Jun 11, 2018 | Torat Devorah
An interesting theme runs through the end of last week’s parsha, Naso, and the beginning of this week’s, Beha’alotcha. At the end of Naso, the נשיאים – the heads of the twelve tribes of Israel, approach Moshe with an unasked-for gift – wagons, and oxen to pull them, for carrying the Tabernacle and its vessels. After Moshe is instructed by God to accept the gifts, and give them to the Levites, whose job it is to transport the Tabernacle, the heads of the tribes approach Moshe again, with another unasked-for contribution: a series of dedicatory sacrifices for the new Tabernacle, which are also accepted.
Rabbi Shimon Felix comments: ‘What happens next, at the beginning of Beha’alotcha, is interesting. Aharon, the high priest, is told by God how to light the Menorah in the Tabernacle. The Rabbis try to understand why this story follows the story of the tribal heads and their gifts, and come up with a fascinating scenario. When Aharon saw the voluntary gifts being brought by the leaders, he lamented his religious status, feeling that his ritual activity is inferior to their contributions. Now, this is a bit strange coming from the high priest, who has lots of important ritual to do every day, all year long, in the Tabernacle. Nachmanides clarifies his jealousy by explaining that what upset Aharon is the voluntary nature of the act of the leaders. They brought offerings which were not asked for, while Aharon is called upon to simply follow instructions; there is no creativity, no personal statement, no innovation, in what he does as high priest. That is why he’s jealous.
According to Nachmanides, God reassures him with the ritual of lighting the Menorah because that hints at the volunteerism of Aharon’s descendants, the Macabbees, who, centuries later, will step up to fight the Greeks and reclaim and rededicate the Temple, miraculously rekindling the Menorah in the process. That act of volunteerism, of stepping up and doing something that is not specifically demanded of them, is at least as good as, if not better than, the innovative and unasked-for gifts of the tribal leaders. What is fascinating in all this is the stress on finding one’s own unique, personal contribution to religious life. The heads of the tribes wanted to stand out, and contribute something to the Tabernacle which had not been given by anyone else; that was the impetus behind their innovative gifts. Aharon was jealous of that dynamic, and dissatisfied with the obedient, rote, by-the-numbers nature of his religious activity. He is reassured by the promise of a voluntary, from-the-heart act to be done by his descendants in the future: the Hasmonean rebellion against the Greeks, their rededication of the Temple, and their lighting of the Menorah. Many years ago, one of my wonderful teachers, Rabbi Nosson Kaminetzky, pointed out that with this phrase we each ask for our own חלק – our own, personal, unique, piece of the Torah, our own understanding, our own path, in our religious lives. This is what we are meant to strive for in our lives as Jews – to be alive to the possibilities and opportunities to carve out our own חלק – our own share – of Jewish life, meaning, and ritual. Just as the tribal leaders and Aharon looked for, yearned for, ways to make a personal imprint on Jewish life, so, too, we are told to ask for our own, personal, piece of the Torah, something that comes from us, reflects who we are, and celebrates our understanding of God’s will in the world.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 25, 2018 | Torat Devorah
In Parashat Naso, Hashem commands Moshe to teach Birkat Kohanim to Aharon and his sons. The third verse of Birkat Kohanim reads, “May Hashem lift His face towards you (yisa Hashem panav eilecha) and give you peace.” (Bamidbar 6:26) The Hebrew phrase nesi’ut panim – lifting the face – is interpreted in numerous ways. Chazal explain that it involves G-d granting favor to Israel, or, more specifically, treating them with favoritism. For this reason, the verses of Birkat Kohanim are read but not translated during kriat haTorah in the synagogue (as other verses were, according to the practice at the time of the Gemara), so that the listeners would not be confused by the concept that G-d favors one nation. (Megillah 25b) The idea that Hashem shows favoritism, however, is more than confusing; it directly contradicts another pasuk in the Torah: “For Hashem your G-d is the G-d of all power, and Master of all masters, the great, mighty, and awesome G-d who shows no favoritism (lo yisa panim) and takes no bribes.” (Devarim
10:17) Indeed, the Gemara itself is puzzled by this contradiction: “The ministering angels said before the Holy One, Blessed be He, Master of the Universe! It is written in your Torah, ‘[He] shows no favoritism and takes no bribes,’ yet behold You favor Israel, as it is written, ‘May Hashem lift His face towards you!’ He answered them, Should I not favor Israel, for whom I wrote in the Torah, ‘You shall eat and be satisfied and bless Hashem your G-d,’ yet they are careful about themselves for a kezayit and a kebeitzah [i.e., they bless even after eating less than is necessary to be satiated]?!”
The Gemara’s explanation seems to be that G-d certainly does favor Israel, but they deserve this special treatment because of their willingness to do more than the law demands. But how does that answer the question? Despite Israel’s righteousness which makes G-d want to favor them, the pasuk nonetheless states that Hashem does not show favoritism!
Rabbi Scott Kahn explains: ‘One possible answer is based on the important idea that G-d acts toward us in the way that we act toward Him. In a real sense, we create the framework in which we live. In the words of the Chafetz Chaim, “It is known that according to how a person directs his attributes in this world, he correspondingly arouses G-d’s attributes in the world above. If his way is to ignore slights and to act with kindness and mercy towards people, he correspondingly arouses the attribute of mercy above, and the Holy One, Blessed be He, has mercy on the world because of him. and he merits also that the Holy One, Blessed be He, has mercy on him and ignores his sins.” (Shmirat HaLashon, Shaar HaZechira, Perek Sheini)
Thus, G-d’s favoritism – that is, going beyond the demands of strict justice – is a direct result of Israel’s willingness to do more than the law demands. The verse stating that G-d does not show favoritism refers to a normal case that demands justice. Israel does more than G-d’s law demands, however, so G-d acts toward Israel beyond the letter of the law. That is, in its own way, an aspect of justice.
Birkat Kohanim, the priestly blessing, is also found in this parshah. The Kli Yakar, at the end of his comment, states the following: “And by way of remez – a hint – it is possible to explain this by way of the Midrash mentioned in Parshat Yitro which states that at first G-d called Bnei Yisrael a daughter; then He called them a sister; and finally He called them a mother”. The Kli Yakar goes on to explain that the first of the three verses of the Birkat Kohanim refers to the relationship wherein Yisrael is G-d’s daughter. As the text of the Blessing states: “G-d will bless you and watch over you”. According to the Kli Yakar, watching over speaks of a fatherly relationship. The second verse, “G-d will shine His face to you, eilecha, implies being on equal ground. Finally, “G-d will raise, yisa, his face to you” implies that G-d, in a manner of speaking, is lower and is looking up to Yisrael. Rabbi Pesach Wolicki comments: The meaning of this cryptic passage is all too powerful. G-d depends on Bnei Yisrael for His presence to be felt in this world. In the early part of the relationship – think of the Exodus and all that happens in the Torah – G-d is doing all of the work. He demands very little participation of the Jewish people. But this is not the ultimate purpose of creation. Ultimately, we, G-d’s chosen people, are responsible to do the bulk of the work on our own. G-d – so to speak – follows our lead. If we bring G-d’s presence into the world then He is present and felt. If, G-d forbid, we do not, then he is absent. G-d’s eyes are turned toward us. We have received the Torah on Shavuot. We must devote our energies to making the dream a reality so that through our actions the whole world will come to recognize the presence and glory of G-d.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 18, 2018 | Torat Devorah
“And God spoke to Moses in the Sinai desert” (Numbers 1:1). Rabbi Ron Jawary comments:’ King David teaches us that a “good person will blossom like a palm tree”. One of the reasons a good person is compared specifically to a palm tree is that it is the only tree that will produce fruit in a desert. Its roots are so deep that it can draw water from deep under the ground. So too, a truly good person is able to do what is right, not because it’s the norm in the society in which he happens to live, but because it is what’s right. In every circumstance and situation, he will draw from his deep roots; he will blossom and produce fruits — even in a desert. This is really what the Jewish people are all about: our roots are so deep, reaching all the way back to Abraham and Sarah, that wherever we have gone, we have managed to draw from those roots and bring blessings into the world. Just look at Israel before 1948 and afterwards! That is why Jews bring flowers into their homes on Shavuot. It is the day we stood in the desert to receive the Torah, and the flowers are to remind us that wherever we allow God and His Torah to enter, life blossoms — even in the midst of a desert.’
“From the age of twenty and upward, all who are fit to serve in the army of Israel, you shall count them (1:1)” Moses’ census of the Jewish people, defined as a count of “all who are fit to serve in the army of Israel,” included only those who were “from the age of twenty and upwards.” What is the significance of this requirement? The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains: ‘The fifth chapter of Ethics of the Fathers includes an outline of the phases of a person’s education and life: “At five years of age, the study of Scripture; at ten, the study of Mishnah; at thirteen, the obligation to observe the mitzvot; at fifteen, the study of Talmud; at eighteen, marriage; at twenty begins the pursuit [of a livelihood]; at thirty, one attains strength; at forty, understanding; at fifty, one can give counsel . . .” In other words, the first twenty years of a person’s life represent those periods and areas of his life in which he focuses almost exclusively on his individual growth: the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom, and his moral and spiritual development. “Twenty” represents the point at which he ventures out to the world and begins to concern himself with the material involvements of life. Therein lies the deeper significance of G‑d’s instruction to Moses that only “from the age of twenty and upwards” shall a person be counted as one “fit to serve in the army of Israel.” A period of intense self-development and spiritual self-enrichment is a necessary preparation to life, but it must not be seen as an end in itself. The purpose of the “pre-twenty” times and aspects of a person’s life is for the sake of the “pursuit” which must follow: that he or she go out into the world and apply his personal attainments to the development and sanctification of the material reality. One who does not graduate to the “post-twenty” phase of life cannot count himself as a member of the “army of Israel.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 11, 2018 | Torat Devorah
And Hashem spoke to Moshe at Mount Sinai saying: Speak to Bnai Yisrael and say to them, “when you come to the land that I am giving to you, you should rest the land. It is a Sabbath to Hashem.” (VaYikra 25:1-2)
Rabbi Bernie Fox explains: ‘Our parasha discusses the laws of Shemitah. The Shemitah year is observed in the Land of Israel every seven years. The Shemitah is a Sabbatical year. The land cannot be worked. The produce that is produced without cultivation is shared by everyone.The first passage of the parasha explains that the laws of Shemitah were given to Moshe at Sinai. The commentaries are concerned with this comment. Why does the Torah specify that this mitzvah was given at Sinai? The Midrash discusses this issue. The Midrash explains that the Torah is using Shemitah as an example. The Torah is communicating to us that this mitzvah was given at Sinai in its entirety. We are to extrapolate from this example that just as this mitzvah is derived entirely from Sinai, so too all other mitzvot were revealed in their entirety at Sinai. This revelation encompassed both the general principles of the commandments and their details. The comments of the Midrash are somewhat enigmatic. The Midrash seems to assume that one would presume that the mitzvot are not derived completely from Sinai. Our passage is designed to correct this misimpression. Why would we assume that the mitzvot are not derived, in their entirety, from Sinai? The commentaries offer a variety of answers. Nachmanides explains that the manner in which the Torah discusses some mitzvot can lead to a misunderstanding. The Torah does not always deal with a mitzvah in a single comprehensive discussion. Often the discussion of a mitzvah will be dispersed among different locations in the Torah. Shemitah is an example of this treatment. The mitzvah is first encountered in Parshat Mishpatim.[2] Our parasha continues this discussion. Furthermore, there is an important relationship between the two discussions. The passages in Parshat Mishpatim outline the general concept of Shemitah. Our parasha provides detail. Nachmanides explains that the casual reader can easily misinterpret this presentation and conclude that only the general outline of the mitzvah was revealed at Sinai. This outline is the discussion in Parshat Mishpatim. However, this reader might incorrectly assume that the details, discussed in our parasha, represent Moshe’s interpretation and implementation of the general principle embodied in the commandment. In order to dispel this misconception, the Torah explains that even the details, discussed in this week’s parasha are from Sinai. This example serves as a model for understanding the Torah’s treatment of other mitzvot. Even in cases in which the discussion of the mitzvah is dispersed in the Torah, the entire mitzvah, with all of its details, is derived from Sinai. Gershonides offers an alternative answer to the original problem. Why is it necessary for the Torah to specify the origin of the mitzvah of Shemitah? Gershonides maintains that, in general, the origin of the mitzvot is clear. The mitzvot are derived from Sinai. Sinai is the source of the general outline and the details. There is no need for the Torah to reiterate this point. However, at the opening of our parasha, there is a specific basis for confusion. He explains that the cause for this confusion is found at the end of the previous parasha – Parshat Emor. There, the Torah relates an account of a person that blasphemed that name of Hashem. The nation did not know the punishment for this crime. The people appealed to Moshe. Moshe could not respond. He turned to Hashem. Hashem instructed Moshe that the blasphemer should be stoned. In this instance, Moshe was confronted with an issue that he could not resolve based on the revelation at Sinai. A further prophecy was needed. Moshe received this prophecy in the wilderness. The reader might assume other mitzvot were also revealed in the wilderness and not at Sinai. Our parasha resolves this issue. The parasha begins with the declaration that Shemitah was revealed at Sinai. Sinai is the source for the Torah. The punishment of the blasphemer represents an unusual and relatively isolated exception to this rule.’
The Lubavitcher Rebbe offers his insights on this verse as well: ‘ Taken on its own, this verse seems to imply that “a sabbath unto G‑d” is to be observed immediately upon entering the Land. But in practice, when the Jewish people entered the Land of Israel they first worked the land for six years, and only then observed the seventh year as the Shemittah (sabbatical year)—as, indeed, the Torah clearly instructs in the following verses. The Torah is telling us that a Shemittah is to both precede and follow our six years of labor: to follow it on the calendar, but to also precede it—if not in actuality, then conceptually.We find a similar duality in regard to the weekly seven-day cycle. The weekly Shabbat has a twofold role: a) It is the day “from which all successive days are blessed”—the source of material and spiritual sustenance for the week to follow. b) It is the “culmination” of the week—the day on which the week’s labors and efforts are harvested and sublimated, and their inner spiritual significance is realized and brought to light.But if every week must have a Shabbat to “bless” it, what about the week of creation itself? In actuality, G‑d began His creation of existence—including the creation of time—on Sunday, which is therefore called the “First Day.” But our sages tell us that there was a primordial Shabbat which preceded creation—a Shabbat existing not in time but in the mind of G‑d, as a vision of a completed and perfected world. Therein lies an important lesson in how we are to approach the mundane involvements of life. True, we begin with the material, for in a world governed by cause and effect, the means inevitably precede the end. But what is first in actuality need not be first in mind. In mind and consciousness, the end must precede the means, for without a clear vision of their purpose to guide them, the means may begin to see themselves as the end. The spiritual harvest of a Shabbat or Shemittah can be achieved only after a “work-week” of dealing with the material world and developing its resources. But it must be preceded and predicated upon “a sabbath unto G‑d” that occupies the fore of our consciousness and pervades our every deed.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Apr 27, 2018 | Torat Devorah
After the death of Aaron’s sons…” The Torah tells us that after undergoing this personal tragedy, Aaron responded with silence. He did not choose to blame God, Moses, or himself, or to descend into depression. Rather got up and tried to fulfill his mission in life. Despite his inner pain, he devoted the next 40 years of his life to fulfilling his mission and serving God.
We recently commemorated Holocaust Remembrance Day, a period of incomprehensible tragedy. Yet this day of commemoration is followed a week later by Israel’s Independence Day. Having been through the greatest tragedy in history, the nation that was written off time and time again rose up and built a future for themselves.
Rabbi Ron Jawary comments: ‘2,500 years ago, God promised “I will bring back the captivity of my people; they will rebuild desolate cities and inhabit them; they will plant vineyards and drink their wine…they will cultivate gardens…and they will never be uprooted from their land again.” If we understand these words not just literally, but figuratively, we can see how God is fulfilling this promise. “I will bring back the captivity” alludes to our redemption from the camps of Europe and the Iron Curtain, and “building the cities” refers to the building of the then desolate Land of Israel. The “vineyards and gardens” allude to the tremendous contributions Israel has made to the modern world in terms of morality, technology, medicine, agriculture… Just as Aaron was able to persevere in spite of the tragedy he experienced, the Jewish nation has managed to rise up in spite of our enemies and fulfill our mission of bringing light and blessing to the world.’
Perhaps the most famous commandment in the Torah appears in this week’s portion: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Rabbi Shaul Rosenblatt comments: ‘When you think about it a bit deeper, however, the question arises: How can you command someone to love? You can command action, but surely you cannot command emotion. Every system of law demands that people act in a certain way. There is not a single one – apart from Torah – which demands that people feel a certain way. You can be an observant Jew: only eat kosher, pray three times a day, and even wear a black hat – but if you don’t feel the emotion of love when you meet another person in the street, you are missing the boat. It’s not enough to simply “not hate.” It’s not enough even to be nice and helpful to the extreme. Ambivalence dressed up in niceties is not what is required of us. We must get ourselves to feel the emotion of love. I once had the privilege of meeting Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, who was widely considered one of the greatest rabbis of this generation. When I entered the room, I immediately felt a presence. When my turn came, I stretched out my hand to shake his and looked into his eyes. I could not believe what I saw. I felt, as I feel with my own parents, that this was someone who loved me. The warmth that emanated from him was something I have rarely felt in my life. I am confident that he loved me more than do some of my closest friends. He did not know me. He had never met me. And yet he loved me. This is what the Torah requires.
If Rabbi Auerbach had invited me for dinner every day of the week, sent me home laden with gifts, and told me I was welcome in his home whenever I wanted – but I hadn’t felt that he loved me – I would not have walked away with half the feeling of exhilaration as I did. There is no greater gift than love. When people feel loved, they feel self-esteem, they feel lifted, and they feel empowered. When they feel you want to help them because you are obligated to do so, they will be grateful, at best. Loving is giving in the fullest way possible.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Apr 20, 2018 | Torat Devorah
The central theme of Parshat Tazria-Metzora is the unique case of tzara’at (usually translated as leprosy) in its various manifestations. Some tzara’at appears in human flesh. Some affects a person’s hair or facial hair, and other types can appear in other parts of the body. Tzara’at can even spread to clothes and houses.
Rabbi David Stav relates the following: ‘Of all special halakhot concerning tzara’at, I would like to focus our attention on one particular law. A major symptom of tzara’at in human beings is a white rash appearing on a person’s skin. Once someone discovers the rash, he approaches the priest, who would need to determine if the white rash is enough to classify the individual as being afflicted with tzara’at: “And if the tzara’at (tzara’at) has spread over the skin, whereby the tzara’at covers all the skin of the [person with the] lesion, from his head to his feet, wherever the eyes of the priest can see it, then the priest shall look [at it]. And, behold! the tzara’at has covered all his flesh, he shall pronounce [the person with] the lesion clean. He has turned completely white; he is clean.” [Lev. 13:13] In other words, if the lesion was only the size of two hands, the person would be considered unclean, whereas if the lesion were to cover the individual’s entire body, he would be clean.
How could it be that a lesion appearing in just one part of a person’s body would make him impure, and indicate the existence of some form of a disease, while a lesion or disease that had spread over the individual’s entire body would lead to the opposite conclusion – that the person is clean?! If we attempt to understand tzara’at as an ordinary disease, these verses seem puzzling to us. It turns out that the Torah wants to stress the spiritual and ethical aspect of tzara’at manifested in this halakha, as well as in other places. Tzara’at is meant to warn us of various facets of an individual’s moral decay, including haughtiness and arrogance, envy, gossip and slander of others, etc. Warnings and instructions are meant to be given in the appropriate amounts. At some point, a person becomes either unable or unwilling to receive a message because it is conveyed too forcefully, or because it is so intense, and the message itself loses much of its effect. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch put it best: “Quarantine and seclusion (i.e. the isolation a leper is compelled to endure) distance a person from the Temple and from the society around him. The purpose [of these measures] is to lead to repentance and rectification of character traits. However, it is not hoped that this is what they will achieve, unless moral goodness had still been retained in the person’s consciousness, and can wage war against evil. Therefore, if absolute evil had suddenly emerged, i.e. ‘[it] had appeared all over’, or even if the entire became smitten with tzara’at – during the time a person had been in seclusion through quarantine this is what is meant: the days of isolation had removed any foundations of morality from his heart, so that this isolation does not lead the individual to rectifying his character traits. This is why the declaration of impurity is nullified. Rebuke is worthwhile as long as a person still hopes he is capable of correcting his negative traits and bettering his situation. However, if a person senses that he’s in dire straits, there is no reason to impose any more punishments, and it would be better to simply state that the person is pure.” This is why our rabbis say the following: “The son of David will not come until the kingdom is converted to heresy. …Rava said: What verse [proves this]? It is all turned white: he is clean.” [Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 97a] It would be wonderful if we would merit salvation on account of a surge of the benevolence that exists in each and every one of us. However, at times, benevolence emerges in humanity and in individuals only once the evil within all of us is negated. When a person witnesses the embodiment of absolute evil, he suddenly realizes why benevolence is so vital. This is why everything becomes pure when everything turns white.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
