Chazal (Men. 110) derive from the extra words "Zos toras ha'olah..." that learning the parsha of korban olah is equivalent to actually offering the korban. (It seems from the gemara that the same is true for all korbanos. I am surprised that the Ksav Sofer makes a point here of explaining why the principle is applicable specifically to the olah -- since the olah is brought to be mechapeir on hirhurei aveirah, bad thoughts, not bad deeds, therefore, in this case specifically reading and thinking about the parsha can serve as a mechapeir in lieu of the actual korban.) This is why when we read the parshiyos of korbanos in the morning (or the mishnayos in aizehu mekoman) we recite a ye'hi ratzon asking Hashem to count that recitation as a substitute for the korban itself.
The Tur writes that the exception to the above rule is the korban chatas. There is no such thing a a voluntary korban chatas (a korban nedava) -- if you are not obligated to bring a chatas and offer one anyway, it's an issur of chulin b'azarah. You can't say, "Y'hi ratzon that this should count as a chatas," because you may not really be obligated to bring one (the Tur was generous in his opinion of us all).
The Beis Yosef questions the Tur's logic. Chazal tell us that the recitation of the parshiyos of korbanos count as if they were actually offered -- they don't say that the recitation of the ye'hi ratzon counts as if the korbanos were offered. If the Tur was really worried about the problem if chulin b'azarah, then he should recommend omitting the entire parsha of chatas, not just the ye'hi ratzon.
The Beis Yosef answers that reciting the parsha alone counts as a "kaprah b'miktzas" -- whatever that means. It sounds like the Beis Yosef wants to have his cake and eat it too -- he wants the parsha count for something, yet not count enough to pose a chulin b'azarah problem. The Bach has a different twist. He answers that just reading the parsha is a way of hedging one's bets. At the end of the day, the parsha of chatas is still a parsha in chumash. If one is not obligated to bring a chatas, then reading the parsha counts as no more than talmud Torah; if one is obligated to bring a chatas, then it counts as an actual offering of the korban. However, you can only hedge so long as you don't recite the ye'hi ratzon. Once you daven for Hashem to accept the recitation of the parsh as a substitute for the actual korban, all bets are off -- if you ask for the parsha to count as a korban, it counts as a korban.
Why does the Bach's answer make any better sense than the Tur? It seems like we are back to square 1 -- according to the Bach, it's the ye'hi ratzon that triggers the acceptance of the parsha as a korban, but the gemara clearly says that the parsha itself is the substitute!?
Rav Tzvi Pesach Franks (Har Tzvi O.C. 1) uses this question an an opportunity to discuss the concepts of hashgacha and tefilah. He sets down the following principle: Whatever a tzadik asks for, Hashem will deliver, irrespective of whether Hashem knows the request is for the good or for the bad. For example: David haMelech davened that Hashem should test him. Hashem certainly knew that David would fail, but since David asked, he got what he wanted. "Retzon ye'rei'av ya'aseh v'es shavasam yisma v'yoshi'eim" -- it's not double-language in the pasuk, but two seperate points: "Retzon ye'rei'av ya'aseh," Hashem does the will of the Righteous, even though He knows it will not turn out the way they think it will; "V'es shavasam yishma v'yoshi'eim," and after the fact, when the tzadikim realize the hole they dug for themseves and daven for Hashem's help to get out of it, He listens and responds. Be careful what you ask for as you may just get it.
As you don't say the ye'hi ratzon, Hashem does what's best -- if you need a korban chatas as a kaparah, He counts the reading of the parsha as a korban; if not, He counts it as talmud torah. However, once you ask Hashem to count the parsha as a korban, even if that works to your detriment, even if that results is chulin b'azarah, Hashem will grant your request and the damage is done.
I would add one final point. The Bach doesn't just say that tzadikim should avoid saying the ye'hi ratzon because Hashem will act on it -- he says everyone, you and me included, should avoid saying it. I don't think this is b'geder lo plug; I think we see from here that we have every right to assume that Hashem listens and responds to our tefilos. Puk chazei how people talk about tefilah -- it's not uncommon for people to ask why Hashem didn't listen to their prayers without giving a moment's thought to the audacity it takes to assume that the Master of the Universe should pay attention and respond to a sin-filled basar v'dam regardless of his/her past history! The fact that such an assumption comes as second nature to us perhaps is not just because we like to delude ourselves as to our own importance, but rather it reflects an underlying truth about the nature of tefilah and hashgacha.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
why we still do haseiba
I am fairly confident that in most areas of the Western world the practice of reclining on a couch while eating, haseiba, has long since fallen by the wayside. It is culturally no longer a sign of freedom, luxury, social standing, derech cheirus, or anything else. The Ra'avya's conclusion that therefore we can dispense with the obligation of haseiba at first glance makes a lot of sense. Why don't most poskim agree?
I think the simple answer is that most poskim assume that once enacted, the takanah of haseiba does not simply cease to apply just because the cultural norms that may have given rise to the takanah have changed. It would require a formal repeal of Beis Din to change the law. However, Rav Wahrman in his sefer Oros HaPesach (link) is not satisfied with this answer. If I follow his argument, what he says is that while it makes sense to speak of continuing a behavior even if the reason for its performance is no longer applicable, it does not make sense to speak of a cultural symbol that has lost its symbolism -- that's a contradiction in terms. Haseiba is by definition a symbol of freedom; when it's not, when it's just an empty act of leaning, it ceases to exist -- there is no longer a "metziyus" of such a symbol.
Rav Wahrman suggests a different approach, a classic "two dinim" sevara. He quotes Midrashim that find hints to haseiba in various pesukim in the story of yetzi'as Mitzrayim, e.g. "Vayaseiv Elokim es ha'am derech hamidbar Yam Suf..." These sources point to the fact that in addition to its being a symbol, haseiba is a re-enactment of Bnei Yisrael's behavior as they left Mitzrayim. The poskim who reject the Ra'avya may contend that even if its symbolic meaning is lost, haseiba must still be done as a kiyum of re-enactment.
I don't know if I'm convinced. Let's start with this case: The gemara (Pes 108) says that reclining on the right side is not acceptable because it's dangerous -- food may go down the wrong tube -- and it's not the normal method of reclining. Rashbam explains that it's not normal because a righty would be very uncomfortable trying to eat with his right hand while leaning right. If so, asks the Maharal, what about a lefty -- why is a lefty required to lean on his left side, putting himself in a position of discomfiture, when a righty is exempt from leaning right for that same reason? Why is a lefty not completely patur (he can't lean right, because that would be dangerous; he can't lean left, as that's not derech cheirus for him)?
Without Rav Wahrman's chiddush I would say the answer to the Maharal's question is that Chazal made a takanah based on whatever the convention of the majority of the populace was. Leftys always have this problem of being ignored -- just ask one. School desks are made to accommodate a right handed writer; cars have controls positioned better for right-handed drivers, etc. Rav Wahrman however answers based on his two dinim model: Even if leaning right is not derech cheirus for a lefty, he must still lean to fulfill his obligation of re-enacting Bnei Yisrael's behavior when they left Egypt.
I'm not sure I get it. Why is the behavior of the right-handed people who left Egypt the model all future generations must imitate? Surely there were leftys who left Egypt -- which way did they lean? Why can't a lefty imitate his lefty forefathers? If the answer is that the takanah is modeled after the majority of the populace, I don't see what Rav Wahrman gains in his answer over mine.
There is an even bigger hole in Rav Wahrman's theory when it comes to explaining why women are exempt from haseiba. The Sheiltos (quoted in Rashbam) writes that since women normally do not eat while reclining, their haseiba would not be an expression of derech cheirus and they are therefore pturos. But if reclining is more than a cultural symbol, if it is also a re-enactment of Yetziyas Mitzrayim and therefore divorced from cultural norms, why are women exempt? Rav Wahrman asks this question and attempts to resolve it, but unfortunately I do not yet understand what he means.
I think the simple answer is that most poskim assume that once enacted, the takanah of haseiba does not simply cease to apply just because the cultural norms that may have given rise to the takanah have changed. It would require a formal repeal of Beis Din to change the law. However, Rav Wahrman in his sefer Oros HaPesach (link) is not satisfied with this answer. If I follow his argument, what he says is that while it makes sense to speak of continuing a behavior even if the reason for its performance is no longer applicable, it does not make sense to speak of a cultural symbol that has lost its symbolism -- that's a contradiction in terms. Haseiba is by definition a symbol of freedom; when it's not, when it's just an empty act of leaning, it ceases to exist -- there is no longer a "metziyus" of such a symbol.
Rav Wahrman suggests a different approach, a classic "two dinim" sevara. He quotes Midrashim that find hints to haseiba in various pesukim in the story of yetzi'as Mitzrayim, e.g. "Vayaseiv Elokim es ha'am derech hamidbar Yam Suf..." These sources point to the fact that in addition to its being a symbol, haseiba is a re-enactment of Bnei Yisrael's behavior as they left Mitzrayim. The poskim who reject the Ra'avya may contend that even if its symbolic meaning is lost, haseiba must still be done as a kiyum of re-enactment.
I don't know if I'm convinced. Let's start with this case: The gemara (Pes 108) says that reclining on the right side is not acceptable because it's dangerous -- food may go down the wrong tube -- and it's not the normal method of reclining. Rashbam explains that it's not normal because a righty would be very uncomfortable trying to eat with his right hand while leaning right. If so, asks the Maharal, what about a lefty -- why is a lefty required to lean on his left side, putting himself in a position of discomfiture, when a righty is exempt from leaning right for that same reason? Why is a lefty not completely patur (he can't lean right, because that would be dangerous; he can't lean left, as that's not derech cheirus for him)?
Without Rav Wahrman's chiddush I would say the answer to the Maharal's question is that Chazal made a takanah based on whatever the convention of the majority of the populace was. Leftys always have this problem of being ignored -- just ask one. School desks are made to accommodate a right handed writer; cars have controls positioned better for right-handed drivers, etc. Rav Wahrman however answers based on his two dinim model: Even if leaning right is not derech cheirus for a lefty, he must still lean to fulfill his obligation of re-enacting Bnei Yisrael's behavior when they left Egypt.
I'm not sure I get it. Why is the behavior of the right-handed people who left Egypt the model all future generations must imitate? Surely there were leftys who left Egypt -- which way did they lean? Why can't a lefty imitate his lefty forefathers? If the answer is that the takanah is modeled after the majority of the populace, I don't see what Rav Wahrman gains in his answer over mine.
There is an even bigger hole in Rav Wahrman's theory when it comes to explaining why women are exempt from haseiba. The Sheiltos (quoted in Rashbam) writes that since women normally do not eat while reclining, their haseiba would not be an expression of derech cheirus and they are therefore pturos. But if reclining is more than a cultural symbol, if it is also a re-enactment of Yetziyas Mitzrayim and therefore divorced from cultural norms, why are women exempt? Rav Wahrman asks this question and attempts to resolve it, but unfortunately I do not yet understand what he means.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
anticipating the future
As we've discussed before, Parshas haChodesh has actually very little to do with Rosh Chodesh. After the first two pesukim, the rest of the parsha deals with the laws of the korban Pesach, with the first seder ever conducted. Why did the Torah even need to introduce the laws of Rosh Chodesh here instead of at mattan Torah?
There is a basic difference between Shabbos and Rosh Chodesh. Shabbos is the culmination of the work week. Chazal tell us that only someone who prepares on erev Shabbos, who uses the time before Shabbos properly, will eat on Shabbos. If you see a nice roast in the market on Monday, you should put it aside for Shabbos in advance. You are even allowed to do work to prepare for Shabbos before davening on Friday because there is a mitzvah of kavod Shabbos to prepare for Shabbos. Not so Rosh Chodesh, which is celebrated in anticipation of the month ahead, not as a culmination of what already took place.
There is a minhag quoted in Shulchan Aruch for women not to do work on Rosh Chodesh. According to the Da'as Zekeinim in last week's parsha women earned this reward because they gave their jewelry to the Mishkan, which was erected on Rosh Chodesh. The mirrors which the women used in Mitzrayim to show their husbands their beauty and encourage them to have children and not give up hope were incorporated into the making of the kiyor. This anticipation of the future geulah symbolized by those mirrors is the hallmark of Rosh Chodesh, the holiday of anticipation of what is yet to come. R' Tzadok haKohen explains that the renewal of the moon on Rosh Chodesh symbolizes the renewal of malchus beis David. Women already celebrate the day as a Yom Tov because to them the future geulah is real, their anticipation makes it seems as if geulah is already here, even if b'poel it has not happened yet.
Bnei Yisrael were bereft of mitzvos and merits when the time came for their geulah. Therefore, explains the Shem m'Shmuel, Hashem gave them the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, which illustrates that it's not just what you have done in the past that counts in your favor, but it's what's coming in the future as well.
There is a basic difference between Shabbos and Rosh Chodesh. Shabbos is the culmination of the work week. Chazal tell us that only someone who prepares on erev Shabbos, who uses the time before Shabbos properly, will eat on Shabbos. If you see a nice roast in the market on Monday, you should put it aside for Shabbos in advance. You are even allowed to do work to prepare for Shabbos before davening on Friday because there is a mitzvah of kavod Shabbos to prepare for Shabbos. Not so Rosh Chodesh, which is celebrated in anticipation of the month ahead, not as a culmination of what already took place.
There is a minhag quoted in Shulchan Aruch for women not to do work on Rosh Chodesh. According to the Da'as Zekeinim in last week's parsha women earned this reward because they gave their jewelry to the Mishkan, which was erected on Rosh Chodesh. The mirrors which the women used in Mitzrayim to show their husbands their beauty and encourage them to have children and not give up hope were incorporated into the making of the kiyor. This anticipation of the future geulah symbolized by those mirrors is the hallmark of Rosh Chodesh, the holiday of anticipation of what is yet to come. R' Tzadok haKohen explains that the renewal of the moon on Rosh Chodesh symbolizes the renewal of malchus beis David. Women already celebrate the day as a Yom Tov because to them the future geulah is real, their anticipation makes it seems as if geulah is already here, even if b'poel it has not happened yet.
Bnei Yisrael were bereft of mitzvos and merits when the time came for their geulah. Therefore, explains the Shem m'Shmuel, Hashem gave them the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, which illustrates that it's not just what you have done in the past that counts in your favor, but it's what's coming in the future as well.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
hakri'ah v'hakedusha
The list of gedolim in the hospital grows longer each day. The Vizhnitzer is gone. Now R' Scheinberg is gone. What happened in France is just the latest indication of the return of European anti-semitism in its most vile form. Is there any good news to talk about? Our community leaders should be screaming day and night for people to wake up, yet everyone continues somnambulating through the day as usual. Ho hum.
In the "it boggles my mind" category we also have this story: A Jew is refusing to testify against a fellow Jew because he does not want to violate the issur of mesira, so the court is going to hold a hearing to decide whether to hold him in contempt and jail him for as long as 18 months. This is not the place to debate the parameters of mesira -- suffice it to say he certainly has a halachic leg to stand on; he asked a shayla to whomever he asked and got a psak not to testify. What's not to laud about sticking to your "steadfast beliefs" (as the newspaper described it)? It sounds so noble. It must take real mesirus nefesh to risk jail time, to go to court and say to the judge (as quoted in the story), "Because the transgression of mesira is so dire, my mind won’t change until I die.” One small problem: The same guy already served an earlier prison sentence for tax-evasion! Apparently this Yid's "steadfast beliefs" include mesira but not theft. Maybe tax evasion does not rank up there in the "dire" transgression category. I know what some of you are thinking -- there's honor among thieves after all, as the guy won't rat out his friend! Is this the nobility that the Torah has in mind when it says that the nations will say, "Rak am chacham v'navom hhagoy hagadol hazeh"? The ba'alei mussar speak of the ohr and choshech that exist at the same time, mixed up in the same person, b'irbuvya. Exhibit A right here.
Somehow we have to get into a better frame of mind for Shabbos and to welcome chodesh Nisan. Why were the halachos of korban pesach given on rosh chodesh even though the korban was only taken on the tenth of the month? The Shem m'Shmuel writes that these 10 days parallel the aseres ymei teshuvah. One doesn't just walk into pesach -- it requires tremendous preparation, cleaning and scrubbing the neshoma as well as the home. Maybe all these tzaros are there to push us to really focus on what is significant during these ten important days.
The Midrash contrasts the first pasuk of our parsha, "Vayikra el Moshe," with "Vayikra eilav malach," by Avraham after the akeidah. The former calling was done by Hashem himself; the latter by an angel. What difference does it make who did the calling, the kri'ah? In both cases the dibur that followed, the subsequent words and message, was spoken by Hashem. Does it matter if the invitation to a meeting with the King comes by messenger, by fedex, by e-mail, or by telegram? Shem m'Shmuel answers that kri'ah is not just an invitation -- it's the inspiration that readies a person to receive the king's message. One cannot compare the inspiration and preparation to receive the dvar Hashem that comes through a malach, as great a level as that may be, with the inspiration that comes from Hashem himself.
Why do we say "tzeischem l'shalom" to the malachim on Friday night? Because when Shabbos comes the kri'ah to us, the inspiration and readiness to receive the dvar Hashem that will follow, is higher even than what the malachim can help us reach. "Tzeischem l'shalom," thank you malachim for your help this past week, but now it's Shabbos, we can take it ourselves. Kal v'chomer Shabbos Rosh Chodesh Nissan.
Even though it's usually not my cup of tea (my math phobia doesn't mix with fancy gematriyos), this week I just feel we should learn some torah from Vizhnitz (a non-gematriya piece : ). We are IY"H going to say in hallel, "Ana Hashem ki ani avdecha, ani avdicha ben amasecha pitachta l'moseiray" -- Please Hashem, I am your servant, I am your servant the son of your maidservant, you released the bonds that held me. The repetition is obvious: First we say "Ani avdecha," and then we repeat again, "Ani avdicha ben amasecha." What is the meaning behind our repetition of these nearly-identical phrases?
The Imrei Baruch of Vizhnitz writes that when he stood before the amud to say hallel the first time after the passing of his father, he realized his own inadequacy to fill the void left by his father's passing. Here, in the spot his saintly father stood, before the amud at which his saintly father davened, he dared stand as a m'maleh makom to serve in his place -- how could he?!
He answers by quoting a mashal: One day a king was walking outside his castle and happened upon a poor nobody sitting there in the squalor. The king doesn't pay attention to such things and was about to pass by, but that nobody suddenly began to call out to him. "Do you know who I am?" asked the voice. "I'm Ploni, the son of your trusted advisor!" The King was shocked. It would be an embarrassment not only for the advisor, but for it would be a personal embarrassment for the king himself if the son of such a close confidant were left in such a state. The king ordered that Ploni be taken and cleaned up, fed, dressed, and given a place of honor in his court.
"Ana Hashem," we say, "Please Hashem forgive our absolute chutzpa in daring to utter the words 'Ki ani avdecha.'" Who are we kidding -- it doesn't really fit us, we don't really measure up. We are nothing compared with those who came before us. But before you get angry at us, before you walk away, can we bother you for a minute and remind you of who we are? "Ani avdicha ben amasecha," we are the children of those who have earned a place of honor in your court and who do deserve to be listened to.
Not in our own merit, but in theirs, lift us up, untie our bonds.
In the "it boggles my mind" category we also have this story: A Jew is refusing to testify against a fellow Jew because he does not want to violate the issur of mesira, so the court is going to hold a hearing to decide whether to hold him in contempt and jail him for as long as 18 months. This is not the place to debate the parameters of mesira -- suffice it to say he certainly has a halachic leg to stand on; he asked a shayla to whomever he asked and got a psak not to testify. What's not to laud about sticking to your "steadfast beliefs" (as the newspaper described it)? It sounds so noble. It must take real mesirus nefesh to risk jail time, to go to court and say to the judge (as quoted in the story), "Because the transgression of mesira is so dire, my mind won’t change until I die.” One small problem: The same guy already served an earlier prison sentence for tax-evasion! Apparently this Yid's "steadfast beliefs" include mesira but not theft. Maybe tax evasion does not rank up there in the "dire" transgression category. I know what some of you are thinking -- there's honor among thieves after all, as the guy won't rat out his friend! Is this the nobility that the Torah has in mind when it says that the nations will say, "Rak am chacham v'navom hhagoy hagadol hazeh"? The ba'alei mussar speak of the ohr and choshech that exist at the same time, mixed up in the same person, b'irbuvya. Exhibit A right here.
Somehow we have to get into a better frame of mind for Shabbos and to welcome chodesh Nisan. Why were the halachos of korban pesach given on rosh chodesh even though the korban was only taken on the tenth of the month? The Shem m'Shmuel writes that these 10 days parallel the aseres ymei teshuvah. One doesn't just walk into pesach -- it requires tremendous preparation, cleaning and scrubbing the neshoma as well as the home. Maybe all these tzaros are there to push us to really focus on what is significant during these ten important days.
The Midrash contrasts the first pasuk of our parsha, "Vayikra el Moshe," with "Vayikra eilav malach," by Avraham after the akeidah. The former calling was done by Hashem himself; the latter by an angel. What difference does it make who did the calling, the kri'ah? In both cases the dibur that followed, the subsequent words and message, was spoken by Hashem. Does it matter if the invitation to a meeting with the King comes by messenger, by fedex, by e-mail, or by telegram? Shem m'Shmuel answers that kri'ah is not just an invitation -- it's the inspiration that readies a person to receive the king's message. One cannot compare the inspiration and preparation to receive the dvar Hashem that comes through a malach, as great a level as that may be, with the inspiration that comes from Hashem himself.
Why do we say "tzeischem l'shalom" to the malachim on Friday night? Because when Shabbos comes the kri'ah to us, the inspiration and readiness to receive the dvar Hashem that will follow, is higher even than what the malachim can help us reach. "Tzeischem l'shalom," thank you malachim for your help this past week, but now it's Shabbos, we can take it ourselves. Kal v'chomer Shabbos Rosh Chodesh Nissan.
Even though it's usually not my cup of tea (my math phobia doesn't mix with fancy gematriyos), this week I just feel we should learn some torah from Vizhnitz (a non-gematriya piece : ). We are IY"H going to say in hallel, "Ana Hashem ki ani avdecha, ani avdicha ben amasecha pitachta l'moseiray" -- Please Hashem, I am your servant, I am your servant the son of your maidservant, you released the bonds that held me. The repetition is obvious: First we say "Ani avdecha," and then we repeat again, "Ani avdicha ben amasecha." What is the meaning behind our repetition of these nearly-identical phrases?
The Imrei Baruch of Vizhnitz writes that when he stood before the amud to say hallel the first time after the passing of his father, he realized his own inadequacy to fill the void left by his father's passing. Here, in the spot his saintly father stood, before the amud at which his saintly father davened, he dared stand as a m'maleh makom to serve in his place -- how could he?!
He answers by quoting a mashal: One day a king was walking outside his castle and happened upon a poor nobody sitting there in the squalor. The king doesn't pay attention to such things and was about to pass by, but that nobody suddenly began to call out to him. "Do you know who I am?" asked the voice. "I'm Ploni, the son of your trusted advisor!" The King was shocked. It would be an embarrassment not only for the advisor, but for it would be a personal embarrassment for the king himself if the son of such a close confidant were left in such a state. The king ordered that Ploni be taken and cleaned up, fed, dressed, and given a place of honor in his court.
"Ana Hashem," we say, "Please Hashem forgive our absolute chutzpa in daring to utter the words 'Ki ani avdecha.'" Who are we kidding -- it doesn't really fit us, we don't really measure up. We are nothing compared with those who came before us. But before you get angry at us, before you walk away, can we bother you for a minute and remind you of who we are? "Ani avdicha ben amasecha," we are the children of those who have earned a place of honor in your court and who do deserve to be listened to.
Not in our own merit, but in theirs, lift us up, untie our bonds.
Monday, March 19, 2012
parah - undoing the cheit of eitz hada'as
Ashes of the parah adumah are used to make someone who has come in contact with a dead body tahor. Yet, these same ashes cause someone tahor who handles them to become tamei. Even Shlomo haMelech could not understand the paradoxical nature of this mitzvah. It is "chukas haTorah," a mystery.
Sefas Emes explains that death came into the world as a punishment for Adam's sin of eating of the eitz ha'adas, the tree of knowledge. The way to undo the taint of death that resulted from succumbing to the temptation for knowledge is to obey G-d even when his commands seem to defy reason and understanding. The most unfathomable chok is therefore the greatest metaheir.
I would put the idea this way: When a person relies on the eitz ha'da'as alone, on reason to the exclusion of all else, something within that person dies. Life can't be boiled down to equations alone, and to do so kills something of the human spirit. If one is willing to surrender and accept that there is more out there than our little mind's can fathom, that taint vanishes -- a person can live larger than the confines of his/her physical self and is not chained to the decomposing piece of flesh we all eventually become.
Sefas Emes explains that death came into the world as a punishment for Adam's sin of eating of the eitz ha'adas, the tree of knowledge. The way to undo the taint of death that resulted from succumbing to the temptation for knowledge is to obey G-d even when his commands seem to defy reason and understanding. The most unfathomable chok is therefore the greatest metaheir.
I would put the idea this way: When a person relies on the eitz ha'da'as alone, on reason to the exclusion of all else, something within that person dies. Life can't be boiled down to equations alone, and to do so kills something of the human spirit. If one is willing to surrender and accept that there is more out there than our little mind's can fathom, that taint vanishes -- a person can live larger than the confines of his/her physical self and is not chained to the decomposing piece of flesh we all eventually become.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
the testimony of the mishkan
"Eileh pekudei hamishkan, mishkan ha'eidus..." Rashi comments that the Mishkan is called "mishkan ha'eidus", the tent of testimony, because it was built to stand as a testimony to the fact that Hashem forgave Bnei Yisrael for the sin of the eigel.
The meforshei Rashi ask why the mishkan in particular was needed to testify to Hashem's forgiveness of Bnei Yisrael. Didn't the fact that Hashem gave the luchos a second time demonstrate his forgiveness? Maharal in Gur Arye offers two answers:
1) Torah is a necessity; it doesn't demonstrate the added love that comes with forgiveness. Let me give you an analogy: Can you imagine a parent boasting of the love he/she shows for his/her child by providing that child with food, with water, with a room to sleep in (I'm thinking of a Harry Potter-like crawlspace)? That's not love -- even prisoners in Alcatraz get that much! These are basic necessities for survival. In the same way, Torah is our chiyus, it's necessary for our survival as well. Mitzvos lav le'henos nitnu -- Maharal explains elsewhere that mitzvos are supposed to be a burden. I don't think he means that mitzvos are not supposed to be enjoyable, but rather what he means is that the motivation to do mitzvos should not be personal enjoyment. Mitzvos should be done out of a sense of necessity, because we can't live without them, just as we can't live without eating, drinking, breathing.
The giving of the luchos was necessary simply to ensure the survival of Klal Yisrael -- we cannot exist without Torah. The Mishkan demonstrated that added gift of Hashem's love.
2) Midrashim compare the sin of the eigel to an act of infidelity committed by a bride on the day of chupah/kiddushin. A sotah, a woman who has been unfaithful, is not permitted to live with her husband. To show that our sin was forgiven, Hashem had to show that he could again live with us again in the same home. The Mishkan is that shared home -- it is the dwelling place for the Shechina and ourselves.
Implicit in this answer is the assumption that Torah alone is not a testament to the presence of the Shechina. In other words, a person can be involved in Torah and still not be connected to the Shechina. The truth is that Chazal already tell us that there can be a disconnect between learning and being close to Hashem: Halevay osi azavu v'torasi shamaru... Hashem says that so long as we don't abandon Torah, even if we abandon him, we will find a way back -- clearly, one can have a connection to Torah without having a connection to Hashem. The former may lead eventually to the latter, but they are not one and the same.
It's not enough to connect to Torah alone; we need to build that dwelling place to share with the Shechina.
The meforshei Rashi ask why the mishkan in particular was needed to testify to Hashem's forgiveness of Bnei Yisrael. Didn't the fact that Hashem gave the luchos a second time demonstrate his forgiveness? Maharal in Gur Arye offers two answers:
1) Torah is a necessity; it doesn't demonstrate the added love that comes with forgiveness. Let me give you an analogy: Can you imagine a parent boasting of the love he/she shows for his/her child by providing that child with food, with water, with a room to sleep in (I'm thinking of a Harry Potter-like crawlspace)? That's not love -- even prisoners in Alcatraz get that much! These are basic necessities for survival. In the same way, Torah is our chiyus, it's necessary for our survival as well. Mitzvos lav le'henos nitnu -- Maharal explains elsewhere that mitzvos are supposed to be a burden. I don't think he means that mitzvos are not supposed to be enjoyable, but rather what he means is that the motivation to do mitzvos should not be personal enjoyment. Mitzvos should be done out of a sense of necessity, because we can't live without them, just as we can't live without eating, drinking, breathing.
The giving of the luchos was necessary simply to ensure the survival of Klal Yisrael -- we cannot exist without Torah. The Mishkan demonstrated that added gift of Hashem's love.
2) Midrashim compare the sin of the eigel to an act of infidelity committed by a bride on the day of chupah/kiddushin. A sotah, a woman who has been unfaithful, is not permitted to live with her husband. To show that our sin was forgiven, Hashem had to show that he could again live with us again in the same home. The Mishkan is that shared home -- it is the dwelling place for the Shechina and ourselves.
Implicit in this answer is the assumption that Torah alone is not a testament to the presence of the Shechina. In other words, a person can be involved in Torah and still not be connected to the Shechina. The truth is that Chazal already tell us that there can be a disconnect between learning and being close to Hashem: Halevay osi azavu v'torasi shamaru... Hashem says that so long as we don't abandon Torah, even if we abandon him, we will find a way back -- clearly, one can have a connection to Torah without having a connection to Hashem. The former may lead eventually to the latter, but they are not one and the same.
It's not enough to connect to Torah alone; we need to build that dwelling place to share with the Shechina.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
two books worth reading
I want to recommend two books I read recently that are really worth your time. Both were available from my public library's system, so they are not too hard to get. The first is Listening to G-d: Inspirational Stories by Rabbi Shlomo Riskin. Presented as a series of stories that R' Riskin wants to relate to his grandchildren, the book touches on autobiographical highlights in Rav Riskin's life. We read of R' Riskin's childhood and his eventual decision to enter the rabbinate, his trials in turning Lincoln Square a thriving Orthodox synagogue, his efforts on behalf of Soviet Jewry, his teaching experience at YU, and finally his eventual aliya and experiences in Eretz Yisrael. Aside from Rav Riskin's personal story, what I found most moving was the stories he tells of others: the Chabad shliach risking all to teach Torah in a basement in the Soviet Union; the Soviet refugee who he helped escape to who then turns his back on Juda to marry a non-jew -- years later he meets the family and discovers that the wife has undergone giyur and they live as Vishnitzer chassidim; his childhood memory of the Sanz-Klausenberger Rebbe telling his ba'al koreh to not lower his voice while reading the tochacha, as there was nothing to be afraid of after experiencing the Holocaust; stories of the people and soldiers of Eretz Yisrael who are willing to sacrifice all for the sake of our homeland; his encounters with the Rav, with the Lubavitcher Rebbe -- I could go on and on. In short, it's the story of a remarkable man who has accomplished remarkable things.
The second is Out of the Depths: The Story of a Child of Buchenwald Who Returned Home at Last by Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau. (The book is a translation of the Hebrew MiMa'amakim.) There are so many parts of this book that will literally move you to tears that I don't even know where to begin. The experiences of R' Lau during the Holocaust haunt his entire life, but I think it would be unfair to say that this is a book about the horrors of the shoah alone. It is a book about heroism -- how a child torn from his family and home and exposed to the most traumatic circumstances is not only able to survive, but is able to become a talmid chacham, build a family of his own, and provide inspiration to others in his role as a Rav and later Rav haRoshi of Eretz Yisrael.
One of my children is currently reading Eli Wiesel's Night as part of a unit her school is doing on the Holocaust. While Night is certainly a powerful book worth reading (and is even part of many a public school curriculum), I think she and her class would be better served reading Rav Lau's book. I have not read Night in many years, but from what I recall, I think it provides a more complete picture of the circumstances of concentration camp life than Rav Lau's book does. However, while I don't c'v mean to diminish the importance of preserving the memory of what happened in any way, I think students also need to ask themselves what the memory of the past does for them -- what does it mean for their future and for our future as a people? I also believe any discussion of the Holocaust is incomplete without a discussion of the rise of the State of Israel, the two greatest events in Jewish history on the past century if not the past 2000 years. Rav Lau's story does not end with the shoah; that is just the starting point to the life he builds. The world of Polish Jewry that shaped his childhood memories is the inspiration that pulls him to building his future, to raising a family in Eretz Yisrael, to dedicating himself to rabbanus (before being taken to be killed, his father charged his brother with the job of preserving R' Lau's life so he could be the next link in the 37-generation long chain of rabbanim that have come from their family). Rav Lau is a model of how to grow from tragedy, how the legacy of the past can shape how we relate to the present and inspire great accomplishments.
Parenthetically, there were three or four people (gedolim) in particular who Rav Lau singles out as great inspirational figures in his life (post WWII). I won't give away the names -- I'll let you take a guess at who they were. Hint: One name was also a great inspiration for Rav Riskin as well. One I don't think anyone will get.
Let me leave you with one story from Rav Riskin's book (and again, there are so many anecdotes in both books that are gems; this is just one at random). When he was younger, Rav Riskin spent a summer in Eretz Yisrael and had the opportunity to be in Ponevich for Elul. He developed a connection with the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Kahaneman, which he maintained over the years. When Rav Kahaneman would visit America, Rav Riskin would often host the Rosh Yeshiva. Once, when Rab Kahaneman was already older and had to be hospitalized in NY, Rav Riskin came to visit and found him feeling depressed. Trying to elevate the Rosh Yeshiva's spirits, Rav Riskin started to talk about how much R' Kahaneman had been able to accomplish in his lifetime, his literal rebuilding an empire of Torah after making it through the war. He remarked that while most people barely accomplish 10% of their dreams, Rav Kahaneman surely had been able to accomplish much more.
"Not at all," said the Rosh Yeshiva. "I just dream bigger dreams."
The second is Out of the Depths: The Story of a Child of Buchenwald Who Returned Home at Last by Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau. (The book is a translation of the Hebrew MiMa'amakim.) There are so many parts of this book that will literally move you to tears that I don't even know where to begin. The experiences of R' Lau during the Holocaust haunt his entire life, but I think it would be unfair to say that this is a book about the horrors of the shoah alone. It is a book about heroism -- how a child torn from his family and home and exposed to the most traumatic circumstances is not only able to survive, but is able to become a talmid chacham, build a family of his own, and provide inspiration to others in his role as a Rav and later Rav haRoshi of Eretz Yisrael.
One of my children is currently reading Eli Wiesel's Night as part of a unit her school is doing on the Holocaust. While Night is certainly a powerful book worth reading (and is even part of many a public school curriculum), I think she and her class would be better served reading Rav Lau's book. I have not read Night in many years, but from what I recall, I think it provides a more complete picture of the circumstances of concentration camp life than Rav Lau's book does. However, while I don't c'v mean to diminish the importance of preserving the memory of what happened in any way, I think students also need to ask themselves what the memory of the past does for them -- what does it mean for their future and for our future as a people? I also believe any discussion of the Holocaust is incomplete without a discussion of the rise of the State of Israel, the two greatest events in Jewish history on the past century if not the past 2000 years. Rav Lau's story does not end with the shoah; that is just the starting point to the life he builds. The world of Polish Jewry that shaped his childhood memories is the inspiration that pulls him to building his future, to raising a family in Eretz Yisrael, to dedicating himself to rabbanus (before being taken to be killed, his father charged his brother with the job of preserving R' Lau's life so he could be the next link in the 37-generation long chain of rabbanim that have come from their family). Rav Lau is a model of how to grow from tragedy, how the legacy of the past can shape how we relate to the present and inspire great accomplishments.
Parenthetically, there were three or four people (gedolim) in particular who Rav Lau singles out as great inspirational figures in his life (post WWII). I won't give away the names -- I'll let you take a guess at who they were. Hint: One name was also a great inspiration for Rav Riskin as well. One I don't think anyone will get.
Let me leave you with one story from Rav Riskin's book (and again, there are so many anecdotes in both books that are gems; this is just one at random). When he was younger, Rav Riskin spent a summer in Eretz Yisrael and had the opportunity to be in Ponevich for Elul. He developed a connection with the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Kahaneman, which he maintained over the years. When Rav Kahaneman would visit America, Rav Riskin would often host the Rosh Yeshiva. Once, when Rab Kahaneman was already older and had to be hospitalized in NY, Rav Riskin came to visit and found him feeling depressed. Trying to elevate the Rosh Yeshiva's spirits, Rav Riskin started to talk about how much R' Kahaneman had been able to accomplish in his lifetime, his literal rebuilding an empire of Torah after making it through the war. He remarked that while most people barely accomplish 10% of their dreams, Rav Kahaneman surely had been able to accomplish much more.
"Not at all," said the Rosh Yeshiva. "I just dream bigger dreams."
Monday, March 12, 2012
R' Raphael Sorotzkin on the cheit ha'eigel
Moshe Rabeinu was told on Har Sinai "Lech reid ki shiches amcha...," that he must go back down to earth (probably in a spiritual as well as a physical sense) because Klal Yisrael had made an eigel hazahav. So why is it that when Moshe descends, he drops the luchos from his hands, as if shocked by the scene he witnesses? What did he expect? After all, he had been given fair warning of what was going on.
My wife suggested that this illustrates the idea of "aino domeh she'miya l'reiya," that one cannot compare hearing about something to seeing the actual event. Even knowledge of an event revealed directly by Hashem cannot compare to actually seeing it.
Rav Raphael Sorotzkin in his HaBinah V'HaBracha offers two other answers, both of which carry important lessons:
1. Moshe Rabeinu interpreted "shiches amcha" to mean the people had rebelled against Hashem and Torah and mitzvos. Had that been the case, Moshe would have been non-plussed, as he was confident that he could convince Klal Yisrael to return. What he discovered, however, was that Bnei Yisrael did not think they were rejecting Torah -- to the contrary, they thought that through worship of the eigel they were actually being mekayeim the ratzon Hashem (see Ramban). The eigel "movement" was not a rejection of Torah, but a falsification of Torah. It required breaking the luchos to dramatically demonstrate that the path they were on was in fact a destruction of everything we believe.
2. Moshe Rabeinu interpreted "shiches amcha" to mean that the people had made a philosophical error; their sin was one of emunos v'deyos. He was convinced that when he returned with the Torah, he could correct whatever misguided thinking had led them astray. However, when Moshe came down, "Vayar es ha'eigel u'mecholos," he saw not only the eigel, but he saw the celebration taking place around the eigel, the gluttonous orgy that accompanied eigel worship. Moshe Rabeinu realized that it was not a misguided philosophy that was the root of the problem -- that was just a smokescreen -- but rather it was simply ta'avah, desire, that motivated them. You can't fight ta'avah with philosophical arguments.
My wife suggested that this illustrates the idea of "aino domeh she'miya l'reiya," that one cannot compare hearing about something to seeing the actual event. Even knowledge of an event revealed directly by Hashem cannot compare to actually seeing it.
Rav Raphael Sorotzkin in his HaBinah V'HaBracha offers two other answers, both of which carry important lessons:
1. Moshe Rabeinu interpreted "shiches amcha" to mean the people had rebelled against Hashem and Torah and mitzvos. Had that been the case, Moshe would have been non-plussed, as he was confident that he could convince Klal Yisrael to return. What he discovered, however, was that Bnei Yisrael did not think they were rejecting Torah -- to the contrary, they thought that through worship of the eigel they were actually being mekayeim the ratzon Hashem (see Ramban). The eigel "movement" was not a rejection of Torah, but a falsification of Torah. It required breaking the luchos to dramatically demonstrate that the path they were on was in fact a destruction of everything we believe.
2. Moshe Rabeinu interpreted "shiches amcha" to mean that the people had made a philosophical error; their sin was one of emunos v'deyos. He was convinced that when he returned with the Torah, he could correct whatever misguided thinking had led them astray. However, when Moshe came down, "Vayar es ha'eigel u'mecholos," he saw not only the eigel, but he saw the celebration taking place around the eigel, the gluttonous orgy that accompanied eigel worship. Moshe Rabeinu realized that it was not a misguided philosophy that was the root of the problem -- that was just a smokescreen -- but rather it was simply ta'avah, desire, that motivated them. You can't fight ta'avah with philosophical arguments.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
Mordechai lo yichra v'lo yishtachaveh -- future tense
The Torah avoids spelling out specifics about events that will occur in the future because were the Torah to say what will occur, then those events will inevitably happen and there would no longer be an opportunity for bechira. (R' Tzadok HaKohen explains that Avraham is credited for his affirmation of belief in the promise of children and yerushas ha'aretz he received in Parshas Lech Lecha, "Vayachshevaha lo tzedaka," because it required his trusting that nothing his children or grandchildren would do would interfere with that promise being fulfilled -- Klal Yisrael's destiny transcends bechira.)
This is why perhaps the most remarkable pasuk in the megillah is, " Mordechai lo yichra v'lo yishtachaveh." The pasuk is written in future tense -- Mordechai will not bow down. It's a promise of what will happen, not just a report of what did happen. No matter that every individual has free choice to decide whether or not to bow to Haman. There will always be someone, that Mordechai hatzadik, who will remain standing and not give in.
Sefas Emes explains that the future tense is used because the megillah is speaking to all future generations. In every time and place there will always be a Mordechai who will not bow his head. The megillah does not at first tell us Mordechai's name. Our hero is introduced with the generic appellation "ish yehudi," a Jewish man, a somebody -- "Ish yehudi haya b'Shushan habirah...." That "ish yehudi" could be anyone. In those days he happened to be named Mordechai, but in another time and another place he could have some other identity, some other name -- but he will always be with us.
This is why Haman wanted to destroy the entire Jewish nation. Haman realized that Mordechai is the yotzei min ha'klal that is melamed al ha'klal, the exception that proves the rule. Were he just to defeat this Mordechai, there would be just be another Mordechai, another ish yehudi, who would step up and take his place.
This is why perhaps the most remarkable pasuk in the megillah is, " Mordechai lo yichra v'lo yishtachaveh." The pasuk is written in future tense -- Mordechai will not bow down. It's a promise of what will happen, not just a report of what did happen. No matter that every individual has free choice to decide whether or not to bow to Haman. There will always be someone, that Mordechai hatzadik, who will remain standing and not give in.
Sefas Emes explains that the future tense is used because the megillah is speaking to all future generations. In every time and place there will always be a Mordechai who will not bow his head. The megillah does not at first tell us Mordechai's name. Our hero is introduced with the generic appellation "ish yehudi," a Jewish man, a somebody -- "Ish yehudi haya b'Shushan habirah...." That "ish yehudi" could be anyone. In those days he happened to be named Mordechai, but in another time and another place he could have some other identity, some other name -- but he will always be with us.
This is why Haman wanted to destroy the entire Jewish nation. Haman realized that Mordechai is the yotzei min ha'klal that is melamed al ha'klal, the exception that proves the rule. Were he just to defeat this Mordechai, there would be just be another Mordechai, another ish yehudi, who would step up and take his place.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
why Esther did not reveal her identity right away
When Mordechai told Esther to go to Achashveirosh to plead on behalf of the Jewish people, she replied that she had not been called to the king for thirty day. Anyone who appeared before the king without being called risked being killed (4:11). Mordechai responded by reiterating his demand that Esther go, as the Jewish people were in grave danger. Was Esther really more concerned for her personal safety than the plight of the nation? Of course not. The Vilna Gaon explains that Esther was telling Mordechai that precisely because she had not been called into an audience with the king in thirty days, therefore, the king was bound to call her in sometime very soon. She was not trying to avoid carrying out Mordechai's mission -- she was telling Mordechai that if he would only wait a short time she could carry out that mission with no danger to herself.
Why then did Mordechai demand that she act immediately? R' Chaim Kaneivsky in his Ta'ama d'Kra explains the Mordechai held that the fear and stress caused by the impending danger was itself a life threatening. Living in a precarious situation can cause a person to collapse. Therefore, Esther needed to act immediately.
I don't want to get bogged down in current events, but history does repeat itself. With respect to Iran's nuclear weapon threat, we hear voices saying to just wait some time before acting -- give economic sanctions (which have not worked until now) time to work, give diplomacy (which has accomplished nothing until now) a chance, etc. These voices fail to appreciate that living with danger is itself dangerous. Even if someone knows that the trigger won't be pulled until some point in the future, no person can stand by calmly and idly while a maniac waves a gun at his/her head without going crazy from nervous tension.
Returning to the megillah, the truth is that Esther did not act right away. Despite the fact that she now understood the immediacy of the danger, Esther still delayed for three days during which time Mordechai and Klal Yisrael fasted and davened with her. A very important yesod: Sakanah does not demand any action be taken in response -- it demands effective action that will eliminate or mitigate the danger. Action without tefilah, without first asking Hashem for help, is guaranteed to not be effective.
So I take back the first sentence of the previous paragraph. Esther did act immediately to reduce the danger, as the first and most important step in any crisis is to be mispallel. That set the wheels of her success in motion, as it triggered the needed siyata d'shemaya.
And this too applies to current events as well...
Since I mentioned R' Chaim Kanievsky's Ta'ama d'Kra, I want to point out what seems to me to be a remarkable chiddush that he says. There are various reasons offered in the commentaries as to why Mordechai told Esther not to reveal that she was a member of Klal Yisrael. R' Chaim suggests as follows: Were Esther's nationality to be known, no one would dare act against her or her people and Haman's plot would never have gotten off the ground. Now, you or I might think this is a great thing, but that's why you and I are not Mordechai. Mordechai knew that Klal Yisrael deserved to be punished for their having partaken of Achashveirosh's party. If Haman's plot or some other plot never stood a chance, then the punishment for Klal Yisrael would come purely b'ydei shamayim, at the hands of Hashem through midas ha'din. Mordechai figured that it is better to allow some plot to develop, better to allow Haman the chance to put Klal Yisrael in danger (and then to undo that danger), than to foil that effort and risk punishment b'ydei shamayim. Haman's decree amounted to the lesser of two evils.
Why then did Mordechai demand that she act immediately? R' Chaim Kaneivsky in his Ta'ama d'Kra explains the Mordechai held that the fear and stress caused by the impending danger was itself a life threatening. Living in a precarious situation can cause a person to collapse. Therefore, Esther needed to act immediately.
I don't want to get bogged down in current events, but history does repeat itself. With respect to Iran's nuclear weapon threat, we hear voices saying to just wait some time before acting -- give economic sanctions (which have not worked until now) time to work, give diplomacy (which has accomplished nothing until now) a chance, etc. These voices fail to appreciate that living with danger is itself dangerous. Even if someone knows that the trigger won't be pulled until some point in the future, no person can stand by calmly and idly while a maniac waves a gun at his/her head without going crazy from nervous tension.
Returning to the megillah, the truth is that Esther did not act right away. Despite the fact that she now understood the immediacy of the danger, Esther still delayed for three days during which time Mordechai and Klal Yisrael fasted and davened with her. A very important yesod: Sakanah does not demand any action be taken in response -- it demands effective action that will eliminate or mitigate the danger. Action without tefilah, without first asking Hashem for help, is guaranteed to not be effective.
So I take back the first sentence of the previous paragraph. Esther did act immediately to reduce the danger, as the first and most important step in any crisis is to be mispallel. That set the wheels of her success in motion, as it triggered the needed siyata d'shemaya.
And this too applies to current events as well...
Since I mentioned R' Chaim Kanievsky's Ta'ama d'Kra, I want to point out what seems to me to be a remarkable chiddush that he says. There are various reasons offered in the commentaries as to why Mordechai told Esther not to reveal that she was a member of Klal Yisrael. R' Chaim suggests as follows: Were Esther's nationality to be known, no one would dare act against her or her people and Haman's plot would never have gotten off the ground. Now, you or I might think this is a great thing, but that's why you and I are not Mordechai. Mordechai knew that Klal Yisrael deserved to be punished for their having partaken of Achashveirosh's party. If Haman's plot or some other plot never stood a chance, then the punishment for Klal Yisrael would come purely b'ydei shamayim, at the hands of Hashem through midas ha'din. Mordechai figured that it is better to allow some plot to develop, better to allow Haman the chance to put Klal Yisrael in danger (and then to undo that danger), than to foil that effort and risk punishment b'ydei shamayim. Haman's decree amounted to the lesser of two evils.
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
mechila on mishloach manos -- Rav Asher Weiss' chiddush on why you are yotzei
The 5T-Far Rockaway community had the privilege of hosting R Asher Weiss on P' Terumah - Shekalim. On Motzei Shabbos he spoke at Shor Yoshuv on the topic of mishloach manos and hilchos Purim. One chiddush to give you a taste: The poskim point out two reasons given for the mitzvah of mishloach manos: 1) The Terumas haDeshen -- to provide food for seudas Purim; 2) The Manos haLevi -- to increase the feeling of brotherhood and camaraderie. The Rama paskens that one is yotzei mishloach manos even if the recipient is mochel or does not accept the mishloach manos. It is widely assumed (quoted in Chasam Sofer) that the Rama is a nafka minah between these two reasons. If the purpose of mishloach manos is to provide food for the seudah, then (lichorah) one has not accomplished anything if the recipient is mochel and not accepted the food. If the reason is to simply engender a sense of brotherhood, then the Rama makes sense -- it's the thought that counts more than the gift.
Rav Weiss thought it unlikely that the Rama really meant to pasken like the Manos haLevi against the Terumas haDeshen. Firstly, the Terumas haDeshen is one of the Rama's most frequently quoted sources for minhag Ashkenaz. Why would the Rama here suddenly abandon the Terumas haDeshen in favor of a Sefardic acharon (the Manos haLevi = R' Shlomo Alkebetz) who wrote his comment in the context of peirush hamikra and not halachic analysis? (R' Weiss even suggested that the Manos haLevi himself may himself have never meant his chiddush l'halacha.) Secondly, the Terumas haDeshen is well grounded in Rishonim. As we noted before, the Rambam places the din of mishloach manos in the context of his discussion of seudas Purim (Hil Megilah 2:16 -- keitzad chovas seudah zu....). Also, when it comes to the dinim of Purim meshulash, the Rishonim all write that mishloach manos is done on the same day that seudas Purim is eaten. There seems to be a strong link between mishloach manos and the seudah.
Therefore, R' Weiss suggested that even the Terumas haDeshen would agree with the din of the Rama. What the Rama meant is simply that Chazal could only make one responsible for sending gifts -- acceptance of delivery is out of a person's hand. You can't make a takanah for a person to do what is out of their hands to accomplish.
The Ksav Sofer discusses whether one is yotzei sending mishloach manos anonymously and suggests the issue hinges on the debate between the Manos haLevi and Terumas haDeshen. If the point of mishloach manos is to ensure someone has food, then the identity of the sender is irrelevant; if the point is to foster camaraderie, then knowing who sent the mishloach manos is critical -- how can you feel friendship with "anonymous" (a lesson for some of you who comment here ; )
Rav Weiss argued that even if one accept the approach of the Manos haLevi, the goal of enhancing comraderie is achieved even with an anonymous mishloach manos. The recipient can feel a closer bond of friendship with everyone, as anyone might be the sender. But in truth, there is no machlokes. The Terumas haDeshen's reason is m'ikar hadin the driving force behind the takanah of mishloach manos. The Manos haLevi is an added consideration, but not a reason to pasel any gift.
(I have omitted many aspects of the shiur, so any errors can be attributed to me, not Rav Weiss.)
Rav Weiss thought it unlikely that the Rama really meant to pasken like the Manos haLevi against the Terumas haDeshen. Firstly, the Terumas haDeshen is one of the Rama's most frequently quoted sources for minhag Ashkenaz. Why would the Rama here suddenly abandon the Terumas haDeshen in favor of a Sefardic acharon (the Manos haLevi = R' Shlomo Alkebetz) who wrote his comment in the context of peirush hamikra and not halachic analysis? (R' Weiss even suggested that the Manos haLevi himself may himself have never meant his chiddush l'halacha.) Secondly, the Terumas haDeshen is well grounded in Rishonim. As we noted before, the Rambam places the din of mishloach manos in the context of his discussion of seudas Purim (Hil Megilah 2:16 -- keitzad chovas seudah zu....). Also, when it comes to the dinim of Purim meshulash, the Rishonim all write that mishloach manos is done on the same day that seudas Purim is eaten. There seems to be a strong link between mishloach manos and the seudah.
Therefore, R' Weiss suggested that even the Terumas haDeshen would agree with the din of the Rama. What the Rama meant is simply that Chazal could only make one responsible for sending gifts -- acceptance of delivery is out of a person's hand. You can't make a takanah for a person to do what is out of their hands to accomplish.
The Ksav Sofer discusses whether one is yotzei sending mishloach manos anonymously and suggests the issue hinges on the debate between the Manos haLevi and Terumas haDeshen. If the point of mishloach manos is to ensure someone has food, then the identity of the sender is irrelevant; if the point is to foster camaraderie, then knowing who sent the mishloach manos is critical -- how can you feel friendship with "anonymous" (a lesson for some of you who comment here ; )
Rav Weiss argued that even if one accept the approach of the Manos haLevi, the goal of enhancing comraderie is achieved even with an anonymous mishloach manos. The recipient can feel a closer bond of friendship with everyone, as anyone might be the sender. But in truth, there is no machlokes. The Terumas haDeshen's reason is m'ikar hadin the driving force behind the takanah of mishloach manos. The Manos haLevi is an added consideration, but not a reason to pasel any gift.
(I have omitted many aspects of the shiur, so any errors can be attributed to me, not Rav Weiss.)
Monday, March 05, 2012
the indestructible zayis
Parshas Terumah is the story of the Mishkan as a building; Parshas TiTzaveh is the story of those who work in the Mishkan. The majority of the parsha describes the clothing of the kohanim and the appointment of the Levi'im , but it opens with the command to Moshe to personally involve himself in collecting pure olive oil for the lighting of the menorah. The Torah does not discuss any other aspect of avodah in the Mishkan here. Why should the olive oil for lighting the menorah be singled out for attention at this point?
The Midrash caught my eye:
ואתה תצוה הה"ד (ירמיה יא) זית רענן יפה פרי תואר קרא ה' שמך וכי לא נקראו ישראל אלא כזית הזה בלבד והלא בכל מיני אילנות נאים ומשובחים נקראו ישראל בגפן ותאנה שנאמר (תהלים פ) גפן ממצרים תסיע תאנה שנאמר (הושע ט) כבכורה בתאנה בראשיתה כתמר שנא' (שיר ז) זאת קומתך דמתה לתמר כארז שנא' (תהלים צב) כארז בלבנון ישגה כאגוז שנאמר (שיר ז) אל גנת אגוז ירדתי וקראן בכל מיני שלחים שנאמר (שם ד) שלחיך פרדס רמונים ובא ירמיה לומר זית רענן יפה פרי תואר אלא מה הזית הזה עד שהוא באילנו מגרגרין אותו ואח"כ מורידין אותו מן הזית ונחבט ומשחובטין אותו מעלין אותו לגת ונותנין אותן במטחן ואח"כ טוחנין אותן ואח"כ מקיפין אותן בחבלים ומביאין אבנים ואח"כ נותנין את שומנן כך ישראל באין עובדי כוכבים וחובטין אותם ממקום למקום וחובשים אותן וכופתין אותם בקולרין ומקיפין אותן טרטיוטין ואח"כ עושין תשובה והקב"ה עונה להם מנין שנא' (שמות ב) ויאנחו בני ישראל וכן (דברים ד) בצר לך ומצאוך כי אל רחום ה' אלהיך הוי זית רענן יפה פרי תואר.
At first glance the Midrash is simply using the mention of zayis, olives, in the parsha as an opportunity to expand on Yirmiyahu's comparison of Bnei Yisrael to the olive tree. This approach begs the question of why discuss this here -- why not any other place in the Torah that mentions zayis?
Therefore, I think Chazal had something else in mind. In the chapter of Yirmiyahu this pasuk is found in, the Navi berates Yisrael for their abandonment of their bris with Hashem. As a result, Hashem promises to visit severe punishment upon them. The pshat in the pasuk of "Zayis ra'anan yfei pri to'ar..." is that Bnei Yisrael used to be like a beautiful zayis tree, but those days are no more -- "Heitzis eish aleha...," Hashem promises to burn down the branches of that tree.
The derash paints a different picture. Bnei Yisrael are not the zayis ra'anan, the beautiful olive tree, only in the past tense, but the Navi is saying that even in the present tense, even in the midst of their punishment, even in the midst of Hashem burning down the tree, Bnei Yisrael remain that zayis ra'anan yfei pri to'ar. The forces that would destroy any other fruit bring out the best in the olive, the oil that can give light.
"V'Yikchu eilecha shemen zayis zach..." Moshe Rabeinu's personal attention was not necessary for the physical production of olive oil. Moshe Rabeinu needed to give his attention to the people who may have been like that crushed zayis. Those olives, those neshomos, had to be brought to Moshe to be reminded that za'ayis ra'anan yfei pri to'ar is an eternal promise (see Sefas Emes).
The Kohanim and Levi'im are the leaders of Klal Yisrael. The parsha of the zayis is the introduction to their appointment, the mission statement that defines their task in relating to Bnei Yisrael.
The Midrash caught my eye:
ואתה תצוה הה"ד (ירמיה יא) זית רענן יפה פרי תואר קרא ה' שמך וכי לא נקראו ישראל אלא כזית הזה בלבד והלא בכל מיני אילנות נאים ומשובחים נקראו ישראל בגפן ותאנה שנאמר (תהלים פ) גפן ממצרים תסיע תאנה שנאמר (הושע ט) כבכורה בתאנה בראשיתה כתמר שנא' (שיר ז) זאת קומתך דמתה לתמר כארז שנא' (תהלים צב) כארז בלבנון ישגה כאגוז שנאמר (שיר ז) אל גנת אגוז ירדתי וקראן בכל מיני שלחים שנאמר (שם ד) שלחיך פרדס רמונים ובא ירמיה לומר זית רענן יפה פרי תואר אלא מה הזית הזה עד שהוא באילנו מגרגרין אותו ואח"כ מורידין אותו מן הזית ונחבט ומשחובטין אותו מעלין אותו לגת ונותנין אותן במטחן ואח"כ טוחנין אותן ואח"כ מקיפין אותן בחבלים ומביאין אבנים ואח"כ נותנין את שומנן כך ישראל באין עובדי כוכבים וחובטין אותם ממקום למקום וחובשים אותן וכופתין אותם בקולרין ומקיפין אותן טרטיוטין ואח"כ עושין תשובה והקב"ה עונה להם מנין שנא' (שמות ב) ויאנחו בני ישראל וכן (דברים ד) בצר לך ומצאוך כי אל רחום ה' אלהיך הוי זית רענן יפה פרי תואר.
At first glance the Midrash is simply using the mention of zayis, olives, in the parsha as an opportunity to expand on Yirmiyahu's comparison of Bnei Yisrael to the olive tree. This approach begs the question of why discuss this here -- why not any other place in the Torah that mentions zayis?
Therefore, I think Chazal had something else in mind. In the chapter of Yirmiyahu this pasuk is found in, the Navi berates Yisrael for their abandonment of their bris with Hashem. As a result, Hashem promises to visit severe punishment upon them. The pshat in the pasuk of "Zayis ra'anan yfei pri to'ar..." is that Bnei Yisrael used to be like a beautiful zayis tree, but those days are no more -- "Heitzis eish aleha...," Hashem promises to burn down the branches of that tree.
The derash paints a different picture. Bnei Yisrael are not the zayis ra'anan, the beautiful olive tree, only in the past tense, but the Navi is saying that even in the present tense, even in the midst of their punishment, even in the midst of Hashem burning down the tree, Bnei Yisrael remain that zayis ra'anan yfei pri to'ar. The forces that would destroy any other fruit bring out the best in the olive, the oil that can give light.
"V'Yikchu eilecha shemen zayis zach..." Moshe Rabeinu's personal attention was not necessary for the physical production of olive oil. Moshe Rabeinu needed to give his attention to the people who may have been like that crushed zayis. Those olives, those neshomos, had to be brought to Moshe to be reminded that za'ayis ra'anan yfei pri to'ar is an eternal promise (see Sefas Emes).
The Kohanim and Levi'im are the leaders of Klal Yisrael. The parsha of the zayis is the introduction to their appointment, the mission statement that defines their task in relating to Bnei Yisrael.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
milchemes Amalek
ד מצות עשה להחרים שבעה עממין, שנאמר "החרם תחרימם" (דברים כ,יז); וכל שבא לידו אחד מהן, ולא הרגו--הרי זה עובר בלא תעשה, שנאמר "לא תחייה, כל נשמה" (דברים כ,טז). וכבר אבדו, ואבד זכרם.
ה וכן מצות עשה לאבד זרע עמלק, שנאמר "תמחה את זכר עמלק" (דברים כה,יט); ומצות עשה לזכור תמיד מעשיו הרעים ואריבתו, כדי לעורר איבתו--שנאמר "זכור, את אשר עשה לך עמלק" (דברים כה,יז). מפי השמועה למדו, "זכור" בפה; "לא, תשכח" (דברים כה,יט) בלב, שאסור לשכוח איבתו ושנאתו.
The meforshim contrast the Rambam's formulation (Hil Melachim ch 5) of the mitzvah of fighting the seven nations of Canaan with the mitzvah of waging war against Amalek. In various Brisker-style seforim there are two diyukim that attract attention: 1) The Rambam writes that the seven nations of Canaan have vanished (based on Chazal's teaching that Sancherev mixed up the populations of all the nations so that their individual identity was lost); he omits this with respect to Amalek; 2) The Rambam writes that if you meet a member of the seven nations and fail to kill him you have violated a lav; he omits this detail in discussing Amalek.
The second point suggests that according to the Rambam, the mitzvah to wage war against Amalek is a chovas hatzibur, a communal mitzvah, while the mitzvah to kill the seven nations is a chovas hagavra on each individual (see this post at Havolim for more on this sugya). If you meet a member of Amalek there is nothing you as an individual need do, as the mitzvah to wage war can only be undertaken by the community as a whole.
The first point is addressed by the Rav in a footnote to his essay "Kol Dodi Dofek." He quotes his father as suggesting that Amalek is not a specific nation, but rather any nation which aims to destroy Klal Yisrael, any nation which adopts that ideology which we associate with Amalek, is to be treated as Amalek and destroyed. Amalek (unfortunately) continues to exist to the present day.
What confuses me is the rest of what the Rav says in that footnote (p 49-50 in Divrei Hagos v'Ha'aracha, if you want to look it up). He quotes his father as teaching that there are two dinim in the mitzvah of fighting Amalek: 1) A communal obligation to wage war, as discussed at the end of Parshas Beshalach; 2) An chiyuv on individuals to kill members of Amalek, as discussed at the end of Parshas Ki Teitzei. The chiddush that even a person who is an ideological-Amalekite even if not a genetic descendant of Amalek must be killed applies only to the first mitzvah, the communal chiyuv to wage war. However, the mitzvah of killing Amalek incumbent upon individuals applies only to true genetic Amalekites. "Milchama l'Hashem dor dor," the chiddush that war against Amalek is an eternal battle and hence applies to all who embrace the ideology of Amalek is a chiddush of Parshas Beshalach, the chovas hatzibur. It has no parallel in Parshas Ki Teitzei from where we learn the chiyuv incumbent upon individuals.
How does this approach square with the second diyuk we started with? Why does the Rambam not tell us (like he does with respect to the seven nations) that anyone who meets a member of Amalek and does not kill him has violated an issur, as there is a chovas hayachid to kill Amalek as well as a chovas hatzibur to wage war? Why would the Rambam in Sefer haMitzvos #248 categorize the destruction of Amalek as a chovas hatzibur when it also contains a chovas hayachid dimension as well? Why did Chazal choose the parsha that refers to the chiyuv of an individual to kill Amalek (Parshas Ki Teitzei) as the kri'ah for Parshas Zachor and not the parsha that refers to the communal chiyuv? (The Keren Orah at the beginning of Brachos writes that the reason why the d'oraysa chiyuv of reading parshas Amalek must be done b'tzibur is because the mitzvah of zecher is connected with the mitzvah of waging war which is a chovas hatzibur. Reading the parsha devoted to the chovas hayachid of killing Amalek undermines the point!) I'm sure I am missing something here...
ה וכן מצות עשה לאבד זרע עמלק, שנאמר "תמחה את זכר עמלק" (דברים כה,יט); ומצות עשה לזכור תמיד מעשיו הרעים ואריבתו, כדי לעורר איבתו--שנאמר "זכור, את אשר עשה לך עמלק" (דברים כה,יז). מפי השמועה למדו, "זכור" בפה; "לא, תשכח" (דברים כה,יט) בלב, שאסור לשכוח איבתו ושנאתו.
The meforshim contrast the Rambam's formulation (Hil Melachim ch 5) of the mitzvah of fighting the seven nations of Canaan with the mitzvah of waging war against Amalek. In various Brisker-style seforim there are two diyukim that attract attention: 1) The Rambam writes that the seven nations of Canaan have vanished (based on Chazal's teaching that Sancherev mixed up the populations of all the nations so that their individual identity was lost); he omits this with respect to Amalek; 2) The Rambam writes that if you meet a member of the seven nations and fail to kill him you have violated a lav; he omits this detail in discussing Amalek.
The second point suggests that according to the Rambam, the mitzvah to wage war against Amalek is a chovas hatzibur, a communal mitzvah, while the mitzvah to kill the seven nations is a chovas hagavra on each individual (see this post at Havolim for more on this sugya). If you meet a member of Amalek there is nothing you as an individual need do, as the mitzvah to wage war can only be undertaken by the community as a whole.
The first point is addressed by the Rav in a footnote to his essay "Kol Dodi Dofek." He quotes his father as suggesting that Amalek is not a specific nation, but rather any nation which aims to destroy Klal Yisrael, any nation which adopts that ideology which we associate with Amalek, is to be treated as Amalek and destroyed. Amalek (unfortunately) continues to exist to the present day.
What confuses me is the rest of what the Rav says in that footnote (p 49-50 in Divrei Hagos v'Ha'aracha, if you want to look it up). He quotes his father as teaching that there are two dinim in the mitzvah of fighting Amalek: 1) A communal obligation to wage war, as discussed at the end of Parshas Beshalach; 2) An chiyuv on individuals to kill members of Amalek, as discussed at the end of Parshas Ki Teitzei. The chiddush that even a person who is an ideological-Amalekite even if not a genetic descendant of Amalek must be killed applies only to the first mitzvah, the communal chiyuv to wage war. However, the mitzvah of killing Amalek incumbent upon individuals applies only to true genetic Amalekites. "Milchama l'Hashem dor dor," the chiddush that war against Amalek is an eternal battle and hence applies to all who embrace the ideology of Amalek is a chiddush of Parshas Beshalach, the chovas hatzibur. It has no parallel in Parshas Ki Teitzei from where we learn the chiyuv incumbent upon individuals.
How does this approach square with the second diyuk we started with? Why does the Rambam not tell us (like he does with respect to the seven nations) that anyone who meets a member of Amalek and does not kill him has violated an issur, as there is a chovas hayachid to kill Amalek as well as a chovas hatzibur to wage war? Why would the Rambam in Sefer haMitzvos #248 categorize the destruction of Amalek as a chovas hatzibur when it also contains a chovas hayachid dimension as well? Why did Chazal choose the parsha that refers to the chiyuv of an individual to kill Amalek (Parshas Ki Teitzei) as the kri'ah for Parshas Zachor and not the parsha that refers to the communal chiyuv? (The Keren Orah at the beginning of Brachos writes that the reason why the d'oraysa chiyuv of reading parshas Amalek must be done b'tzibur is because the mitzvah of zecher is connected with the mitzvah of waging war which is a chovas hatzibur. Reading the parsha devoted to the chovas hayachid of killing Amalek undermines the point!) I'm sure I am missing something here...
Monday, February 27, 2012
gold on the inside
I read a Midrash in last week's parsha (33:8) as a response to my ranting in the previous post. The Midrash relates that when Hashem have Moshe the command to build a Mishkan, Moshe reacted with befuddlement. "Is it possible for Bnei Yisrael to build this thing called a Mishkan?" he asked G-d. Hashem responded that it was possible even for a single person to build it, as the pasuk says, "Mei'eis kol ish asher yadvenu libo," the money was collected from every man [singular] whose heart was filled with generosity.
Shem m'Shmuel asks: Why did Moshe doubt that Bnei Yisrael could build a Mishkan? The gemara tells us that each and every person became a millionaire collecting the jewels and treasure from the drowned Egyptian army at Yam Suf. Surely there was no lack of funds.
Secondly, what does Hashem's response mean? Ramban tells us that while some of the resources collected to build the Mishkan was readily available, some were rare. No one person had all the materials necessary in hand. It took the combined resources of the nation to assemble everything needed. How then could Hashem say that the Mishkan could be built even by one person?
The answer to the first question is easy. Moshe was not troubled by whether Bnei Yisrael had the funds to build a Mishkan -- he knew they did -- but rather he was troubled by whether Bnei Yisrael could really convert their material goods and monies into a "dirah batachtonim" for the Shechina. The Mishkan was not just another building, another possession (albeit a large, communally owned possession) decked out in glamorous fashion. The gold and riches of the Mishkan were just window dressing for the spiritual power that was inside. To build such a building required people who realized that gold and silver were just adornments for the deeper spiritual riches inside each person.
No one person had all the material resources needed to build the Mishkan at his disposal, but it was a shortage of spiritual riches more than a shortage of material goods which concerned Moshe. Hashem responded that Moshe need not worry, as the Mishkan could be built by the singular ish, just one upright person. All it takes is one person who exemplifies the ideal to inspire others, who in turn will spread the word. It's not the quantity of people which make the difference, but it's the quality of their belief which serves as the contagious spark that ignites others.
Even a miyuta she'bmiyuta, even a single ish, can make all the difference.
Shem m'Shmuel asks: Why did Moshe doubt that Bnei Yisrael could build a Mishkan? The gemara tells us that each and every person became a millionaire collecting the jewels and treasure from the drowned Egyptian army at Yam Suf. Surely there was no lack of funds.
Secondly, what does Hashem's response mean? Ramban tells us that while some of the resources collected to build the Mishkan was readily available, some were rare. No one person had all the materials necessary in hand. It took the combined resources of the nation to assemble everything needed. How then could Hashem say that the Mishkan could be built even by one person?
The answer to the first question is easy. Moshe was not troubled by whether Bnei Yisrael had the funds to build a Mishkan -- he knew they did -- but rather he was troubled by whether Bnei Yisrael could really convert their material goods and monies into a "dirah batachtonim" for the Shechina. The Mishkan was not just another building, another possession (albeit a large, communally owned possession) decked out in glamorous fashion. The gold and riches of the Mishkan were just window dressing for the spiritual power that was inside. To build such a building required people who realized that gold and silver were just adornments for the deeper spiritual riches inside each person.
No one person had all the material resources needed to build the Mishkan at his disposal, but it was a shortage of spiritual riches more than a shortage of material goods which concerned Moshe. Hashem responded that Moshe need not worry, as the Mishkan could be built by the singular ish, just one upright person. All it takes is one person who exemplifies the ideal to inspire others, who in turn will spread the word. It's not the quantity of people which make the difference, but it's the quality of their belief which serves as the contagious spark that ignites others.
Even a miyuta she'bmiyuta, even a single ish, can make all the difference.
can you drive a Lamborghini to olam ha'ba?
I posted this yesterday, but decided to try to tone it down a bit, though I don't know if I succeeded any better the second time around. While driving somewhere yesterday afternoon my wife and I noticed a flaming orange sportscar with a unusual shape ahead of us. It looked like this:
I am not a maven in these things, so when I caught up to it at the light I took at look at the wheels and saw the name of the manufacturer -- Lamborghini. And I also had a chance to notice the kid in the passenger seat was wearing a kipa, as was his dad, the driver. Imagine that -- a frum Yid driving a Lamborghini! A nice little "toy" car to have. Curious, when I got home later I took a look at what one of these things cost. Here's a link because I would not believe it if I didn't see the MSRP myself: $376,000.
I spent the rest of the day cynically wondering how a person wearing a kipa is mechanech his children in the mitzvah of kedoshim te'hiyu or the dinim of tzenius while driving down the street b'farhesya in a bright orange sportscar that costs way more than the price of my first home (and I'm not that old).
After some calmer (relatively speaking) reflection, I've realized that this gentleman has nothing to answer for. His behavior is symptomatic of what passes for normal -- he's in step with orthodox culture and I'm the sore thumb that sticks out. The luxurious Pesach vacations, the $3000 European human hair sheitels, the $8000+ summer camp for your kid, etc. have all become not excesses of the super rich, but the norm of what a "kosher" frum lifestyle is all about.
Your typical orthodox American family's shabbos dinner conversation:
"Iran is working on a nuclear bomb...."
"Gedolei yisrael are in the hospital suffering..."
"Can you please pass the brisket, and try to make the next slice a little thicker?"
Ho hum and lad dee da, as long as the roast beef is rare and the kugel is tasty and maybe there is some single malt scotch l'kavod shabbos for desert, what's there to worry about? Am I not a good Jew? I keep kosher, observe Shabbos (OK, so I sleep 14 of the 25 hours and slip into dockers and a polo shirt right after shul, but the shulchan aruch says you should enjoy shabbos, doesn't it?), and wrote a nice check at the last shul function. What more do you want from me? What does the Lamborghini have to do with religion?
I don't have in mind a gripe against anyone in particular when I write this (and I beg mechila of the Lamborghini driver who is probably a wonderful person, just his car caught my attention as a symbol) -- it's the whole culture of superficial adherence to ritual technicalities while missing the point of it all that turns me off. How can you feel in the mood to write posts about difficult Rambams or sugyos in the parsha when it just seems like fiddling as Rome burns around us?
Of course I know I should qualify what I am writing. There are wonderful people who use their money wisely for great things, who do chessed b'hatzneya leches and devote themselves to talmud torah. There are people who do "get it" and who are moseir nefesh for and who embody the best ideals. I just wish there were more people of this type who stood out at the forefront of defining orthodoxy instead of their being the miyut if not the miyuta sheb'miyuta. As I've said before, I don't read Jewish periodicals if I can avoid them -- I don't want to see ads for resorts, vacations, Pesach cruises or what-not, for glamorous summer programs, for sheitels that require a second mortgage, for restaurant after restaurant, etc. Yet, this is the face of orthodoxy today, in newspapers, magazines, radio ads, etc. I would rather keep my tunnel vision focused on the faces I see at night in the beis medrash.
This post is still pretty harsh even after repeated editing -- sorry, I just had to get it out of my system. It's not aimed at any target; I'm just venting my thoughts. Maybe I'll take it down later when my head clears.
I am not a maven in these things, so when I caught up to it at the light I took at look at the wheels and saw the name of the manufacturer -- Lamborghini. And I also had a chance to notice the kid in the passenger seat was wearing a kipa, as was his dad, the driver. Imagine that -- a frum Yid driving a Lamborghini! A nice little "toy" car to have. Curious, when I got home later I took a look at what one of these things cost. Here's a link because I would not believe it if I didn't see the MSRP myself: $376,000.
I spent the rest of the day cynically wondering how a person wearing a kipa is mechanech his children in the mitzvah of kedoshim te'hiyu or the dinim of tzenius while driving down the street b'farhesya in a bright orange sportscar that costs way more than the price of my first home (and I'm not that old).
After some calmer (relatively speaking) reflection, I've realized that this gentleman has nothing to answer for. His behavior is symptomatic of what passes for normal -- he's in step with orthodox culture and I'm the sore thumb that sticks out. The luxurious Pesach vacations, the $3000 European human hair sheitels, the $8000+ summer camp for your kid, etc. have all become not excesses of the super rich, but the norm of what a "kosher" frum lifestyle is all about.
Your typical orthodox American family's shabbos dinner conversation:
"Iran is working on a nuclear bomb...."
"Gedolei yisrael are in the hospital suffering..."
"Can you please pass the brisket, and try to make the next slice a little thicker?"
Ho hum and lad dee da, as long as the roast beef is rare and the kugel is tasty and maybe there is some single malt scotch l'kavod shabbos for desert, what's there to worry about? Am I not a good Jew? I keep kosher, observe Shabbos (OK, so I sleep 14 of the 25 hours and slip into dockers and a polo shirt right after shul, but the shulchan aruch says you should enjoy shabbos, doesn't it?), and wrote a nice check at the last shul function. What more do you want from me? What does the Lamborghini have to do with religion?
I don't have in mind a gripe against anyone in particular when I write this (and I beg mechila of the Lamborghini driver who is probably a wonderful person, just his car caught my attention as a symbol) -- it's the whole culture of superficial adherence to ritual technicalities while missing the point of it all that turns me off. How can you feel in the mood to write posts about difficult Rambams or sugyos in the parsha when it just seems like fiddling as Rome burns around us?
Of course I know I should qualify what I am writing. There are wonderful people who use their money wisely for great things, who do chessed b'hatzneya leches and devote themselves to talmud torah. There are people who do "get it" and who are moseir nefesh for and who embody the best ideals. I just wish there were more people of this type who stood out at the forefront of defining orthodoxy instead of their being the miyut if not the miyuta sheb'miyuta. As I've said before, I don't read Jewish periodicals if I can avoid them -- I don't want to see ads for resorts, vacations, Pesach cruises or what-not, for glamorous summer programs, for sheitels that require a second mortgage, for restaurant after restaurant, etc. Yet, this is the face of orthodoxy today, in newspapers, magazines, radio ads, etc. I would rather keep my tunnel vision focused on the faces I see at night in the beis medrash.
This post is still pretty harsh even after repeated editing -- sorry, I just had to get it out of my system. It's not aimed at any target; I'm just venting my thoughts. Maybe I'll take it down later when my head clears.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
an uncharitable hand out
Chazal tell us that for 26 generations, from creation until Bnei Yisrael accepted the Torah, Hashem sustained the world solely because of his chessed. Only after Bnei Yisrael accepted the Torah did and could Hashem sustain the world based on what was deserved, using a merit based system. Does this mean that mattan Torah diminished Hashem's midah of chessed -- there was less chessed in the world as a result of mattan Torah?
Rav Hutner explains that to accept chessed without any sense of having earned it carries with it the taint of 'nahama d'kisufa,' the embarassment of taking a hand-out. Giving the poor man a job so he can earn his wages with dignity is the highest form of charity . Torah and mitzvos enable us to feel that we are earning our keep, even though whatever we do pales in comparison to the enormous amount that we receive in return.
Rashi writes that Moshe Rabeinu thought he could get away with reviewing the mishpatim two or three times for Bnei Yisrael until they knew the halachos, but Hashem insisted that, "Eileh hamishpatim asher tasim lifneihem," that the mishpatim be laid out like a table, that they be presented with all of their reasoning and depth. Moshe Rabeinu surely did not want to shortchange us from learning Torah. It's precisely because Moshe wanted so badly for us to know the mishpatim that he figured he would give us a 'kitzur shulchan aruch' version of the halachos. (There are some people who probably regret he didn't do just that.) Why should you have to struggle through Birchas Shmuels when you can just get the din straight away? But that's not what Hashem wanted. Demanding mental effort in learning s a far greater chessed than providing an answer key because halacha is mastered only through ameilus. (See Sefas Emes)
Rav Hutner explains that to accept chessed without any sense of having earned it carries with it the taint of 'nahama d'kisufa,' the embarassment of taking a hand-out. Giving the poor man a job so he can earn his wages with dignity is the highest form of charity . Torah and mitzvos enable us to feel that we are earning our keep, even though whatever we do pales in comparison to the enormous amount that we receive in return.
Rashi writes that Moshe Rabeinu thought he could get away with reviewing the mishpatim two or three times for Bnei Yisrael until they knew the halachos, but Hashem insisted that, "Eileh hamishpatim asher tasim lifneihem," that the mishpatim be laid out like a table, that they be presented with all of their reasoning and depth. Moshe Rabeinu surely did not want to shortchange us from learning Torah. It's precisely because Moshe wanted so badly for us to know the mishpatim that he figured he would give us a 'kitzur shulchan aruch' version of the halachos. (There are some people who probably regret he didn't do just that.) Why should you have to struggle through Birchas Shmuels when you can just get the din straight away? But that's not what Hashem wanted. Demanding mental effort in learning s a far greater chessed than providing an answer key because halacha is mastered only through ameilus. (See Sefas Emes)
Thursday, February 16, 2012
mattan Torah and the seven mitzvos bnei Noach
Rashi comments on "Vayavo Moshe vayisaper la'am es kol divrei Hashem..." (24:3) that Moshe told Bnei Yisrael the seven mitzvos Bnei Noach and the mitzvos they had been given at Marah. Ramban disagrees, as the word "Va'yisaper" usually means relating new information. Bnei Yisrael already knew the seven mitzvos Bnei Noach -- why did Moshe need to teach it to them again?
R' Yosef Engel (Beis haOtzar, Avos, towards the end of part 6) raises the question of whether the chiyuv on Bnei Yisrael to observe the seven mitzvos Bnei Noach remained the same post-mattan Torah as pre-mattan Torah, i.e. mattan Torah simply added new mitzvos, or whether mattan Torah transformed everything, i.e. it was a package deal with a completely new set of chiyuvim.
The Rambam Hil. Melachim ch 9 writes that Adam haRishon was given the first six mitzvos, Noach was given a seventh, and then:
וכן היה הדבר בכל העולם, עד אברהם נצטווה יתר על אלו במילה, והוא התפלל שחרית. ויצחק הפריש מעשר, והוסיף תפילה אחרת לפנות היום. ויעקוב הוסיף גיד הנשה, והתפלל ערבית. ובמצריים נצטווה עמרם במצוות יתרות, עד שבא משה רבנו ונשלמה תורה על ידו.
The Rambam uses the historical precedent set by Adam, Noach, the Avos as the basis for the chiyuv to observe certain mitzvos, to which Moshe then added and completed the Torah. The Torah did not change chiyuvim that already existed, but simply added to them.
I would like to suggest that Rashi disagrees. The reason Moshe related to Bnei Yisrael the seven mitzvos and those commandments they had already been told at Marah is because these were not the same commandments. Mattan Torah fundamentally transformed thosee obligation which existed from simply being ben Noach laws to being a mitzvos -- a qualitatively different legal animal.
(It was noted that I should have mentioned the Rambam in Peirush haMishnayos in Chulin that says the chiyuv of gid hanasheh is because such a mitzvah was given at Sinai, not because such a a mitzvah was practiced by Ya'akov. You need to work out how to fit that in with the Rambam in Hil Melachim. I also want to mention that it's worth seeing a sicha of the L. Rebbe in Likutei Sichos vol. 33 p.26-32, esp. the last section where he explains that even if the Avos did not have a din ben Noach, full fledged geirus did not occur until mattan Torah because only post-Sinai was there this new qualitatively different level of chiyuv (and hence qualitatively different relationship with the RBS"O) created by mattan Torah. Maybe more on this after Shabbos.)
R' Yosef Engel (Beis haOtzar, Avos, towards the end of part 6) raises the question of whether the chiyuv on Bnei Yisrael to observe the seven mitzvos Bnei Noach remained the same post-mattan Torah as pre-mattan Torah, i.e. mattan Torah simply added new mitzvos, or whether mattan Torah transformed everything, i.e. it was a package deal with a completely new set of chiyuvim.
The Rambam Hil. Melachim ch 9 writes that Adam haRishon was given the first six mitzvos, Noach was given a seventh, and then:
וכן היה הדבר בכל העולם, עד אברהם נצטווה יתר על אלו במילה, והוא התפלל שחרית. ויצחק הפריש מעשר, והוסיף תפילה אחרת לפנות היום. ויעקוב הוסיף גיד הנשה, והתפלל ערבית. ובמצריים נצטווה עמרם במצוות יתרות, עד שבא משה רבנו ונשלמה תורה על ידו.
The Rambam uses the historical precedent set by Adam, Noach, the Avos as the basis for the chiyuv to observe certain mitzvos, to which Moshe then added and completed the Torah. The Torah did not change chiyuvim that already existed, but simply added to them.
I would like to suggest that Rashi disagrees. The reason Moshe related to Bnei Yisrael the seven mitzvos and those commandments they had already been told at Marah is because these were not the same commandments. Mattan Torah fundamentally transformed thosee obligation which existed from simply being ben Noach laws to being a mitzvos -- a qualitatively different legal animal.
(It was noted that I should have mentioned the Rambam in Peirush haMishnayos in Chulin that says the chiyuv of gid hanasheh is because such a mitzvah was given at Sinai, not because such a a mitzvah was practiced by Ya'akov. You need to work out how to fit that in with the Rambam in Hil Melachim. I also want to mention that it's worth seeing a sicha of the L. Rebbe in Likutei Sichos vol. 33 p.26-32, esp. the last section where he explains that even if the Avos did not have a din ben Noach, full fledged geirus did not occur until mattan Torah because only post-Sinai was there this new qualitatively different level of chiyuv (and hence qualitatively different relationship with the RBS"O) created by mattan Torah. Maybe more on this after Shabbos.)
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
VaYomer Yisro -- kesiva k'dibur
"Vayomer Yisro el Moshe, 'Ani chosencha Yisro ba eilech.'" (18:6) The Mechila quotes two views (echoed by Rashi/Ramban) as to how Yisro informed Moshe that he was on the way: According to R' Yehoshua, he sent a letter; according to R' Elazar haModai he sent a messenger. While it may seem trivial, the machlokes has an impact l'halacha.
Tosfos (Gitin 71a d"h v'ha) writes that submitting eidus via a letter (or other written communication) is OK (according to the gemara's hava amina) even though writing the parsha of chalitza cannot substitute for reading it. The difference is that with respect to eidus, the Torah uses the term "haggadah," while with respect to chalitzah, the Torah uses the term "amira." The term "haggadah" is inclusive of all types of communication; the term "amira" means specifically speaking.
Chasam Sofer in his teshuvos and his chiddusim challenges Tos. assertion based on our parsha. "Vayomer Yisro..." -- "amira" -- according to Ramban (and one view in the Mechilta) means that Yisro sent a letter, proving that "amira" can refer to written communication as well.
The focal point of the machlokes seems to be whether kesivah k'dibur or not -- when halacha refers to speaking or communicating, does writing count? According to Tos. and R' Elazar haModai, "amira" means specifically speaking; "VaYomer Yisro" means Yisro sent a messenger to speak. According to Ramban/R' Yehoshua, "amira" can be accomplished through writing as well.
R' Noson Gestetner in his L'Horos Noson has a clever explanation of the views in the Mechilta as being l'shitasam of another issue. He does this in three steps: 1) Logically, there is no reason that speaking should have more legal significance than writing. In fact, reason seems to dictate the reverse -- if you put something in writing, it carries more weight. 2) The gemara (Zevachim 116) quotes a machlokes between these same two Tanaim quoted in the Mechilta-- R' Yehoshua and R' Elazar haModai -- whether Yisro came before mattan Torah or afterwards. 3) The l'shitasam: Everyone agrees that halachic "amira" means speech and only speech. However, R' Yehoshua holds that Yisro came pre-mattan Torah, and therefore he is free to read "amira" according to its colloquial, non-halachic use which encompasses even written communication. R' Elazar haModai l'shitaso that Yisro came post-mattan Torah must read "amira" consistent with its technical halachic definition as referring to speech alone.
Tosfos (Gitin 71a d"h v'ha) writes that submitting eidus via a letter (or other written communication) is OK (according to the gemara's hava amina) even though writing the parsha of chalitza cannot substitute for reading it. The difference is that with respect to eidus, the Torah uses the term "haggadah," while with respect to chalitzah, the Torah uses the term "amira." The term "haggadah" is inclusive of all types of communication; the term "amira" means specifically speaking.
Chasam Sofer in his teshuvos and his chiddusim challenges Tos. assertion based on our parsha. "Vayomer Yisro..." -- "amira" -- according to Ramban (and one view in the Mechilta) means that Yisro sent a letter, proving that "amira" can refer to written communication as well.
The focal point of the machlokes seems to be whether kesivah k'dibur or not -- when halacha refers to speaking or communicating, does writing count? According to Tos. and R' Elazar haModai, "amira" means specifically speaking; "VaYomer Yisro" means Yisro sent a messenger to speak. According to Ramban/R' Yehoshua, "amira" can be accomplished through writing as well.
R' Noson Gestetner in his L'Horos Noson has a clever explanation of the views in the Mechilta as being l'shitasam of another issue. He does this in three steps: 1) Logically, there is no reason that speaking should have more legal significance than writing. In fact, reason seems to dictate the reverse -- if you put something in writing, it carries more weight. 2) The gemara (Zevachim 116) quotes a machlokes between these same two Tanaim quoted in the Mechilta-- R' Yehoshua and R' Elazar haModai -- whether Yisro came before mattan Torah or afterwards. 3) The l'shitasam: Everyone agrees that halachic "amira" means speech and only speech. However, R' Yehoshua holds that Yisro came pre-mattan Torah, and therefore he is free to read "amira" according to its colloquial, non-halachic use which encompasses even written communication. R' Elazar haModai l'shitaso that Yisro came post-mattan Torah must read "amira" consistent with its technical halachic definition as referring to speech alone.
(I'll save some of you the trouble of commenting that the narrative of "Vayomer Yisro.." is not a din and maybe shouldn't forced to fit into halachic boxes. Point granted -- but you can appreciate the cleverness of it anyway.)
Saturday, February 11, 2012
charamim to bedek habayis
The Daf Yomi is currently holding in the sugya of whether stam charamim go to the kohanim or to bedek habayis. After discussing the practices of various Amoraim (Rav, Ula), the gemara (Archin 29) asks why these Amoraim needed to debate the issue -- there is a braysa that tells us that the whole parsha of charamim is applicable only when yovel is in force, which was not the case during the time of the Amoraim.
Rashi learns that the gemara's question was directed equally to those who hold stam charamim go to bedek habayis as well as those who hold it goes to the kohanim. The question of what to do with charamim is moot so long as there is no yovel and the laws of charamim are not in force. The Rambam, however, paskens that only charamim of kohanim are in limited to when yovel is in force, but charamim that go to bedek habayis apply at all times.
The Brisker Rav explains the debate with the following chakirah: Does the din of "stam charamim go to bedek habayis" just mean that bedek habayis instead of the kohein is the pocket into which this type of cheireim donation gets deposited, or does the din mean that these type of charamim are not really charamim at all, but are categorically a type of hekdesh? Does the din mean chermei bedek habayis share a quality of hekdesh l'bedek habayis, or these charamim are hekdesh to bedek habayis?
According to Rashi, charamim to bedek habayis are categorically still part of the world of charamim and therefore apply only when yovel is in force. According to the Rambam, charamim to bedek habayis are hekdesh, not governed by hilchos charamim, and therefore their halachos apply at all times.
Rashi learns that the gemara's question was directed equally to those who hold stam charamim go to bedek habayis as well as those who hold it goes to the kohanim. The question of what to do with charamim is moot so long as there is no yovel and the laws of charamim are not in force. The Rambam, however, paskens that only charamim of kohanim are in limited to when yovel is in force, but charamim that go to bedek habayis apply at all times.
The Brisker Rav explains the debate with the following chakirah: Does the din of "stam charamim go to bedek habayis" just mean that bedek habayis instead of the kohein is the pocket into which this type of cheireim donation gets deposited, or does the din mean that these type of charamim are not really charamim at all, but are categorically a type of hekdesh? Does the din mean chermei bedek habayis share a quality of hekdesh l'bedek habayis, or these charamim are hekdesh to bedek habayis?
According to Rashi, charamim to bedek habayis are categorically still part of the world of charamim and therefore apply only when yovel is in force. According to the Rambam, charamim to bedek habayis are hekdesh, not governed by hilchos charamim, and therefore their halachos apply at all times.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
what made Yisro's "baruch Hashem" so special
"Vayichad Yisro al kol hatova" -- Rashi explains that Yisro got goosebumps because he felt the pain of the Egyptians who had been killed, or, according to another interpretation Rashi offers, he was filled with joy over the news of Klal Yisrael's deliverance. Yisro then exclaimed, "Baruch Hashem asher hitzil eschem!"
Chazal read this pasuk as an implicit criticism of Klal Yisrael because Yisro was the first to say "Baruch Hashem" and they were not (Sanhedrin 94). It's hard to understand what bothered Chazal. True, no one said from Klal Yisrael had said those exact words, "Baruch Hashem," but Klal Yisrael sang shirah -- isn't that enough thanks and enough praise? Is there something magic about Yisro's words that made them more significant than the entire shiras ha'yam?
Ksav Sofer offers two answers, each of which is a worthwhile limud in its own right:
1. Geirus does not psychologically divorce one from past life history -- according to the first view in Rashi, Yisro empathized with the Egyptians and felt pain over their death. Bnei Yisrael had no such qualms or regrets. Of course it is wonderful to be able to sing shirah to Hashem when you are elated, like Bnei Yisrael at Yam Suf. But its even more wonderful if you can sing shirah or say "Baruch Hashem" like Yisro, even when the good experienced produces mixed emotions or comes at a cost. Bnei Yisrael are criticized because although they sang shirah over their redemption, they should have also given thanks for the shibud itself, as tragic and painful as it may have seemed.
2. Yisro fled Egypt and never experienced avdus first hand. He did not need mon to eat, he did not need to do battle with Amalek. To sing shirah over the tremendous miracles one experiences in times of need is wonderful. To thank Hashem for the miracles done for other people -- to share in their joy and feel happiness for their success -- that's exceptional. Bnei Yisrael are criticized because each person sang shirah for his/her personal redemption, but did not think to sing shirah over the redemption of his fellow Jew as well.
I think the Brisker Rav was troubled by this same issue and wanted to make the same point (in a way that is rooted in halacha, k'darko) as this second answer as the Ksav Sofer.
The Brisker Rav explains that there is precise link between "Vayichad Yisro" and Yisro's "Baruch Hashem." The Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 219) paskens that Reuvain is allowed to say a birchas hagomel for his friend Shimon. It's not a bracha l'vatalah, explains the Rama, because a birchas hagomel is nothing more than a statement of thanks to Hashem for deliverance from danger. If Reuvain truly feels personal joy over Shimon's deliverance (see Taz, quoted in M.B.), e.g. Shimon is a close relative or friend, then Reuvain has ever right to say a bracha of shevach to celebrate. Since Yisro felt such overwhelming joy for the sake of Klal Yisrael, "Vayichad Yisro," therefore, says the Brisker Rav, he had a right to say a bracha, "Baruch Hashem..." over their salvation.
Rav Sorotzkin in his sefer Rinas Yitzchak is troubled by why the Brisker Rav needed to give us an explanation to justify Yisro saying a bracha when the gemara itself does so. The gemara (Brachos 54) explains that Yisro's "Baruch Hashem" is the source for the din that one is obligated to say a bracha when one sees a place that miracles occurred to Klal Yisrael. (Yisro saw the mon, etc.). Yisro's bracha was a birchas hanes, not a birchas hagomel.
I think perhaps the Brisker Rav's concern was not the halachic nature of the bracha per se, but rather what made the bracha so special. Birchas hagomel provides a halachic model for this type of personal joy that results from seeing the success or deliverance of others.
Chazal read this pasuk as an implicit criticism of Klal Yisrael because Yisro was the first to say "Baruch Hashem" and they were not (Sanhedrin 94). It's hard to understand what bothered Chazal. True, no one said from Klal Yisrael had said those exact words, "Baruch Hashem," but Klal Yisrael sang shirah -- isn't that enough thanks and enough praise? Is there something magic about Yisro's words that made them more significant than the entire shiras ha'yam?
Ksav Sofer offers two answers, each of which is a worthwhile limud in its own right:
1. Geirus does not psychologically divorce one from past life history -- according to the first view in Rashi, Yisro empathized with the Egyptians and felt pain over their death. Bnei Yisrael had no such qualms or regrets. Of course it is wonderful to be able to sing shirah to Hashem when you are elated, like Bnei Yisrael at Yam Suf. But its even more wonderful if you can sing shirah or say "Baruch Hashem" like Yisro, even when the good experienced produces mixed emotions or comes at a cost. Bnei Yisrael are criticized because although they sang shirah over their redemption, they should have also given thanks for the shibud itself, as tragic and painful as it may have seemed.
2. Yisro fled Egypt and never experienced avdus first hand. He did not need mon to eat, he did not need to do battle with Amalek. To sing shirah over the tremendous miracles one experiences in times of need is wonderful. To thank Hashem for the miracles done for other people -- to share in their joy and feel happiness for their success -- that's exceptional. Bnei Yisrael are criticized because each person sang shirah for his/her personal redemption, but did not think to sing shirah over the redemption of his fellow Jew as well.
I think the Brisker Rav was troubled by this same issue and wanted to make the same point (in a way that is rooted in halacha, k'darko) as this second answer as the Ksav Sofer.
The Brisker Rav explains that there is precise link between "Vayichad Yisro" and Yisro's "Baruch Hashem." The Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 219) paskens that Reuvain is allowed to say a birchas hagomel for his friend Shimon. It's not a bracha l'vatalah, explains the Rama, because a birchas hagomel is nothing more than a statement of thanks to Hashem for deliverance from danger. If Reuvain truly feels personal joy over Shimon's deliverance (see Taz, quoted in M.B.), e.g. Shimon is a close relative or friend, then Reuvain has ever right to say a bracha of shevach to celebrate. Since Yisro felt such overwhelming joy for the sake of Klal Yisrael, "Vayichad Yisro," therefore, says the Brisker Rav, he had a right to say a bracha, "Baruch Hashem..." over their salvation.
Rav Sorotzkin in his sefer Rinas Yitzchak is troubled by why the Brisker Rav needed to give us an explanation to justify Yisro saying a bracha when the gemara itself does so. The gemara (Brachos 54) explains that Yisro's "Baruch Hashem" is the source for the din that one is obligated to say a bracha when one sees a place that miracles occurred to Klal Yisrael. (Yisro saw the mon, etc.). Yisro's bracha was a birchas hanes, not a birchas hagomel.
I think perhaps the Brisker Rav's concern was not the halachic nature of the bracha per se, but rather what made the bracha so special. Birchas hagomel provides a halachic model for this type of personal joy that results from seeing the success or deliverance of others.
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