Jun 4, 2015 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parsha, Moses has a breakdown. It is the lowest emotional ebb of his entire career as a leader. Listen to his words to God: “Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? . . . I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me—if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin.” (Numbers 11: 11-15) Yet the cause seems utterly disproportionate to its effect. The people have done what they so often did before. They complain.
Rabbi Sacks comments: “In the chapters that follow, Moses seems to lack the unshakable determination he had in Exodus. At times, as in the episode of the spies, he seems surprisingly passive, leaving it to others to fight the battle. At others, he seems to lose control and becomes angry, something a leader should not do. Something has changed, but what? Why the breakdown, the burnout, the despair? …
The fundamental difference between the books of Exodus and Numbers, is that in Exodus, Moses is called on to exercise technical leadership. The Israelites are enslaved? God sends signs and wonders, ten plagues, and the Israelites go free. They need to escape from Pharaoh’s chariots? Moses lifts his staff and God divides the sea. They are hungry? God sends manna from heaven. Thirsty? God sends water from a rock. When they have a problem, the leader, Moses, together with God, provides the solution. The people do not have to exert themselves at all.
In the book of Numbers, however, the equation has changed. The Israelites have completed the first part of their journey. They have left Egypt, reached Sinai, and made a covenant with God. Now they are on their way to the Promised Land. Moses’ role is now different. Instead of providing technical leadership, he has to provide adaptive leadership. He has to get the people to change, to exercise responsibility, to learn to do things for themselves while trusting in God, instead of relying on God to do things for them.
It is precisely because Moses understands this that he is so devastated when he sees that the people haven’t changed at all. They are still complaining about the food, almost exactly as they did before the revelation at Mount Sinai, before their covenant with God, before they themselves had built the sanctuary, their first creative endeavour together.
He has to teach them to adapt, but he senses – rightly as it transpires – that they are simply unable to change their pattern of response, the result of years of slavery. They are passive, dependent. They have lost the capacity for self-motivated action. As we eventually discover, it will take a new generation, born in freedom, to develop the strengths needed for self-governance – the precondition of freedom… Moses, with the insight of the greatest of the prophets, intuitively sees all this. Hence his despair and wish to die. It is far easier to be a technical leader than an adaptive one. It is easy to leave it to God, hard to realise that God is calling us to responsibility, to become His partners in the work of redemption. Of course, the Torah does not leave it there. In Judaism, despair never has the last word. God comforts Moses, tells him to recruit seventy elders to share the burden of leadership with him, and gives him the strength to carry on. Adaptive leadership is, for Judaism, the highest form of leadership. That is what the prophets did. Without relieving the people of their responsibility, they gave them a vision and a hope. They spoke difficult, challenging truths, and they did so with a passion that still has the power to inspire the better angels of our nature.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 28, 2015 | Torat Devorah
The Kohen’s blessing states that “May Hashem bless you and watch over you”. If Hashem blesses us, doesn’t He also watch over us? Rabbi Mordechai Katz comments: We are requesting that Hashem “bless” us with material wealth, and “watch over us” to protect us from misusing such wealth. We must always remember that it is Hashem’s blessing that entitles us to our lot and, accordingly, remain humbly grateful for, and charitable with, whatever wealth Hashem bestows upon us. Rashi notes that the blessing for Hashem to “watch over us” also includes our wish to be protected from the dangers — both physical and spiritual — that wealth can bring about.
“Speak unto Aaron and his sons, saying ‘this is how you are to bless the children of Israel.'” This verse describes the method of bestowing a blessing. However, the priests had not yet been previously commanded to bestow a blessing. Why doesn’t the Torah state the commandment to bestow a blessing before describing the method for its implementation? Rabbi Abraham Twerski explains: Aaron’s personality is described as “one who loved peace and pursued peace, one who loved people” (Pirke Avos 1:12). The Midrash interprets the verse in Proverbs (22:9), “one with a bountiful eye is blessed,” to also mean that one is who benign can also bestow blessings unto others. Hence, it was taken for granted that given Aaron’s (and, in turn, his sons) intense love for people, he would desire to bless them and that, accordingly, all that was needed was the method for doing so. The Talmud tells us that we must all be disciples of Aaron and emulate him. While the bestowing of formal blessings is a priestly function, one shouldn’t hesitate to offer one’s “blessing” to others. The Talmud’s instruction also reminds us that we should each adopt Aaron’s love for our fellow man and thus become one who naturally offers blessing.
The offerings of all of the leaders of the twelve tribes were identical. It is remarkable that the Torah describes in detail each such offering, particularly given the fact that we know that each word in the Torah has special meaning (in fact, many laws are derived from even a single word). Why then does the Torah elaborate about the offerings, when they could have been described much more succinctly? Rabbi Yitzchak Meir explains that while the offerings themselves were identical, each was an original offering for reasons of its own. Although each tribe chief brought the same offering, each one had his own reasons for doing so, and none simply imitated another. The Torah goes to such great length to emphasize the characteristic of individuality that is obviously of paramount importance. We live in age of “mass production” in many respects, yet we must never lose sight of the importance of individuality. Within the constraints of Torah law, there are many opportunities for individuality and creativity and it is these opportunities that have given vigor and vitality to Judaism throughout history.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 22, 2015 | Torat Devorah
The Torah states, “Hashem spoke to Moshe in the Wilderness of Sinai…” The Midrash cites the verse from Yirimiyah, “G’d said to the Jewish people, ‘You are the generation that witnessed the Word of G’d. Have I been a desert to Israel, a land of darkness? Yet you came with a claim against Moshe saying: Why did you take us up out of Egypt to die in the desert?’ Did I treat you as if you were in a desert? If a mortal king were to go out into the desert, does he have the tranquility and comfort of his own palace? Does he have the same amount of food and drink available to him? In the desert, I accommodated you with a setting that is the equivalent of a palace. With Clouds of Glory, I took you out of Egypt where you were slaves to Pharaoh. In addition, I gave you three redeemers who accommodated your needs…In the merit of Moshe, you were provided with the Manna. In the merit of Aaron, you were provided with the Clouds of Glory… In the merit of Miriam, who sang praises at the Sea, you were provided with the wellspring.”
Chazal tell us, “The Torah was given to those who ate of the Manna.” Meaning, the Torah was given to the generation who were sustained through the spiritual nourishment of the Manna. The Gemara in Tractate Yomah tells us that the Manna was heavenly food. It is referred to as “lechem abeirim” The Manna was composed of the spiritual nourishment that sustains the angels in physical form. Through their spiritual nourishment the Jewish people were able to comprehend and internalize the concepts of the Torah on the most profound level. Rabbi Yosef Kalatsky explains: Since Moshe was the individual who was qualified to be the conduit through which the Torah was given to the Jewish people, it is logical to say that the Manna, which is spiritual in its essence, should be given to them in his merit. Chazal do not reveal to us the linkage between the Manna and Moshe. The Clouds of Glory were given to the Jewish people in the merit of Aaron, the High Priest, who was the spiritual equivalent of his brother Moshe. The Clouds of Glory protected the Jewish people in the desert for forty years. What was unique about Miriam that her merit should provide the wellspring on behalf of the Jewish people for forty years? Miriam together with her mother Yocheved were the Jewish midwives who defied the dictate of Pharaoh to kill the newborn Jewish males. The Jewish people thrived in Egypt in the merit of Miriam and Yocheved. They did not heed the command of Pharaoh because “they feared G’d.” It was because of this exceptional level of reverence for G’d that they merited to have “houses.” Regarding Miriam, she merited to have the “house of kingship (malchus).” However, it was not because of this that she merited the gift of the wellspring, but rather the Midrash tells us it was because “she sang praises at the Sea.” Moshe sang the praises of G’d at the time of the splitting of the Sea for the men, but it was Miriam who led the women in song. Why was her expression of song so significant that the Jewish people should merit the wellspring on her on her behalf? Miriam articulated and delineated the praises of G’d in a unique and expressive manner to the women. Because she elucidated the events that transpired at the Sea in song, she brought the women to another level of clarity and appreciation of G’d. In addition, the women’s expression of praise was a public sanctification of G’d’s Name. Through Miriam’s articulation of what had transpired at the splitting of the Sea, she merited that the wellspring come about through her.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 14, 2015 | Torat Devorah
If you walk in My laws.”
The purpose of this world is to be factory to produce a product called olam haba the World-to-Come. However, you can read the Torah from cover to cover and you wont find one specific promise about the reward for keeping the mitzvot in the next world. Promises of reward in this world abound. We are promised the rains in their time; the land will give its produce and the trees will bear fruit; there will be an abundance of food that we will eat to satiety. We will dwell securely in our land. No one will walk down a dark street and be frightened. No one will worry about sending their children off on the bus in the morning. There will be abundance and peace.
Why is it the Torah makes no open promises about the reward for keeping themitzvot in the next world, but is replete with details of their reward in this existence?
The Rambam explains: All reward and punishment in this world is through hidden miracles. When a person eats a bacon/cheeseburger and dies prematurely, nobody knows that he died because he ate a bacon/cheeseburger. People die at his age when even when they dont eat bacon/cheeseburgers. They die younger. A person gives tzedaka and becomes rich. You dont see that he became rich because he gave tzedaka. There are plenty of rich people who dont give tzedaka they inherited it or they won the sweepstake. The hidden miracle is that this person wasn’t destined to become rich or wasnt supposed to die young, but because he gave tzedaka or because he ate non-kosher, G-d changed this person’s destiny. Its miraculous, but it’s hidden. It looks like nature, but if it were actually the work of nature, then nothing that a person did in this world could have any effect on himself. For a person is born under a certain mazal, a certain destiny and without the intervention of an outside force the hidden miracle nothing that a person did, whether for good or bad, would have any repercussions in this world. That’s why the Torah speaks at great length about the outcome of the performance (or non-performance) of the mitzvot in this world. For it is truly miraculous that our actions should affect anything in this world, a world that, aside from these hidden miracles, is run by a system of mazal and nature.
However, as far as the next world is concerned, its obvious that our actions will have repercussions there. The Torah doesnt need to stress the reward and punishment in that existence because its obvious that people who engage in spiritual pursuits and serve G-d faithfully should receive spiritual rewards. But it is certainly not natural that people who are immersed in the work of the spirit, the study of Torah and the performance of mitzvot should receive their reward in this world as well. Thus the Torah stresses the reward for keeping the mitzvot in this world because that is something that no one could surmise without being told of its existence.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
May 14, 2015 | Torat Devorah
In last week’s parsha we saw the mitzvah of “Honor your father and your mother.” So important is this mitzvah that it appeared on the side of the Tablets that dealt with mitzvos between man-and-G-d (the first four mitzvos concern the relationship between man-and-G-d, whereas the last five of the Ten Commandments, beginning with murder, are of the relationship between man-and-man).
If so, then it comes as a surprise to read in this week’s parsha the following: “The Kohen Gadol (High Priest) of his fellow kohanim, upon whose head the oil of anointment was poured and who was consecrated to wear the [holy] clothing, [the hair] of his head should not be in disorder, nor shall he tear his garments. Neither shall he go in to any dead body, nor defile himself for his father or his mother; nor shall he leave the Temple or profane the Temple of G-d … “(VaYikrah 21:10)
Now it is true that, technically, the mitzvah of honoring one’s father and mother ends with the parent’s death, and it is a mitzvah of honoring the dead that replaces it. Still, the line between the two is somewhat gray, and, at the very least, there is the appearance of a lack of respect for one’s parent should a child’s final respects not be paid properly.
When two mitzvos “collide” like this (being the Kohen Gadol and properly honoring one’s deceased parent), it is an indication that a more sophisticated understanding of each mitzvah is necessary.
Rabbi Pinchas Winston explains:The essence of the mitzvah of honoring one’s father and mother is the concept of “hakores hatov” (appreciating the good). Parents give life to a child, and whether or not they properly sustain that life, still, the gift of life is still the gift of life. In appreciation of that gift, a child is supposed to maximize the opportunity of life, which is the greatest honor the child can accord the parent. This too is going to become the basis of one’s relationship to G-d once the child matures into an adult.
One of the most important roles the Kohen Gadol played was to be a constant reminder of the source of good in life, and to enhance the appreciation of the entire Jewish nation of the gift of life, and the gift of Torah and mitzvos. He did this in many ways, but primarily, it was his singular devotion to G-d and spiritual perfection to the “nth degree” that best transmitted this message to the Jewish people in the Temple and beyond.
Hence, though normally one’s respect for his parent achieves the same goal, in the case of the Kohen Gadol, to leave his place of holiness and to break with his service of G-d would have accomplished just the opposite, since as the Kohen Gadol, he already symbolized the goal of showing such respect.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Apr 30, 2015 | Torat Devorah
The parashah begins by telling us to be holy. Rashi defines holiness as someone who is able to separate himself from aveiros that have to do with immorality. At first glance this seems strange, because normally we would think of holiness as coming from something that a person does in a positive way, rather than merely the avoidance of something bad. Separating oneself from something negative is not usually thought of as something that adds to the level of a person’s kedushah. Similarly, Rav Schwab questions one of the blessings that we make at a wedding: “Who made us holy through His mitzvos and He commanded us to separate from an ervah and arayos,” since we never make a brachah on something that is accomplished passively. Rav Schwab explains that from this brachah it is evident that a person who is able to prevent the yetzer hara from overtaking him in these areas is not merely passively avoiding that which is immoral. Rather, what he is doing has the status of an act. It is more than just not eating treifos and not putting on shatnez. One who is able to restrain from doing things he should not be doing is merited with having performed a positive act, something that brings kedushah.
The Torah reiterates the prohibition against eating blood, emphasizing the severity of the sin. The Torah states (Leviticus 17:10-12), “V’nah’tah’tee fah’nay ba’nefesh ha’oh’cheh’let et ha’dahm, v’hich’rah’tee o’tah mee’keh’rev ah’mah,” I [G-d] will turn my face [in anger] upon the soul consuming the blood, and will cut it off from its people. The Torah then declares why blood is prohibited (Leviticus 17:11), “Kee nefesh ha’basar ba’dahm hee,” for the soul of the flesh is in the blood. Blood, says the Torah, is the essence of life, and while one may eat the flesh of an animal, one may not benefit from the substance that bears the essence of the animal’s life. Parashat Acharei Mot also includes an important reference concerning the proper disposal of the blood of certain slaughtered animals. The ritual, known as “Kee’sooy ha’dahm,” covering the blood, is found in Leviticus 17:13, which states that one who traps a beast or bird that may be eaten [and slaughters it], “V’sha’fach et da’moh v’chee’sa’hoo beh’ah’fahr,” He shall pour out its blood, and cover it with earth.
Maimonidies (the Rambam, the great Jewish philosopher, codifier and physician, 1135-1204) maintains that the ancient pagans attached special significance to the blood of animals. Some considered it an agent of defilement, while others used blood for the purpose of communing with spirits and for fortune telling. Judaism, however, strongly prohibits any association with idol worship; hence, Jewish law forbade any use of blood.
Some of the commentators suggest that the blood of certain slaughtered animals is covered to show respect for life. This however applies only to “chayot,” wild animals and fowl, but not to domesticated animals. The procedure of “Kee’sooy ha’dahm” requires that the blood of the animal be poured on a layer of soil, which in turn had to be covered with another layer of soil as a blessing was recited.
The Or HaChaim suggests that since blood represents the life of the animal it should be accorded the same respect as the body of a human being who has died, and must be buried “by covering it with earth.” R’ Abraham Ibn Ezra states that the Torah is concerned that people who see blood spilled from a distance might suspect that the blood was from an animal that had actually been sacrificed to a heathen god. By covering the blood, a distinguishing sign is made that this was an offering to G-d, and not to an alien deity.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
