Last in the list of items donated for the Mishkan mentioned in the opening of P' Terumah are the precious stones of the avnei milu'im and avnei sho'ham. Chazal (see Kiddushin 31) tell us that these stones literally cost a fortune. So why are they mentioned last? Why not give these gifts the prominence they deserve and mention them first, at the beginning of the list of donations?
The Ohr haChaim gives two answers, both elaborated on by R' Chaim Shmuelevitz in his Sichos Mussar (5732 #22). I want to focus on the second answer.
Rashi in our parsha (35:27) tells us that these precious stones were donated by the nesi'im, the princes of the tribes, after everyone else had given their gifts. The nesi'im said: let everyone else donate, and whatever shortfall is left, whatever is needed to complete the job, we'll make it up. Because they procrastinated, says Rashi, the word nesi'im in our parsha is written chaseir, missing a letter "yud." And, writes the Ohr haChaim, because they waited until the end of the collection to bring their gifts, these gifts are recorded last on the list, as if they were lacking in importance.
What do you think the reaction of a yeshiva administrator or shul president would be if someone were to tell them that whatever the budget shortfall for the year is, they will cover it, no matter what the amount? That gvir just made that administrator or that shul treasurer's year! No more having the plead people for money, no more worry about cash flow, about spending, etc.
What's so wrong with what the nesi'im did?
Answers R' Chaim Shmuelevitz: it's a wonderful cheshbon, but when you love something, you don't make cheshbonos. When you love something and are passionate about it, you can't stop yourself from being involved from the get-go.
I want to add two points.
A) R' Chaim Shmuelevitz sees this idea as a general principle in avodas Hashem. I would like to suggest that it may be especially relevant, if not exclusively applicable, to the Mishkan. "V'asu li Mikdash... k'chol asher ani mareh oscha... kein ta'asu." (25:8-9) The sentence starts "v'asu...;" why repeat "v'kein ta'asu" at the end? Answers Ramban: ba ha'keifel l'chizuk u'l'ziruz. The Torah repeats to add emphasis because the command to build the Mishkan must be fulfilled with alacrity and with zealousness.
Maybe the cheshbon of making up the shortfall is not such a bad idea when you deal with your local yeshiva or local shul, but when it comes to building the Mishkan when there is an explicit command to act with zerizus, then all bets are off, all cheshbonos should fall by the wayside.
B) Why do we need a command to act b'zerizus with respect to building the Mishkan in particular? I would suggest as follows: Rashi in last week's parsha writes that the people thought Moshe Rabeinu was late in coming down from Har Sinai and they went into panic mode. They thought Moshe was dead, they thought they were leaderless, and the rest is history -- cheit ha'eigel.
But they had an excuse -- by their estimation, Moshe had not come back!?
That excuse is no excuse. If you love someone, then what's a few extra hours, an extra day, of waiting to see if they will come back? If you love someone, how do you so easily give up hope of seeing them again?
The Mishkan is a kapparah for the cheit ha'eigel. If the sin of the eigel was because we did not love Moshe Rabeinu enough to wait for him just a little longer before throwing in the towel. The tikun has to be showing our love and passion for the Mishkan, for Hashem. The way to do that is by rushing to give, not making cheshbonos.
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
Thursday, February 21, 2019
nikras HA'tzur -- THE very important rock
Sorry, not a lot of time this week, so this will be brief. 2 quick points.
1) "Kol milchama ba'machaneh." Yehoshua was the one who led Bnei Yisrael in their battle against Amalek, which was as much clash of competing ideologies as a physical battle. Amalek attacked those stragglers who were outside the ananei ha'kavod, those on the periphery of the camp. When Yehoshua heard the commotion of eigel worship taking place, he recognized that sound -- "kol milchama," that's the sound of battle with Amalek, with evil, but now it is, "ba'machaneh," the battle has penetrated the camp itself and is not longer restricted to the periphery. (Sefas Emes)
2) If you have a minute, look back at the few pesukim at the beginning of ch 17 in Parshas Beshalach. There we are told that Bnei Yisrael were camped in Refidim and had no water. After the complaining started, Hashem told Moshe to take his staff, take the Zekeinim, and "avor lifnei ha'am... v'halachta," go walk out from the people. "Hineini omeid lifnecha al ha'tzur b'Chorev," G-d says he is waiting by a rock at Chorev. All Moshe has to do is hit the rock and it will produce water. You know the rest of the story.
I don't know why I never paid attention to the fact that although the people were camped in Refidim, that's not where the miracle of the rock producing water happened. Moshe had to leave the camp and go to Chorev, and it was there that the miracle happened. Why? Why not just give them water in Refidim?
Moshe already knew Chorev was a significant place. G-d does not tell Moshe that he *will stand* -- ya'amod -- future tense, at the rock to do the miracle, but rather G-d is "omed," already standing there. Chorev was the desert where Moshe took Yisro's sheep to graze and where he saw the burning bush. G-d told Moshe, "You know already where I stand, where I can be found -- go back to that same place."
But more important than what had already happened in Chorev is what will happen there. Chorev is where we came after Refidim in order to get the Torah. There is a deliberate parallel here: G-d, the Tzur Tamim, gives Torah at Chorev, without which we cannot live; Moshe hits the tzur (note the word tzur is used for rock in this parsha, as opposed to the word sela, which is used in Chukas) at Chorev to get water, without which we cannot live. "Ain mayim elah Torah." The going out of the camp, the turning of attention to Chorev, is meant to bring the people to the realization of this parallel -- Torah is like water for the neshoma. We can't live without it. (The Ramban touches on this, but it is spelled out beautifully in the Abarbanel at the end of Beshalach.)
When Moshe in our parsha asks Hashem to reveal himself, Hashem responds that Moshe can only view what little he can see from within "nikras HA'tzur," a cleft in THE rock, with a "hey ha'yediya." THE rock means the famous rock, the same rock that Moshe hit back in Parshas Beshalach! You want Hashem to reveal himself? Then you have to bury yourself in the concept that ruchniyus is as essential as water for your survival, the concept THE rock revealed. If Torah is your life, then you will experience Hashem revealing himself to the fullest.
1) "Kol milchama ba'machaneh." Yehoshua was the one who led Bnei Yisrael in their battle against Amalek, which was as much clash of competing ideologies as a physical battle. Amalek attacked those stragglers who were outside the ananei ha'kavod, those on the periphery of the camp. When Yehoshua heard the commotion of eigel worship taking place, he recognized that sound -- "kol milchama," that's the sound of battle with Amalek, with evil, but now it is, "ba'machaneh," the battle has penetrated the camp itself and is not longer restricted to the periphery. (Sefas Emes)
2) If you have a minute, look back at the few pesukim at the beginning of ch 17 in Parshas Beshalach. There we are told that Bnei Yisrael were camped in Refidim and had no water. After the complaining started, Hashem told Moshe to take his staff, take the Zekeinim, and "avor lifnei ha'am... v'halachta," go walk out from the people. "Hineini omeid lifnecha al ha'tzur b'Chorev," G-d says he is waiting by a rock at Chorev. All Moshe has to do is hit the rock and it will produce water. You know the rest of the story.
I don't know why I never paid attention to the fact that although the people were camped in Refidim, that's not where the miracle of the rock producing water happened. Moshe had to leave the camp and go to Chorev, and it was there that the miracle happened. Why? Why not just give them water in Refidim?
Moshe already knew Chorev was a significant place. G-d does not tell Moshe that he *will stand* -- ya'amod -- future tense, at the rock to do the miracle, but rather G-d is "omed," already standing there. Chorev was the desert where Moshe took Yisro's sheep to graze and where he saw the burning bush. G-d told Moshe, "You know already where I stand, where I can be found -- go back to that same place."
But more important than what had already happened in Chorev is what will happen there. Chorev is where we came after Refidim in order to get the Torah. There is a deliberate parallel here: G-d, the Tzur Tamim, gives Torah at Chorev, without which we cannot live; Moshe hits the tzur (note the word tzur is used for rock in this parsha, as opposed to the word sela, which is used in Chukas) at Chorev to get water, without which we cannot live. "Ain mayim elah Torah." The going out of the camp, the turning of attention to Chorev, is meant to bring the people to the realization of this parallel -- Torah is like water for the neshoma. We can't live without it. (The Ramban touches on this, but it is spelled out beautifully in the Abarbanel at the end of Beshalach.)
When Moshe in our parsha asks Hashem to reveal himself, Hashem responds that Moshe can only view what little he can see from within "nikras HA'tzur," a cleft in THE rock, with a "hey ha'yediya." THE rock means the famous rock, the same rock that Moshe hit back in Parshas Beshalach! You want Hashem to reveal himself? Then you have to bury yourself in the concept that ruchniyus is as essential as water for your survival, the concept THE rock revealed. If Torah is your life, then you will experience Hashem revealing himself to the fullest.
Monday, February 18, 2019
purim katan
The Mishna (Meg 6) writes that if the megillah was read in Adar Rishon, it must be re-read in Adar Sheni or you are not yotzei. The Mishna continues that the only difference between Adar I and Adar II is with respect to megillah reading and matanos la'evyonim.
The gemara is medayek from the Mishna that with respect to hesped and ta'anis the two Adars are equivalent -- just like on Purim of Adar II one cannot fast or give a hesped, so too one cannot fast or give a hesped on the same date in Adar I.
This is the source for what we call Purim Katan. It's not a day of full celebration, but it's not an ordinary weekday either.
The Rosh, however, learns a completely different pshat in the Mishna. The Mishna is not two separate statements, but rather is one halacha: in a case where megillah was read in Adar Rishon, and then **afterwards** beis din declares a leap year, the only difference between the two Adars will be that the megillah must be re-read and matanos la'evyonim given again in Adar II. However, if beis din declared it a leap year sometime before 14 Adar I and everyone knew not to read megillah in Adar I, there would be no issur hesped or taanis on 14 Adar I either -- the month, writes the Rosh, would be no different than Shevat.
B'pashtus the machlokes Rishonim here boils down to how to understand the concept of adding an extra month to the year. According to the Rambam and RIF, a leap year means there are 2 Adars, and therefore there should in theory be 2 Purims. In practice, the gemara darshens from pesukim that the megillah need only be read in Adar II. According to the Rosh, even in a leap year there is only one Adar and only one Purim. The month we add could just as well be called Shevat II, or "Extra Month." It is Adar in name only, but carries none of the character or significance of the true Adar, Adar II.
How do we celebrate Purim Katan? Ran writes that the issur hesped and taanis is a symptom of an underlying chiyuv of simcha; therefore one should have some sort of festive meal. Tosfos disagrees. S.A. paskens like Tos; the Rama quotes the Ran's view.
Chasam Sofer has an amazing chiddush that Purim Katan may be even more significant that the real Purim. The gemara darshens a kal v'chomer: if we say hallal on Pesach when we were freed from bondage, then certainly we should say hallel when our lives have been spared such as occurred on Purim. (Kri'as ha'megillah is a kiyum of hallel.) A kal v'chomer is one of the 13 midos the Torah is darshened by, and anything learned through the 13 midos has the status of a din d'oraysa. Therefore, says Chasam Sofer, exactly what to do to commemorate the nes -- reading megillah, seudah, etc. -- may be derabbanan, but the obligation to do so in some way is d'oraysa.
Based on this logic, since since Adar I has the status of Adar (according to most Rishonim, not like the Rosh), the celebration of Purim Katan, marking the nes of Purim, is a chiyuv d'oraysa. Zerizim makdimim -- why wait for Adar II when you have the chance to mark the miracle already in Adar I! Chazal tell us for various reasons to defer reading megillah and matanos la'evyoniom until Adar II, but when we fulfill those mitzvos derabbanan should not impact out obligation to fulfill the mitzvah d'oraysa of remembering the nes in Adar I.
The gemara is medayek from the Mishna that with respect to hesped and ta'anis the two Adars are equivalent -- just like on Purim of Adar II one cannot fast or give a hesped, so too one cannot fast or give a hesped on the same date in Adar I.
This is the source for what we call Purim Katan. It's not a day of full celebration, but it's not an ordinary weekday either.
The Rosh, however, learns a completely different pshat in the Mishna. The Mishna is not two separate statements, but rather is one halacha: in a case where megillah was read in Adar Rishon, and then **afterwards** beis din declares a leap year, the only difference between the two Adars will be that the megillah must be re-read and matanos la'evyonim given again in Adar II. However, if beis din declared it a leap year sometime before 14 Adar I and everyone knew not to read megillah in Adar I, there would be no issur hesped or taanis on 14 Adar I either -- the month, writes the Rosh, would be no different than Shevat.
B'pashtus the machlokes Rishonim here boils down to how to understand the concept of adding an extra month to the year. According to the Rambam and RIF, a leap year means there are 2 Adars, and therefore there should in theory be 2 Purims. In practice, the gemara darshens from pesukim that the megillah need only be read in Adar II. According to the Rosh, even in a leap year there is only one Adar and only one Purim. The month we add could just as well be called Shevat II, or "Extra Month." It is Adar in name only, but carries none of the character or significance of the true Adar, Adar II.
How do we celebrate Purim Katan? Ran writes that the issur hesped and taanis is a symptom of an underlying chiyuv of simcha; therefore one should have some sort of festive meal. Tosfos disagrees. S.A. paskens like Tos; the Rama quotes the Ran's view.
Chasam Sofer has an amazing chiddush that Purim Katan may be even more significant that the real Purim. The gemara darshens a kal v'chomer: if we say hallal on Pesach when we were freed from bondage, then certainly we should say hallel when our lives have been spared such as occurred on Purim. (Kri'as ha'megillah is a kiyum of hallel.) A kal v'chomer is one of the 13 midos the Torah is darshened by, and anything learned through the 13 midos has the status of a din d'oraysa. Therefore, says Chasam Sofer, exactly what to do to commemorate the nes -- reading megillah, seudah, etc. -- may be derabbanan, but the obligation to do so in some way is d'oraysa.
Based on this logic, since since Adar I has the status of Adar (according to most Rishonim, not like the Rosh), the celebration of Purim Katan, marking the nes of Purim, is a chiyuv d'oraysa. Zerizim makdimim -- why wait for Adar II when you have the chance to mark the miracle already in Adar I! Chazal tell us for various reasons to defer reading megillah and matanos la'evyoniom until Adar II, but when we fulfill those mitzvos derabbanan should not impact out obligation to fulfill the mitzvah d'oraysa of remembering the nes in Adar I.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
perpetual chinuch
1. The Maharal in Gur Aryeh (Parshas Matos) explains the difference between the nevuah of Moshe "b'ispaklarya ha'mei'ira" which he communicated using the words "zeh ha'davar" and the nevuah of other prophets, "b'ispakkarya she'eina mei'ira," which they communicated using the words "koh amar Hashem" is that Moshe spoke of ideals and principles -- Torah and mitzvos are a description of what should be, not what is -- and ideals and principles are eternal; the other prophets spoke of G-d in the here and now of the world, the interaction of the divine with temporal, physical reality.
Our parsha opens the description of the process and korbanos of the miluim, the one week during which the kohanim were inaugurated, with the words "v'zeh ha'davar asher ta'aseh lahem l'kadesh osam..." (29:1) Shem m'Shmuel asks: if "zeh" signifies the eternal, the unchanging ideal, why does the Torah use this term here in describing the milium which lasted a mere one week?
"Chanoch la'na'ar al pi darko gam ki yazkin lo yasur mi'menu" does not mean that if you train a child at 5 to blow his nose using a tissue, then at 75 he will still have manners and do the same. We should aspire to more than merely holding on to what we learned at age 5. What the pasuk is telling us is that if you do chinuch properly at age 5, then when the same person is older "lo yasur mimenu" -- from chinuch! Learning will be a lifelong process. There will be perpetual freshness and renewal; the person will never cease growing.
The week of the miluim was the chanukas ha'kohanim and the prelude to the chanukas ha'mishkan. "Zeh ha'davar asher ta'aseh" -- it was not just a one week inauguration ceremony, but it was an inauguration of a lifetime of constant chinuch and chanukah. The "minchas chavitim," the korban the kohen gadol offered every day was the same as that offered by a regular kohen on the day he began avodah. For the kohen gadol every day was a fresh start, a new inauguration, and new opportunity to grow.
2. "...V'lakachta mi'damo [of the slaughtered ram] v'nasata al t'nuch ozen Aharon v'al tnuch ozen banav ha'yimanis v'al bohan YADAM ha'yimanis v'al bohen RAGLAM ha'yimanis." (29:20)
Meforshim (see Meshech Chochma, Netziv) note that in describing the placing of the blood of the ram on the ear, the pasuk refers to Aharon individually and then his sons individually. When it comes to placing the ram's blood on the thumb and toe, the pasuk refers to Aharon and his sons as one unit, one group. Why the difference?
The ear represents understanding. Shema Yisrael means to understand, not just to hear. The thumbs / hands represent putting one's ideas into practice. The toes / feet represent practice becoming second nature, regel = hergel.
When it comes to action, there is no difference between Aharon and his sons. We all have to do the same mitzvos. But when it comes to understanding, to the ear, there is a difference between the kohen gadol, between Aharon, and those under him. Everyone has their own "ear" for the music, the shirah of Torah, each according to his own level.
3. I was thinking of writing about the machlokes Rambam/Ra'avad re: the relationship between the choshen and u'rum v'tumim, but earlier in the week when I asked my son if he had any thoughts on the topic he answered that he already had a whole post written on it. Oh well -- saves me writing time. If you want lomdus, read it here.
Our parsha opens the description of the process and korbanos of the miluim, the one week during which the kohanim were inaugurated, with the words "v'zeh ha'davar asher ta'aseh lahem l'kadesh osam..." (29:1) Shem m'Shmuel asks: if "zeh" signifies the eternal, the unchanging ideal, why does the Torah use this term here in describing the milium which lasted a mere one week?
"Chanoch la'na'ar al pi darko gam ki yazkin lo yasur mi'menu" does not mean that if you train a child at 5 to blow his nose using a tissue, then at 75 he will still have manners and do the same. We should aspire to more than merely holding on to what we learned at age 5. What the pasuk is telling us is that if you do chinuch properly at age 5, then when the same person is older "lo yasur mimenu" -- from chinuch! Learning will be a lifelong process. There will be perpetual freshness and renewal; the person will never cease growing.
The week of the miluim was the chanukas ha'kohanim and the prelude to the chanukas ha'mishkan. "Zeh ha'davar asher ta'aseh" -- it was not just a one week inauguration ceremony, but it was an inauguration of a lifetime of constant chinuch and chanukah. The "minchas chavitim," the korban the kohen gadol offered every day was the same as that offered by a regular kohen on the day he began avodah. For the kohen gadol every day was a fresh start, a new inauguration, and new opportunity to grow.
2. "...V'lakachta mi'damo [of the slaughtered ram] v'nasata al t'nuch ozen Aharon v'al tnuch ozen banav ha'yimanis v'al bohan YADAM ha'yimanis v'al bohen RAGLAM ha'yimanis." (29:20)
Meforshim (see Meshech Chochma, Netziv) note that in describing the placing of the blood of the ram on the ear, the pasuk refers to Aharon individually and then his sons individually. When it comes to placing the ram's blood on the thumb and toe, the pasuk refers to Aharon and his sons as one unit, one group. Why the difference?
The ear represents understanding. Shema Yisrael means to understand, not just to hear. The thumbs / hands represent putting one's ideas into practice. The toes / feet represent practice becoming second nature, regel = hergel.
When it comes to action, there is no difference between Aharon and his sons. We all have to do the same mitzvos. But when it comes to understanding, to the ear, there is a difference between the kohen gadol, between Aharon, and those under him. Everyone has their own "ear" for the music, the shirah of Torah, each according to his own level.
3. I was thinking of writing about the machlokes Rambam/Ra'avad re: the relationship between the choshen and u'rum v'tumim, but earlier in the week when I asked my son if he had any thoughts on the topic he answered that he already had a whole post written on it. Oh well -- saves me writing time. If you want lomdus, read it here.
Monday, February 11, 2019
a mitzvah to believe in angels?
1) R' Bachyei says something extraordinary on last week's parsha. He writes that the keruvim are there to remind us of the existence of angels, "because just as we are commanded to believe in G-d, which is the primary ikar of the ikkarim... so too we are commanded to believe in angels and this is the second ikar." (25:18)
Since when does belief in angels rank up there with the ikkarei emunah?
But that's what he says, so take it up with R' Bachyei.
2) Why does the Torah include the command to put the lechem ha'panim on the shulchan (25:30) in the instructions of how to build a shulchan? The Torah does not stick the command to light the menorah in the middle of the instructions of how to build a menorah, or stick the command to offer korbanos in the description of what the mizbeiyach looked like. Why is the shulchan different?
My son did a post quoting sources to prove that putting lechem ha'panim on the shulchan is not just an independent mitzvah, but it part of how the mitzvah of building a shulchan. A shulchan without lechem is not a shulchan.
(In a similar vein, the Da'as Zekeinim asks why in the list of items donated to the Mishkan recorded at the beginning of the parsha -- zahav, kesef, nechoshes, etc. -- the Torah singles out only three of those items and tells us what they were used for: shemen la'ma'or, besamim l'shem ha'mishcha u'l'ketores ha'samim. He answers that when you construct a new house you want it to smell nice, you want it to be light and bright, you want everything to have a new house look. The menorah, ketores, shem ha'mishcha are not being mentioned here in their role as as independent mitzvos, but rather they are being mentioned in their role as part of the mitzvah of binyan ha'mishkan.)
I saw R' Nevenzahl has a different suggestion. The lechem ha'panim was usually placed (and the old lechem removed) on Shabbos. The chanukas ha'mishkan took place on a Sunday. Therefore, one might have thought that the shulchan should remain empty all week until the next Shabbos, kah mashma lan our pasuk that from day #1, from its inauguration, the shulchan should have lechem on it.
Since when does belief in angels rank up there with the ikkarei emunah?
But that's what he says, so take it up with R' Bachyei.
2) Why does the Torah include the command to put the lechem ha'panim on the shulchan (25:30) in the instructions of how to build a shulchan? The Torah does not stick the command to light the menorah in the middle of the instructions of how to build a menorah, or stick the command to offer korbanos in the description of what the mizbeiyach looked like. Why is the shulchan different?
My son did a post quoting sources to prove that putting lechem ha'panim on the shulchan is not just an independent mitzvah, but it part of how the mitzvah of building a shulchan. A shulchan without lechem is not a shulchan.
(In a similar vein, the Da'as Zekeinim asks why in the list of items donated to the Mishkan recorded at the beginning of the parsha -- zahav, kesef, nechoshes, etc. -- the Torah singles out only three of those items and tells us what they were used for: shemen la'ma'or, besamim l'shem ha'mishcha u'l'ketores ha'samim. He answers that when you construct a new house you want it to smell nice, you want it to be light and bright, you want everything to have a new house look. The menorah, ketores, shem ha'mishcha are not being mentioned here in their role as as independent mitzvos, but rather they are being mentioned in their role as part of the mitzvah of binyan ha'mishkan.)
I saw R' Nevenzahl has a different suggestion. The lechem ha'panim was usually placed (and the old lechem removed) on Shabbos. The chanukas ha'mishkan took place on a Sunday. Therefore, one might have thought that the shulchan should remain empty all week until the next Shabbos, kah mashma lan our pasuk that from day #1, from its inauguration, the shulchan should have lechem on it.
Thursday, February 07, 2019
bri'ach ha'tichon of chessed.
1) The Rambam writes in Hil Beis HaBechira (1:12):
והכל חייבין לבנות ולסעד בעצמן ובממונם אנשים ונשים כמקדש המדבר.
"Everyone has to participate in the mitzvah of building a mikdash, both men and women, just like all participated in building the Mishkan in the desert."
Why does the Rambam add that last phrase? Why can't he just say that men and women must participate -- why add the comparison to the Mishkan?
Thoughts?
2) According to Chazal the "bri'ach ha'tichon," the central beam that went through the middle of all the boards of the Mishkan, miraculously curved itself around the entire structure. Where did this special beam come from? Targum Yonasan (26:28) writes that it came from the tree planted by Avraham, "Va'yita eisehel b'Be'eir Sheva," to provide shade and a place to rest for his guests. When Klal Yisrael left Egypt the angels came and cut down that tree, threw it into Yam Suf, and from there it was retrieved by Bnei Yisrael.
Why did the angels bring davka that tree? Was there no closer place to get wood from? R' Yaakov Kaminetzki has a wonderful insight regarding the "atzei shitim," which Chazal tell us were planted by Yaakov Avinu (see my son's post here). The gemara (Yoma 72) writes that the word "omdim" used to describe these boards means they are eternal. R' Yaakov points out that the word "omdim" is part of the tzivuy, the command of how to build the Mishkan. It's not a bracha -- it's something we have to make happen. So where do you get wood that will last for an eternity? The answer is you get wood that Avraham used for hachnasas orchim; you get wood that Yaakov invested his kochos in to prepare for the future and give his children bitachon that they would one day get out of galus and have a Mishkan. That's wood saturated with kedusha that will therefore be with us forever.
The world stands on three things: Torah, avodah, and chessed. Which of these values would you most associate with the Mishkan? The obvious choice is avodah = offering korbanos. The slightly less obvious choice is Torah. Ramban writes that the revelation of Shechina in the Mishkan parallels the revelation of Shechina at Har Sinai. The aron containing the luchos was the focal point of the Mishkan. Yet we see from the Targum Yonasan that the ingredient of chessed must be there as well. Only the wood that served as a vehicle for Avraham's welcoming of guests could serve to connect and hold that walls together.
My wife added that the Mishkan is a microcosm of the world. "Olam chessed yibaneh" - the world is built on chessed. The Mishkan follows suit.
The keruvin that stood atop the aron stood "pneihem ish el achiv" -- facing each other. R' Shternbruch suggests that the Torah is telling us that the key to being able to enter the kodesh kodashim, to be able to come close to the aron, to Torah, is to always look toward your fellow Jew -- to be aware of the needs and plight of your fellow man. Chessed is at the heart of the Mishkan.
What is true of the "house" of Hashem should be equally true of our own homes. Hashra'as haShechina requires avodah, requires Torah, but without chessed, it will all fall apart.
והכל חייבין לבנות ולסעד בעצמן ובממונם אנשים ונשים כמקדש המדבר.
"Everyone has to participate in the mitzvah of building a mikdash, both men and women, just like all participated in building the Mishkan in the desert."
Why does the Rambam add that last phrase? Why can't he just say that men and women must participate -- why add the comparison to the Mishkan?
Thoughts?
2) According to Chazal the "bri'ach ha'tichon," the central beam that went through the middle of all the boards of the Mishkan, miraculously curved itself around the entire structure. Where did this special beam come from? Targum Yonasan (26:28) writes that it came from the tree planted by Avraham, "Va'yita eisehel b'Be'eir Sheva," to provide shade and a place to rest for his guests. When Klal Yisrael left Egypt the angels came and cut down that tree, threw it into Yam Suf, and from there it was retrieved by Bnei Yisrael.
Why did the angels bring davka that tree? Was there no closer place to get wood from? R' Yaakov Kaminetzki has a wonderful insight regarding the "atzei shitim," which Chazal tell us were planted by Yaakov Avinu (see my son's post here). The gemara (Yoma 72) writes that the word "omdim" used to describe these boards means they are eternal. R' Yaakov points out that the word "omdim" is part of the tzivuy, the command of how to build the Mishkan. It's not a bracha -- it's something we have to make happen. So where do you get wood that will last for an eternity? The answer is you get wood that Avraham used for hachnasas orchim; you get wood that Yaakov invested his kochos in to prepare for the future and give his children bitachon that they would one day get out of galus and have a Mishkan. That's wood saturated with kedusha that will therefore be with us forever.
The world stands on three things: Torah, avodah, and chessed. Which of these values would you most associate with the Mishkan? The obvious choice is avodah = offering korbanos. The slightly less obvious choice is Torah. Ramban writes that the revelation of Shechina in the Mishkan parallels the revelation of Shechina at Har Sinai. The aron containing the luchos was the focal point of the Mishkan. Yet we see from the Targum Yonasan that the ingredient of chessed must be there as well. Only the wood that served as a vehicle for Avraham's welcoming of guests could serve to connect and hold that walls together.
My wife added that the Mishkan is a microcosm of the world. "Olam chessed yibaneh" - the world is built on chessed. The Mishkan follows suit.
The keruvin that stood atop the aron stood "pneihem ish el achiv" -- facing each other. R' Shternbruch suggests that the Torah is telling us that the key to being able to enter the kodesh kodashim, to be able to come close to the aron, to Torah, is to always look toward your fellow Jew -- to be aware of the needs and plight of your fellow man. Chessed is at the heart of the Mishkan.
What is true of the "house" of Hashem should be equally true of our own homes. Hashra'as haShechina requires avodah, requires Torah, but without chessed, it will all fall apart.
Monday, February 04, 2019
story time
In Sivan Rahav-Meir's parsha shiur last week she noted how until Parshas Mishpatim, the Torah is a book of stories -- narrative, not law. Parshas Mishpatim changes all that. She then related how her little daughter learned the parsha in school. The teacher discussed with the class what would happen if one child borrowed a sweater from another child: what are the responsibilities of the borrower, what should be done if something happens to the sweater, etc. Sivan Rahav-Meir commented that she thought this showed the genius of the gannenet. Instead of teaching laws -- not very appealing to 5 year olds -- the teacher turned Mishpatim into more stories. The parsha of shomrim thus became the story of a borrowed sweater.
Sivan then remarked that this works great for little kids, but we adults don't approach the parsha in the same way. For us, there is that great shift from stories to halacha.
On this point, I beg to differ. We never outgrow stories, and Chazal know it! There is no Mishna, for example, that talks about "mammon ha'mutal b'safeik" in the abstract, the way a law book might present it, the way a lamdan discusses the theoretical foundation. Instead we have a story: two people are holding a talis, each one says the talis is mine, etc. Maybe our brains are naturally wired to absorb stories; maybe there is some other explanation as to why Chazal present it in this way. What do you think?
Sivan then remarked that this works great for little kids, but we adults don't approach the parsha in the same way. For us, there is that great shift from stories to halacha.
On this point, I beg to differ. We never outgrow stories, and Chazal know it! There is no Mishna, for example, that talks about "mammon ha'mutal b'safeik" in the abstract, the way a law book might present it, the way a lamdan discusses the theoretical foundation. Instead we have a story: two people are holding a talis, each one says the talis is mine, etc. Maybe our brains are naturally wired to absorb stories; maybe there is some other explanation as to why Chazal present it in this way. What do you think?
Thursday, January 31, 2019
"eved ivri" and not "eved yisrael"
This limud should be l'zecher nishmas my father whose yahrzeit is this Shabbos.
Meforshim are bothered by the term "eved ivri." Why not "eved yisrael?" Putting aside the fact that the term "Ivri" is ambiguous (is an "Ivri" someone who comes from a place, "Eiver ha'Nahar," or is it a people, or something else? -- see Ibn Ezra), the fact is throughout chumash we are referred to as Bnei Yisrael. Therefore, if we are referring to a member of Klal Yisrael who became a slave, shouldn't it be "eved yisrael?"
If you remember the parshiyos from earlier this year (or cheat and use a concordance) I think the answer will be clear. The term "Ivri" comes up again and again in the beginning of Shmos. A few examples: the "miyaldos ha'Ivriyos: (1:15) save Jewish babies, including Moshe, who bas Pharoah refers to as being "m'yaldei ha'Ivrim." (2:6) Later, Moshe goes out and sees an Egyptian hitting an "ish Ivri" as well as two "Ivrim" who are fighting. Hashem tells Moshe to tell Pharaoh that the G-d of the "Ivrim" has appeared to him (3:18). At this point in history there is no Jewish nation. There is a large family, a tribe of related members. It is only later, post-exodus, after kabbalas haTorah, that we become a nation. Once that happens, the term "Ivri" vanishes. The only occurrence of the term "Ivri" after the exodus is in reference to the Jewish slave. We are now Bnei Yisrael, Am Yisrael, not Ivrim.
Perhaps the Torah deliberately uses the term "Ivri" with respect to the slave to indicate that the slave has forfeited his identity as a "citizen" in the nation of Am Yisrael. He still retains his relationship to us as a people, he still retains his identity as a member of the family/tribe of bnei Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, the organizational unity of "Ivrim" that pre-dates our nationhood, but he has forfeited his rights and privileges beyond that.
In Parshas Shmos, when Moshe and Aharon first appear before Pharoah, they tell him (5:1) that "Hashem Elokei Yisrael" has demanded the release of his people to celebrate a "chag." Pharoah responds that he does not recognize the deity they are talking about and therefore won't agree to terms. Moshe and Aharon then repeat the same request (5:3) using slightly different language, telling Pharoah that "Elokei ha'Ivrim" demands the release of his people to offer sacrifices to him. This time Pharoah throws them out. Why did Moshe and Aharon think repeating the request a second time would make a difference? And why was Pharoah's response so much harsher this second time?
Netziv explains that when Pharoah heard the term "Elokei Yisrael" he assumed Moshe and Aharon were speaking about letting the spiritual elite of the people go out for a celebration, a chag. Yisrael is the name Yaakov is given only after he manages to overcome Eisav's angel -- it is a mark of accomplishment. Pharoah at least hears this request, but is not willing to give in. Moshe and Aharon realized the misunderstanding and immediately clarified. It was "Elokei ha'Ivrim," that spoke to them -- G-d of the entire tribe/family, the G-d of the "Ivrim," the downtrodden slaves, not just G-d of the elite. Everyone needs to be let free to worship. This Pharoah is not even willing to hear.
It's not "eved yisrael" -- the term "yisrael," as Pharoah understood, is one of chashivus. Rather, it's "eved ivri" -- a slave has no status. A slave has forfeited his membership in society, in the nation.
The torah of Ishbitz (see Ne'os Deshe, Beis Yaakov), k'darko, explains that the aim of the Torah here is not to put the slave in his place and stress that he has become an outcast. Aderaba, the real lesson here is not about slavery, but rather about redemption. "Ba'shevi'i yei'tzei chofshi" -- the lesson is that even this downtrodden lowly slave can achieve freedom and be rehabilitated . No outcast is beyond hope; no one is a lost cause, a permanent slave to kinah, tayvah, kavod, or whatever the addiction.
This explains why our parsha seems to start in the middle of the story. How did this individual become a slave? Ikar chaseir min ha'sefer! Rashi helps us out and explains that we are dealing with a thief who was unable to pay for his crime and therefore was sold as a slave, but all that is missing from the text. Why does the parsha not start from the beginning of the story, with hilchos gezel and then explain how and why someone becomes a slave?
The answer is that the main idea of our parsha is not the sin of theft or its consequences that lead to slavery. The main idea of our parsha is the possibility of redemption after the crime. The seventh year is not just a cessation of work, a shev v'al ta'aseh, so to speak, but rather is a kum aseh, as transformative and rehabilitative experience that changes the gavra of the slave, restoring him to shleimus.
This opening serves as the maftei'ach to the entire parsha of mishpatim. Why should I be held responsible for damaging another person, for damaging his property, for not respecting his rights? It starts with the recognition that any and every individual -- no matter who he is, no matter his station in society, no matter how downtrodden he may be -- has inherent value; there are no outcasts that are beyond being worthy of care. The most worthless member of society is just waiting for "ba'shevi'i yei'tzei chofshi."
When I was in high school there used to be a faculty member who would like to ask how many times the aseres ha'dibros appeared in chumash. The trick was to know that Ramban writes that our parsha of Mishpatim is a recapitulation of the aseres ha'dibros, so the dibros in effect appear 3 times and not 2. Ramban writes that the parsha of the eved ivri parallels the first commandment of "Anochi" which says that G-d took us out of Egypt. The freedom granted to the eved ivri parallels our freedom from Mitzrayim. Ramban then goes a step further and says our parsha of eved also contains elements of the dibrah of Shabbos because the slave goes free after six years of work just like Shabbos comes after six days of work. If our thesis re: the rehabilitation of the eved is correct, then the same thought can be extended to Shabbos. Shabbos is not just a day of cessation of work, but is a transformative, rehabilitative, redemptive experience that restores our sheleimus, our self-worth, our commitment to membership in Am Yisrael the nation, not just the tribal notion of "Ivri."
Let's experience Shabbos that way.
Meforshim are bothered by the term "eved ivri." Why not "eved yisrael?" Putting aside the fact that the term "Ivri" is ambiguous (is an "Ivri" someone who comes from a place, "Eiver ha'Nahar," or is it a people, or something else? -- see Ibn Ezra), the fact is throughout chumash we are referred to as Bnei Yisrael. Therefore, if we are referring to a member of Klal Yisrael who became a slave, shouldn't it be "eved yisrael?"
If you remember the parshiyos from earlier this year (or cheat and use a concordance) I think the answer will be clear. The term "Ivri" comes up again and again in the beginning of Shmos. A few examples: the "miyaldos ha'Ivriyos: (1:15) save Jewish babies, including Moshe, who bas Pharoah refers to as being "m'yaldei ha'Ivrim." (2:6) Later, Moshe goes out and sees an Egyptian hitting an "ish Ivri" as well as two "Ivrim" who are fighting. Hashem tells Moshe to tell Pharaoh that the G-d of the "Ivrim" has appeared to him (3:18). At this point in history there is no Jewish nation. There is a large family, a tribe of related members. It is only later, post-exodus, after kabbalas haTorah, that we become a nation. Once that happens, the term "Ivri" vanishes. The only occurrence of the term "Ivri" after the exodus is in reference to the Jewish slave. We are now Bnei Yisrael, Am Yisrael, not Ivrim.
Perhaps the Torah deliberately uses the term "Ivri" with respect to the slave to indicate that the slave has forfeited his identity as a "citizen" in the nation of Am Yisrael. He still retains his relationship to us as a people, he still retains his identity as a member of the family/tribe of bnei Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, the organizational unity of "Ivrim" that pre-dates our nationhood, but he has forfeited his rights and privileges beyond that.
In Parshas Shmos, when Moshe and Aharon first appear before Pharoah, they tell him (5:1) that "Hashem Elokei Yisrael" has demanded the release of his people to celebrate a "chag." Pharoah responds that he does not recognize the deity they are talking about and therefore won't agree to terms. Moshe and Aharon then repeat the same request (5:3) using slightly different language, telling Pharoah that "Elokei ha'Ivrim" demands the release of his people to offer sacrifices to him. This time Pharoah throws them out. Why did Moshe and Aharon think repeating the request a second time would make a difference? And why was Pharoah's response so much harsher this second time?
Netziv explains that when Pharoah heard the term "Elokei Yisrael" he assumed Moshe and Aharon were speaking about letting the spiritual elite of the people go out for a celebration, a chag. Yisrael is the name Yaakov is given only after he manages to overcome Eisav's angel -- it is a mark of accomplishment. Pharoah at least hears this request, but is not willing to give in. Moshe and Aharon realized the misunderstanding and immediately clarified. It was "Elokei ha'Ivrim," that spoke to them -- G-d of the entire tribe/family, the G-d of the "Ivrim," the downtrodden slaves, not just G-d of the elite. Everyone needs to be let free to worship. This Pharoah is not even willing to hear.
It's not "eved yisrael" -- the term "yisrael," as Pharoah understood, is one of chashivus. Rather, it's "eved ivri" -- a slave has no status. A slave has forfeited his membership in society, in the nation.
The torah of Ishbitz (see Ne'os Deshe, Beis Yaakov), k'darko, explains that the aim of the Torah here is not to put the slave in his place and stress that he has become an outcast. Aderaba, the real lesson here is not about slavery, but rather about redemption. "Ba'shevi'i yei'tzei chofshi" -- the lesson is that even this downtrodden lowly slave can achieve freedom and be rehabilitated . No outcast is beyond hope; no one is a lost cause, a permanent slave to kinah, tayvah, kavod, or whatever the addiction.
This explains why our parsha seems to start in the middle of the story. How did this individual become a slave? Ikar chaseir min ha'sefer! Rashi helps us out and explains that we are dealing with a thief who was unable to pay for his crime and therefore was sold as a slave, but all that is missing from the text. Why does the parsha not start from the beginning of the story, with hilchos gezel and then explain how and why someone becomes a slave?
The answer is that the main idea of our parsha is not the sin of theft or its consequences that lead to slavery. The main idea of our parsha is the possibility of redemption after the crime. The seventh year is not just a cessation of work, a shev v'al ta'aseh, so to speak, but rather is a kum aseh, as transformative and rehabilitative experience that changes the gavra of the slave, restoring him to shleimus.
This opening serves as the maftei'ach to the entire parsha of mishpatim. Why should I be held responsible for damaging another person, for damaging his property, for not respecting his rights? It starts with the recognition that any and every individual -- no matter who he is, no matter his station in society, no matter how downtrodden he may be -- has inherent value; there are no outcasts that are beyond being worthy of care. The most worthless member of society is just waiting for "ba'shevi'i yei'tzei chofshi."
When I was in high school there used to be a faculty member who would like to ask how many times the aseres ha'dibros appeared in chumash. The trick was to know that Ramban writes that our parsha of Mishpatim is a recapitulation of the aseres ha'dibros, so the dibros in effect appear 3 times and not 2. Ramban writes that the parsha of the eved ivri parallels the first commandment of "Anochi" which says that G-d took us out of Egypt. The freedom granted to the eved ivri parallels our freedom from Mitzrayim. Ramban then goes a step further and says our parsha of eved also contains elements of the dibrah of Shabbos because the slave goes free after six years of work just like Shabbos comes after six days of work. If our thesis re: the rehabilitation of the eved is correct, then the same thought can be extended to Shabbos. Shabbos is not just a day of cessation of work, but is a transformative, rehabilitative, redemptive experience that restores our sheleimus, our self-worth, our commitment to membership in Am Yisrael the nation, not just the tribal notion of "Ivri."
Let's experience Shabbos that way.
Thursday, January 17, 2019
Va'ya'aminu BaHashem u'b'Moshe avdo -- emunah after the fact?
"Va'ya'aminu BaHashem u'b'Moshe avdo..."
That's emunah?! To believe after you see a sea split in two and watch your enemies drown?
Who would not believe under those circumstances?
What does the pasuk mean?
(See Alshich, Ohr haChaim, Kedushas Levi, Maor vaShemesh... but I still don't understand it.)
That's emunah?! To believe after you see a sea split in two and watch your enemies drown?
Who would not believe under those circumstances?
What does the pasuk mean?
(See Alshich, Ohr haChaim, Kedushas Levi, Maor vaShemesh... but I still don't understand it.)
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
hands down
Chazal tell us that the attack of Amalek happened because "rafu Y'DEIHEM min haTorah," because Klal Yisrael neglected their Torah learning. Why the stress on "y'deihem?" The Maharasham in Techeiles Mordechai quotes the Chazal that "Torah mateshes kocho shel adam." That doesn't necessarily mean that a person who learns Torah is physically weak. The Torah warns us that a person should not think his success comes from "kochi v'otzem YADI," his own strength and ability. It's this koach -- the belief in the power of "kochi v'otzem YADI" -- which Torah weakens. Learning Torah humbles a person; the more one learns the more one recognizes the vastness and depths of the dvar Hashem and just how limited our own ability and insight is. Because Klal Yisrael's dedication to learning fell a notch, "min haTorah," because of that loss, "rafu y'deihem," their perspective on the limits of the "kochi v'otzem YADI" was tainted.
The Mahrasham does not say it, but I think based on his approach we can understand why Klal Yisrael had to fight Amalek as opposed to being miraculously rescued as had happened at Yam Suf. Since they invested trust in their kochi v'otzem yadi, Hashem responded in kind and let them use their own power to carry on the battle.
Moshe's challenge was to shift their perspective. "V'haya ka'asher yarim YADO..." Moshe lifted up his hands and directed people's gaze to shamayim. There is no power in "otzem yadi" -- our hands only have power when we connect to Hashem.
"Va'yehi YADAV emunah ad bo ha'shemesh" Ibn Ezra interprets emunah here either has steadfast or like the word "omain" (e,g. "Va'yehi omein es Hadasah"), to train, to nurture. Our hands need to be trained to connect to Hashem.
"YAD al keis K-h" -- the war with Amalek is won when we connect "otzem yadi," our ability, to the kisei of Hashem, the true source of power.
The Mahrasham does not say it, but I think based on his approach we can understand why Klal Yisrael had to fight Amalek as opposed to being miraculously rescued as had happened at Yam Suf. Since they invested trust in their kochi v'otzem yadi, Hashem responded in kind and let them use their own power to carry on the battle.
Moshe's challenge was to shift their perspective. "V'haya ka'asher yarim YADO..." Moshe lifted up his hands and directed people's gaze to shamayim. There is no power in "otzem yadi" -- our hands only have power when we connect to Hashem.
"Va'yehi YADAV emunah ad bo ha'shemesh" Ibn Ezra interprets emunah here either has steadfast or like the word "omain" (e,g. "Va'yehi omein es Hadasah"), to train, to nurture. Our hands need to be trained to connect to Hashem.
"YAD al keis K-h" -- the war with Amalek is won when we connect "otzem yadi," our ability, to the kisei of Hashem, the true source of power.
Sunday, January 06, 2019
hakaras ha'tov and yetzi'as Mitzrayim
We know that Moshe did not strike the Nile to turn it to blood because the river had protected him as a baby when his mother sent him floating downstream in his little basket. We know that Moshe did not strike the ground because it was in the ground that he had hidden the body of the Egyptian that he killed. This was Moshe's expression of hakaras ha'tov even to the inanimate objects that had done good for him.
Why is hakaras ha'tov so intertwined with the story of yetzi'as Mitzrayim? See my wife's post here.
And since I am mentioning blog posts by family members, see my son's posts here.
Why is hakaras ha'tov so intertwined with the story of yetzi'as Mitzrayim? See my wife's post here.
And since I am mentioning blog posts by family members, see my son's posts here.
Thursday, January 03, 2019
win them over with kindness
Three short ideas:
1) On Jan 1 we had the privilege in the 5Towns of hearing a shiur from R' Baruch Simon. One idea he quoted from R' Zecharya Gelly (of Breur's) b'shem R' Yonasan Eibshitz: Chazal tell us that the Egyptians did not enslave sheivet Levi. Why should they have done such a thing? It certainly was not out of the goodness of their hearts -- people with good hearts don't go around drowning babies and enslaving the rest of the population.
The Egyptians knew that that the go'el would come from the special sheivet of Levi that kept the mesorah of Yaakov Avinu alive. They figured that if they don't oppress sheivet Levi, the sheivet will never feel the real pain of galus and shibud and therefore will never really be motivated to produce that go'el who will rescue the rest of Klal Yisrael from their plight.
What they did not count on was the tremendous empathy that Moshe Rabeinu had for his brothers. What they did not count on was someone like Moshe who felt the pain of each Jew as it if was his own, to the point that Moshe would even argue with Hashem himself, "Lamah ha'reiosa la'am ha'zeh..." Even if he was not personally subject to the shibud, Moshe suffered because he was nosei b'ol im chaveiro.
2) The Midrash (in P' Naso) writes that for every action Avraham took when he welcomed guests into his home, Hashem rewarded his children in kind. In the zechus of "yukach na me'at mayim," the little bit of water Avraham offered his guests we were zocheh to "v'lakachti eschem li l'am" in our parsha.
Is this just a play on words -- just because the word "yukach" is used to describe what Avaraham did, we get rewarded with "v'lakachti...?" What is the underlying connection between the action and reward?
R' Shimon Sofer explains that they key is the one word Avraham used when he offered water that he did not use when he offered food, a seat under his tree, or anything else. The magic word is PLEASE -- "yukach NA..."
What was this water used for? Rashi tells us that Avraham suspected his guests of being idolaters and worshipping the dust on their feet, and therefore he requested that they wash their feet before entering his home.
What Avraham Avinu is teaching us is that if you want people to wash away their avodah zarah, their materialism, their anti-Torah lifestyle, you need to say "Please." You need to do it with kindness, with love, with chessed.
So too, Hashem did not simply coerce us and demand that we follow him. Rashi translates "kach es Aharon" in Parshas Tzav (VaYikra 8) as "kacheihu b'devarim u'mashcheihu" -- persuade him, draw him in. ("Lakach" when speaking of objects means to take, but you don't pick up a person and take him/her like you pick up a chair. See also Rashi on "VaYikach Korach.") "V'lakachti eschem li l'am": The overt miracles, the record of the yichus of the shevatim to remind us that we are free, proud people, the declaration "bni bechori Yisrael" -- Hashem showered us with love and kindness to make us feel special.
The kindness Avraham showed those guests that attracted them to Torah became the kindness and love Hashem showed to us to draw us out of Mitzrayim to avodas Hashem.
3) V'lo sham'u el Moshe m'kotzer ruach u'mei'avodah kasha... The majority of meforshim explain that it was Klal Yisrael who suffered "kotzer ruach" because of the burden of work. However, Sivan Rahav Meir points out an amazing Ralbag who writes that it was Moshe, not Klal Yisrael, who the pasuk is referring to. Moshe had kotzer ruach because he had not invested enough time into thinking about how to present his message to the people.
Ralbag explains that Moshe was coming from a background of spending hours searching for G-d, being misbonen and misboded. The way he understood things, the way he thought about G-d and communicated about G-d, was on a completely different level than that of Klal Yisrael. And so he struggled to get the point across and translate it down to the level the people were on.
Moshe's struggle here is our struggle. How do we as parents (or Rabbis, teachers, etc.) make ourselves understood, make our message clear and meaningful, to our friends, our families, to our children, who may not be holding where we are and may not see the world the same way we do? Es chatai ani mazkir -- I plead guilty to making this error myself and watching my kids eyes glaze over as I say over what seems to me to be a perfectly beautiful shtikel Torah but which they don't relate to at all. It's not that the shkitel Torah is bad -- it's my kotzer ruach in not figuring out how to present it properly to their ears on their level.
Something important to keep in mind.
1) On Jan 1 we had the privilege in the 5Towns of hearing a shiur from R' Baruch Simon. One idea he quoted from R' Zecharya Gelly (of Breur's) b'shem R' Yonasan Eibshitz: Chazal tell us that the Egyptians did not enslave sheivet Levi. Why should they have done such a thing? It certainly was not out of the goodness of their hearts -- people with good hearts don't go around drowning babies and enslaving the rest of the population.
The Egyptians knew that that the go'el would come from the special sheivet of Levi that kept the mesorah of Yaakov Avinu alive. They figured that if they don't oppress sheivet Levi, the sheivet will never feel the real pain of galus and shibud and therefore will never really be motivated to produce that go'el who will rescue the rest of Klal Yisrael from their plight.
What they did not count on was the tremendous empathy that Moshe Rabeinu had for his brothers. What they did not count on was someone like Moshe who felt the pain of each Jew as it if was his own, to the point that Moshe would even argue with Hashem himself, "Lamah ha'reiosa la'am ha'zeh..." Even if he was not personally subject to the shibud, Moshe suffered because he was nosei b'ol im chaveiro.
2) The Midrash (in P' Naso) writes that for every action Avraham took when he welcomed guests into his home, Hashem rewarded his children in kind. In the zechus of "yukach na me'at mayim," the little bit of water Avraham offered his guests we were zocheh to "v'lakachti eschem li l'am" in our parsha.
Is this just a play on words -- just because the word "yukach" is used to describe what Avaraham did, we get rewarded with "v'lakachti...?" What is the underlying connection between the action and reward?
R' Shimon Sofer explains that they key is the one word Avraham used when he offered water that he did not use when he offered food, a seat under his tree, or anything else. The magic word is PLEASE -- "yukach NA..."
What was this water used for? Rashi tells us that Avraham suspected his guests of being idolaters and worshipping the dust on their feet, and therefore he requested that they wash their feet before entering his home.
What Avraham Avinu is teaching us is that if you want people to wash away their avodah zarah, their materialism, their anti-Torah lifestyle, you need to say "Please." You need to do it with kindness, with love, with chessed.
So too, Hashem did not simply coerce us and demand that we follow him. Rashi translates "kach es Aharon" in Parshas Tzav (VaYikra 8) as "kacheihu b'devarim u'mashcheihu" -- persuade him, draw him in. ("Lakach" when speaking of objects means to take, but you don't pick up a person and take him/her like you pick up a chair. See also Rashi on "VaYikach Korach.") "V'lakachti eschem li l'am": The overt miracles, the record of the yichus of the shevatim to remind us that we are free, proud people, the declaration "bni bechori Yisrael" -- Hashem showered us with love and kindness to make us feel special.
The kindness Avraham showed those guests that attracted them to Torah became the kindness and love Hashem showed to us to draw us out of Mitzrayim to avodas Hashem.
3) V'lo sham'u el Moshe m'kotzer ruach u'mei'avodah kasha... The majority of meforshim explain that it was Klal Yisrael who suffered "kotzer ruach" because of the burden of work. However, Sivan Rahav Meir points out an amazing Ralbag who writes that it was Moshe, not Klal Yisrael, who the pasuk is referring to. Moshe had kotzer ruach because he had not invested enough time into thinking about how to present his message to the people.
Ralbag explains that Moshe was coming from a background of spending hours searching for G-d, being misbonen and misboded. The way he understood things, the way he thought about G-d and communicated about G-d, was on a completely different level than that of Klal Yisrael. And so he struggled to get the point across and translate it down to the level the people were on.
Moshe's struggle here is our struggle. How do we as parents (or Rabbis, teachers, etc.) make ourselves understood, make our message clear and meaningful, to our friends, our families, to our children, who may not be holding where we are and may not see the world the same way we do? Es chatai ani mazkir -- I plead guilty to making this error myself and watching my kids eyes glaze over as I say over what seems to me to be a perfectly beautiful shtikel Torah but which they don't relate to at all. It's not that the shkitel Torah is bad -- it's my kotzer ruach in not figuring out how to present it properly to their ears on their level.
Something important to keep in mind.
Thursday, December 27, 2018
RYBS on "ish Mitzri... ish Ivri"
Va'yar ish Mitzri make is Ivri... vayach es haMitzri
R' Soloveitchik (quoted by R' Shachter) explained derech derush that Egyptian society projected itself as being an enlightened, liberal society. This attracted a good number of Klal Yisrael, who cast off the old fashioned religion of their fathers in favor of this ethos of civility and tolerance that the culture around them represented. What changed Moshe was seeing an "ish" Mitzri, a cultured individual, someone representative of the tolerant, liberal society around him, striking an "ish" Ivri, a Jew who also was an "ish," someone who had assimilated and adopted those same liberal cultural values. Moshe lashed out at the Mitzri -- here the Torah does not say "ish" Mitzri because the mask was off. Moshe saw this man for what he was -- a barbarian dressed in the trappings of enlightenment much like a wolf wearing sheep's clothing.
R' Soloveitchik (quoted by R' Shachter) explained derech derush that Egyptian society projected itself as being an enlightened, liberal society. This attracted a good number of Klal Yisrael, who cast off the old fashioned religion of their fathers in favor of this ethos of civility and tolerance that the culture around them represented. What changed Moshe was seeing an "ish" Mitzri, a cultured individual, someone representative of the tolerant, liberal society around him, striking an "ish" Ivri, a Jew who also was an "ish," someone who had assimilated and adopted those same liberal cultural values. Moshe lashed out at the Mitzri -- here the Torah does not say "ish" Mitzri because the mask was off. Moshe saw this man for what he was -- a barbarian dressed in the trappings of enlightenment much like a wolf wearing sheep's clothing.
Moshe, Yirmiyahu, Gidon, and Spider Man
When Pharoah's daughter discovered a basket floating down the river, the Torah tells us, "VaTiftach va'tireyhu es ha'yeled," she opened the basket and saw a child, "V'hinei na'ar bocheh," and there was a lad/young man who was crying. Rashi is troubled by the change in the description of who she saw/heard -- baby Moshe is described as a yeled, meaning a baby, and then as a na'ar, which is usually refers to an older child. (Yosef as a teenager is described as a na'ar.) Rashi explains the discrepancy by saying that baby Moshe, the yeled, had the voice of a na'ar, a more mature child. Ramban takes issue with this interpretation, as it would be abnormal for a baby to have such a voice. Ramban writes that it was not the tone of voice which the Torah is describing as being that of a na'ar, but rather it is the intensity of the crying. Seforno writes that the cry was a purposeful cry, not the random crying of an infant. Kli Yakar takes it a step further and suggests that Moshe was crying over the plight of Klal Yisrael, not a baby's crying for it's own needs.
Obviously Kli Yakar is projecting onto baby Moshe some of what made mature Moshe into "Moshe Rabeinu" our leader, similar to the way Rashi explains that when Yocheved saw that her baby was "tov" it meant the house was filled with a special light, not just that this was a good baby. I would contrast this stream of parshanut that sees Moshe's greatness as inherent from birth with interpretations like that of Maharal and Oznayim laTorah who write that Moshe's parents are described simple as a nameless "ish m'beis Levi" who married a "bas Levi" because these could be any man/any woman -- there was nothing inherently special about Moshe's family or background. Greatness is achieved and earned and is therefore accessible to all, not bestowed or granted on a predetermined recipient. L'havdil eleph havdalos and then some, one of the reasons Spider Man is such a great movie (I refer to the 2002 version, not the garbage that came later) is because we get to watch Peter Parker, an ordinary teenager, grow into a superhero. Modern readers/viewers like to watch our heroes develop, not appear fully formed, inherently gifted, from the get-go. I don't know if readers in earlier ages shared that same preference. In Tanach we find both models, e.g. Yirmiyahu is told by G-d that from conception he was chosen as a prophet, yet, we have heroes like the shofeit Gidon who seems far from the first , ideal choice to be a leader yet nonetheless he got the job. It would be interesting to do a fuller study of the idea of a leader in Tanach and see which of these two models -- greatness inherent from birth vs greatness acquired over time or through struggle -- predominates.
Getting back to our story (we are getting to the good part), Chizkuni and others offer a different solution to the textual problem Rashi raised. They suggest that yeled and na'ar refer to two different people: Moshe is the yeled who bas Pharoah sees in the basket; the na'ar who is crying is Aharon, who is distressed over his brother's plight. R' Josh Hoffman a"h (netvort 5767) suggests a beautiful reading of the latter part of the pasuk in light of this Chizkuni. "Va'tomer mi'yaldei ha'ivrim zeh" -- bas Pharoah recognized this as a Jewish child not because of seeing baby Moshe, but because she heard this na'ar bocheh, because she heard Aharon's crying! Who else but a Jewish child would shed tears not because of his own needs, not because of his own suffering, but simply because he empathizes with the plight of a fellow Jewish baby. Nosei b'ol im chaveiro is the hallmark of Klal Yisrael.
Obviously Kli Yakar is projecting onto baby Moshe some of what made mature Moshe into "Moshe Rabeinu" our leader, similar to the way Rashi explains that when Yocheved saw that her baby was "tov" it meant the house was filled with a special light, not just that this was a good baby. I would contrast this stream of parshanut that sees Moshe's greatness as inherent from birth with interpretations like that of Maharal and Oznayim laTorah who write that Moshe's parents are described simple as a nameless "ish m'beis Levi" who married a "bas Levi" because these could be any man/any woman -- there was nothing inherently special about Moshe's family or background. Greatness is achieved and earned and is therefore accessible to all, not bestowed or granted on a predetermined recipient. L'havdil eleph havdalos and then some, one of the reasons Spider Man is such a great movie (I refer to the 2002 version, not the garbage that came later) is because we get to watch Peter Parker, an ordinary teenager, grow into a superhero. Modern readers/viewers like to watch our heroes develop, not appear fully formed, inherently gifted, from the get-go. I don't know if readers in earlier ages shared that same preference. In Tanach we find both models, e.g. Yirmiyahu is told by G-d that from conception he was chosen as a prophet, yet, we have heroes like the shofeit Gidon who seems far from the first , ideal choice to be a leader yet nonetheless he got the job. It would be interesting to do a fuller study of the idea of a leader in Tanach and see which of these two models -- greatness inherent from birth vs greatness acquired over time or through struggle -- predominates.
Getting back to our story (we are getting to the good part), Chizkuni and others offer a different solution to the textual problem Rashi raised. They suggest that yeled and na'ar refer to two different people: Moshe is the yeled who bas Pharoah sees in the basket; the na'ar who is crying is Aharon, who is distressed over his brother's plight. R' Josh Hoffman a"h (netvort 5767) suggests a beautiful reading of the latter part of the pasuk in light of this Chizkuni. "Va'tomer mi'yaldei ha'ivrim zeh" -- bas Pharoah recognized this as a Jewish child not because of seeing baby Moshe, but because she heard this na'ar bocheh, because she heard Aharon's crying! Who else but a Jewish child would shed tears not because of his own needs, not because of his own suffering, but simply because he empathizes with the plight of a fellow Jewish baby. Nosei b'ol im chaveiro is the hallmark of Klal Yisrael.
Tuesday, December 25, 2018
great Chasam Sofer on shibud Mitzrayim
Last post I mentioned Rashi's explanation that Parshas VaYechi is a parsha stuma to indicate that the hearts of Bnei Yisrael became closed, as Yaakov's coming down to Egypt and his death there marked the start of the shibud. Everyone asks: Chazal tell us that it was not until "vayamas Yosef v'kol echav v'kol ha'dor ha'hu," as we read in our parsha, the death of Yosef and the shevatim, that the shibud in Mitzrayim started. It didn't start with the arrival in Egypt.
One can answer very simply that there are different degrees of shibud. To some degree, just being in Mitzrayim was shibud of galus. The shibud of enslavement, however, did not start until later.
Chasam Sofer (first piece in VaYechi) says a derush answer that speaks to our times. In Parshas Bechukosai the Torah concludes the opening section of brachos by telling us, "Ani Hashem Elokeichem asher hotzeisi eschem mei'Eretz Mitzrayim mi'hiyos lahem avadim, ve'eshbor motos ulchem v'oleich eschem komimiyus." (26:13) Hashem took us out of Egypt to free us, so he promises to break the burdensome yoke on our back. Asks the Chasam Sofer: shouldn't this be the first bracha in that parsha -- not the last? Shouldn't breaking the yoke we toil under be the first step in liberating us, before promising us the brachos of prosperity, peace, "v'nasati mishkani b'sochichem," etc?
Chasam Sofer answers that there are two types of burdens we toil under. There is the burden of persecution in whatever form it takes, whether it be more overt, e.g. pogroms, whether it be less overt, e.g. BDS. But then there is another burden that is more subtle. A frum Jew goes out today to go shopping and the stores are filled with decorations, holiday music, the tree is decked out so nicely. We're talking about a frum Jew, so he knows this is not for him -- he's not going to bring a tree in his house and hang up a stocking by the fireplace. But in his heart, maybe he feels a little like he is missing out. As the Rambam writes in Shmoneh Perakim, a Jew doesn't need to say that bacon doesn't taste good -- it may taste very good, just we can't have it. He knows he has to take out a second mortgage to pay yeshiva tuition, and there is no question he will do so -- but that doesn't mean he doesn't think of the nice car he could have if he didn't have that expense. He is going to buy glatt food, but that doesn't mean he doesn't see the price of Purdue in the supermarket ad. He does whatever he is supposed to, he is committed -- but boy, is frumkeit a burden to carry.
The Torah in Bechukosai is telling us that Hashem will give us all the brachos we need to do mitzvos easily -- we will have the money to spend on tuition, food so plentiful that glatt will be the same price as Purdue, etc. Why? Because Hashem wants us to treat Torah and mitzvos like something we love to and want to do, not like a burden. Torah is not meant to be a yoke to slave and toil under -- that's the burden the Torah promises to remove. You don't feel like a slave to something if you love doing it, and Hashem wants us to love doing Torah.
Coming back to Rashi, it was not until the death of Yosef and his brothers that the physical enslavement of Klal Yisrael started. But there was a shibud, a burden, that set in even before that. While Yaakov Avinu was still alive, Klal Yisrael lived Torah with joy and enthusiasm. When Yaakov Avinu passed on, Torah and mitzvos took on a different tone. Egyptian society with all its temptations beckoned, and even if a Jew kept true to his beliefs, observance itself, even absent any persecution, became a toil, a burden, a shibud.
One can answer very simply that there are different degrees of shibud. To some degree, just being in Mitzrayim was shibud of galus. The shibud of enslavement, however, did not start until later.
Chasam Sofer (first piece in VaYechi) says a derush answer that speaks to our times. In Parshas Bechukosai the Torah concludes the opening section of brachos by telling us, "Ani Hashem Elokeichem asher hotzeisi eschem mei'Eretz Mitzrayim mi'hiyos lahem avadim, ve'eshbor motos ulchem v'oleich eschem komimiyus." (26:13) Hashem took us out of Egypt to free us, so he promises to break the burdensome yoke on our back. Asks the Chasam Sofer: shouldn't this be the first bracha in that parsha -- not the last? Shouldn't breaking the yoke we toil under be the first step in liberating us, before promising us the brachos of prosperity, peace, "v'nasati mishkani b'sochichem," etc?
Chasam Sofer answers that there are two types of burdens we toil under. There is the burden of persecution in whatever form it takes, whether it be more overt, e.g. pogroms, whether it be less overt, e.g. BDS. But then there is another burden that is more subtle. A frum Jew goes out today to go shopping and the stores are filled with decorations, holiday music, the tree is decked out so nicely. We're talking about a frum Jew, so he knows this is not for him -- he's not going to bring a tree in his house and hang up a stocking by the fireplace. But in his heart, maybe he feels a little like he is missing out. As the Rambam writes in Shmoneh Perakim, a Jew doesn't need to say that bacon doesn't taste good -- it may taste very good, just we can't have it. He knows he has to take out a second mortgage to pay yeshiva tuition, and there is no question he will do so -- but that doesn't mean he doesn't think of the nice car he could have if he didn't have that expense. He is going to buy glatt food, but that doesn't mean he doesn't see the price of Purdue in the supermarket ad. He does whatever he is supposed to, he is committed -- but boy, is frumkeit a burden to carry.
The Torah in Bechukosai is telling us that Hashem will give us all the brachos we need to do mitzvos easily -- we will have the money to spend on tuition, food so plentiful that glatt will be the same price as Purdue, etc. Why? Because Hashem wants us to treat Torah and mitzvos like something we love to and want to do, not like a burden. Torah is not meant to be a yoke to slave and toil under -- that's the burden the Torah promises to remove. You don't feel like a slave to something if you love doing it, and Hashem wants us to love doing Torah.
Coming back to Rashi, it was not until the death of Yosef and his brothers that the physical enslavement of Klal Yisrael started. But there was a shibud, a burden, that set in even before that. While Yaakov Avinu was still alive, Klal Yisrael lived Torah with joy and enthusiasm. When Yaakov Avinu passed on, Torah and mitzvos took on a different tone. Egyptian society with all its temptations beckoned, and even if a Jew kept true to his beliefs, observance itself, even absent any persecution, became a toil, a burden, a shibud.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
parsha stuma
Parshas Va'Yechi is a parsha stuma, a closed parsha, meaning there is no space break between the end of last week's parsha and the beginning of this week's parsha. Rashi explains (there are many parshiyot stumot in the Torah -- see Mizrachi as to why Rashi comments on it here) that the Torah is hinting to us that the hearts of Bnei Yisrael became closed, as the descent of Yaakov and his sons to Egypt marked the beginning of exile. As we've discussed before, it's not that the Torah is reflecting the reality of Bnei Yisrael's now experiencing exile -- aderaba, the Torah is what creates reality. The exile began and the hearts of Bnei Yisrael closed because the parsha of Torah here is sealed and closed.
Rashi at the beginning of Vayikra tells us that the parsha breaks gave Moshe Rabeinu an opportunity for "revach l'hisbonein bein parsha l'parsha," a chance to pause and contemplate and reflect on what he had just been taught. Galus is a parsha stuma with no break; galus does not give us any opportunity to pause and reflect. (See Meslias Yesharim on midas ha'zehirus.)
The Maharasham, Rav Shalom Schwadron, in his Techeiles Mordechai, quotes the kabbalistc teaching that every Jew corresponds to a letter in Torah. Yisrae"l is an acronym = Yesh Shishim Ribo Osiyos La'torah. (See Pnei Yehoshua Kid 30 and this post.) What about those Jews who are unaffiliated, disinterested, and who have no connection? What is their letter? Maharasham explains that their cheilek is the blank spaces. (The gemara in Shabbos writes that even the blank spaces of klaf in a sefer Torah have kedusha.)
We are in galus so that we can learn to reconnect with Hashem. The parsha of galus is a parsha stuma because the goal is to bring us ultimately to the ideal state where we are all connected, where each one of us is a letter -- no blank spaces.
The Midrash offers another explanation of the stimas ha'parsha that is almost the opposite of the one quoted by Rashi. According to the Midrash the closed parsha teaches us that the tzaros that had plagued Yaakov for so many years were now closed off and he and the shevatim were able to live in tranquility. These final years were the good years which Yaakov had pined for for so long.
Shem m'Shmuel quotes Ramban (in his hakdamah) that the entire Torah is the name of Hashem. Chazal darshen the requirement to say birchas haTorah from the pasuk "Ki shem Hashem ekra..." When you read pesukim of Torah, you are reading Hashem's name. We can't absorb a giluy of Elokus in such a direct, intense way, so the name is broken up into a code of words, pesukim, parshiyos that have a different, superficial meaning that we can digest.
The gemara writes according to one view that the last 8 pesukim of the Torah describing his own death were written by Moshe "b'dema." Some interpret that to mean he wrote it in tears. Shem m'Shmuel suggests (I believe the GR"A says this as well) that the word "dema" here is from the same root as dmai -- a mixture. When Torah was taught to Moshe it was given in chunks -- pesukim, parshiyos, etc. -- with breaks in between to digest and contemplate. Even Moshe could not absorb a straight giluy of shem Hashem and he had to have it coded into parshiyos and pesukim. However, in the moments before his death Moshe reached a level where he was able to absorb Torah revealed as shem Hashem. He received those last 8 pesukim as a jumble of letters with no breaks in between -- an unbroken stream of revelation. This was Torah as shem Hashem.
Here too, our parsha is stuma with no breaks. Yaakov's final years were on a pinnacle of ruchniyus where he could absorb Torah with no breaks needed to reflect -- he absorbed everything as an unbroken stream of direct revelation, Torah as shem Hashem in its most intense and direct form.
Rashi at the beginning of Vayikra tells us that the parsha breaks gave Moshe Rabeinu an opportunity for "revach l'hisbonein bein parsha l'parsha," a chance to pause and contemplate and reflect on what he had just been taught. Galus is a parsha stuma with no break; galus does not give us any opportunity to pause and reflect. (See Meslias Yesharim on midas ha'zehirus.)
The Maharasham, Rav Shalom Schwadron, in his Techeiles Mordechai, quotes the kabbalistc teaching that every Jew corresponds to a letter in Torah. Yisrae"l is an acronym = Yesh Shishim Ribo Osiyos La'torah. (See Pnei Yehoshua Kid 30 and this post.) What about those Jews who are unaffiliated, disinterested, and who have no connection? What is their letter? Maharasham explains that their cheilek is the blank spaces. (The gemara in Shabbos writes that even the blank spaces of klaf in a sefer Torah have kedusha.)
We are in galus so that we can learn to reconnect with Hashem. The parsha of galus is a parsha stuma because the goal is to bring us ultimately to the ideal state where we are all connected, where each one of us is a letter -- no blank spaces.
The Midrash offers another explanation of the stimas ha'parsha that is almost the opposite of the one quoted by Rashi. According to the Midrash the closed parsha teaches us that the tzaros that had plagued Yaakov for so many years were now closed off and he and the shevatim were able to live in tranquility. These final years were the good years which Yaakov had pined for for so long.
Shem m'Shmuel quotes Ramban (in his hakdamah) that the entire Torah is the name of Hashem. Chazal darshen the requirement to say birchas haTorah from the pasuk "Ki shem Hashem ekra..." When you read pesukim of Torah, you are reading Hashem's name. We can't absorb a giluy of Elokus in such a direct, intense way, so the name is broken up into a code of words, pesukim, parshiyos that have a different, superficial meaning that we can digest.
The gemara writes according to one view that the last 8 pesukim of the Torah describing his own death were written by Moshe "b'dema." Some interpret that to mean he wrote it in tears. Shem m'Shmuel suggests (I believe the GR"A says this as well) that the word "dema" here is from the same root as dmai -- a mixture. When Torah was taught to Moshe it was given in chunks -- pesukim, parshiyos, etc. -- with breaks in between to digest and contemplate. Even Moshe could not absorb a straight giluy of shem Hashem and he had to have it coded into parshiyos and pesukim. However, in the moments before his death Moshe reached a level where he was able to absorb Torah revealed as shem Hashem. He received those last 8 pesukim as a jumble of letters with no breaks in between -- an unbroken stream of revelation. This was Torah as shem Hashem.
Here too, our parsha is stuma with no breaks. Yaakov's final years were on a pinnacle of ruchniyus where he could absorb Torah with no breaks needed to reflect -- he absorbed everything as an unbroken stream of direct revelation, Torah as shem Hashem in its most intense and direct form.
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
a fish out of water
1) A few weeks/months ago, around the time of the Yamim Noraim, Sivan Rahav Meir visited the NY area and spoke in a few shuls and schools. In the talk I heard she quoted (if I remember correctly) a vort of the Sefas Emes on our parsha. Yaakov blessed Ephraim and Menashe, "V'yidgu la'rov b'kerev ha'aretz." Rashi explains that "v'yidgu" means that they should multiply like fish=dag, which are immune from ayin ha'ra.
Sefas Emes asks: the bracha is a stirah minei u'bei, a self-contradiction. How can Ephraim and Menashe be given a blessing to be like fish "b'kerev ha'aretz," in the midst of the land? Fish live in the sea, not on land?
Sefas Emes answers that the lesson Yaakov wanted Ephraim and Menashe to absorb -- the lesson for us to absorb -- is that of course we want to be successful and thrive in and contribute to and have a positive impact on whatever land, whatever society, we find ourselves in -- b'kerev ha'aretz. However, we should never lose sight of the fact that however successful we are in that environment, we are still like a fish out of water. Galus is not our home. Galus is not where we belong.
2) Yaakov wants to tell his children "eis asher yikra eschem b'acharis ha'yamim," what will happen to them at the end of time. The word the pasuk uses is not yikrah with a hey at the end, but rather yikra with an aleph at the end. Jewish destiny is not mikreh, with a hey, just happenstance. Rather, it is the inevitable conclusion to our history which calls to us, yikra with an aleph, from across time and across generations.
Sefas Emes asks: the bracha is a stirah minei u'bei, a self-contradiction. How can Ephraim and Menashe be given a blessing to be like fish "b'kerev ha'aretz," in the midst of the land? Fish live in the sea, not on land?
Sefas Emes answers that the lesson Yaakov wanted Ephraim and Menashe to absorb -- the lesson for us to absorb -- is that of course we want to be successful and thrive in and contribute to and have a positive impact on whatever land, whatever society, we find ourselves in -- b'kerev ha'aretz. However, we should never lose sight of the fact that however successful we are in that environment, we are still like a fish out of water. Galus is not our home. Galus is not where we belong.
2) Yaakov wants to tell his children "eis asher yikra eschem b'acharis ha'yamim," what will happen to them at the end of time. The word the pasuk uses is not yikrah with a hey at the end, but rather yikra with an aleph at the end. Jewish destiny is not mikreh, with a hey, just happenstance. Rather, it is the inevitable conclusion to our history which calls to us, yikra with an aleph, from across time and across generations.
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
the tikun for 10 Teves
From the "halacha yomi" from Yeshiva Har Bracha (my translated paraphrase ):
There fast of 10 Teves commemorates three things. Firstly and primarily, it commemorates the siege placed on Yerushalayim that eventually led to the destruction of the city and the Mikdash. Secondly, in our slichos we mention the passing of Ezra, which occured on 9 Teves. Lastly, we remember the forced translation of the Torah into Greek on 8 Teves.
R' Tzvi Yehudah Kook suggested that in response to these three events, we use the day to work on a three-pronged "tikun": 1) In response to the tragedy of the siege, we dedicate ourselves to building Yerushalayim and Eretz Yisrael, both physically and spiritually; 2) In response to the tragedy of Ezra's passing we dedicate ourselves to spreading even more Torah, in particular by encouraging even more people to return from the golah to Eretz Yisrael, the source of Torah, just as Ezra tried to do; 3) In response to the Torah being translated into the foreign language of Greece and the foreign culture of Greece we work to restore the authentic culture and spirit of the Jewish people and weed out the foreign influences that have infiltrated during our many years in galus.
There fast of 10 Teves commemorates three things. Firstly and primarily, it commemorates the siege placed on Yerushalayim that eventually led to the destruction of the city and the Mikdash. Secondly, in our slichos we mention the passing of Ezra, which occured on 9 Teves. Lastly, we remember the forced translation of the Torah into Greek on 8 Teves.
R' Tzvi Yehudah Kook suggested that in response to these three events, we use the day to work on a three-pronged "tikun": 1) In response to the tragedy of the siege, we dedicate ourselves to building Yerushalayim and Eretz Yisrael, both physically and spiritually; 2) In response to the tragedy of Ezra's passing we dedicate ourselves to spreading even more Torah, in particular by encouraging even more people to return from the golah to Eretz Yisrael, the source of Torah, just as Ezra tried to do; 3) In response to the Torah being translated into the foreign language of Greece and the foreign culture of Greece we work to restore the authentic culture and spirit of the Jewish people and weed out the foreign influences that have infiltrated during our many years in galus.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
ha'od avi chai?
The first thing Yosef asked his brothers after revealing himself is, "Ha'od avi chai?" Is my father still alive?
Everybody asks: the brothers had told Yosef during their earlier visits that their father was alive and well. Yehudah had just finished pleading with Yosef to release Binyamin because their father would not be able to bear the loss. Obviously Yaakov was still alive. What was Yosef asking?
The Igra d'Kalla explains that Yosef was not asking about Yaakov -- he was asking about himself.
Later in the parsha, when Yaakov finally was reunited with Yosef, the Torah writes that Yosef appeared to his father "va'yipol al tzavarav va'yeivk al tzavarav od," he fell on him and kissed him more (46:31). Rashi explains that it was Yosef who fell on his father's neck and cried; Yaakov at this moment was reciting shema (see Maharal in Gur Aryeh as to why.) Ramban rejects this interpretation. Firstly, it would not be derech eretz for a son to fall on his father's neck to kiss him. Secondly, the word "od" does not fit. He cried "more" -- more than what?
Ramban switches things around. It was Yaakov who fell on Yosef and kissed him. Yosef came to his father dressed as an Egyptian royal, riding a royal chariot. Yaakov was an old man whose vision was poor -- he sees this Egyptian prince approaching, showing him deference, but it makes no impression on him. Maybe he sticks out his hand for a handshake, or some such greeting. Suddenly it hits Yaakov -- this is no Egyptian prince. This is his son! He now greets his son with kisses, with tears, a greeting that is far "more" than what was originally offered.
We see from Ramban that Yosef appeared outwardly as an Egyptian. He blended into the society which he was part of for 22 long years.
This is what concerned Yosef. "Ha'od avi chai?" He asks his brothers: Is the midah of yesod (od = gematriya of yesod) which my father implanted within me still alive? Or has Egyptian society penetrated and changed me?
The gemara (Pesachim 68) says that Rav Yosef would make a special celebration for Shavuos because if not for that day he would just be like any other Joe, any other Yosef in the marketplace.
There are a lot of Yosefs wandering around in the streets. Whether by choice or willy-nilly, we have to engage with the outside world and in doing so blend in, at least somewhat.
The question we have to ask ourselves now and then is "Ha'od avi chai?" Is the spirit of forefathers still alive in us? Or have we gone too far in absorbing the culture of that outside world?
The brothers could not answer Yosef because "nivhalu mi'panav," literally meaning they were taken aback by his face. They saw underneath the Egyptian dress, underneath the royal robes, the same innocent face of their 17 year old brother of long ago who they had sold into slavery and they were astounded. So many years apart and yet indeed, the same spark of their father was alive within him.
Coming back to the Ramban's second question, the Igra d'Kalla doesn't say it, but I think maybe this is what the pasuk means when it tells us "va'yeivk al tzavarav od." Yaakov too sense that the midah of yesod, the "od" that he had implanted in Yosef, was alive and well. And so he cried -- not tears of sadness, as he had cried for 22 years, but tears of joy and happiness.
Everybody asks: the brothers had told Yosef during their earlier visits that their father was alive and well. Yehudah had just finished pleading with Yosef to release Binyamin because their father would not be able to bear the loss. Obviously Yaakov was still alive. What was Yosef asking?
The Igra d'Kalla explains that Yosef was not asking about Yaakov -- he was asking about himself.
Later in the parsha, when Yaakov finally was reunited with Yosef, the Torah writes that Yosef appeared to his father "va'yipol al tzavarav va'yeivk al tzavarav od," he fell on him and kissed him more (46:31). Rashi explains that it was Yosef who fell on his father's neck and cried; Yaakov at this moment was reciting shema (see Maharal in Gur Aryeh as to why.) Ramban rejects this interpretation. Firstly, it would not be derech eretz for a son to fall on his father's neck to kiss him. Secondly, the word "od" does not fit. He cried "more" -- more than what?
Ramban switches things around. It was Yaakov who fell on Yosef and kissed him. Yosef came to his father dressed as an Egyptian royal, riding a royal chariot. Yaakov was an old man whose vision was poor -- he sees this Egyptian prince approaching, showing him deference, but it makes no impression on him. Maybe he sticks out his hand for a handshake, or some such greeting. Suddenly it hits Yaakov -- this is no Egyptian prince. This is his son! He now greets his son with kisses, with tears, a greeting that is far "more" than what was originally offered.
We see from Ramban that Yosef appeared outwardly as an Egyptian. He blended into the society which he was part of for 22 long years.
This is what concerned Yosef. "Ha'od avi chai?" He asks his brothers: Is the midah of yesod (od = gematriya of yesod) which my father implanted within me still alive? Or has Egyptian society penetrated and changed me?
The gemara (Pesachim 68) says that Rav Yosef would make a special celebration for Shavuos because if not for that day he would just be like any other Joe, any other Yosef in the marketplace.
There are a lot of Yosefs wandering around in the streets. Whether by choice or willy-nilly, we have to engage with the outside world and in doing so blend in, at least somewhat.
The question we have to ask ourselves now and then is "Ha'od avi chai?" Is the spirit of forefathers still alive in us? Or have we gone too far in absorbing the culture of that outside world?
The brothers could not answer Yosef because "nivhalu mi'panav," literally meaning they were taken aback by his face. They saw underneath the Egyptian dress, underneath the royal robes, the same innocent face of their 17 year old brother of long ago who they had sold into slavery and they were astounded. So many years apart and yet indeed, the same spark of their father was alive within him.
Coming back to the Ramban's second question, the Igra d'Kalla doesn't say it, but I think maybe this is what the pasuk means when it tells us "va'yeivk al tzavarav od." Yaakov too sense that the midah of yesod, the "od" that he had implanted in Yosef, was alive and well. And so he cried -- not tears of sadness, as he had cried for 22 years, but tears of joy and happiness.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
watch your words
Chazal tell us that of all the brothers, Yosef most closely resembled Yaakov. How then did the brothers not recognize him during any of their interactions together? Rashi writes in last week's parsha that when Yosef left home he had no beard and now he had a beard. This would mean that Yosef even more closely resembled their father! How then could the brothers miss seeing it?
A person can disguise a lot of things about him/herself, but certain things cannot be changed.
When Yaakov came to "steal" the brachos from Yitzchak, he dressed up in Eisav's clothes, he brought food just like Eisav was supposed to bring, he used animal skins to make himself hairy like Eisav. But then when he spoke to his father, every sentence he said had a "na," a "please" in it and he almost gave the game away. "Ha'kol kol Yaakov," Yitzchak noticed. Such polite language -- it's got to be Yaakov and not Eisav!
Yaakov changed everything else about himself -- why for a few minutes couldn't he leave out the "please?"
How a person speaks, the language and tone they use, is part of who they are. You can dress up and use make up to **disguise** who you are, but you can't **change** who you are. Saying "please" is who Yaakov is.
The halacha says a blind man is permitted to his wife because he recognizes the tone of her voice -- he knows this is his wife and not an imposter and not another woman. There is no halacha that says a husband can assume this is his wife because he recognizes her dress or knows how she styles her hair, etc. How we speak defines us.
L'mashal, I can put on a Yankee uniform, buy an MLB official bat, sit in the dugout at Yankee stadium so that everyone thinks I am part of the team, but trust me, if I had to step up to the plate to bat, that notion would quickly be dispelled. The ability to play the game is part of a player's identity -- not the uniform, not the bat, not where he sits in the dugout. So too, Yaakov could put on the clothes, put on hair, etc., but he could not change his identity to actually be someone else.
When the brothers first come back to Yaakov to report on their meeting with the person they took to be the viceroy of Egypt, the first thing they remark on is "dibeir ha'ish adonei ha'aretz itanu kashos," the man we met spoke harshly with us. This apparently was even more important to mention than the fact that they were accused of being spies. How the viceroy spoke made even more of an impression on them than what he said. The brothers understood that language and tone of speech define a person's identity. Had we been there, our attention might have been captured by what the viceroy was wearing, what the palace looked like, etc. -- all chitzoniyus. The brothers focused on speech, as that reflects pnimiyus.
"Dibeir kashos" -- therefore, there was not even a hava amina that this was Yosef. Members of Klal Yisrael just don't speak that way.
We finally get in our parsha to Yosef's revelation of his identity. "Re'u ki pi ha'medaber aleichem" he tells his brothers. "Look at how I am speaking to you," he tells them. Look at the lashon kodesh that I am using. This is who I am -- no Egyptian can speak this way (see Rashi, Ramban) because it's not part of who they are and they can't fake it. The "dibeir kashos" (not even close to true Eisav-speech) was just a hora'as sha'ah, a necessity, a hechsher mitzvah to bring us back together, but this is the real me.
A person can disguise a lot of things about him/herself, but certain things cannot be changed.
When Yaakov came to "steal" the brachos from Yitzchak, he dressed up in Eisav's clothes, he brought food just like Eisav was supposed to bring, he used animal skins to make himself hairy like Eisav. But then when he spoke to his father, every sentence he said had a "na," a "please" in it and he almost gave the game away. "Ha'kol kol Yaakov," Yitzchak noticed. Such polite language -- it's got to be Yaakov and not Eisav!
Yaakov changed everything else about himself -- why for a few minutes couldn't he leave out the "please?"
How a person speaks, the language and tone they use, is part of who they are. You can dress up and use make up to **disguise** who you are, but you can't **change** who you are. Saying "please" is who Yaakov is.
The halacha says a blind man is permitted to his wife because he recognizes the tone of her voice -- he knows this is his wife and not an imposter and not another woman. There is no halacha that says a husband can assume this is his wife because he recognizes her dress or knows how she styles her hair, etc. How we speak defines us.
L'mashal, I can put on a Yankee uniform, buy an MLB official bat, sit in the dugout at Yankee stadium so that everyone thinks I am part of the team, but trust me, if I had to step up to the plate to bat, that notion would quickly be dispelled. The ability to play the game is part of a player's identity -- not the uniform, not the bat, not where he sits in the dugout. So too, Yaakov could put on the clothes, put on hair, etc., but he could not change his identity to actually be someone else.
When the brothers first come back to Yaakov to report on their meeting with the person they took to be the viceroy of Egypt, the first thing they remark on is "dibeir ha'ish adonei ha'aretz itanu kashos," the man we met spoke harshly with us. This apparently was even more important to mention than the fact that they were accused of being spies. How the viceroy spoke made even more of an impression on them than what he said. The brothers understood that language and tone of speech define a person's identity. Had we been there, our attention might have been captured by what the viceroy was wearing, what the palace looked like, etc. -- all chitzoniyus. The brothers focused on speech, as that reflects pnimiyus.
"Dibeir kashos" -- therefore, there was not even a hava amina that this was Yosef. Members of Klal Yisrael just don't speak that way.
We finally get in our parsha to Yosef's revelation of his identity. "Re'u ki pi ha'medaber aleichem" he tells his brothers. "Look at how I am speaking to you," he tells them. Look at the lashon kodesh that I am using. This is who I am -- no Egyptian can speak this way (see Rashi, Ramban) because it's not part of who they are and they can't fake it. The "dibeir kashos" (not even close to true Eisav-speech) was just a hora'as sha'ah, a necessity, a hechsher mitzvah to bring us back together, but this is the real me.
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