest offices – that of spiritual and political leadership. Instead, they complained that the priesthood and Divine service had been given to the tribe of Levi and leadership of the tribes to Judah and Joseph. Similarly, the 250 men contended that, as they were “princes of the assembly, famous in the congregation, men of renown”, they should be accorded the priesthood. They were against conferring a hereditary title on a tribe but asserted that individual prestige and distinction should be considered. Ibn Ezra suggests that these 250 rebels were in actuality firstborn who considered that the priesthood was their natural privilege.
Moses, in response, said the following statement to all those who had rallied against himself and Aaron: “Through this shall you know that God has sent me to perform these acts; that it was not from my heart” (Numbers 16:28). The Alshekh comments that it would be totally out of character for a man like Moses who always defended his people, even the sinners, to now announce an especially cruel fate for Korach and his associates. He therefore prefaces his announcement and the impending punishment of the rebels by explaining that only in this way could the fact that he had not appointed himself to a position of leadership be demonstrated. Just as his own appointment had been through supernatural power, so the death of the challengers would occur through supernatural power. When a body has been invaded by cancer or some other deadly disease, only the surgical removal of the infected part of the body can stave off total disaster. In this instance too, only the excision of these rebels could prevent the rebellion from infecting the whole nation with fatal results. Theirs was a spiritual disease; the disbelief in the Divine nature of Moses’ prophecy. Moses therefore made the point that the very death of the rebels represented the greatest act of mercy by God, since it saved mankind.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jun 20, 2025 | Torat Devorah
The Torah records in Parshat Shelach, that when Israel left Mt. Sinai, they traveled for three consecutive days, and describes how Israel began to grumble at the inconvenience. The urgency in moving them quickly was based on God’s desire to lead Israel into the land of Israel as quickly as possible, and his motives were dictated by the boundless love that he bore His chosen people, whom He wanted to see settled in the chosen land without delay. Yet that is not what they perceived. They grumbled because of the travails of the journey. Doubtlessly, they ascribed to Hashem an indifference to their well-being and comfort, as indeed we find on other occasions, when they accused Him of taking them out of Egypt without caring as to what happened to them (and worse). And the same is probably true of the complaint that follows immediately, when they grumbled that they were sick of the manna.
In this week’s Parshah too, the spies discovered that wherever they went, a plague struck down the Cana’anim and they were dying in large numbers. They concluded that the air of the land of Israel was unhealthy and prone to breeding plagues. They failed to see (or perhaps they did not want to see), that the Divine Hand was at work, protecting them, preventing their discovery by keeping the Cana’anim too busy to notice them, or at least, to be concerned with their presence. In this way, Hashem reckoned, they would be able to go about spying the land without hindrance. Yet they misconstrued Hashem’s chesed, mistaking His loving care for hatred. The verse in Devarim (1:20) describes how Israel grumbled that night in their tents, how they declared that it was due to God’s hatred of Israel that He took them out of Egypt, to deliver them into the hands of the Ammorites to destroy them. In fact, Rashi comments, He loved them, and it was they who hated Him! And he goes on to quote a famous folk-saying ‘What a person thinks about his friend, he believes that his friend thinks about him’. Presumably, this saying is based on the verse in “ke’Mayim ha’ponim le’ponim” (Mishlei 27:19).
The Zohar attributes the spies’ prejudice to the fear that, once they entered Israel, the old constitution would end, and a new era would begin, incorporating new leaders, who would replace them. Presumably, that is also what prompted them to renounce Hashem as a hater. In order to misconstrue Hashem’s motives in His interrelationship with us, it is not necessary to be guided by personal prejudices (though it does help). All that is needed is a lack of appreciation: a) of Hashem’s extreme goodness; b) of the fact that He loves all his people, and c) the extent of that love.
And you shall not go astray after your hearts and after your eyes… and you will be holy to your God” (ibid.). In spite of the fact that the Torah is addressing people who are prone to serve idols and to commit adultery, the verse nevertheless concludes with an injunction to be holy. It appears, remarked the Chofetz Chayim that no matter how low a Jew sinks, the Torah not only considers him capable of pulling himself out of the mire and of becoming a holy person, but that it actually expects him to do just that. But one could also explain the verse, not so much to stress the potential of a Jew, but to stress the power of mitzvot in general, and the mitzvah of Tzitzis in particular. Man’s body comprises the same components as an animal – to whose level he can sink without much effort. His soul has the make-up of an angel – to whose level he can rise, but only through hard work. To achieve this, God gave us the medium of mitzvot. What the Torah is teaching us here is that the mitzvot in general, and above all, the mitzvah of Tzitzis, will not only prevent us from sinking to the level of an animal (which instinctively follows its heart and eyes), but even have the power to raise us to the greatest heights, to make us holy like the angels.
Devorah Abenhaim
Jun 17, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s Parsha we learn of many exciting moments at the inauguration of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, in the desert. It begins with the laws of lighting the menorah in the Mishkan, and later in the Beit Hamikdash. Keep in mind that this mitzvah sets up another one much later in history, the mitzvah of Chanukah. The parsha then discusses the purification process of the Leviim allowing them to serve in the Mishkan.
There is an interesting comment by our Sages on a phrase that frequently repeats itself in this week’s parsha. Yet, in this week’s parsha the phrase or one similar to it appears plenty of times. After reviewing the laws of lighting the menorah in the Beit Hamikdash, the Torah states, “And Aharon did so.” Our Sages comment that this was stated to tell us that Aharon did not deviate from anything that Hashem commanded. We are told the same description regarding the inauguration process of the Leviim. After the Torah describes the service, our Sages comment that the Leviim did not stray from one command. Although we often see this comment, in our parsha we find it specifically in relation to Aharon. When Moshe was named the leader of the Jewish people – thereby replacing Aharon – Our Sages relate how Aharon went out and met Moshe with joy and not jealousy. When Aharon’s sons offer up a strange service and die by God’s hand, our Sages point out that the Torah specified that Aharon accepted the sentence and did not cry out in protest.
Why does the Torah stress specifically Aharon’s devotion and following of the mitzvoth? To answer this question let us state a rule in analysis of the Torah. When a point is stressed, it is done so to preempt an opposite idea. It would seem that Aharon’s devotion is stressed because we might have thought that his devotion was lacking. Why would we have thought that Aharon’s commitment was to be questioned? Aharon made one mistake in life, and that was the sin of the golden calf. His good intentions did not end up as he had hoped and the people thought that with his permission they could worship an idol. If one would analyze Aharon’s actions, they could come to the conclusion that Aharon had a tendency towards avodah zara, that his sin was not completely unintentional. The Torah wants us to understand that this is not true. Aharon slipped once, and it was a limited mistake. Except for that one episode, Aharon was the ideal Jew.
There are times where someone we know makes a mistake. They wrong us. It could even have been intentional. It hurts us; it upsets us, and even angers us. The person then asks for forgiveness. We know the proper thing to do is to forgive. It is in our nature to forgive, we are forbidden from holding grudges. Yet, it is difficult to look over, the wrong perpetrated against us. Every time we see that person we relive the hurt and the anger. We might even tell the person that we forgive him, but deep down, we are still bearing that grudge. This week’s parsha tells us to let it go and forgive. We must overlook the insults, the difficult moments in our relationships and understand that although people make mistakes and that they have faults, they are overall good people and deserve our forgiveness.
In the Torah portion of Beha’alotcha there appears a phenomenon that is found in no other place in the entire Tanach – two sentences are bracketed by two backwards facing Hebrew letters, nuns, as a way to set them apart from the rest of the text. “And when the ark would journey, Moses said: ‘Arise God and let your enemies be scattered, and let those that hate You flee from before You.’ And when it [the ark] rested he would say: ‘Rest peacefully God among the myriad thousands of Israel” (Numbers 10:35-36). The first sentence is recited in synagogues around the world when the ark is opened and the Torah removed for public readings, and the second sentence is recited when the Torah is placed once again in the ark.
Rashi, quoting the Talmud, (Shabbat 115b-116a) explains that these two sentences are set apart due to the fact that they are not in their natural chronological place. Rabbi Avraham Arieh Trugman comments: ‘This alone would not seem sufficient reason as Rashi tells us many times that various events recorded in the Torah are not in a sequential order. What then, according to the Talmud, is the reason that they appear here? Rashi informs us: in order to separate between a series of sins which occurred in the desert. The Talmud continues by stating that these two sentences actually are considered an entirely separate book! In this manner the five books of Moses are actually seven, as this two sentence book actually divides the book of Numbers into three books.
As with all verses, mitzvot and stories in the Torah, there are multilevels of understanding, especially when there is a one time phenomenon such as inverted letters that create a separate book of just two sentences.
The Slonimer Rebbe quotes a Torah from the Maggid of Koznitch who suggests that the ark represents a Torah scholar who is compared to an ark containing the Torah. The Torah has been so integrated into his being that he is like a “walking Torah scroll.” The word for “journey” in our verse shares the same root as the word for “test.” Therefore, anytime the ark, in this case a Torah scholar, journeys, it is inevitable that he will face challenges and tests. The Slonimer explains that this idea really applies to every person who wants to journey from one spiritual level to a higher, more refined level of consciousness, which is the ultimate goal of Torah and mitzvot.’
Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 21, 2025 | Torat Devorah
Six days shall you accomplish your activities, and on the seventh day you shall desist… and your maidservant’s son and the sojourner may be refreshed.” (23:12)
Possibly one of the least understood areas of Shabbat observance is amira l’akum — hinting to a non-Jew to do something for a Jew that the Jew him or herself cannot do because of Shabbat. The basic premise of this prohibition is to preserve the other-worldly quality of Shabbat, for it would be all too easy to employ a non-Jew to continue one’s weekday activities without contravening a single Torah law. In other words, you could turn Shabbat into Saturday. For example, many people assume that if the circuit breaker trips and the lights go out at the Shabbat night meal one could hint to a non-Jew to turn them on again. This is not true. Except in certain specific cases, a Jew on Shabbat may not receive any direct benefit from the melacha (forbidden Shabbat action) of a non-Jew. There are many people who would never dream of allowing a cheeseburger to cross the portals of their dwelling (let alone the portals of their lips) but would cheerfully hint to the maid to turn the lights on on Shabbat Ignoring this prohibition, however, can lead to dire consequences — and not just in the world-to-come.
Rabbi David Ribiat relates the following story: Around the year 1800, there was a large fire in the city of Maerkisch-Friedland. Much of the Jewish quarter was destroyed and many homes had to be rebuilt. Rabbi Akiva Eiger, the rabbi of the city, issued a proclamation advising those rebuilding their homes to stipulate in their contracts with the builders that no work should be done on Shabbat or Yom Tov. The community was united in its observance of Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s degree, with one exception. The president of the community, who was extremely wealthy, wanted his house rebuilt as quickly as possible, and instructed his workers to work non-stop through Shabbat and Yom Tov. The protestations of the community and even the Rabbi himself fell on deaf ears, and the work proceeded unabated. Shocked by this flagrant breach of Halacha, Rabbi Akiva Eiger was heard to say that he did not expect the house to last very long.
Not only was the president’s house the first to be completed; it was undoubtedly the finest of the new homes.
Not long afterwards, and without any previous warning, one of the beams of the president’s mansion suddenly crashed to the ground. A subsequent investigation revealed that the beam was riddled with timber decay. Not only this, but the wooden frame of the mansion was similarly affected and the entire structure had to be demolished. A check was made of all the other re-built buildings, but not one of them showed the slightest inclination to dry rot. The engineers were at a loss to explain why only this particular house, built at the same time and from the same timber supply, was affected. The Jews of Maerkisch-Friedland, however, were in no doubt about the answer to this puzzling enigma.
Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 14, 2025 | Torat Devorah
The revelation at Mount Sinai – the central episode not only of the parshah of Yitro, but of Judaism as a whole was unique in the religious history of mankind. Other faiths (Christianity and Islam) have claimed to be religions of revelation, but in both cases the revelation of which they spoke was to an individual (“the son of God”, “the prophet of God”). Only in Judaism was God’s self-disclosure not to an individual (a prophet) or a group (the elders) but to an entire nation, young and old, men, women and children, the righteous and not yet righteous alike. From the very outset, the people of Israel knew something unprecedented had happened at Sinai. As Moses put it, forty years later: “Ask now about the former days, long before your time, from the day God created man on earth; ask from one end of the heavens to the other. Has anything so great as this ever happened, or has anything like it ever been heard of? Has any other people heard the voice of God speaking out of fire, as you have, and lived? (Deut. 4: 32-33).”
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explains: “For the great Jewish thinkers of the Middle Ages, the significance was primarily epistemological. It created certainty and removed doubt. The authenticity of a revelation experienced by one person could be questioned. One witnessed by millions could not. God disclosed His presence in public to remove any possible suspicion that the presence felt, and the voice heard, were not genuine.Looking however at the history of mankind since those days, it is clear that there was another significance also – one that had to do not with religious knowledge but with politics. At Sinai a new kind of nation was being formed and a new kind of society – one that would be an antithesis of Egypt in which the few had power and the many were enslaved. At Sinai, the children of Israel ceased to be a group of individuals and became, for the first time, a body politic: a nation of citizens under the sovereignty of God whose written constitution was the Torah and whose mission was to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”
In Exodus 20:15, the Torah states: “And the people saw the voices”. The obvious question asked is how does a person ‘see’ a voice? Midrash Lekach Tov and Rashi explain that the Israelites saw what is ordinarily heard, and heard what is ordinarily seen. The Lubavitcher Rebbe expounds on this idea as follows: “As physical beings, we “see” physical reality. On the other hand, Godliness and spirituality is only something that is “heard” — it can be discussed, perhaps even assimilated to some extent, but not experienced first hand. At the revelation at Sinai, we “saw what is ordinarily heard” — we experienced the divine as an immediate, tangible reality. On the other hand, that which is ordinarily “seen” — the material world — was something merely “heard,” to be accepted or rejected at will.
Why was Moshe so close to his father – in – law, a heathen priest, that the Parsha of the Divine Revelation bears his name? It is almost as if Moshe in his greatest moment of glory takes a back seat so that Yitro can be in the limelight. Even before Moshe leaves Midian to return to Egypt to start his mission he requests permission from Yitro. “Moshe left and returned to his father in law, Jethro. I would like to leave and return to my people in Egypt… Go in peace, said Jethro”(4:18). It is almost as if the redemption was dependent on Yitro’s good wishes. This is all the more startling if we accept the Midrashic teaching that Yitro was actually one of Pharaoh’s advisors and was actually bothered by the destruction of Egypt. Rabbi Jay Kelman comments: It appears that Moshe ‘s indebtedness to Yitro can be explained by Moshe’s tremendous feelings of gratitude toward Yitro. Moshe, after killing an Egyptian who was attacking a Jew, is forced to flee Egypt. Where was he to go? Moshe fled to Midian, stopping at the well presumably evaluating his limited options. Seeing an injustice perpetrated against a group of young women, he rises to their defence and risking further problems, draws water for them. Thinking only of their good fortune and not wanting to risk revenge, the women leave him there and go home. Yitro, their father, would not accept such ingratitude. “Where is he now? He asked his daughter. Why did you abandon the stranger? Call him, and let him have something to eat.” (3:20). Yitro, at least in Moshe’s mind had saved his life. Furthermore he gave him his daughter as a wife. A man who would welcome a stranger into his home and care for him is one who merits association with revelation.
Devorah Abenhaim
