Apr 13, 2018 | Torat Devorah
Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, each took his censer . . . and they died before G‑d (10:1–2)
Bar Kappara said in the name of Rabbi Yirmiyah ben Elazar: Aaron’s sons died on account of four things: for drawing near, for offering, for the strange fire, and for not having taken counsel from each other. “For drawing near”—because they entered into the innermost precincts of the Sanctuary. “For offering”—because they offered a sacrifice which they had not been commanded to offer. “For the strange fire”—they brought in fire from the kitchen. “And for not having taken counsel from each other”—as it says, “Each took his censer,” implying that they acted each on his own initiative, not taking counsel from one another. Rabbi Mani of Sha’av, Rabbi Yehoshua of Sichnin, and Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Levi said: The sons of Aaron died on account of four things . . . : Because they had drunk wine, as it says [immediately following the incident], “Do not drink wine or strong drink . . . that you not die” (Leviticus 10:9). Because they served in the Sanctuary lacking the prescribed number of priestly garments (cf. Exodus 28:43). Because they entered the Sanctuary without washing their hands and feet (cf. Exodus 30:21). Because they had no children… as it says, “Nadav and Avihu died . . . and they had no children” (Numbers 3:4).
Abba Chanin says that it was because they had no wives, for it is written [regarding the high priest], “He shall make atonement for himself, and for his house” (Leviticus 16:6)—“his house” refers to his wife.Rabbi Levi says that they were arrogant. Many women remained unmarried waiting for them. What did they say? Our father’s brother is a king, our mother’s brother is a prince [i.e., Nachshon, the head of the tribe of Judah], our father is a high priest, and we are both deputy high priests; what woman is worthy of us? . . . Moses and Aaron went first, Nadav and Avihu walked behind them, and all Israel followed, and Nadav and Avihu were saying: “When will these two old men die and we assume authority over the community?” Rabbi Yehudah in the name of Rabbi Aivu said that they uttered this to one another with their mouths, while Rabbi Pinchas said that they harbored the thought in their hearts.
Others say: They already deserved to die at Mount Sinai, when they callously feasted their eyes on the Divine (Exodus 24:9–11).
After this incident, the Torah states: ‘Aaron was silent’ (10:3). The Lubavitcher rabbi comments: “Speech signifies comprehensibility. Melody is beyond language, expressing moods which words cannot describe. Silence is yet higher.
The power to be silent at certain moments of life and of history is an important strength. It expresses the awareness that G‑d is infinite, and cannot be encapsulated in our human conceptions of what should take place.
The Talmud tells of an instance in which Moses himself was told by G‑d to be silent. G‑d showed him in a vision all future generations of the Jewish people, and the leaders of each generation. Moses was greatly impressed by the wisdom of Rabbi Akiva. Then he saw the way the Romans tortured him to death. “Is this the reward of his Torah knowledge?” Moses asked. G‑d answered: “Be silent. Thus it arose in My thought.” This is not to say that the Torah advocates a fatalistic approach to life. Before the event, one must do everything possible to prevent tragedy. But once it has happened, G‑d forbid, through the acceptance and the silence we reach a special closeness to the Divine. Our sages tell us that because Aaron was silent, he was rewarded by G‑d speaking directly to him. In our generation, too, there is a need for this power of silence. It is not a passive power, but one that leads to vigorous and joyous action. The Jewish response to the harrowing events of the Shoah is the determined and energetic action to rebuild Jewish family life and Jewish knowledge.
Through our power of silence we too, like Aaron, will merit Divine revelation. G‑d will bring the Messiah, rebuilding the Temple and bringing lasting peace to the world.”
“These are the animals which you may eat . . . But these you shall not eat of those that chew the cud, or of those that divide the hoof . . . “ (11:2-4) The Torah does not list the animals that have both kosher signs (and are thus kosher), nor does it list those which lack both (and are thus forbidden); but it does name the four animals—the camel, hyrax, hare and swine—that have one but not the other (making them, too, unfit for consumption for the Jew).
It is noteworthy that in the 33 centuries since G‑d communicated these laws to Moses, entire continents, replete with many “new” and unimagined species, have been discovered. A number of these hitherto unknown species possess both of the kosher signs, and many lack them both; but not a single one has been found with only one sign. The only such animals on earth are the four species enumerated by the Torah!
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Apr 5, 2018 | Torat Devorah
The Shulchan Arukh (493) writes: “The custom is not to marry a woman in between Pesach and Shavuot, until Lag Ba-omer, as during this period Rabbi Akiva’s students died… The custom is not to cut one’s hair until Lag Ba-omer.” The Rema adds: “Many places have the custom of allowing haircuts until Rosh Chodesh Iyar. These people should not have their hair cut from Lag Ba-omer on… ” Meaning, those following this custom observe practices of mourning from Rosh Chodesh Iyar until Shavuot (for thirty-three days, starting from after Rosh Chodesh Iyar). What source is there to limit the custom mentioned in the Shulchan Arukh to the first thirty-three days, from Pesach until Lag Ba-omer? Likewise, what is the source for the custom of the Rema, of observing these practices from Rosh Chodesh Iyar until Shavuot? Finally, from where do we derive these practices of mourning in the first place? Rav Yosef Tzvi Rimon explains: “The earliest source for the custom to observe mourning practices during sefira appears in the literature of the Geonim. In “Halakhot Pesukot Min Ha-Geonim” (97) we find the following letter of Rav Natrunai Gaon: “Regarding your question of why we do not betroth [referring to “kiddushin,” which we perform today at the wedding ceremony itself] or marry in between Pesach and Shavuot: … You should know that this does not involve any actual prohibition, but rather a custom of mourning, for Chazal said that Rabbi Akiva had twelve thousand pairs of students and they all died in between Pesach and Shavuot… From that point on, the earlier generations were accustomed during these days not to marry.” Other teshuvot (responsa) penned by the Geonim speak in a similar fashion. (Rav Hai Gaon, in a teshuva recorded in Otzar Ha-Geonim 328, adds the custom of refraining from work after sundown during sefira, as it was then that Rabbi Akiva’s students were buried, prompting the masses to halt their normal activities. In another teshuva, cited in Teshuvot Ha-Geonim, Sha’arei Teshuva 278, Rav Hai Gaon permits betrothals during sefira, as “there is no joy except at the chupa.”) From the Geonim it appears that the custom only prohibits marriage during these weeks; it does not entail any other mourning-related practices. (Today the custom of refraining from work after sundown is largely not practiced. One additional custom mentioned in the Geonim’s writings, cited in the name of Rav Sherira Gaon in Teshuvot U-pesakim, Mekitzei Nirdamim 69, prohibits making new garments until Shavuot.) Furthermore, the Geonim seem to apply this prohibition throughout the sefira period, from Pesach through Shavuot. The prohibition against cutting one’s hair during sefira appears in writing for the first time towards the middle of the era of the Rishonim. Rav Aharon Ha-kohen of Lunil – the Re’a – writes the following in his work Orchot Chayim: “The custom is not to marry from Pesach until Shavuot, and we also do not cut our hair, out of mourning for the twelve thousand pairs of students… ” This custom appears in the writings of other Rishonim, as well, where we also find sources for limiting the duration of the practices to the first thirty-three days of sefira.
Rav Yehoshua Ibn Shu’ib (14th cent; considered by the Bet Yosef as the original source of the prohibition against haircutting [though, as we saw, the Re’a preceded him]) mentions the prohibition against haircutting and adds, “We shave on the morning of the thirty-fourth day [of the omer], as we consider part of the day as the entire day.” He proceeds to explain the reason for ending the prohibition at this point, one which appears as well in the “Manhig” (by the Ra’avan – Rav Avraham Ben Rav Natan Ha-yarchi) citing the Reza (regarding the custom not to conduct weddings). The Gemara describes the disciples’ deaths as having occurred from Pesach “ad peros ha’atzeret,” which roughly translates as, “until the eve of Shavuot.” Other Talmudic sources indicate that “ad peros” denotes a period of fifteen days, which means that the plague came to an end on Lag Ba-omer. The Meiri (Yevamot 62b), too, records a tradition of the Geonim that the deaths ended on Lag Ba-omer. The Maharil – Minhagim 21b – posits a completely different approach to explain how tradition evolved to halt the mourning practices on Lag Ba-omer. He argues that Rabbi Akiva’s students died only on days on which the “tachanun” prayer is recited, which excludes the seven Shabbatot, seven days of Pesach, two days of Rosh Chodesh Iyar and the one day of Rosh Chodesh Sivan – a total of sixteen days. Thus, the plague raged for only thirty-three days. We should note, however, that one cannot include in this count seven Shabbatot as well as seven days of Pesach, as one of these seven days inevitably falls on Shabbat.)
In the literature of the Ashkenazic Rishonim we find other customs observed during the sefira period, beyond the mourning practices we have already encountered. These include the recitation of special lamentations for victims of persecution and that of “Av Ha-rachamim” (which was established after the Crusades – Magen Avraham 284:7), as well as prohibitions such as the purchase of new clothing. This indicates that among Ashkenazic communities an additional basis for mourning practices arose: the Crusades of 5856 (1096 C.E.), which occurred during the sefira period. (The Crusades were groups of Christians who set out to conquer Jerusalem and, along the way, killed large numbers of Jews in Ashkenaz from Iyar until Av. Therefore, these communities observed the mourning period from Rosh Chodesh Iyar on, the period that saw the bulk of the persecutions at the hands of the Crusaders. (It also stands to reason that they held a tradition that Rabbi Akiva’s disciples died over the course of thirty-three days, the identity of which remained unclear. After the devastation of the Crusades, these communities selected the final thirty-three days, from Rosh Chodesh Iyar until Shavuot.)
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Mar 29, 2018 | Torat Devorah
We know the 2nd part of the Seder, Urchatz, is the washing of the hands. Some may wonder why we do this if were not going to eat bread. However, we are aware of the Gemara in Pesachim which tells us that any food dipped in liquid requires us to wash our hands before eating. Nowadays, it has been decided to ignore this ruling of Gemara. This should confuse us, if were ignoring the ruling of the Gemara then why all of a sudden on Pesach night do we decide to take it upon ourselves? What makes this night special?
According to the Taz, it’s nothing but sheer inconsistency. However, the Levush explains this seemingly unnecessary custom by staying that because on the Seder night the dipping of the food is the mitzvah itself, it is treated more stringently, adhering to rules more strictly than the all around year norm. The Aruch Hashulchan also gives a short explanation of this practice, explaining it is simply another custom done to arouse curiosity and questions among the children.
Rav Mirsky then gives his opinion. The Gemara in Sotah tells us that anyone who isn’t careful in the washing of the hands before eating (including dipped foods) will be uprooted from the world. To take that one step further, the Ba’ar Hetev extends this punishment even to those who only disregard the Halachah once. But why is there such an intense punishment for this rabbinical prohibition? The Maharal of Prague explains that there is much more symbolism to this process than we know. Hands, represent the beginning of the human body because when a person stretches out his hands, it is his hands that reaches to the top of the body. Naturally, the beginning of any action we do influences what will happen then on. For example, a sin that is committed with your hands, no matter how minor it may be still is seen as severe because a faulty start will lead to a flawed conclusion. This is why we especially meticulous on Pesach. Pesach is the beginning of it all, according to the Maharal – it’s the beginning for all that exists at all times. At this very point that is our beginning and renewal of what is to follow we strive for perfection and remind ourselves of the importance of a proper beginning by washing our hands.
The Hagada speaks about the famed “Four Sons:” The Wise son, the Evil Son, the Simple Son, and the Son who does not know how to ask. The dialogue of the evil son is particularly interesting. The Hagada Says: “The Rashah (The wicked son) – What does he say? ‘Of what purpose is this service to you?’ To you (he said), (implying) and not to himself. Because he took himself out of the community, he has denied the basic principles. Therefore, you should strike his teeth and tell him ‘Because of this, G-d did this for me during my departure from Egypt.’ For me, and not for him. And if he was there, he would not have been redeemed. ”Why is the evil son so bad? Why are his comments considered “heretical?” Furthermore, what is the unusual response of striking his teeth supposed to accomplish? In order to get a fuller appreciation of this dialogue, it is necessary to understand the true meaning of the conversation. Therefore, a little background information is needed. Rabbi Yehudah Prero explains: ” Our forefather Yaakov was the father of the 12 Tribes of Israel. We find in the Torah that Yosef, Yaakov’s favorite son, was not liked by his brothers. Yosef had dreams about how he would be in an elevated position over his brothers, which he related to his brothers. These revelations combined with other factors that our Sages discuss caused a large rift between Yosef and his brothers. Yaakov was not oblivious to this rift. Indeed, he knew that Yosef distanced himself and was distanced from his brothers, and he attempted to ameliorate the situation. We find in Bereshis (37:11-14) that the brothers were tending to their father’s flocks in the city of Shechem. Yaakov sent Yosef to check on his brothers. The language that Yaakov used to request this of Yosef is odd. He told Yosef “To check on the peace of your brothers and the peace of the sheep.” Why did Yaakov give this lengthy order, when he could have simply stated “Check on the peace of your brothers and the sheep?” The answer is that Yaakov was telling something more to Yosef than to just check on his brothers’ well being. There are two types of “peace.” There is a type of peace which is merely an absence of war. People do not necessarily get along, nor care for each other. However, as long as one does not bother the other, all is well. This is contrasted to a vastly different type of peace. It is a true peace, where people care for each other. People more than just co-exist with each other: They live together as a community, a collective whole where all are concerned for each other’s benefit, and where cooperation is the norm, not an exception, not a burden. Sheep are a perfect example of the former type of peace. One sheep does not necessarily care for the others in the flock. As long as any specific sheep gets its food to eat, it will not bother any other sheep. Sheep co-exist with each other. The brothers of Yosef, on the other hand, demonstrated the latter type of peace. They lived together in a unit, caring for each other’s needs, concerned for each other’s welfare. The brothers lived in a harmonious unit, a unit which typified the peace we long for. Yosef, by acting in the ways he did, was distancing himself from his brothers. His relationship with his siblings was like that between sheep: as long as Yosef did not bother his brothers, they did not bother him, and vice versa. Yaakov knew that it was of utmost importance that this change. Yosef had to realize that he had to make himself a part of the whole. He could not be content with his status as an individual, separate from his brothers. He had to realize how important unity was, and act on this realization. In order to point out to Yosef that his behavior was not as it should be, Yaakov told Yosef “Go, look at the peace of the sheep. See how they act towards each other. That is how you are acting towards your brothers, and it is wrong! How should you act? Go see the peace of your brothers! They are truly a unified group, where care for each other is of utmost concern. That is how your relationship should be with your brothers!” The Torah tells us that by this point in time, it was too late for Yosef to rectify the situation. His brothers sold him into slavery. This sale was the first link in the chain of events that lead to our slavery in Egypt. By the time we were taken out of Egypt as a nation, we had rectified the situation. The Torah points this out when the nation of Israel was camped by Mount Sinai not long after the departure. The Torah, when saying that the nation was camped, uses the singular verb “va’yichan” – “and he camped,” instead of the proper verb of “va’yachanu,” “and they camped.” Why the odd choice? To tell us that the entire nation was one – like one person, with one heart. We have to assure that our relationship with our “brothers” is one of unity. Without unity, our nation will not survive. It is because of the importance of unity that the question of the Rashah is deemed “heretical.” The Rashah stresses that he is not part of the rest of the nation. He is not interested in what everyone else is doing. He is for himself. It is this type of attitude that dooms our nation. The Rashah has taken himself out of the community. By separating himself, he is illustrating that he does not care for the rest of the nation, nor for the nation’s continued existence. So how does striking his teeth help? The Hagada tells us that the nation of Israel while in Egypt was as numerous as grass. Why the comparison to grass, as opposed to other “numerous” objects, such as the stars and sand? The Leil Shimurim writes that individual blades of grass have no value. Only with the combination of countless blades is there any significance to the grass. The same is true with the nation of Israel. The greatness of the nation of Israel is their unity. Teeth as well are only of value as a group. One tooth does not help a person much. We therefore “strike the teeth” of the Rashah – to illustrate to him that just as a few scattered individual teeth are not of much value, so too he, by separating himself from the nation, is of insignificant value. Just as teeth need each other to work properly, so too the nation of Israel needs all brothers and sisters working together.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Mar 23, 2018 | Torat Devorah
This D’var Torah is in memory of Chuck Millman’s mother Claire, whose 1st Yahrzeit will be observed on the 15th of Nisan, -and also in the celebration my wedding Anniversary with my wife Elaine , the Hebrew date was celebrated on Purim, whereas the English date was on March 21.
In this week’s Parshah we are told that Hashem spoke to Moses and said Tzav et Aharon viet banav l’aimor. Command Aaron and his sons saying: The word TZAV is deliberately expressed in a form that can refer to both the past and the future. In other words, Hashem’s commandments are as applicable today as they were when first promulgated. The rules governing man’s behaviour and man’s devotion to G-d are timeless. Consequently, our observance of the Torah should not be marked with tired, listless efforts. When we pray, we should not mumble through the prayers out of habit. Rather, we should remember whom we are addressing, and say each word carefully. The same applies to the observance of Shabbat, our Torah learning, and other Mitzvot. They should not become routine, but rather should be moments of inspiration. We must view the Torah and our prayers as instructions from G-d on how to act practically. If we do not realize this, and do not actually practice what we say and learn, our words and learning are L’Vatalah, they have no meaning or purpose. According to our sages in Kiddushin 31 “he who receives a commandment and performs it is greater than one who received no commandment and performs it”. The Kotzker Rabbi says that the reason is because it is more difficult to obey a commandment then to perform an act out of one’s own free will, without having received an explicit command.
There was no particular place specifically designated for bringing the sacrifice of the Sin Offering, the Korban Chatos, in the Mishkan. This is significant. The Korban Chatos was offered by one who had sinned and now wished to repent. If there was a specified location for these sacrifices, the sinner’s identity would become readily known, and this might in itself discourage repentance. Because the Korbon Chatos was offered in the same place as the Korban Olah, no one could be certain if the bearer of the Korban had actually sinned. In this way, the matter would remain a private one between man and G-d, and the sinner would be spared public embarrassment. Rabbi Mordechai Katz explains that if Hashem’s Torah laws deliberately avoid the shaming of others, then we should certainly be more careful not to embarrass our fellow man. Chazal tells us that whoever insults his fellow man in public forfeits his place in the world to come (Baba Metzia 59a). The reason is simple. One can kill a man only once with a knife, but he can slay him many times over with a shameful word. To illustrate, a story, Rabbi Akiva Eiger once invited a poor man to his home on Friday night. At the meal, a beautiful white tablecloth covered the Shabbat table. When the poor man lifted his glass of wine, it slipped out of hand, and the red liquid spilled over the pure white cloth, leaving an ugly blotch. Seeing the poor man squirm in embarrassment, Rabbi Eiger immediately lifted his own glass of wine and also “accidentally “ spilled it over the tablecloth. As the poor man looked on in great relief, Rabbi Eiger remarked “ it seems as the table or floor are shaking, doesn’t it?” He had been willing to make himself look careless just to spare the shame of another.
We read Chapter 7, verse 26…Vichol dum lo Tochloo…and no manner of blood shall you eat. We remember our Bubbies and our mothers standing over the sink with a chunk of meat, and performing the time-consuming ritual. They would have to soak the meat for half an hour to remove the surface blood and soften the meat. The meat was then thoroughly salted and allowed to remain so for one hour, to permit the salt to penetrate the meat, and absorb the blood not visible on the outside. After an hour, the meat was thoroughly rinsed to remove the salt, and the blood drawn out by the salt. Nowadays virtually all meat that we buy has already been kashered. We take so much care not to ingest blood. Nachmanadies offers three explanations as to why we do so.
#1.Because Man was the only creature that recognizes his Maker, he was allowed to eat the flesh of another creature. But it was considered savage to eat blood, because blood is tantamount to the very life of the creature.
#2. A human who ate the blood of an animal would himself begin to act like an animal.
#3. Blood was the very life of an animal. As such it was used in the sacrificial rights to substitute for the life of the human
transgressor who should have paid with his own life for his transgression against G-d. How then could one eat the substance that was used as a substitute for one’s own blood?
As we approach Passover, we remember the horrifying blood libels that our people suffered. We were accused of murdering non-Jews , especially Christians, in order to obtain blood for the Pesach rituals. How sad, when we read of how we cherish and respect the lives of all of G-d’s creatures.
Prepared by Martin Labow and Devorah Abenhaim
Mar 16, 2018 | Torat Devorah
“Speak to Bnai Yisrael and say to them the following: When a person from among you offers a sacrifice to Hashem, if it is an animal sacrifice, it should be taken from the cattle or the flocks of sheep or goats.” (VaYikra 1:2)
This passage introduces the Torah’s discussion of sacrifices.
The asham sacrifice – a guilt offering-was brought by a person who had sinned by committing robbery or fraud. The guilty person had to give back the stolen item plus an additional one fifth of its value and then sacrifice an animal or give the equivalent in money. Depending on the financial means and social status of the individual, female sheep or goat, birds or choice flour could also be sacrificed. An asham for one of the leaders of the people consisted of a male kid or lamb. When an animal was sacrificed, the blood would be daubed on the horns of the burnt offering altar.
Rabbi Saul Oresky comments: ‘The asham sacrifice raised concerns among the prophets who thought a person might commit a deliberate wrong and then offer a sacrifice to square the account. They felt that this kind of offering was superficial and did not lead the people to change their behavior or to be close to God. Both Isaiah and Jeremiah condemned the people for offering sacrifices while continuing to behave wickedly.’
There is a remarkable parallel to the development of sacrifices. Rabbi Bernie Fox explains: ‘Maimonides discusses the mitzvah of prayer in his Mishne Torah. He explains that, according to the Torah, we are required to pray every day. The Torah does not establish a set number of prayers for each day. Neither is there a specified text. Each person is free to pray once, or numerous times each day. Each individual’s prayers are a personal expression of one’s own feelings.
Originally, the mitzvah was observed in the manner prescribed by the Torah. However, after the destruction of the first Temple and the subsequent exile, a problem arose. The majority of the nation was no longer fluent in Hebrew the sacred language. Hebrew was replaced by a variety of languages. Most were unable to effectively express themselves in appropriate prayers. Ezra and his court intervened. They ordained that we should pray three times each day. They also established a specific text for the prayers. In short, prayer was transformed. Originally, it was a personal expression. Ezra created structure and regulation…Ezra’s reformulation of prayer did not detract from the mitzvah. Instead, the mitzvah was enhanced. Ezra made prayer more accessible to the average person. He also added structure and regulation. This addition enhances the element of devotion in prayer. The supplicant, through adhering to these laws, demonstrates submission to the Almighty’s will. Through Ezra, prayer more closely models the concept of Divine service expressed in sacrificial service.’
Mar 2, 2018 | Torat Devorah
“The people saw that Moses delayed in coming down from the mountain. They gathered around Aaron, and said to him, “Make us a shrine which will go before us. We have no idea what became of Moses, the man who brought us out of Egypt…” The people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron, who cast them into a molten calf. Some of the people began to say, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of Egypt.” (Exodus 32:1-4)
The question is obvious: If the Jews just witnessed God’s awesome power in the Ten Plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea, and the revelation at Mount Sinai, how could these same people turn around a worship a Golden Calf?
The answer is that the Jews never built the calf with the intention it should be worshipped. Rabbi Shraga Simmons explains: “Here’s what happened: When Moses said, “I’m going up the mountain for 40 days,” his intent was 40 full days. The people, however, mistakenly included in their count that first day – thus expecting Moses to return one day earlier. So when Day 39 rolled around, the Jews began to wonder, “Where’s Moses?” This caused great anxiety. For although the people knew it was God Himself Who’d orchestrated all the miracles, it was nevertheless Moses who’d raised his staff for the Red Sea to split. They relied on Moses as captain of the team around whom they rallied to get the job done. Their fundamental mistake? They lost patience, the serenity of knowing that life is a process and everything happens in its time. This lack of trust in made them lose touch with reality and – fueled by fear and anxiety – their imaginations began to run wild. On Day 39, the malcontents in the camp began circulating rumors that he wasn’t coming back at all. In fact, they managed to instill so much fear and anxiety, that the Talmud says the people actually saw a vision of Moses dead! (So strong is the power of suggestion.) Then the Jews reasoned: If Moses isn’t coming back, we must craft ourselves a replacement. And so the Golden Calf was born. Not as an idol; not as a rebellion against God. But as a figurehead. A mere shrine to replace the missing Moses. During the incident of the Golden Calf, one man named Chur arose to protest. So how did the crowd respond? Their connection to this “idol” had grown so strong that they lynched Chur to death!
When Moses came down from the mountain and smashed the Tablets, he issued a pronouncement to all Jews:
‘You can now turn back and avoid tragedy. Stop worshipping the Golden Calf and affirm your loyalty to God.’
Only the Tribe of Levi, comprising about 3% of the Jewish population, accepted Moses’ words. The other 97% remained stuck in their failed venture…
The lesson of the Golden Calf is to think about what we’re doing. What starts innocently may turn out tragic…With the right clarity, when we hear the voice, we will stand up and be counted.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
