Parshas
haChodesh, as we’ve discussed in the past, is really more about Pesach than
Rosh Chodesh. In fact, it’s only one pasuk in the whole parsha that
speaks about Rosh Chodesh. The Torah seems to present kiddush hachodesh as
a prelude to the mitzvos of Pesach. Why do these two parshiyos go hand in
hand?
There is a
fundamental difference between Shabbos and Rosh Chodesh. The mitzvah of
Shabbos is preceded by “sheishes yamim ta’avod.” There is a mitzvah of
preparing for Shabbos. Chazal say that only “mi she’tarach b’erev Shabbos
yochal b’Shabbos.” Shabbos is the culmination of the cycle of the week.
Not so Rosh Chodesh. Rosh Chodesh precedes the events that will occur in
the upcoming month. It sets the tone for what is to be, and does not
depend on the energy and preparation of prior events. It is an
inauguration, not a conclusion.
Klal Yisrael
had known of Shabbos even while in Mitzrayim, but until Pesach, they had not
known of the concept of Rosh Chodesh. They understood that for those who
put in spiritual work and effort, G-d delivers rewards. What Rosh Chodesh
taught them is that G-d can deliver the rewards in advance, and the effort can
come later. This is the foundation upon which Pesach rests. Klal
Yisrael had little merit to speak of when they left Egypt; “ta’avdun es
haElokim al ha’har hazeh” was an event that would occur in the future.
Nonetheless, G-d promised them deliverance based on what would be.
That’s why,
explains the Shem m’Shmuel, the haggadah has a hava amina of “yachol mei’Rosh
Chodesh,” that maybe we could do sipur yetzi’as Mitzrayim from Rosh
Chodesh. Rosh Chodesh is the precedent that gives rise to a Chag
haPesach.
The gemara
(Shabbos 147) tells a story about R’ Elazar ben Arach: there was a place that
had great wine and bath houses and the ten tribes that were exiled there were
drawn in by the pleasures and vanished. R’ Elazar ben Arach decided he
was going to go to that place and check it out. After spending some time
there, the gemara says that he got an aliyah (maybe it was parshas hachodesh)
and instead of reading “hachodesh ha’zeh lachem” he read the words as “hacheiresh
haya libam” – their heart was deaf. The Chachamim davened that his learning
should be restored, and learned a lesson that even a talmid chacham should be “goleh
l’makom Torah” and not think he can live removed it.
Taken at face
value, it’s an incredible story. This is
the same R’ Elazar ben Arach about whom R’ Yochanan ben Zakai said that if all
the other Chachamim were placed on one side of a scale and R’ Elazar on the
other, he would outweigh them all. How
can this same R’ Elazar ben Arach go so far astray as to not even be able to
read a pasuk in chumash correctly?! From
a mussar perspective, I guess you would say that that’s exactly the point –
even someone so great can fall to the lowest depths. But maybe there is more to it than that.
If you’ve ever
davened mincha in, for example, a ba’al teshuvah yeshiva, you can find people
focusing on every word of davening like it’s Yom Kippur. Meanwhile, the guy who
has been davening mincha for the past 30 years knocks off his shmoneh esrei in
three minutes flat. The thrill is gone; the newness, the freshness is gone. We don’t remember what it’s like to daven for
the first time. R’ Elazar ben Arach could
have been one of the biggest Roshei Yeshiva and said shiur on the same cycle of
7 masechtos again and again for decades, but he knew that if that’s what he
chose to do, he risked losing that freshness and newness that comes with seeing
things the first time. So he sought out
people who could see things for the first time – he went out to the boondocks
and started a kiruv movement in a place where there was nothing left of Judaism
and where the lure of hedonism drew everyone in. He went out and lived among people who, when
they discovered Judaism, saw it as new and fresh. R’ Elazar knew that in order to experience “hachodesh
hazeh lachem,” hachodesh = chadash, newness, freshness, you need to first have “hacheiresh
haya libam.” Sure, putting himself in
that situation was a challenge and a step down from the amazing shiurim R’
Elazar might have been saying, but it ultimately was a step up, because the
vitality of those around him would rub off and R’ Elazar himself benefit from
that constant rejuvenation.
That’s the
upshot of the gemara, explains the Chernobeler in his Ma’or Eynaim. “Havei goleh l’makom Torah” – you have to
sometimes go out, go into galus, go to the boondocks, and there you will find
Torah as it should be experienced, as new, as fresh, as filled with
vitality. The truth is that you don’t have
to travel too far. There are plenty of souls that are deaf to Torah all around
us because no one has come along to open their ears. The truth is that we each have a little bit
of “hacheiresh haya libam” in us, but if we help each other out we can transform
it into “hachodesh (=hischadshus) hazeh lachem.”