In this week’s Parshah too, the spies discovered that wherever they went, a plague struck down the Cana’anim and they were dying in large numbers. They concluded that the air of the land of Israel was unhealthy and prone to breeding plagues. They failed to see (or perhaps they did not want to see), that the Divine Hand was at work, protecting them, preventing their discovery by keeping the Cana’anim too busy to notice them, or at least, to be concerned with their presence. In this way, Hashem reckoned, they would be able to go about spying the land without hindrance. Yet they misconstrued Hashem’s chesed, mistaking His loving care for hatred.

The verse in Devarim (1:20) describes how Israel grumbled that night in their tents, how they declared that it was due to God’s hatred of Israel that He took them out of Egypt, to deliver them into the hands of the Ammorites to destroy them.  In fact, Rashi comments, He loved them, and it was they who hated Him! And he goes on to quote a famous folk-saying ‘What a person thinks about his friend, he believes that his friend thinks about him’. Presumably, this saying is based on the verse in “ke’Mayim ha’ponim le’ponim” (Mishlei 27:19).

The Zohar attributes the spies’ prejudice to the fear that, once they entered Israel, the old constitution would end, and a new era would begin, incorporating new leaders, who would replace them. Presumably, that is also what prompted them to renounce Hashem as a hater. In order to misconstrue Hashem’s motives in His interrelationship with us, it is not necessary to be guided by personal prejudices (though it does help). All that is needed is a lack of appreciation a. of Hashem’s extreme goodness; b. of the fact that He loves all his people, and c. the extent of that love.
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And you shall not go astray after your hearts and after your eyes … and you will be holy to your God” (ibid.). In spite of the fact that the Torah is addressing people who are prone to serve idols and to commit adultery, the verse nevertheless concludes with an injunction to be holy. It appears, remarked the Chofetz Chayim that no matter how low a Jew sinks, the Torah not only considers him capable of pulling himself out of the mire and of becoming a holy person, but that it actually expects him to do just that. But one could also explain the verse, not so much to stress the potential of a Jew, but to stress the power of mitzvot in general, and the mitzvah of Tzitzis in particular. Man’s body comprises the same components as an animal – to whose level he can sink without much effort. His soul has the make-up of an angel – to whose level he can rise, but only through hard work. To achieve this, G-d gave us the medium of mitzvot. What the Torah is teaching us here is that the mitzvot in general, and above all, the mitzvah of Tzitzis, will not only prevent us from sinking to the level of an animal (which instinctively follows its heart and eyes), but even have the power to raise us to the greatest heights, to make us holy like the angels.​​​​​​​

~Devorah Abenhaim

Rabbi Jay Kelman explains: Many commentaries assume the Jewish people were not lying. Fish, fresh fruit and vegetables really were available for free in Egypt. However it was free for one reason only; to enable the Jews to have enough strength to do their hard work. A hungry slave can not be a productive worker. So the Egyptians ensured that we were not to be hungry. How tragic that the Jews remembered the good food but not the real price they had to pay for it. This phenomenon is not unique to slaves. Many firms pay enormously high wages to attract the best of lawyers, investment bankers and the like. However the benefits often come at a high cost in time, stress and spiritual growth. There really are no free lunches.

Rashi (11:5), echoing the view of the Rabbis, declares that it was not fish and fruit that was the true source of their grumbling. Rather the “freedom” in Egypt to which they allude is freedom from responsibility. Chinam min hamitzvot (free from religious obligations) is how the Rabbis expressed the true feelings of the Jewish people. In Egypt there were no moral restraints or restrictions placed upon them. They could eat what they wanted, marry whomever they pleased, work seven days a week if they so desired and did not have to share whatever abundance they may have had with others. All of a sudden they were now bound by laws governing every facet of their lives.

For those to whom Torah is irrelevant no amount of suffering is tolerable. Just give us our freedom to do as we please, they plead. Those for whom Torah is a way of life realize that implementing Torah may at times entail discomfort and hardship. No worthwhile goal comes easily. And there is no goal more worthwhile than striving to apply the beauty of Torah to our daily lives. ​​​​​​​

~Devorah Abenhaim

The Lubavitcher Rebbe says that it is necessary for us to examine the reason why the Jewish people had to wander for 40 years in the wilderness. When the spies gave a negative report about the Land of Israel, the Jewish people were reluctant to enter the land God had promised them. God, therefore, punished the Jews with 40 years of wandering and decreed that those who had been unwilling to enter Israel would not be allowed to do so. But why did God choose a wilderness for their wandering, as opposed to another location?

A wilderness, the Rebbe explains, is uninhabited by man, and indeed, the desert that the Jewish People wandered through is described as “a great and terrible wilderness: snakes, poisonous serpents and scorpions, and thirst without water to quench.” The Children of Israel, through their travels, were charged with transforming that wilderness and purifying the negative forces that still had their hold on the Jewish people. The cloud that preceded them as they traveled destroyed the snakes, serpents and beasts that threatened their existence. By overcoming the obstacles in the desert the Jews brought light and Godliness into the world. The uninhabited wilderness became the dwelling place, for 40 years, of the millions of Jews who had just left Egypt, and the “unsown land” was blessed with water from Miriam’s well, causing all kinds of plants and trees to flourish.

The commandment to count the Levites charged with transporting the Sanctuary, underscored and gave spiritual strength to this higher purpose — the transformation of a wilderness into an inhabited land. This, too, is the responsibility of every Jew, in every era, no matter where he may live, to transform and elevate his surroundings by infusing them with holiness. If at times it appears that we are surrounded by insurmountable forces, we are to remember the mission with which we have been charged and the special Godly powers we are given to accomplish it. Just as the Children of Israel traveled from place to place by Divine command, so too is every Jew, by Divine Providence, faced with precisely those obstacles and challenges he is charged with overcoming. The Torah assures us that through our actions, we can succeed in turning any wilderness into a flourishing dwelling place for God.

We also learn from the fact that the Levites were not counted or required to carry the Sanctuary until the age of 30, that it is never too late to try to improve oneself. Even if our behavior has been less than admirable and undisciplined — in the category of “wilderness” — we must never become dejected and despair of achieving our spiritual goals. Once the decision to improve is made, God gives us the strength to serve Him, purify ourselves, and uncover the Godliness concealed within.

~Devorah Abenhaim

To further understand the importance of Ruth in Jewish History, Rabbi Y. Marcus gives a very succinct history: Ruth was a Moabite woman who converted to Judaism and became the great-grandmother to King David. She was a princess, the daughter (or grand-daughter) of King Eglon of Moab. The story takes place in the era of the Judges, culminating with the marriage of Ruth and Boaz in the year 968 BCE. As the story is told in the Book of Ruth and the Midrash, she becomes acquainted with the Jewish religion when she befriends a distinguished and wealthy Jewish family, Elimelech and Naomi and their two sons Machlon and Kilyon, who had moved from Moab to the Land of Israel because of a famine. She grows enamored with Jewish belief and custom and she and her sister Orpah marry Machlon and Kilyon. When Elimelech and the two sons tragically pass away — punishment for abandoning their Israeli brethren in their time of need, and a now impoverished Naomi is heading back to the Land of Israel (where the famine has ended),the two sisters wish to go with her. Naomi begs them to remain in Moab with their regal family and not to follow her to poverty and anonymity. She explains to them that they would have to convert to Judaism and the difficulties that would entail. Orpah indeed turns back, while Ruth persists. In the famous words that have come to epitomize the sentiment of the righteous convert she says to Naomi: “Wherever you go I will go; wherever you lodge I will lodge. Your nation is my nation; and your G-d is my G-d.” In the land of Israel she finds favor in the eyes of Boaz, a great Torah scholar and Jewish leader, who is impressed with her modesty and righteousness. He marries her even though there is opposition to the marriage. The opposition stems from the fact that the Torah says that one should not marry a Moabite (even one who converts). Boaz, however, explains that the Torah speaks only of a Moabite male; it was however permitted to marry a Moabite woman (who had converted). Boaz and Ruth give birth to Oved, who gives birth to Jesse, who gives birth to David, who is the ancestor of Moshiach.

Rav Shlomo Alkabez, in his commentary on Ruth, writes: “This megillah was written to authenticate King David and to publicize the concept that a Moabite woman may marry a Jew. Shmuel wrote this book to preempt any murmuring that might threaten the monarchy of the anointed king (David).”

Rabbi Yissocher Frand explains: “There was indeed controversy as to whether Boaz was permitted to marry Rus. Rus was from Moab. The simple reading of “Neither an Ammonite nor a Moabite shall enter the Congregation of the L-rd” [Devorim 23:4] would seem to preclude her ability to marry Boaz or any other native born Jew for that matter. There was a dispute that raged for generations whether the prohibition included female Moabites or just the males. Boaz made a bold move to demonstrate the permissibility of such a union, even though the closer relative (a man named Tov) refused to enter into such a marriage out of fear that it was prohibited. Shmuel, the prophet who anointed David as King, decided to set the record straight and recorded Boaz’s public decision to marry this woman — in Tanach. This explains, perhaps, why Rus is read on Shavuot. The story of Boaz’s bold decision to marry Rus dramatizes his faith in the veracity of the Oral Tradition. Boaz had faith in the “Halacha of Moshe tracing back to Sinai” that the interpretation of the above cited pasuk in Devorim is “An Ammonite male is forbidden, but not an Ammonite female; a Moabite male is forbidden, but not a Moabite female. ” When a Jew sits down on Shavuot, the holiday marking receipt of the Torah, he is confronted with the question of why Boaz did marry Rus. Why was he so confident that he was allowed to marry her? The answer is that he knew it was permissible because of the Oral Law. Shavuot is not merely the holiday celebrating receipt of the Written Torah. As indicated by the story of Ruth, Shavuot is also the holiday when we celebrate the receipt of and the veracity of the Oral Torah. The issue of the veracity of the Oral Torah was an issue in Talmudic times and it is an issue in modern times as well. When we tell people “the Torah says such and such,” they question us because they cannot find it in the Written Torah. So much of the divisions that we have with our non-observant brethren boil down to this point: Is there an Oral Law or not? On Shavuos, we come to this clear understanding that Torah means the Written Torah PLUS the Oral Torah. There is no better narrative than the Megillah of Ruth to drive home this lesson.”

~Devorah Abenhaim

According to rabbinic commentary, the way in which the census is taken, head by head, instills a feeling of self-worth and pride in each individual person. Moses could have instructed the heads of each family to report their number to him. Instead Moses counted each of the 603,550 Israelite men. This method certainly does not seem to be the most effective means of counting. And yet we can see that it was an important way for Moses to connect with each individual in a personal way.

Rabbi Lerner of Hillel Wisconsin explains: ‘Thomas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman, Jr., in their book, In Search of Excellence, wrote, “Treat people as adults. Treat them as partners; treat them with dignity; treat them with respect. Treat not capital spending and automation as the primary source of productivity gains. These are the fundamental lessons from excellent companies…” In other words, “If you want productivity and the financial reward that goes with it, you must treat your workers as your most important asset.” (A Torah Commentary For Our Times, p. 13, edited by Harvey J. Fields) Not only is this sound business advice, it is a very Jewish way to treat other people. So when we are involved in other people’s lives, let’s make sure our actions count.’

The Torah says,” These are the offspring of Aaron and Moshe on the day Hashem spoke to Moshe at Sinai: These are the names of the sons of Aaron…” Event though the verse begins by saying “These are the offspring of Aaron and Moshe” it only enumerates and identifies the offspring of Aaron. Rashi cites the Gemara in Tractate Sanhedrin which says that because Moshe taught Torah to the sons of Aaron they are counted as his children also. As it states, “If a person teaches Torah to his friend’s child it is as if he fathered that child.” Teaching Torah in this context means that the majority of the child’s Torah knowledge comes from his teacher and that the teacher is also the child’s mentor.

Rabbi Kalatsky asks: “The question is why is this principle so important for us to know that the Torah needs to teach us it from the verse dealing with the offspring of Aaron and Moshe? The answer is that the only way that Torah itself can be transmitted and internalized is through a rebbe. Just as the sons of Aaron became the sons of Moshe only through the transmission of Torah from Moshe so too the student becomes the son and the extension of his rebbe through is teaching and mentoring. It is only through this transmission that Torah can impact the individual and transform his essence. Therefore the verse in Pirkei Avos, “Make for yourself a rebbe and acquire a friend” is more than just “good advice”. It is a fundamental aspect of Judaism and the transmission of Torah from generation to generation. “

~Devorah Abenhaim

The parsha also specifies certain laws that apply in the event that a Jew is sold as a slave to a non-Jew. The Torah obligates other Jews to attempt redemption of the Jewish slave as soon as possible. Nevertheless, even when owned by a non-Jew a Jewish slave must be freed at the 50th sabbatical year, or yovel. In explanation, the Torah concludes: “ki li B’nei Yisroel avadim, avadai hem asher hotzeiti otam meeretz mitzraim. Ani Hashem Elokechem – Because B’nei Yisroel are servants to Me. They are my servants since I took them out of the land of Egypt. I am Hashem your G-d” (25:55). B’nei Yisroel cannot remain in a state of servitude to another person since they are naturally the servants of Hashem. The yovel year at least provides an automatic mechanism for the emancipation of all slaves. Our parasha nevertheless concludes with two pesukim (sentences) that seem out of place (26:1-2). They constitute a common refrain in which the Torah forbids idol worship, commands observance of the Shabbos, and reiterates the reverence we owe to the Beis Hamikdash (Temple). Why are these laws juxtaposed with the laws of Jewish slaves?

Shelomo Dobkin of NCSY explains: Toras Kohanim (9:4, quoted in Ramban) comments that the two verses actually refer to the case where a non-Jew owns a Jewish slave, and the juxtaposition reflects a deeper insight that physical service often produces similar religious practices. In other words, the Jewish slave working for a pagan master will quickly forget his obligations to Hashem, neglecting to abide by the prohibition against idolatry and neglecting his dedication to fulfill Torah commandments. Therefore, the Torah reinforces the essential elements of Judaism – monotheism, Shabbos (G-d as Creator of the world), and the Beis Hamikdash (the national center of G-d’s chosen people). These special reminders for the Jewish slave help him reject the influences of his non-Jewish master. The Seforno (26:2) views this special reminder to a Jewish slave owned by a non-Jew as a metaphor that can be extended to any region in which Jews live under the aegis of a foreign society. Just as the Jewish slaves of old, Jews throughout the world can benefit from these reminders in order to revitalize their dedication to our common heritage.

The theme of Parshat Bechukotai is the “Tochacha” – a series of devastating predictions of what will befall the Jewish people throughout history – exile, anti-Semitism, persecution, and more. Yet we know how much the Almighty cares for us, and He never “punishes” without “sandwiching” it with love. So it is not surprising that the “dire predictions” in this parsha also contain hidden blessings. Rabbi Shraga Simmons explains: ‘…For example, Leviticus 26:33, God declares that “I will scatter you among the nations.” This is a hidden blessing, because if the Jewish camp is geographically divided, then when one community is persecuted, the other can carry on. Also, Leviticus 26:22 says that when the Jews are in exile, the “Land [of Israel] will be desolate.” This is a hidden blessing, because throughout the millennia – as numerous empires conquered the Land, and countless wars were fought for its possession – astonishingly, no conqueror ever succeeded in permanently settling Israel or causing the desert to bloom. This, of course, made it easier for the Jewish people to return in the 20th century and resettle their homeland – a hidden blessing. God cares for us so deeply, giving us the confidence that in life, every cloud has a silver lining.’

If you will keep my mitzvahs … the land will yield its produce … and I will give you rain” (Lev. 26:3). It’s interesting that the Torah promises an abundance of material and physical blessings in exchange for following the Torah. Most of us would probably expect a promise of spiritual return such as the promise of Heaven, paradise, or eternal life. Rabbi Ron Jawary offers some insight into this verse: ‘Interestingly, the Torah never makes an explicit mention of life beyond this world. Perhaps what the Torah is teaching us is that we shouldn’t think the world and all the blessings in it have nothing to do with a spiritual life. The idea behind this could be that the physical, material blessings are truly spiritual blessings in that they provide us with an opportunity to connect to the Divine. The more we understand this, the greater is our opportunity to become a conduit for God’s blessings. In fact, the Talmud expands on this and points out that we all have certain skills and talents, and should strive to share those talents with those around us. In doing so, we’re taking the physical blessings we’ve been given and transforming them into an eternal spiritual connection with God.’

~Devorah Abenhaim

This is not simply about education. It is about modeling restraint.Because the laws that follow are not laws of action — they are laws of limitation The Kohen is restricted in whom he may marry, where he may go, what contact he may have with death. Holiness here is defined not by what the Kohen does, but by what he refrains from doing. And this theme quietly runs through the entire parasha.

In the modern mind, holiness is often imagined as inspiration, passion, spiritual highs. But Parashat Emor presents a different picture: kedushah as discipline. A Kohen may not become tamei to the dead except for closest relatives. The Kohen Gadol may not do so even then. Certain physical blemishes disqualify a Kohen from the avodah. Offerings must be without blemish. Time itself has boundaries — Shabbat and the festivals are precisely defined. Even blasphemy at the end of the parasha is punished not for an action, but for crossing a boundary of speech. Kedushah is the art of knowing where the line is — and not crossing it. This is why the parasha opens with the Kohanim. They are the living embodiment of a life lived within careful borders.

We live in a world that glorifies boundary-breaking. “Follow your feelings.” “Express yourself.” “Take every opportunity.” “You only live once.” Parashat Emor whispers the opposite truth: holiness lives in the spaces we do not enter. The Kohen does not go everywhere. He does not marry everyone. He does not touch everything. And because of that, he becomes a vessel for the Divine Presence. And the Jewish people do not treat every day the same. We step back from time itself, carving out sacred islands.

The parasha begins with the word Emor — speak. Holiness begins with awareness. With words. With the ability to articulate what is sacred and what is not. When adults speak about kedushah, and more importantly live it, children absorb it naturally. The Kohanim were the teachers of restraint for the nation.And the nation, through Shabbat and the festivals, becomes a nation of Kohanim in time. Holiness is not found in intensity. It is found in intentional limitation. That is the quiet powerful message of this week’s parshah.

~Devorah Abenhaim

Rav Kook uses this to explain a Pasuk in the section following that of the two Yom Kippur goats. The Torah states, “VeLo Yizbechu Od Et Zivcheihem LaSe’erim Asher Heim Zonim Achareihem,” “Bnei Yisrael will stop sacrificing to the demons which tempt them” (VaYikra 17:7). Rav Kook explains this Pasuk based on the internal conflict that exists within life. The demonic worship is the appreciation of the unrestrained barbarity in human nature. There is a philosophic belief that unless one knows evil he cannot achieve truth. Theoretically, the purpose of evil in this world is to help people find truth; however, evil has no place in practice. Therefore, once all sins and evil are transferred to the Azazeil goat, it is sent away from humanity to show that evil must also be sent away. Sending the Azazeil goat reinforces the idea that barbarity, while it must be acknowledged as a part of human nature, is not to be channeled, but rather is to be excised as much as possible. Humanity must be based on good and motivated self-improvement rather than pleasure for pleasure’s sake and the evil that comes with it. In Parashat Kedoshim, we read the famous verse: “You shall love your fellow as yourself” (Vayikra 19:18). This simple statement has perplexed many commentators and sparked many, many interpretations. For, as Ramban points out, it is in fact very difficult to love another as we love ourselves. The interpretations abound. Most famously, Rabbi Akiva states that this mitzvah is in fact the fundamental rule of the Torah (Nedarim 9:4). For him, no other principle covers the gamut of the Torah as well. Yet Rabbi Akiva also says, “Your life comes before your brother’s life” (Bava Metzia 72). Along comes Hillel who paraphrases the verse, stating that “What is hateful to you, do not do to others” (Shabbos 31a). Thus, we can understand that the verse implies not to do any harm, physical or financial, to another. The Torah is asking us to want for others the same level of success as we want for ourselves. Once again, this is difficult, as no matter how well we wish someone, we wish better for ourselves.

The Alter of Slobodka said, “The commandment is to love others ‘kamocha’, as you love yourself: instinctively, without reason”. Alternatively, Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel of Kopitchinitz suggests that this commandment is for us to love those that are not easy to love. Ben Petura goes a step further referring to this principle as “the book of the generations of man”. It is not merely to avoid doing harm and showing rachamim or mercy, but must include positive acts of kindness, gomlei chassadim. As with any quote, oftentimes, the context is left out. It is important to remember that the words following “you shall love your neighbour as yourself” are “I am Hashem” (Vayikra, 19:18). We are asked to remember that we are all created by G-d. The prophet Malachi states, “Have we not all one father? Has not one G-d created us? Why should we deal treacherously every man against his brother, profaning and breaking the covenant of our forefathers?” (Malachi 2:10). Rabbi Twerski highlights the words of Rabbi Akiva who calls this “fundamental principle” a klal gadol. Klal Gadol means all-encompassing principle. Thus, if this passuk is the klal, then all 613 mitzvot should make up part of the characteristics of the klal. Hence, every mitzvah must be performed with Ahavat Yisrael in order to be considered to be properly performed. Even when we pray, we should share our prayers with all of Israel. He reminds us as well of the words of Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler. Rabbi Dessler writes that it is not that we give to those we love, but rather we love to whom we give. “Meaning that in giving of ourselves to others, by investing ourselves in the lives of our fellow man, a part of us remains with that person and our love for them grows” (Michtave MeEliyahu vol.1). More practically, HaKrav V’HaKabbalah offer examples of how to fulfill this mitzvah. Do not feign affection; treat others with respect; always seek the best in others; greet others with friendliness; show empathy and join in their pain; see the best in them; assist physically, even if it is not for something difficult; be ready to assist with small loans and gifts; and lastly, do not consider yourself better than others.

~Devorah Abenhaim

The laws of tzora’as applied to both a house and a garment as well. If a garment showed signs of tzora’as, it might need to be burnt. If a house became marked by green or red streaks, it was boarded up for seven days. If the streaks then spread, the affected stones of the house were removed and replaced with new ones. The house was replastered; the old stones and dust were thrown into a specially designated unclean area outside the camp. If the signs lingered, the building might need to be demolished.

The Kohen had the ultimate responsibility to examine the person afflicted with tzora’as and to declare them pure or impure. The affliction seems to be historically related to leprosy except that in those days, leprosy was incurable and this affliction did seem to “run its course” in a matter of days or weeks. The sages interpreted this disease to be a punishment for loshen hara (evil speech). Miriam came down with the symptoms of tzora’as immediately after speaking out against Moses. In the Talmud, the word metzora is linked to the phrase ‘motzi shem ra’ which means “one who issues evil.” The sages spent an enormous amount of time and space in the Talmud discussing the evils of slander and gossip. In tractate Chullin (89a), the Gemara states: “What is a person’s proper craft in this world? He should make himself as though mute.” The Jerusalem Talmud relates loshen hara to idol worship. When a person worships an idol, they deny the existence of Gud. When a person speaks loshen hara, they may talk about someone “behind their back”, thinking that what the person does not hear, will not hurt them. This is also denying God, since He hears and sees everything.

​​​​​​​The prophet Micah (7:5) writes: “Guard the entrances of your mouth.” The sages compare the mouth to the entrance of a house. Just as we guard the front door of our house to prevent evil from entering, so to we must guard our mouths from making sure evil speech (loshen hara) does not leave. The Talmud states that loshen hara “kills” three people: the speaker, the listener, and the target of the slander or gossip. Additionally, the Torah in Sefer Bamidbar (19:15) states: “And every open vessel that has no bound lid on it, is ritually unclean.” The sages interpret this verse to apply to one’s mouth as an open vessel that becomes defiled with evil speech and is unfit to utter praises to God.

~Devorah Abenhaim

It is remarkably unclear what exactly Nadav and Avihu did wrong when they offered their ‘strange fire’ before the Lord – there are many hypotheses about what their sin or mistake was. Rabbi Shimon Felix comments: “I would suggest, however, that Aharon’s silence is a function of his role as parent, not as high priest, and tells us this: ultimately, there are things that one’s children do about which parents have nothing to say, decisions that children make that are beyond a parent’s ability to intelligently or productively comment on, explain, judge, influence, or take responsibility for.

In Jewish tradition, when a child turns bar or bat mitzvah, there is a somewhat strange blessing for the parents to recite – “Blessed be He who has exempted me from being punished for this one.” The idea is that our children, when small, are our responsibility; they are our responsibility to such a degree that we deserve to be punished for anything they may do wrong. Once they reach adulthood, however, this is no longer the case, and parents are no longer liable for the acts of their children. At the age of 12 or 13 (maybe a little later than that nowadays, I’ll grant you), parents need to begin to understand that children must, and will, go their own way, whether they like it or not; the “Blessed be He who has exempted me” blessing tells us that.”

Aharon’s silence is a similar expression of distance from the acts of his adult children. At some point, Aharon’s silence tells us, parents need to understand that they ultimately have nothing to say about the decisions made by their children, for better or worse.

​​​​​​​Whatever it was that his sons were doing in the Tabernacle, whatever place it was that they had arrived at in their lives, Aharon, their father, was not there. It was not his place, and, therefore, as a father, he had nothing to say about it. His silence is the only possible response to the fact that his children had, on their own, come to a very strange religious decision – one that he could not agree with, accept, or even comment on. Whether this is a good thing – as Moshe seems to argue – or not, is beside the point. For Aharon, the point is that he understood that his sons had acted as children ultimately must: independently, and there is nothing a father or mother can say or do to change that.

~Devorah Abenhaim