Oct 8, 2015 | Torat Devorah
To introduce the creation of man, the Torah says, “VaYomer Elokim Naaseh Adam BeTzalmeinu KiDemuteinu,” “And God said, ‘Let us make a man in our image, as our likeness.’” (Bereishit 1:26) The Midrash explains that this Pasuk uses the plural Naaseh because God consulted the Malachim (angels) before creating man.
The Midrash states that when Moshe was writing the Torah, he saw this Pasuk and he asked Hashem, “Why are You creating an opportunity for people who don’t believe in You to find support for their opinions in this Pasuk, which seems to imply the existence of multiple gods, Chas VeShalom?” Hashem answered that he should leave the Pasuk the way it is and let anyone who wants to err do so. Hashem said to do this because in the future, there would be a leader who would think that he could make decisions without consulting his subordinates and his subordinates would be able to say that if Hashem consulted the Malachim, that leader should consult them too (BeReishit Rabbah 8:8).
Based on this Midrash, the Chanukat HaTorah explains the saying of Chazal that arrogance is like idol worship. One can interpret “Naaseh Adam” in two ways—that it is an expression of humility which Hashem showed by consulting the angels, or that it indicates the presence of other gods. A person who chooses to be arrogant will deny that Hashem went out of his way to show that humility is important; therefore, he will infer from this Pasuk that other gods exist, which is Avodah Zarah.
Rav Elchanan Wasserman finds this Midrash puzzling. In a business venture, would someone risk a large amount of money for a small profit? Obviously not; the risk and reward have to be somewhat in balance. So too, why would Hashem create a situation where someone could mistakenly conclude that other gods exist, just to teach the lesson of humility? This is a case where the risks seem to heavily outweigh the rewards.
Rav Elchanan explains that for years, people have learned this Pasuk and not believed that other gods exist. The Pasuk does not imply that there are other gods; it is clearly saying that Hashem only consulted his angels out of common courtesy. Only people who are looking to deny Hashem’s existence can understand this Pasuk as saying that there are other gods. This is what the Midrash means when it says that if people want to err they can—they are looking to err, so there is nothing Moshe can do to prevent it. This also means that the risk-to-reward proportion is greatly in Hashem’s favor. The vast majority of people will be able to learn the message of humility from the Pasuk and only a very few, for whom nothing can be done anyway, will perceive the wrong message.
Prepared by: Devorah Abenhaim
Oct 1, 2015 | Torat Devorah
V’zot Ha’bracha is not the first time in Chumash where we find that each tribe receives a blessing. Recall that back in Parshat Vayechi, Yaakov Avinu blesses each tribe before his death. Unlike Moshe, however, Yaakov addresses his children in almost exact age order: Reuven, Shimon, Levi, Yehuda, Zevulun & Yissachar [note slight deviation], Dan (first born of Bilhah), Gad (first born of Zilpah), Asher, and Naftali. Although Gad & Asher precede Naftali, they may very well have been born first, depending on how one understands Bereishit 30:5-10.
The reason why Yaakov blesses his children in age order is quite simple. Yaakov (prior to his death) blesses each son according to his individual potential, as exhibited and manifest throughout each respective son’s life. Therefore, whereas these blessings relate to personal destiny, it is only reasonable that they follow (more or less) the order of the sons’ births.
Moshe, by contrast, is not the ‘dying father’ of twelve sons. He is rather the ‘departing leader’ of twelve tribes to whom he has given the Torah and who are about to conquer and occupy the Land of Israel. As we would expect, his blessings accurately reflect the setting and circumstances in which they are administered.
Aware of the geographic division of the tribes in the land and their respective military capabilities, Moshe blesses each tribe prior to his death to encourage them to achieve their fullest potential in occupying the Land of Israel.
Moshe introduces his brachot with a four-pasuk ‘opener’ (33:2-5) and a corresponding four-pasuk ‘closer’ (33:26-29). The introductory psukim – the precise translation of which requires further discussion beyond the scope of this shiur – clearly point to Ma’amad Har Sinai and Moshe’s role as the transmitter of the laws commanded at Har Sinai.
Moshe’s closing remarks focus on God as the Protector of Israel, Who provides close supervision (33:26), assistance in battle (26:27,29), and agricultural and economic prosperity (26:28).
Rabbi Menachem Leibtag explains: Not only do these opening and closing remarks form the appropriate framework for the individual blessings, they also directly relate to primary theme of Sefer Devarim (and, for that matter, Chumash as a whole). God has chosen the Jewish nation to represent Him as His model nation to guide mankind in the proper direction. To that end, He gave them the Torah (see 33:2-5), which contains the specific laws whose observance in the Promised Land leads to the realization of that goal. Now, before his death, Moshe blesses Bnei Yisrael that they fulfill that potential, that God assist them in their achievement of these goals, in the “nachala” they are about to conquer and occupy.
Prepared by: Devorah Abenhaim
Sep 24, 2015 | Torat Devorah
Haazinu contains a lengthy poem that comprises almost this whole sidrah. It is part of a speech that Moses shares with our people before we enter the Promised Land. The poem declares God’s majesty, power, presence, and capacity to forgive. Since the poetic fragments of the Torah represent the most ancient strands of our tradition, these verses of poetry convey many core spiritual concepts of our faith.
Let us consider two words in the poem’s first verse. They are Haazinu, “Hear, O heavens, and I will speak” and V’tishma, “Hear, O earth, the words of my mouth.” (Deuteronomy 32:1) Is it the repetition of these two verbal forms that carry the meaning of “hearing” only for poetic purposes? To probe this question, we are presented with guidance by turning to Rashi’s comment on Genesis 18:2. Rashi teaches us that because the word vayar, “and he looked,” is repeated twice, there are two types of seeing. The first is the ordinary physical act of looking. The second is looking with clarity, empathy, and a deep understanding. The same concept applies in this first verse of our Torah portion with regard to the sensory act of hearing.
Rabbi Meyer Perelmuter explains: ‘There are two ways in which we can hear. The first is obviously the physical capacity to perceive sound by the ear. We hear words spoken and ideas and feelings expressed. We assimilate these sensations into our consciousness and oftimes respond to them. However, the depth of our response depends not just on the physical act of hearing (haazinu) but also on tishma, hearing with understanding and compassion. We hear surface sounds ( haazinu) and are challenged to hear them with understanding (tishma) and respond to them with empathy. On a spiritual level, the heavens may just be asked collectively to hear (haazinu), but we on earth are challenged to hear with understanding (tishma) that the earth, our loved ones, and life itself are God’s gifts to us. We are challenged to hear God’s presence in our lives (sh’ma).The watchword of our faith is not Haazinu Yisrael but rather Sh’ma Yisrael, “Hear O Israel,” in order to teach us to listen with openness and receptivity. God calls to us at every moment of our lives, opening us up to all kinds of inner forces, feelings, and sparks of insight. May we, in the spirit of this week’s Torah portion, Haazinu, identify one of the voices calling to us as the voice of God, which has called to us since our birth.’
Prepared by: Devorah Abenhaim
Sep 17, 2015 | Torat Devorah
“I will surely hide My face.” (31:18)
Once, there was a great Rabbi who came upon a young child crying his heart out. “What’s the matter, yingele?” asked the Rabbi, his eyes shining with sympathy and concern. “We were playing…” The child struggled to speak between sobs. “We were playing hide and seek…and I was the one who was supposed to go hide…” The boy looked up into the Rabbi’s face. “Yes, I’m listening,” said the Rabbi. “So I went and hid but…but…” The child broke down again in gales of sobs. “Tell me what happened,” said the Rabbi softly. Finally, the boy managed to finish the sentence, “…but nobody came to look for me!” After a few moments, the Rabbi smiled his warm smile and said, “You know, you shouldn’t feel so bad. You’re in very good company.” The child heaved a little, his tears abating. The Rabbi looked into the child’s eyes and continued: “You’re in very good company indeed. G-d feels a lot like you. Not many people are coming to look for Him.”
This world is like a cosmic game of hide-and-seek. We are given an invitation to this world; the invitation is called life. This invitation itself is a challenge: Who brought us here? Who sustains us here? What are we doing here? To make the game more challenging and our success more meaningful and rewarding, there are various distractions and “false leads” which can take us away from the game. But our “Host” has not left us without a “crib sheet” to help us navigate this ultimate virtual adventure. He has provided a clear manual that is guaranteed to allow us to unmask Him and the purpose of our existence. This manual is called the Torah. When we keep the Torah we see our “Host” more and more clearly. But if we don’t keep the Torah, He will hide himself more and more deeply, and finding Him will be very difficult indeed.
“I will surely hide My face.”
In the Hebrew language, the emphatic “to surely do” something is expressed by the repetition of the verb. In other words, the literal translation of the phrase “I willsurely hide My face” is “Hide, I will hide My face.”
Rabbi Yaakov Asher Sinclair explains: ‘The very structure of the Hebrew language gives us an insight into this “hiding.” There are two kinds of concealment. One is a concealment where you know someone is there but you just can’t see him. The other is a concealment where you don’t even know if he is there at all. In this second type, the very fact of his being hidden is concealed. This is the ultimate hiding, where the very hiding is hidden. When we are aware that G-d has “hidden” from us, He is not really concealed, because we realize that our hiding from Him has been reciprocated by His hiding from us. And so, we humble ourselves and return to Him, imploring his forgiveness. However, when the hiding is itself hidden, and we think that this is the way the world is supposed to be, then we are in big trouble because nothing awakens us to return to G-d. We think to ourselves, “This is the way things are supposed to be, isn’t it?” Ignorance, they say, is bliss. But only while we’re ignorant of our ignorance. One day we will all wake up in the real “Supreme” court and we will then have to pay the price for our years of “bliss.” On Yom Kippur we have a chance to shake ourselves out of our self-inflicted ignorance. A once-a-year opportunity to throw ourselves on the mercy of the King. If we search with all our hearts we will find Him.’
Prepared by: Devorah Abenhaim
Sep 11, 2015 | Torat Devorah
“You are standing this day, all of you, before Hashem your G-d, your leaders, your tribes, your Elders, and your officers, all the men of Israel. Your little ones, your wives, your stranger that is in your camp, from the cutter of your wood to the drawer of your water.” Rabbi Mordechai Katz explains that this passage underscores that all members of Israel stood together as equals before Hashem. This is dramatic proof that to Hashem each individual, no matter what his station in life, has the same potential for spiritual greatness. Each person can, in his own way, rise to the summit of holiness. No one should consider himself too insignificant to be a partner in the Covenant between the Jews and Hashem. On Rosh Hashonah, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev rose to blow the shofar. As he was about to began, he stopped, removed the shofar from his lips and put it down. As the delay continued, the people grew restless, for they couldn’t understand why the Rabbi delayed. “My friends,” said the Rabbi, “in the rear of the shul sits a Jew who was kidnaped as a young child, brought up by a gentile family and drafted into the army. When he was 40 years old, he was finally freed and allowed to return to his people. This man had not been inside a shul since he was a child, until he joined us today. He couldn’t possibly remember the prayers he heard so long ago. Yet, he was so overcome with emotion at his return to the House of Hashem. He yearned to join in the expressions of devotion to Hashem. And so I saw him speaking the only remnants of Hebrew that he recalled from his youth — the letters of the Alef Beis. But he said them with such feeling that they rose straight to heaven. I therefore paused so that his letters will have time to reach Hashem, who will Himself form them into the words of our prayers. Now, we can begin the blowing of the shofar.”
“And it shall come to pass . . . and you shall call to mind among all the nations where G-d has driven you.” Hashem tells the Jews of a time when they will be exiled and there, in the land of exile, “shall call to mind . . . “. The S’forno explains that this “calling to mind” is not simply a reminiscence of past events, but a deep introspection into one’s subconsciousness. This reflection is necessary to determine the motivation for every act — good or bad. This is the essence of “teshuvah” — sincere introspection followed by a honest comparison of one’s acts and deeds with the Torah’s absolute standards of right and wrong. How can we find our true motivations? Though we each have a complicated psychological code to decipher, the Torah assures us that we are each capable of breaking our personal code. Hashem created each of us with an unique power of self-analysis; this great potential heightens our responsibility to scrutinize all of our actions and motivations and correct them. It is precisely this “open-eyed” confrontation with ourselves that the S’forno describes as the essence of teshuvah. Though it is difficult, it is not beyond us, particularly during this special time preceding Rosh Hashanah.
“For this commandment which I command you this day is not too wondrous for you nor is it far beyond you… But the word is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.” Rabbi Avraham Twerski comments: The Torah will its many mitzvos might appear so difficult to observe that some people might say, “what’s the use of trying? I cannot possibly comply with all the requirements of the Torah.” “Not so,” says Moshe. “Observing the mitzvos is well within your means. Not only is it possible, but it is even much simpler than you think. All you have to do is make the decision and commit yourself to do so, and the rest will follow quite easily.” Even the greatest levels of spirituality are well within everyone’s reach. One needs only to make a sincere decision that this is what one wishes to achieve.
Prepared by: Devorah Abenhaim
Aug 20, 2015 | Torat Devorah
You shall not plant for yourselves an idolatrous tree any tree near the Altar of G-d.” (16:21)
In this week’s Torah portion we learn that it is forbidden to plant trees in the Beit Hamikdash, the Holy Temple. What is the reason for this prohibition? Wouldn’t trees have been a wonderful way to enhance the beauty of the Holy Temple? At one time, it was the custom of idolaters to plant beautiful trees, called asheirot, at the entrance of their temples. These trees would be venerated as holy. In the Book of Shoftim G-d commanded the Judge Gidon to “Destroy the altar of Baal that belongs to your father, and cut down the asheira next to it.”
The Torah prohibited the planting of any tree in the BeitHamikdash or its forecourt. The Torah Masters then extended the prohibition to include the entire Temple Mount.
However, apart from the connection to idol worship, there is a more subtle problem here.
When something is very beautiful, it’s always a challenge to place that thing in its correct perspective. Whether it’s a beautiful person or a beautiful view, or a beautiful tree, the nature of beauty is to say, “Look at me! I’m so beautiful” It’s difficult to look beyond the surface of the beauty. In Hebrew, one of the words for beauty is shapir. The name Shifra comes from this root, as does the common Jewish surname Shapiro. In the Book of Iyov it says, “By His breath the Heavens are spread (shifra)” (Iyov 26:13). Iyov describes how G-d’s breath spreads aside the cloud cover to reveal the Heavens beyond. The word to spread aside, to reveal is from that same root, shifra. In Jewish thought, something is only beautiful to the extent that it reveals what is beyond, what is inside. The part of the body where the personality of a person, his inside, is revealed is the face. In Hebrew the word for face and inside is the same – pnim/panim.
In Jewish thought, a beauty that reveals nothing more than itself cannot be called beautiful. “Art for Art’s sake” has no place in the lexicon of Jewish thought. Jewish beauty is the revelation of the inner.
On Friday night, a Jewish husband sings a song of praise to wife called Aishet Chayil – a Woman of Valor. Towards the end of the poem it says, “Charm is false and beauty empty. A woman who fears G-d, she should be praised.” When charm and beauty don’t reveal their source, their pnim, then they are false and empty. Charm and beauty by themselves are false and empty, but when they are ennobled and animated by an interior life of holiness and spirituality they radiate the purpose of their gift.
Similarly in the Holy Temple, the beauty of a tree can lead the mind in one of two ways: It can either lead to thoughts of the kindness of the Creator of the tree, how He brought into being such a beautiful thing, or it can stop at the surface: “Wow! That’s beautiful!” Mother Nature is so beautiful that it’s easy to forget that Mother Nature has a Father.
Prepared by: Devorah Abenhaim
