1. The gemara (Sotah 36) writes that Pharoah's advisors objected to his appointing this unknown slave named Yosef to a position of power. Pharoah answered that he saw royalty in Yosef. The advisors responded that if Yosef was indeed royalty, then he should be able to speak in 70 languages just like Pharoah, and he should be put to the test. The gemara says that Gavriel came and tried to help Yosef cram (better than using rosetta stone), but he wasn't getting it. Gavriel then added the letter hey to Yosef's name -- "Eidus b'yehosef samo [darshened as shemo=his name] b'tzeiso al Eretz Mitzrayim -- and he was then able to learn the 70 languages.
If Pharoah was able to master 70 languages, how was it that Yosef, "ish chacham v'navon," not to mention a tzadik, was incapable to doing so? Was it the time pressure, or the pressure of doing it for the test put forth by the advisors?
Maharal (Gevuros Hashem ch 28) explains that Moshe's speech impediment was not a flaw or a defect. Speech has to come from the chomer, the body, as well as the nefesh. Because Moshe was so spiritual, he was disconnected from the world, and was unable to connect to his guf to properly express himself through that medium.
R' Zev Hoberman z"l similarly explains that when the world was first created and was in a pristine, spiritual state, the only language that existed was lashon kodesh. The 70 languages came into being as a result of the sin of dor ha'palagah. Yosef's neshoma was still on that pristine, high level of spirituality, and therefore, it connected only with lashom kodesh. Its inability to express itself in other ways was a feature, not a bug.
2. The Midrash darshens Yosef's instructions "tvo'ach tevach v'hachein" as an allusion to Shabbos, which requires hachana, preparation. Since Yosef is described as a shomer Shabbos, therefore, his descendent was zocheh to offer korbanos at the dedication of the mishkan on Shabbos. The prince of Ephraim is the nasi who brought his korban and gift on the 7th day of the chanukas hamishkan.
Even though Yosef gave those instructions, the other shevatim as well as the Avos also observed Shabbos. Why is the reward given only to Yosef?
The Midrash in last week's parsha writes that had Reuvain known that the Torah would write that he saved Yosef, he would have grabbed him from the pit, hoisted him on his shoulders, and brought him home. Does that mean that Reuvain would have done more if he would have known about the great publicity he was going to get? Of course not. The Sefas Emes explains that what Chazal are telling us is not to minimize the significance of our own actions. A person who does a good deed may think to himself/herself, "What does it matter how I do it, what I do, how much I do? At the end of the day, what difference is my small effort going to make?" That mindset leads to discouragement, for doing less than the optimal, for giving less than 110% The truth is that every action we do makes as world of difference for ourselves and for our offspring, who learn from what we do. Every action is Torah. Had Reuvain realized that his efforts were Torah, and were not an insignificant fruitless attempt, he would have put more into it. (A few years ago I wrote up a different pshat here.)
I think that is what Chazal are getting at in this Midrash regarding Yosef as well. Of course the Avos and shevatim observed Shabbos, but there observance, for whatever reason, is not recorded explicitly, and therefore is not torah in the same was as Yosef's shmiras shabbos. What is recorded in the text is a limud for all doros for all eternity. Only Yosef merited that. (Why that is true, I'm not sure -- you can say whatever sevara you like.)
The effect it had on Ephraim being able to offer his gift on Shabbos is not a reward -- it's a consequence (all rewards in Torah are really consequence, but that's a discussion for some other time.) By definition, since Yosef's shemiras Shabbos was torah, it had an effect generations later, because that's what Torah is -- it is eternity. (See Bad Kodesh by R' Povarski who has a different approach.)
3. Put yourself in Yosef's shoes -- what would pop into your mind as soon as you see your brothers? Wouldn't you think to yourself, "These are the guys who sold me down the river!" But look at what the pasuk says, writes the Alter of Navardok: "Yayizkor Yosef es ha'chalomos asher chalam lahem" (42:8) Yosef thinks only of the dreams he once had, not what his brothers had done to him, and certainly not of revenge.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
kitusei michtas shiura and ner chanukah
Tosfos (Eiruvin 80b) asks why is it that kitusei michtas shiura disqualifies a korah made from an asheira but does not disqualify a lechi made from an asheira. Tosfos answers that a korah requires a shiur of at least a tefach; a lechi has some shiur of height and width, but it is an insignificant amount (the width can be a mashehu). Tosfos then quotes R' Avraham as answering that if you took the lechi and broke it into little, tiny pieces, so long as you affix those little pieces together on a wall, it is a valid lechi. The same cannot be said of a korah, as the little pieces would collapse.
It seems that the two answers of Tosfos differ in their conceptual understanding of kitusei michtas shiura. According to the first answer, kitusei michtas *shiura* means that there is not enough "stuff" there, there is a lacking in the shiur required. A lulav made from an asheirah, for example, is pasul because it does not meet the requirement of being 4 tefachim tall. According to the second answer, there is sufficient "stuff" present -- what is lacking is tziruf, something to hold the parts together. It is as if that lulav, that korah, etc. are broken into little bits. That has no effect on the kashrus of a lechi.
The Ran asks why is it that a get can be written on issurei hana'ah -- why don't we say kitusei michtas shiura? Ran answers that there is no shiur for a get. It seems that the Ran held like the first model of kitusei michtas shiura, that it is a lack in shiur. According to the second model, even if get does not need a shiur, it would not do much good if it is ripped into little shreds. (See the Steipler in Sukkah who tries to get these two models to mesh together.)
Achronim discuss whether kitusei michtas shiura applies to ner Chanukah. The Aruch haShulchan quotes the second answer of Tosfos in Eiruvin and writes that even if the oil is broken into little drops, who cares? So long as it burns for the required time, you should be yotzei. Perhaps one could counter argue that according to the Ran kitusei michtas means it is as if there is a lack in the shiur of oil required to be lit.
Alternately, one might argue that there is in fact no shiur for the amount of oil that must be lit. This is Chanukah after all! Assuming the one jug the Chashmonaim found was broken into 8 parts, each day they lit with less than the shiur and nonetheless it burned for sufficient time. Ad she'tichleh regel min ha'shuk has nothing to do with how much "stuff"/oil there has to be -- it just tells us how long the menorah has to remain lit.
It seems that the two answers of Tosfos differ in their conceptual understanding of kitusei michtas shiura. According to the first answer, kitusei michtas *shiura* means that there is not enough "stuff" there, there is a lacking in the shiur required. A lulav made from an asheirah, for example, is pasul because it does not meet the requirement of being 4 tefachim tall. According to the second answer, there is sufficient "stuff" present -- what is lacking is tziruf, something to hold the parts together. It is as if that lulav, that korah, etc. are broken into little bits. That has no effect on the kashrus of a lechi.
The Ran asks why is it that a get can be written on issurei hana'ah -- why don't we say kitusei michtas shiura? Ran answers that there is no shiur for a get. It seems that the Ran held like the first model of kitusei michtas shiura, that it is a lack in shiur. According to the second model, even if get does not need a shiur, it would not do much good if it is ripped into little shreds. (See the Steipler in Sukkah who tries to get these two models to mesh together.)
Achronim discuss whether kitusei michtas shiura applies to ner Chanukah. The Aruch haShulchan quotes the second answer of Tosfos in Eiruvin and writes that even if the oil is broken into little drops, who cares? So long as it burns for the required time, you should be yotzei. Perhaps one could counter argue that according to the Ran kitusei michtas means it is as if there is a lack in the shiur of oil required to be lit.
Alternately, one might argue that there is in fact no shiur for the amount of oil that must be lit. This is Chanukah after all! Assuming the one jug the Chashmonaim found was broken into 8 parts, each day they lit with less than the shiur and nonetheless it burned for sufficient time. Ad she'tichleh regel min ha'shuk has nothing to do with how much "stuff"/oil there has to be -- it just tells us how long the menorah has to remain lit.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
the seeds of malchus
Yosef was lost somewhere in Mitzrayim, "vayeired Yehudah," Yehudah lost his leadership position for his role in the fiasco, Reuvain was immersed in doing teshuvah for his sins, Ya'akov could not be consoled over the loss of Yosef -- could things get any worse? Could things look any bleaker? Yet, the Midrash (85:1), after going through the above list, tells us that while all this was going on Hashem was busy creating the ohr of mashiach. At the very moment when things look the bleakest, Hashem was crafting redemption. That's a great lesson about Jewish history and Jewish destiny.
We have the story of Yehudah and Tamar in our parsha. The gemara (Sotah 7b) darshens that there is a connection between Yehudah's bracha, "V'zos l'Yehdah...," with a connecting vav, in parshas V'Zos haBracha, and Reuvain's bracha that comes right before it. Yehudah was not allowed to enter gan eden after death because he had pledged his olam ha'ba as collateral in case he did not bring Binyamin home. Moshe Rabeinu wanted to rectify that. He asked that Hashem open the gates of heaven for Yehudah in the merit of the special zechus Yehudah had of causing Reuvain to admit his guilt. When Yehudah publicly admitted that he was the one who had been with Tamar, Reuvain was inspired and admitted his own guilt in being "bilbeil yetzu'ei aviv" with Bilhah. In that merit, Yehudah earned entrance to gan eden.
R' Leib Chasman makes a beautiful point. Why it is that Yehudah's own public admission of guilt, at the cost of great embarrassment, was not enough to earn him olam ha'ba. Why was it only the fact that he caused Reuvain to confess? He beautifully answers that it's not only our own tzidkus that ultimately defines who we are, but it's what impact and influence we have on others.
Be that as it may, I don't understand simple pshat in a Rashi on this sugya. The gemara says that Yehudah and Reuvain received reward in this world as well as the next. Rashi (d"h lahem levadam) writes that Yehudah received the reward of malchus; Reuvain received the reward of getting the first portion of land in Eretz Yisrael, in Eiver ha'Yarden. Putting aside the question of whether Eiver haYarden has a full kedushas ha'aretz, I don't understand why this is a reward. In Parshas Matos Moshe Rabeinu was highly critical of Reuvain and Gad for asking for that territory. Taking it was viewed as a negative, and it was only with great reluctance that Moshe agreed that they could settle there. Why is getting that land a reward? I don't know.
It takes two to tango, and the reward of malchus given to Yehudah was earned by Tamar as well. Rashi (38:26) quotes the Midrash that "because Tamar was modest in her in-laws house, therefore I [Hashem] decreed that she should produce kings of Israel."
The is an amazing Rashi given the context. Here Tamar says, "haker na," whoever these items belong to is the father of my baby. She deliberately avoided accusing Yehudah directly, and would have even been willing to give up her life rather than embarrass him in public should he refuse to admit guilt. Yet, that's not why Tamar earned the reward of malchus! It's because of her tzeniyus, not her mesirus nefesh, that she was deserving of producing kings.
Were I a Beis Ya'akov teacher, this would be an easy home run derasha for the week. "Kol kevudah **bas melech** pnimah..." (The 45:14) The midah of tzeniyus and the midah of malchus go hand in hand. (Why that should be so is something to explore further. Friday night is a long night -- plenty of time to think : )
The Midrash writes that Yehudah took no notice of Tamar at first, but a malach caused him to turn aside off the road and go to her. He was coerced somehow to fall into this situation so that malchus yisrael could arise. It sounds like a supernatural occurrence, a long shot that you would not bet on. So what was Tamar thinking? What was this girl, who was so tzanu'a, hoping for? Surely she could not have expected Yehudah to notice her or to be with her? It would be like hoping to win the lottery!
R' Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Musar 5733 #9) answers that when a person realizes great things are on the line, he/she will grasp at every straw and make every effort, no matter how slight the chance of success, to bring things to fruition. Tamar realized this was her chance -- a slight chance, but still, a chance -- to perhaps be the mother of malchus, the mother who will bring the lineage of mashiach into the world. No matter what the odds, no matter what effort she took, it was something she had to shoot for.
Still haven't had a chance to write about Chanukah -- never enough time.
We have the story of Yehudah and Tamar in our parsha. The gemara (Sotah 7b) darshens that there is a connection between Yehudah's bracha, "V'zos l'Yehdah...," with a connecting vav, in parshas V'Zos haBracha, and Reuvain's bracha that comes right before it. Yehudah was not allowed to enter gan eden after death because he had pledged his olam ha'ba as collateral in case he did not bring Binyamin home. Moshe Rabeinu wanted to rectify that. He asked that Hashem open the gates of heaven for Yehudah in the merit of the special zechus Yehudah had of causing Reuvain to admit his guilt. When Yehudah publicly admitted that he was the one who had been with Tamar, Reuvain was inspired and admitted his own guilt in being "bilbeil yetzu'ei aviv" with Bilhah. In that merit, Yehudah earned entrance to gan eden.
R' Leib Chasman makes a beautiful point. Why it is that Yehudah's own public admission of guilt, at the cost of great embarrassment, was not enough to earn him olam ha'ba. Why was it only the fact that he caused Reuvain to confess? He beautifully answers that it's not only our own tzidkus that ultimately defines who we are, but it's what impact and influence we have on others.
Be that as it may, I don't understand simple pshat in a Rashi on this sugya. The gemara says that Yehudah and Reuvain received reward in this world as well as the next. Rashi (d"h lahem levadam) writes that Yehudah received the reward of malchus; Reuvain received the reward of getting the first portion of land in Eretz Yisrael, in Eiver ha'Yarden. Putting aside the question of whether Eiver haYarden has a full kedushas ha'aretz, I don't understand why this is a reward. In Parshas Matos Moshe Rabeinu was highly critical of Reuvain and Gad for asking for that territory. Taking it was viewed as a negative, and it was only with great reluctance that Moshe agreed that they could settle there. Why is getting that land a reward? I don't know.
It takes two to tango, and the reward of malchus given to Yehudah was earned by Tamar as well. Rashi (38:26) quotes the Midrash that "because Tamar was modest in her in-laws house, therefore I [Hashem] decreed that she should produce kings of Israel."
The is an amazing Rashi given the context. Here Tamar says, "haker na," whoever these items belong to is the father of my baby. She deliberately avoided accusing Yehudah directly, and would have even been willing to give up her life rather than embarrass him in public should he refuse to admit guilt. Yet, that's not why Tamar earned the reward of malchus! It's because of her tzeniyus, not her mesirus nefesh, that she was deserving of producing kings.
Were I a Beis Ya'akov teacher, this would be an easy home run derasha for the week. "Kol kevudah **bas melech** pnimah..." (The 45:14) The midah of tzeniyus and the midah of malchus go hand in hand. (Why that should be so is something to explore further. Friday night is a long night -- plenty of time to think : )
The Midrash writes that Yehudah took no notice of Tamar at first, but a malach caused him to turn aside off the road and go to her. He was coerced somehow to fall into this situation so that malchus yisrael could arise. It sounds like a supernatural occurrence, a long shot that you would not bet on. So what was Tamar thinking? What was this girl, who was so tzanu'a, hoping for? Surely she could not have expected Yehudah to notice her or to be with her? It would be like hoping to win the lottery!
R' Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Musar 5733 #9) answers that when a person realizes great things are on the line, he/she will grasp at every straw and make every effort, no matter how slight the chance of success, to bring things to fruition. Tamar realized this was her chance -- a slight chance, but still, a chance -- to perhaps be the mother of malchus, the mother who will bring the lineage of mashiach into the world. No matter what the odds, no matter what effort she took, it was something she had to shoot for.
Still haven't had a chance to write about Chanukah -- never enough time.
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Dinah in the box
Rashi (32:23) writes that what happened to Dinah was a result of Ya'akov putting her in a box to keep her away from Eisav. Had Dinah married Eisav, she might have inspired him to do teshuvah, but thanks to Ya'akov, there was never a chance of that happening.
Why did the chance that Dinah might influence Eisav outweigh the potential danger of him influencing her, or her having a bad marriage? How does the benefit outweigh the downside risk? Why was Ya'akov wrong?
To compound the problem, the Midrash gives a completely different reason for what happened to Dina. In last week's parsha when Ya'akov made his deal with Lavan regarding which sheep Lavan would keep and which sheep would become part of Ya'akov's own flock, he told Lavan, "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar," my righteousness will speak for itself in the coming days. The Midrash (73:6) is critical of Ya'akov for this statement. "Al tishallel b'yom machar" -- you Ya'akov said "v'ansa... machar," therefore your daughter Dinah will suffer inuy at the hands of Shchem.
The first question that begs asking is what is the connection between Ya'akov's confident boast (if you will) to Lavan and what happened to Dinah. But secondly, which is it -- did Dinah come to harm at Shchem because Ya'akov put her in a box and kept her from Eisav, or because of what he said to Lavan?
Chasam Sofer explains that the two reasons go hand in hand. "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar" is a statement of tremendous bitachon. Ya'akov felt confident that what would happen would ultimately support his claims, his position, his righteousness because G-d had promised that no harm would come to him. The downside of boasting and being supremely confident based on bitachon is that you better be consistent, or you risk getting hoisted on your own petard (see this post.) Does someone completely confident that Hashem will protect him from all harm lock his daughter in a box? Ya'akov's own words to Lavan were the ruler against which his actions were judged, and he came up short.
I think this Chasam Sofer helps answer the question we started with. A normal person like me is bothered by the question of how we know Dinah would bring Eisav to teshuvah and not the other way around. But someone who is a big ba'al bitachon, 100% confident that Hashem will work things out in his favor -- that shouldn't be his concern. Hashem promised that he would come to no harm -- what's the issue?
Speaking of risk vs. reward, I saw a Brisker Rav quoted that I don't understand. Ya'akov said that if Eisav fights against part of the camp, "V'haya ha'machaneh ha'nishar l'pleitah," the other half will escape. How did he know that they will for sure escape? Rashi explains that Ya'akov meant that he will fight back and beat off Eisav. Mashma that Ya'akov knew that if he fights, he is going to win. So why did Ya'akov bother with the presents, the davening, etc. -- why not just fight and be done with it? QED, says the Brisker Rav, that you only fight when your back is against the wall and you've exhausted every other means of resolution at your disposal.
I don't understand how this Rashi supports making a blanket rule like that. Ya'akov may have been confident that he would win, but who says there would not be casualties? Maybe in the risk/benefit scale, the cost of even a victorious battle would have been greater than the cost of the presents sent to Eisav?
Last point for the week: the Chofetz Chaim asked why is it that the malach of Eisav, the yetzer ha'ra, came to fight davka against Ya'akov? Why did a bad malach not come to fight against Avraham or fight against Yitzchak?
The Chofetz Chaim answered that the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing chessed (Avraham), the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing mitzvos and avodah (Yitzchak), but the yetzer ha'ra cannot tolerate Torah. As long as a Jew is connected to Torah, "ohr she'bah machziro l'mutav" and the yetzer can never win. Therefore, it's against Ya'akov, the symbol of Torah, the yosheiv ohalim, that the heavy guns are brought out.
Why did the chance that Dinah might influence Eisav outweigh the potential danger of him influencing her, or her having a bad marriage? How does the benefit outweigh the downside risk? Why was Ya'akov wrong?
To compound the problem, the Midrash gives a completely different reason for what happened to Dina. In last week's parsha when Ya'akov made his deal with Lavan regarding which sheep Lavan would keep and which sheep would become part of Ya'akov's own flock, he told Lavan, "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar," my righteousness will speak for itself in the coming days. The Midrash (73:6) is critical of Ya'akov for this statement. "Al tishallel b'yom machar" -- you Ya'akov said "v'ansa... machar," therefore your daughter Dinah will suffer inuy at the hands of Shchem.
The first question that begs asking is what is the connection between Ya'akov's confident boast (if you will) to Lavan and what happened to Dinah. But secondly, which is it -- did Dinah come to harm at Shchem because Ya'akov put her in a box and kept her from Eisav, or because of what he said to Lavan?
Chasam Sofer explains that the two reasons go hand in hand. "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar" is a statement of tremendous bitachon. Ya'akov felt confident that what would happen would ultimately support his claims, his position, his righteousness because G-d had promised that no harm would come to him. The downside of boasting and being supremely confident based on bitachon is that you better be consistent, or you risk getting hoisted on your own petard (see this post.) Does someone completely confident that Hashem will protect him from all harm lock his daughter in a box? Ya'akov's own words to Lavan were the ruler against which his actions were judged, and he came up short.
I think this Chasam Sofer helps answer the question we started with. A normal person like me is bothered by the question of how we know Dinah would bring Eisav to teshuvah and not the other way around. But someone who is a big ba'al bitachon, 100% confident that Hashem will work things out in his favor -- that shouldn't be his concern. Hashem promised that he would come to no harm -- what's the issue?
Speaking of risk vs. reward, I saw a Brisker Rav quoted that I don't understand. Ya'akov said that if Eisav fights against part of the camp, "V'haya ha'machaneh ha'nishar l'pleitah," the other half will escape. How did he know that they will for sure escape? Rashi explains that Ya'akov meant that he will fight back and beat off Eisav. Mashma that Ya'akov knew that if he fights, he is going to win. So why did Ya'akov bother with the presents, the davening, etc. -- why not just fight and be done with it? QED, says the Brisker Rav, that you only fight when your back is against the wall and you've exhausted every other means of resolution at your disposal.
I don't understand how this Rashi supports making a blanket rule like that. Ya'akov may have been confident that he would win, but who says there would not be casualties? Maybe in the risk/benefit scale, the cost of even a victorious battle would have been greater than the cost of the presents sent to Eisav?
Last point for the week: the Chofetz Chaim asked why is it that the malach of Eisav, the yetzer ha'ra, came to fight davka against Ya'akov? Why did a bad malach not come to fight against Avraham or fight against Yitzchak?
The Chofetz Chaim answered that the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing chessed (Avraham), the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing mitzvos and avodah (Yitzchak), but the yetzer ha'ra cannot tolerate Torah. As long as a Jew is connected to Torah, "ohr she'bah machziro l'mutav" and the yetzer can never win. Therefore, it's against Ya'akov, the symbol of Torah, the yosheiv ohalim, that the heavy guns are brought out.
Thursday, December 08, 2016
the missed exit
Rashi (28:17) writes that Ya'akov Avinu walked right past the makom mikdash on his journey to Lavan's house. When he later realized what he had done, he turned around to go back. Hashem then made a miracle and through kefitzas ha'derech brought Har HaMoriah to Ya'akov to spare him the journey. (see Ramban).
The simple pshat in Rashi -- "ya'hiv da'atei lachzor" -- is that Ya'akov set his mind to go back to the makom hamikdash and daven there. R' Moshe Scheinerman, however, suggests a different, more creative reading. Ya'akov set his mind to go back to where he was coming from -- back to the yeshiva of Shem v'Eiver where he had been learning for 14 years. Ya'akov said to himself, "Here I've been immersed in Torah for 14 straight years, and the second I leave the beis medrash my spiritual antenna become so dulled that I can walk right past the makom mikdash and not feel anything!" The only solution would be to go back to the beis medrash and improve those spiritual antenna even more. We have to be so careful when leaving the makom Torah, no matter who we are and no matter how long we have spent there, to keep our spiritual sensitivity intact.
But let's get back to the simple pshat in Rashi. Why did Hashem wait for Ya'akov to realize that he had missed an important exit on the highway and start to turn around before intervening? Why didn't Hashem stop Ya'akov before he passed Har HaMoriah in the first place?
I am going to steal a story from R' Eliezer Eisenberg's blog post from last week:
The story gives us the perspective to understand a yesod of R' Yerucham Lebovitz (in Da'as Torah on P' Braishis I think). When Ya'akov walked by the makom mikdash, he wasn't looking for anything, and so Hashem didn't come looking for him. Hashem does not ordinarily go out of His way to awaken people from their state of oblivion. However, the second Ya'akov realized his error, he became a "mevakesh" -- he immediately turned around and desired to be at the makom mikdash and to daven. When you are a "mevakesh" and are looking for Hashem, then Hashem reveals himself in kind. When you are a "mevakesh," then Hashem will even move mountains to help you on your quest.
Ya'akov's instituted the tefilah of arvis here. At first glance you would say that shacharis and mincha are far superior tefilos to arvis. There is a chiyuv to daven shacharis and mincha; tefilas arvis is a reshus (whatever that technically means). Yet we know that Ya'akov Avinu is the bechir of the Avos. How could his tefilah be the lowest rung on the ladder?
Rav Kook explains that it is precisely because arvis is a reshus that it is the greatest tefilah. When it comes to shacharis and mincha, the chiyuv is like a halachic gun to your head, so to speak. There is no choice other than to daven. When it comes to arvis, there is not that type of obligation. A person has to choose to daven arvis. A person has to be a mevakesh.
The simple pshat in Rashi -- "ya'hiv da'atei lachzor" -- is that Ya'akov set his mind to go back to the makom hamikdash and daven there. R' Moshe Scheinerman, however, suggests a different, more creative reading. Ya'akov set his mind to go back to where he was coming from -- back to the yeshiva of Shem v'Eiver where he had been learning for 14 years. Ya'akov said to himself, "Here I've been immersed in Torah for 14 straight years, and the second I leave the beis medrash my spiritual antenna become so dulled that I can walk right past the makom mikdash and not feel anything!" The only solution would be to go back to the beis medrash and improve those spiritual antenna even more. We have to be so careful when leaving the makom Torah, no matter who we are and no matter how long we have spent there, to keep our spiritual sensitivity intact.
But let's get back to the simple pshat in Rashi. Why did Hashem wait for Ya'akov to realize that he had missed an important exit on the highway and start to turn around before intervening? Why didn't Hashem stop Ya'akov before he passed Har HaMoriah in the first place?
I am going to steal a story from R' Eliezer Eisenberg's blog post from last week:
The true story is that Reb Chaim Shmuelevitz used to spend Ellul with his uncle, Reb Avraham Jofen, in Novarodok. He asked him who is the biggest metzuyan in the yeshiva, and Reb Avraham pointed to a certain bachur. Reb Chaim was surprised, and asked, not the Steipler? Reb Avraham answered "You didn't ask who was the biggest lamdan. You asked who is the biggest metzuyan. That bachur is the biggest metzuyan, because he is the biggest mevakesh in the Yeshiva.
The story gives us the perspective to understand a yesod of R' Yerucham Lebovitz (in Da'as Torah on P' Braishis I think). When Ya'akov walked by the makom mikdash, he wasn't looking for anything, and so Hashem didn't come looking for him. Hashem does not ordinarily go out of His way to awaken people from their state of oblivion. However, the second Ya'akov realized his error, he became a "mevakesh" -- he immediately turned around and desired to be at the makom mikdash and to daven. When you are a "mevakesh" and are looking for Hashem, then Hashem reveals himself in kind. When you are a "mevakesh," then Hashem will even move mountains to help you on your quest.
Ya'akov's instituted the tefilah of arvis here. At first glance you would say that shacharis and mincha are far superior tefilos to arvis. There is a chiyuv to daven shacharis and mincha; tefilas arvis is a reshus (whatever that technically means). Yet we know that Ya'akov Avinu is the bechir of the Avos. How could his tefilah be the lowest rung on the ladder?
Rav Kook explains that it is precisely because arvis is a reshus that it is the greatest tefilah. When it comes to shacharis and mincha, the chiyuv is like a halachic gun to your head, so to speak. There is no choice other than to daven. When it comes to arvis, there is not that type of obligation. A person has to choose to daven arvis. A person has to be a mevakesh.
Thursday, December 01, 2016
which was the cause and which was the effect
The Netziv in last week's parsha says something very interesting. The relationship between Rivka and Yitzchak was quite different than the relationship between Avraham and Sarah or even that of Ya'akov and his wives. Sarah had no qualms about telling Avraham how she felt about Yishmael and demanding that he kick him out of the house. Rivka doesn't communicate with Yitzchak. She knows Ya'akov deserves the brachos, but instead of telling Yitzchak directly, she arranges this whole surreptitious way of making sure he gets them. The Netziv says all this, but I think many a careful reader could figure it out too. What makes the Netziv fascinating is that the average careful reader would conclude that it's the lack of communication between Rivka and Yitzchak which is the cause of Ya'akov having to steal the brachos. The Netziv (24:65) says that it's the exact opposite. G-d wanted Ya'akov to get the brachos by "stealing" them from Eisav (see Harchev Davar to 27:1 as to why). To allow for the brachos to be gotten by "theft," Hashem caused there to be a different type of relationship between Yitzchak and Rivka. You have to know which is the horse and which is the wagon, what's the cause and what's the effect.
This distance between Yitzchak and Rivka is not something which develops over time, but rather, writes the Netziv, is set from the moment the two meet. When Rivka first sees Yitzchak, she reacts with fear and trepidation, falling from her camel, while Yitzchak is completely focused on his tefilah, blind to Rivka's presence. That meeting sets the tone for the rest of their marriage. All this so that 83 years later Ya'akov would be put in a position to use trickery to get the bracha meant for Eisav. Can you imagine Hashem causing something to happen on your first date with your wife that will set the tone of your relationship in such a way so that 83 years later some other event will work out in your lives or your children's lives?
Chazal darshen "Va'yar Elokim es kol asher asah v'hinei tov me'od" that "tov ME'OD" is the yetzer ha'ra, the malacha ha'maves. In other words, it's Eisav. "Va'yeilech haloch v'gadeil ad ki gadal ME'OD." (26:13) Yitzchak Avinu was as great as that power of "me'od." The yetzer ha'ra turns good to bad; Yitzchak thought he could inspire and turn bad to good. Isn't doing that even greater than being good to begin with? "B'chol levacha" = with both sides of your heart, so that even the Eisav side cooperates. When Eisav entered the room as Ya'akov was departing after taking the brachos, and Yitzchak finally realized the truth of who Eisav was, it's not just "va'yecherad charadah gedolah," but it's "va'yecherad charadah gedolah ad ME'OD." (see here) His dreams of overcoming "tov ME'OD" = the malach ha'maves, the yetzer ha'ra, the evil of Eisav, had been dashed. (See Sefas Emes 5631)
This distance between Yitzchak and Rivka is not something which develops over time, but rather, writes the Netziv, is set from the moment the two meet. When Rivka first sees Yitzchak, she reacts with fear and trepidation, falling from her camel, while Yitzchak is completely focused on his tefilah, blind to Rivka's presence. That meeting sets the tone for the rest of their marriage. All this so that 83 years later Ya'akov would be put in a position to use trickery to get the bracha meant for Eisav. Can you imagine Hashem causing something to happen on your first date with your wife that will set the tone of your relationship in such a way so that 83 years later some other event will work out in your lives or your children's lives?
Chazal darshen "Va'yar Elokim es kol asher asah v'hinei tov me'od" that "tov ME'OD" is the yetzer ha'ra, the malacha ha'maves. In other words, it's Eisav. "Va'yeilech haloch v'gadeil ad ki gadal ME'OD." (26:13) Yitzchak Avinu was as great as that power of "me'od." The yetzer ha'ra turns good to bad; Yitzchak thought he could inspire and turn bad to good. Isn't doing that even greater than being good to begin with? "B'chol levacha" = with both sides of your heart, so that even the Eisav side cooperates. When Eisav entered the room as Ya'akov was departing after taking the brachos, and Yitzchak finally realized the truth of who Eisav was, it's not just "va'yecherad charadah gedolah," but it's "va'yecherad charadah gedolah ad ME'OD." (see here) His dreams of overcoming "tov ME'OD" = the malach ha'maves, the yetzer ha'ra, the evil of Eisav, had been dashed. (See Sefas Emes 5631)
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
a whiff of the future
The Midrash in Parshas Noach comments on the pasuk "Vayarach Hashem es rei'ach ha'nicho'ach" that Hashem was smelling not just the fragrant odor of Noach's korban, but was also smelling Avraham in the furnace of Nimrod, he was smelling Chananya, Mishael, v'Azarya in their oven, he was smelling the sweet scent of all those who sacrifice their lives al kiddush Hashem.
When you walk through the front door of your home on Friday afternoon, you know what is cooking and your mouth begins to water even before you see the food on the stove, hear the clanging of pots and silverware, or even get to the kitchen. The aroma and smell of Shabbos food beckons and causes us to anticipate the meal ahead, the Shabbos ahead. Similarly, even though Avraham hadn't come on the scene yet, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were in the distant future, as was the sacrifice of so many others, Hashem already "smelled" and anticipated what was coming. That whiff the future proved that there was hope for mankind.
Rosh Chodesh too is a holiday of smell, of anticipation. The Shem m'Shmuel (Noach 5675) writes that the letters of the word for moon, "yareiach" = yud, reish, cheis, are the same letters as "rei'ach"=reish, yud, cheis. Rosh Chodesh comes when the moon is just a sliver, but we look forward to the day when we sill see "ohr ha'levanah k'ohr hachamah." We say in Kiddush hachodesh, "David melech yisrael chai v'kayam," in anticipation of the restoration of malchus beis David. We're not there yet, but we celebrate because we "smell" what is coming.
The gemara (Eiruvin 21) interprets Yirmiyahu's vision (ch 24) of two pots of figs, one of good figs, one of bad ones, as symbolic of tzadikim and evildoers. Perhaps, says the gemara, these rotten figs are have no value and should be tossed in the trash? The gemara responds by quoting the pasuk, "Hadudaim nasnu rei'ach," (Shir haShirim 7)interpreting "dudaim" not as mandrakes, but as the dud, the pot, of rotting figs. That pot too will give off a sweet smell. That pot may not look like much now, but Hashem smells, Hashem anticipates, and he detects a brighter future.
When I saw this Shem m'Shmuel back in Parshas Noach I put it in the back of my mind to post now because I can't understand why he didn't tie it into our parsha. Yitzchak smells the odor of Eisav's garments, "Va'yarach es rei'ach begadav." Chazal read it not as "begadav," Eisav's clothes, but "bogdav," those who rebel against Hashem. "Re'ei rei'ach b'ni k'rei'ach sadeh asher beiracho Hashem" -- Yitzchak remarks that he smells a field blessed by G-d. Yitzchak doesn't see rebellion; he smells bracha. Perhaps his loss of sight allowed Yitzchak to focus on and anticipate the future instead of dwelling only on the here and now before him, to smell instead of just seeing, and as a result, those "bogdav," rebels, he knew would turn out to be blessed as well.
When you walk through the front door of your home on Friday afternoon, you know what is cooking and your mouth begins to water even before you see the food on the stove, hear the clanging of pots and silverware, or even get to the kitchen. The aroma and smell of Shabbos food beckons and causes us to anticipate the meal ahead, the Shabbos ahead. Similarly, even though Avraham hadn't come on the scene yet, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were in the distant future, as was the sacrifice of so many others, Hashem already "smelled" and anticipated what was coming. That whiff the future proved that there was hope for mankind.
Rosh Chodesh too is a holiday of smell, of anticipation. The Shem m'Shmuel (Noach 5675) writes that the letters of the word for moon, "yareiach" = yud, reish, cheis, are the same letters as "rei'ach"=reish, yud, cheis. Rosh Chodesh comes when the moon is just a sliver, but we look forward to the day when we sill see "ohr ha'levanah k'ohr hachamah." We say in Kiddush hachodesh, "David melech yisrael chai v'kayam," in anticipation of the restoration of malchus beis David. We're not there yet, but we celebrate because we "smell" what is coming.
The gemara (Eiruvin 21) interprets Yirmiyahu's vision (ch 24) of two pots of figs, one of good figs, one of bad ones, as symbolic of tzadikim and evildoers. Perhaps, says the gemara, these rotten figs are have no value and should be tossed in the trash? The gemara responds by quoting the pasuk, "Hadudaim nasnu rei'ach," (Shir haShirim 7)interpreting "dudaim" not as mandrakes, but as the dud, the pot, of rotting figs. That pot too will give off a sweet smell. That pot may not look like much now, but Hashem smells, Hashem anticipates, and he detects a brighter future.
When I saw this Shem m'Shmuel back in Parshas Noach I put it in the back of my mind to post now because I can't understand why he didn't tie it into our parsha. Yitzchak smells the odor of Eisav's garments, "Va'yarach es rei'ach begadav." Chazal read it not as "begadav," Eisav's clothes, but "bogdav," those who rebel against Hashem. "Re'ei rei'ach b'ni k'rei'ach sadeh asher beiracho Hashem" -- Yitzchak remarks that he smells a field blessed by G-d. Yitzchak doesn't see rebellion; he smells bracha. Perhaps his loss of sight allowed Yitzchak to focus on and anticipate the future instead of dwelling only on the here and now before him, to smell instead of just seeing, and as a result, those "bogdav," rebels, he knew would turn out to be blessed as well.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
water from the well
1. Eliezer begins his prayer to Hashem to bring him the right girl for Yitzchak with the words, "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," (24:13) I am standing next to the well. Aside from the fact that the Torah already told us (24:11) that he had tied up his camels next to the well, the information seems entirely unnecessary in context.
Abarbanel explains that these words are key. If you are sitting in your home in the living room or some other room and ask one of your kids to bring you a drink, a good kid will (sooner or later) bring you the drink. But if you are standing in the kitchen next to the refrigerator and ask your kid to pour you a drink, it would be very hard for any modern kid to not at least be thinking, if not to say openly, "Why can't you get it yourself since you are standing right there?" That's just the reality of the way things are, and they probably were not that different back in Avraham's time. "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," says Eliezer -- I'm next to the refrigerator. I'm not just looking for a good girl who will bring me water when I'm a bit far away from the well. I'm looking for the girl who won't think twice about drawing the water for me even when I'm standing right there and could do it myself. That's a real special girl.
2. Yitzchak brought Rivka "ha'ohela Sarah imo," into his mother Sarah's tent. (24:67) "Ha'ohela" is a strange construction. In Hebrew there is usually not a hey ha'yediah in front of a possessive, e.g. you would say "beis chaveircha" if you were talking about a friend's house, but not "ha'beis chaveircha." See Ibn Ezra. Also, the final hey in ha'ohela seems completely out of place. HaKsav v'haKabbalah, as he always does, has an interesting linguistic insight that sheds new light (you will get the pun soon) on a pasuk we read in pesukei d'zimra every Shabbos.
In Tehillim ch 19 we read that Hashem created the heavens and sky, "b'kol ha'aretz yaztah kavam u'bi'k'tzey teivel mileihem, la'shemesh sam ohel ba'hem." The first half of the pasuk means the sky is spread over the earth, causing people to speak of its wonder (Rashi), or it's as if it declares G-d's wonders (Metzudah). The way the Rishonim explain the second half is that G-d made the sky like a tent, an ohel, which contains the sun. That's the translation you will find in your Artscroll siddur. However, that's not how the Targum renders it. Targum translates as follows: "l'shimsha shavei mishrivei ziharah be'hon" -- the sun casts its bright rays on them. Ohel can mean light.
The word uses the word ha'ohela in our pasuk, explains HaKsav v'haKabbalah, to suggest the secondary meaning of asher ohela, which gave light. The tent of Sarah, the tent of Rivka, was a place of light whose rays emanated out to the world (see Tagrum Yonasan as well).
Abarbanel explains that these words are key. If you are sitting in your home in the living room or some other room and ask one of your kids to bring you a drink, a good kid will (sooner or later) bring you the drink. But if you are standing in the kitchen next to the refrigerator and ask your kid to pour you a drink, it would be very hard for any modern kid to not at least be thinking, if not to say openly, "Why can't you get it yourself since you are standing right there?" That's just the reality of the way things are, and they probably were not that different back in Avraham's time. "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," says Eliezer -- I'm next to the refrigerator. I'm not just looking for a good girl who will bring me water when I'm a bit far away from the well. I'm looking for the girl who won't think twice about drawing the water for me even when I'm standing right there and could do it myself. That's a real special girl.
2. Yitzchak brought Rivka "ha'ohela Sarah imo," into his mother Sarah's tent. (24:67) "Ha'ohela" is a strange construction. In Hebrew there is usually not a hey ha'yediah in front of a possessive, e.g. you would say "beis chaveircha" if you were talking about a friend's house, but not "ha'beis chaveircha." See Ibn Ezra. Also, the final hey in ha'ohela seems completely out of place. HaKsav v'haKabbalah, as he always does, has an interesting linguistic insight that sheds new light (you will get the pun soon) on a pasuk we read in pesukei d'zimra every Shabbos.
In Tehillim ch 19 we read that Hashem created the heavens and sky, "b'kol ha'aretz yaztah kavam u'bi'k'tzey teivel mileihem, la'shemesh sam ohel ba'hem." The first half of the pasuk means the sky is spread over the earth, causing people to speak of its wonder (Rashi), or it's as if it declares G-d's wonders (Metzudah). The way the Rishonim explain the second half is that G-d made the sky like a tent, an ohel, which contains the sun. That's the translation you will find in your Artscroll siddur. However, that's not how the Targum renders it. Targum translates as follows: "l'shimsha shavei mishrivei ziharah be'hon" -- the sun casts its bright rays on them. Ohel can mean light.
The word uses the word ha'ohela in our pasuk, explains HaKsav v'haKabbalah, to suggest the secondary meaning of asher ohela, which gave light. The tent of Sarah, the tent of Rivka, was a place of light whose rays emanated out to the world (see Tagrum Yonasan as well).
Sunday, November 20, 2016
a mother can always carry her child
1. A fancy answer to why the malach sent to save Lot visited Avraham first (see last post)is as follows: Lot was saved because he would give rise to Moav, leading to Rus, leading to David haMelech and the lineage of Moshiach. Even in David's lifetime, there was those who thought he should not even be accepted and allowed to marry into Klal Yisrael. After all, the Torah says with respect to an Amoni and Moavi, "lo yavo b'kahal Hashem." The counterview, which prevailed l'halacha, darshened the pasuk as applying to a Moavi -- but not a Moavis, which meant Rus was kosher. What is that derasha based on? The reason the Moavim were excluded is because, "asher lo kidmu eschem b'lechem..." that they did not come out and offer food and drink to Bnei Yisrael when they passed their territory. It is the job of the men, not the women, to go out and greet others, says the gemara, and so only the males are excluded from Klal Yisrael. The proof that this is correct comes from our parsha. When the angels come to Avraham tent, they ask, "Ayei Sarah ishtecha?" where is Sarah. Avraham was the one who greeted and served the guests; Sarah remained behind the scenes, demonstrating her tzeniyus. The malach sent to Sdom had to see this behavior to ratify the derasha that excluded Moavi women, allowing for the future hechsher of Rus and David, which justified Lot's being saved.
Last's posts answer was easier to explain : )
2. Rashi writes that Yishmael was arguing with Yitzchak over the right of inheritance, and therefore he and Hagar were expelled from Avraham's home. How old was Yishmael at this time? Remember, Yishmael was already 13 when Yitzchak was born, and if the events of the parsha are recorded in order, Yitzchak was already more than 2 years old, as they already had a party to celebrate his being weaned. Realistically, he must have been a few years older to understand yerushah. So was Yismael around 20? (The Midrash says he was 17). How can Rashi be correct, asks Ramban, when we read in the parsha that Hagar hoisted the sick Yishmael (called a 'yeled') on her shoulders? Could Hagar carry a 20 year old boy plus the provisions she had?
R' Shteinman answers that no matter how big Yishmael was, a mother always has the strength to bear the burden of carrying her child.
I don't know if it's a pshat answer (see Gur Aryeh and the meforshei Rashi who discuss the issue), but it's an answer that's true anyway.
3. Speaking of bearing burdens, there is a Tzeidah la'Derech that has a beautiful comment on the repetition of "vayeilchu sh'neihem yachdav" 22:6 and again in 22:8 in the akeidah. Since the Torah makes the point of saying it a second time, it means that the first time didn't work, that the were not walking in sync yet until the second time.
An elderly person and a young person usually do not walk at the same pace. Avraham was an old man; he would have walked more slowly than the younger Yitzchak. In 22:6 the Torah tells us that Avraham gave Yitzchak the burden of carrying the wood to slow him up so that they would walk together, the first "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav."
Apparently even with the wood on his back, Yiztchak was walking faster. The Torah then tells us that Yitzchak asked Avraham where the sheep for the korban is -- they have the wood, the knife, etc., but no animal? Avraham (22:8) cryptically answered that G-d will show them then sheep. Yitzchak at that moment understood exactly what was going to transpire, that he was the korban. Now, "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav." The burden of the wood was something he could carry and still outpace the gait of Avraham, but the psychological burden of the impending akeidah was enough to slow Yitzchak's gait to match that of his father.
Last's posts answer was easier to explain : )
2. Rashi writes that Yishmael was arguing with Yitzchak over the right of inheritance, and therefore he and Hagar were expelled from Avraham's home. How old was Yishmael at this time? Remember, Yishmael was already 13 when Yitzchak was born, and if the events of the parsha are recorded in order, Yitzchak was already more than 2 years old, as they already had a party to celebrate his being weaned. Realistically, he must have been a few years older to understand yerushah. So was Yismael around 20? (The Midrash says he was 17). How can Rashi be correct, asks Ramban, when we read in the parsha that Hagar hoisted the sick Yishmael (called a 'yeled') on her shoulders? Could Hagar carry a 20 year old boy plus the provisions she had?
R' Shteinman answers that no matter how big Yishmael was, a mother always has the strength to bear the burden of carrying her child.
I don't know if it's a pshat answer (see Gur Aryeh and the meforshei Rashi who discuss the issue), but it's an answer that's true anyway.
3. Speaking of bearing burdens, there is a Tzeidah la'Derech that has a beautiful comment on the repetition of "vayeilchu sh'neihem yachdav" 22:6 and again in 22:8 in the akeidah. Since the Torah makes the point of saying it a second time, it means that the first time didn't work, that the were not walking in sync yet until the second time.
An elderly person and a young person usually do not walk at the same pace. Avraham was an old man; he would have walked more slowly than the younger Yitzchak. In 22:6 the Torah tells us that Avraham gave Yitzchak the burden of carrying the wood to slow him up so that they would walk together, the first "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav."
Apparently even with the wood on his back, Yiztchak was walking faster. The Torah then tells us that Yitzchak asked Avraham where the sheep for the korban is -- they have the wood, the knife, etc., but no animal? Avraham (22:8) cryptically answered that G-d will show them then sheep. Yitzchak at that moment understood exactly what was going to transpire, that he was the korban. Now, "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav." The burden of the wood was something he could carry and still outpace the gait of Avraham, but the psychological burden of the impending akeidah was enough to slow Yitzchak's gait to match that of his father.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
why the malach sent to destroy Sdom visited Avraham first
After posting earlier in the week about "Lot yosehiv b'Sdom," I guess the logical place to start on the new parsha would be the description of Avraham, "v'hu yosheiv pesach ha'ohel." Avraham experienced post-milah a tremendous revelation of G-d's presence, and nonetheless, Avraham remained "yosheiv," present tense, in the doorway, at the threshold, feeling not yet there, like he had not yet entered and arrived at where he wants to be (Sefas Emes). That's how we all should feel, otherwise we would stop growing.
Chazal tell us that the three visitors who came to Avraham were in reality three malachim, one of whom came to heal Avraham, one of whom came to tell Sarah that she would have a child, and one of whom came to destroy Sdom. Why did this last malach need to visit Avraham’s home? Couldn’t he have gone directly to Sdom? (See Gur Aryeh)
One of the strategies used by oppressors is to dehumanize their victims and enemies so that it becomes easier to treat them harshly. The Torah takes the opposite approach. The Ne’os Desheh of Ishbitz explains that before administering justice, the malach of din needed to first see the potential for greatness in mankind -- the gemilus chassadim Avraham demonstrated and the heights simple flesh and blood can rise to. At first, when the malachim arrived they were “nitzavim alav,” standing above, i.e. on a higher madreiga, than where they thought even Avraham could be holding. By the time the food was served, “v’hu omeid aleihem,” he stood above them. When they left, the Torah tells us that Avraham escorted his guests, “v’hu holeich imam." Something of Avraham’s chessed was carried with those angels even as they continued on their way to fulfill their mission of destruction. Avraham's efforts could not help Sdom, but the payback would come years later when Bnei Yisrael themselves would be deserving of punishment but would be spared. The midas ha'din was tempered by having seen the greatness of Avraham's home. (I'm not sure what I wrote fits what the Ishbitzer says exactly, so blame me if you don't like it, and see Sefas Emes in a few places on "ha'michaseh ani mei'Avraham" who says something similar).
The malachim finally get to Sdom in time for a Pesach seder with Lot. What's going on here with Lot baking matzah to serve them? I think the answer is that this is Lot's yetzi'as Mitzrayim. This is the night where even though "halalu ovdei avodah zarah v'halalu ovdei avodah zarah," even though Lot was not so different than the people of Sdom (after all, he chose to live there), and might not even deserve to be saved on his own merits, he would get pulled out of the fire. Just as Bnei Yisrael could not tarry when they left Egypt, the malachim tell Lot not to tarry -- to just run.
"Va'tabeit ishto mei'acharav..." On the way, Lot's wife looked back. Shouldn't it say "mei'achareha," in the feminine? When Moshe Rabeinu asked Hashem to reveal Himself, meaning, to explain the mystery of tzadik v'ra lo v'rasha v'tov lo, Hashem answered, "v'ra'isa es achorai u'panay lo yeira'u," you can see my back but not my face. We can only understand in hindsight, from a great distance away in time. We cannot understand things so clearly as they unfold before us. Lot's wife looked back at Sdom and struggled at that moment to understand the "mei'acharav," the back of Hashem, the hindsight view, the explanation for Divine justice. That was a privilege that she did not deserve to enjoy. (see Alshich)
Chazal tell us that the three visitors who came to Avraham were in reality three malachim, one of whom came to heal Avraham, one of whom came to tell Sarah that she would have a child, and one of whom came to destroy Sdom. Why did this last malach need to visit Avraham’s home? Couldn’t he have gone directly to Sdom? (See Gur Aryeh)
One of the strategies used by oppressors is to dehumanize their victims and enemies so that it becomes easier to treat them harshly. The Torah takes the opposite approach. The Ne’os Desheh of Ishbitz explains that before administering justice, the malach of din needed to first see the potential for greatness in mankind -- the gemilus chassadim Avraham demonstrated and the heights simple flesh and blood can rise to. At first, when the malachim arrived they were “nitzavim alav,” standing above, i.e. on a higher madreiga, than where they thought even Avraham could be holding. By the time the food was served, “v’hu omeid aleihem,” he stood above them. When they left, the Torah tells us that Avraham escorted his guests, “v’hu holeich imam." Something of Avraham’s chessed was carried with those angels even as they continued on their way to fulfill their mission of destruction. Avraham's efforts could not help Sdom, but the payback would come years later when Bnei Yisrael themselves would be deserving of punishment but would be spared. The midas ha'din was tempered by having seen the greatness of Avraham's home. (I'm not sure what I wrote fits what the Ishbitzer says exactly, so blame me if you don't like it, and see Sefas Emes in a few places on "ha'michaseh ani mei'Avraham" who says something similar).
The malachim finally get to Sdom in time for a Pesach seder with Lot. What's going on here with Lot baking matzah to serve them? I think the answer is that this is Lot's yetzi'as Mitzrayim. This is the night where even though "halalu ovdei avodah zarah v'halalu ovdei avodah zarah," even though Lot was not so different than the people of Sdom (after all, he chose to live there), and might not even deserve to be saved on his own merits, he would get pulled out of the fire. Just as Bnei Yisrael could not tarry when they left Egypt, the malachim tell Lot not to tarry -- to just run.
"Va'tabeit ishto mei'acharav..." On the way, Lot's wife looked back. Shouldn't it say "mei'achareha," in the feminine? When Moshe Rabeinu asked Hashem to reveal Himself, meaning, to explain the mystery of tzadik v'ra lo v'rasha v'tov lo, Hashem answered, "v'ra'isa es achorai u'panay lo yeira'u," you can see my back but not my face. We can only understand in hindsight, from a great distance away in time. We cannot understand things so clearly as they unfold before us. Lot's wife looked back at Sdom and struggled at that moment to understand the "mei'acharav," the back of Hashem, the hindsight view, the explanation for Divine justice. That was a privilege that she did not deserve to enjoy. (see Alshich)
Monday, November 14, 2016
v'Lot yosheiv b'Sdom - no regrets
1. Last post I dealt with the question on why Avraham had to ask G-d for a child when he saw b'nevuah Ya'akov and the shevatim and when he saw b'nevuah Bnei Yisrael entering Eretz Yisrael. Obviously he would have offspring! Nevuah is like knowing the ending scenes of a movie -- no matter how suspenseful the plot is, you know the conclusion.
My wife's grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, gave a simpler answer than the one I posted last week. My analogy to a movie is all wrong. When the navi is given a glimpse of the future, he is seeing the possible future based on the madreigah he is on at that moment. If he or his offspring fail to live up to their potential, then that vision and future will never come to fruition.
My wife's grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, gave a simpler answer than the one I posted last week. My analogy to a movie is all wrong. When the navi is given a glimpse of the future, he is seeing the possible future based on the madreigah he is on at that moment. If he or his offspring fail to live up to their potential, then that vision and future will never come to fruition.
2. In discussing the pasuk of “VaYikchu es Lot v’es rechusho ben achi Avram… " last week, I did not deal with the end of the pasuk, "v'Lot yosheiv b'Sdom." We know already that Lot had left Avraham to move to Sdom. Why does the parsha repeat this point here?
Ohr haChaim suggests as follows: Avraham by this time was already a well known personality. In a short time we will read in Chayei Sarah that the people of Cheis call him a prince. So how did anyone dare lay a hand on Lot, Avraham's relative? The Torah gives us the answer: "v'Lot yosheiv b'Sdom." They saw a Lot who was disconnected, a Lot who had abandoned the spirituality of Avraham's home, a Lot who had forsaken his family and their beliefs in his pursuit of a different lifestyle.
What they did not reckon for is that even if Lot turned his back on Avraham, Avraham would never turn his back on Lot. Maybe a temporary split with Lot was necessary, but once Lot was in trouble, Avraham would always be there for him.
I thought perhaps the Torah is telling us something else here. Put yourself in Lot's shoes: you left Avraham to go move to greener pastures, and suddenly you find yourself in the midst of a war, taken hostage, and all the wealth you had accumulated thanks to Avraham gone. What would be going through your mind? I know what I would be thinking. I would be imagining the quiet evenings sitting in an armchair in Avraham's tent and kicking myself for turning my back on that.
The Ba'al Shem taught that a person is where his machshava is. You can be eating in your dining room on Shabbos night, but because you have in the back of your mind your eiruv techumin that is sitting 2000 amos away, that's considered your makom shevisah. You would expect to find a regretful, remorseful Lot thinking of Avraham's home that he had abandoned, and therefore, that's where he would be. No, says the Torah! Even after being taken captive and losing everything, "v'Lot yosheiv b'Sdom," Lot was still mentally living in Sdom, connected with that place, that lifestyle. He still did not turn his thoughts to Avraham, he still had no remorse over leaving and could not imagine himself returning.
3. My wife asked the following question: Each one of the five kings mentioned by the Torah is named (14:2): "Bera melech Sdom, Birsha melech Amorah, Shinav melech Admah, v'Shemever melech Tzvoyim," with the exception of the last one, "u'melech Bela hi Tzo'ar." Why is his name not given? All we have is the name of the place King Anonymous ruled over, but not his name. My simple answer is that he had no name, i.e. once he assumed the throne he was just known as "The King." Does anyone else have a better idea?
I thought perhaps the Torah is telling us something else here. Put yourself in Lot's shoes: you left Avraham to go move to greener pastures, and suddenly you find yourself in the midst of a war, taken hostage, and all the wealth you had accumulated thanks to Avraham gone. What would be going through your mind? I know what I would be thinking. I would be imagining the quiet evenings sitting in an armchair in Avraham's tent and kicking myself for turning my back on that.
The Ba'al Shem taught that a person is where his machshava is. You can be eating in your dining room on Shabbos night, but because you have in the back of your mind your eiruv techumin that is sitting 2000 amos away, that's considered your makom shevisah. You would expect to find a regretful, remorseful Lot thinking of Avraham's home that he had abandoned, and therefore, that's where he would be. No, says the Torah! Even after being taken captive and losing everything, "v'Lot yosheiv b'Sdom," Lot was still mentally living in Sdom, connected with that place, that lifestyle. He still did not turn his thoughts to Avraham, he still had no remorse over leaving and could not imagine himself returning.
3. My wife asked the following question: Each one of the five kings mentioned by the Torah is named (14:2): "Bera melech Sdom, Birsha melech Amorah, Shinav melech Admah, v'Shemever melech Tzvoyim," with the exception of the last one, "u'melech Bela hi Tzo'ar." Why is his name not given? All we have is the name of the place King Anonymous ruled over, but not his name. My simple answer is that he had no name, i.e. once he assumed the throne he was just known as "The King." Does anyone else have a better idea?
Thursday, November 10, 2016
the rechush of Lot
“VaYikchu es Lot v’es rechusho ben achi Avram…” (14:11) The phrasing of the pasuk is difficult. Shouldn’t it have said “Lot achi Avram v’rechusho?” Why put “achi Avram” after the word rechush?
We know from later in the parsha that Lot had no problem leaving Avraham for the greener pastures of Sdom, so we know that Lot was not exactly committed to Avram's mission. Why did he follow Avram to Eretz Yisrael to begin with? Rav Kook explains (Shmu'os Ra'AY"H) that it was the neshomah of Rus, the lineage of Moshiach, that was deep within Lot which drew him like a magnet to follow Avraham Avinu and go to Eretz Yisrael. Ask one of the Jews who show up to shul on R"H, Y"K, and maybe attend a seder why they do it and you are not going to here a philosophical explanation. They probably can't articulate a rational explanation. It's something inexplicable that draws them there, something inside that they haven't manage to kill (sometimes despite their best efforts).
R' Kalman Frankel (the compiler of the Shemuo's Ra'AY"H) explains derech derush that the nations of the world sensed this in Lot as well. The rechush they were after was not cash or jewels -- the rechush they were after the fact that he was "achi Avram." The sensed there was a spiritual time bomb in Lot that was set to be activated somehow by his relationship with Avraham. They were out to stop that by any means. You leave a Lot around with an Avraham anywhere in the neighborhood and who knows -- the kids may become ba'alei teshuvah and wind up as Roshei Yeshiva somewhere. The nations know this better than we do, and so they want to get rid of the Lot's of the world completely.
Rav Kook goes so far as to suggest that the reason G-d appeared to Avraham after the war against the five kings to reassure him that his reward will still be great and he will have a son who will inherit him is because Avraham sensed that Lot held the key to future redemption and was concerned that perhaps Lot and his offspring would be the central players in G-d's plan instead of Avraham and his own offspring!
The mefoshim (see Ramban, Ohr haChaim, Seforno) wonder why Avraham was so anxious lest he not have children and why he needed to ask -- tefilah -- for this when earlier in the parsha (13:15-16) Hashem already promised Avraham that his children will inherit Eretz Yisrael and his descendants will be as innumerable as the sand. Ramban says that tzadikim always are worried that they may prove unworthy of Hashem's promises. But the question goes beyond being worth of a promise. One of the first things Avraham did when he came into Eretz Yisrael was go to Shechem. Rashi (12:6) explains that he davened there for Ya’akov’s children, who would have to one day fight Shechem. He then camped near the city of Ay, and Rashi (12:8) again explains that Avraham came there to daven for his children, because he saw the sin of Achan that would happen in the battle against Ay. Avraham saw Ya’akov Avinu and his children, he foresaw Yehoshua leading Bnei Yisrael into Eretz Yisrael. This wasn't just a promise -- it's like seeing the later scenes in a movie. I'm in the middle of reading a book about the days leading up to Pearl Harbor (I like history), and it's very suspenseful, but for all the suspense, I know what's going to happen -- there is no surprise ending in store. Avraham saw he future of his children just like I know the history of the past. So what was he worried about? Why did he need to daven for a child?
The Sefas Emes discusses this in the likkutim here, but the yesod is really the same idea we discussed 2 years ago from the Sefas Emes on Purim. The megillah (4:1) tells us that Mordechai knew what had happened, “u’Mordechai yada es kol asher na’asah,” and he put on sackcloth and ashes and went crying through the streets.
What did Mordechai know that no one else knew? The end of the previous chapter in the megillah says that messengers went out to the entire kingdom with the decree to carry out Haman’s plot, and the city of Shushan was in a state of confusion. Everyone knew what was going on!
Answers the Sefas Emes: Mordechai knew that in shamayim the refuah for this decree was already in place and there was no chance of it becoming a reality. Nonetheless, he went out to the streets mourning and crying and being mispallel as if his life and the life of Klal Yisrael depended on it.
When I wrote this up two years ago I stressed the idea of being mishtatef in the tzarah of the tzibur, but here the Sefas Emes stresses the philosophical idea: yedi’ah and bechirah -- the twain can never meet. Even if a person is shown a glimpse of the future and knows what’s going to happen, that does not excuse him/her from doing whatever needs to be done in the present just as if he/she knew nothing. Avraham could see it all, but he still had a mitzvah to beseech Hashem for a son as if nothing was determined and no promises were on the table. Ya’akov Avinu was promised that Hashem would return him home safely, and nonetheless, he davened and made plans to fight Eisav as if nothing was guaranteed. Mordechai knew it would work out okay for Klal Yisrael, but he still fulfilled his chiyuv of tefilah as if everything hung in the balance.
I’m having a hard time digesting and comprehending this idea, but I thought it was worth trying to write it up in the hopes of getting a handle on it myself.
Sunday, November 06, 2016
missing the boat
1. You would think that after seeing the punishment of the mabul, Noach would be a little careful and not get drunk right after leaving the teivah. It's am amazing thing. Sefas Emes (in the likkutim) explains that the truth is that Noach didn't drink any more after he left the teivah than he used to drink before he entered the teivah. What he didn't realize is that the world had changed. The wine that he used to be able to handle without a problem before the mabul now got him drunk. The Tolna Rebbe notes the lesson for us: we have to recognize that the world changes, and what used to work and be accepted may not work anymore. It used to be that a teacher could hit a child in cheider and that was considered acceptable. Today, you can't educate a child that way. There are many, many other examples one can give. I saw an article very recently where argues that a certain practice was improper because our bubbes in the shtetl didn't do things that way. Our bubbes in the shtel didn't have washing machines either, and didn't attend college, and didn't go to nail salons, but we live in a different world. Of course, you have to know what can be accommodated and what is a true breach of halacha that has to be rejected, but that's why a person needs brains and advice from big talmidei chachamim.
2. Rashi quotes on "Noach ish tzadik tamim haya b'dorosav" that "yesh dorshim l'shevach v'yesh dorshim l'genai." Some explain this as a positive statement: Noach would have been all that much greater had he lived in better times. Some darshen it as a negative: Noach was great only because those around him were so bad and the bar was set so low.
Many ask: if it's possible to darshen the pasuk in a way the gives credit to Noach, why darshen it in a way that reflects badly on him? I saw quoted from the Gerrer that those who darshen l'genai are trying to teach us a profound lesson as well. Obviously Hashem will save a perfect tzadik. The chiddush of our parsha is that Hashem will rescue even a flawed tzadik, even someone who is only "tzadik b'dorosav," relative to the low bar of his time.
3. Daughter #2 is in Queens College and has a sociology professor who one day happened to remark to the class that he lives in Brooklyn and sometimes passes through the hassidic neighborhoods and he is amazed at how the kids grow up retaining such a strong identity and remaining isolated from modernity.
4.
Rainbow cookies were on sale this week in the supermarket, so my wife bought some for Shabbos. When Daughter #3 was asked why she thought the cookies were on sale for Parshas Noach, she replied, "Easy -- because the cookies have three layers just like the teivah had three decks."
Talk about missing the boat. (That was bad)
Why give the simple answer that everyone else thinks of?
2. Rashi quotes on "Noach ish tzadik tamim haya b'dorosav" that "yesh dorshim l'shevach v'yesh dorshim l'genai." Some explain this as a positive statement: Noach would have been all that much greater had he lived in better times. Some darshen it as a negative: Noach was great only because those around him were so bad and the bar was set so low.
Many ask: if it's possible to darshen the pasuk in a way the gives credit to Noach, why darshen it in a way that reflects badly on him? I saw quoted from the Gerrer that those who darshen l'genai are trying to teach us a profound lesson as well. Obviously Hashem will save a perfect tzadik. The chiddush of our parsha is that Hashem will rescue even a flawed tzadik, even someone who is only "tzadik b'dorosav," relative to the low bar of his time.
3. Daughter #2 is in Queens College and has a sociology professor who one day happened to remark to the class that he lives in Brooklyn and sometimes passes through the hassidic neighborhoods and he is amazed at how the kids grow up retaining such a strong identity and remaining isolated from modernity.
4.
Talk about missing the boat. (That was bad)
Why give the simple answer that everyone else thinks of?
Thursday, November 03, 2016
the power of a single individual
“Es ha’Elokim hishalech Noach,” explains the Netziv, means that Noach did not just do good because it was right, but he did it l’shem shamayim. “Noach tzadik tamim haya b’dorosav…” The gemara says that if someone gives tzedaka on condition that his child recover from illness, that person is a tzadik gamur. Even if the person acts and gives she’lo lishma, not purely l’shem shamayim, he is still called a tzadik. He can’t, however, be called a tamim. Noach was a “tzadik tamim,” a title the Torah justifies by telling us, “Es ha’Elokim hishalech Noach,” that he acted l’shem shamayim.
Just being a tzadik on your own is a great thing, but it’s not enough. The flood is called “mei Noach” because Noach bears responsibility for not doing more, for not davening for his generation and not trying to influence them to change. We think Noach being given refuge in the ark was a great thing, a tremendous zechus, but Rav Reuvain Katz suggests that there was an element of punishment in it as well. Imagine Noach sitting day after day in that cramped ark: he had no way of knowing how long he would be there for, no way of knowing whether he had enough food for himself and the animals with him, no sunlight or fresh water. Supposedly Seattle has the highest s uicide rate because it always rains there. Imagine what living in an ark for a year of a mabul must have been like! G-d commands Noach, “Bo atah v’kol beischa el ha’teivah,” (7:1) enter the ark, “ki OSCHA ra’isi tzadik lifanay” – because I see that YOU are a tzadik – YOU ALONE! You lived a life surrounded by a society of shmutz where everyone needs kiruv and chizuk and you didn’t have an influence or impact on even one single person? Not one?! That’s not acceptable. You will get saved because you are a tzadik, but it will be in a cramped, unpleasant ark, with no small amount of suffering involved.
We have the flip side in our parsha as well. “Va’Yizkor Elokim es Noach… va’yashoku hamayim.” (8:1) In reality, had it not been for Noach, it sounds like the flood would have continued for longer… maybe indefinitely. Hashem remembered Noach, and as a result of that one tzadik, the flood stopped for the entire world. Rav Reuvain Katz writes that he spoke on Rosh haShana in 1916 amidst a shortage of food and danger on all sides from WWI which was then raging, and he chose as his theme this pasuk of “vayizkor Elkim es Noach…” which is mentioned in zichronos of musaf. What can we do to change things when there is global turmoil and upheaval surrounding us? The answer is that we can change ourselves. One tzadik, one individual, is enough to cause Hashem to stop a mabul or a famine or even a war, even if no one else deserves it. What happens in the world does not determine the fate of the tzadik; it is the tzadik who determines the fate of the world.
“Eileh – poseil es harishonim.” Chazal darshen that the word “eileh” usually means the pasuk or parsha supersedes whatever came before it. Parshas Braishis, writes the Sefas Emes, is the parsha of “eileh toldos shamayim va’aretz.” It is the story of the creation of the cosmos, in which man has but one chapter. “Eileh toldos Noach” supersedes that story. It is the story of the tzadik, in which the (re)creation of the world is a chapter. We are not actors playing parts in the story of the world; the world is an actor playing a part in our story. What happens is entirely up to us.
Just being a tzadik on your own is a great thing, but it’s not enough. The flood is called “mei Noach” because Noach bears responsibility for not doing more, for not davening for his generation and not trying to influence them to change. We think Noach being given refuge in the ark was a great thing, a tremendous zechus, but Rav Reuvain Katz suggests that there was an element of punishment in it as well. Imagine Noach sitting day after day in that cramped ark: he had no way of knowing how long he would be there for, no way of knowing whether he had enough food for himself and the animals with him, no sunlight or fresh water. Supposedly Seattle has the highest s uicide rate because it always rains there. Imagine what living in an ark for a year of a mabul must have been like! G-d commands Noach, “Bo atah v’kol beischa el ha’teivah,” (7:1) enter the ark, “ki OSCHA ra’isi tzadik lifanay” – because I see that YOU are a tzadik – YOU ALONE! You lived a life surrounded by a society of shmutz where everyone needs kiruv and chizuk and you didn’t have an influence or impact on even one single person? Not one?! That’s not acceptable. You will get saved because you are a tzadik, but it will be in a cramped, unpleasant ark, with no small amount of suffering involved.
We have the flip side in our parsha as well. “Va’Yizkor Elokim es Noach… va’yashoku hamayim.” (8:1) In reality, had it not been for Noach, it sounds like the flood would have continued for longer… maybe indefinitely. Hashem remembered Noach, and as a result of that one tzadik, the flood stopped for the entire world. Rav Reuvain Katz writes that he spoke on Rosh haShana in 1916 amidst a shortage of food and danger on all sides from WWI which was then raging, and he chose as his theme this pasuk of “vayizkor Elkim es Noach…” which is mentioned in zichronos of musaf. What can we do to change things when there is global turmoil and upheaval surrounding us? The answer is that we can change ourselves. One tzadik, one individual, is enough to cause Hashem to stop a mabul or a famine or even a war, even if no one else deserves it. What happens in the world does not determine the fate of the tzadik; it is the tzadik who determines the fate of the world.
“Eileh – poseil es harishonim.” Chazal darshen that the word “eileh” usually means the pasuk or parsha supersedes whatever came before it. Parshas Braishis, writes the Sefas Emes, is the parsha of “eileh toldos shamayim va’aretz.” It is the story of the creation of the cosmos, in which man has but one chapter. “Eileh toldos Noach” supersedes that story. It is the story of the tzadik, in which the (re)creation of the world is a chapter. We are not actors playing parts in the story of the world; the world is an actor playing a part in our story. What happens is entirely up to us.
Monday, October 31, 2016
tohu va'vohu is part of the process of creation
1. The opening of Braishis is the story of creation. Why then are we treated to the introduction of “v’ha’aretz haysa tohu va’vohu,” a description of the pre-creation void? B'shlama if you interpret the pesukim like Ramban, namely, that tohu va’vohu is some kind of building block matter necessary for all else to be created, then I guess it makes sense. But according to Rashi, who understands tohu va’vohu to simply be a void and chaos, why mention it? If you were to describe an artist at work, you would talk about the brushstrokes on the canvas, not the blank canvas that was there before he started to paint. Why talk about what was there before G-d started making our world and the universe?
Sefas Emes explains that the Torah / G-d is teaching us about how to create, what creativity means. The artist doesn't just sit down and produce a great work of art, a great piece of literature. There are dozens of prior sketches that are first tested and discarded, dozens of drafts that don't make it further than the trash bin. Hashem was "birei olamos u'machrivan." At first there was tohu va'vohu. This is not pre-creation -- this gufa is part of the process of creation. Every act of creation, growth, advancement, always first starts with chaos and void.
It's difficult as a parent when your kids are growing up and sometimes it seems like they have no idea what direction that are going in or what direction they want to go in and you wonder why they just can't get on with it and mature. I was just telling my wife yesterday that this is the Sefas Emes -- you can't the "ye'hi ohr" without first having a little "tohu va'vohu." And it doesn't just apply to kids either : )
2. The parsha tells us that Kayin named his son Chanoch and "va'yehi boneh ir vayikra shem ha'ir k'shem b'no Chanoch." Kayin was a builder -- boneh=present tense -- of a city, and he named this city Chanoch, the same name as his son. Kli Yakar reads this in a negative light. Sometimes you have people who once they get a starter house are already planning on how to move up to a bigger house, and then once they get the bigger house they want an even bigger one. Kayin kept building that city -- he couldn't stop. He was never done; it was never past tense for him. He was so captured and engrossed in physical land and space, in the size of his house, his city, that it became his life's sole focus.
I prefer to put a more positive spin on it. HaKsav vHaKabbalah notes that the name Chanoch comes from the word "chinuch" = education. It's not by chance that Kayin took this name for his son and his city. Kayin knew he was a sinner and knew he had weak points. He needed to constantly remind himself, to educate himself, as to what the correct approach to life should be. What better way to have a constant reminder of that than to name his son and his hometown Chanoch? Maybe that's why Kayin is described as a builder, "boneh," in the present tense. He was always building -- building himself. Were he to stop, were he to not have that reminder, the building, himself, might collapse.
We say in Neilah and in our slichos that we are saddened when we see, "b're'osi kol ir al tilah benuyah," every city built up, "v'ir Elokim mushpeles...," but the city of G-d so downtrodden. The Shem m'Shmuel suggests that the word "ir" can be interpreted to mean hisorerus. When it comes to outside pursuits, we are awake and eager, but when it comes to zeal and enthusiasm for Hashem, suddenly the air is out of the balloon. I want to piggyback on his derush and apply it to Kayin. "Va'yehi boneh ir"-- Kayim was constantly involved in building his hisore'rus. He knew that he was living life on a slippery downward slope, and the only way not to fall back was to keep climbing.
Sefas Emes explains that the Torah / G-d is teaching us about how to create, what creativity means. The artist doesn't just sit down and produce a great work of art, a great piece of literature. There are dozens of prior sketches that are first tested and discarded, dozens of drafts that don't make it further than the trash bin. Hashem was "birei olamos u'machrivan." At first there was tohu va'vohu. This is not pre-creation -- this gufa is part of the process of creation. Every act of creation, growth, advancement, always first starts with chaos and void.
It's difficult as a parent when your kids are growing up and sometimes it seems like they have no idea what direction that are going in or what direction they want to go in and you wonder why they just can't get on with it and mature. I was just telling my wife yesterday that this is the Sefas Emes -- you can't the "ye'hi ohr" without first having a little "tohu va'vohu." And it doesn't just apply to kids either : )
2. The parsha tells us that Kayin named his son Chanoch and "va'yehi boneh ir vayikra shem ha'ir k'shem b'no Chanoch." Kayin was a builder -- boneh=present tense -- of a city, and he named this city Chanoch, the same name as his son. Kli Yakar reads this in a negative light. Sometimes you have people who once they get a starter house are already planning on how to move up to a bigger house, and then once they get the bigger house they want an even bigger one. Kayin kept building that city -- he couldn't stop. He was never done; it was never past tense for him. He was so captured and engrossed in physical land and space, in the size of his house, his city, that it became his life's sole focus.
I prefer to put a more positive spin on it. HaKsav vHaKabbalah notes that the name Chanoch comes from the word "chinuch" = education. It's not by chance that Kayin took this name for his son and his city. Kayin knew he was a sinner and knew he had weak points. He needed to constantly remind himself, to educate himself, as to what the correct approach to life should be. What better way to have a constant reminder of that than to name his son and his hometown Chanoch? Maybe that's why Kayin is described as a builder, "boneh," in the present tense. He was always building -- building himself. Were he to stop, were he to not have that reminder, the building, himself, might collapse.
We say in Neilah and in our slichos that we are saddened when we see, "b're'osi kol ir al tilah benuyah," every city built up, "v'ir Elokim mushpeles...," but the city of G-d so downtrodden. The Shem m'Shmuel suggests that the word "ir" can be interpreted to mean hisorerus. When it comes to outside pursuits, we are awake and eager, but when it comes to zeal and enthusiasm for Hashem, suddenly the air is out of the balloon. I want to piggyback on his derush and apply it to Kayin. "Va'yehi boneh ir"-- Kayim was constantly involved in building his hisore'rus. He knew that he was living life on a slippery downward slope, and the only way not to fall back was to keep climbing.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
division of labor
Which is better – to do a mitzvah with zerizus, or to do it in a more mehudar fashion? If you have a choice of doing netilas lulav with a kosher esrog first thing in the morning or doing it later in the day with a more mehudar esrog, which is better?
Kayin brought his korban first, but Hevel brought the nicer offering, and we know which one G-d favored, right?
“Va’tosef la’ledes ES ACHIV es Hevel…” (4:2) Considering that we were just told that Adam and Chavah, the only people in the world, gave birth to a son named Kayin, isn’t it obvious that Hevel, born next, was his brother? Why does the Torah spell out “ES ACHIV?”
I would guess the Torah is doing a little foreshadowing. The emphasis on “ACHIV” sets us up for the famous question, “Ha’shomer ACHI anochi?” - “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Netziv, however, has a little deeper pshat, but before we get to what he says about Hevel, we first need to revisit the birth of Kayin.
There is a marked difference between the description of Kayin’s birth, “Va’tahar va’teiled es Kayin,” (4:1) and the description of Sheis’ birth, “Va’teiled ben va’tikra es shmo Sheis.” In the latter case, the Torah tells us that there was a baby born, and then tells us that the baby was given a name. We find the same thing by Noach’s birth. Not so when it comes to Kayin. Here, the Torah tells us that Kayin – not a baby -- was born, period. It is as if from the moment of birth, this was Kayin. No other name was possible; that’s who he was.
The name Kayin comes from the same root as “kinyan,” something acquired. A kinyan has a purpose, a use and benefit for its owner. Adam had been given the punishment of having to work and toil in the field, and at first there was no one else in the world for him to share that burden with. When Adam and Chavah had a child, they saw it as a gift from Hashem to help them in their toil. Kayin was their kinyan.
When the next child was born, he too might have been destined for the field, but mankind came up with a fantastic idea. Kayin would devote himself to taking care of the crops, and the extra set of hands of Hevel would be free to accomplish other things. After all, who is satisfied with just having food on his plate? Where would we be without iphones and everything else? “Hevel havolim… hakol hevel” -- the words are probably still ringing in our ears from Sukkos. You have to be free from spending all day toiling in a field to have time to think about luxuries.
We call that division of labor – you grow the crops, I’ll take care of something else. Together we will split the results and the world will be a better place. The Torah calls it “achva.” When Hevel was born, the concept of brotherhood, of shared responsibility, was born as well: "ES ACHIV es Hevel."
The Midrash (B"R 22) writes that what triggered Hevel's murder was that Kayin and he decided to divide the world between them, with Kayin taking all the land and Hevel all portable goods. Of course, you can't raise sheep or put up a house unless you do it on land. And by the same token, you can't tend to land without clothes that come from sheep to keep you warm. Kayin and Hevel lost sight of the fact that without cooperation, both were doomed to fail.
Kayin brought his korban first, but Hevel brought the nicer offering, and we know which one G-d favored, right?
“Va’tosef la’ledes ES ACHIV es Hevel…” (4:2) Considering that we were just told that Adam and Chavah, the only people in the world, gave birth to a son named Kayin, isn’t it obvious that Hevel, born next, was his brother? Why does the Torah spell out “ES ACHIV?”
I would guess the Torah is doing a little foreshadowing. The emphasis on “ACHIV” sets us up for the famous question, “Ha’shomer ACHI anochi?” - “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Netziv, however, has a little deeper pshat, but before we get to what he says about Hevel, we first need to revisit the birth of Kayin.
There is a marked difference between the description of Kayin’s birth, “Va’tahar va’teiled es Kayin,” (4:1) and the description of Sheis’ birth, “Va’teiled ben va’tikra es shmo Sheis.” In the latter case, the Torah tells us that there was a baby born, and then tells us that the baby was given a name. We find the same thing by Noach’s birth. Not so when it comes to Kayin. Here, the Torah tells us that Kayin – not a baby -- was born, period. It is as if from the moment of birth, this was Kayin. No other name was possible; that’s who he was.
The name Kayin comes from the same root as “kinyan,” something acquired. A kinyan has a purpose, a use and benefit for its owner. Adam had been given the punishment of having to work and toil in the field, and at first there was no one else in the world for him to share that burden with. When Adam and Chavah had a child, they saw it as a gift from Hashem to help them in their toil. Kayin was their kinyan.
When the next child was born, he too might have been destined for the field, but mankind came up with a fantastic idea. Kayin would devote himself to taking care of the crops, and the extra set of hands of Hevel would be free to accomplish other things. After all, who is satisfied with just having food on his plate? Where would we be without iphones and everything else? “Hevel havolim… hakol hevel” -- the words are probably still ringing in our ears from Sukkos. You have to be free from spending all day toiling in a field to have time to think about luxuries.
We call that division of labor – you grow the crops, I’ll take care of something else. Together we will split the results and the world will be a better place. The Torah calls it “achva.” When Hevel was born, the concept of brotherhood, of shared responsibility, was born as well: "ES ACHIV es Hevel."
The Midrash (B"R 22) writes that what triggered Hevel's murder was that Kayin and he decided to divide the world between them, with Kayin taking all the land and Hevel all portable goods. Of course, you can't raise sheep or put up a house unless you do it on land. And by the same token, you can't tend to land without clothes that come from sheep to keep you warm. Kayin and Hevel lost sight of the fact that without cooperation, both were doomed to fail.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
she'hechiyanu on a new kiyum mitzvah (but not a new ma'aseh mitzvah)
There was a boy called up to the Torah as a bar mitzvah this morning in shul. My wife asked me an interesting question: would the bar mitzvah have to make a she'hechiyanu tomorrow morning when he takes his lulav and esrog? My peirush to question: even though the bar mitzvah boy has been doing the mitzvah of lulav from day #1 of the chag, that was a kiyum of the mitzvah of chinuch. Tomorrow will be the first day in which he is doing netilas lulav as a kiyum of netilas lulav. Would you say that the new kiyum mitzvah of netilas lulav obligates him to say she'hechiyanu even though it is the same ma'aseh mitzvah he has been doing all week?
[Update: take a look at the Tosefes Bikurim at the back of the Aruch LaNer on Sukkah, siman 637.]
[Update: take a look at the Tosefes Bikurim at the back of the Aruch LaNer on Sukkah, siman 637.]
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Sukkos - chag of bitachon
The Mishna tells us that a dry lulav and a stolen lulav are both pasul. The gemara (Sukkah 29b) deduces from the fact that both cases are lumped together that they are similar. Therefore, just as a dry lulav is pasul for all 7 days of the chag, so too, a stolen lulav must also be pasul for all 7 days. The sugya then goes on to explain the source for that din.
Rashi explains why a dry lulav is pasul for all 7 days:
בשלמא יבש. פסול בדרבנן נמי כיון דמצוה הוא משום זכר למקדש בעינן הדור מצוה
Why does Rashi need to mention in this context that the taking of lulav all seven days is a zecher l'mikdash? Why is that relevant? Wouldn't it have been enough to just tell is that there is a psul of hadar that applies to the chiyuv derabbanan of taking lulav for seven days?
I haven't found anyone who explains this and I am stumped. Maybe you have a hesber?
Had you asked me, I would have said that we should say hoshanos on Pesach. That's when the farmer has just planted his crops, nothing is growing yet, and so that's the time you want to cry out, "Ana Hashem hoshi'a na, Ana Hashem hatzlicha na." That's when you want to do nisuch hamayim = shifchi ka'mayim libeich. Sukkos is chag ha'asif, the harvest season, when the storehouse is full of grain, when you reap the fruits of a years worth of labor. Why say hoshanos now?
There is no kuntz to davening and having bitachon when you are facing need and crisis. It's the guy who needs parnasa, who needs refu'ah, who needs help for his children and family, who is davening a 10 minute shmoneh esrei in shul. The guy who mumbles the words in 3 minutes so he can race out the door to drive to a well paying job in a fancy car and come home to a house in order with everyone in good health and happy is davening a different davening (of course, if he took a moment he might realize that even if he has no needs, he could put in a good word for his friend). What Sukkos comes to teach us is that even that second guy should be davening that 10 minute shmoneh esrei. Even when times are good, you have to thank Hashem for what you have and recognize that its all from him and that you are completely dependent upon him. That's why davka now, when the storehouse is full, when the harvest is finished, we say hoshanos, we pour our hearts out in tefilah. Bitachon and dveikus is not just for when we are lacking, but its even for when we have it all. "V'ha'boteiach ba'Hashem chessed y'sovivenu. (Tehillim 32:69) Bitachon, says the Sefas Emes (5645), is the midah of sukkos, which surrounds us and envelops us within.
Chazal argue whether sukkah is a diras keva or a diras arayei, a permanent structure or a temporary dwelling, and we pasken like the latter, majority view. It takes a lot of bitachon to put aside your home, your life, and go live in a tent like a nomad, with nothing. That's the level of bitachon sukkos is all about. For big tzadikim, this is a diras keva, this is the way they live all year. For me, for most of us probably, this is a diras arayei, a temporary moment. We all know that after a week we will be back inside, back to work, back to the same grind. We can't meditate on this idea of bitachon and live with it for awhile, but we will come back to earth, right? After walking away from his encounter with Eisav unharmed, Ya'akov builds for himself a bayis -- that new level is where he would be at from now on. But for his possessions and his flocks, he made sukkos, little temporary huts. The Torah tells us that he named the place he was at not bayis, but Sukkot -- that was what he thought was most important. The big tzadikim of course are on a high level all year -- that's what we expect. What Ya'akov thought was more significant, more of an accomplishment, is that everything else, everyone else, can at least step into that mode for a short while, for a temporary visit. "Yafeh sha'ah achas b'teshuva u'ma'asim tovim b'olam ha'zeh." Even if it's only for a week, that week can still make a difference.
V'lakachtem lachem -- you have to take yourself. The gemara darshens on "v'lakachtem lachem" that "md'agbihei nafik bei," that you just need to lift up the lulav and you are yotzei. We need to take ourselves and lift ourselves up. Even for one week, even temporarily. The effect can last a whole year.
Rashi explains why a dry lulav is pasul for all 7 days:
בשלמא יבש. פסול בדרבנן נמי כיון דמצוה הוא משום זכר למקדש בעינן הדור מצוה
Why does Rashi need to mention in this context that the taking of lulav all seven days is a zecher l'mikdash? Why is that relevant? Wouldn't it have been enough to just tell is that there is a psul of hadar that applies to the chiyuv derabbanan of taking lulav for seven days?
I haven't found anyone who explains this and I am stumped. Maybe you have a hesber?
Had you asked me, I would have said that we should say hoshanos on Pesach. That's when the farmer has just planted his crops, nothing is growing yet, and so that's the time you want to cry out, "Ana Hashem hoshi'a na, Ana Hashem hatzlicha na." That's when you want to do nisuch hamayim = shifchi ka'mayim libeich. Sukkos is chag ha'asif, the harvest season, when the storehouse is full of grain, when you reap the fruits of a years worth of labor. Why say hoshanos now?
There is no kuntz to davening and having bitachon when you are facing need and crisis. It's the guy who needs parnasa, who needs refu'ah, who needs help for his children and family, who is davening a 10 minute shmoneh esrei in shul. The guy who mumbles the words in 3 minutes so he can race out the door to drive to a well paying job in a fancy car and come home to a house in order with everyone in good health and happy is davening a different davening (of course, if he took a moment he might realize that even if he has no needs, he could put in a good word for his friend). What Sukkos comes to teach us is that even that second guy should be davening that 10 minute shmoneh esrei. Even when times are good, you have to thank Hashem for what you have and recognize that its all from him and that you are completely dependent upon him. That's why davka now, when the storehouse is full, when the harvest is finished, we say hoshanos, we pour our hearts out in tefilah. Bitachon and dveikus is not just for when we are lacking, but its even for when we have it all. "V'ha'boteiach ba'Hashem chessed y'sovivenu. (Tehillim 32:69) Bitachon, says the Sefas Emes (5645), is the midah of sukkos, which surrounds us and envelops us within.
Chazal argue whether sukkah is a diras keva or a diras arayei, a permanent structure or a temporary dwelling, and we pasken like the latter, majority view. It takes a lot of bitachon to put aside your home, your life, and go live in a tent like a nomad, with nothing. That's the level of bitachon sukkos is all about. For big tzadikim, this is a diras keva, this is the way they live all year. For me, for most of us probably, this is a diras arayei, a temporary moment. We all know that after a week we will be back inside, back to work, back to the same grind. We can't meditate on this idea of bitachon and live with it for awhile, but we will come back to earth, right? After walking away from his encounter with Eisav unharmed, Ya'akov builds for himself a bayis -- that new level is where he would be at from now on. But for his possessions and his flocks, he made sukkos, little temporary huts. The Torah tells us that he named the place he was at not bayis, but Sukkot -- that was what he thought was most important. The big tzadikim of course are on a high level all year -- that's what we expect. What Ya'akov thought was more significant, more of an accomplishment, is that everything else, everyone else, can at least step into that mode for a short while, for a temporary visit. "Yafeh sha'ah achas b'teshuva u'ma'asim tovim b'olam ha'zeh." Even if it's only for a week, that week can still make a difference.
V'lakachtem lachem -- you have to take yourself. The gemara darshens on "v'lakachtem lachem" that "md'agbihei nafik bei," that you just need to lift up the lulav and you are yotzei. We need to take ourselves and lift ourselves up. Even for one week, even temporarily. The effect can last a whole year.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
ya'arof ka'matar likchi
“Ya’arof ka’matar likchi” – Chazal darshen from the word “ya’arof” that Torah is mechapeir even on murder, just like eglah arufah. The kapparah of Torah goes above and beyond what can be accomplished by tefilah, by korbanos, but anything else. How does that work? The gemara (Sukkah 42) darshens “u’lekachtem lachem” that the mitzvah of netilas lulav is accomplished by picking up the lulav. Torah, says the Shem m’Shmuel, is called “likchi.” It picks a person up. Other means of kapparah work by trying to push away and eliminate the contamination of aveiros, like trying to clean the dirty stains off one’s garments. The kapparah of Torah is like picking onself up and out of those old garments and putting on something completely new and unsoiled.
“K’se’irim aley desheh v’k’revivim alei eisev” – “Se’irim” is a storm; "revivim" is the morning dew. Rashi says “desheh” refers to vegetation as a whole; “eisev” is the individual blade of grass. It’s not the same Torah, the same “likchi,” for everyone. For some people, Torah is like a hurricane. Other people can’t take that. They need Torah to fall gently, like the morning dew. There is the Torah that applies to the “desheh,” the community, and there is the Torah of each “eisev,” each blade of grass with its own needs.
How is the Torah like dew? R’ Simcha Bunim m’Peshischa explained that when the dew falls, it has no noticeable effect on the plant. It’s only later, after time, that its effect is felt. You can't open a sefer and expect a magic transformation to occur. It takes time, but the growth will happen.
Final point -- a question: Ramban writes that Parshas Ha'azinu speaks of ultimate redemption with no conditions, no prequalifications -- it's going to happen, take it to the bank. Yet the gemara (Sanhedrin 96) quotes R' Eliezer's view that geulah will happen only if Klal Yisrael does teshuvah. R' Yehoshua disagrees only to the extent that he holds teshuvah itself is inevitable. If Klal Yisrael doesn't do teshuvah of our own accord, then Hashem will cause us to be subjected to the decrees of an evil kingObama and that motivate us to do teshuvah. Either way, it seems teshuvah is a prerequisite for geulah. How does this fit with the Ramban?
“K’se’irim aley desheh v’k’revivim alei eisev” – “Se’irim” is a storm; "revivim" is the morning dew. Rashi says “desheh” refers to vegetation as a whole; “eisev” is the individual blade of grass. It’s not the same Torah, the same “likchi,” for everyone. For some people, Torah is like a hurricane. Other people can’t take that. They need Torah to fall gently, like the morning dew. There is the Torah that applies to the “desheh,” the community, and there is the Torah of each “eisev,” each blade of grass with its own needs.
How is the Torah like dew? R’ Simcha Bunim m’Peshischa explained that when the dew falls, it has no noticeable effect on the plant. It’s only later, after time, that its effect is felt. You can't open a sefer and expect a magic transformation to occur. It takes time, but the growth will happen.
Final point -- a question: Ramban writes that Parshas Ha'azinu speaks of ultimate redemption with no conditions, no prequalifications -- it's going to happen, take it to the bank. Yet the gemara (Sanhedrin 96) quotes R' Eliezer's view that geulah will happen only if Klal Yisrael does teshuvah. R' Yehoshua disagrees only to the extent that he holds teshuvah itself is inevitable. If Klal Yisrael doesn't do teshuvah of our own accord, then Hashem will cause us to be subjected to the decrees of an evil king
Monday, October 10, 2016
chatzi shiur and a fishy Midrash
First a quick halachic point and then an amazing Chasam Sofer on a Midrash:
1) The 618:8 the Biur Halacha sneaks in a chiddush. Let’s say a person is c"v so sick on Y”K that he is allowed to eat even a full shiur, meaning a k’koseves within a k’dei achilas pras. He sits down with a full plate of food and starts to eat, and feels a little better. Now, says the M”B, he has to be careful. If he becomes well enough that he can space his eating out and get away with eating only a chatzi shiur, and he then continues and eats a full shiur, he would be chayav kareis.
In other words: if a person ate a chatzi shiur b’heter (he is still sick and allowed that) and a chatzi shiur b’issur (the amount in excess of the chatzi shiur that he had no right to eat), he is chayav kareis.
Why should that be true? Why not say that since the person ate only a chatzi shiur b’issur, there should be no kareis?
Shu”T Binyan Shlomo 41 raises this as a safeik. It’s an interesting chiddush that there are a few ways to explain, so you can ponder it over the next two days : )
2) The Midrash (Braishis 11:4, quoted in Tos Kesubos 5a and by the Tur in Hil Y”K) tells the story of a tailor who erev Y”K went to the fish market to buy a nice fish to eat (who says the seudah ha’mafsekes has to be chicken?) l’kavod yom tov. At the same time, one of the servants of the local nobleman also came shopping for fish for his master. Unfortunately, there was only one fish left. A bidding war ensued, until finally the servant gave up and balked at paying an inflated price for a single fish. He returned to his master empty handed. The master was angry and demanded to know who this was who was willing to spend such a fortune to get that fish. Forced to appear before the nobleman and explain himself, the tailor related that the day of Yom Kippur was coming and all our sins are forgiven; therefore, it was only appropriate for him to do his best to honor the day with that fish. The tailor was allowed to go home in peace. When he cut open the fish, he found in it a precious stone as a reward from Hashem.
What difference does it make if it was a tailor, a baker, or a candlestick maker who this story happened to? And what’s the big deal about having a fish? Couldn’t the tailor have had something else to eat?
Explains the Chasam Sofer (p. 70 in the Derashos): You look around Klal Yisrael and there are communities torn apart; there are families torn apart; there are people torn apart. We need “tailors” to sew the pieces together and make us whole. That's who the Midrash is speaking about.
A fish never closes its eyes. It is the symbol of Hashem's "eina pikcha" looking down and watching out for us. The way to merit that is by creating peace and harmony, by looking at each other favorably, lovingly, in a caring way. If we do that, Hashem in turn will look down at us in the same manner. The fish the "tailor" was after for Yom Kippur was that "eina pikcha" of Hashem's loving gaze, brought about by the love between Jews.
The gemara (Sanhedrin 98) writes that before Mashiach comes there will be a time when a sick person will need a little fish to be cured and none will be found. There will come a time when the "eina pikcha" of Hashem is needed so desperately to make us better, but because of the way we look at each other, that fish is going to be really hard to find.
“Eyn Hashem el yrei’av.” The pshat is that the pasuk is speaking about how Hashem looks at us, but the Chasam Sofer explains it as follows: We, the yirei Hashem (at least I hope we are), should be blessed with the "eyn Hashem," with G-d's eyes, kavyachol. We should see only the good in others. We should see their needs and troubles so that we can help. We should look beyond superficial nonsense that creates differences and see what really matters.
That's the way a "tailor" sees things. If we learn to see things that way we too will merit a wonderful "fish" for our Yom Kippur.
Gmar chasima tovah!
1) The 618:8 the Biur Halacha sneaks in a chiddush. Let’s say a person is c"v so sick on Y”K that he is allowed to eat even a full shiur, meaning a k’koseves within a k’dei achilas pras. He sits down with a full plate of food and starts to eat, and feels a little better. Now, says the M”B, he has to be careful. If he becomes well enough that he can space his eating out and get away with eating only a chatzi shiur, and he then continues and eats a full shiur, he would be chayav kareis.
In other words: if a person ate a chatzi shiur b’heter (he is still sick and allowed that) and a chatzi shiur b’issur (the amount in excess of the chatzi shiur that he had no right to eat), he is chayav kareis.
Why should that be true? Why not say that since the person ate only a chatzi shiur b’issur, there should be no kareis?
Shu”T Binyan Shlomo 41 raises this as a safeik. It’s an interesting chiddush that there are a few ways to explain, so you can ponder it over the next two days : )
2) The Midrash (Braishis 11:4, quoted in Tos Kesubos 5a and by the Tur in Hil Y”K) tells the story of a tailor who erev Y”K went to the fish market to buy a nice fish to eat (who says the seudah ha’mafsekes has to be chicken?) l’kavod yom tov. At the same time, one of the servants of the local nobleman also came shopping for fish for his master. Unfortunately, there was only one fish left. A bidding war ensued, until finally the servant gave up and balked at paying an inflated price for a single fish. He returned to his master empty handed. The master was angry and demanded to know who this was who was willing to spend such a fortune to get that fish. Forced to appear before the nobleman and explain himself, the tailor related that the day of Yom Kippur was coming and all our sins are forgiven; therefore, it was only appropriate for him to do his best to honor the day with that fish. The tailor was allowed to go home in peace. When he cut open the fish, he found in it a precious stone as a reward from Hashem.
What difference does it make if it was a tailor, a baker, or a candlestick maker who this story happened to? And what’s the big deal about having a fish? Couldn’t the tailor have had something else to eat?
Explains the Chasam Sofer (p. 70 in the Derashos): You look around Klal Yisrael and there are communities torn apart; there are families torn apart; there are people torn apart. We need “tailors” to sew the pieces together and make us whole. That's who the Midrash is speaking about.
A fish never closes its eyes. It is the symbol of Hashem's "eina pikcha" looking down and watching out for us. The way to merit that is by creating peace and harmony, by looking at each other favorably, lovingly, in a caring way. If we do that, Hashem in turn will look down at us in the same manner. The fish the "tailor" was after for Yom Kippur was that "eina pikcha" of Hashem's loving gaze, brought about by the love between Jews.
The gemara (Sanhedrin 98) writes that before Mashiach comes there will be a time when a sick person will need a little fish to be cured and none will be found. There will come a time when the "eina pikcha" of Hashem is needed so desperately to make us better, but because of the way we look at each other, that fish is going to be really hard to find.
“Eyn Hashem el yrei’av.” The pshat is that the pasuk is speaking about how Hashem looks at us, but the Chasam Sofer explains it as follows: We, the yirei Hashem (at least I hope we are), should be blessed with the "eyn Hashem," with G-d's eyes, kavyachol. We should see only the good in others. We should see their needs and troubles so that we can help. We should look beyond superficial nonsense that creates differences and see what really matters.
That's the way a "tailor" sees things. If we learn to see things that way we too will merit a wonderful "fish" for our Yom Kippur.
Gmar chasima tovah!
Thursday, October 06, 2016
why no shirah on Rosh haShana
1. R’ Abahu tells us that the malachim in shamayim ask why it is that Bnei Yisrael do not say shirah [i.e. hallel] on Rosh haShana and Yom Kippur. Hashem answers that it is impossible for Bnei Yisrael to do so when the books of life and death are open and their fate hangs in the balance.
Don’t the malachim also know that the sifrei chaim v’meisim are open? Don’t we say in nesaneh tokef that even the malachim tremble in fear knowing that these are days of din?
My son quoted one of the Telzer Roshei Yeshiva as explaining that the malachim are afraid as well, but they view that fear as an unwelcome distraction. The motivation for their avodah comes from the pure intellectual knowledge that Hashem’s din is only l’tovah no matter what comes out. That's all that counts.
Hashem’s response is that the avodah he desires is not just avodah of the intellect, but avodah of the lev and emotion as well. Hashem wants to be served by feeling people, not just abstracted minds. Captain Kirk is the hero and Spock is the sidekick, not the other way around. If achieving that goal means sacrificing shirah because we are too consumed by the emotion of fear to give voice to it, it is a worthwhile sacrifice.
I wanted to explain the gemara based on an idea from R’ Yosef Engel we discussed a few months ago. The gemara says that David haMelech was criticized for saying, “Zmiros hayu li chukecha,” for comparing words of Torah to a zemer, a song. Why is that such a bad thing when our parsha tells us “Kisvu lachem es ha’shirah ha’zos” and calls Torah a shirah?
R' Yosef Engel distinguishes between the concept of zemer and the concept of shirah. Zemer is like the word zomer=pruning. It’s a means of clearing away that which is unneeded and that which inhibits growth. Torah of course helps clear away the bad midos, aveiros, and wrong thinking that prevents a person from turning into a ben Torah, but Torah is also much more than that – Torah itself is the energy that creates and inspires growth. Torah is a shirah, not just a zemer.
“Zamru l’Elokim zameiru…” The word “zemer” repeats itself multiple times in the perek of tehillim we recite before tekiyas shofar. R’ Levi Yitzchak m’Berdichev in his Kedushas Levi explains that on R”H and Y”K our avodah is one of zmirah, of pruning. We want to chop off any influence the midas ha’din may have and elevate the midas ha’rachamim.
The malachim were wondering what happened to “kisvu lachem es ha’shirah ha’zos,” our avodah of shirah. Hashem answered that on R”H and Y”K our avodah is “zamru l’Elokim zameiru.” Because the sifrei chaim and meisim are opened, our focus narrows to eliminating the danger of din more than on shirah.
2. On Rosh haShana man was created, and almost immediately he sinned and was expelled from Gan Eden. Why was he kicked out? The Torah explains, “V’atah pen yishlach YADO v’achal mei’eitz hachaim.” The Midrash comments, “Ain v’atah eleh lashon teshuvah.” Adam haRishon had a path back to his former state, a path of get to the eitz chaim through teshuvah. Adds the Sefas Emes, YADO = yud = 10. These are the 10 days of teshuvah which we find ourselves in.
“Vayishlach Avraham es yado va’yikach es ha’ma’acheles.” “Yishlach es yado” is completely extraneous. (I think the Kotzker explained that every muscle of Avraham’s being could not act contrary to ratzon Hashem. Hashem’s will, which Avraham did not know yet, was for Yitzchak to not be offered as a korban. Therefore, Avraham had to make an effort to extend his hand – “vayishlach es yado” – because it didn’t want to obey.) Here too, explains the Sefas Emes, YADO = the 10 days of teshuvah. Avraham had to rise above the natural rachmanus which a father has for a son. He had to escape the world of teva and grab onto the eitz chaim. That is the path of teshuvah, which forces a person to rise above his/her natural inclinations and reach for something which is higher and greater.
Don’t the malachim also know that the sifrei chaim v’meisim are open? Don’t we say in nesaneh tokef that even the malachim tremble in fear knowing that these are days of din?
My son quoted one of the Telzer Roshei Yeshiva as explaining that the malachim are afraid as well, but they view that fear as an unwelcome distraction. The motivation for their avodah comes from the pure intellectual knowledge that Hashem’s din is only l’tovah no matter what comes out. That's all that counts.
Hashem’s response is that the avodah he desires is not just avodah of the intellect, but avodah of the lev and emotion as well. Hashem wants to be served by feeling people, not just abstracted minds. Captain Kirk is the hero and Spock is the sidekick, not the other way around. If achieving that goal means sacrificing shirah because we are too consumed by the emotion of fear to give voice to it, it is a worthwhile sacrifice.
I wanted to explain the gemara based on an idea from R’ Yosef Engel we discussed a few months ago. The gemara says that David haMelech was criticized for saying, “Zmiros hayu li chukecha,” for comparing words of Torah to a zemer, a song. Why is that such a bad thing when our parsha tells us “Kisvu lachem es ha’shirah ha’zos” and calls Torah a shirah?
R' Yosef Engel distinguishes between the concept of zemer and the concept of shirah. Zemer is like the word zomer=pruning. It’s a means of clearing away that which is unneeded and that which inhibits growth. Torah of course helps clear away the bad midos, aveiros, and wrong thinking that prevents a person from turning into a ben Torah, but Torah is also much more than that – Torah itself is the energy that creates and inspires growth. Torah is a shirah, not just a zemer.
“Zamru l’Elokim zameiru…” The word “zemer” repeats itself multiple times in the perek of tehillim we recite before tekiyas shofar. R’ Levi Yitzchak m’Berdichev in his Kedushas Levi explains that on R”H and Y”K our avodah is one of zmirah, of pruning. We want to chop off any influence the midas ha’din may have and elevate the midas ha’rachamim.
The malachim were wondering what happened to “kisvu lachem es ha’shirah ha’zos,” our avodah of shirah. Hashem answered that on R”H and Y”K our avodah is “zamru l’Elokim zameiru.” Because the sifrei chaim and meisim are opened, our focus narrows to eliminating the danger of din more than on shirah.
2. On Rosh haShana man was created, and almost immediately he sinned and was expelled from Gan Eden. Why was he kicked out? The Torah explains, “V’atah pen yishlach YADO v’achal mei’eitz hachaim.” The Midrash comments, “Ain v’atah eleh lashon teshuvah.” Adam haRishon had a path back to his former state, a path of get to the eitz chaim through teshuvah. Adds the Sefas Emes, YADO = yud = 10. These are the 10 days of teshuvah which we find ourselves in.
“Vayishlach Avraham es yado va’yikach es ha’ma’acheles.” “Yishlach es yado” is completely extraneous. (I think the Kotzker explained that every muscle of Avraham’s being could not act contrary to ratzon Hashem. Hashem’s will, which Avraham did not know yet, was for Yitzchak to not be offered as a korban. Therefore, Avraham had to make an effort to extend his hand – “vayishlach es yado” – because it didn’t want to obey.) Here too, explains the Sefas Emes, YADO = the 10 days of teshuvah. Avraham had to rise above the natural rachmanus which a father has for a son. He had to escape the world of teva and grab onto the eitz chaim. That is the path of teshuvah, which forces a person to rise above his/her natural inclinations and reach for something which is higher and greater.
Saturday, October 01, 2016
why not go for broke?
A question to think about:
The gemara (Baba Basra 147) writes that if the first day of Rosh haShana is hot, it means it will be a warm year. If it is cold, it means the year will be a cold year (sounds just like Farmer’s Almanac). The gemara asks, “L’mau nafka minah?” What difference does it make? The gemara I guess did not have a heating oil futures market to invest in, so the gemara says the nafka minah is for the tefilah of the kohen gadol on Yom Kippur.
Rashbam and Tosfos explain as follows: if it’s going to be a hot year, then the kohen gadol should daven for it to be not so hot; if it’s going to be a cold year, he should daven for it to be not so cold.
I don't understand. Why not go for broke and ask for more? I was reading a book recently and one of the characters is always telling his friend his wishes, like he wishes to be paid decently for his work that day so he can take off the next day. His friend in turn always wonders why if he is wishing, he doesn't just wish for more -- why not wish for enough money that you don't have to work at all? There's no limit on wishes. I am bothered by the same thing here. You can ask Hashem for anything. Why accept that it’s going to be a hot year and just Hashem to make it a little less hot, or vica versa, when you can ask Hashem to make it seasonable, or whatever temperature you want?
Whatever the answer to that is, one other point about tefilah: I saw R' Chaim Kanievsky quotes from the Chazon Ish that even though normally on Shabbos or Y"T one cannot make personal bakashos in tefilah, Rosh haShana is an exception. I don't know the makor for such a din, but apparently the Chazon Ish said it. So IY"H we should all daven for whatever we need (and the first thing to daven for I guess is that we have the brains to realize what we really need) and hopefully your tefilos and my tefilos will make a difference and we will all have a kesiva v'chasima tovah.
The gemara (Baba Basra 147) writes that if the first day of Rosh haShana is hot, it means it will be a warm year. If it is cold, it means the year will be a cold year (sounds just like Farmer’s Almanac). The gemara asks, “L’mau nafka minah?” What difference does it make? The gemara I guess did not have a heating oil futures market to invest in, so the gemara says the nafka minah is for the tefilah of the kohen gadol on Yom Kippur.
Rashbam and Tosfos explain as follows: if it’s going to be a hot year, then the kohen gadol should daven for it to be not so hot; if it’s going to be a cold year, he should daven for it to be not so cold.
I don't understand. Why not go for broke and ask for more? I was reading a book recently and one of the characters is always telling his friend his wishes, like he wishes to be paid decently for his work that day so he can take off the next day. His friend in turn always wonders why if he is wishing, he doesn't just wish for more -- why not wish for enough money that you don't have to work at all? There's no limit on wishes. I am bothered by the same thing here. You can ask Hashem for anything. Why accept that it’s going to be a hot year and just Hashem to make it a little less hot, or vica versa, when you can ask Hashem to make it seasonable, or whatever temperature you want?
Whatever the answer to that is, one other point about tefilah: I saw R' Chaim Kanievsky quotes from the Chazon Ish that even though normally on Shabbos or Y"T one cannot make personal bakashos in tefilah, Rosh haShana is an exception. I don't know the makor for such a din, but apparently the Chazon Ish said it. So IY"H we should all daven for whatever we need (and the first thing to daven for I guess is that we have the brains to realize what we really need) and hopefully your tefilos and my tefilos will make a difference and we will all have a kesiva v'chasima tovah.
a mistake in blowing the kolos -- the chumra of the Chayei Adam
I’ve covered the machlokes Rashi and Tos on the shiur of tekiyos before, but want to revisit it because of an interesting Chayei Adam I noticed this year. The Mishna tells us that the length of a teruah is 3 yebavos. Rashi understands this to mean that the total length of a teruah is three very short tu sounds = 3 beats. Tosfos holds that the length of a teruah is three blasts of 3 yebavos = 9 beats.
The gemara writes that the length of a tekiya = that of a teruah. Therefore, according to Rashi a teruah must be at least 3 beats long; according to Tosfos it has to be 9 beats.
Tosfos points out that according to Rashi, each of the shevarim has to be less than 3 beats long. If not, the shever turns into a tekiya. Therefore, according to Rashi you have to blow 3 shevarim of no more than 2 beats each = 6 beats in total. According to Tosfos, you would not be not yotzei with this, since the minimum lenth of a tekiya, a teruah, or the shevarim = 9 beats.
R’ Soloveitchik came up with a solution to be yotzei both deyos: blow 5 shevarim of 2 beats each. Each shever will be less than 3 beats, fulfilling Rashi’s view, but the total will be 10 beats, fulfilling Tosfos’ requirement.
The minhag is to follow Tosfos’ view, but it’s still important to be aware of shitas Rashi because of a chiddush the Chayei Adam (141:12) quotes l’halacha which some poskim (e.g. R’ Elyashiv) take seriously. The halacha (in a nutshell) is that making a mistake blowing a totally pasul non-kol works out better than making a mistake blowing the wrong kol. If the ba’al tokea, for example, blows a tekiya and then blows a sound that is totally pasul, he can just blow the correct note and move on. However, if the ba’al tokea is supposed to blow teruah but instead starts to blow shevarim, even if he realizes his mistake and stops, he already blew it (sorry, I could not resist) and has to start again from the initial tekiya.
Says the Chayei Adam: since according to Rashi a one beat sound (not a 3 beat sound like Tos holds) is the first note of teruah, even a small toot of the shofar done in error is in reality a partial teruah. It’s a valid kol done in the wrong place, not just a bad pasul non-kol. Therefore, to correct the mistake the ba’al tokeah has to go back to the start of the set and blow the tekiya again.
You could argue (as other poskim do) that a kol blown without any intention to be a teruah is not a teruah at all – it’s just a mistake. The Chayei Adam, however, disagrees.
The gemara writes that the length of a tekiya = that of a teruah. Therefore, according to Rashi a teruah must be at least 3 beats long; according to Tosfos it has to be 9 beats.
Tosfos points out that according to Rashi, each of the shevarim has to be less than 3 beats long. If not, the shever turns into a tekiya. Therefore, according to Rashi you have to blow 3 shevarim of no more than 2 beats each = 6 beats in total. According to Tosfos, you would not be not yotzei with this, since the minimum lenth of a tekiya, a teruah, or the shevarim = 9 beats.
R’ Soloveitchik came up with a solution to be yotzei both deyos: blow 5 shevarim of 2 beats each. Each shever will be less than 3 beats, fulfilling Rashi’s view, but the total will be 10 beats, fulfilling Tosfos’ requirement.
The minhag is to follow Tosfos’ view, but it’s still important to be aware of shitas Rashi because of a chiddush the Chayei Adam (141:12) quotes l’halacha which some poskim (e.g. R’ Elyashiv) take seriously. The halacha (in a nutshell) is that making a mistake blowing a totally pasul non-kol works out better than making a mistake blowing the wrong kol. If the ba’al tokea, for example, blows a tekiya and then blows a sound that is totally pasul, he can just blow the correct note and move on. However, if the ba’al tokea is supposed to blow teruah but instead starts to blow shevarim, even if he realizes his mistake and stops, he already blew it (sorry, I could not resist) and has to start again from the initial tekiya.
Says the Chayei Adam: since according to Rashi a one beat sound (not a 3 beat sound like Tos holds) is the first note of teruah, even a small toot of the shofar done in error is in reality a partial teruah. It’s a valid kol done in the wrong place, not just a bad pasul non-kol. Therefore, to correct the mistake the ba’al tokeah has to go back to the start of the set and blow the tekiya again.
You could argue (as other poskim do) that a kol blown without any intention to be a teruah is not a teruah at all – it’s just a mistake. The Chayei Adam, however, disagrees.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
