a mitzvah done without effort is not the same mitzvah as one done with effort

1) Rashi tells us that Hashem brought the sun out in full force so that Avraham would not be troubled with the burden of entertaining guests while recovering from his bris milah.  Avraham, however, would not be dissuaded from doing his usual hachnasas orchim and went out “’kchom hayom,” in the middle of the hot day, to look for guests.  Since Avraham would not give up, Hashem sent him the three angels as guests. 

 

The meforshei Rashi ask: why did Hashem have to summon angels to appear as guests?  Why didn’t he just remove the heat wave and then the usual parade of guests would have arrived on their own? 

 

I saw a great answer:once the sun was out in full force, the mitzvah that Avraham set out to do was the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim in the face of difficulty, with tremendous tircha and effort.  Had Hashem just lowered the temperature and taken away the heat wave, the mitzvah would have been easier, but an easier mitzvah is a different mitzvah entirely -- it would no longer be the same kiyum Avraham set out to accomplish.

 

2) Chazal learn from the fact Avraham and Sarah were blessed with the birth of Yitzchak right after they davened for Avimelech that a person in need who davens on behalf of someone else will have their own needs taken care of by Hashem. It seems from this Chazal that there is a cause/effect at work -- Avraham and Sarah’s tefilos for Avimlech caused Yitzchak (indirectly) to be born.  Yet we know from the opening of our parsha that Hashem had promised Avraham and Sarah that they would have a son and Hashem even specified the date on which he would be born.  Yitzchak's birth doesn't seem to have anything to do with the tefilos for Avimelech? 

 

The Ohr haChaim answers that even when Hashem makes a promise, it doesn’t mean the recipient is free to just sit back and relax and do nothing.  Rewards and zechuyos have to be earned.  What Hashem’s promise accomplished is that just at the right time for Yitzchak to be born, Avraham and Sarah were presented with the tremendous opportunity to daven on behalf of Avimelech and through that to be zocheh to the child that they wanted. 

 

There is no such thing as a free gift.  What Hashem gives for free is the opportunity to earn the rewards desired.

 

not just a matter of perspective

The gemara (B.M. 86) writes that when Avraham saw that he had no guests, he sent Eliezer out to look for some, but Eliezer came back emptyhanded.  “There is no trust in slaves,” said Avraham, and he went and sat by the doorway to look for himself.  We know the rest of the story – Avraham sees the three angels approaching, etc. 

Did Avraham think Eliezer was not telling the truth, or was being lazy?  On Parshas Noach I quoted the Oheiv Yisrael who teaches that emunah transforms reality – if one believes things will work out, then they will.  Avraham was not saying that he did not trust Eliezer.  What he was saying is that Eliezer lacks the same level of trust, of bitachon, that he, Avraham, has.  Therefore, although Eliezer went looking for guests, he failed to find what he was looking for.  Avraham had greater faith in the mitzvah, and so when he went looking, he found what he wanted (Sifsei Tzadik). 
 
Two people can experience the same situation and one will be filled with hope while the other sees only gloom.  Eliezer saw an empty desert; Avraham saw angels walking by.  It's not just a psychological trick.  The reality changes according to the amount of bitachon invested.

Before we get to the arrival of the angels, Avraham was busy “entertaining” G-d himself – “Vayeira eilav Hashem...” Rashbam learns al pi peshuto that these are not two episodes, but one: the appearance of G-d to Avraham was manifest through the arrival of the angels.  Rashi, Ramban, Seforno, and Chazal interpret these as separate ideas.  Chazal learn that Avraham turned away from interacting with G-d and concerned himself with his guests, proving that the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim is even greater than interacting with the Shechina.  (How can that be?  R’ Naftali Ropshitz quoted in Imrei Shefer cleverly reads the letter “mem” in the statement “gedolah hachnasas orchim M’kabalas pnei haShechina” not as “greater than,” but as “from.”  From the experience of giluy Shechina Avraham grew in his hislahavus to do more mitzvos, to do more hachnasas orchim. See Netziv for a hesber with less twist.)  The Torah doesn’t tell us why Hashem appeared and doesn’t tell us anything that was said to Avraham during this encounter.  Rashi writes that nothing needed to be said; Hashem came to do bikur cholim and just being there was enough.  Seforno explains that Hashem appeared in response to Avraham’s having done bris milah.  Bris means covenant, and you can’t make a covenant without both parties being present.  Hashem therefore appeared to seal the agreement.  In Parshas Shmos where we read that Moshe arrived at an inn and, “vayifgasheihu Hashem,” it does not mean, as  Rashi there tells us, that an angel came to punish Moshe, but rather G-d was appearing to ratify the bris that would be made when Moshe circumcised his son.  This is why, adds Seforno, we set out an extra chair whenever a baby enters the covenant of bris milah – we are welcoming the presence of the Shechina as our partner in the bris.  A fantastic makor for the minhag of Klal Yisrael.

What perhaps motivated the Seforno’s comment, or at least implicit in his comment, is an answer to the Mizrachi’s question.  Why are Rashi and other mefoshim convinced that “Vayeira eilav Hashem…” should be connected with the previous parsha of milah?  Maybe, asks Mizrachi, it is connected with the upcoming parsha, where Hashem informs Avraham that he will be destroying Sdom?  Given Chazal’s interpretation that Avraham’s meeting with Hashem was interrupted by the arrival of the angelic guests, maybe what happened is that Hashem appeared and was about to start that conversation about Sdom, but Avraham broke off the engagement and began serving his guests.  Once he was done, Hashem picked up where they left off. 

The answer in one word, according to Seforno, is bris.  It takes two to tango.  Hashem’s appearance must be connected with milah because a bris demands that both parties be engaged.  Since there is no record on the previous parsha of Hashem doing anything in response to the bris, this must be it.

Ramban (and Gur Aryeh suggests this as well) suggests a different answer based on a simple rule of grammar: a pronoun always needs an antecedent.  You can’t say, “He went to the store” without first telling me who the “he” you are talking about is.  If the sentence, “Vayeira eilav Hashem,” is meant as the start of a new topic, then the antecedent for “eilav” is missing -- it should say, “Vayeira Hashem el Avraham.”  The sentence makes sense only because we know who “eilav” is because we read it as a continuation of the previous parsha.

All this is background/warmup to the Midrash’s take on the parsha that will tie everything together:

ואחר עורי נקפו זאת ומבשרי אחזה אלוה
אמר אברהם: אחר שמלתי עצמי, הרבה גרים באו להדבק בזאת הברית.
ומבשרי אחזה אלוה, אילולי שעשיתי כן, מהיכן היה הקדוש ברוך הוא נגלה עלי?!
וירא אליו ה'.

Avraham said, “If not for my bris milah, how would Hashem have appeared to me?”  Again, we see Chazal connecting “vayeira…” to the previous parsha by way of cause and effect: Avraham did a milah, therefore, G-d can now reveal himself.  If you remember the beginning of last week's parsha you will be scratching you head over this.  We read last week, “Vayeira Hashem el Avram…” (12:7).  Hashem did appear to Avra[ha]m long before he had a bris milah.  “Vayeira” is not a chiddush due to the bris, but is old news.   

The Sefas Emes answers that there is a big difference between “vayeira” before milah and the “vayeira” after milah. The “vayeira” before the milah is “vayeirah HASHEM el Avraham” – Hashem is the actor, the subject who is the focus of the sentence, the one who intercedes and appears in Avraham’s life.  Ramban gives a long list of similar places where Hashem appears on the scene to bless Bnei Yisrael (Vayikra 9:23) or to stop a rebellion (Bamidbar 14:10).  If we were staging these events as a play, the spotlight would shift to kavyachol a new character, G-d, stepping onto the stage.  The “vayeira” after the milah inverts things.  “Vayeirah EILAV Hashem” – the focus is Avraham himself, the same character we’ve been talking about until now.  The text focuses our attention on the point grammatically by using a pronoun whose antecedent is in last weeks’ parsha -- the spotlight doesn’t shift; no one new steps onto the stage; it’s the same cast as last week.  So what changes?  It’s Avraham’s perception that changes.  Hashem’s presence, which last week had been invisible to Avraham the not-yet-nimol, is suddenly visible to him everywhere. It is not G-d stepping onto the stage that is the chiddush here; it's Avraham perceiving G-d who was already there beforehand. 
 
So we've come full circle.  Just like Avraham can see angels where Eliezer sees an empty desert, Avraham after the bris can now see, “vayeira eilav,” and the world is very different than it looked before.

burning buildings and Avraham's questions

My week was particularly hectic, but I feel bad leaving the blog with nothing on the parsha so I'm going to just post a question that I as of yet don't have a great answer to, and then after that, turn back to some things I wanted to post earlier on last week's parsha and never got around to doing:

The Midrash compares Avraham to someone who sees a building on fire and wonders whether the building has an owner, as no one seems to be responding to take care of things.  Avraham saw the world on fire –he saw chaos -- and he asked himself whether the world had an owner or not.  Hashem then revealed himself to Avraham and said, “I am the owner.”

The Shem m’Shmuel asks: Avraham had already recognized at age 3, or according to other views at age 48 – in either case, past history -- that Hashem is in control of the world  He had already been moseir nefesh in the furnace of Nimrod for the sake of his emunah.  Avraham is 75 years old when Parhas Lech Lecha opens.  Surely Avraham already knew and accepted that the world has an “owner,” that Hashem is in charge of everything that goes on.  How can the Midrash compare him to a person who wonders, present tense, whether that burning building has an owner or not?  

Suggestions?

Turning back to last week... 

The Midrash contrasts Noach, who went from being called an “ish tzadik” to being an “ish adamah,” with Moshe, who went from being called an “ish Mitzri” in Parhas Shmos to being “ish ha’Elokim” in Zos haBracha.  Some people grow, others slide downward – that’s obvious.  What are Chazal trying to teach us? 

Last week we spoke about the idea of comparative, relative judgment.  A person who gets a 65 on a test is borderline failing, but if everyone else gets a 45, he/she looks like a genius.  The same is true in ruchniyus as well.  Noach was called an ish tzadik because he stood out relative to everyone else in his depraved society.  Once the mabul wiped away that society, says the Ksav Sofer, here was no one else to compare Noach to, and so he became just a plain vanilla ish adamah.   Moshe, on the other hand, started life raised as an Egyptian prince, an ish Mitzri, immersed in the culture of Egyptian society.  Once you took him out of that society, he grew into an ish Elokim. 

The Midrash really gives Noach a hard time.  It takes the word “v’Noach” from the pasuk of “v’Noach matzah chein” and tacks it to the end of the previous statement, “ki nichamti ki asisi.” 

כי נחמתי כי עשיתים ונח, אפילו נח שנשתייר מהן לא היה כדאי, אלא שמצא חן בעיני ה', שנאמר: ונח מצא חן בעיני ה':

How can the Midrash so harshly criticize Noach when our parsha opens by calling Noach a “tzadik tamim?”  Again, it’s all about relative judgment.  On an absolute scale, Noach was not “k’dai;” without Hashem’s special chein, he did not deserve to be spared.  However, when judged relative to those around, “tzadik tamim haya b’dorosav.”   

One final idea:

The Midrash quotes Noach as saying that he was undeserving, as he was guilty of the same crimes as those around him.   Noach may have known himself well enough to know he was not an Avraham Avinu, but it seems extreme to say he was guilty of the same crimes as the dor hamabul!  The Shem m’Shmuel explains that the dor hamabul’s fate was sealed because of the sin of chamas.  For the dor hamabul, that meant people were thieves, plain and simple.  Yet we find another use of chamas in Parshas VaYeira.  When Sarah is upset with Avraham for not speaking out and defending her honor against the insults of Hagar, she tells Avraham, “chamasi alecha.”  This is also a form of theft.  Sarah felt Avraham was robbing her of his voice, his influence, which she felt could have changed the situation.  When Noach claimed that he too was guilty of the same crime as the dor hamabul, it is this type of theft, this chamas, that he was referring to.  Noach recognized that had he perhaps been more forceful in his protests, in his outreach, even in davening for his generation, his voice may have made a difference.  Withholding one’s talents and not using them for avodas Hashem robs the community and leaves it poorer.

 

ma'amin v'aino ma'amin -- emunah is not passive belief

Commenting on the fact that Noach only entered the ark once it started raining, Rashi writes that Noach was “m’ktanei emumah, ma’amin v’aino ma’amin.”  It sounds like Noach was straddling the fence, unsure of what would happen.  That’s a very difficult thing to say about someone who was a tzadik tamim!  So what does Rashi mean?  One of the standard answers is that Noach did not believe in himself – he trusted that G-d was going to bring the flood, but did not trust his own ability to do anything to stop it, whether through tefilah or some other means.  Some answer that Noach did not believe the midas hadin would actually overcome the midas harachamim and the punishment would come; others answers that Noach did not really believe the people in his generation would sink to such a low level as to deserve the punishment Hashem had promised (Shem m’Shmuel).  The Oheiv Yisrael has an approach that gives us a different perspective on the whole concept of emunah.  He writes that emunah does not just mean passive belief.  “Va’yehi omein es Hadassa” uses the same root as emunah, and anyone who has raised a child knows that it demands anything but passivity.  Emunah itself helps transform a belief into a reality -- to completely trust that something will happen is to help make it happen.  Therefore, Noach faced a dilemma.  On the one hand, G-d told him that there would be a flood, and that left no room in his mind for doubt that it would happen.  On the other hand, by believing that there would be a flood, Noach would in effect be having a hand in making it happen, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.  He wanted to have his cake and eat it too, “ma’amin v’aino ma’amin,” with no resolution, until the waters of the flood were upon him.

 

If believing in the flood would contribute to it becoming a reality, midah tovah merubah -- our belief in yeshuos v'nechamos can help make that a reality as well.

what did Hevel do wrong?

I have never found a good explanation as to what Hevel did wrong that elicited his being killed at the hands of Kayin.  It may be that the whole question is out of place, as a ba’al bechira has free reign to cause harm even without an overt decree against the victim (see here for a diyuk in next week's parsha to that effect and here, here, and here for more).  That answer, though, is far from satisfying. 

In the sefer “M’Shulchan R’ Eliyahu Baruch,” collected from the shiurim of R’ Eliyahu Baruch Finkel of the Mir, he notes that when Kayin was dejected and deflated by Hashem’s rejection of his korban, Hashem reacted by offering Kayin words of encouragement, demonstrating the midah of being nosei b’ol chaveiro, showing empathy for the plight of others.  This is one of the overlooked lessons of the parsha.  He then suggests an even bigger chiddush.  Hevel knew his brother was suffering, and yet Hevel said nothing and did nothing to alleviate Kayin’s pain.  Perhaps it was because of this indifference, this lack of empathy, that Hevel suffered death. 

(Of course I don't know where it says that lacking empathy means you are deserving of death.  Maybe it just means that Hevel didn't deserve any protection of hashgacha because of his moral failure.)

va'yar Elokim ki tov vs. tov l'ma'achal

1. When daughter #2 was preparing for seminary interviews last year (she is thank G-d learning in Israel this year) it was well known that a certain seminary liked to ask applicants the following question: if you could be a tree, what type of tree would you be?  I think questions like this are inane, but to play along I recommended that she answer the “eitz hada’as.”  My daughter did not have the gumption (i.e. chutzpa) to give that answer, and instead replied that she would choose any type of tree that grows.  (The interviewer still pressed her to pick a specific type of tree, which just reinforced my bad impression of the whole exercise.  Inane.)

2. The Shiurei Da’as has a chakirah (that we’ve discussed before) as to whether good and bad are inherent in nature and G-d is like a doctor who reveals what will lead to optimal health, or whether good and bad are functions of G-d’s will, and it is only his decree as king that makes it so.  (The question long predates the Shiurei Da’as, but R’ Bloch applies it nicely to explain a number of difficult Chazals.)   At the end of the day, it’s a combination and overlap of both.  The Shem m’Shmuel (Rosh haShana 5673) doesn’t formulate the chakirah so sharply, but he uses the idea to explain the root of Adam and Chavah’s sin.  He suggests that Chavah’s declaration that the fruit of the eitz ha’da’as was “tov l’ma’achal” itself was wrong because it bifurcated the command not to eat the fruit from the quality of the thing itself.  Chavah saw the tree as inherently good and desirable; it was off-limits s (in her view) only because of G-d’s seemingly arbitrary decree.  She failed to see G-d’s decree as a revelation that the something was inherently wrong with the tree no matter what her own feelings told her.  I would add that in the opening creation story of Braishis, it is G-d and G-d alone who decided and declared what is good: “Va’yar Elokim… ki tov.”  Chavah’s independent assessment and assertion that something was “tov” marks a radical change in attitude even before the fruit has been ingested.

Yet perhaps the word “tov” here is in reality a red herring.  R’ Ahron Lichtenstein distinguishes different uses of “tov” in his lecture "Being Frum and Being Good: On the Relationship Between Religion and Morality."  He uses Chavah’s declaration that the tree was “tov l’ma’achal” as an example of good in the pragmatic sense, with no moral value attached.  It’s like my saying it is “tov” for me to take my car to work instead of walking.  In contrast, when we speak of issurim or mitzvos, we are speaking of a moral assessment of what is good vs. bad, right vs. wrong, not just pragmatics.  If Chavah thought the fruit of the tree looked tasty and might have made a good snack were she hungry – no more than an aesthetic and/or pragmatic judgment call -- does that sense of  it being “tov” really diminish or contradict her appreciation of the moral “lo tov” of G-d’s command not to eat it?  Isn’t the Shem m’Shmuel conflating the two meanings of “tov?" 

On the other hand, lulei d’mistafina I wonder whether R’ Ahron’s reading of Chavah’s words is correct.  If Chavah truly believed the nachash‘s assertion that the eitz ha’da’as was the key to being like G-d, then might not her declaration that the tree was “tov l’ma’achal” in fact be a value statement?  Perhaps she not only thought it might be tasty, but thought the pursuit of knowledge was a moral obligation (see this Meshech Chochmah). 

3. Immediately after Adam’s cheit, the Torah writes (3:8) that Adam heard Hashem, “mis'haleich ba’gan l’ruach hayom,” and he hid.  Hashem then addressed Adam and ask why he was hiding.  The Seforno comments (d”h “l’ruach hayom”) that Hashem was going about doing the things that needed to be done on that day, just like he had done on the other days of creation and the day before the cheit.  Hashem did not come to visit the garden to confront Adam.  It was only after Adam became aware of Hashem and hid that Hashem addressed him and reacted to what had been done. 

Shem m’Shmuel explains that every punishment meted out by Hashem is an opportunity for rehabilitation.  Hashem did not originally address Adam because Adam had not earned the right to be rehabilitated.  It was only when Adam hid and showed an awareness that he had done wrong that Hashem addressed him and provide a punishment/tikun for his wrongdoing.  The first step to getting out of the pit of wrongdoing is to avoid remaining indifferent to the fact that wrongdoing has occurred.

absolute vs relative judgment

Before Yom Kippur our community had the privilege of hearing words of chizuk from R' Eli Mansour.  The thesis of his talk (I found a similar shiur he gave posted here if you want to hear it) was that there are two types of judgment on the yom ha'din: 1) absolute, or objective judgment; 2) relative, or what he calls comparative judgment.  Objective judgment means G-d pulls out the scorecard and weighs our merits vs. our demerits and gives us a grade.  I don't know about you, but to me, that's a scary thought.  Can any of us really be confident that we have more good deeds than bad on the books?  Fortunately, there is another judgment -- comparative judgment.  Instead of looking at how we are doing on an absolute scale, G-d looks at how we are doing relative to the society and environment we find ourselves in.  The student who gets a 65 on a test on an absolute scale is barely passing, but if everyone else in the class got a 40, he looks like a genius.  We live in such a sick, perverted society that when G-d looks at us, warts and all, we sparkle like diamonds compared with the rest of the world.  Because of that, hopefully we merited a chasima tovah.

I was reminded of the shiur when I saw this Ohr haChaim on the murder of Hevel.  Kayin offered the first korban, and taken by itself, that's certainly a positive.  But when you compare his paltry korban with the offering of his brother Hevel, then not only is the import of his gift minimized and lessened, but it almost seems to be an affront to G-d.  On Yom Kippur, relative judgment works in our favor.  When it came to Kayin's korban, relative judgment -- the inescapable comparison to Hevel -- worked against him, at least in his mind.  Kayin was consumed with jealousy.  As a result, he killed his brother Hevel.  Kayin had a simple cheshbon: better to commit one murder and suffer the consequences than to live with the constant risk of being judged as faulty and not-up-to snuff compared with others.

The Netziv takes note of the double-language, "Vayichar l'Kayin" and "vayipol panav."  When G-d speaks to Kayin, again, we have the double-language of "Lamah charah lach" and "lamah naflu panecha."  The Netziv suggests that Kayin was doubly troubled.  He was troubled by his own failure to offer an acceptable korban, but more than that, he was troubled by the fact that Hevel had offered a better korban and had outshone him.  In other words, Kayin felt disappointment in his own accomplishment when judged on an absolute scale, but he also felt the pain of falling short relative to his brother.  I would say that failure perhaps hurt even more.  

I'm afraid I'm going to part ways with the Netziv's reading of the next pesukim (see Ramban as well) and would like to suggest a different punch line to the story.  In response to Kayin's anger and depression, Hashem tells him, "Ha'lo im tei'tiv se'eis v'im lo tei'tiv la'pesach chatas roveitz..." (4:5).  Do good and you can overcome the yetzer ha'ra; do bad, and it will catch up with you.  Didn't Kayin know that?  Don't we all know that?  Peshita, mai kah mashma lan?  Maybe what Hashem was telling Kayin is that if *you* do good, then *you* will overcome the yetzer and be successful.  Forget about Hevel and what he's doing -- focus on yourself, on the *you*, on what you need to improve on.  It's not because of Hevel alone that your korban was rejected -- it's because you could and should have done better.  This is the mirror image of Rabbi Mansour's message.  Hashem is generous and will use comparative judgment when it's in our favor, and kinas sofrim tarbeh chochma as a motivation tool, but when a person is consumed with thinking about keeping up with the Joneses, even in spiritual matters, it can have debilitating effects and do more harm than good.  Hashem was telling Kayin to focus only on the absolute scale, on what he felt he could and should accomplish relative to his own abilities, and forget about the rest.  Score a 95 on the test and it doesn't matter what the other person got -- your good grade stands on it's own merits. 

It's interesting that earlier in the week I was planning on posting something entirely different on Braishis and then I sat down by the computer and this just popped out onto the screen.  Bl"n I have to get to the other topic...

Simchas Torah -- kiyum simcha of the tzibur vs kiyum of the yachid

Rama (O.C. 660) quotes that minhag Ashkenaz is that an aveil does not do the hakafos with his lulav during hosha'anos.  Beis Yosef disagrees and wonders why an aveil should be exempt.  After all, an aveil is obligated in all mitzvos, including simchas Yom Tov, which cancels aveilus, so why is hosha'anos any different?  Achronim try their best to justify the minhag, but the answers are not (as the Taz and others already say) are not completely satisfying.  The Bach suggests that the problem stems from the fact that an aveil cannot cut his hair, and the kohanim who did the hakafa of the mizbeiach that we are commemorating were not permitted to have long hair, peru'ei rosh.  The problem is that the shiur of hair that is called too long is a growth of more than 30 days, and except for aveilus on parents, an aveil can take a haircut at the end of 30 days.  Some see participating in hosha'anos as representing the tzibur, and just like an aveil cannot serve as the shat"z on days that tachanun is not recited, so too, he cannot participate here.  The GR"A (quoted in M"B as well) says the exemption is based on the fact that the hakafos of the mizbeiach are a kiyum of "u'smachtem lifnei Hashem Elokeichem shivas yamim" and an aveil lacks the ability to be b'simcha (begging the question of how this is different than the mitzvah of simchas Y"T).  In short: it's a difficult minhag to justify.  (The Gesher haChaim paskens that an aveil can do hakafos after the tzibur as finished, and he quotes the Ya'avetz as allowing the aveil to participate on Hosha'ana Rabbah.  I'm not sure how that would fit with the GR"A.)

Gesher haChaim (vol 2 ch 17) raises another fascinating question.  The Kaf haChaim and others writes that although an aveil cannot participate in dancing on Simchas Torah, he is allowed to have a hakafa with the sefer Torah.  If hakafos with the lulav, which are only a zeicher to the "u'smachtem" of the mikdash, are prohibited, how then are hakafos of Simchas Torah, which are part of the simchas ha'yom itself, permitted?!  (Note that the Chelkas Ya'akov here prohibits participating in hakafos for this very reason.)

One theory the Gesher haChaim offers is that there is a fundamental difference between the kiyum simcha that happens in the mikdash, commemorated by hosha'anos, and other kiyumim of simcha.  The simcha of the mikdash was a chovas hatzibur -- it was a communal celebration, a national rejoicing.  Simchas Yom Tov celebrated by having a meal with family, Smchas Torah celebrated by dancing in shul, is a simcha of the yachid, the individual.  We may come together as families to celebrate or as communities to celebrate, but the end goal in doing so is to enhance our personal kiyum of simcha.  It does not transform the kiyum into a communal one.  Therefore, the Rama prohibits only participating in hosha'anos but no other simcha as only hosha'anos contains a "zeicher l'mikdash" component that reminds us of this communal kiyum in the mikdash.

Even if one accepts the sevara as correct, perhaps there is room to argue.  Abarbanel in Parshas VaYeilech writes that our celebration of Simchas Torah is based on the hakhel ceremony.  Just like in hakhel the king would read Sefer Devarim before the assembled people, so too, on Simchas Torah we gather together and the leader of the community finishes the reading of Devarim (see Kli Chemdah in P' Zos haBracha who discusses the source for a talmid chacham being called for the final aliya without noting this Abarbanel and the parallel to melech.  I am sure many Rabbis are wondering about the validity of the comparison between themselves and a melech : )  Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me that the hakhel ceremony, done in the makom mikdash, is a communal obligation.  Everyone -- men, women, and even children -- must come and participate in hakhel.  If that's what our celebration on Simchas Torah is modeled after, then the same logic that precludes an aveil from hosha'anos should apply here.

One final note: Many shuls hold a big kiddush or lunch on Simchas Torah and I was wondering if one can participate during aveilus.  This post is pretty long already so I'll skip going through the shitos about whether and what simchos an aveils can/cannot participate in -- let's keep it simple: social occasions are out.  I view most kiddushes as social occasions.  However, it turns out that Simchas Torah lunch is an exception.  Even those who hold that an aveil cannot participate in a siyum would allow an aveil to make a siyum himself -- in that case, the aveil is not a guest; he is the host.  On Simchas Torah, each one of us is not a guest at the siyum haTorah -- each one of us is the host, the mesayeim.  Each one of us is celebrating our personal completion of another round of learning.

And one last final, final note: I don't know how you balance "v'samachta b'chagecha" with being aware of and feeling the pain of those killed al Kiddush haShem in Eretz Yisrael.  All I know is that we need lots of rachamei shamayim, lots of Torah, and we need lots of zechuyos.

V'osi yom yom yidroshun' -- zu tekiya v'aravah

The Mishna in R"H writes that unlike hallel which is said right after shacharis, tekiyas shofar is delayed until musaf.  The gemara explains that this is a takanah from times when there was a danger of the enemy misinterpreting the gathering of Jews as a rebellion and shofar blast as a call to arms.  Once shacharis passed and it was apparent that this was just a religious service, there was no danger anymore.  If so, asks the Yerushalmi (perek 4 halacha 8), why was their not the same concern with respect to hallel, i.e. that the noise of the singing of hallel would be misinterpreted as an uprising?  The gemara answers (compare with the Bavli) that not everyone is in shul that early (a makor for coming to shul late on Y"T : ) and a small minor gathering would not be misinterpreted as a rebellion.  However, says the Yerushalmi, everyone is in shul for tekiyas shofar (amazing -- it's still true to this very day.) The Yerushalmi ends off with a derasha: "Amar Rav Yonah, ksiv 'V'osi yom yom yidroshun' -- zu tekiya v'aravah."  Explains the Pnei Moshe, on the day of Rosh haShana by tekiyos and the day of Hoshana Rabbah by aravah everyone is in shul to daven together.

Why these two days in particular?  Why are davka tekiyas shofar and the mitzvah of aravah times of 'V'osi yom yom yidroshun?'

Achronim explain that aside from being a kiyum of mitzvas shofar, the tekiyos which we blow during shmoneh esrei of Rosh HaShana are also a kiyum of tefilah.  Sometimes a person cannot even get the words out to daven -- they can just sigh or cry and that's it.  That's the tefilah of tekiyas shofar -- a tefilah without words.  Rosh haShana is an opportunity for our prayers to be heard even if we can't articulate the words.

The four minim represent four types of Jews.  The esrog which has a nice taste and nice smell represents the tzadik who as Torah and mitzvos under his belt.  At the other extreme is the aravah, that has neither taste nor smell and is bereft of ruchniyus.  What zechus does the aravah-Jew have to call upon his his tefilos?  None.  The shape of the aravah resembles closed lips, says the Sefas Emes.  Yet on Hoshana Rabbah, even those closed lips that have no zechuyos to call on can have their prayers answered (see this post as well).

Rosh haShana starts the season of the y'mei ha'din; Hoshana Rabbah ends it.  The bookends are days of tefilah, days when Hashem is there to listen, whether you can get the words or not, whether you come with zechuyos or come with empty hands and just beg to be heard.

the dual nature of chag hasukkos

Chasam Sofer observes that in the leining for the first days of Y"T we have what sounds like two separate descriptions of Sukkos:

1) "Dabeir el Bnei Yisrael leimor bachamisha asar yom lachodesh ha'shevi'i ha'zeh chag hasukkot shivas yamim l'Hashem." (23:34)

2)  "Ach b'chamisha asar lachodesh ha'shevi'i b'aspichem es tevu'as ha'aretz tachogu es chag Hashem shivas yamim, bayom harishon shabason u'bayom ha'shemini shabason." (23:39)

From 23:34-38 the Torah only discusses the korbanos of the chag and there is no mention of the eighth day.  In the second section, 23:34-43, the mitzvos of lulav and sukkah are mentioned, and right in the introductory pasuk we are told that there is an extra day of "yom ha'shemini."

There is a dual identity to the chag of Sukkos.  On the one hand, it marks the culmination of the y'mei hadin of Rosh haShana-Yom Kippur-Sukkos, ending in Hosha'na Rabbah.  On the other hand,it is the final one of the shalosh regalim of Pesach, Shavuos, and Sukkos.

The y'mei ha'din are a spiritual cycle of time.  The shalosh regalim are essentially part of the agricultural cycle of planting (Pesach), ripening (Shavuos), and harvesting (Sukkos).

In the first section, the Torah deals only with the chag's spiritual dimension: korbanos.  There is no mention of it being the harvest season, unlike in the second section, which begins by mentioning that we celebrate "b'aspichem es tevu'as ha'aretz."  There, in the second section, the Torah discusses taking the lulav, celebrating nature, which has once again delivered it's bounty.  There we have the command to sit in sukkah to remind the farmer not to become spoiled and self-indulgent.  And there we have an added "yom shemini" tacked on to bring the farmer back to a focus on the spiritual, to have one final day devoted to ruchniyus, as a culmination of the chag.

talmud Torah as a kiyum of simchas Yom Tov

There is a machlokes Tanaim how to resolve the contradiction between the pesukim "atzeres l'Hashem" and "atzeres lachem" -- which one is it?  R' Yehoshua holds that you have to make a compromise and split Yom Tov between G-d and your own enjoyment; R' Eliezer holds it's either/or -- you can spend the day immersed in Torah and avodas Hashem, or you can spend the day immersed in doing what you enjoy.  This machlokes fits a general pattern of disputes in Chazal as to how to handle situations where there are contradictory pesukim or halachos and no "kasuv ha'shelishi" that resolves what to do: are you supposed to make some a compromise between the two extremes or choose between fulfilling one or the other.  (The two pesukim in this case appear in two different contexts with respect to two different yamim tovim, but the gemara was not willing to entertain the possibility of reading each pasuk as applying only to its particular yom tov context as a feasible answer.)

Maharasha (Pesachim 68) asks: according to R' Eliezer, if one spends the entire day immersed in Torah, how can one fulfill the mitzvah of "v'samachta b'chagecha?"

He answers that learning gufa is simchas Yom Tov!  What could be more enjoyable than a blatt gemara?  (R' Tzadok haKohen writes that the "atezeres lachem" is fulfilled by the joy in learning; the "atzeres l'Hashem" should be how you approach eating your meal -- it should be l'shem shamayim.)

R' Zolti suggested based on this Maharasha that when one learns on Y"T, aside from the kiyum mitzvah of talmud Torah, one gets an additional kiyum of simchas Y"T.  This may explain a difficult Rashi in Sukkah (25).  The Mishna tells us that people who are engaged in doing a mitzvah are peturim from sukkah.  Rashi gives as an example someone who is travelling to learn Torah.  Achronim ask: the rule of oseik b'mitzvah patur min hamitzvah normally does not apply to talmud Torah -- we assume that you have to stop learning to do mitzvos.  The raison d'etre of learning is to perform mitzvos, so it makes no sense to say that learning should supersede doing mitzvos.  How then could Rashi say that someone going to learn is exempt from the mitzvah of sukkah?  

Some of the Achronim answer that Rashi is not speaking about learning itself. but about travelling to learn, and the travel, the hechsher mitzvah of going to learn, is what creates the exemption (which itself is an interesting chiddush -- the hechsher mitzvah of a mitzvah which itself does not exempt one from sukkah can create an exemption).  In the sefer "M'Shulchani shel R' Eliyahu Baruch" from the Mir he quotes from his son that based on R' Zolti's chiddush, Rashi makes perfect sense.  When one is learning on Y"T, it is also a kiyum of simchah.  It is not the mitzvah of talmud Torah which exempts one from sukkah, but rather it is the kiyum mitzvah of simchas Y"T inherent in that same act of learning which does so.

R' Eliyahu Baruch did not like this approach and argued that it's not the kiyum hagavra of  learning that does not allow any an exemption from mitzvos, but rather the cheftza of Torah itself is overridden by any other mitzvah.  Therefore, whether the kiyum mitzvah is one of simchas Y"T or purely one of talmud Torah does not matter in the end.

the meaning of "naval"

The meforshim struggle to make sense of the expression "Vayinabel tzur yeshua'so." (32:15)  The word "neveilah" is something you would normally associate with a physical thing.  Here, the pasuk is referring to disrespecting G-d, so it has to be taken less literally, which is how Rashi and Seforno interpret it.  Ibn Ezra sees a connotation of chilul Hashem.  The Meshech Chochma writes that the pasuk is referring to scoffers who go around attributing ridiculous meanings and interpretations to Torah so that it becomes an object of ridicule in people's eyes -- they make G-d repulsive to others.  What caught my eye is the Ramban, who reminds us that earlier in the perek (32:6)  Bnei Yisrael themselves are referred to as an "am naval v'lo chacham."  Ramban there writes that the term "naval" is the opposite of "nediv."  A naval is someone who has received gifts or consideration, but repays it with animosity and disdain rather than a thank-you.  A naval never shows appreciation.  Our pasuk is stressing that G-d acted as "tzur yeshu'aso," your redeemer, and yet, "vayinabel," rather than give thanks, we turned our back on him.

I want to suggest another possible interpretation to this ambiguous phrase also based on the earlier pasuk.  The Targum Onkelus explains the phrase "am naval" as "the nation who accepted the Torah."  How do you get that from the word "naval?"  The Peirush Yonasan on the T. Yonasan writes that the idea is that despite our receiving the Torah, we remained devoid of wisdom.  If so, ikkar chaseir min haseifer, because the translation of "naval" is missing.  The GR"A brilliantly  connects the Targum to a Midrash (in B.R. 17) that refers to there being three "novlos": 1) sleep is the noveles of death; 2) a dream is noveles of prophecy; 3) Torah is noveles of Heavnely chochmah.  The word "noveles" means an unripe date that falls off too early -- it's a taste of the real thing, but has not yet blossomed to fruition.  "Am naval" means we are the nation that got that noveles, i.e. the Torah, which is the noveles of the ultimate chochmah, but then we did not take advantage of that wisdom.  Turning to the our pasuk, although the Targum does not say it here, perhaps we could explains "vayinabel" to mean that we turned G-d's greatness into something unripe, something less than ideal, i.e. we minimized it's significance.  

wives are not angels

1. The Rama (O.C. 610:4) writes that the minhag is to wear white on Y"K to appear like an angel, which is also why we wear a kittil.  Additionally, the kittil is a reminder of shrouds, which reminds a person of death and causes a person to have humility and be contrite.

The MG"A comments on this Rama that the Midrash indicates that angels are male (my wife commented that an angel can't reproduce, so gender doesn't have much meaning up there.  I assume the terms male/female in this context are meant in the sense of mashpia vs. mekabeil, or chomer vs tzurah, though I found that the Anaf Yosef on the Midrash Rabbah, Vayikra 31:5 asks this question and gives a different answer), and therefore women need not wear white.  However, they may wear a kittil to remind them of death.  Women, according to the MG"A, are not angels.

The M"B quotes the Mateh Ephraim who holds exactly the opposite.  Women should also wear white, but the custom is for women to not wear a kittil.  Interestingly, though, in O.C. 619:5 when the S.A. quotes the din of standing for all of davening, which is based on the idea of trying to be like an angel (they stand around on their one foot all day), the M.B. in the Sha'ar haTziyun writes that this does not apply to women.  The source is the previous din in O.C. 610, which seems true only if you hold like the MG"A.  To make matters more confusing, the reason the Tur gives for our saying "Baruch Shem K'vod Malchuso..." out loud is because Moshe heard the angels reciting this phrase, and on Yom Kippur we want to be like angels.  As far as I know, women also recite the phrase out loud as well.

2. Erev Y"K I was trying to find my kittil when my daughter reminded me that at the seder I had not worn a kittil since I am unfortunately in aveilus this year for my father.  Lichorah, the same logic should apply to Y"K as well.  She is absolutely right.  The Taz understands that the Rama is giving two reasons for wearing a kittil: 1) to be angelic; 2) to remind one of the yom ha'misah.  On Pesach as well, like reason #1 here, there are many positive uplifting reasons to wear a kittil, many of which are summarized in this post by R' Eliezer Eisenberg, who already has a full treatment of this topic to which I can add very little.  If the reason for wearing a kittil is a reminder of death, then there is no reason an aveil cannot wear one (though the MG"A in Hil Pesach writes that an aveil need not wear one since he has death on his mind without it); if the reason is to have some more positive experience of Yom Tov or of simcha, than the aveil is excluded because he is not supposed to be having positive uplifting experiences during aveilus. The Aruch haShulchan and R' Moshe both opine that an aveil should not wear a kittil on Y"K.  What I found interesting in that in Hil Pesach, the M"B (472 s"k 13) first writes that an aveil should not wear the kittil, but if he does, one need not object because the Taz says it is permitted.  In Hil Y"K (610 s"k 17) the M"B first quotes (giving this view primacy) the Taz's view that an aveil may wear a kittil and then quotes that there are minhagim not to.  Why give the Taz primacy here but put it on the back burner in Hil Pesach? 

3. The poskim have problems with the line in Ne'ilah, "Hayom yifneh, hashemesh yavo..."  If it is already after shekiya (which it was where I was davening when the shat"z got to this line, and I think that is probably true of many of not most places), then the day has in fact passed and the sun is down already, so the future tense seems wrong.  I saw that R' Chaim Kanievkey said to chang the nusach to past tense (i.e. "hayom panah, hashemesh ba'ah...") though the Aruch haShulchan opines that one need not do so.  In any case, it seems strange to me that in the previous line we say, "Psach lanu sha'ar... ki panah yom," here using the past tense.  Is it "panah yom" or "yifneh yom?"  I don't know how you can have it both ways.

4. Nu, on to preparing for Sukkos.  The Shem m'Shmuel writes that the reason we do na'anuim by waving the lulav away from and then to the heart is because while on Y"K we got our mind in order and now understand mentally what we need to do with out lives, we need to bring the lesson into our hearts, and that's what Sukkos is for.

you get what you ask for

This pasuk of “anochi haster astir” is tremendously difficult because it comes on the heels of Bnei Yisrael admitting that “ki ain Elokai b’kirbi metza’uni hara’os ha’eileh,” a seeming admission of guilt and wrongdoing.  Why does Hashem respond to that with greater hester panim even than before?  We’ve discussed this question before, but I want to mention an approach of the Abarbanel that I think rings especially true in our times.  It could be al pi peshuto the simplest answer is that the expression “ain Elokai b’kirbi” is actually referring to the avodah zarah idols.  Elokai should be with a lower-case e and read as chol.  The people are not confessing, but are actually ascribing what goes wrong to their avodah zarah abandoning them.  The difficulty is that idolatry is not usually referred to as "ELokai" (though my wife pointed out that when Lavan accuses Ya'akov of stealing his terafim, that is the word he uses).  Abarbanel suggests that the previous pesukim reveal that Bnei Yisrael were guilty of two sins: 1) worshipping avodah zarah; 2) not serving G-d properly.  These are not exactly two sides of the same coin.  When Bnei Yisrael confess, "Ain Elokai b'kirbi," they are taking responsibility for sin #2 -- they are acknowledging that they need to do better in their avodas Hashem.  What they fail to admit, and fail to acknowledge, is sin #1 -- that they are also guilty of idolatry.  What they fail to admit and fail to acknowledge is that you can't have more avodas Hashem without giving up the lifestyle of avodah zarah.  You can't be poseiach al shtei ha'se'ifim or have a shutfus.  It's either/or.  This is hard to swallow.  No one is an oveid avodah zarah, but the same idea can express itself more subtly.  We all want to strive for more in avodas Hashem, but we don't want to sacrifice our enjoyments or face our shortcomings either.  We prefer to ignore the negative within and instead just focus on doing more good in some way or other and think that absolves us.  As R' Yisrael Salanter put it, it's easier to learn shas than to correct one midah.  "Ain Elokai b'kirbi" so I have to take on another seder, write a bigger check to charity, daven a little slower, etc. -- all wonderful things, but if the same person ignores the avodah zarah/midah ra'ah that remains within and does nothing to correct it, he is doing half a job that is as good as no job.  Again, a very hard lesson to swallow.

So I don't want to enter Yom Kippur on a negative note, so on to something a little more positive, something I find a little scary.  Commenting on the phrase, “Anochi haster astir panei mei’hem,” (31:18) GR”A asks why the Torah uses the double-language of “haster astir.” He answers that the Torah is telling is that it is the very fact that Hashem is hiding himself, the “astir panay mei’hem,” which is what is being concealed with “hester.”  We think of all kinds of reasons to explain what happens to ourselves, to our families, to those living in Eretz Yisrael – the economy is bad, anti-semitism, politics, etc.  We invent a reason for everything.  The only reason we don’t consider is the real reason: Hashem has removed his hashgacha because we are not doing what he wants.  The real reason remains hidden; we have a mental block that prevents us from thinking about it.  This part of the GR”A, the pshat in the pasuk, I think is pretty well known, but my impression is that the rest of the GR”A’s comment, what I call the scary part, is less well known.  The GR"A continues and asks why it is that Hashem conceals from us the fact that he is concealed and he answers that if we knew what was going on, if we knew we were being punished with hester panim, then we would daven for Hashem to reveal himself, and He would inevitably respond.  The only way we can be punished by the removal of hashgacha is if we don’t daven to prevent it. 

It’s up to us – all we have to do is daven for Hashem to remove this block of hester panim and whatever gezeiros are lined up against us will be removed. 

On Yom Kippur night one of the first things we say after kol nidrei is the pasuk, “VaYomer Hashem salachti k’devarecha.”  This pasuk is Hashem’s response to Moshe’s tefilah to forgive Bnei Yisrael for the cheit ha’meraglim.  Of all the pesukim and tefilos we could possibly use to “lead off” our Yom Kippur, why is this the one that is chosen?  In one of R’ Ya’akov Shapira’s sichot he makes reference to a Sefas Emes in the likutim for Parshas Shelach that may answer this question.  The Rishonim point out that Moshe invokes some, but not all of the 13 midos in that tefilah for forgiveness.  There are various explanations as to why Moshe omitted some of the midos, e.g. Ramban explains that Moshe could not invoke the midah of “emes” because the meraglim were guilty of saying sheker about Eretz Yisrael.  Whatever the explanations, bottom line is that Moshe pulled his punches.  Hashem’s responded: “Salachti k’devarecha” -- exactly what you asked for, "k'devarecha," that’s what you will get.  Half of a request means half forgiveness, but the slate is not going to be wiped clean.  True, Moshe had all kinds of good reasons for not invoking all 13 midos, but af al pi kein…  Maybe the lesson is that when you daven, all the reasons and analysis of what you should say and how you should say it don’t matter.  When you are in pain and in need, you scream out – you don’t make cheshbonos.  That’s what tefilah has to be. 

So we learn from the GR”A that the removal of hester panim is completely in our hands if only we ask for it.  And we learn from the Sefas Emes that tefilah is not a time to pull punches -– it’s the time to swing for the fences and ask Hashem for anything and everything.  That's what we want to remind ourselves of as we enter the most auspicious day of the year.

a special time of year

Chazal (R”H 11) tell us that Chanah, Rachel, and Sarah were all “remembered” on Rosh HaShana and Hashem gave them the ability to have children.  What meaning does this have for us?  None of us measure up to these tzidkaniyos, so just because they merited special deliverance doesn’t mean we will get the same treatment.

R’ Leibel Eiger explains that we see from this Chazal that despite the great merits that Sarah, Rachel, and Chanah surely had, those merits were in-and-of themselves not enough to warrant their being blessed with children.  It was only because Hashem reviewed their case, so to speak, on Rosh HaShana, that they were zochos.  The time of year is what made all the difference.  We of course don’t have the same level of zechuyos that these tzidkaniyos had, but we do have the same opportunity to take advantage of this special, mesugal time period.  The gates upstairs are open and things that a person couldn’t be zocheh to, no matter how great he/she is, are now possible to merit.

 

It’s been a short week with less time than usual, so I just want to pose a question on the parsha and leave it at that because I don't yet have a good answer to share.  The theme of Parshas VaYeilech is the transition from the leadership of Moshe, whose life is coming to a close, to that of Yehoshua.  We have Moshe giving a final speech to Bnei Yisrael, Moshe turning over the sefer Torah he completed to the Bnei Levi, Moshe giving a charge to Yehoshua to be strong, and in the middle and midst of all this we have the mitzvah of hakhel.  Why give that mitzvah here?  Why not discuss it in Parshas Shoftim, where the laws of the king are discussed, since it is the king (Ralbag interestingly writes that the kohen gadol or any nasi can do the reading) who reads the Torah, or maybe in Parshas Behar, where the laws of shemita appear, since hakhel is done right after the shemita year?  Why stick it in the middle of our parsha, in the middle of Moshe turning over the reins (and the reign) to Yehoshua? 

Chanah's tefilos

I know the minhag is for most Rabbis to say divrei hisorerus before tekiyas shofar, but I was thinking that if you read the news and have any idea what is going on the world and that is not me'orer you to daven and focus on Rosh haShana, then I don't see what a Rabbi can say in 10 minutes that will make any difference.  (Of course I guess if you are a practicing Rabbi I guess you have a right to tell me that I haven't heard what you can do in those 10 minutes... )

The navi tells us that after Chanah davened, "Va'teilech ha'isha l'darka vatochal u'paneha lo hayu lah od." (Shmuel I 1:18)  Chanah had some measure of comfort and she went back to being her normal self -- she ate, she looked okay, etc.  Practically speaking, nothing in Chanah's life had changed, yet she obviously looked at the world in a different way than beforehand.  What changed? 

The Chasam Sofer in his Derashos writes that it was not that Chanah was so confident that her tefilah would be answered.  Chazal (see Tosfos R"H 16b d"h iyun) frown upon a person who feels assured that his/her prayers will be answered -- there are no guarantees no matter how hard you pray.  Rather, what changed is that Chanah was now willing to accept her situation even if in the end she would not have a child.  A person has to make the maximum hishtadlus, including and especially tefilah, but once that hishtadlus is exhausted, a person has to surrender and accept whatever G-d chooses to do.  If after coming to the Mishkan on Rosh haShana and pouring her heart out Chanah still was not blessed with a child, she was willing to accept that that was the ratzon Hashem and live with it.

it's not about us

I really wanted to write about both the parsha and Rosh haShana, but as usual, too much to do and too little time, so I have to keep this short and will try in a jumble to touch a few bases.

R’ Chaim Volozhiner takes note of the fact that when the navi describes Chanah’s tefilah, which we will IY”H read on Rosh haShana, it doesn’t say, “vatispallel EL Hashem,” but rather “vatispallel AL Hashem.” (Shmuel I 1:10)  Why the strange expression?

We learn from the navi something important about how we should daven and what we should daven for.  The Zohar uses very harsh language and compares someone who comes before Hashem with a list of requests to a dog that cries “Give! Give!” to its master.  So what are we doing when we daven for health, for parnasa, for all the other things we ask for?  On Rosh haShana even the shofar is a means of bakasha.  The Sefas Emes writes that the 12 shofar blasts, Tekiya-Teruah-Tekiya, Tekiya-Shevarim-Tekiya, Tekiya-Shevarim-Teruah-Tekiya, correspond to the 12 middle brachos of our shmoneh esrei where we make our requests to Hashem.  How in light of this Zohar could Chanah devote an entire tefilah to pleading with Hashem for a son and how can we devote so much of our tefilos to making requests?

The answer is that we are not davening “EL Hashem,” to G-d, bringing to him a laundry lists of our personal wants, but rather we are davening “AL Hashem,” davening about G-d, davening for kavyachol his needs and his wants.  A world with a Shmuel haNavi who can serve in the Mishkan and who can inspire Klal Yisrael with his leadership is a world with a greater presence of the Shechina, a world that is closer to G-d.  Had there not been a Shmuel haNavi, there would be a tremendous vacuum of ruchniyus that would have been unfilled.  When Chanah asked Hashem for a son, it was not a personal request rooted on her emotional needs and wants, but rather it was a request rooted in the desire to bring about hashra’as haShechina, what Hashem wants.  

Everyone thinks that the reason we eat the simanim on Rosh HaShana night is because it’s not enough to just ask for the laundry list of things that we want, but we have to go a step further and translate those requests into symbolic actions to make them more real, to give them more weight.  The Sefas Emes in his first piece on Rosh haShana says exactly the opposite.  A siman is just a remez, a little hint.  Our main concern and our main request on Rosh haShana is that there be more kvod malchus shamayim.  As an aside, we sneak in a little hint to some of our own personal needs and wants as well.  We don’t do it openly – we just make a siman, a remez, because these are all secondary to what our real focus is, which is malchus Hashem.  If we are leading lives l'shem shamayim and our needs and wants are l'shem shamayim, then m'meila when there is more kvod shamayim our needs will be fulfilled as well. 

The Tiferes Shlmo on Parshas Nitzavim echoes the same theme.  He points out that the word “shama” at the end of the pasuk, “…V’hasheivosa el levavecha b’chol hagoyim asher hidichacha Hashem Elokecha SHAMA,” (30:1) seems completely extraneous.  Be inserting a few commas, a few extra pauses, he reads the pasuk in way that makes every word count.  “V’hasheivosa el levavecha,” we have to take to heart, “b’chol hagoyim asher hidichacha,” in all those places that Hashem was forced to send us because we needed the punishment of galus, “Hashem Elokecha shama,” Hashem himself is there along with us.  Sure, our being in galus feels bad for us, but what should really bother us is kavyachol the pain the Shechina is in because it is schlepped into galus along with us, just so we are not abandoned.  The next pasuk then continues, “V’shavta AD Hashem Elokecha” – again, not “EL Hashem,” but rather “AD Hashem” (just like the words of the haftarah ,“Shuvah yisrael AD Hashem Elokecha…”)  The return being spoken about is a return to a focus on the Shechina rather than ourselves, a re-orientation to the right priorities.

That in a nutshell is part of our avodah for the upcoming days.  Hopefully we will all be vehicles through which there is a greater giluy of kvod shamayim in the world, and through that we will benefit bracha and hatzalacha in the upcoming year.

bikurim vs challah: mitzvah vs matir, and more

1) The Beis Ya’akov of Ishbitz points out that the idea of bikurim is reflected in the root of the word: b-k-r.  The letter beis is the second letter of the first unit of 10 in the aleph-beis; the letter kaf is the second letter in the unit of the next 10; the letter reish is the second letter in the last group.  B-k-r is all about coming in second.  The farmer says, “Hinei heiveisi es reishis pri ha’adamah,” these are my first fruits, but the truth is that before he even planted the seed from which those fruits grew there was an earlier reishis, the reishis of Hashem’s plan for these seeds to grow for this farmer and be used for this purpose.  When the farmer brings those first fruits to the Beis haMikdash, he reminds himself of the real reishis.

2) Rashi comments on the word “reishis” in the pasuk, “V’lakachta mei’reishis kol pri ha’adamah”:

לא כל ראשית, שאין כל הפירות חייבין בבכורים אלא שבעת המינין בלבד

The Mizrachi makes one little change in the girsa -- he takes out the letter “shin” before the word “she’ain...” – but boy, does changing that one letter make a difference.  According to Mizrachi, Rashi is making two separate unrelated statements: 1) you can’t designate an entire field as bikkurim, i.e. there has to be something leftover after you take off the reishis; 2) only the seven minim are obligated in bikurim. 
What’s motivating Mizrachi here is the parallel between this Rashi and another Rashi.  In the parsha of hafrashas challah Rashi comments on the words “mei’reishis arisoseichem” (Bamidbar 15:21) that challah must be “miktzasa v’lo kulah,” i.e. it is a piece that is taken off from the batch of dough, but it cannot be the entire batch.  Here too, according to Mizrachi, bikurim must be “mei’reishis,” part of the crop, but one cannot designate the entire crop or field to be bikurim.

Maharal in Gur Aryeh disagrees and says a lomdish chiluk.  There is an issur of tevel that prohibits eating the food before challah and terumah are taken.  The hafrasha of terumah and challah is a matir - it comes to remove that issur; therefore, there has to be something leftover upon which the matir is chal.  Not so bikurim.  There is no issur of eating the crop before bikurim have been taken off – it’s a mitzvah to tak bikurim, but it’s not a matir of anything.  Tosfos (Bava Basra 81) writes that bikurim are a chiyuv on the person, not on the fruit.

The MG”A (O.C. 8 - posted on this in 2006 in piece that needs rewriting ) asks how it is that woman sit when they recite the bracha on hafrashas challah when birchos hamitzvah are supposed to be recited while standing.  He answers that there is a difference between mitzvos like challah and shechitah and other mitzvos.  The MG”A might be alluding to this sevara of the Gur Aryeh: hafrashas challah is a matir, not a mitzvah in its own right. (See this post as well.)

3) The halacha is that a person cannot appoint a shliach to bring his bikurim to the Beis haMikdash – he has to deliver them himself.  A shliach cannot give thanks for “ha’adamah asher nasatah li,” as is the nusach recited when bringing bikurim, if the bikurim are in fact not the fruits of his land but of someone else’s.  I would suggest that this is not just a technical issue with the nusach, but says something fundamental about the nature of the mitzvah.  If I remember correctly (sorry, I didn't double-check), the Avudraham writes that the reason we say modim derabbanan alongside the chazzan’s recitation of modim during chazaras hashatz is because the theme of modim is giving thanks.  Saying thank you is something that must be done personally, not via a shliach.  Here too, the purpose of bringing bikurim is to give thanks to Hashem for giving us Eretz Yisrael and its crops.  It has to be done in person by coming to the Beis haMikdash, not assigned to a shliach.

4) Since we (Ashkenazim) will IY”H start saying slichos this motzei Shabbos I wanted to highlight the Meshech Chochma’s observation that there are exactly 13 mentions of the shem Hashem in the parsha of bikurim which he says correspond to the 13 midos ha’rachamim.  Interestingly, if you look at Shmos 34 where the 13 midos appear, theataliya ends with the mitzvah of bikurim.  What are we supposed to make of this observation I don’t know, but it’s something to think about over Shabbos.

desensitized

I don’t know why it never made an impression on me before, but when I started reviewing Rosh haShana this time I was struck by the pesukim the gemara quotes to prove that Nisan is not the start of a new year for kings of the umos ha’olam.  The gemara quotes that in Kislev a messenger came and told Nechemya about the terrible time that the people in Yerushalayim were having rebuilding the city because of the constant harassment by enemies.  The navi goes on to relate that In Nisan of the same year of Koresh’s reign (proving Nisan does not mark a new year) Nechemya was serving the king wine and Koresh remarked on how distressed and depressed Nechemya looked.  Nechemya was forced to explain that he was distressed over what was happening to his brethren in Yerushalayim and he used the opportunity to ask for help.  

I can go back to last week’s news and point to any number of stories that if you have half a neshoma should have made your hair stand on end – stories involving Eretz Yisrael and Yerushalayim in particular.  How many people even remember these stories a week later, much less feel any sense of pain about what is going on?!  And here, when he is appearing before the king and obviously needs to try to make sure he looks his best, Nechemya is so overcome with grief over news he heard **four or five months beforehand** that Koresh can read the depression and distress on his face! 

Maybe it’s because we are inundated with painful stories all day thanks to the news and the internet that none of them make an impression on us any longer.  We've become desensitized to things that should bother us -- and that's a tragedy that's almost as painful as some of the events themselves.

setting the right tone

They should probably make teacher appreciation day at the start of the year, not in the middle or the end, because I don’t know a parent who is not thrilled to be able to get their kid out of the house again and back to school this upcoming week.  But the truth is that while we like to think our kids are being educated in school and we pay a lot of money for whatever they do there, the main education of any child comes from seeing what parents do at home.  The Tiferes Banim interprets the pasuk in the parsha of ben sorer u’moreh, “ainenu shome’a b’kol aviv u’bkol imo,” that if the child does not hear the voice of his parents davening, learning, etc. then “v'yisru oso v’lo yishma aleihem,” when they rebuke him and tell him that he has to learn, he has to daven, etc., he is not going to listen.  Why should he listen to their speeches about what he should do if they behave differently themselves? 
 
My two additional cents: the Ohr haChaim in parshas Braishis distinguishes between the word “kol,” which refers to tone of voice, and words like “dibur” or “amira,” which refer to what is actually said.  When Adam is chastised, “Ki Shamata b’kol ishtecha…,” Hashem was telling him that the reason he was led astray is because he paid attention to the enticing voice Chavah had used, the way she spoke.  Had he paid attention only to the words only, he would have recognized that they contradicted Hashem’s instructions.  “Hakol kol Ya’akov” means that Yitzchak recognized the tone of voice as that of Ya’akov and not Eisav.  Similarly, perhaps “ainenu shome’a b’kol aviv u’bkol imo,” (it could have just as easily said, “ainenu shomea l’kol aviv v’imo”) means that the ben sorer u’moreh is not hearing any instruction given in the tone of voice of a parent.  There are parents who instead of speaking like parents speak like taskmasters (they are authoritarian instead of authoritative, as the psychology books put it).  And on the other extreme, daughter #2 yesterday explained a certain phrase to me and then added that “It’s not how a parent would say it.”  I’m glad she recognizes the difference, but there are parents who don’t and prefer to speak like teenagers or friends.  “Ainenu shome’a b’kol aviv u’b’kol imo” – the ben sorer u’moreh is not hearing a father’s voice, a mother’s voice.  He hears words, but hearing words alone without hearing them expressed in the proper tone and nuance -- that of a parent -- are not enough. 
 
The gemara (Nedarim 81) writes that the Chachamim and Nevi’im could not understand why the churban happened until Hashem himself revealed the reason.  The gemara darshens the double-language of the pasuk in Yirmiyahu (9:12) “V’lo shamu b’koli v’lo halchu bah” and asks isn’t “lo shamu b’koli” the same as “lo halchu bah?”  The gemara answers that the extra language reveals that the sin that caused the churban was the failure to recite birchas haTorah.  Ran explains that the lack of bracha shows that the learning lacked any feeling of lishma (see also Maharal in the intro to Tiferes Yisrael).  How do Chazal get that lesson from the pasuk?  If you will forgive me (it’s aggadita, so I'll take greater license) for learning differently than the Ran, I would suggest that the derasha comes from the words “lo sham’u b’koli,” not "lo halchu bah" as he learns.  “Kol,” again, is about the tone, not the words.  Klal Yisrael was not guilty of not learning.  There was learning galore – but the tone was wrong, the feeling was wrong.  The Rambam compares the relationship one should have with Hashem to the relationship between a husband and wife.  It’s not just what a husband says to a wife, or vice versa, that is different than conversations had with others, but the whole tone of how they communicate with each other is different.   That's what was missing in the relationship between Hashem and Klal Yisrael at the time of the churban (see also Netziv on the words “ainenu shome’a b’kol aviv ub’kol imo” as referring to Torah.)

Why is the ben sorer u’moreh punished so severely?  Chazal ask, “For eating a tartimor of meat and drinking a half a lug of Italian wine a father and mother should bring their child to get sekilah?!”  The gemara in the name of R’ Shimon concludes that the parsha never happened – it’s an impossibility.  It was only written only to give us extra schar for learning Torah (and the meforshim discuss why this parsha in particular is given for schar; in theory any number of imaginary laws could be given for the same reason.)  The Ibn Ezra interestingly does justify the killing of the ben sorer u’moreh.  He explains that a life of running after indulgences and constant drink is “k’mo apikores,” a very striking statement.   Not, as Rashi explains, that such a lifestyle will lead to greater crimes, but that the lifestyle of the ben sorer u’moreh is itself a crime (see also Ramban). 

If the Ibn Ezra’s moral intuition is right, then why doesn't R' Shimon say the same thing?  Why doesn’t he answer that the ben sorer u’moreh is deserving of what he gets because he is an apikores?  I think the answer is that Chazal and the Ibn Ezra are asking two different questions.  The Ibn Ezra’s focus is on what the ben sorer u’moreh did wrong – why he is morally culpable.  The question Chazal are asking is not how or why the ben sorer u’moreh deserves to be punished so severely, but rather how in the world could there be parents who would bring their own child to such a fate.  That is the point which Chazal found so unbelievable.  “Bneinu zeh sorer u’moreh…”  The Alshich reads the extra word “bneinu” as an admission of guilt on the part of the parents – it’s our child, and therefore, our fault.  I would suggest that it can be read as a message of acceptance – true, this is a sorer u’moreh, but it’s still “bneinu,” our child.  It’s the incongruity of those feelings with the rest of the pasuk that make this parsha unfathomable.