katonti m'kol hachassadim -- chessed as an antidote to ego

1. There are two interpretations in the Midrash to Ya'akov Avinu's proclamation, "Katonti m'kol hachasadim."  One view is that Ya'akov was saying, "aini k'dai," that he is unworthy of Hashem performing a miracle for him.  The other view is that Ya'akov felt he was "k'dai," but that it would lead to "katonti," a diminishment of his merits.  The Sifsei Tzadik explains that this machlokes revolves around the same point raised in Shabbos 53b.  One of the Amoraim was miraculously given the ability to nurse his son after his wife passed away.  Rav Yosef remarked at how wonderful it was that this man should merit such a miracle, but  Abaye took exactly the opposite position -- how sad it is that the laws of creation should be changed on this man's account.  Rav Yosef looked at the occurence of the miracle as a positive outcome; Abayei looked at the high cost to a person's "spiritual pocketbook" as a negative.   Yes, the individual may be "'kdai," but the cost is still great.  (The other view held that if indeed a person is "kdai" there is no cost, or the benefit far outweighs the cost.) 

The Imrei Emes offers a psychological interpretation of the machlokes  On the one hand, a person should feel "k'dai," that Hashem values him so much that he would even do miracles on his behalf.  On the other hand, that feeling needs to be tempered by "aini k'dai," the recognition of one's own shortcomings and the acknowledgment that what Hashem does for a person is chessed, not fully earned. 

2. When the messengers Ya'akov sent to his brother Eisav return, the only information they provide to Ya'akov is that his brother is on the way with a large contingent of men with him.  What are Eisav's intentions?  Has he forgiven Ya'akov or is he intent on a fight?  Tosfos (Shabbos 12b) writes that angels can even read minds.  If Tosfos is right, asks R' Yosef Shaul Nathanson in his Divrei Shaul, according to the Midrashic view that the messengers Ya'akov sent were real angels, why were they unable to provide more insight other than a recounting of the surface facts?  It seems that angels are not in fact privy to people's thoughts and intentions.   (Perhaps one could suggest derech derush / speculation that an angel would be so repulsed by the mind of an Eisav that he would not want to immerse in his thoughts.) 

Those two were for those of you learning the daf. 

3. One would not be human if one did not take pride in one's own abilities and accomplishments.  We all have an ego; some a little bigger one, some a little smaller.  We all too easily sometimes forget that all our accomplishments would be impossible if not for chasdei Hashem.  When that happens, we need to be reminded to have a little perspective.  There are two ways that can happen.  The first way is for Hashem to give us a little patch to knock us down to size and remind us just how insignificant our power really is.  Along comes a hurricane that floods houses and cars, takes away heat and power, and suddenly our advanced society can't even provide people with basic necessities for survival. 

But there is another way as well, writes the Sefas Emes.  Hashem can give and give and give, more chessed and more presents and more good news, until a person is forced to say there is no way all this good could be the result of his/her own efforts or zechuyos -- there must be a higher power up there smiling down on them.  How can a person not feel small when such an overwhelming debt of gratitude is owed!  This is what Ya'akov Avinu asked for.  "Katonti" -- Hashem, remind me of my smallness, keep that ego in check -- but do it "M'kol hachassdim u'mkol ha'emes," through giving and giving, through boundless chessed, so that we are overwhelmed not by pain, but by feelings of gratitude. 

Ezri mei'im Hashem

1. The Midrash reads the word "harim," mountains, in "Esa einai el he'harim" as "horim," parents.  As Ya'akov approached the home of Lavan, where he would find his shidduch, he reflected on the fact that Eliezer had made a similar journey at Avraham's behest to find a wife for Yitzchak, his father.  However, what a great difference there was between the two journeys!  Eliezer had come bearing gifts of gold and jewels.  Ya'akov was empty handed.  Catching himself thinking such thoughts Ya'akov wondered, "Am I losing my trust in Hashem?" He immediately responded, "Chas v'shalom -- Ezri mei'im Hashem," he trusted in Hashem to make his shidduch ("ezri" hints to a wife, "eizer k'negdo").

The simple reading of the Midrash leads one to believe that Ya'akov was so disheartened by the dire situation in which he found himself that he suffered a momentary crisis of faith.  He quickly rallied his bitachon and moved on.  

The Chiddushei HaRI"M, however, learns the Midrash differently. It's not possible that Ya'akov Avinu, the "bechir" of the Avos, should have a crisis of faith.  Ya'akov's question was rhetorical -- "Am I losing my faith in Hashem?! -- obviously not.  Chas v'shalom, such a thing is not impossible.  So, wondered Ya'akov, why am I having such thoughts?  Why is my mind filled with the notion that I am somehow in desperate straits?

The answer is "Ezri m'im Hashem," these thoughts of despair are only there to raise me to an ever greater level of bitachon and an even deeper appreciation of what trust in Hashem means.  Faith that proves itself against challenges and hardship is even deeper and more meaningful than an untested trust.  

The focus of the Midrash is not on the development of Ya'akov from a person with doubts (c"v) to a person of greater faith.  The focus is on the concept of faith itself, redefining it not as an absence of doubt, but as the ability to overcome doubt.  

2. Whether you agree with the Ch. haRI"M's pshat or not, the question that begs asking is why the Midrash needed to introduce the point with the derash on "Esa einai el ha'harim" = "horim."  Why not just cut to the chase and say that Ya'akov was worried because he was going to Lavan'm home and did not have a penny in his pocket?  He was looking for a shidduch and couldn't even pay for a cup of coffee on a date.  What Eliezer brought along when he made the same journey is beside the point.

Apparently the money itself was in fact not Ya'akov's concern.  What bothered him more than the fact that he had not a penny -- Hashem could work out a shidduch even if he had no money -- was the fact that he was navigating uncharted waters.  He was not following in the footsteps, the "mesorah" of how to make a shidduch, setup by his father and grandfather. 

tefilah is required even when the outcome is guaranteed

After Avraham takes leave of Avimelech and forgives him for having taken Sarah, he davens on Avimelech's behalf.  The Torah in Parshas VaYeira then tells us that Hashem remembered Sarah and she gave birth to Yitzchak. Chazal see a causal connection between these two parshiyos. It was because Avraham davened on Avimelech's behalf so that Avimelech should have children that Avraham in turn was blessed with children himself. From here we learn the principle that one who davens for someone else's needs will in turn have his own needs provided for by Hashem.


R' Yechiel Michel Feinstein is bothered by this reading of causality into the parsha. The opening of Parshas Vayeira tells the story of the angels who visited Sarah and told her that she would give birth to a son one year later. Hashem had previously made the same promise to Avraham. Yitzchak's birth was preordained -- whether or not Avraham davened for Avimelech seems irrelevant.

From the fact that Chazal do see Avraham's tefilah as crucial, we see a tremendous yesod: Even though something may be promised and preordained, it still requires the added ingredient of tefilah to bring it to fruition.

We see this in Parshas Toldos as well. "Va'ye'etar Yitzchak," Yitzchak davened with great intensity that he and Rivka should have children. Wasn't Yitzchak the recipient of the bracha given to Avraham Avinu that guaranteed that Klal Yisrael would emerge from his progeny? "Why the need for such intense tefilah?" asks the Seforno -- Yitzchak's having children was a sure thing?! The answer once again is that brachos and nevuah are not sufficient so long as tefilah is missing (I read the Seforno as making two points -- Yitzchak was davening for children and for those children to come through Rivka, not just the latter point).

Commenting on, "V'Yitein lecha Elokim m'tal hashamayim," Rashi writes that the bracha should be given to Ya'akov "b'din," i.e. it should be something Ya'akov deserved based on merit. The Shem m'Shmuel asks: If Ya'akov deserved the rewards based on his own merit, what does he need the bracha for? I think the answer yet again is that even if Ya'akov deserved to receive "m'tal ha'shamayim u'mishmanrei ha'aretz," without Yitzchak's tefilah/bracha that reward might not become a reality.

tefilah and emunah that all is for the best -- a contradiction in terms?

1. In the previous post I mentioned the Radomsker's suggestion that Eliezer merited kefitzas ha'derech and was able to complete his journey to Avraham's birthplace in one day because he had such a love of Avraham's torah that Hashem arranged for him to not miss a single shiur from his rebbe, Avraham Avinu.  From here we see that Hashem will do the miraculous to bring a person's desire for torah to fruition.

I want to follow that thought up with a Chasam Sofer in this week's parsha.  We know that a person receives reward not only for the actual performance of a mitzvah, but for the preparation and travel time as well.  For example, the gemara tells us that a person gets reward for the walk to shul -- the longer the walk, the more the reward.  When Ya'akov Avinu, disguised as Eisav, came to serve his father a meal just a short while after Yitzchak had sent Eisav out to hunt, Yitzchak asked his son, "Mah zeh miharta limtzo b'ni?"  "Why are you back so early?" Given that Hashem rewards a person for every step and every effort done in the performance of a mitzvah, Yitzchak wondered why Hashem would allow Eisav to return so quickly from the hunt.  Why the mini-kefitzas derech here?

A few pesukim later the Torah reveals the answer.  Yitzchak recognized that the voice he heard was, "Ha'kol kol Ya'akov," which Chazal explain is a reference to the voice of Torah learning coming from batei midrashos.  The value of schar halicha is more significant than anything else you might otherwise put time and effort into, with one exception: talmud torah.  If the additional travel time it takes to go to the further shul, to stay out hunting a little longer to fulfill kibud av, means that time is taken away from learning, then the loss exceeds the gain.  "Ha'kol kol Ya'akov" -- Yitzchak recognized that his son was engaged in learning, and understood that Hashem would therefore arrange for his hunt to be concluded as fast as possible so Ya'akov could get back to the beis medrash.

2. I want to focus again on the theme of tefilah, as I really think the many problems we face communally demand that we intensify our efforts and dedication to davening.

A few weeks ago we discussed Rashi's comment that Sarah was angry at Avraham when Yishmael was born to Hagar because she felt Avraham had failed to daven on her behalf.  In contrast, Yitzchak made sure Rivka was aware that he was davening on her behalf, as the Torah tells us, "VaYe'etar Yitzchak l'nochach ishto." In fact, from the stress on "l'nochach ishto" it seems that Yitzchak davened only for his wife without regard for his own feelings.  R' Shlomo Kluger (in Imrei Shefer) explains that Yitzchak was raised in the home of the gadol ha'dor, Avraham Avinu, and internalized the lesson that whatever Hashem dished out could only be for his own good.  If Hashem chose for him to not have children, who was he to protest?  Yitzchak, after all, was willing to go to the akeidah with no questions asked!  Rivka on the other hand did not come from this same type of background.  As the Torah reminds us just a few pesukim earlier, she was "Bas Besuel... achos Lavan," the daughter of Besuel and sister of Lavan (see Rashi).  Rivka's expectations would have been very different than that of her husband Yitzchak's.  Therefore, in deference to her feelings, Yitzchak davened on her behalf that they be blessed with children.

I am not sure what to make of this vort in light of the gemara (Yevamos 65) that the Imahos all had difficulty having children because Hashem desired their tefilos.  Rav Dessler writes that the greatest chessed Hashem can give us is the ability to come close to him.  What the gemara means is that Hashem withheld the chessed of allowing the Imahos to bring children into the world in order to provide them with the greater chessed of bringing them even closer to him through their tefilos.   I am not bothered by there being competing explanations as to why Rivka more so than Yitzchak felt pressed to daven or to have Yitzchak daven on her behalf, as in many areas there often are multiple competing explanations in pshat and derash.  I am bothered by the underlying philosophical contradiction between the two approaches.  According to Chazal, Hashem did not want the Imahos to be complacent in the face of difficulty -- He wanted them to respond by calling out in tefilah.  Tefilah is an ideal to aspire to, not a b'dieved.  Yet according to R' Shlomo Kluger, tefilah seems to reflect a lack of the highest level of emunah, which is complete acceptance of any and all situations, no questions asked.

Does it make sense to pose the same question outside the context of the parsha?  If a person really feels "kol mah d'avid Rachmana l'tav avid," that whatever Hashem does is for the absolute good, meaning that any pain and suffering he/she may experience is really the best situation he/she could possibly be in, then why should a person even daven?  Ironically, the mitzvah of tefilah as it appears in the Torah is precisely a response to "batzar lecha,,,,," a request for relief from pain and suffering -- not tefilah of shevach v'hoda'ah.  Isn't every request from Hashem to change the situation for the "better" a reflection of a lack of emunah that Hashem has already put the person in a situation that is best -- there is no "better"?  
 
I don't think the question gets off the ground if framed in that way, as it fails to take into account our ability to exercise free choice.  "Kol d'avid *Rachamana* l'tav avid" -- whatever Hashem does to us is for the best, but what we do to ourselves because of our frailties, our shortcomings, our tendency to succumb to temptation, is to our own detriment.  If a person chooses to put him/herself in a situation of spiritual harm, Hashem will do what is best for the person given the circumstance, but things might have turned out better had that circumstance never arisen to begin with.  Tefilah reflects our desire to change the situation, to adjust the circumstances.  It's the recognition that we have created a problem and the hope that by coming closer to Hashem we can undo it. 

That answer provides little satisfaction in the context of our parsha.  The Imahos did not choose to be barren -- they were thrust into that situation willy-nilly.  How then do we square the gemara's statement that Hashem did so to ellicit their tefilos with the Imrei Shefer's idea that acceptance of the situation is the highest level of emunah?  I don't have a good answer -- what do you think?

3. There is another Midrash that teaches the reason why Rivka was barren for so many years is so people should not say the tefilah of Lavan and Besuel that we read in last week's parsha, "At he'yei l'alfei revava," is what caused Rivka to have children.  (Yes, this does seem to contradict the gemara in Yevamos 65 -- see Rinas Yitzchak).  I assume the Torah does not need to teach us a silly hava amina is wrong -- it's only a hava amina that might have some legitimacy that would warrant a counter-argument.  Apparently in spite of Rivka's own tzidkus, in spite of her being married to the gadol ha'dor Yitzchak Avinu, we might have thought that without the addition of the tefilos of the wicked Besuel and Lavan they would not have merited to have children.  Kah mashma lan the Midrash that this would be a factual error, but I don't think the Midrash means to say it would be a philosophical error.  In truth so potent is the power of tefilah that even the prayers of such absolute resha'im as Besuel and Lavan can theoretically impact and influence events even beyond what tzadikim might otherwise accomplish through their good deeds alone.

We are not a community of Lavans and Besuels.  Surely our tefilos, as meager as they are, can make a difference. 

More to say on this maybe another time.  I apologize for being more and more pressed for time and having to push blogging to the side, but such is life.   

the hurricane, the snow, and the tent of the Imahos

There is still no power in much of Far Rockaway and Bayswater (and other neighborhoods -- I mention these in particular because they are closest to where I live), homes have been ruined, gas is in short supply all over NY, and people desperately need help.  To top it off, we got hit with a no'reaster yesterday that knocked out some of the power that had been restored.  There are a number of organizations working to provide relief that you can reach out to if you want to provide assistance or need assistance, among them Achiezer and Five Towns Chabad.   

When our power came on I reminded my kids of the story of R' Chaim not wanting to sleep in his bed after Brisk was hit with a fire because he could not bear to have any pleasure while others were suffering.  My son's Rosh Yeshiva quoted a Rav in another community who suggested that they skip putting sugar in their coffee so that they would be mishtatef b'tzar'as hatzibur, even if in some small way.  I would suggest that even if you can't provide physical support or contribute financially, you can still do something -- you can be mispallel for the well being of those in need.  My gut tells me that davening with a real feeling of empathy for others qualifies as being mishtatef b'tzarasam as well.

I heard one Rav remark on all the Torah learning lost because of lack of power, schools being forced to close, etc.  Last week my son's yeshiva transformed the lunchroom of a neighboring girls school which had a backup generator into a beis medrash.  (The girls stayed home, as there was not enough power for the whole building).  It was heartening to see the mesirus nefesh of the bachurim to show up to a cold building (lights were on but heat was in short supply) to keep normal sedorim amidst the chaos. The yeshiva has since gotten some backup generators for its own building, but let's hope they get real power soon.

Chazal tell us that Eliezer experienced a miracle and made it from Avraham's home to Rivka's town in one day.  Why did such miracle happen?  Eliezer was "doleh u'mashkeh torah rabbo," he cherished every word of torah, every lesson he could learn from Avraham.  The Radomsker explains that Eliezer could not bear to be away from his Rebbi for a single day.  Therefore, Hashem gave him the bracha of a speedy one day trip.  Hopefully our love of the warmth and light of Torah will make an impression in shamayim and bring us light and warmth in gashmiyus as well. 

I was thinking this past Shabbos of YaVeira that the parsha was appropriate in more ways than one.  The bright side, for you glass-is-half-full folks, was the outpouring of hachnasas orchim and chessed to those who had been displaced by the storm.  Avraham would be proud of his children.  And then there is the other side, for us glass-is-half-empty realists.  It was not as cataclysmic as the destruction of Sdom, but the storm was in some ways far more tragic, as we are not speaking of Sdom -- we are speaking of frum communities hit with tremendous loss.  The Rambam writes (Hil Ta'anis perek 1):

אבל אם לא יזעקו ולא יריעו אלא יאמרו דבר זה ממנהג העולם אירע לנו וצרה זו נקרה נקרית. הרי זו דרך אכזריות וגורמת להם להדבק במעשיהם הרעים. ותוסיף הצרה צרות אחרות. הוא שכתוב בתורה והלכתם עמי בקרי והלכתי גם אני עמכם חמת קרי. כלומר כשאביא עליכם צרה כדי שתשובו אם תאמרו שהיא קרי אוסיף לכם חמת אותו קרי:

We have to think about what we can do better and why such events happen.  I'm not a navi -- you can make your own cheshbon hanefesh.   I am just encouraging that it be done, maybe not now, when we are all suffering, but in the weeks and months ahead when we have time to reflect.  Right now, there is too much suffering that yet needs to be alleviated.

As if the storm wasn't enough, there was the election  this past week.  Let me keep it simple: We are on a road to economic and social doom.  The only question is how long or short the road is.  That's all I want to say.  I also fear (as I have said before) that our bretheren in the Holy Land cannot rely in any way on the support of the current administration.  Why frum Jews would ignore that obvious fact is beyond me. 

Havolim already beat me to discussing the miracles of the light that burned from Shabbos to Shabbos in the tent of the Imahos, the bracha in the dough, and the cloud which enveloped their tent.  These miracles find their parallel in the Ohel Moed: the ner ma'aravi of the menorah which burned continuously, the lechem ha'panim that was as hot as the moment it was taken from the oven even after sitting out on the shulchan for a week, and the clouds which enveloped the camp and protected Bnei Yisrael.  The Ohel Moed that we shared as a community was a model of the personal ohel of the Imahos.  

What are we supposed to take away from these miracles?  

Hopefully each Shabbos we celebrate gives us a burst of spiritual energy and uplift.  We all know, however, that that spiritual booster shot wears off.  For some people it's gone by the time they get to the movie theater motzei Shabbos, for other people, it lasts a little longer into the week.  In the tent of the Imahos, the Shabbos candles never burned out -- the spirit of Shabbos, the booster shot of ruchniyus, never wore off as the week progressed.  

After you've been sitting in a cold house living by candlelight for a few days, you really appreciate a hot meal in a warm, well lit environment.  You can bet the bracha before that meal and the birchas hamazon afterwards has more meaning.  The dough of the Imahos gave that feeling all the time.  The warmth of the lechem hapanim, the spiritual energy that radiated within, never wore off.  

And finally, there were the clouds.  To tell you the truth, most of us living in the Northeast of the US are pretty sick of seeing and hearing about clouds and probably don't see them as a bracha right now : )   I know it's not pshat at all, but you can allow me a little license for derush. Perhaps the idea of "anan kashur al ha'ohel," the cloud "tied" to the tent, means that the clouds of adversity and challenge faced by the Imahos were always were "tied" to and placed in the context of the ner and bracha of the bread that were also part of the ohel.  If adversity exists in a vacuum, without a spiritual anchor to help a person get through the storm, the consequences can be permanently damaging.  In such a case it is the hurricane storm clouds that uproot the ohel.   The spiritual ohel that the Imahos bequeathed to us  enables us to corral challenges and adversity and overcome them with bracha.

lessons in tefilah from Avraham and Sarah

After Hagar gave birth to Yishmael she began to suspect that perhaps the reason Sarah did not have a child was because Sarah was not as righteous as she appeared. Sarah complained to Avraham, "Chamasi alecha!" (16:5). The word "chamas" literally means theft. What did Avraham steal? Rashi explains that Sarah accused Avraham of davening on his own behalf and not hers as well. Therefore, he was blessed with a child through Hagar but she remained barren.

A number of chiddushim worthy of attention here:

1) Theft does not just mean taking something that doesn't belong to you; it can also mean withholding something that should be given to another. Whether it's a tefilah for someone, a compliment, a good word, a good deed -- not responding with empathy and kindness to another's plight robs them of the chessed deserved (Rav Shach in Machsheves Mussar elaborates on this point a few times). My wife recently cited in one of her posts the Zohar in Parshas Tazriya (87): Just as a person is punished for hurtful speech, so too is one punsihed for not speaking well of someone when afforded the opportunity to do so (see Sefas Emes (Metzora 5661)).

2) The gemara (Yevamos 64) tells us that Sarah was physically incapable of having children. It would take no less than a miracle for her to have become pregnant. One would have thought that it would be a waste of breath to even daven for such an impossible turn of events. Nonetheless, explains R' Nosson Wachtfogel, Avraham should have davened. There is no limit to what we can ask of Hashem in our tefilos. Of course, he may not give us what we want -- but that doesn't mean we shouldn't ask.

3) It is almost impossible to believe that Avraham did in fact daven only for himself and not for Sarah. The reason Avraham is criticized becomes apparent when we contrast his behavior with the Torah's description of the tefilah of Yitzchak for Rivka. "Vaye'etar Yitzchak l'Hashem l'nochach ishto" --the Torah makes specific mention of the fact that Yitzchak davened opposite his wife, within her proximity.  Avraham of course davened for Sarah -- but he never let her know he was davening for her. The Torah is telling is that it's sometimes not enough to just care; we also need to let the other person know it.  (It was entirely by chance that I saw this idea quoted here by R' Tzvi Shiloni, a RA"M in YNA, in the name of his father and then it dawned on me this R' Shiloni and I were in 9th grade together,which is neither here nor there.)

mesirus nefesh for halacha while running away from G-d

Rashi comments on "Vayisa Lot m'kedem," that by leaving Avraham and moving to Sdom Lot was moved away from "Kadmono shel Olam" = G-d. That's quite a mouthful of a comment. There are lots of folks who prefer to live in neighborhoods that are less "restrictive," where you can dress as you like and have a little more freedom to do what you want without a holier-than-thou neighbor around to watch. And it doesn't hurt to have a nice job and a comfortable house, even if that means living next door to the Joneses instead of the Cohens. Such is the nature of running away from the "Kadmono shel Olam" -- it's so easy and so justifiable you don't even realize that's what's going on.

I saw this idea in a sefer presented far more sharply. Lot practiced the hachnasas orchim he learned in Avraham's home even in the midst of Sdom -- he was moseir nefesh to keep to tradition! The picture you have to conjour in your mind is someone who moves away from the old country to some far flung place and, despite the hostility of the new environment to his whole belief system, still keeps to his old minhagim with complete dedication and self-sacrifice. Lot undoubtedly saw his hachnasas orchim, his behavior and lifestyle, as a continuation of the path set by Avraham Avinu, albeit in a different environs, one where he found more opportunity and comfort.

Despite Lot's attempt to delude himself, this is the person who the Torah describes as fleeing from the Kadmono shel Olam. Life in Sdom and life lived in accordance with Avraham's philosophy are mutually exclusive paths. Just because a person displays mesirus nefesh does not erase the fact that he may just be a misguided Lot.

(I think Lot's mesirus nefesh for hachnasas orchim is an example of seizing on ritual or certain particular mitzvos as an ends unto themselves, divorced from the larger picture of what Torah is all about.  Need I give examples of all kinds of hedonistic gashmiyos being pursued so long it can be done while certain basic ritual observance remains uncompromised?)

There is another way to look at Lot here that is perhaps a bit more charitable. By way of introduction, later in the parsha, when Hagar is thrown out by Sarah, a malach appears to her and asks her where she is coming from and where she is going. The Seforno explains that these are not two questions but one. The malach was challenging Hagar: Look at the house of tzadikim which you have been living in for years -- you are leaving that to go back home to your world of avodah zarah? You gave up the life of a princess, you gave up fame and fortune, to join Avraham and Sarah because you recognized the moral superiority of their lifestyle, and now you want out?

What was Hagar's answer to the malach? R' Yerucham Lebovitz in Chochma u'Musar explains that Hagar did not deny that she indeed had benefited and absorbed much from the tzidkus of Avraham and Sarah. Hagar did not deny that there was no comparison between the moral plane Avraham and Sarah lived on and that of the rest of the world. Hagar's answer was that precisely because she had spent so many years under the wing of Avraham and Sarah learning from their ways, appreciating the beauty of their lifestyle, that she felt she could now leave. When she was searching for Truth, she needed Avraham and Sarah's guidance even at the cost of leaving the riches of her former home. Now, years later, why should she remain in Avraham and Sarah's home under difficult conditions -- she had already absorbed the teachings they had to offer, so why not venture off to start a new life elsewhere? (Don't ask me how to read this into the text -- I'm not sure.)

The malach responded by telling Hagar to return to Sarah even if she feels oppressed. You, Hagar, feel ready to leave only because until now you have been sheltered and protected from the threat of the outside world. Don't risk the temptation -- it may be uncomfortable, but that harsh mussar that Sarah is giving is part of the growth you still need.

R' Sorotzkin in his Binah u'Bracha explains that Lot had left everything behind to travel to Canaan with Avraham. He had spent years under the tutelage of Avraham. absorbing his every teaching, watching how Avraham was mekareiv those around him. Fortified with those years of spiritual growth, Lot therefore thought there was no danger in setting of on his own, even in his moving to an environment like Sdom. Perhaps he even thought he would gain the uppter hand and turn them around to good, just as Avraham had influenced so many others.

It is easy to delude oneself into thinking that one has absorbed enough of the ruach of yeshiva, of a close knit community, of a makom Torah, etc. and one can move on independently to other places and challenges. Sometimes it works out, but sometimes its just a false delusion. Deep cheshbon hanefesh is required.

Nira'sa ha'kashes b'yamecha? -- Was a rainbow seen in your lifetime?

The gemara (Kesubos 77b) relates that R' Shimon bar Yochai greeted R' Yehoshua ben Levi in Heaven with the question, "Was a rainbow seen during your lifetime?"   The rainbow is the sign of Hashem's promise to Noach not to destroy the world again.  RSHb"Y was trying to gauge the level of tzidkus of R' Yehoshua ben Levi -- did his generation need to invoke the promise of the rainbow to escape punishment, or was RYb"L's own tzidkus enough to protect them?

R' Yehoshua ben Levi replied that rainbows did appear during his lifetime (in truth there weren't any, but R' Yehoshua ben Levi did not want to openly reveal his tzidkus).  RSHb"Y replied that if so, R' Yehoshua was not really the son of the great R' Levi, his father -- RSHb"Y was in effect calling him a disappointment. 

RSHb"Y's test seems at first glace to be quite harsh.  As great as any one tzadik's merits are, he is but a single individual.  The gemara tells us that there were tzadikim who were worthy of receiving ruach hakodesh but were denied that gift because they lived in a generation that was not worthy of such a level of hashra'as haShechina.  Why did RSHb"Y find it so unimaginable that R' Yehoshua ben Levi was a tzadik of the highest calibar but despite his great personal tzidkus, he lived in a society that still needed that rainbow to ward off punishment? 

"Kol she'lo nivneh Beis HaMikdash b'yamav k'ilu necherav."   Here too, even tzadikim seem to take the blame for the Beis haMikdash not being rebuilt in their lifetime, as if they could single-handedly bring it about.  The Kozhnitzer Maggid quotes the Alshich as explaining that the key word in this teaching of Chazal is "b'yamav."  It should not be translated as "in one's days," but rather as "with one's days."  Each and every person's day to day actions contribute (or c"v the reverse) in some way to the ultimate rebuilding of the Mikdash.  Of course no one individual can do it all. What every individual is responsible for is doing his/her part to the utmost.  

RSHb"Y was not asking R' Yehoshua ben Levi whether his merits removed the need for the rainbow for the entire world.  He was asking, "Nira'sa ha'kashes b'yamecha?" -- Have you, R' Yehoshua ben Levi, done all you could with your own time, your own days, to obviate the need for that rainbow? 

thinking like Tosfos

1. Last post we discussed the significance of Adam's name coming from the word "adamah," dirt.  I just wanted to add that we can now better appreciate Hashem's words to Adam upon expelling him from Gan Eden.  Hashem tells Adam that he must now work "ha'adamah asher lukach mi'sham."  What is this dirt taken from Gan Eden that Adam had to labor over?  Answers the Sefes Emes: It was Adam himself.  

2. The Belzer Rebbe, R' Sar Shalom, has a wonderful psychological insight based on a careful reading of the pesukim.  When Hashem commanded Adam not to eat from the eitz ha'da'as, He specified the tree by its exact name -- "M'eitz ha'da'as tov v'ra lo tochal mimenu," "Do not eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil."  However, when Chavah  told the snake what Hashem had commanded, she does not name the tree, but instead only obliquely refers to it, saying that, "M'pri ha'eitz asher b'toch ha'gan... lo tochlu mimenu," she could not to eat from the tree in the middle of the garden (3:3). 

Chavah was torn between the temptation to eat from the tree and the knowledge that Hashem had referred to the tree as "tov v'ra," as good and evil.  This created a horrible feeling of cognitive dissonance that Chavah tried to escape by avoiding naming the tree.  It was no longer the source of "tov v'ra," but just another tree in the middle of the garden. 
  
The snake recognized the significance of Chavah's inability to name the tree and immediately capitalized on the situation.  He told Chavah that once she ate, "V'hiyisem k'Elokim yod'ei tov v'ra," she would possess knowledge like G-d himself (3:5).  He reduced Chavah's cognitive dissonance even further by explaining away the troublesome phrase of "tov v'ra" as not being a description of moral confusion that would result from eating, but rather a description of the potential knowledge that Chavah would come to possess.  Chavah could now persuade herself that there was in fact nothing really wrong with eating and give into temptation.

Most of us know what's wrong is wrong, but we want to do it anyway, so we also work out our cognitive dissonance by avoidance, by explaining things away, and all kinds of other defense mechanisms to avoid facing reality.  Things don't change much in the battle with the yetzer ha'ra.

3. I apologize for most of the blogging being reduced to short stuff on the parsha -- I just don't have much time, so hopefully this is better than nothing.  I haven't had time to write an amazing pshat in a Rambam that R' Naftoli Jeager, Rosh Yeshiva of Shor Yoshuv, said in his leil hoshana rabbah shiur, but I want to mention something else he related which is easier to write over.  He said that once visited R' Elyashiv and the person he was with told R' Elyashiv a story about the Nachalas Dovid (I have heard the same story told about R' Chaim for whatever that's worth).  Someone quoted a chiddush from a  Tosfos to the Nachalas Dovid, but the Nachalas Dovid insisted that Tosfos said no such thing.  No matter how much the person protested that he remembered the Tosfos, the Nachalas Dovid would not listen.  Finally, they got a gemara and checked and sure enough the Nachalas Dovid was right.  The Nachalas Dovid told the person that he should not think that he, the Nachalas Dovid, knows every Tosfos in shas by heart.   What he does know is how Tosfos thinks.  Therefore, he was certain Tosfos could never say what this person was putting in Tos mouth.

RavElyashiv said that he does not believe this story is true.  It is impossible for us to fathom the depths of how a Tosfos thinks, how a Rishon thinks, how an Amora thinks, how a Tanna thinks.  A person can never be 100% sure that they know what went on in Tosfos' mind and therefore say it is impossible for Tos to have said something.  All we can do is try to analyze what we know they do say and try to arrive at some understanding of their words.  

R' Jaeger went on to give an example from a sugya in Sukkah of a gemara that is nearly incomprehensible on a level of pshat to illustrate how the amkus of Chazal is simply on a level that we cannot fathom.  No matter how sharp a person is, there is always something more that is unknown, proving that ultimately we fall short of truly thinking like the giants of the past.

If this is true of the Nachalas Dovid, if it's true of R' Elyashiv, need I say this is true for lesser folks as well?  

4. Looking ahead to Noach: I haven't really looked around too much yet, so this is just thinking out loud.  I don't know why the Torah tells us that Shem and Yefes placed the garment they used to cover Noach on their shoulders when they walked backward towards him to cover his nakedness (9:23), but what really bothers me is the hey hayediya in that pasuk -- they took "ha'simlah," the garment.  Is there some particular garment the Torah is referring to?  Why not a garment -- why the garment?  

Gut chodesh!

my name is mud

It is very hard to get back into the swing of work after a long Yom Tov, so once again little time to write.  Two brief thoughts on the parsha:

 א"ר אחא בשעה שבא הקב"ה לבראת את האדם נמלך במלאכי השרת אמר להן נעשה אדם אמרו לו אדם זה מה טיבו אמר להן חכמתו מרובה משלכם הביא לפניהם את הבהמה ואת החיה ואת העוף אמר להם זה מה שמו ולא היו יודעין העבירן לפני אדם אמר לו זה מה שמו אמר זה שור זה חמור זה סוס וזה גמל ואתה מה שמך אמר לו אני נאה להקרא אדם שנבראתי מן האדמה

1. The Midrash writes that when Hashem consulted with his angels in creating man, the angels asked, "What is man's nature?"  Hashem responded that man is greater in wisdom then they are.  He brought before the angels each of the animals that had been created and asked them what its name was.  The angels were unable to answer.  However, when Hashem brought each animal before man, man gave a name to each one in turn (Braishis 2:19).  Hashem then asked man what his own name was, and man replied, "Adam -- because I was created from adamah [dirt]."   

Obviously the naming of animals was more than a matter of semantics or coming up with some random combination of letters and vowels that would be unique to each creature.  It is impossible to believe that angels couldn't do that, or that the ability to do so is more indicative or man's wisdom than other cognitive tasks.  When the Torah tells us that man named each animal, it means that man was able to intuit that animal's essence and purpose and ascribe to it a name that perfectly fit it's spiritual character (see Tanya, Sha'ar haYichud, perek 1).  The angels lacked that same level of perception. 

If so, isn't it odd that man should give himself like "Dirt"?  Shouldn't man's name better reflect his own spiritual potential, especially given his having chochma greater even than that of the angels? 

That Alter of Slabodka (quoted in the Sichos of the Alter, vol 2) explains that the greatness of man is precisely the fact that he has the ability to reflect and show the self-awareness that despite his great wisdom, he is no more than a creation made from a pile of dirt and can sink as fast as he rises.  No other creation, either beast or angel, has the same ability to reflect on its own shortcomings and fraility, either physical or moral.

2. The Netziv notes that the Torah repeatedly refers to Adam and Chavah in the plural, e.g. "Sheneyhem arumim v'lo yisboshashu," (2:25), right up until after the sin of eating from the eitz ha'da'as.  The plural, "Vatipakachna einei sheneyhem vayed'u ki eirumim heim..."  is followed by a switch to the singular, "Vayischabei ha'adam v'ishto," Adam and Chavah each  hid (3:8).  The Netziv explains the switch in language as purely a function of practical necessity.  There was no place that would cover the nakedness of both Adam and his wife properly if they stayed together, so they were forced to go their separate ways into hiding.  I think perhaps there is a psychological dynamic at work here as well.  The Torah is telling us that sin creates a wedge between the sinner and even those closest to him.  The sense of wrongdoing and embarrassment isolate the individual from others.  Adam and Chavah shared what for all intents and purposes was the same wrongdoing, yet after the fact there was now a sense that they were not longer a perfect unit -- each went his/her own way into self imposed hiding.  Hiding from whom?  Not only from G-d, but from each other. 

gevuros geshamim

The Ksav Sofer in Parshas ha'Azinu quotes a difficut Yalkut Shimoni: In the future the Jewish people will stand before G-d in judgment and protest, "We don't know who wronged whom -- did Bnei Yisrael betray and wrong G-d, or did G-d betray and wrong us?"  The answer is given by the pasuk, "V'Yagidu hashamayim tzidko" -- the Heavens proclaim that G-d is just.  What is the hava amina that G-d should be the one who is at fault?  And how does the declaration of the skies, the heavens, resolve the issue?

By way of introduction to the Ksav Sofer's interpretation I want to share a GR"A with you.  At the opening of Zos haBracha the Torah describes Moshe Rabeinu as "Ish haElokim," an interesting contrast with the earlier description of Moshe as "Eved Hashem" -- note the change from "eved" to "ish", and the change in the name of G-d used.  The GR"A explains (in Aderes Eliyahu) that the name Elokim is a description of G-d as He makes his presence manifest through nature.  We see this name Elokim again and again throughout the upcoming parsha of Braishis in describing the creation of the physical world, starting with the first pasuk in the Torah, "Braishis bara Elokim..." Moshe Rabeinu is "Ish Elokim" = master over nature, one who lives on a higher plane than those forces of nature, someone who transcends the boundaries of the physical world and can bend them to his purpose, to bless Bnei Yisrael.

The GR"A adds that even though the whole physical world is goverened by this name "Elokim," there is one exception to the rule.  Chazal tell us that we mention rain, "mashiv ha'ruach u'morid hageshem," in the same bracha as we mention the future resurrection of the dead because these phenomenon are equivalent.  What this means, says the GR"A, is that rain comes from the same source as the gift of life itself -- directly from G-d.  There is no law of nature (i.e. there is no governing aspect of the shem Elokim) that allows to to perfectly predict when and where and how much rain will fall.  It is completely and directly in G-d's hands.

The gemara (Ta'anis 2) tells us that there are three things which Hashem himself holds the "keys" to and does not give over to mankind -- one of these is rain.


I think this GR"A makes intuitive sense to most of us.  Half the US is currently in a drought with crops ruined and farmers suffering and with all our technological prowess there is nothing we can do about it.  There is nothing we can do when a Katrina hits or some other meteorological disaster strikes other than get out of the way as quickly as possible. 

About a year ago we discussed the same idea based on an amazing diyuk of the Meshech Chochma.  When it comes to the mitzvah of aliya la'regel on Pesach and Shavuos, the Torah in Re'eh writes to go to the place, "Asher yivchar Hashem l'shakein shemo sham." However, when it describes the same mitvzah of aliya la'regel on Succos, it says to go to the place, "Asher yivchar Hashem," but it leaves out the words, "L'shakein shemo sham." Why the difference?  The Meshech Chochma answers that on Pesach and Shavuos we are judged respectively on wheat crops and fruit. The Torah adds the words, "l'shakein shemo sham" to remind us that unlike what the other nations think, there is no power other than Hashem, whose presence is manifest most clearly in the Beis haMikdash, that can influence what will happen to these crops. It is "sham," in the hands of G-d who is manifest in the Mikdash, that our fate is decided.  On Sukkos, when we are judged on how much water and rainfall will occur, we don't need a similar reminder. Even the nations realize that Hashem and only Hashem controls rainfall and water.  (Parenthetically, if you are looking for the source for the vort of R' Dovid Cohen that R' Kooperman references in his footnotes to that Meshech Chochma, let me spare you the time I devoted to finding it.  Here's a link.)

When Bnei Yisrael travelled through the desert led by Moshe Rabeinu they were not constrained by the ordinary laws of nature; they were not governed by the name Elokim.  They had a direct connection to G-d and enjoyed the miracle of the man, the be'er of Miriam, and the miracle of ananei hakavod.  But that manner of existence was temporary.  Bnei Yisrael were ultimately forced to tackle a world where G-d remains hidden behind a veil of all kinds of physical, social, economic, and political forces that seem to be the cause of all that occurs. 

Returning to the Yalkut, the Ksav Sofer explains that when Bnei Yisrael will ultimately be judged, they will turn to Hashem and try to argue that they are not to be blamed for their failures.  Had Hashem only revealed his presence to them as He did in the midbar, they would have eagerly followed.

Hashem, however, will respond that the skies prove them wrong.  True, His presence is veiled in so many ways, but he did leave one area open, one area where that direct connection with no intermediary and no laws of nature is obvious -- the rain.  Maharal explains that of all the material gifts that we enjoy in this world, only the rain falls from the sky, forcing a person to look upward, to Heaven, to see its source.  Ironically, it is the cloudy skies that reveal most clearly that it is not forces of nature, but rather Hashem himself, hashgacha pratis, which is in control of all. 

nisuch hamayim - elevating lost souls

The Torah tells us that during the six days of creation G-d had to separate between upper and lower waters to make space for land.  

These lower waters are constantly crying to be reunited above, closer to G-d.

G-d promised that during Sukkos we would do nisuch ha’mayim and elevate those waters to offer them on the mizbeyach.  (Rashi Vayikra 2:13)

There are Jews who unfortunately live in a state of being "lower waters," who desperately want to reunite with their source above.  There are Jews who are even so far from their source that they don't even sense that deep inside their neshoma is crying to reunite with that source.

Rosh haShana comes, Yom Kippur comes, and even the eimas Yom haDin, the fear of these days of judgment, is not enough to elevate these waters.  Sadly, the phenomenon of the two day a year Jew is even becoming a thing of the past, as even the Days of Awe carry little meaning for many people.

It's only Sukkos, zman simchaseinu, that lifts up these waters to the mizbeyach.

It's only through making our simcha contagious that we can elevate these lost souls and reunite them with their source as well.

(Based on Shem m'Shmuel.  Link to a different hesber from 2 years ago from Sefas Emes.) 

upside down esrog

Stop reading this -- go prepare for Yom Tov, print it out and read it later.  I shouldn't be writing either, so this will be brief.

1. Chag haSukkos ta'aseh lecha -- as the Bnei Yissaschar explains, we have to let the chag penetrate and make us (lecha) into something different than we were beforehand.

2. Just two Shabbosos ago in Parshas VaYelech we read about the mitzvah of hakhel that was done every post-shemita year on the holiday of Sukkos.  Why was the ceremony done at that time of year in particular? Ralbag explains (Toeles 13) that Sukkos being the culmination of all the three regalim is the pinnacle of spiritual heights that one can achieve during the year.  Pesach and Shavuos and even Rosh haShana and Yom Kippur was just a warm up to get to this point. 

He adds another reason: Sukkos is the harvest season and the abundance of newly harvested crops might entice one to feel overly self-satisfied and drift away from Hashem.  Therefore, we need to inject ourselves with an added dose of yiras shamayim this time of year. 

Even in years where we lack the added kedusha of a previously experienced shemita year and the added pomp of the king reading hakhel (Ralbag opines that the Kohen Gadol or a nasi could do the reading as well -- see the Minchas Chinuch who raises this as a safeik) the Ralbag's observations hold true.

3. Everybody is familiar with the idea of turning the esrog upside down before saying the bracha of al netilas lulav so that you get the bracha in right before doing the mitzvah, over l'asiyasan.  But things are not so simple as they seem.  No where does the gemara say to do this -- all we know from the gemara are two facts, one about the mitzvah of lulav, one about birchos hamitzvah in general: 1) Once you pick up the lulav, you have already done the mitvah of netilas lulav; 2) A birchas hamitzvah is usually recited before performing the mitzvah act.  So now we are stuck.  If you say the bracha before having anything in hand, that is considered too removed from being over l'asiyasan.  If you already have the lulav in hand, the mitzvah is over and you can't say the bracha.  How do you balance two mutually exclusive rules?

The Beis Yosef's solution (based on the Rosh) is that even though the gemara doesn't say it, we have to modify how we do the mitzvah of netilas lulav.  We turn the esrog upside down (or don't pick it up or have in mind not to be yotzei yet) until after the bracha so it is over l'asiyasan.  The focus is completely on working around fact #1 that we mentioned above.

It's the GR"A that reminds us of fact #2, and the simple reading of the gemara seems very much in line with his approach.  The gemara (Pesachim 7) has a discussion of whether we should say birchas hamitzvah using the nusach of "al..." or "l...."  At the end of the day some brachos are formulated one way, some the other, and the Rishonim all try to come up with rules and explain away the exceptions.  At the heart of the debate is whether the nusach of "al..." refers to an action that is going to be done, i.e. the mitzvah about to be performed, or whether "al..." only refers to past events, and hence should not be used for a birchas hamitzvah which must be recited before doing the mitzvah.  Asks the gemara:
 מיתיבי העושה לולב לעצמו מברך שהחיינו וקימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה נטלו לצאת בו אומר אשר קדשנו במצותיו וצונו על נטילת לולב
Doesn't the fact that we say the bracha of "al netilas lulav" prove that a birchas hamitzvah can be formulated using the nusach of "al..." and not just "l..."?

Answers the gemara:
שאני התם דבעידנא דאגבהה נפק ביה
Lulav is different, as one is already yotzei once the lulav has been taken in hand.

In other words, you can't prove anything about other birchos hamitzvah from the bracha on lulav because lulav is a unique case -- it is one of the exceptions to the rule where Chazal allowed for the bracha to be said after the mitzvah has already been done!  It's fact #2, the over l'asiyasan rule, that is modified (by Chazal) when it comes to lulav, not fact #1, how we do the mitzvah.

Tosfos on the spot (d'h b'idna) wants to have their cake and eat it and writes that the gemara does not negate the rule of over l'asiyasan because you still have na'anu'im in hallel to do.  The implicit assumption is that na'anu'im is part and parcel of the mitzvah of netilas lulav and not a separate kiyum, but that a different discussion that I don't have time for now.

Chag Sameiyach!

don't delay the mitzvah

I don't have time to really write about it, so I'll just pass on the mareh makom: The Avnei Nezer has an interesting chiddush that when you have a Shabbos in between Yom Kippur and Sukkos (like this year), since you cannot build your sukkah on Shabbos, the week before and the week after count as two seperate time periods.  Therefore, if you fail to build your sukkah before Shabbos, you have violated the din of delaying a mitzvah.  LINK.

taking it personally

The Yerushalmi (Ta'anis 3:11) relates that there was once a drought and no rain fell.  What did R' Yochanan ben Zakai do?  He told his barber to go to the beis knesses and daven that R' Yochanan ben Zakai wanted to take a haircut and he couldn't because there was no water (I guess he got a wash with his cut).  Sure enough, after that tefilah it started to rain.

There were probably thousands if not millions of people impacted by that drought in all kinds of burdensome ways.  There was probably not enough water for drinking, for cooking, for bathing.  Yet, all that apparently made no impact in shamayim.  What made an impact is that fact that R' Yochanan ben Zakai was inconvenienced a little bit and could not get a haircut.  How do we make sense of this?!  Why should R' Yochanan ben Zakai's haircut matter more than the suffering of thousands or millions of others?

R' Elchanan Wasserman explained that this is exactly what the pasuk of "Hatzur tamim pa'alo... K-l emunah v'ain avel" in our parsha teaches us.  Hashem's justice is exact and precise.  For whatever reason, the population that suffered during the drought deserved that suffering.  There was no injustice in the din meted out whatsoever.  However, R' Yochanan ben Zakai did not deserve to be punished.  R' Yochanan ben Zakai did not deserve to suffer with everyone else.  He therefore had a right to say to Hashem, "It's not fair -- I'm suffering too."  And even if that suffering was trivial -- it's was just a haircut -- precisely because Hashem's justice is absolutely fair and R' Yochanan ben Zakai did not deserve it, the entire drought was cancelled. 

Aside from the lesson we learn from the Yerushalmi about the precision of Divine justice, I think we also learn something about tefilah.  I feel so strongly about what I've been writing about the past few posts I can't help but keep coming back to the same points.  Apparently had R' Yochanan ben Zakai just davened in general, or just davened that the population not suffer so much (I think it's safe to assume that he personally had enough water for drinking, cooking, etc. otherwise he would have mentioned those needs and not just his haircut), it would not have been enough.  R' Yochanan ben Zakai had to be able to say, "This drought bothers me."  He had to do something like schedule his haircut to make sure he aroused those feelings.  I think there is a twofold lesson here.  Firstly, one tefilah can make a difference.  Surely others besides R' Yochanan ben Zakai davened, but it was his tefilah that was the key.  Secondly, even for the great R' Yochanan ben Zakai, aino dome, there is no comparison between the tefilos uttered over the pain and suffering of others and the tefilos uttered when that pain and suffering hits home, even in a minor way. 

There are so many things that we need to daven for, but we tend to think of these things in the abstract.  Iran is a problem, the economy is a problem, people need refuah and yeshuos, etc.  I don't need to spell out the long list.  Yes, it's surely important to daven for Hashem to improve the economy or to help Eretz Yisrael have peace, etc.  But the question each one of us needs to ask is, "How does that effect me?"  It has to bother us; it has to make a difference in our lives.  Each of us needs to ask ourselves whether we can turn to Hashem and say, "I'm not just davening for the economy because my neighbor needs a job or my friend can't pay tuition -- I'm davening because, Hashem, even if I live in a mansion and have a chauffeur driving me around, it effects me too.  It's not just the pain of the tzibur that I'm davening for -- it's my pain."  Only then will our tefilos be real and meaningful.

While none of us is on the level of R' Yochanan ben Zakai, no one knows for sure whether it is not his or her personal cry that will make all the difference.  "Hatzur tamim pa'alo," and the entire Klal Yisrael can experience yeshuah and bracha to spare one individual from suffering unjustly.

the zechus of being able to feel the pain of the community

Dirshu Hashem b’himatz’o, kira’u’hu b’hiyoso karov – Chazal darshen this pasuk as referring to the aseres y’mei teshuvah, when Hashem is closest. The irony of course is that it’s when Hashem is far away that you need to call out to him. When Hashem is close, you shouldn’t need to seek and cry out – He is right here with us.  So why does the pasuk tell us to cry out precisely at this time?

The answer is that davka if you feel Hashem is close – your life is A-OK and you don’t need to change too much during these aseres ymei teshuvah – then davka you need to call out and seek Hashem the most, because sadly you haven’t even gotten to step aleph which is to realize just how far from Him you are holding and how much work you have to do.

I know before Rosh haShana I said I would discuss a R’ Elchanan, but I’ve given up on it. Writing here is just a hobby, so if putting finger to keyboard seems like a chore instead of something I feel inspired to do, I just don't have time for it. When the world is in the condition it is, it seems like splitting hairs over fine points in a difficult Rambam or sugya is like fiddling while Rome burns. It’s not the right attitude to take, but I wouldn’t be intellectually honest if I told you I felt otherwise or I preached to you to feel otherwise while not being able to do so myself. So much is not A-OK, so much derisha and kri’ah to Hashem is needed that the task seems overwhelming.

Another week gone by, another few Jews attacked.  Molotov cocktails were thrown at a kosher supermarket in France. Swastikas and "kill the Jews" were spray painted on buildings in NJ.  Terrorism is ongoing in Israel.  What do you expect? When the response to rioting is apology and appeasement, when threats to our existence are described as just “noise” not worthy of serious consideration, this is the natural result. We should expect no sympathy from the world, no media coverage beyond a passing headline. It’s just Jews being threatened or killed. Yawn.

Where is the outrage in our community? Where is the sense of urgency? Where is our cry for the world to do something about Iran? Where is the call for justice for our brethren being killed and discriminated against? It may in the end not help, we may be ignored anyway, but to let things slide without even a whimper…. ?

Rav Kook writes in Orot Teshuvah (ch 13., loose translation by me):

It is impossible to truly empathize with the suffering of the community unless one sanctifies his ways, perfects his character, and does complete repentance. To feel in one’s heart the suffering of the community is itself a reward (schar mitzvah) which only those pure, innocent souls who walk in the ways of Toras Hashem merit.

On the one hand, Rav Kook’s words make me feel a little better. It’s a zechus, a madreiga, to fell the pain of others, and obviously not everyone can be zocheh. But on the other hand, I think it would be a mistake to read Rav Kook as giving us a pat on the back and telling us not to worry if we don’t feel outrage because we yet a bar hachi. Aderaba, Rav Kook is telling us that it is our lack of teshuvah that is preventing us from feeling that pain. We should aspire and strive and do the teshuvah necessary to have those feelings if we yet lack them.

We said in slichos this morning (and we will say again at Ne’ila) – “Ezkira Elokim v’ahemya, b’rosi kol ir al tilah benuya, v’ir haElokim mushpeles at she’ol tachtiya.” Translated literally, the slicha calls for us to cry over the difference between Yerushalayim, “Ir haElokim,” which remains in ruins, and all other cities, which flourish and grow. The Chozeh m’Lublin (quoted in Shem m’Shmuel), however, homiletically explained the word “ir” as stemming from the same root as “uru,” awaken. Every other “ir,” every other movement and –ism manages to arouse and awaken its followers to champion the cause. However, “ir haElokim,” to be awakened and aroused for the sake of avodas Hashem, this somehow remains “mushpeles,” degraded, ignored, and in ruins. There is no one willing to step forward to champion our cause, and even our own people remain silent.

We seem communally to have a sense of apathy and indifference toward the dangers that face us as well as the overall plight of mankind these days, which is none too cheery.  Why is that?  I would suggest that in a word, what is lacking is vision. There is no end of hand wringing over details.  People are writing seforim hundreds of pages long not over sugyos like rov and chazakah, but over things like netilas yadayim.  I'm not suggesting this is a bad thing -- all Torah is great -- but it is but a fine, fine brush stroke in the larger paining of yahadus.  The problem is that no one -- and I mean no one -- is presenting a vision of what the larger painting is.  There is no attempt to articulate a broader philosophical framework that can translate into solutions to the many challenges -- economic, intellectual, political -- of modern life.  

There is much more to say on that,  but I'll cut myself short here.  I've been rewriting this various ways for an hour and keep cutting chunks out and I still don't know if I succeeded in doing anything other than ranting.  I apologize for being a little depressing here and ask your mechila as well for all the other posts you may have had complaints about during the year and any comments you didn't like.  May we all be zocheh this Yom Kippur to a gmar chasima tova, may Hashem opens our hearts and minds so we have that broader vision of what Torah is all about, may there be an end to the tzaros facing our communities, and may we merit a geulah sheleima.

for every end there is a means

Rashi comments on the pasuk, "Ki hamitzvah ha'zos... lo ba'shamayim hi," (30:12) that were the Torah indeed found in shamayim, we would have to go up and learn it there.   In other words, the pasuk does not mean, "Torah is not in heaven..." but were it there, you would have a good excuse not to learn. Rather, it means, "Torah is not in heaven," and therefore you have it easy, because were it there, you would have to find a way to get to it -- there are simply no excuses.  That's quite a powerful message to take into the last Shabbos before the end of the year.

I am wondering what prompted Rashi to make this comment.  What in the pasuk indicates that the first pshat is wrong and the second one is correct?  I have an idea or two but nothing compelling -- what do you think?
The meforshei Rashi discuss this hava amina that we would have to go up to the heavens -- how would we get there? The Maharal explains that one can get to shamayim through nevuah. This fits perfectly with Rav Shteinman's interpretation (in Ayeles haShachar) of the word "hayom," in the admonition a few pesukim earlier (30:8), "V'atah tashuv v'shamata b'kol Hashem...asher anochi metzavecha hayom," as an allusion to the principle that "ain navi rashai l'chadesh davar" -- the Torah was complete on the day it was given; later prophets are not permitted to add new mitzvos. Torah is not a product of nevuah; it is a completely different cheftza.

The Shem m'Shmuel's explains that had the mitzvah of limud haTorah necessitated getting to shamayim, then Hashem would have given us a means to get there. Since Torah is the blueprint of creation, if there is a din in the Torah, it means there has to be built into creation the means of fulfilling it.  What the Sm"S is telling us is that Hashem has equipped us with the kelim to accomplish whatever it is he asks of us. 

To us, getting up to shamayim seems like a fanstasy -- something we could only dream of. It is hard for us to imagine doing such a thing even if Hashem demanded it. For some people attending tefilah b'tzibur, learning a daily seder, keeping Shabbos k'halacha, etc. seems just as impossible. The Torah doesn't come out and tell those people, "Who are you kidding -- it's not so hard." The message of the Sm"S is very different -- yes, it is hard. For you it's as hard as going to shamayim. But guess what -- if Hashem wants you to do it, it means he gave you the means and ability to make it happen. Now you have no excuse.

Posting has been light lately (both in kamus and eichus), but I bl"n I hope to get to a nice piece from R' Elchanan before Yom Tov, so watch out for it.  If not, maybe afterwards. 

two dinim in teshuvah

The gemara (B.K. 94b) writes that if a parent dies and the heirs discover easily identifiable stolen goods in the parent's estate, they must return the goods to the rightful owner because of the mitzvah of kibud av. Asks the gemara, but if their parent was a rasha, a thief, there is no mitzvah of kibud av! The gemara answers that the case being spoken of is where the parent did teshuvah. Again, asks the gemara, if the parent did teshuvah, why does he/she still have stolen goods in his/her possession-- he/she should have returned them! Answers the gemara, indeed the parent intended to return the stolen property, but died before being able to do so.

How does the gemara's answer resolve the question --- bottom line, the parent did not actually return the stolen goods?! Would've, should've, could've -- but he/she didn't actually make good and restore the property to its rightful owner? What good is regret alone without making restitution?
  There is a classic Brisker sevara (see Koveitz Shiurim) that postulates 2 dinim in teshuva: 1) To remove the status of rasha; 2) To rehabilitate the relationship between the person and Hashem.

An example: The Rambam implies at the beginning of Hil Teshuva that viduy is a necessary component to teshuvah. Yet, the gemara (Kid 49) tells us that kiddushin done on condition that a person is a tzadik works at least m'safeik because "shema hirheir teshuvah." Minchas Chinuch asks: How does hirhur accomplish anything without viduy? The Rogatchover answers that viduy is indeed necessary for the full rehabilitative effect of teshuvah to work, but simply to avoid the status of rasha, hirhur alone is sufficient.

Here too, so long as the parent is not categorized as a rasha, which can be accomplished by regret alone, there is a chiyuv of kibud av. Perhaps full teshuvah is lacking, but that is not the sugya's concern.

Rav Baruch Ber (see intro to Gittin) formulates the idea a little differently. (The Birchas Shmuel is cryptic; take a look at this piece in the Birchas Avraham for a clearer explanation.)  Why is every lav in the Torah not considered a lav hanitak l'aseh, as each and every lav requires that a mitzvas aseh of teshuvah be done to rectify the error? R' B"B answers that there are two different "flavors" or two different types of teshuvah: 1) Teshuvah on the ma'aseh aveira, the wrongful act; 2) Teshuva on the cheit itself, the spiritual pollution that is a result of the act of aveira. The definition of a lav hanitak l'aseh is a lav that is accompanied by an aseh which undoes the ma'aseh avierah.  When the Torah commands us to do teshuvah, the intent is more than that -- it is to undo the spiritual contamination that results from the aveira.

Returning to the sugya in B"K, even though the guilty parent failed to actually return the stolen property -- the undoing of the ma'aseh aveira was incomplete -- the parent still has properly fulfilled the mitzvah of teshuvah, as his/her regret over the wrongful act restores his neshoma and his/her relationship with Hashem to its prior state.   The sugya is not speaking about undoing the ma'aseh aveirah; it is speaking about undoing damage to the soul.

I don't like the way the gemara reads using either sevara.  If regret alone is sufficient to remove the status of rasha, what does the gemara mean by the follow-up question of why the parent still has stolen goods in his/her possession?  The implication is that getting rid of the goods is part and parcel of teshuvah, not just regret.  And the answer -- that the parent died before being able to make restitution -- does not seem to indicate that return of the property is not necessary, but rather it implies that even though return of the property is necessary, the fact that the parent died before being able to do so absolves him/her of resposibility.  According to either of the approaches above you would have to learn the shakla v'terya as a siman, not a sibah -- regret alone removes the status of rasha, and the gemara is questioning the sincerity of that regret given that the parent failed to return the stolen goods. 

On a completly different note: The Sefas Emes writes that there is a parallel between the 10 days of teshuvah, the 10 ma'amaros of creation, the 10 dibros, and the 10 makkos. I saw quoted in the name of R' Yonansan Eibshitz that we can understand very well why the first 2 days of Rosh haShana are considered kedusha achas based on the fact that the first two dibros of aseres hadibros were said together (this was a chiddush to me, but see Rashi Makos 24a "Achas dvar Elokeim...")

(If you are interested in this sort of thing R' Yosef Engel in his derashos has pages and pages which I've never managed to read through on the parallel between the aseres y'mei yeshuvah and the 10 dibros.)

Israel, Iran, and laundry detergent -- the pressing issues

If there are any Jews out there left who plan to vote Democrat, please, just jump off a bridge or something.  If you are suicidal and want to do what is in our worst interest, at least do it privately so it has no effect on me.  The week in review:

* The Democrat party rejection of support for Jerusalem/Israel before one of the ringleaders overturned the vote (while the convention booed in response) to avoid political damage.

* The sonei yisrael in the White House refuses to meet Netanyahu (his schedule is full -- with fundraisers, campaigning, and golf.)

* The apology issued to those who broke into the embassy in Egypt and ripped the flag to shreds.  Sorry -- please excuse us for living.  Can we give you some Jews to kill to make up for it? 

This is on top of 3+ years of doing nothing about Iran, providing aid and comfort to our enemies, pushing us against the wall.  (And that's just viz a viz Israel.  There are plenty of other reasons to vote against Obama too.)

And where are our so-called Democratic Jewish friends?  Where is Chuck Schumer, the guy we Jews in NY run to vote for?  Why, he's busy giving press conferences to encourage clearer labels on laundry detergent.  What could be more important in these critical times than laundry detergent labels?  Where is senile Ed Koch, who so recently gave his vote of confidence to Obama on Israel?  Where is Debbie Wasserman-Schultz-Rumkowski, the court Jew?  And pray tell, where are all the major Jewish organizations and their political clout who always throw their weight behind Democatic candidates?  What a joke.

We are in for very tough times.  The saddest part is that Jews will keep pulling the level for D in the voting booth, that thousands of Jewish seniors will pull D because they have done so since the days of Roosevelt and Truman and thinking that's the ticket to their social security check, that thousands of others have no idea what is going on and don't care.

I'm sick of it all.