My wife asked me the following question, which I don't really know the answer to: there is a group of women who get together regularly to daven shacharis together and say tehillim. Does the place that they daven have the din of a beis knesses?
My wife had a hava amina that since there was no minyan, it could not be a beis knesses, but I don't know if the two ideas go hand in hand. You can have a minyan held even semi-regularly in a place that does not have the status of a beis knesses (in some communities where people live far from shul there are something Friday night minyanim in people's homes), so why can't you have a place that has the status of beis knesses but has no minyan? It's just the other side of the same coin.
Any thoughts?
Turning to the parsha, the sefer Nesivei Chaim raises the following question: The Rambam in peirush hamishnayos writes that if a navi says something good is going to happen, you can take it to the bank -- Hashem will never go back on that promise. (The Meshech Chochma quotes this in a number of places which I posted about already here and here.) In the beginning of our parsha, Hashem tells Moshe to tell Bnei Yisrael that he will bring them to Eretz Yisrael, "V'hai'veisi eschem el ha'aretz..." (6:8) Based on the Rambam, that promise should be irrevocable, guaranteed 100%. Yet, that promise was in fact never fulfilled. The generation that left Egypt (at least those over 20) all died in the desert and never made it to Eretz Yisrael. Doesn't that contradict the principle the Rambam sets out? (See Ohr haChaim, Ibn Ezra, Seforno)
Rav Elezri answers by quoting the Rambam's reasoning for his principle. How can you tell a true prophet from a false one? Simple: a true prophet can make claims that are 100% guaranteed. The Rambam's principle serves as a check against doubt and as a means of testing the veracity of nevuah.
Such a test and check may be necessary for all other nevi'im, says Rav Elezri, but not so for Moshe. "V'gam becha ya'aminu l'olam," the Torah promises. Belief in the prophecy of Moshe is a cardinal tenant of our faith. Therefore, since no check against doubt is needed, there is no guarantee of every promise spoken by Moshe coming true.
I think you can make the same argument with a slight twist. In our parsha, Moshe complains to Hashem that if Bnei Yisrael did not listen to him, surely Pharoah will not listen either, "v'ani aral sefasayim," not to mention that he also has a lisp. Why does Moshe bring up his lisp here? Didn't he already make the argument in last week's parsha, and Hashem had already responded that he gives the power of speech and will help Moshe. Why are we revisiting the same argument all over again?
The Techeiles Mordechai, R' Schwadron, explains that Moshe was unique in that "Shechina m'daberes b'toch grono," it was as if G-d was speaking from his mouth. Moshe thought this was the help Hashem would give to overcome Moshe's lisp. However, there is a downside to this type of help. The Rambam's principle only works for a promise made by a navi, not a promise made by Hashem himself.
Moshe thought that if Bnei Yisrael could ignore him, it must be because he is guilty of some cheit, and that cheit is interfering with the message. If so, perhaps Pharoah would not listen. Perhaps the geulah itself would be in jeopardy. "Ani aral sefasayim" -- the words aren't my words, thought Moshe -- they are G-d's words. Therefore, the Rambam's principle that guarantees the words of a navi will come true doesn't apply, and who knows what will happen?
So maybe this is also why the Rambam's principle does not apply to the promise of "V'hei'veisi..." When Moshe made that promise, it was not words of a navi that Bnei Yisrael heard, but rather it was "Shechina m'daberes m'toch grono."
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Monday, January 23, 2017
netziv's creative pshat in the parsha of the burning bush
Sometimes a pshat hinges on reading a single word in a way that you never thought of before. A great example in the Netziv's interpretation of the burning bush (3:1-3). He raises two difficulties with the text. First, the nitpicky one: "Ha'sneh ainenu ukal" -- why does the pasuk say "ukal" instead of "ne'echal?" Second, the more striking one: we are told that the bush was "bo'er ba'eish," but then we are told that Moshe went to see "madu'a LO yiv'ar ha'sneh." Was it "bo'er" or was it not "bo'er?!"
We won't get to Parshas Mishpatim for a few weeks, but maybe you remember the source for the nezek of shein from Bava Kama: "Ki yaveir ish sadeh or kerem v'shilach es b'iro u'bi'er b'sdeh acheir..." (22:4) The pasuk there is talking about an animal that grazes is someone else's field and consumes the what is growing there. We see the word "bo'er" doesn't just mean to light on fire and burn -- it can also mean to swallow up and consume.
The Netziv ingeniously suggests that what Moshe saw was a bush that was "bo'er ba'eish," that was consuming, i.e. extinguishing the fire that was burning within it. It was the reverse of the natural order. Normally, it's the fire that consumes the wood as it burns -- here, the wood was consuming the fire.
Maybe, thought Moshe, the fire was simply running out of fuel and that's why it was going out. But no! "Ha'sneh ainenu u'kal," the wood was not consumed, i.e. there was still fuel for the fire. How could it be, wondered Moshe, that "lo yiva'ar ha'sneh," that the fire was dying out without it having consumed the remaining fuel wood of the rest of the bush? How could it be that the decrees of the Egyptians would diminish and eventually go out while there was still a Jewish nation left for the Egyptian to oppress? That, of course, is the question Hashem would answer in the following pesukim.
We won't get to Parshas Mishpatim for a few weeks, but maybe you remember the source for the nezek of shein from Bava Kama: "Ki yaveir ish sadeh or kerem v'shilach es b'iro u'bi'er b'sdeh acheir..." (22:4) The pasuk there is talking about an animal that grazes is someone else's field and consumes the what is growing there. We see the word "bo'er" doesn't just mean to light on fire and burn -- it can also mean to swallow up and consume.
The Netziv ingeniously suggests that what Moshe saw was a bush that was "bo'er ba'eish," that was consuming, i.e. extinguishing the fire that was burning within it. It was the reverse of the natural order. Normally, it's the fire that consumes the wood as it burns -- here, the wood was consuming the fire.
Maybe, thought Moshe, the fire was simply running out of fuel and that's why it was going out. But no! "Ha'sneh ainenu u'kal," the wood was not consumed, i.e. there was still fuel for the fire. How could it be, wondered Moshe, that "lo yiva'ar ha'sneh," that the fire was dying out without it having consumed the remaining fuel wood of the rest of the bush? How could it be that the decrees of the Egyptians would diminish and eventually go out while there was still a Jewish nation left for the Egyptian to oppress? That, of course, is the question Hashem would answer in the following pesukim.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
the real goal of the exodus from Mitzrayim
Hashem appears to Moshe in our parsha and tells him that he is going to redeem the Jewish people from Egypt and take them to Eretz Yisrael, a land of milk and honey (3:8) Hashem then tells Moshe to tell the people that the sign/proof that is the fact that Bnei Yisrael will come and worship Hashem on the very mountain that Hashem appeared to Moshe on (3:12).
R' Moshe Tzuriel in his Derishas Tzion asks two simple questions: 1) If Moshe is giving a sign to establish his bona fides and get everyone onboard with Hashem's plan, shouldn't it precede the events of yetzi'as Mitzrayim? What good is the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh" if it happens only after the exodus is complete? 2) How can "ta'avdun... al ha'har," kabbalas haTorah, all 613 mitzvos, be just a sign, while the one mitzvah of settling Eretz Yisrael be highlighted as the goal of the entire redemption?
R' Ya'akov Emden asks a similar question with respect to the nusach of birchas ha'mazon. We begin "nodeh lecha" by thanking Hashem for "eretz tovah u'rechavah," for Eretz Yisrael, and only later in the bracha give thanks for "al torascha she'limadtanu," for Torah. We received the Torah 40 years before we got to Eretz Yisrael -- shouldn't our thanks for it come first? Isn't Torah the primary thing we should be giving thanks for?
R' Ya'akov Emden answers that coming to Eretz Yisrael may be just one mitzvah and may chronologically have happened after matan Torah, but in terms of tachlis, in terms of defining our purpose and goal, it takes precedence over all else. If the purpose of Judaism was just to learn Torah and do miztvos, we could have gotten on very well in Mitzrayim doing 612 mitzvos and learning Torah once the burden of slavery was removed. But that's not what Hashem wants from us. He wants us to be a nation, which means living in our own country under our own sovereignty. That's the goal. Ramban (VaYikra 18:25) writes that the ikar kiyum of all mitzvos is only in Eretz Yisrael. What we do in chutz la'aretz is just to keep us practice until we can return to the ideal. Therefore, we first give thanks for Eretz Yisrael, and then go into the details of everything else.
When Moshe told Bnei Yisrael the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh," it was not designed to prove to them that they would leave Egypt -- it happened too late for that. It was a sign meant to inspire them to the real end goal -- to come to Eretz Yisrael.
R' Moshe Tzuriel in his Derishas Tzion asks two simple questions: 1) If Moshe is giving a sign to establish his bona fides and get everyone onboard with Hashem's plan, shouldn't it precede the events of yetzi'as Mitzrayim? What good is the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh" if it happens only after the exodus is complete? 2) How can "ta'avdun... al ha'har," kabbalas haTorah, all 613 mitzvos, be just a sign, while the one mitzvah of settling Eretz Yisrael be highlighted as the goal of the entire redemption?
R' Ya'akov Emden asks a similar question with respect to the nusach of birchas ha'mazon. We begin "nodeh lecha" by thanking Hashem for "eretz tovah u'rechavah," for Eretz Yisrael, and only later in the bracha give thanks for "al torascha she'limadtanu," for Torah. We received the Torah 40 years before we got to Eretz Yisrael -- shouldn't our thanks for it come first? Isn't Torah the primary thing we should be giving thanks for?
R' Ya'akov Emden answers that coming to Eretz Yisrael may be just one mitzvah and may chronologically have happened after matan Torah, but in terms of tachlis, in terms of defining our purpose and goal, it takes precedence over all else. If the purpose of Judaism was just to learn Torah and do miztvos, we could have gotten on very well in Mitzrayim doing 612 mitzvos and learning Torah once the burden of slavery was removed. But that's not what Hashem wants from us. He wants us to be a nation, which means living in our own country under our own sovereignty. That's the goal. Ramban (VaYikra 18:25) writes that the ikar kiyum of all mitzvos is only in Eretz Yisrael. What we do in chutz la'aretz is just to keep us practice until we can return to the ideal. Therefore, we first give thanks for Eretz Yisrael, and then go into the details of everything else.
When Moshe told Bnei Yisrael the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh," it was not designed to prove to them that they would leave Egypt -- it happened too late for that. It was a sign meant to inspire them to the real end goal -- to come to Eretz Yisrael.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Purim in January!
I am always short of time so its only occasionally that I get to post a rant on current events, but I would really be remiss if I didn't at least mention that baruch Hashem this year we get an extra opportunity to celebrate Purim. No, it's not a leap year with two Adars -- what it is is an election year, and that means in two days we will finally be rid of the modern day Achashveirosh and Haman all rolled into one, namely, Hussein Obama. It's Purim in January!
We will finally be rid of the man who brought us the Iran deal, Obamacare, tons of debt, a record number of people on food stamps and gvt assistance, a record number of people who have dropped out of the workforce, a record number of consecutive quarters with less than 3% GDP growth, hundreds of thousands of dead in Syria, and I can go on and on. A man who did more to damage America at home and abroad than any other President in my lifetime, including Carter, y'mach shemo, another anti-Semite Jew hater.
And for those who continue to applaud Democrats like Schumer, a man who called himself "Shomer Yisrael," but then spent weeks thinking about how to vote on the Iran deal, only to in the end not raise a rally cry against It, a man who supports Keith Ellison, another Democrat anti-Semite, I have to ask: ad masai?
But little disappointments like that can't cast a damper on the upcoming holiday. B'sha'as chedvah, chedvah.
I just had to do a little post on this to share the simcha.
We will finally be rid of the man who brought us the Iran deal, Obamacare, tons of debt, a record number of people on food stamps and gvt assistance, a record number of people who have dropped out of the workforce, a record number of consecutive quarters with less than 3% GDP growth, hundreds of thousands of dead in Syria, and I can go on and on. A man who did more to damage America at home and abroad than any other President in my lifetime, including Carter, y'mach shemo, another anti-Semite Jew hater.
And for those who continue to applaud Democrats like Schumer, a man who called himself "Shomer Yisrael," but then spent weeks thinking about how to vote on the Iran deal, only to in the end not raise a rally cry against It, a man who supports Keith Ellison, another Democrat anti-Semite, I have to ask: ad masai?
But little disappointments like that can't cast a damper on the upcoming holiday. B'sha'as chedvah, chedvah.
I just had to do a little post on this to share the simcha.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Yosef's shtar eirusin
When Yosef brings his children to Ya'akov for a blessing, the parsha tells us that Ya'akov asks, "Who are they?" (48:8) Rashi explains that Ya'akov saw Yeravam and Achav coming from Ephraim, and he saw Yeihu coming from Menashe, and he did not want to bestow a blessing that would trickle down to such evildoers. (Parenthetically, we see that the potential for bracha to be misused by those who are evil outweighs all the good that might come from the tzadikim in Ephraim and Menashe's offspring who could use the bracha properly.)
Yosef responds to his father, "They are my children..." Rashi explains that Yosef showed his father the shtar eirusin and kesubah, his marriage contract.
What kind of answer is that? Ya'akov is bothered by the fact that his great...great grandchildren will be resha'im, so Yosef shows him a marriage contract?
The Kozhiglover points out that although Chazal tell us (Sanhedrin 90) that Yeravam and Achav have no portion in the world to come, the "Dorshei Reshumos" disagree. The Kozhiglover (and R' Tzadok haKohen as well) explains that the "Dorshei Reshumos" were able to detect a "roshem," some mark and spark of goodness and yahadus, where all others just saw evil. There is always something left, some faint remnant -- a Jew is never lost.
Where does that inextinguishable spark come from? We say every morning when we put on tefillin, "V'eirastich li l'olam..." Hashem has betrothed us forever. Hashem is eternal, and so the bond he has with us is eternal.
This, says the Koshiglover, is the shtar eirusin that Yosef showed his father -- the shtar of "v'eirastich li l'olam." The keubah he showed his father is the Torah that we got "b'yom chasumaso," as the Mishna (end of Ta'anis) calls ma'amad Har Sinai. Yosef was from the school of the Doreshei Reshumos, who held that despite the great evil of Yeravam and Achav, there still remains a core of eternal goodness within.
Yosef responds to his father, "They are my children..." Rashi explains that Yosef showed his father the shtar eirusin and kesubah, his marriage contract.
What kind of answer is that? Ya'akov is bothered by the fact that his great...great grandchildren will be resha'im, so Yosef shows him a marriage contract?
The Kozhiglover points out that although Chazal tell us (Sanhedrin 90) that Yeravam and Achav have no portion in the world to come, the "Dorshei Reshumos" disagree. The Kozhiglover (and R' Tzadok haKohen as well) explains that the "Dorshei Reshumos" were able to detect a "roshem," some mark and spark of goodness and yahadus, where all others just saw evil. There is always something left, some faint remnant -- a Jew is never lost.
Where does that inextinguishable spark come from? We say every morning when we put on tefillin, "V'eirastich li l'olam..." Hashem has betrothed us forever. Hashem is eternal, and so the bond he has with us is eternal.
This, says the Koshiglover, is the shtar eirusin that Yosef showed his father -- the shtar of "v'eirastich li l'olam." The keubah he showed his father is the Torah that we got "b'yom chasumaso," as the Mishna (end of Ta'anis) calls ma'amad Har Sinai. Yosef was from the school of the Doreshei Reshumos, who held that despite the great evil of Yeravam and Achav, there still remains a core of eternal goodness within.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
how can Ramban argue on Chazal - what is the "true" meaning of the text?
I wanted to write a fuller post about this issue, but haven't had time, so I figure better a chatzi shiur than nothing at all.
The Ramban at the end of VaYigash (47:18) tries to reconcile Joseph's interpretation of Pharoah's dream, which called for 7 years of famine, with the events at the end of the parsha, which seem to indicate that the famine ended after only two years (as is Rashi's position quoting Chazal). If the famine indeed ended, wouldn't that call into question Yosef's prediction and advice? Ramban offers three possible solutions:
1) The famine ended completely in Egypt, bas Chazal teach, but it continued in Canaan and the surrounding areas;
2) The view of the Tosefta: the famine temporarily ended in Egypt after 2 years until the death of Ya'akov, after which it resumed for another 5 years;
3) Ramban's interpretation al pi peshuto: the famine ran for seven consecutive years as Yosef had predicted, and the events in the parsha are speaking about the final two years of famine.
R' Friedlander in Sifsei Chaim (Pirkei Emunah u'Bechira vol 2 . 261) asks the following question: the famine lasted either 2 years or 7 tears -- it couldn't have been both. The two views are mutually exclusive. Ramban and Chazal are arguing on a matter of metzi'us, a matter of historical fact. If Chazal, as Rashi quotes, and as the Tosefta teaches, tell us that the historical fact is that the famine lasted only 2 years, how can the Ramban contradict Chazal and tell us that it lasted 7 years?
In other words, when the pshat and the derash contradict as to what happened -- matters of fact -- either one or the other is true. How can we disregard what Chazal teach us is the TRUTH in favor of some other interpretation? If Torah she'ba'al peh gives us the facts, what license do we have to argue?
I'm surprised that R' Friedlander makes no mention of the fact that his rebbe, Rav Dessler, addresses this very same question in a letter printed in Michtav M'Eliyahu vol 4 letter 31 (post on it here).
Be that as it may, his answer in a nutshell is that we have to distinguish between the way the Torah expresses itself, what I would call the signon, and the true meaning of what is being said. The TRUE meaning is of course what Chazal tell us the text means. However, the Torah deliberately expresses itself in a way that suggests other meanings because those other meanings have value for us as well. For example, when we are told to put tefillin "bein einecha," the TRUE meaning of those words is not between your eyes, as that is not the proper place for tefillin. But we need to appreciate that the pshat does mean between your eyes because that also teaches us a lesson -- the ideas contained in tefillin should be before our eyes, i.e. in our minds, always.
Two points: 1) It works well for the tefillin example, but I don't see how this approach resolves the Ramban; 2) More importantly, I hesitate to say it, but I don't really think the pashtanim understood things this way. My impression (e.g. see hakdamah to Ohr haChaim) is that the pashtanim understood that they did have license to argue with Chazal as to what the meaning of the text is. They understood that Chazal are suggesting a possible meaning to the text, but not THE meaning, at least as it applies outside the realm of halacha.
Developing this idea would take a lot longer to do than I have time for now, so that's it for the chatzi shiur. A mareh makom to the idea to think about.
The Ramban at the end of VaYigash (47:18) tries to reconcile Joseph's interpretation of Pharoah's dream, which called for 7 years of famine, with the events at the end of the parsha, which seem to indicate that the famine ended after only two years (as is Rashi's position quoting Chazal). If the famine indeed ended, wouldn't that call into question Yosef's prediction and advice? Ramban offers three possible solutions:
1) The famine ended completely in Egypt, bas Chazal teach, but it continued in Canaan and the surrounding areas;
2) The view of the Tosefta: the famine temporarily ended in Egypt after 2 years until the death of Ya'akov, after which it resumed for another 5 years;
3) Ramban's interpretation al pi peshuto: the famine ran for seven consecutive years as Yosef had predicted, and the events in the parsha are speaking about the final two years of famine.
R' Friedlander in Sifsei Chaim (Pirkei Emunah u'Bechira vol 2 . 261) asks the following question: the famine lasted either 2 years or 7 tears -- it couldn't have been both. The two views are mutually exclusive. Ramban and Chazal are arguing on a matter of metzi'us, a matter of historical fact. If Chazal, as Rashi quotes, and as the Tosefta teaches, tell us that the historical fact is that the famine lasted only 2 years, how can the Ramban contradict Chazal and tell us that it lasted 7 years?
In other words, when the pshat and the derash contradict as to what happened -- matters of fact -- either one or the other is true. How can we disregard what Chazal teach us is the TRUTH in favor of some other interpretation? If Torah she'ba'al peh gives us the facts, what license do we have to argue?
I'm surprised that R' Friedlander makes no mention of the fact that his rebbe, Rav Dessler, addresses this very same question in a letter printed in Michtav M'Eliyahu vol 4 letter 31 (post on it here).
Be that as it may, his answer in a nutshell is that we have to distinguish between the way the Torah expresses itself, what I would call the signon, and the true meaning of what is being said. The TRUE meaning is of course what Chazal tell us the text means. However, the Torah deliberately expresses itself in a way that suggests other meanings because those other meanings have value for us as well. For example, when we are told to put tefillin "bein einecha," the TRUE meaning of those words is not between your eyes, as that is not the proper place for tefillin. But we need to appreciate that the pshat does mean between your eyes because that also teaches us a lesson -- the ideas contained in tefillin should be before our eyes, i.e. in our minds, always.
Two points: 1) It works well for the tefillin example, but I don't see how this approach resolves the Ramban; 2) More importantly, I hesitate to say it, but I don't really think the pashtanim understood things this way. My impression (e.g. see hakdamah to Ohr haChaim) is that the pashtanim understood that they did have license to argue with Chazal as to what the meaning of the text is. They understood that Chazal are suggesting a possible meaning to the text, but not THE meaning, at least as it applies outside the realm of halacha.
Developing this idea would take a lot longer to do than I have time for now, so that's it for the chatzi shiur. A mareh makom to the idea to think about.
Sunday, January 08, 2017
rejoicing in the midas hadin
The Torah tells us that one his way down to Mitzrayim, Yakaov stopped to offer korbanos "Elokei aviv Yitzhak," the G-d of his father Yitzchak (46:1). Why did he single out Yitzchak? Why not "Elokei avosav," or "Elokei Avraham v'Yitzchak?" (see Rashi)
Yitchak represents the midas ha'din. Ya'akov had suffered for so many years and through so many sorrows, the culmination of which was the loss of Yosef. He was certainly familiar with din and mishpat. Suddenly he discovers that Yosef is alive, that he is a leader in Egypt, that the family will be safe. What he had seen as punishment had in fact been rachamei Shamayim. Suddenly, he has a completely different perspective on what din is all about, and so he turns, "l'Elokei Yitzchak," to offer korbanos in appreciation for that midas ha'din, which was really rachamim in disguise.
The Navi tells us "Tzom he're'vi'i v'tzom ha'chamishi..." will become days of "sason v'simcha," days of rejoicing. Chasam Sofer (Toras Moshe, end of Vayigash, d"h "v'yiten") explains that it doesn't mean that Hashem will take away the fast days and we will forget all about them and that's why we will be happy. It means that the fast itself will bring us rejoicing. So long as we fast and pray, so long as Hashem inspires us to fast and pray, it means we have a connection to Him. That connection itself is a sign of rachamei Shamayim, that we are not forsaken even amidst the galus. Like Ya'akov Avinu, we will one day look back and give thanks and celebrate even the midas ha'din.
Yitchak represents the midas ha'din. Ya'akov had suffered for so many years and through so many sorrows, the culmination of which was the loss of Yosef. He was certainly familiar with din and mishpat. Suddenly he discovers that Yosef is alive, that he is a leader in Egypt, that the family will be safe. What he had seen as punishment had in fact been rachamei Shamayim. Suddenly, he has a completely different perspective on what din is all about, and so he turns, "l'Elokei Yitzchak," to offer korbanos in appreciation for that midas ha'din, which was really rachamim in disguise.
The Navi tells us "Tzom he're'vi'i v'tzom ha'chamishi..." will become days of "sason v'simcha," days of rejoicing. Chasam Sofer (Toras Moshe, end of Vayigash, d"h "v'yiten") explains that it doesn't mean that Hashem will take away the fast days and we will forget all about them and that's why we will be happy. It means that the fast itself will bring us rejoicing. So long as we fast and pray, so long as Hashem inspires us to fast and pray, it means we have a connection to Him. That connection itself is a sign of rachamei Shamayim, that we are not forsaken even amidst the galus. Like Ya'akov Avinu, we will one day look back and give thanks and celebrate even the midas ha'din.
Thursday, January 05, 2017
the unspoken argument
1. The Midrash writes that Ya'akov should have been brought down to Egypt in chains, but Hashem didn't want to do that to him; therefore he caused Yosef to be brought to Egypt in advance and Yaakov then went willingly, to meet his long lost son.
What did Ya'akov do to deserve to be brought in chains? Why did he deserve that punishment?
Like we saw last week, sometimes what looks like a bug is really a feature. Sefas Emes explains that the holiness of Ya'akov was so great that it could not be contained or be placed in a spot like Egypt. It would be like trying to connect the wiring in your house directly to the power station -- you would blow up the entire house. You need transformers to reduce the power step by step along the way so that it can be contained. This is the chains that the Midrash is referring to -- "transformers" that would modulate the holiness of Ya'akov step by step. But that's not how it happened. Thanks to Yosef being there, Ya'akov was able to come into Egypt in one step. The kedusha of Ya'akov was able to be preserved in full force even in the darkness of galus.
2. Yehudah's plea for mercy for Binyamin culminates with his telling Yosef, "How can I possibly return without the lad [Binyamin] and have to witness the pain of my father?" (44:34) Similarly, earlier in his speech, Yehudah says that "nafsho keshurah b'nafsho," his father's soul was bound up with Binyamin's; Ya'akov was liable to die should he lose Binyamin. It is Ya'akov's pain which is the focal point of Yehudah's entreaties.
Two weeks ago I quoted from Chazal that Yehudah was punished for putting his olam ha'ba on the line should he fail to bring Binyamin home. Even saying such a thing with conditions attached is deadly serious! It was only Moshe Rabeinu's tefilos on Yehudah's behalf that undid the decree. So why does Yehudah barely mention this in his plea? Why does he bring it up only in passing, as a justification why he more than any other brother was doing the talking (Rashi 44:32)? You would think the potential loss of his own olam ha'ba would be of central concern to Yehudah.
Had you asked me I would have said that maybe Yehudah, thinking he was addressing an Egyptian viceroy, might have figured that the loss of olam ha'ba would not have made much of an impression on an Egyptian. The truth though is that Egyptian culture was very much concerned with the fate of souls after death. They may not have known what olam ha'ba is, but the concept would not have been completely foreign.
The Sefas Emes (5640) answers that this missing argument of Yehudah's -- what he failed to say more than what he did say -- is what caused Yosef to reveal himself. Years ago these same shevatim had seen Yosef as a threat to themselves, and they acted to preserve their own standing at the expense of their father's pain. Now, Yehudah was concerned only for his father's pain, ignoring his personal concerns. If Yehudah could put aside his personal plight and focus only on the needs of his father, was it too much to ask the Viceroy to do the same and put aside his own claims to Binyamin for the sake of another's welfare? These are shevatim who have been cured of their past sin.
What did Ya'akov do to deserve to be brought in chains? Why did he deserve that punishment?
Like we saw last week, sometimes what looks like a bug is really a feature. Sefas Emes explains that the holiness of Ya'akov was so great that it could not be contained or be placed in a spot like Egypt. It would be like trying to connect the wiring in your house directly to the power station -- you would blow up the entire house. You need transformers to reduce the power step by step along the way so that it can be contained. This is the chains that the Midrash is referring to -- "transformers" that would modulate the holiness of Ya'akov step by step. But that's not how it happened. Thanks to Yosef being there, Ya'akov was able to come into Egypt in one step. The kedusha of Ya'akov was able to be preserved in full force even in the darkness of galus.
2. Yehudah's plea for mercy for Binyamin culminates with his telling Yosef, "How can I possibly return without the lad [Binyamin] and have to witness the pain of my father?" (44:34) Similarly, earlier in his speech, Yehudah says that "nafsho keshurah b'nafsho," his father's soul was bound up with Binyamin's; Ya'akov was liable to die should he lose Binyamin. It is Ya'akov's pain which is the focal point of Yehudah's entreaties.
Two weeks ago I quoted from Chazal that Yehudah was punished for putting his olam ha'ba on the line should he fail to bring Binyamin home. Even saying such a thing with conditions attached is deadly serious! It was only Moshe Rabeinu's tefilos on Yehudah's behalf that undid the decree. So why does Yehudah barely mention this in his plea? Why does he bring it up only in passing, as a justification why he more than any other brother was doing the talking (Rashi 44:32)? You would think the potential loss of his own olam ha'ba would be of central concern to Yehudah.
Had you asked me I would have said that maybe Yehudah, thinking he was addressing an Egyptian viceroy, might have figured that the loss of olam ha'ba would not have made much of an impression on an Egyptian. The truth though is that Egyptian culture was very much concerned with the fate of souls after death. They may not have known what olam ha'ba is, but the concept would not have been completely foreign.
The Sefas Emes (5640) answers that this missing argument of Yehudah's -- what he failed to say more than what he did say -- is what caused Yosef to reveal himself. Years ago these same shevatim had seen Yosef as a threat to themselves, and they acted to preserve their own standing at the expense of their father's pain. Now, Yehudah was concerned only for his father's pain, ignoring his personal concerns. If Yehudah could put aside his personal plight and focus only on the needs of his father, was it too much to ask the Viceroy to do the same and put aside his own claims to Binyamin for the sake of another's welfare? These are shevatim who have been cured of their past sin.
ha'od *avi* chai - is MY father still alive?
When Yosef revealed himself, "Ani Yosef -- ha'od avi chai?" the shevatim were too stunned to answer. Chazal see this as a model of how we will react when G-d reproves us on the day of judgment. If the great shevatim could not answer the reproof of their brother, surely we will be struck dumb when G-d reveals the truth of what we should have done with life to us.
Chazal refer to Yosef's words as reproof, rebuke, but the meforshim struggle to see how that description fits. Yosef didn't give his brother's a musar shmooz and tear into them. To the contrary, he just revealed who his is as a statement of fact. R' Chaim Shmuelevitz in the Sichos Musar suggests that this is what real reproof consists us -- a revelation of truth that undermines all false assumptions. Imagine a scientist who constructs an elaborate theory as to how and when species X went extinct. You can argue from today till tomorrow whether the theory is right, but if someone walks into with a living specimen of species X, all bets are off. That's tochacha. The brothers theorized that Yosef would amount to no good. "Ani Yosef" -- I am Yosef the tzadik, even though I have been in Egypt. You declared my Torah extinct and my religiosity extinct, but here I am.
The Netziv points out that Yosef asks, "Ha'od *avi* chai?" -- Is *my* father still alive. Yosef was telling the brothers that although Ya'akov was the father of the entire family, he had a unique relationship with each one of his children. To think that getting rid of even one brother would make no difference -- after all, there were 11 others -- missed that point. How could *my* father continue to live absent that special relationship all these years?
Rav Charlap (the son of Rav Y"M Charlap) says an amazing pshat in this pasuk. He suggests that it is not speaking about Ya'akov at all. We know that when the brothers came to Egypt, they did not recognize Yosef, but he was able to recognized them. This was by Divine design in order so that Yosef would be able to bring about the fulfillment of his dreams. Yosef, however, did not know that. He wondered the entire time how it was possible that his brothers could be around him and fail to recognize him. After all, Rashi tells us (37:2) that he resembled their father Ya'akov Avinu! Yosef wondered to himself whether he had lost his yiddishe panim, the dmus d'yukno, the spiritual resemblance to his father. Perhaps he had been influenced too greatly by Egyptian society. When he now reveals himself, he asks his brothers, "Ha'od avi chai," is the semblance to my father that I left home with still alive within me? Do I still look like one of the shivtei K-h, like Ya'akov Avinu?
At this point there was no longer a need for Divine intervention to keep up the charade, and so the mask was off. The brothers now saw in the face of Yosef that this was indeed their brother, that he still retained the resemblance, spiritually as well as physically, so their father. They could not answer, "ki nivhalu mi'panav," because they were astounded at his face, the face they now recognized.
Chazal refer to Yosef's words as reproof, rebuke, but the meforshim struggle to see how that description fits. Yosef didn't give his brother's a musar shmooz and tear into them. To the contrary, he just revealed who his is as a statement of fact. R' Chaim Shmuelevitz in the Sichos Musar suggests that this is what real reproof consists us -- a revelation of truth that undermines all false assumptions. Imagine a scientist who constructs an elaborate theory as to how and when species X went extinct. You can argue from today till tomorrow whether the theory is right, but if someone walks into with a living specimen of species X, all bets are off. That's tochacha. The brothers theorized that Yosef would amount to no good. "Ani Yosef" -- I am Yosef the tzadik, even though I have been in Egypt. You declared my Torah extinct and my religiosity extinct, but here I am.
The Netziv points out that Yosef asks, "Ha'od *avi* chai?" -- Is *my* father still alive. Yosef was telling the brothers that although Ya'akov was the father of the entire family, he had a unique relationship with each one of his children. To think that getting rid of even one brother would make no difference -- after all, there were 11 others -- missed that point. How could *my* father continue to live absent that special relationship all these years?
Rav Charlap (the son of Rav Y"M Charlap) says an amazing pshat in this pasuk. He suggests that it is not speaking about Ya'akov at all. We know that when the brothers came to Egypt, they did not recognize Yosef, but he was able to recognized them. This was by Divine design in order so that Yosef would be able to bring about the fulfillment of his dreams. Yosef, however, did not know that. He wondered the entire time how it was possible that his brothers could be around him and fail to recognize him. After all, Rashi tells us (37:2) that he resembled their father Ya'akov Avinu! Yosef wondered to himself whether he had lost his yiddishe panim, the dmus d'yukno, the spiritual resemblance to his father. Perhaps he had been influenced too greatly by Egyptian society. When he now reveals himself, he asks his brothers, "Ha'od avi chai," is the semblance to my father that I left home with still alive within me? Do I still look like one of the shivtei K-h, like Ya'akov Avinu?
At this point there was no longer a need for Divine intervention to keep up the charade, and so the mask was off. The brothers now saw in the face of Yosef that this was indeed their brother, that he still retained the resemblance, spiritually as well as physically, so their father. They could not answer, "ki nivhalu mi'panav," because they were astounded at his face, the face they now recognized.
Sunday, January 01, 2017
zos chanukah
"V'Choshech al pnei tehom" -- We all learned in history books about the Dark Ages between 500-1000, but Midrash darshens that there was a different dark ages. "Choshech," explains the Midrash, is the time of the Greek empire. Even though there was culture, philosophy, art, etc. in Greece, it was a time of great spiritual darkness.
We unfortunately have been in a few galiyos -- Bavel, Paras, Edom, and Greece. Couldn't each galus be rightfully described as a time of spiritual darkness? Why is the Greek empire in particular singled out?
Sefas Emes answers that in each of the other galiyos we lacked the Beis haMikdash. It's no big deal to say that galus caused darkness when the greatest source of light in the world was absent. The tragedy of the Greek oppression is that it happened when we had a Beis haMikdash, the oro shel olam. To bring darkness to the world when there is that bright light that should be shining -- that's something. Because we were able to overcome Yavan, we celebrate the Festival of Lights. Because they tried to extinguish the light, in the end there is more light brought into the world.
I think I once posted the Sefas Emes' question: Moshe went up to Sinai for 40 days to get the Torah, he spent 40 days there davening for Hashem to forgive the cheit ha'eigel. Why did he need to spend another 40 days there to get the luchos sheniyos and get the Torah a second time? He knew it all from the first 40 days -- it's the same Torah laws?
Sefas Emes answers that b'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. After the middle 40 days Bnei Yisrael were on the level of ba'alei teshuvah as they had repented from the cheit ha'eigel. The Torah of the ba'al teshuvah is a different Torah, a higher Torah. It took another 40 days to learn that Torah.
Chanukah is the chanukas hamikdash, the rededication of the Temple. But the Mikdash had not fallen, it had not been dismantled or destroyed. Why did it need to be rededicated?
Here too, explains the Sefas Emes, Bnei Yisrael had sinned and become corrupted by Greek ideology. Chanukah was a time of teshuvah. Bnei Yisrael rejected that ideology and returned to Torah. B'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. The Beis HaMikdash post-teshuvah is a different Beis haMikdash, a higher, more exalted Beis haMikdash, than the Beis haMikdash which had always been there from beforehand. That Mikdash needed to be dedicated.
The Rambam writes that Chanukah marks the restoration of the sovereignty of the Jewish people in Eretz Yisrael, at least temporarily. We cannot recite hallel on Purim because "akatei avdei Achashveirsh anan," we are still ruled by Achashveirosh, but we do recite full hallel on Chanukah. Sefas Emes elsewhere writes that the chanukas hamikdash was really a dedication of the mikdash of the future geulah, when we will once again rule Eretz Yisrael independently, have a Mikdash, and be immune from outside influences. Chanukah is a taste of the future.
We have a Yom Tov derabbanan, writes Sefas Emes, that corresponds with each one of the Yamim Yovim, the three regalim, of the Torah. On Shavuos we received the Torah, and so we have a holiday of Purim where "kiymu v'kiblu," we affirm that acceptance. We have Sukkos where we offer korbanos that correspond to the 70 nations, and on Chanukah, we light counting down according to Beis Shamai, to correspond to those korbanos (there are other links as well). Pesach is the holiday of redemption, and in the future we will one day have a holiday of redemption as well, a holiday to celebrate our freedom and our return to Eretz Yisrael (check your calendar in a little over four months : ).
We unfortunately have been in a few galiyos -- Bavel, Paras, Edom, and Greece. Couldn't each galus be rightfully described as a time of spiritual darkness? Why is the Greek empire in particular singled out?
Sefas Emes answers that in each of the other galiyos we lacked the Beis haMikdash. It's no big deal to say that galus caused darkness when the greatest source of light in the world was absent. The tragedy of the Greek oppression is that it happened when we had a Beis haMikdash, the oro shel olam. To bring darkness to the world when there is that bright light that should be shining -- that's something. Because we were able to overcome Yavan, we celebrate the Festival of Lights. Because they tried to extinguish the light, in the end there is more light brought into the world.
I think I once posted the Sefas Emes' question: Moshe went up to Sinai for 40 days to get the Torah, he spent 40 days there davening for Hashem to forgive the cheit ha'eigel. Why did he need to spend another 40 days there to get the luchos sheniyos and get the Torah a second time? He knew it all from the first 40 days -- it's the same Torah laws?
Sefas Emes answers that b'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. After the middle 40 days Bnei Yisrael were on the level of ba'alei teshuvah as they had repented from the cheit ha'eigel. The Torah of the ba'al teshuvah is a different Torah, a higher Torah. It took another 40 days to learn that Torah.
Chanukah is the chanukas hamikdash, the rededication of the Temple. But the Mikdash had not fallen, it had not been dismantled or destroyed. Why did it need to be rededicated?
Here too, explains the Sefas Emes, Bnei Yisrael had sinned and become corrupted by Greek ideology. Chanukah was a time of teshuvah. Bnei Yisrael rejected that ideology and returned to Torah. B'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. The Beis HaMikdash post-teshuvah is a different Beis haMikdash, a higher, more exalted Beis haMikdash, than the Beis haMikdash which had always been there from beforehand. That Mikdash needed to be dedicated.
The Rambam writes that Chanukah marks the restoration of the sovereignty of the Jewish people in Eretz Yisrael, at least temporarily. We cannot recite hallel on Purim because "akatei avdei Achashveirsh anan," we are still ruled by Achashveirosh, but we do recite full hallel on Chanukah. Sefas Emes elsewhere writes that the chanukas hamikdash was really a dedication of the mikdash of the future geulah, when we will once again rule Eretz Yisrael independently, have a Mikdash, and be immune from outside influences. Chanukah is a taste of the future.
We have a Yom Tov derabbanan, writes Sefas Emes, that corresponds with each one of the Yamim Yovim, the three regalim, of the Torah. On Shavuos we received the Torah, and so we have a holiday of Purim where "kiymu v'kiblu," we affirm that acceptance. We have Sukkos where we offer korbanos that correspond to the 70 nations, and on Chanukah, we light counting down according to Beis Shamai, to correspond to those korbanos (there are other links as well). Pesach is the holiday of redemption, and in the future we will one day have a holiday of redemption as well, a holiday to celebrate our freedom and our return to Eretz Yisrael (check your calendar in a little over four months : ).
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Yosef, 70 languages, shabbos
1. The gemara (Sotah 36) writes that Pharoah's advisors objected to his appointing this unknown slave named Yosef to a position of power. Pharoah answered that he saw royalty in Yosef. The advisors responded that if Yosef was indeed royalty, then he should be able to speak in 70 languages just like Pharoah, and he should be put to the test. The gemara says that Gavriel came and tried to help Yosef cram (better than using rosetta stone), but he wasn't getting it. Gavriel then added the letter hey to Yosef's name -- "Eidus b'yehosef samo [darshened as shemo=his name] b'tzeiso al Eretz Mitzrayim -- and he was then able to learn the 70 languages.
If Pharoah was able to master 70 languages, how was it that Yosef, "ish chacham v'navon," not to mention a tzadik, was incapable to doing so? Was it the time pressure, or the pressure of doing it for the test put forth by the advisors?
Maharal (Gevuros Hashem ch 28) explains that Moshe's speech impediment was not a flaw or a defect. Speech has to come from the chomer, the body, as well as the nefesh. Because Moshe was so spiritual, he was disconnected from the world, and was unable to connect to his guf to properly express himself through that medium.
R' Zev Hoberman z"l similarly explains that when the world was first created and was in a pristine, spiritual state, the only language that existed was lashon kodesh. The 70 languages came into being as a result of the sin of dor ha'palagah. Yosef's neshoma was still on that pristine, high level of spirituality, and therefore, it connected only with lashom kodesh. Its inability to express itself in other ways was a feature, not a bug.
2. The Midrash darshens Yosef's instructions "tvo'ach tevach v'hachein" as an allusion to Shabbos, which requires hachana, preparation. Since Yosef is described as a shomer Shabbos, therefore, his descendent was zocheh to offer korbanos at the dedication of the mishkan on Shabbos. The prince of Ephraim is the nasi who brought his korban and gift on the 7th day of the chanukas hamishkan.
Even though Yosef gave those instructions, the other shevatim as well as the Avos also observed Shabbos. Why is the reward given only to Yosef?
The Midrash in last week's parsha writes that had Reuvain known that the Torah would write that he saved Yosef, he would have grabbed him from the pit, hoisted him on his shoulders, and brought him home. Does that mean that Reuvain would have done more if he would have known about the great publicity he was going to get? Of course not. The Sefas Emes explains that what Chazal are telling us is not to minimize the significance of our own actions. A person who does a good deed may think to himself/herself, "What does it matter how I do it, what I do, how much I do? At the end of the day, what difference is my small effort going to make?" That mindset leads to discouragement, for doing less than the optimal, for giving less than 110% The truth is that every action we do makes as world of difference for ourselves and for our offspring, who learn from what we do. Every action is Torah. Had Reuvain realized that his efforts were Torah, and were not an insignificant fruitless attempt, he would have put more into it. (A few years ago I wrote up a different pshat here.)
I think that is what Chazal are getting at in this Midrash regarding Yosef as well. Of course the Avos and shevatim observed Shabbos, but there observance, for whatever reason, is not recorded explicitly, and therefore is not torah in the same was as Yosef's shmiras shabbos. What is recorded in the text is a limud for all doros for all eternity. Only Yosef merited that. (Why that is true, I'm not sure -- you can say whatever sevara you like.)
The effect it had on Ephraim being able to offer his gift on Shabbos is not a reward -- it's a consequence (all rewards in Torah are really consequence, but that's a discussion for some other time.) By definition, since Yosef's shemiras Shabbos was torah, it had an effect generations later, because that's what Torah is -- it is eternity. (See Bad Kodesh by R' Povarski who has a different approach.)
3. Put yourself in Yosef's shoes -- what would pop into your mind as soon as you see your brothers? Wouldn't you think to yourself, "These are the guys who sold me down the river!" But look at what the pasuk says, writes the Alter of Navardok: "Yayizkor Yosef es ha'chalomos asher chalam lahem" (42:8) Yosef thinks only of the dreams he once had, not what his brothers had done to him, and certainly not of revenge.
If Pharoah was able to master 70 languages, how was it that Yosef, "ish chacham v'navon," not to mention a tzadik, was incapable to doing so? Was it the time pressure, or the pressure of doing it for the test put forth by the advisors?
Maharal (Gevuros Hashem ch 28) explains that Moshe's speech impediment was not a flaw or a defect. Speech has to come from the chomer, the body, as well as the nefesh. Because Moshe was so spiritual, he was disconnected from the world, and was unable to connect to his guf to properly express himself through that medium.
R' Zev Hoberman z"l similarly explains that when the world was first created and was in a pristine, spiritual state, the only language that existed was lashon kodesh. The 70 languages came into being as a result of the sin of dor ha'palagah. Yosef's neshoma was still on that pristine, high level of spirituality, and therefore, it connected only with lashom kodesh. Its inability to express itself in other ways was a feature, not a bug.
2. The Midrash darshens Yosef's instructions "tvo'ach tevach v'hachein" as an allusion to Shabbos, which requires hachana, preparation. Since Yosef is described as a shomer Shabbos, therefore, his descendent was zocheh to offer korbanos at the dedication of the mishkan on Shabbos. The prince of Ephraim is the nasi who brought his korban and gift on the 7th day of the chanukas hamishkan.
Even though Yosef gave those instructions, the other shevatim as well as the Avos also observed Shabbos. Why is the reward given only to Yosef?
The Midrash in last week's parsha writes that had Reuvain known that the Torah would write that he saved Yosef, he would have grabbed him from the pit, hoisted him on his shoulders, and brought him home. Does that mean that Reuvain would have done more if he would have known about the great publicity he was going to get? Of course not. The Sefas Emes explains that what Chazal are telling us is not to minimize the significance of our own actions. A person who does a good deed may think to himself/herself, "What does it matter how I do it, what I do, how much I do? At the end of the day, what difference is my small effort going to make?" That mindset leads to discouragement, for doing less than the optimal, for giving less than 110% The truth is that every action we do makes as world of difference for ourselves and for our offspring, who learn from what we do. Every action is Torah. Had Reuvain realized that his efforts were Torah, and were not an insignificant fruitless attempt, he would have put more into it. (A few years ago I wrote up a different pshat here.)
I think that is what Chazal are getting at in this Midrash regarding Yosef as well. Of course the Avos and shevatim observed Shabbos, but there observance, for whatever reason, is not recorded explicitly, and therefore is not torah in the same was as Yosef's shmiras shabbos. What is recorded in the text is a limud for all doros for all eternity. Only Yosef merited that. (Why that is true, I'm not sure -- you can say whatever sevara you like.)
The effect it had on Ephraim being able to offer his gift on Shabbos is not a reward -- it's a consequence (all rewards in Torah are really consequence, but that's a discussion for some other time.) By definition, since Yosef's shemiras Shabbos was torah, it had an effect generations later, because that's what Torah is -- it is eternity. (See Bad Kodesh by R' Povarski who has a different approach.)
3. Put yourself in Yosef's shoes -- what would pop into your mind as soon as you see your brothers? Wouldn't you think to yourself, "These are the guys who sold me down the river!" But look at what the pasuk says, writes the Alter of Navardok: "Yayizkor Yosef es ha'chalomos asher chalam lahem" (42:8) Yosef thinks only of the dreams he once had, not what his brothers had done to him, and certainly not of revenge.
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
kitusei michtas shiura and ner chanukah
Tosfos (Eiruvin 80b) asks why is it that kitusei michtas shiura disqualifies a korah made from an asheira but does not disqualify a lechi made from an asheira. Tosfos answers that a korah requires a shiur of at least a tefach; a lechi has some shiur of height and width, but it is an insignificant amount (the width can be a mashehu). Tosfos then quotes R' Avraham as answering that if you took the lechi and broke it into little, tiny pieces, so long as you affix those little pieces together on a wall, it is a valid lechi. The same cannot be said of a korah, as the little pieces would collapse.
It seems that the two answers of Tosfos differ in their conceptual understanding of kitusei michtas shiura. According to the first answer, kitusei michtas *shiura* means that there is not enough "stuff" there, there is a lacking in the shiur required. A lulav made from an asheirah, for example, is pasul because it does not meet the requirement of being 4 tefachim tall. According to the second answer, there is sufficient "stuff" present -- what is lacking is tziruf, something to hold the parts together. It is as if that lulav, that korah, etc. are broken into little bits. That has no effect on the kashrus of a lechi.
The Ran asks why is it that a get can be written on issurei hana'ah -- why don't we say kitusei michtas shiura? Ran answers that there is no shiur for a get. It seems that the Ran held like the first model of kitusei michtas shiura, that it is a lack in shiur. According to the second model, even if get does not need a shiur, it would not do much good if it is ripped into little shreds. (See the Steipler in Sukkah who tries to get these two models to mesh together.)
Achronim discuss whether kitusei michtas shiura applies to ner Chanukah. The Aruch haShulchan quotes the second answer of Tosfos in Eiruvin and writes that even if the oil is broken into little drops, who cares? So long as it burns for the required time, you should be yotzei. Perhaps one could counter argue that according to the Ran kitusei michtas means it is as if there is a lack in the shiur of oil required to be lit.
Alternately, one might argue that there is in fact no shiur for the amount of oil that must be lit. This is Chanukah after all! Assuming the one jug the Chashmonaim found was broken into 8 parts, each day they lit with less than the shiur and nonetheless it burned for sufficient time. Ad she'tichleh regel min ha'shuk has nothing to do with how much "stuff"/oil there has to be -- it just tells us how long the menorah has to remain lit.
It seems that the two answers of Tosfos differ in their conceptual understanding of kitusei michtas shiura. According to the first answer, kitusei michtas *shiura* means that there is not enough "stuff" there, there is a lacking in the shiur required. A lulav made from an asheirah, for example, is pasul because it does not meet the requirement of being 4 tefachim tall. According to the second answer, there is sufficient "stuff" present -- what is lacking is tziruf, something to hold the parts together. It is as if that lulav, that korah, etc. are broken into little bits. That has no effect on the kashrus of a lechi.
The Ran asks why is it that a get can be written on issurei hana'ah -- why don't we say kitusei michtas shiura? Ran answers that there is no shiur for a get. It seems that the Ran held like the first model of kitusei michtas shiura, that it is a lack in shiur. According to the second model, even if get does not need a shiur, it would not do much good if it is ripped into little shreds. (See the Steipler in Sukkah who tries to get these two models to mesh together.)
Achronim discuss whether kitusei michtas shiura applies to ner Chanukah. The Aruch haShulchan quotes the second answer of Tosfos in Eiruvin and writes that even if the oil is broken into little drops, who cares? So long as it burns for the required time, you should be yotzei. Perhaps one could counter argue that according to the Ran kitusei michtas means it is as if there is a lack in the shiur of oil required to be lit.
Alternately, one might argue that there is in fact no shiur for the amount of oil that must be lit. This is Chanukah after all! Assuming the one jug the Chashmonaim found was broken into 8 parts, each day they lit with less than the shiur and nonetheless it burned for sufficient time. Ad she'tichleh regel min ha'shuk has nothing to do with how much "stuff"/oil there has to be -- it just tells us how long the menorah has to remain lit.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
the seeds of malchus
Yosef was lost somewhere in Mitzrayim, "vayeired Yehudah," Yehudah lost his leadership position for his role in the fiasco, Reuvain was immersed in doing teshuvah for his sins, Ya'akov could not be consoled over the loss of Yosef -- could things get any worse? Could things look any bleaker? Yet, the Midrash (85:1), after going through the above list, tells us that while all this was going on Hashem was busy creating the ohr of mashiach. At the very moment when things look the bleakest, Hashem was crafting redemption. That's a great lesson about Jewish history and Jewish destiny.
We have the story of Yehudah and Tamar in our parsha. The gemara (Sotah 7b) darshens that there is a connection between Yehudah's bracha, "V'zos l'Yehdah...," with a connecting vav, in parshas V'Zos haBracha, and Reuvain's bracha that comes right before it. Yehudah was not allowed to enter gan eden after death because he had pledged his olam ha'ba as collateral in case he did not bring Binyamin home. Moshe Rabeinu wanted to rectify that. He asked that Hashem open the gates of heaven for Yehudah in the merit of the special zechus Yehudah had of causing Reuvain to admit his guilt. When Yehudah publicly admitted that he was the one who had been with Tamar, Reuvain was inspired and admitted his own guilt in being "bilbeil yetzu'ei aviv" with Bilhah. In that merit, Yehudah earned entrance to gan eden.
R' Leib Chasman makes a beautiful point. Why it is that Yehudah's own public admission of guilt, at the cost of great embarrassment, was not enough to earn him olam ha'ba. Why was it only the fact that he caused Reuvain to confess? He beautifully answers that it's not only our own tzidkus that ultimately defines who we are, but it's what impact and influence we have on others.
Be that as it may, I don't understand simple pshat in a Rashi on this sugya. The gemara says that Yehudah and Reuvain received reward in this world as well as the next. Rashi (d"h lahem levadam) writes that Yehudah received the reward of malchus; Reuvain received the reward of getting the first portion of land in Eretz Yisrael, in Eiver ha'Yarden. Putting aside the question of whether Eiver haYarden has a full kedushas ha'aretz, I don't understand why this is a reward. In Parshas Matos Moshe Rabeinu was highly critical of Reuvain and Gad for asking for that territory. Taking it was viewed as a negative, and it was only with great reluctance that Moshe agreed that they could settle there. Why is getting that land a reward? I don't know.
It takes two to tango, and the reward of malchus given to Yehudah was earned by Tamar as well. Rashi (38:26) quotes the Midrash that "because Tamar was modest in her in-laws house, therefore I [Hashem] decreed that she should produce kings of Israel."
The is an amazing Rashi given the context. Here Tamar says, "haker na," whoever these items belong to is the father of my baby. She deliberately avoided accusing Yehudah directly, and would have even been willing to give up her life rather than embarrass him in public should he refuse to admit guilt. Yet, that's not why Tamar earned the reward of malchus! It's because of her tzeniyus, not her mesirus nefesh, that she was deserving of producing kings.
Were I a Beis Ya'akov teacher, this would be an easy home run derasha for the week. "Kol kevudah **bas melech** pnimah..." (The 45:14) The midah of tzeniyus and the midah of malchus go hand in hand. (Why that should be so is something to explore further. Friday night is a long night -- plenty of time to think : )
The Midrash writes that Yehudah took no notice of Tamar at first, but a malach caused him to turn aside off the road and go to her. He was coerced somehow to fall into this situation so that malchus yisrael could arise. It sounds like a supernatural occurrence, a long shot that you would not bet on. So what was Tamar thinking? What was this girl, who was so tzanu'a, hoping for? Surely she could not have expected Yehudah to notice her or to be with her? It would be like hoping to win the lottery!
R' Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Musar 5733 #9) answers that when a person realizes great things are on the line, he/she will grasp at every straw and make every effort, no matter how slight the chance of success, to bring things to fruition. Tamar realized this was her chance -- a slight chance, but still, a chance -- to perhaps be the mother of malchus, the mother who will bring the lineage of mashiach into the world. No matter what the odds, no matter what effort she took, it was something she had to shoot for.
Still haven't had a chance to write about Chanukah -- never enough time.
We have the story of Yehudah and Tamar in our parsha. The gemara (Sotah 7b) darshens that there is a connection between Yehudah's bracha, "V'zos l'Yehdah...," with a connecting vav, in parshas V'Zos haBracha, and Reuvain's bracha that comes right before it. Yehudah was not allowed to enter gan eden after death because he had pledged his olam ha'ba as collateral in case he did not bring Binyamin home. Moshe Rabeinu wanted to rectify that. He asked that Hashem open the gates of heaven for Yehudah in the merit of the special zechus Yehudah had of causing Reuvain to admit his guilt. When Yehudah publicly admitted that he was the one who had been with Tamar, Reuvain was inspired and admitted his own guilt in being "bilbeil yetzu'ei aviv" with Bilhah. In that merit, Yehudah earned entrance to gan eden.
R' Leib Chasman makes a beautiful point. Why it is that Yehudah's own public admission of guilt, at the cost of great embarrassment, was not enough to earn him olam ha'ba. Why was it only the fact that he caused Reuvain to confess? He beautifully answers that it's not only our own tzidkus that ultimately defines who we are, but it's what impact and influence we have on others.
Be that as it may, I don't understand simple pshat in a Rashi on this sugya. The gemara says that Yehudah and Reuvain received reward in this world as well as the next. Rashi (d"h lahem levadam) writes that Yehudah received the reward of malchus; Reuvain received the reward of getting the first portion of land in Eretz Yisrael, in Eiver ha'Yarden. Putting aside the question of whether Eiver haYarden has a full kedushas ha'aretz, I don't understand why this is a reward. In Parshas Matos Moshe Rabeinu was highly critical of Reuvain and Gad for asking for that territory. Taking it was viewed as a negative, and it was only with great reluctance that Moshe agreed that they could settle there. Why is getting that land a reward? I don't know.
It takes two to tango, and the reward of malchus given to Yehudah was earned by Tamar as well. Rashi (38:26) quotes the Midrash that "because Tamar was modest in her in-laws house, therefore I [Hashem] decreed that she should produce kings of Israel."
The is an amazing Rashi given the context. Here Tamar says, "haker na," whoever these items belong to is the father of my baby. She deliberately avoided accusing Yehudah directly, and would have even been willing to give up her life rather than embarrass him in public should he refuse to admit guilt. Yet, that's not why Tamar earned the reward of malchus! It's because of her tzeniyus, not her mesirus nefesh, that she was deserving of producing kings.
Were I a Beis Ya'akov teacher, this would be an easy home run derasha for the week. "Kol kevudah **bas melech** pnimah..." (The 45:14) The midah of tzeniyus and the midah of malchus go hand in hand. (Why that should be so is something to explore further. Friday night is a long night -- plenty of time to think : )
The Midrash writes that Yehudah took no notice of Tamar at first, but a malach caused him to turn aside off the road and go to her. He was coerced somehow to fall into this situation so that malchus yisrael could arise. It sounds like a supernatural occurrence, a long shot that you would not bet on. So what was Tamar thinking? What was this girl, who was so tzanu'a, hoping for? Surely she could not have expected Yehudah to notice her or to be with her? It would be like hoping to win the lottery!
R' Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Musar 5733 #9) answers that when a person realizes great things are on the line, he/she will grasp at every straw and make every effort, no matter how slight the chance of success, to bring things to fruition. Tamar realized this was her chance -- a slight chance, but still, a chance -- to perhaps be the mother of malchus, the mother who will bring the lineage of mashiach into the world. No matter what the odds, no matter what effort she took, it was something she had to shoot for.
Still haven't had a chance to write about Chanukah -- never enough time.
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Dinah in the box
Rashi (32:23) writes that what happened to Dinah was a result of Ya'akov putting her in a box to keep her away from Eisav. Had Dinah married Eisav, she might have inspired him to do teshuvah, but thanks to Ya'akov, there was never a chance of that happening.
Why did the chance that Dinah might influence Eisav outweigh the potential danger of him influencing her, or her having a bad marriage? How does the benefit outweigh the downside risk? Why was Ya'akov wrong?
To compound the problem, the Midrash gives a completely different reason for what happened to Dina. In last week's parsha when Ya'akov made his deal with Lavan regarding which sheep Lavan would keep and which sheep would become part of Ya'akov's own flock, he told Lavan, "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar," my righteousness will speak for itself in the coming days. The Midrash (73:6) is critical of Ya'akov for this statement. "Al tishallel b'yom machar" -- you Ya'akov said "v'ansa... machar," therefore your daughter Dinah will suffer inuy at the hands of Shchem.
The first question that begs asking is what is the connection between Ya'akov's confident boast (if you will) to Lavan and what happened to Dinah. But secondly, which is it -- did Dinah come to harm at Shchem because Ya'akov put her in a box and kept her from Eisav, or because of what he said to Lavan?
Chasam Sofer explains that the two reasons go hand in hand. "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar" is a statement of tremendous bitachon. Ya'akov felt confident that what would happen would ultimately support his claims, his position, his righteousness because G-d had promised that no harm would come to him. The downside of boasting and being supremely confident based on bitachon is that you better be consistent, or you risk getting hoisted on your own petard (see this post.) Does someone completely confident that Hashem will protect him from all harm lock his daughter in a box? Ya'akov's own words to Lavan were the ruler against which his actions were judged, and he came up short.
I think this Chasam Sofer helps answer the question we started with. A normal person like me is bothered by the question of how we know Dinah would bring Eisav to teshuvah and not the other way around. But someone who is a big ba'al bitachon, 100% confident that Hashem will work things out in his favor -- that shouldn't be his concern. Hashem promised that he would come to no harm -- what's the issue?
Speaking of risk vs. reward, I saw a Brisker Rav quoted that I don't understand. Ya'akov said that if Eisav fights against part of the camp, "V'haya ha'machaneh ha'nishar l'pleitah," the other half will escape. How did he know that they will for sure escape? Rashi explains that Ya'akov meant that he will fight back and beat off Eisav. Mashma that Ya'akov knew that if he fights, he is going to win. So why did Ya'akov bother with the presents, the davening, etc. -- why not just fight and be done with it? QED, says the Brisker Rav, that you only fight when your back is against the wall and you've exhausted every other means of resolution at your disposal.
I don't understand how this Rashi supports making a blanket rule like that. Ya'akov may have been confident that he would win, but who says there would not be casualties? Maybe in the risk/benefit scale, the cost of even a victorious battle would have been greater than the cost of the presents sent to Eisav?
Last point for the week: the Chofetz Chaim asked why is it that the malach of Eisav, the yetzer ha'ra, came to fight davka against Ya'akov? Why did a bad malach not come to fight against Avraham or fight against Yitzchak?
The Chofetz Chaim answered that the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing chessed (Avraham), the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing mitzvos and avodah (Yitzchak), but the yetzer ha'ra cannot tolerate Torah. As long as a Jew is connected to Torah, "ohr she'bah machziro l'mutav" and the yetzer can never win. Therefore, it's against Ya'akov, the symbol of Torah, the yosheiv ohalim, that the heavy guns are brought out.
Why did the chance that Dinah might influence Eisav outweigh the potential danger of him influencing her, or her having a bad marriage? How does the benefit outweigh the downside risk? Why was Ya'akov wrong?
To compound the problem, the Midrash gives a completely different reason for what happened to Dina. In last week's parsha when Ya'akov made his deal with Lavan regarding which sheep Lavan would keep and which sheep would become part of Ya'akov's own flock, he told Lavan, "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar," my righteousness will speak for itself in the coming days. The Midrash (73:6) is critical of Ya'akov for this statement. "Al tishallel b'yom machar" -- you Ya'akov said "v'ansa... machar," therefore your daughter Dinah will suffer inuy at the hands of Shchem.
The first question that begs asking is what is the connection between Ya'akov's confident boast (if you will) to Lavan and what happened to Dinah. But secondly, which is it -- did Dinah come to harm at Shchem because Ya'akov put her in a box and kept her from Eisav, or because of what he said to Lavan?
Chasam Sofer explains that the two reasons go hand in hand. "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar" is a statement of tremendous bitachon. Ya'akov felt confident that what would happen would ultimately support his claims, his position, his righteousness because G-d had promised that no harm would come to him. The downside of boasting and being supremely confident based on bitachon is that you better be consistent, or you risk getting hoisted on your own petard (see this post.) Does someone completely confident that Hashem will protect him from all harm lock his daughter in a box? Ya'akov's own words to Lavan were the ruler against which his actions were judged, and he came up short.
I think this Chasam Sofer helps answer the question we started with. A normal person like me is bothered by the question of how we know Dinah would bring Eisav to teshuvah and not the other way around. But someone who is a big ba'al bitachon, 100% confident that Hashem will work things out in his favor -- that shouldn't be his concern. Hashem promised that he would come to no harm -- what's the issue?
Speaking of risk vs. reward, I saw a Brisker Rav quoted that I don't understand. Ya'akov said that if Eisav fights against part of the camp, "V'haya ha'machaneh ha'nishar l'pleitah," the other half will escape. How did he know that they will for sure escape? Rashi explains that Ya'akov meant that he will fight back and beat off Eisav. Mashma that Ya'akov knew that if he fights, he is going to win. So why did Ya'akov bother with the presents, the davening, etc. -- why not just fight and be done with it? QED, says the Brisker Rav, that you only fight when your back is against the wall and you've exhausted every other means of resolution at your disposal.
I don't understand how this Rashi supports making a blanket rule like that. Ya'akov may have been confident that he would win, but who says there would not be casualties? Maybe in the risk/benefit scale, the cost of even a victorious battle would have been greater than the cost of the presents sent to Eisav?
Last point for the week: the Chofetz Chaim asked why is it that the malach of Eisav, the yetzer ha'ra, came to fight davka against Ya'akov? Why did a bad malach not come to fight against Avraham or fight against Yitzchak?
The Chofetz Chaim answered that the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing chessed (Avraham), the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing mitzvos and avodah (Yitzchak), but the yetzer ha'ra cannot tolerate Torah. As long as a Jew is connected to Torah, "ohr she'bah machziro l'mutav" and the yetzer can never win. Therefore, it's against Ya'akov, the symbol of Torah, the yosheiv ohalim, that the heavy guns are brought out.
Thursday, December 08, 2016
the missed exit
Rashi (28:17) writes that Ya'akov Avinu walked right past the makom mikdash on his journey to Lavan's house. When he later realized what he had done, he turned around to go back. Hashem then made a miracle and through kefitzas ha'derech brought Har HaMoriah to Ya'akov to spare him the journey. (see Ramban).
The simple pshat in Rashi -- "ya'hiv da'atei lachzor" -- is that Ya'akov set his mind to go back to the makom hamikdash and daven there. R' Moshe Scheinerman, however, suggests a different, more creative reading. Ya'akov set his mind to go back to where he was coming from -- back to the yeshiva of Shem v'Eiver where he had been learning for 14 years. Ya'akov said to himself, "Here I've been immersed in Torah for 14 straight years, and the second I leave the beis medrash my spiritual antenna become so dulled that I can walk right past the makom mikdash and not feel anything!" The only solution would be to go back to the beis medrash and improve those spiritual antenna even more. We have to be so careful when leaving the makom Torah, no matter who we are and no matter how long we have spent there, to keep our spiritual sensitivity intact.
But let's get back to the simple pshat in Rashi. Why did Hashem wait for Ya'akov to realize that he had missed an important exit on the highway and start to turn around before intervening? Why didn't Hashem stop Ya'akov before he passed Har HaMoriah in the first place?
I am going to steal a story from R' Eliezer Eisenberg's blog post from last week:
The story gives us the perspective to understand a yesod of R' Yerucham Lebovitz (in Da'as Torah on P' Braishis I think). When Ya'akov walked by the makom mikdash, he wasn't looking for anything, and so Hashem didn't come looking for him. Hashem does not ordinarily go out of His way to awaken people from their state of oblivion. However, the second Ya'akov realized his error, he became a "mevakesh" -- he immediately turned around and desired to be at the makom mikdash and to daven. When you are a "mevakesh" and are looking for Hashem, then Hashem reveals himself in kind. When you are a "mevakesh," then Hashem will even move mountains to help you on your quest.
Ya'akov's instituted the tefilah of arvis here. At first glance you would say that shacharis and mincha are far superior tefilos to arvis. There is a chiyuv to daven shacharis and mincha; tefilas arvis is a reshus (whatever that technically means). Yet we know that Ya'akov Avinu is the bechir of the Avos. How could his tefilah be the lowest rung on the ladder?
Rav Kook explains that it is precisely because arvis is a reshus that it is the greatest tefilah. When it comes to shacharis and mincha, the chiyuv is like a halachic gun to your head, so to speak. There is no choice other than to daven. When it comes to arvis, there is not that type of obligation. A person has to choose to daven arvis. A person has to be a mevakesh.
The simple pshat in Rashi -- "ya'hiv da'atei lachzor" -- is that Ya'akov set his mind to go back to the makom hamikdash and daven there. R' Moshe Scheinerman, however, suggests a different, more creative reading. Ya'akov set his mind to go back to where he was coming from -- back to the yeshiva of Shem v'Eiver where he had been learning for 14 years. Ya'akov said to himself, "Here I've been immersed in Torah for 14 straight years, and the second I leave the beis medrash my spiritual antenna become so dulled that I can walk right past the makom mikdash and not feel anything!" The only solution would be to go back to the beis medrash and improve those spiritual antenna even more. We have to be so careful when leaving the makom Torah, no matter who we are and no matter how long we have spent there, to keep our spiritual sensitivity intact.
But let's get back to the simple pshat in Rashi. Why did Hashem wait for Ya'akov to realize that he had missed an important exit on the highway and start to turn around before intervening? Why didn't Hashem stop Ya'akov before he passed Har HaMoriah in the first place?
I am going to steal a story from R' Eliezer Eisenberg's blog post from last week:
The true story is that Reb Chaim Shmuelevitz used to spend Ellul with his uncle, Reb Avraham Jofen, in Novarodok. He asked him who is the biggest metzuyan in the yeshiva, and Reb Avraham pointed to a certain bachur. Reb Chaim was surprised, and asked, not the Steipler? Reb Avraham answered "You didn't ask who was the biggest lamdan. You asked who is the biggest metzuyan. That bachur is the biggest metzuyan, because he is the biggest mevakesh in the Yeshiva.
The story gives us the perspective to understand a yesod of R' Yerucham Lebovitz (in Da'as Torah on P' Braishis I think). When Ya'akov walked by the makom mikdash, he wasn't looking for anything, and so Hashem didn't come looking for him. Hashem does not ordinarily go out of His way to awaken people from their state of oblivion. However, the second Ya'akov realized his error, he became a "mevakesh" -- he immediately turned around and desired to be at the makom mikdash and to daven. When you are a "mevakesh" and are looking for Hashem, then Hashem reveals himself in kind. When you are a "mevakesh," then Hashem will even move mountains to help you on your quest.
Ya'akov's instituted the tefilah of arvis here. At first glance you would say that shacharis and mincha are far superior tefilos to arvis. There is a chiyuv to daven shacharis and mincha; tefilas arvis is a reshus (whatever that technically means). Yet we know that Ya'akov Avinu is the bechir of the Avos. How could his tefilah be the lowest rung on the ladder?
Rav Kook explains that it is precisely because arvis is a reshus that it is the greatest tefilah. When it comes to shacharis and mincha, the chiyuv is like a halachic gun to your head, so to speak. There is no choice other than to daven. When it comes to arvis, there is not that type of obligation. A person has to choose to daven arvis. A person has to be a mevakesh.
Thursday, December 01, 2016
which was the cause and which was the effect
The Netziv in last week's parsha says something very interesting. The relationship between Rivka and Yitzchak was quite different than the relationship between Avraham and Sarah or even that of Ya'akov and his wives. Sarah had no qualms about telling Avraham how she felt about Yishmael and demanding that he kick him out of the house. Rivka doesn't communicate with Yitzchak. She knows Ya'akov deserves the brachos, but instead of telling Yitzchak directly, she arranges this whole surreptitious way of making sure he gets them. The Netziv says all this, but I think many a careful reader could figure it out too. What makes the Netziv fascinating is that the average careful reader would conclude that it's the lack of communication between Rivka and Yitzchak which is the cause of Ya'akov having to steal the brachos. The Netziv (24:65) says that it's the exact opposite. G-d wanted Ya'akov to get the brachos by "stealing" them from Eisav (see Harchev Davar to 27:1 as to why). To allow for the brachos to be gotten by "theft," Hashem caused there to be a different type of relationship between Yitzchak and Rivka. You have to know which is the horse and which is the wagon, what's the cause and what's the effect.
This distance between Yitzchak and Rivka is not something which develops over time, but rather, writes the Netziv, is set from the moment the two meet. When Rivka first sees Yitzchak, she reacts with fear and trepidation, falling from her camel, while Yitzchak is completely focused on his tefilah, blind to Rivka's presence. That meeting sets the tone for the rest of their marriage. All this so that 83 years later Ya'akov would be put in a position to use trickery to get the bracha meant for Eisav. Can you imagine Hashem causing something to happen on your first date with your wife that will set the tone of your relationship in such a way so that 83 years later some other event will work out in your lives or your children's lives?
Chazal darshen "Va'yar Elokim es kol asher asah v'hinei tov me'od" that "tov ME'OD" is the yetzer ha'ra, the malacha ha'maves. In other words, it's Eisav. "Va'yeilech haloch v'gadeil ad ki gadal ME'OD." (26:13) Yitzchak Avinu was as great as that power of "me'od." The yetzer ha'ra turns good to bad; Yitzchak thought he could inspire and turn bad to good. Isn't doing that even greater than being good to begin with? "B'chol levacha" = with both sides of your heart, so that even the Eisav side cooperates. When Eisav entered the room as Ya'akov was departing after taking the brachos, and Yitzchak finally realized the truth of who Eisav was, it's not just "va'yecherad charadah gedolah," but it's "va'yecherad charadah gedolah ad ME'OD." (see here) His dreams of overcoming "tov ME'OD" = the malach ha'maves, the yetzer ha'ra, the evil of Eisav, had been dashed. (See Sefas Emes 5631)
This distance between Yitzchak and Rivka is not something which develops over time, but rather, writes the Netziv, is set from the moment the two meet. When Rivka first sees Yitzchak, she reacts with fear and trepidation, falling from her camel, while Yitzchak is completely focused on his tefilah, blind to Rivka's presence. That meeting sets the tone for the rest of their marriage. All this so that 83 years later Ya'akov would be put in a position to use trickery to get the bracha meant for Eisav. Can you imagine Hashem causing something to happen on your first date with your wife that will set the tone of your relationship in such a way so that 83 years later some other event will work out in your lives or your children's lives?
Chazal darshen "Va'yar Elokim es kol asher asah v'hinei tov me'od" that "tov ME'OD" is the yetzer ha'ra, the malacha ha'maves. In other words, it's Eisav. "Va'yeilech haloch v'gadeil ad ki gadal ME'OD." (26:13) Yitzchak Avinu was as great as that power of "me'od." The yetzer ha'ra turns good to bad; Yitzchak thought he could inspire and turn bad to good. Isn't doing that even greater than being good to begin with? "B'chol levacha" = with both sides of your heart, so that even the Eisav side cooperates. When Eisav entered the room as Ya'akov was departing after taking the brachos, and Yitzchak finally realized the truth of who Eisav was, it's not just "va'yecherad charadah gedolah," but it's "va'yecherad charadah gedolah ad ME'OD." (see here) His dreams of overcoming "tov ME'OD" = the malach ha'maves, the yetzer ha'ra, the evil of Eisav, had been dashed. (See Sefas Emes 5631)
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
a whiff of the future
The Midrash in Parshas Noach comments on the pasuk "Vayarach Hashem es rei'ach ha'nicho'ach" that Hashem was smelling not just the fragrant odor of Noach's korban, but was also smelling Avraham in the furnace of Nimrod, he was smelling Chananya, Mishael, v'Azarya in their oven, he was smelling the sweet scent of all those who sacrifice their lives al kiddush Hashem.
When you walk through the front door of your home on Friday afternoon, you know what is cooking and your mouth begins to water even before you see the food on the stove, hear the clanging of pots and silverware, or even get to the kitchen. The aroma and smell of Shabbos food beckons and causes us to anticipate the meal ahead, the Shabbos ahead. Similarly, even though Avraham hadn't come on the scene yet, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were in the distant future, as was the sacrifice of so many others, Hashem already "smelled" and anticipated what was coming. That whiff the future proved that there was hope for mankind.
Rosh Chodesh too is a holiday of smell, of anticipation. The Shem m'Shmuel (Noach 5675) writes that the letters of the word for moon, "yareiach" = yud, reish, cheis, are the same letters as "rei'ach"=reish, yud, cheis. Rosh Chodesh comes when the moon is just a sliver, but we look forward to the day when we sill see "ohr ha'levanah k'ohr hachamah." We say in Kiddush hachodesh, "David melech yisrael chai v'kayam," in anticipation of the restoration of malchus beis David. We're not there yet, but we celebrate because we "smell" what is coming.
The gemara (Eiruvin 21) interprets Yirmiyahu's vision (ch 24) of two pots of figs, one of good figs, one of bad ones, as symbolic of tzadikim and evildoers. Perhaps, says the gemara, these rotten figs are have no value and should be tossed in the trash? The gemara responds by quoting the pasuk, "Hadudaim nasnu rei'ach," (Shir haShirim 7)interpreting "dudaim" not as mandrakes, but as the dud, the pot, of rotting figs. That pot too will give off a sweet smell. That pot may not look like much now, but Hashem smells, Hashem anticipates, and he detects a brighter future.
When I saw this Shem m'Shmuel back in Parshas Noach I put it in the back of my mind to post now because I can't understand why he didn't tie it into our parsha. Yitzchak smells the odor of Eisav's garments, "Va'yarach es rei'ach begadav." Chazal read it not as "begadav," Eisav's clothes, but "bogdav," those who rebel against Hashem. "Re'ei rei'ach b'ni k'rei'ach sadeh asher beiracho Hashem" -- Yitzchak remarks that he smells a field blessed by G-d. Yitzchak doesn't see rebellion; he smells bracha. Perhaps his loss of sight allowed Yitzchak to focus on and anticipate the future instead of dwelling only on the here and now before him, to smell instead of just seeing, and as a result, those "bogdav," rebels, he knew would turn out to be blessed as well.
When you walk through the front door of your home on Friday afternoon, you know what is cooking and your mouth begins to water even before you see the food on the stove, hear the clanging of pots and silverware, or even get to the kitchen. The aroma and smell of Shabbos food beckons and causes us to anticipate the meal ahead, the Shabbos ahead. Similarly, even though Avraham hadn't come on the scene yet, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were in the distant future, as was the sacrifice of so many others, Hashem already "smelled" and anticipated what was coming. That whiff the future proved that there was hope for mankind.
Rosh Chodesh too is a holiday of smell, of anticipation. The Shem m'Shmuel (Noach 5675) writes that the letters of the word for moon, "yareiach" = yud, reish, cheis, are the same letters as "rei'ach"=reish, yud, cheis. Rosh Chodesh comes when the moon is just a sliver, but we look forward to the day when we sill see "ohr ha'levanah k'ohr hachamah." We say in Kiddush hachodesh, "David melech yisrael chai v'kayam," in anticipation of the restoration of malchus beis David. We're not there yet, but we celebrate because we "smell" what is coming.
The gemara (Eiruvin 21) interprets Yirmiyahu's vision (ch 24) of two pots of figs, one of good figs, one of bad ones, as symbolic of tzadikim and evildoers. Perhaps, says the gemara, these rotten figs are have no value and should be tossed in the trash? The gemara responds by quoting the pasuk, "Hadudaim nasnu rei'ach," (Shir haShirim 7)interpreting "dudaim" not as mandrakes, but as the dud, the pot, of rotting figs. That pot too will give off a sweet smell. That pot may not look like much now, but Hashem smells, Hashem anticipates, and he detects a brighter future.
When I saw this Shem m'Shmuel back in Parshas Noach I put it in the back of my mind to post now because I can't understand why he didn't tie it into our parsha. Yitzchak smells the odor of Eisav's garments, "Va'yarach es rei'ach begadav." Chazal read it not as "begadav," Eisav's clothes, but "bogdav," those who rebel against Hashem. "Re'ei rei'ach b'ni k'rei'ach sadeh asher beiracho Hashem" -- Yitzchak remarks that he smells a field blessed by G-d. Yitzchak doesn't see rebellion; he smells bracha. Perhaps his loss of sight allowed Yitzchak to focus on and anticipate the future instead of dwelling only on the here and now before him, to smell instead of just seeing, and as a result, those "bogdav," rebels, he knew would turn out to be blessed as well.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
water from the well
1. Eliezer begins his prayer to Hashem to bring him the right girl for Yitzchak with the words, "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," (24:13) I am standing next to the well. Aside from the fact that the Torah already told us (24:11) that he had tied up his camels next to the well, the information seems entirely unnecessary in context.
Abarbanel explains that these words are key. If you are sitting in your home in the living room or some other room and ask one of your kids to bring you a drink, a good kid will (sooner or later) bring you the drink. But if you are standing in the kitchen next to the refrigerator and ask your kid to pour you a drink, it would be very hard for any modern kid to not at least be thinking, if not to say openly, "Why can't you get it yourself since you are standing right there?" That's just the reality of the way things are, and they probably were not that different back in Avraham's time. "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," says Eliezer -- I'm next to the refrigerator. I'm not just looking for a good girl who will bring me water when I'm a bit far away from the well. I'm looking for the girl who won't think twice about drawing the water for me even when I'm standing right there and could do it myself. That's a real special girl.
2. Yitzchak brought Rivka "ha'ohela Sarah imo," into his mother Sarah's tent. (24:67) "Ha'ohela" is a strange construction. In Hebrew there is usually not a hey ha'yediah in front of a possessive, e.g. you would say "beis chaveircha" if you were talking about a friend's house, but not "ha'beis chaveircha." See Ibn Ezra. Also, the final hey in ha'ohela seems completely out of place. HaKsav v'haKabbalah, as he always does, has an interesting linguistic insight that sheds new light (you will get the pun soon) on a pasuk we read in pesukei d'zimra every Shabbos.
In Tehillim ch 19 we read that Hashem created the heavens and sky, "b'kol ha'aretz yaztah kavam u'bi'k'tzey teivel mileihem, la'shemesh sam ohel ba'hem." The first half of the pasuk means the sky is spread over the earth, causing people to speak of its wonder (Rashi), or it's as if it declares G-d's wonders (Metzudah). The way the Rishonim explain the second half is that G-d made the sky like a tent, an ohel, which contains the sun. That's the translation you will find in your Artscroll siddur. However, that's not how the Targum renders it. Targum translates as follows: "l'shimsha shavei mishrivei ziharah be'hon" -- the sun casts its bright rays on them. Ohel can mean light.
The word uses the word ha'ohela in our pasuk, explains HaKsav v'haKabbalah, to suggest the secondary meaning of asher ohela, which gave light. The tent of Sarah, the tent of Rivka, was a place of light whose rays emanated out to the world (see Tagrum Yonasan as well).
Abarbanel explains that these words are key. If you are sitting in your home in the living room or some other room and ask one of your kids to bring you a drink, a good kid will (sooner or later) bring you the drink. But if you are standing in the kitchen next to the refrigerator and ask your kid to pour you a drink, it would be very hard for any modern kid to not at least be thinking, if not to say openly, "Why can't you get it yourself since you are standing right there?" That's just the reality of the way things are, and they probably were not that different back in Avraham's time. "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," says Eliezer -- I'm next to the refrigerator. I'm not just looking for a good girl who will bring me water when I'm a bit far away from the well. I'm looking for the girl who won't think twice about drawing the water for me even when I'm standing right there and could do it myself. That's a real special girl.
2. Yitzchak brought Rivka "ha'ohela Sarah imo," into his mother Sarah's tent. (24:67) "Ha'ohela" is a strange construction. In Hebrew there is usually not a hey ha'yediah in front of a possessive, e.g. you would say "beis chaveircha" if you were talking about a friend's house, but not "ha'beis chaveircha." See Ibn Ezra. Also, the final hey in ha'ohela seems completely out of place. HaKsav v'haKabbalah, as he always does, has an interesting linguistic insight that sheds new light (you will get the pun soon) on a pasuk we read in pesukei d'zimra every Shabbos.
In Tehillim ch 19 we read that Hashem created the heavens and sky, "b'kol ha'aretz yaztah kavam u'bi'k'tzey teivel mileihem, la'shemesh sam ohel ba'hem." The first half of the pasuk means the sky is spread over the earth, causing people to speak of its wonder (Rashi), or it's as if it declares G-d's wonders (Metzudah). The way the Rishonim explain the second half is that G-d made the sky like a tent, an ohel, which contains the sun. That's the translation you will find in your Artscroll siddur. However, that's not how the Targum renders it. Targum translates as follows: "l'shimsha shavei mishrivei ziharah be'hon" -- the sun casts its bright rays on them. Ohel can mean light.
The word uses the word ha'ohela in our pasuk, explains HaKsav v'haKabbalah, to suggest the secondary meaning of asher ohela, which gave light. The tent of Sarah, the tent of Rivka, was a place of light whose rays emanated out to the world (see Tagrum Yonasan as well).
Sunday, November 20, 2016
a mother can always carry her child
1. A fancy answer to why the malach sent to save Lot visited Avraham first (see last post)is as follows: Lot was saved because he would give rise to Moav, leading to Rus, leading to David haMelech and the lineage of Moshiach. Even in David's lifetime, there was those who thought he should not even be accepted and allowed to marry into Klal Yisrael. After all, the Torah says with respect to an Amoni and Moavi, "lo yavo b'kahal Hashem." The counterview, which prevailed l'halacha, darshened the pasuk as applying to a Moavi -- but not a Moavis, which meant Rus was kosher. What is that derasha based on? The reason the Moavim were excluded is because, "asher lo kidmu eschem b'lechem..." that they did not come out and offer food and drink to Bnei Yisrael when they passed their territory. It is the job of the men, not the women, to go out and greet others, says the gemara, and so only the males are excluded from Klal Yisrael. The proof that this is correct comes from our parsha. When the angels come to Avraham tent, they ask, "Ayei Sarah ishtecha?" where is Sarah. Avraham was the one who greeted and served the guests; Sarah remained behind the scenes, demonstrating her tzeniyus. The malach sent to Sdom had to see this behavior to ratify the derasha that excluded Moavi women, allowing for the future hechsher of Rus and David, which justified Lot's being saved.
Last's posts answer was easier to explain : )
2. Rashi writes that Yishmael was arguing with Yitzchak over the right of inheritance, and therefore he and Hagar were expelled from Avraham's home. How old was Yishmael at this time? Remember, Yishmael was already 13 when Yitzchak was born, and if the events of the parsha are recorded in order, Yitzchak was already more than 2 years old, as they already had a party to celebrate his being weaned. Realistically, he must have been a few years older to understand yerushah. So was Yismael around 20? (The Midrash says he was 17). How can Rashi be correct, asks Ramban, when we read in the parsha that Hagar hoisted the sick Yishmael (called a 'yeled') on her shoulders? Could Hagar carry a 20 year old boy plus the provisions she had?
R' Shteinman answers that no matter how big Yishmael was, a mother always has the strength to bear the burden of carrying her child.
I don't know if it's a pshat answer (see Gur Aryeh and the meforshei Rashi who discuss the issue), but it's an answer that's true anyway.
3. Speaking of bearing burdens, there is a Tzeidah la'Derech that has a beautiful comment on the repetition of "vayeilchu sh'neihem yachdav" 22:6 and again in 22:8 in the akeidah. Since the Torah makes the point of saying it a second time, it means that the first time didn't work, that the were not walking in sync yet until the second time.
An elderly person and a young person usually do not walk at the same pace. Avraham was an old man; he would have walked more slowly than the younger Yitzchak. In 22:6 the Torah tells us that Avraham gave Yitzchak the burden of carrying the wood to slow him up so that they would walk together, the first "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav."
Apparently even with the wood on his back, Yiztchak was walking faster. The Torah then tells us that Yitzchak asked Avraham where the sheep for the korban is -- they have the wood, the knife, etc., but no animal? Avraham (22:8) cryptically answered that G-d will show them then sheep. Yitzchak at that moment understood exactly what was going to transpire, that he was the korban. Now, "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav." The burden of the wood was something he could carry and still outpace the gait of Avraham, but the psychological burden of the impending akeidah was enough to slow Yitzchak's gait to match that of his father.
Last's posts answer was easier to explain : )
2. Rashi writes that Yishmael was arguing with Yitzchak over the right of inheritance, and therefore he and Hagar were expelled from Avraham's home. How old was Yishmael at this time? Remember, Yishmael was already 13 when Yitzchak was born, and if the events of the parsha are recorded in order, Yitzchak was already more than 2 years old, as they already had a party to celebrate his being weaned. Realistically, he must have been a few years older to understand yerushah. So was Yismael around 20? (The Midrash says he was 17). How can Rashi be correct, asks Ramban, when we read in the parsha that Hagar hoisted the sick Yishmael (called a 'yeled') on her shoulders? Could Hagar carry a 20 year old boy plus the provisions she had?
R' Shteinman answers that no matter how big Yishmael was, a mother always has the strength to bear the burden of carrying her child.
I don't know if it's a pshat answer (see Gur Aryeh and the meforshei Rashi who discuss the issue), but it's an answer that's true anyway.
3. Speaking of bearing burdens, there is a Tzeidah la'Derech that has a beautiful comment on the repetition of "vayeilchu sh'neihem yachdav" 22:6 and again in 22:8 in the akeidah. Since the Torah makes the point of saying it a second time, it means that the first time didn't work, that the were not walking in sync yet until the second time.
An elderly person and a young person usually do not walk at the same pace. Avraham was an old man; he would have walked more slowly than the younger Yitzchak. In 22:6 the Torah tells us that Avraham gave Yitzchak the burden of carrying the wood to slow him up so that they would walk together, the first "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav."
Apparently even with the wood on his back, Yiztchak was walking faster. The Torah then tells us that Yitzchak asked Avraham where the sheep for the korban is -- they have the wood, the knife, etc., but no animal? Avraham (22:8) cryptically answered that G-d will show them then sheep. Yitzchak at that moment understood exactly what was going to transpire, that he was the korban. Now, "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav." The burden of the wood was something he could carry and still outpace the gait of Avraham, but the psychological burden of the impending akeidah was enough to slow Yitzchak's gait to match that of his father.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
why the malach sent to destroy Sdom visited Avraham first
After posting earlier in the week about "Lot yosehiv b'Sdom," I guess the logical place to start on the new parsha would be the description of Avraham, "v'hu yosheiv pesach ha'ohel." Avraham experienced post-milah a tremendous revelation of G-d's presence, and nonetheless, Avraham remained "yosheiv," present tense, in the doorway, at the threshold, feeling not yet there, like he had not yet entered and arrived at where he wants to be (Sefas Emes). That's how we all should feel, otherwise we would stop growing.
Chazal tell us that the three visitors who came to Avraham were in reality three malachim, one of whom came to heal Avraham, one of whom came to tell Sarah that she would have a child, and one of whom came to destroy Sdom. Why did this last malach need to visit Avraham’s home? Couldn’t he have gone directly to Sdom? (See Gur Aryeh)
One of the strategies used by oppressors is to dehumanize their victims and enemies so that it becomes easier to treat them harshly. The Torah takes the opposite approach. The Ne’os Desheh of Ishbitz explains that before administering justice, the malach of din needed to first see the potential for greatness in mankind -- the gemilus chassadim Avraham demonstrated and the heights simple flesh and blood can rise to. At first, when the malachim arrived they were “nitzavim alav,” standing above, i.e. on a higher madreiga, than where they thought even Avraham could be holding. By the time the food was served, “v’hu omeid aleihem,” he stood above them. When they left, the Torah tells us that Avraham escorted his guests, “v’hu holeich imam." Something of Avraham’s chessed was carried with those angels even as they continued on their way to fulfill their mission of destruction. Avraham's efforts could not help Sdom, but the payback would come years later when Bnei Yisrael themselves would be deserving of punishment but would be spared. The midas ha'din was tempered by having seen the greatness of Avraham's home. (I'm not sure what I wrote fits what the Ishbitzer says exactly, so blame me if you don't like it, and see Sefas Emes in a few places on "ha'michaseh ani mei'Avraham" who says something similar).
The malachim finally get to Sdom in time for a Pesach seder with Lot. What's going on here with Lot baking matzah to serve them? I think the answer is that this is Lot's yetzi'as Mitzrayim. This is the night where even though "halalu ovdei avodah zarah v'halalu ovdei avodah zarah," even though Lot was not so different than the people of Sdom (after all, he chose to live there), and might not even deserve to be saved on his own merits, he would get pulled out of the fire. Just as Bnei Yisrael could not tarry when they left Egypt, the malachim tell Lot not to tarry -- to just run.
"Va'tabeit ishto mei'acharav..." On the way, Lot's wife looked back. Shouldn't it say "mei'achareha," in the feminine? When Moshe Rabeinu asked Hashem to reveal Himself, meaning, to explain the mystery of tzadik v'ra lo v'rasha v'tov lo, Hashem answered, "v'ra'isa es achorai u'panay lo yeira'u," you can see my back but not my face. We can only understand in hindsight, from a great distance away in time. We cannot understand things so clearly as they unfold before us. Lot's wife looked back at Sdom and struggled at that moment to understand the "mei'acharav," the back of Hashem, the hindsight view, the explanation for Divine justice. That was a privilege that she did not deserve to enjoy. (see Alshich)
Chazal tell us that the three visitors who came to Avraham were in reality three malachim, one of whom came to heal Avraham, one of whom came to tell Sarah that she would have a child, and one of whom came to destroy Sdom. Why did this last malach need to visit Avraham’s home? Couldn’t he have gone directly to Sdom? (See Gur Aryeh)
One of the strategies used by oppressors is to dehumanize their victims and enemies so that it becomes easier to treat them harshly. The Torah takes the opposite approach. The Ne’os Desheh of Ishbitz explains that before administering justice, the malach of din needed to first see the potential for greatness in mankind -- the gemilus chassadim Avraham demonstrated and the heights simple flesh and blood can rise to. At first, when the malachim arrived they were “nitzavim alav,” standing above, i.e. on a higher madreiga, than where they thought even Avraham could be holding. By the time the food was served, “v’hu omeid aleihem,” he stood above them. When they left, the Torah tells us that Avraham escorted his guests, “v’hu holeich imam." Something of Avraham’s chessed was carried with those angels even as they continued on their way to fulfill their mission of destruction. Avraham's efforts could not help Sdom, but the payback would come years later when Bnei Yisrael themselves would be deserving of punishment but would be spared. The midas ha'din was tempered by having seen the greatness of Avraham's home. (I'm not sure what I wrote fits what the Ishbitzer says exactly, so blame me if you don't like it, and see Sefas Emes in a few places on "ha'michaseh ani mei'Avraham" who says something similar).
The malachim finally get to Sdom in time for a Pesach seder with Lot. What's going on here with Lot baking matzah to serve them? I think the answer is that this is Lot's yetzi'as Mitzrayim. This is the night where even though "halalu ovdei avodah zarah v'halalu ovdei avodah zarah," even though Lot was not so different than the people of Sdom (after all, he chose to live there), and might not even deserve to be saved on his own merits, he would get pulled out of the fire. Just as Bnei Yisrael could not tarry when they left Egypt, the malachim tell Lot not to tarry -- to just run.
"Va'tabeit ishto mei'acharav..." On the way, Lot's wife looked back. Shouldn't it say "mei'achareha," in the feminine? When Moshe Rabeinu asked Hashem to reveal Himself, meaning, to explain the mystery of tzadik v'ra lo v'rasha v'tov lo, Hashem answered, "v'ra'isa es achorai u'panay lo yeira'u," you can see my back but not my face. We can only understand in hindsight, from a great distance away in time. We cannot understand things so clearly as they unfold before us. Lot's wife looked back at Sdom and struggled at that moment to understand the "mei'acharav," the back of Hashem, the hindsight view, the explanation for Divine justice. That was a privilege that she did not deserve to enjoy. (see Alshich)
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