It is very hard to make time to go through these parshiyos properly when there is so much to do for Pesach. Kabbalists say there is some powerful tikun that can be accomplished if you sweat when baking matzah. I don't understand such ideas, but I do understand that you can accomplish a lot of you sweat while cleaning for Pesach.
The Netziv (2:11) has a nice explanation of why you can't bring a korban mincha that is chametz. The Ohr haChaim at the beginning of Parshas Tazria quotes a Tanchuma that records a conversation between R' Akiva and Turnusrufus. Turnusrufus was bothered by why we have a mitzvah of milah -- if G-d made us araleim, then why should we tamper with his creation? R' Akiva responded by asking Turnusrufus whether he thought a stalk of wheat was better than a loaf of bread. It's a rhetorical question -- of course we all prefer to eat the bread. G-d gave us the world to perfect, to improve, to mold. We are supposed to turn the wheat into bread. In the process, we ourselves grow. For our purpose, what's important is the example the Midrash uses of man's work making a difference -- the baking of bread. A whole chunk of meleches Shabbos, the paradigm of what creative work is all about, is devoted to the steps of siddura d'pas, the labor involved in making bread. In a similar vein, the Midrash and Yerushalmi (43a in the Vilna ed, see Ridbaz there) explain the machlokes R' Nachman and Chachamim whether the nusach ha'bracha is "ha'motzi lechem min ha'aretz" or "motzi..." is not just a technical grammatical issue, whether the word "motzi" is past tense or not (as the Bavli explains), but is l'shitasam as to whether the tree Adam haRishon ate from was a loaf of bread. R' Nachman holds that in gan eden bread literally grew on trees -- man didn't need to work to produce it; therefore, you can saw "motzi," past tense, because at the time of creation G-d, not man, made the bread. Chachamim hold that we need to use the future tense because, as the gemara in Kesubos tells us, it is only in the time of future geulah that this bracha of bread growing on trees will be realized. In the here and now, however, in between gan eden and the future geulah, the only way we can get that bread is if we put our own effort = hishtadlus into making it. The Netziv on our pasuk tells us that this requirement of histadlus is inversely proportional to the level of ruchniyus a person is on. The closer a person is to holiness, the less hishtadlus is needed. In gan eden and when geulah happens, when we are really close with G-d, there is no need at all for our baking bread. So too, when you come to the Mikdash, writes the Netziv, that's not the place to bring your bread. "Adam ki yakriv" -- when we bring korbanos, we reach back in history to imitate like Adam haRishon (see Chasam Sofer) in gan eden, when bread grew on trees, and when it didn't need to come from us.
Pesach is such a special time that for a week we put aside our baking bread, our hishtadlus, and we let G-d take care of everything.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Thursday, March 23, 2017
the difference a comma makes
1. Rashi 26:15 writes that the atzei shitim used to make the mishkan came from trees that Ya'akov Avinu had planted in Egypt which Bnei Yisrael took with them when they left. R' Ya'akov Kaminetzki in Emes l'Ya'akov explains that what Ya'akov Avinu planted was not trees for wood -- in the 210 years (which had the potential to be 400 years) until they left Egypt Bnei Yisrael could have managed to find some other wood to take. What Ya'akov Avinu planted was hope. To simply tell Bnei Yisrael that one day there would be a geulah would not have made much of an impression. To take action, to plant in anticipation of the geulah, showed them that it was real. (The lesson for us in that simply talking about the beauty of Torah is not enough. We have to act on that belief and live it.)
Ibn Ezra at the beginning of Terumah challenges Rashi based (among other things) on a pasuk from our parsha. The Torah writes, "...v'chol asher nimtza ito atzei shitim l'chol milechas ha'avodah hei'vi'u." (35:26) The term "nimtza ito" means the wood belonged to those people. It was theirs and they were donating it of their own accord -- it wasn't something that Ya'akov had prepared beforehand just for use in the mishkan.
It sounds like the machlokes Rashi and Ibn Ezra revolves around where to place the comma in the pasuk. Ibn Ezra read it like this: "...v'chol asher nimtza ito atzei shitim," whoever has wood, COMMA, "l'chol milechas ha'avodah hei'vi'u," brought it for the holy work. Rashi, however, may have read it like this: "...v'chol asher nimtza ito atzei shitim l'chol milechas ha'avodah," whoever was entrusted to keep with them wood that was meant to be used [as designated by Ya'akov] for the mishkan, COMMA, "hei'vi'u," they brought it.
2.When there was no longer a need for donations for the Miskhan, the parsha tells us that an announcement went out, "al ya'asu od melacha." When the people heard that, "va'yikaleh ha'am mei'havi," the people stopped bringing donations. Meforshim (see Seforno, Rashbam, Chizkuni) are medayek that the announcement did not say not to bring anything, but rather not to make anything. Ksav Sofer explains this based on the din that hazmanah lav milsa hi, designating an item for some use has no halachic effect unless some action was taken in making the item or in using the item for that purpose (see Sanhedrin 47). It's only if something was made for the sake of the mishkan that it would become assur; therefore, the call went out to stop making things. The people understood on their own that this meant nothing new was needed, and so they stopped bringing as well.
I'm a little confused. True, hazmanah lav milsa, but there is another din of amiraso l'gavoha k'mesiraso l'hedyot, that pledging something for hekdesh use makes it the property of hekdesh. Had something been brought to the mishkan, even if not made for use there, wouldn't it become property of the mishkan by virtue of amiraso l'gavoha? Shouldn't the people have been told to stop bringing things lest the extra become property of the mishkan by virtue of amiraso l'gavoha?
P.S. Apologies for not getting to respond to comments on last week's post.
Ibn Ezra at the beginning of Terumah challenges Rashi based (among other things) on a pasuk from our parsha. The Torah writes, "...v'chol asher nimtza ito atzei shitim l'chol milechas ha'avodah hei'vi'u." (35:26) The term "nimtza ito" means the wood belonged to those people. It was theirs and they were donating it of their own accord -- it wasn't something that Ya'akov had prepared beforehand just for use in the mishkan.
It sounds like the machlokes Rashi and Ibn Ezra revolves around where to place the comma in the pasuk. Ibn Ezra read it like this: "...v'chol asher nimtza ito atzei shitim," whoever has wood, COMMA, "l'chol milechas ha'avodah hei'vi'u," brought it for the holy work. Rashi, however, may have read it like this: "...v'chol asher nimtza ito atzei shitim l'chol milechas ha'avodah," whoever was entrusted to keep with them wood that was meant to be used [as designated by Ya'akov] for the mishkan, COMMA, "hei'vi'u," they brought it.
2.When there was no longer a need for donations for the Miskhan, the parsha tells us that an announcement went out, "al ya'asu od melacha." When the people heard that, "va'yikaleh ha'am mei'havi," the people stopped bringing donations. Meforshim (see Seforno, Rashbam, Chizkuni) are medayek that the announcement did not say not to bring anything, but rather not to make anything. Ksav Sofer explains this based on the din that hazmanah lav milsa hi, designating an item for some use has no halachic effect unless some action was taken in making the item or in using the item for that purpose (see Sanhedrin 47). It's only if something was made for the sake of the mishkan that it would become assur; therefore, the call went out to stop making things. The people understood on their own that this meant nothing new was needed, and so they stopped bringing as well.
I'm a little confused. True, hazmanah lav milsa, but there is another din of amiraso l'gavoha k'mesiraso l'hedyot, that pledging something for hekdesh use makes it the property of hekdesh. Had something been brought to the mishkan, even if not made for use there, wouldn't it become property of the mishkan by virtue of amiraso l'gavoha? Shouldn't the people have been told to stop bringing things lest the extra become property of the mishkan by virtue of amiraso l'gavoha?
P.S. Apologies for not getting to respond to comments on last week's post.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
a sin worse than cheit ha'eigel
The Ohr haChaim (32:1) writes that the Torah only alludes to the murder of Chur by the eigel worshippers, but spells out in great detail all aspects of the cheit ha'eigel itself because the story of cheit ha'eigel is not about the tragedy of sin, but rather is about the possibility of redemption. Chazal (A"Z 4b) tell us that if the community sins they should remember the cheit ha'eigel, as it teaches us the possibility of communal teshuvah. The sin of Chur's murder was never atoned for, and so, rather than leave the blot on the record of Klal Yisrael, the Torah only alludes to it in passing. Klal Yisrael did do teshuvah for the cheit ha'eigel, and therefore the Torah makes it the focal point.
"Ra'isi es ha'am ha'zeh v'hinei am k'sheh oref hu" -- can there be a more damning statement than that? The Ishbitzer (in Beis Ya'akov), however, turns the statement on its head. The navi (Chavakuk 1:13) tells us that G-d is "t'hor einayim mei're'os ra v'hibit el amal lo tochal." G-d cannot bear the sight of evil; he will not look at it. "Ra'isi es ha'am ha'zeh," G-d tells Moshe that he sees Bnei Yisrael -- despite their sin, he still is looking at them. Their essence is still pure. Again, the story the Torah is telling us is one of redemption.
Coming back to Chur (and if someone can explain why he deserved to die, please leave me a comment), the gemara (Sanhedrin 7) explains that it was the sight of his being killed by the mob that led Aharon to make the eigel. "Im yei'hareig b'mikdash Hashem kohen v'navi," the murder of a kohen and navi together (true, Har Sinai is not the mikdash and the avodah had not yet been given over to kohanim -- see Maharasha) together are unforgivable. Aharon thought that with Chur the navi killed, if he protests against the mob and they kill him, it's all over. The eigel was in this case the lesser of two evils.
Why is that so? Why is killing a navi and kohen together a more heinous crime than even idol worship? Maharasha explains that the kohanim are the teachers of Torah and the nevi'im convey the dvar Hashem. They are the bearers of the mesorah. It is one thing to have a mesorah and to do wrong, even to the point of idolatry. It's a far worse thing to completely destroy and eradicate that mesorah.
So the people sin, and Moshe comes to the rescue with his tefilah. "Zechor l'Avraham l'Yitzchak ul'Yisrael... v'kol ha'aretz ha'zos... etein l'zarachem v'nachalu l'olam." Moshe calls on the zechus of the avos, and refers specifically to G-d's promise to grant Eretz Yisrael to them and their children for eternity. Why would that promise carry weight after the people had sinned? The Avos were always worried "shema yigrom ha'cheit" and they would prove undeserving -- wasn't Moshe worried that the cheit ha'eigel may have made the people undeserving? See Seforno, Netziv, and perhaps one could argue that Klal Yisrael as a whole can never be completely undeserving as a nation (see R' Tzadok in Pri Tzadik on the parsha of the bris bein ha'besarim). R' Yonasan Eibshitz says a beautiful yesod to answer his question. He writes that it's only in Eretz Yisrael that we can truly come to be zocheh in Torah. That was the purpose of promising the land to the Avos and their descendants. Moshe was telling G-d that since the Jewish people have not yet come into Eretz Yisrael, since that promise was yet unfulfilled, how then can he blame Klal Yisrael for their wrongdoing? How can he hold them accountable for a breach of Torah when all they have learned is the Torah of galus and have not yet experienced the real thing?
Baruch Hashem, we are on the road to getting back to the real thing and need to take advantage.
"Ra'isi es ha'am ha'zeh v'hinei am k'sheh oref hu" -- can there be a more damning statement than that? The Ishbitzer (in Beis Ya'akov), however, turns the statement on its head. The navi (Chavakuk 1:13) tells us that G-d is "t'hor einayim mei're'os ra v'hibit el amal lo tochal." G-d cannot bear the sight of evil; he will not look at it. "Ra'isi es ha'am ha'zeh," G-d tells Moshe that he sees Bnei Yisrael -- despite their sin, he still is looking at them. Their essence is still pure. Again, the story the Torah is telling us is one of redemption.
Coming back to Chur (and if someone can explain why he deserved to die, please leave me a comment), the gemara (Sanhedrin 7) explains that it was the sight of his being killed by the mob that led Aharon to make the eigel. "Im yei'hareig b'mikdash Hashem kohen v'navi," the murder of a kohen and navi together (true, Har Sinai is not the mikdash and the avodah had not yet been given over to kohanim -- see Maharasha) together are unforgivable. Aharon thought that with Chur the navi killed, if he protests against the mob and they kill him, it's all over. The eigel was in this case the lesser of two evils.
Why is that so? Why is killing a navi and kohen together a more heinous crime than even idol worship? Maharasha explains that the kohanim are the teachers of Torah and the nevi'im convey the dvar Hashem. They are the bearers of the mesorah. It is one thing to have a mesorah and to do wrong, even to the point of idolatry. It's a far worse thing to completely destroy and eradicate that mesorah.
So the people sin, and Moshe comes to the rescue with his tefilah. "Zechor l'Avraham l'Yitzchak ul'Yisrael... v'kol ha'aretz ha'zos... etein l'zarachem v'nachalu l'olam." Moshe calls on the zechus of the avos, and refers specifically to G-d's promise to grant Eretz Yisrael to them and their children for eternity. Why would that promise carry weight after the people had sinned? The Avos were always worried "shema yigrom ha'cheit" and they would prove undeserving -- wasn't Moshe worried that the cheit ha'eigel may have made the people undeserving? See Seforno, Netziv, and perhaps one could argue that Klal Yisrael as a whole can never be completely undeserving as a nation (see R' Tzadok in Pri Tzadik on the parsha of the bris bein ha'besarim). R' Yonasan Eibshitz says a beautiful yesod to answer his question. He writes that it's only in Eretz Yisrael that we can truly come to be zocheh in Torah. That was the purpose of promising the land to the Avos and their descendants. Moshe was telling G-d that since the Jewish people have not yet come into Eretz Yisrael, since that promise was yet unfulfilled, how then can he blame Klal Yisrael for their wrongdoing? How can he hold them accountable for a breach of Torah when all they have learned is the Torah of galus and have not yet experienced the real thing?
Baruch Hashem, we are on the road to getting back to the real thing and need to take advantage.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
why purim is an eis ratzon
Why is Purim an eis ratzon for tefilah?
Some explain that it's based on the din that requires us to give charity to whoever asks for it on Purim, no questions asked. When we approach G-d with our hand outstretched, he has to give also, no questions asked.
Rav Shteinman offered a different reason. Drive around any neighborhood on Purim and you see people giving gifts of mishloach manos to friends and neighbors. You see money being given to poor people. You see yeshiva bochrim collecting for one institution after another. When Jews express such love for each other, says R' Shteinman, when Jews are willing to help one another, it's no wonder that G-d is happy and is willing to listen to us.
Some explain that it's based on the din that requires us to give charity to whoever asks for it on Purim, no questions asked. When we approach G-d with our hand outstretched, he has to give also, no questions asked.
Rav Shteinman offered a different reason. Drive around any neighborhood on Purim and you see people giving gifts of mishloach manos to friends and neighbors. You see money being given to poor people. You see yeshiva bochrim collecting for one institution after another. When Jews express such love for each other, says R' Shteinman, when Jews are willing to help one another, it's no wonder that G-d is happy and is willing to listen to us.
Thursday, March 09, 2017
assorted ideas on zachor and Purim
1. The Shem m'Shmuel (5677) notes that the instructions for war in the haftarah are all expressed in the singular, e.g. G-d tells Shaul, "leich v'hikisa es Amalak...," "va'yomer Shaul el ha'Keini" to leave the area, "va'yach Shaul es Amalek" as the war begins. Shaul is blamed for sparing Agag; Shaul loses the throne. It's all about Shaul, with almost no attention paid to the nation as a whole and their sin in not finishing off Amalek.
"V'atah titzaveh es Bnei Yisrael v'yikchu eilecha shemen zayis zach..." Why, asks Ramban, doesn't our parsha use the the simpler formulation of "tzav es Bnei Yisrael..." that is found so often in the Torah? R' Shimon Sofer (Sha'arei Simcha) reminds us (as we've discussed before) that the menorah represents the light of Torah; the squeezing of the oil is the ameilus of learning. The way to convey the light of Torah to others and encourage them to bring their own light into the world is by living a life of Torah oneself. "Atah titzaveh" -- embody the ideal in yourself, and others will follow.
Had Shaul truly embodied the hatred for Amalek that Hashem expected, then the nation would have risen to the challenge of defeating their enemy (see Sefas Emes 5646 for a little deeper insight.)
2. Rav Amram Gaon (quoted in the Hag. Maimoni at the end of Hil Megilah) holds that one should not recite al ha'nisim in ma'ariv of Purim night because it cannot be said until after one has heard the megillah. Why should al ha'nisim be different than ya'aleh v'yavo, which we recite in ma'ariv as soon as Yom Tov or Rosh Chodesh starts?
My son suggested that while the chiyuv to say ya'aleh v'yavo stems from the kedushas ha'yom of yom tov, the chiyuv to say al ha'nisim stems from a requirement to make a zecher of the nes itself. Therefore, until one has read megillah and reminded onself of what the nes is all about, one has no chiyuv to say al ha'nisim.
(What about on Chanukah? R'av Amram Gaon does not say that you have to wait until after hadlakas neiros to say al ha'nisim? My son suggested that the chiyuv of hadlakas menorah is different than the chiyuv of reading megillah. Lighting is a commemoration of the miracle, but it doesn't tell the story of the miracle. That is unique to megillah.)
3. Every detail of the megillah is necessary to tell the story of the nes, writes the Sefas Emes. Each snapshot of history and dialogue included in the megillah is like a puzzle piece that, when combined with all the other pieces, gives us the full picture.
We read in 2:11 that, "B'chol yom v'yom Mordechai mis'haleich lifnei chatzar beis ha'nashim," that every single day Mordechai would visit the woman's court to check on Esther and see how she was faring. Every day! My mother would love it if I called her every day, but I am remiss in doing so more often than not. It's a nice thing to do. It was nice of Mordechai to check up on Esther every day. However, is this really necessary to know in the grand scheme of the whole story? Ok, so maybe I learn a musar haskel to call my mother more often, but why is this important to the story of the megillah?
The answer comes next chapter: "Vaye'hi k'amram eilev yom va'yom..." Every single day Mordechai had to answer the same question: "Why don't you bow to Haman?" When are you going to give in and do what everybody else does. Every day! This is the important part of the story, the issue that will push Haman into hatching his plot and reveal Mordechai as a tzadik. Explains the Sefas Emes, it's only someone who realizes the value of every single day showing concern for others, someone who each and every day takes the time to care for someone like an orphaned girl all alone trapped in the king's palace, those who have no one else to care for them, it's only that person who can rise to the challenge each and every day of answering Haman and his advisors.
4. The Aruch haShulchan proves that to fulfill having a "mishteh" you have to wash and eat bread from the fact that when Lot made a "mishteh" for his visitors, the pasuk tells us "matzos afah va'yocheilu," he baked matzah/bread for them to eat. I would have thought the opposite was true -- since the pasuk has to go out of its way to tell us that he served bread, mistama the word "mishteh" does not include that. But what do I know.
5. Chazal tell us that if a someone happens to drop money and a poor person picks it up, the person gets credit for fulfilling the mitzvah of tzedakah (see Rashi Ki Teitzei 24:19). The giver may have not even wanted to give away anything, but it doesn't matter, since apparently the kiyum mitzvah of tzedaka is measured based on the to'eles, on the end result of the poor's needs being met. The act of giving is just a means to an end; therefore, whether done intentionally or unintentionally, it's all the same.
What about matanos l'evyonim? Is it the giving which is critical, or is the end result of someone receiving a gift? Nafka minah: can you mail a check beforehand that will arrive in the poor person's mailbox on Purim? Do you have to do the act of giving on Purim day, or is all that matters the fact that the poor receive the gift?
The Ritva (Meg 7) writes that on Purim one doesn't have to be careful who one gives to -- whoever asks for charity, gets -- because the funds distributed on Purim are not for the sake of charity, but rather are for the sake of bringing simcha. In other words, even if the recipient turns out not in truth not to be poor, that's not your concern, because even though the to'eles of the mitzvah of tzedaka was not met, the goal of giving money on Purim is not tzedaka but simcha. R' Noson Gestetner proves from here that unlike tzedakah, the mitzvah of matanos l'evyonim is not measured by the result, but rather is all about the act of giving.
I don't understand his proof from this Ritva. Maybe matanos l'evyonim is in fact about the result, but the result we look for is not whether the needs of a poor person have been met (like the mitzvah of tzedaka) but rather the result we are looking for is whether we have made someone happy.
6. The gemara (18a) says that no one really knows what "achashderanim bnei ha'ramachim" (Esther 8:10) are. Rashash on the spot says that there has to be some peshuto shel mikra here and so he suggests that "achashderanim" means the people of a place by that name, which he identifies a "Astarchan" in Russia. Any idea what place he is referring to? (I am reminded of the riders of Rohan when I read these words, and if you don't know what I am talking about, good for you.)
7. "Chayav inish l'besumei..." The gemara tells us that when the Torah was given there was a beautiful fragrant odor of spices, besamim, that filled the world. On Purim, we reaffirm our kabbalas haTorah and once again, writes the Sefas Emes, the fragrance of Torah fills the air.
"Akatei avdei Achashveirosh anan," we are sill under the rule of Achashveirosh, the gemara says, and therefore there is no hallel on Purim. Even after all was said and done, after the defeat of Haman, Jews were still in galus. But, says the Chasam Sofer, this gufa is why Purim is so filled with simcha. The Purim miracle proved that even in the darkness of galus, Hashem was there watching out for us. Chazal writes that wine was created for the sake of nichun aveilim, as it allows one to put aside one's troubles. Chasam Sofer in his derashos says that this is why we drink on Purim. Put aside the galus, forget the tzarah, put aside the "akatei avdei Achashveirosh anan," and remember that despite all that, Hashem is still there to help.
"V'atah titzaveh es Bnei Yisrael v'yikchu eilecha shemen zayis zach..." Why, asks Ramban, doesn't our parsha use the the simpler formulation of "tzav es Bnei Yisrael..." that is found so often in the Torah? R' Shimon Sofer (Sha'arei Simcha) reminds us (as we've discussed before) that the menorah represents the light of Torah; the squeezing of the oil is the ameilus of learning. The way to convey the light of Torah to others and encourage them to bring their own light into the world is by living a life of Torah oneself. "Atah titzaveh" -- embody the ideal in yourself, and others will follow.
Had Shaul truly embodied the hatred for Amalek that Hashem expected, then the nation would have risen to the challenge of defeating their enemy (see Sefas Emes 5646 for a little deeper insight.)
2. Rav Amram Gaon (quoted in the Hag. Maimoni at the end of Hil Megilah) holds that one should not recite al ha'nisim in ma'ariv of Purim night because it cannot be said until after one has heard the megillah. Why should al ha'nisim be different than ya'aleh v'yavo, which we recite in ma'ariv as soon as Yom Tov or Rosh Chodesh starts?
My son suggested that while the chiyuv to say ya'aleh v'yavo stems from the kedushas ha'yom of yom tov, the chiyuv to say al ha'nisim stems from a requirement to make a zecher of the nes itself. Therefore, until one has read megillah and reminded onself of what the nes is all about, one has no chiyuv to say al ha'nisim.
(What about on Chanukah? R'av Amram Gaon does not say that you have to wait until after hadlakas neiros to say al ha'nisim? My son suggested that the chiyuv of hadlakas menorah is different than the chiyuv of reading megillah. Lighting is a commemoration of the miracle, but it doesn't tell the story of the miracle. That is unique to megillah.)
3. Every detail of the megillah is necessary to tell the story of the nes, writes the Sefas Emes. Each snapshot of history and dialogue included in the megillah is like a puzzle piece that, when combined with all the other pieces, gives us the full picture.
We read in 2:11 that, "B'chol yom v'yom Mordechai mis'haleich lifnei chatzar beis ha'nashim," that every single day Mordechai would visit the woman's court to check on Esther and see how she was faring. Every day! My mother would love it if I called her every day, but I am remiss in doing so more often than not. It's a nice thing to do. It was nice of Mordechai to check up on Esther every day. However, is this really necessary to know in the grand scheme of the whole story? Ok, so maybe I learn a musar haskel to call my mother more often, but why is this important to the story of the megillah?
The answer comes next chapter: "Vaye'hi k'amram eilev yom va'yom..." Every single day Mordechai had to answer the same question: "Why don't you bow to Haman?" When are you going to give in and do what everybody else does. Every day! This is the important part of the story, the issue that will push Haman into hatching his plot and reveal Mordechai as a tzadik. Explains the Sefas Emes, it's only someone who realizes the value of every single day showing concern for others, someone who each and every day takes the time to care for someone like an orphaned girl all alone trapped in the king's palace, those who have no one else to care for them, it's only that person who can rise to the challenge each and every day of answering Haman and his advisors.
4. The Aruch haShulchan proves that to fulfill having a "mishteh" you have to wash and eat bread from the fact that when Lot made a "mishteh" for his visitors, the pasuk tells us "matzos afah va'yocheilu," he baked matzah/bread for them to eat. I would have thought the opposite was true -- since the pasuk has to go out of its way to tell us that he served bread, mistama the word "mishteh" does not include that. But what do I know.
5. Chazal tell us that if a someone happens to drop money and a poor person picks it up, the person gets credit for fulfilling the mitzvah of tzedakah (see Rashi Ki Teitzei 24:19). The giver may have not even wanted to give away anything, but it doesn't matter, since apparently the kiyum mitzvah of tzedaka is measured based on the to'eles, on the end result of the poor's needs being met. The act of giving is just a means to an end; therefore, whether done intentionally or unintentionally, it's all the same.
What about matanos l'evyonim? Is it the giving which is critical, or is the end result of someone receiving a gift? Nafka minah: can you mail a check beforehand that will arrive in the poor person's mailbox on Purim? Do you have to do the act of giving on Purim day, or is all that matters the fact that the poor receive the gift?
The Ritva (Meg 7) writes that on Purim one doesn't have to be careful who one gives to -- whoever asks for charity, gets -- because the funds distributed on Purim are not for the sake of charity, but rather are for the sake of bringing simcha. In other words, even if the recipient turns out not in truth not to be poor, that's not your concern, because even though the to'eles of the mitzvah of tzedaka was not met, the goal of giving money on Purim is not tzedaka but simcha. R' Noson Gestetner proves from here that unlike tzedakah, the mitzvah of matanos l'evyonim is not measured by the result, but rather is all about the act of giving.
I don't understand his proof from this Ritva. Maybe matanos l'evyonim is in fact about the result, but the result we look for is not whether the needs of a poor person have been met (like the mitzvah of tzedaka) but rather the result we are looking for is whether we have made someone happy.
6. The gemara (18a) says that no one really knows what "achashderanim bnei ha'ramachim" (Esther 8:10) are. Rashash on the spot says that there has to be some peshuto shel mikra here and so he suggests that "achashderanim" means the people of a place by that name, which he identifies a "Astarchan" in Russia. Any idea what place he is referring to? (I am reminded of the riders of Rohan when I read these words, and if you don't know what I am talking about, good for you.)
7. "Chayav inish l'besumei..." The gemara tells us that when the Torah was given there was a beautiful fragrant odor of spices, besamim, that filled the world. On Purim, we reaffirm our kabbalas haTorah and once again, writes the Sefas Emes, the fragrance of Torah fills the air.
"Akatei avdei Achashveirosh anan," we are sill under the rule of Achashveirosh, the gemara says, and therefore there is no hallel on Purim. Even after all was said and done, after the defeat of Haman, Jews were still in galus. But, says the Chasam Sofer, this gufa is why Purim is so filled with simcha. The Purim miracle proved that even in the darkness of galus, Hashem was there watching out for us. Chazal writes that wine was created for the sake of nichun aveilim, as it allows one to put aside one's troubles. Chasam Sofer in his derashos says that this is why we drink on Purim. Put aside the galus, forget the tzarah, put aside the "akatei avdei Achashveirosh anan," and remember that despite all that, Hashem is still there to help.
Thursday, March 02, 2017
the mishkan embassy
An amazing vort from R' Shmuel Birenbaum: among the items collected for the Mishkan were precious stones to be used in the choshen. The Torah calls these stones "avnei milu'im" (25:7) because, as Rashi explains, they were used to fill the holes that they were set in. Why would the Torah focus on the fact that these stones served as filler instead of focusing on their inherent precious value and beauty? We see from here, answered R' S Birenbaum, that true value comes from being able to make something, or someone, whole.
The idea I have below is admittedly half-baked and probably needs some work.
The gemara (Kesubos 62) writes that when Rebbi's son was getting engaged, he made a deal with the in-laws that he would learn for 12 years before the wedding. The kallah then passed in front of the chassan, and after he saw her, he said, "How about we make it 6 years?" The kallah came by again, and he said, "How about we first get married and then I go learn?' He was a little embarrassed by the change of heart, but the shverr said to him not to be concerned, as Hashem did the same thing. When we crossed Yam Suf, the plan was "tivi'eimo v'sitaeimo b'har nachalascha," that we will come to Eretz Yisrael, and only then "mikdash Hashem konenu yadecha," we would get a Mikdash. However, as we read in our parsha, Hashem decided to speed things up and give us a Mishkan while we were in the midbar.
Hashem doesn't change his mind like an anxious chassan. What was the hava amina here and what's the maskana?
The Yismach Moshe quotes a Midrash that writes that when Klal Yisrael said na'aseh v'nishma, Hashem responded by giving them the command of "v'yikchu li terumah." What's the connection? According to Ramban, the revelation of Torah that took place at Sinai continued in the Mishkan, and we find many parallels between the two. Just as people had to keep their distance from Sinai, so too, no one could enter the Mishkan if not for the sake of avodah. Moshe was called to ascend Sinai; Moshe heard Hashem calling to him from the Mishkan. The Midrash opens our parsha with a warning of "ki lekach tov nasati lachem torasi al ta'azovu" -- the purpose of the Mishkan was to be a Torah center. Therefore, Hashem originally presented the plan to Klal Yisrael for the Mishkan to be built only after they had time to spend immersed in learning Torah, growing in their love for Torah. By the time they reached Eretz Yisrael they would be ready. Klal Yisrael, however, rose to the occasion, and by saying "na'aseh v'nishma" they demonstrated that they loved Torah already -- there was no need to wait.
I would suggest a slightly different twist. The gemara in Brachos writes that R' Yochanan wondered how there could possibly be old people in Bavel when the Torah promises that the bracha of "l'ma'an yirbu y'meichem," of long life, would be given "al ha'adamah asher nishba Hashem l'avoseichem," only in Eretz Yisrael. The gemara answers that those people blessed with long life earned that reward because they came to shul on time for davening. How does that answer the question -- bottom line, they are not living in Eretz Yisrael? The meforshim quote another gemara that teaches that the shuls and batei midrash of chutz la'aretz will, in the time of geulah, be transported to Eretz Yisrael. In other words, the shuls and batei midrash of Bavel were, in potential, "al ha'adamah asher nishba Hashem l'avoseichem." Just like when you are in a foreign country, if you enter the embassy of your home country, you are on home soil, so too, when one enters a shul or beis midrash one is breathing "avira d'Eretz Yisrael."
Perhaps this is what the gemara in Kesubos means. Originally Hashem presented the plan for the Mikdash as something that could be built only in Eretz Yisrael, not simply, like the Yismach Moshe suggests, as a delay tactic to give people time to acquire a love ofTorah, but because "KI mi'Tzion teitzei Torah" -- it requires geographically being in Eretz Yisrael to truly absorb Torah. However, when Klal Yisrael declared "na'aseh v'nishma," the proved that like the old people of Bavel, a taste of the "avira d'Eretz Yisrael" could be felt in chutz la'aretz as well, and Torah could find a home in an "embassy" there.
The idea I have below is admittedly half-baked and probably needs some work.
The gemara (Kesubos 62) writes that when Rebbi's son was getting engaged, he made a deal with the in-laws that he would learn for 12 years before the wedding. The kallah then passed in front of the chassan, and after he saw her, he said, "How about we make it 6 years?" The kallah came by again, and he said, "How about we first get married and then I go learn?' He was a little embarrassed by the change of heart, but the shverr said to him not to be concerned, as Hashem did the same thing. When we crossed Yam Suf, the plan was "tivi'eimo v'sitaeimo b'har nachalascha," that we will come to Eretz Yisrael, and only then "mikdash Hashem konenu yadecha," we would get a Mikdash. However, as we read in our parsha, Hashem decided to speed things up and give us a Mishkan while we were in the midbar.
Hashem doesn't change his mind like an anxious chassan. What was the hava amina here and what's the maskana?
The Yismach Moshe quotes a Midrash that writes that when Klal Yisrael said na'aseh v'nishma, Hashem responded by giving them the command of "v'yikchu li terumah." What's the connection? According to Ramban, the revelation of Torah that took place at Sinai continued in the Mishkan, and we find many parallels between the two. Just as people had to keep their distance from Sinai, so too, no one could enter the Mishkan if not for the sake of avodah. Moshe was called to ascend Sinai; Moshe heard Hashem calling to him from the Mishkan. The Midrash opens our parsha with a warning of "ki lekach tov nasati lachem torasi al ta'azovu" -- the purpose of the Mishkan was to be a Torah center. Therefore, Hashem originally presented the plan to Klal Yisrael for the Mishkan to be built only after they had time to spend immersed in learning Torah, growing in their love for Torah. By the time they reached Eretz Yisrael they would be ready. Klal Yisrael, however, rose to the occasion, and by saying "na'aseh v'nishma" they demonstrated that they loved Torah already -- there was no need to wait.
I would suggest a slightly different twist. The gemara in Brachos writes that R' Yochanan wondered how there could possibly be old people in Bavel when the Torah promises that the bracha of "l'ma'an yirbu y'meichem," of long life, would be given "al ha'adamah asher nishba Hashem l'avoseichem," only in Eretz Yisrael. The gemara answers that those people blessed with long life earned that reward because they came to shul on time for davening. How does that answer the question -- bottom line, they are not living in Eretz Yisrael? The meforshim quote another gemara that teaches that the shuls and batei midrash of chutz la'aretz will, in the time of geulah, be transported to Eretz Yisrael. In other words, the shuls and batei midrash of Bavel were, in potential, "al ha'adamah asher nishba Hashem l'avoseichem." Just like when you are in a foreign country, if you enter the embassy of your home country, you are on home soil, so too, when one enters a shul or beis midrash one is breathing "avira d'Eretz Yisrael."
Perhaps this is what the gemara in Kesubos means. Originally Hashem presented the plan for the Mikdash as something that could be built only in Eretz Yisrael, not simply, like the Yismach Moshe suggests, as a delay tactic to give people time to acquire a love ofTorah, but because "KI mi'Tzion teitzei Torah" -- it requires geographically being in Eretz Yisrael to truly absorb Torah. However, when Klal Yisrael declared "na'aseh v'nishma," the proved that like the old people of Bavel, a taste of the "avira d'Eretz Yisrael" could be felt in chutz la'aretz as well, and Torah could find a home in an "embassy" there.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
The gemara (Brachos 6) tells us that Hashem's presence is there when 10 people come together to daven, when 3 sit for a din torah, when 2 learn together, and even when one person is learning alone. Asks the gemara: if Hashem is there for one, then certainly he is there for 2 -- why does that have to be spelled out? To which the gemara answers that two get the additional bonus of their good deed being recorded in the "sefer ha'zichronos," so it deserves mention above the reward for one. Asks the gemara: once we know that is true of 2, it goes without saying it's true of 3 -- why spell it out? The gemara answers that I might have though that a din torah is "shlama b'alma," just a negotiated settlement to make peace, a way to iron out civil disputes, kah mashma lan that "dina nami havi torah," the administration of civil justice is also torah, and Hashem therefore is present.
I think this gemara is a good introduction to parshas Mishpatim, the parsha more than any other devoted to civil law. What the gemara seems to be saying is that for us there is really no such thing as civil law, i.e. as google defines it, law "concerned with private relations between members of a community rather than .... religious affairs." That's "shlama b'alma." Mishpatim are torah too, as nothing for us is devoid of religious meaning.
I recently saw a Rabbi write in response to the OU policy statement on women rabbis that in his shul the woman rabbi [or whatever she is called] would give the derasha that Shabbos as an act of "sacred civil disobedience." I thought that was a funny expression. Can you have "civil disobedience" when the issue is a matter of religious law?
Anyway...
The Midrash (30:11) writes that Torah was given to Bnei Yisrael in the morning, but it was only in the evening, "erev," that mishpatim were given. What's the significance of morning vs. evening here?
The Sefas Emes in last week's parsha asks a great question: Yisro said to Moshe that if he, Moshe, is the only judge in Klal Yisrael, he is going to wear himself out, as the people are standing and waiting for him "min boker ad erev," from morning till evening (18:14). Rashi comments: it's impossible that Moshe sat in judgment that long [see Sifsei Chachamim]. The pasuk uses that expression, "boker at erev," to echo the words of creation, "va'yehi erev va'yehi boker," to teach us that a judge who sits and judges honestly even for one hour gets credit as if he participated in the creation of the world. If that's what the pasuk means, says the Sefas Emes, then what was Yisro so concerned about? Moshe wasn't there literally all day-- it's just a figure of speech!
Explains the Sefas Emes (5635), "boker," when the sun is rising and everything is bright and fresh, alludes to clarity. "Erev" is when things are mixed up (ta'aroves = mixture) and muddled. A judge has to take the ideal abstraction of law, which is so clear and refined, and apply it to the messy muddle of contradictory facts and stories that come before him. A judge has to act as the bridge between "boker" and "erev." Whether you are sitting on a case for an hour or for months, makes no difference -- spanning that gap is hard work. That's what Yisro was so concerned about.
This explains why Moshe didn't come up with the idea of appointing judges himself. Moshe saw everything with perfect clarity -- nothing was ever muddled in his eyes. "Kol aliyosav b'hashkama" -- the literal meaning is that he always ascended Har Sinai in the morning; the figurative meaning is that when Moshe approached the law, Har Sinai [yikov ha'din es ha'har], it was always morning, "hashkama," "boker," a time of clarity. There was no gap in his eyes that needed to be spanned.
The Ishbitzer in Mei HaShiloach writes that coming from Parshas Yisro into Mishpatim is like going m'igra ramah l'beira amikta, from the heights of a mountain to the depths of a pit. In other words, it's going from boker to erev.
Our Midrash perhaps reflects the same idea. Torah was given in the morning -- there is clarity in abstract principles. Mishpatim are for the evening, when two ba'alei din are standing before the judge offering competing versions of events, competing versions of truth and justice. Suddenly the truth is not so clear.
The Beis Ya'akov of Ishbitz goes a step further and writes that the true test of whether Parshas Yisro has been internalized only comes this week when we read Mishpatim, when the ideal principles are tested in the real world.
One last point -- were it not Parshas Shekalim we would be reading machar chodesh this week. Since I will probably forget to link to it the next time that comes up, let me give you the link now to a vort on the haftarah from R' Meir Bloch, the Telzer R"Y, that R' M Sorotzkin said in his hesped for R' Moshe Shapiro, at the 7:00 minute mark:
I think this gemara is a good introduction to parshas Mishpatim, the parsha more than any other devoted to civil law. What the gemara seems to be saying is that for us there is really no such thing as civil law, i.e. as google defines it, law "concerned with private relations between members of a community rather than .... religious affairs." That's "shlama b'alma." Mishpatim are torah too, as nothing for us is devoid of religious meaning.
I recently saw a Rabbi write in response to the OU policy statement on women rabbis that in his shul the woman rabbi [or whatever she is called] would give the derasha that Shabbos as an act of "sacred civil disobedience." I thought that was a funny expression. Can you have "civil disobedience" when the issue is a matter of religious law?
Anyway...
The Midrash (30:11) writes that Torah was given to Bnei Yisrael in the morning, but it was only in the evening, "erev," that mishpatim were given. What's the significance of morning vs. evening here?
The Sefas Emes in last week's parsha asks a great question: Yisro said to Moshe that if he, Moshe, is the only judge in Klal Yisrael, he is going to wear himself out, as the people are standing and waiting for him "min boker ad erev," from morning till evening (18:14). Rashi comments: it's impossible that Moshe sat in judgment that long [see Sifsei Chachamim]. The pasuk uses that expression, "boker at erev," to echo the words of creation, "va'yehi erev va'yehi boker," to teach us that a judge who sits and judges honestly even for one hour gets credit as if he participated in the creation of the world. If that's what the pasuk means, says the Sefas Emes, then what was Yisro so concerned about? Moshe wasn't there literally all day-- it's just a figure of speech!
Explains the Sefas Emes (5635), "boker," when the sun is rising and everything is bright and fresh, alludes to clarity. "Erev" is when things are mixed up (ta'aroves = mixture) and muddled. A judge has to take the ideal abstraction of law, which is so clear and refined, and apply it to the messy muddle of contradictory facts and stories that come before him. A judge has to act as the bridge between "boker" and "erev." Whether you are sitting on a case for an hour or for months, makes no difference -- spanning that gap is hard work. That's what Yisro was so concerned about.
This explains why Moshe didn't come up with the idea of appointing judges himself. Moshe saw everything with perfect clarity -- nothing was ever muddled in his eyes. "Kol aliyosav b'hashkama" -- the literal meaning is that he always ascended Har Sinai in the morning; the figurative meaning is that when Moshe approached the law, Har Sinai [yikov ha'din es ha'har], it was always morning, "hashkama," "boker," a time of clarity. There was no gap in his eyes that needed to be spanned.
The Ishbitzer in Mei HaShiloach writes that coming from Parshas Yisro into Mishpatim is like going m'igra ramah l'beira amikta, from the heights of a mountain to the depths of a pit. In other words, it's going from boker to erev.
Our Midrash perhaps reflects the same idea. Torah was given in the morning -- there is clarity in abstract principles. Mishpatim are for the evening, when two ba'alei din are standing before the judge offering competing versions of events, competing versions of truth and justice. Suddenly the truth is not so clear.
The Beis Ya'akov of Ishbitz goes a step further and writes that the true test of whether Parshas Yisro has been internalized only comes this week when we read Mishpatim, when the ideal principles are tested in the real world.
One last point -- were it not Parshas Shekalim we would be reading machar chodesh this week. Since I will probably forget to link to it the next time that comes up, let me give you the link now to a vort on the haftarah from R' Meir Bloch, the Telzer R"Y, that R' M Sorotzkin said in his hesped for R' Moshe Shapiro, at the 7:00 minute mark:
Thursday, February 16, 2017
why couldn't G-d answer the angels himself?
The Torah always puts the mitzvah of kibud av next to the mitzvah of Shabbos: you have it in the aseres hadibros in our parsha, you have it in the second dibros, you have it in Parshas Kedoshim - "Ish imo v'aviv tira'u v'es shabsosei tishmoru." What's the connection? Chidah in Nachal Kedumim explains that on Shabbos one has time to learn in greater depth. When one is mechadesh in Torah on Shabbos it causes one's parents who are in the next world to be rewarded with a crown to wear, a special spiritual boost. Shabbos thus provides the opportunity to fulfill kibud av even when one's parents are no longer here. In keeping with that idea, please learn the divrei Torah for this Shabbos l'zecher nishmas my father, whose yahrzeit will be this upcoming week.
The gemara (Nidah 70) writes that the people of Alexandria in Egypt sent 3 questions of derech eretz to R' Chanina ben Gamliel: how to become smart, how to become rich, and how to have good kids. (We would all love the answers to those too, right?) The first question was how to attain chochma, to which R' Chanina answered that the key is to spend a lot of time in yeshivah learning. They replied that this can't be it, as a lot of people tried that and have not been successful. R' Chanina responded that there is another ingredient needed as well: you have to daven. The gemara concludes that you need both factors, both yeshiva and davning, and one without the other won't work.
The second question was how to get rich, and R' Chanina answered that the key is to spend a lot of time doing business (GR"A takes that out!) and to do so honestly. Again, the people of Alexandria argued that a lot of people tried that and failed, and again, R' Chanina told them there is another ingredient necessary: tefilah. The gemara here too concludes that you need both ingredients together.
The third question was how to have "banim zecharim," and R' Chanina told them that the key was to marry a good wife and to act with tzeniuyus. You can guess the rest of the shakla v'terya at this point : )
I have a one simple question. If the answer to each question was that you need X + tefilah, why didn't R' Chanina say that? Why did he give the people of Alexandria only half the recipe at first, and only when they pressed the point and complained that the recipe did not work did he reveal to them that they needed to daven as well?
The Maharal in his Derush al HaTorah says a fantastic yesod (in Tif Yisrael he says a different answer) that is worth knowing even if you don't think it explains R' Chanina's answers. The gemara famously tells us that when Moshe went up to get the Torah, the angels complained and asked what this human being is doing up in Heaven, in their place. Mankind does not deserve Torah and should stay back down on earth. Moshe Rabeinu was afraid of what the angels might do to him, but Hashem responded that Moshe should just hold on to His throne and answer them, which he did. Maharal asks: why did Hashem put Moshe on the spot and tell him to answer the angels? Moshe was there on Har Sinai only because Hashem and told him to come up the mountain to get the Torah. This was Hashem's plan -- why didn't Hashem answer the angels himself?!
Let me put the Maharal's answer in contemporary terms. A guy or girl might go out on a date because their parents think the boy/girl would be a good match, their rebbe or morah thinks the boy/girl is a good match, their friends think the boy/girl is a good match. But when that boy or girl is standing under the chuppah, if you ask him/her what they are doing there, oy va'voy if all they can say is, "My mother/father/rebbe/morah/friend thinks this is a good match." If they can't say, "I can't think of how I can live without Bas Ploni/Ben Ploni; without him/her my life is incomplete," then l'fi anyiyus da'ati there is something very wrong. When you are under the chuppah, no one else's sevara works to explain what you are doing there.
"Yom chasunaso," explains the Mishna in Ta'anis, is the day of mattan Torah. When the angels came to ask Moshe what he was doing there, no one else could answer that question. G-d himself can't answer that question for him! If you want to be mekabeil the Torah, the answer has to come from you. Torah is the key to achieving perfection, but unless YOU first feel imperfect, lacking, incomplete, without it, you don't really deserve it.
There are a lot of kids who sit in yeshiva listening to their rebbe drone on in shiur, totally bored out of their minds, feeling like it's a jail sentence. If you ask them, "What are you doing here?" the answer these kids will give probably will have to do with where their parents want them to go, what is expected, lack of other choices, etc. They don't feel like they would be missing anything by not being there. You can't be mekabeil Torah unless you feel like you are missing something without it.
Getting back to R' Chanina, I think the gemara deliberately left tefilah off the list of ingredients. R' Chanina wanted the people coming back feeling, "We've tried everything you said and it hasn't worked for us." He wanted them to acknowledge that their best efforts were not just goof enough. Until they felt that there was something more needed beyond what they could muster on their own, until they felt their efforts were incomplete without it, they weren't ready for tefilah.
So when you sit in shul and listen to Parshas Yisro, the question to ask yourself is, "What am I doing here?" Hopefully the answer is not about your neighbors, your husband/wife's expectations, your kids, or your social position. Hopefully it's about how you find fulfillment and where you find fulfillment.
The gemara (Nidah 70) writes that the people of Alexandria in Egypt sent 3 questions of derech eretz to R' Chanina ben Gamliel: how to become smart, how to become rich, and how to have good kids. (We would all love the answers to those too, right?) The first question was how to attain chochma, to which R' Chanina answered that the key is to spend a lot of time in yeshivah learning. They replied that this can't be it, as a lot of people tried that and have not been successful. R' Chanina responded that there is another ingredient needed as well: you have to daven. The gemara concludes that you need both factors, both yeshiva and davning, and one without the other won't work.
The second question was how to get rich, and R' Chanina answered that the key is to spend a lot of time doing business (GR"A takes that out!) and to do so honestly. Again, the people of Alexandria argued that a lot of people tried that and failed, and again, R' Chanina told them there is another ingredient necessary: tefilah. The gemara here too concludes that you need both ingredients together.
The third question was how to have "banim zecharim," and R' Chanina told them that the key was to marry a good wife and to act with tzeniuyus. You can guess the rest of the shakla v'terya at this point : )
I have a one simple question. If the answer to each question was that you need X + tefilah, why didn't R' Chanina say that? Why did he give the people of Alexandria only half the recipe at first, and only when they pressed the point and complained that the recipe did not work did he reveal to them that they needed to daven as well?
The Maharal in his Derush al HaTorah says a fantastic yesod (in Tif Yisrael he says a different answer) that is worth knowing even if you don't think it explains R' Chanina's answers. The gemara famously tells us that when Moshe went up to get the Torah, the angels complained and asked what this human being is doing up in Heaven, in their place. Mankind does not deserve Torah and should stay back down on earth. Moshe Rabeinu was afraid of what the angels might do to him, but Hashem responded that Moshe should just hold on to His throne and answer them, which he did. Maharal asks: why did Hashem put Moshe on the spot and tell him to answer the angels? Moshe was there on Har Sinai only because Hashem and told him to come up the mountain to get the Torah. This was Hashem's plan -- why didn't Hashem answer the angels himself?!
Let me put the Maharal's answer in contemporary terms. A guy or girl might go out on a date because their parents think the boy/girl would be a good match, their rebbe or morah thinks the boy/girl is a good match, their friends think the boy/girl is a good match. But when that boy or girl is standing under the chuppah, if you ask him/her what they are doing there, oy va'voy if all they can say is, "My mother/father/rebbe/morah/friend thinks this is a good match." If they can't say, "I can't think of how I can live without Bas Ploni/Ben Ploni; without him/her my life is incomplete," then l'fi anyiyus da'ati there is something very wrong. When you are under the chuppah, no one else's sevara works to explain what you are doing there.
"Yom chasunaso," explains the Mishna in Ta'anis, is the day of mattan Torah. When the angels came to ask Moshe what he was doing there, no one else could answer that question. G-d himself can't answer that question for him! If you want to be mekabeil the Torah, the answer has to come from you. Torah is the key to achieving perfection, but unless YOU first feel imperfect, lacking, incomplete, without it, you don't really deserve it.
There are a lot of kids who sit in yeshiva listening to their rebbe drone on in shiur, totally bored out of their minds, feeling like it's a jail sentence. If you ask them, "What are you doing here?" the answer these kids will give probably will have to do with where their parents want them to go, what is expected, lack of other choices, etc. They don't feel like they would be missing anything by not being there. You can't be mekabeil Torah unless you feel like you are missing something without it.
Getting back to R' Chanina, I think the gemara deliberately left tefilah off the list of ingredients. R' Chanina wanted the people coming back feeling, "We've tried everything you said and it hasn't worked for us." He wanted them to acknowledge that their best efforts were not just goof enough. Until they felt that there was something more needed beyond what they could muster on their own, until they felt their efforts were incomplete without it, they weren't ready for tefilah.
So when you sit in shul and listen to Parshas Yisro, the question to ask yourself is, "What am I doing here?" Hopefully the answer is not about your neighbors, your husband/wife's expectations, your kids, or your social position. Hopefully it's about how you find fulfillment and where you find fulfillment.
Thursday, February 09, 2017
hungry for mon
A little halacha to start:
Chazal (B"K 82) tell us "ain mayim elah Torah" and darshen the pasuk in our parsha, "Vayeilchu shloshes yamim v'lo matzo mayim," as an allusion to the takanas Nevi'im (the Rambam says it was a takanah made by Moshe himself) not to go three days without public Torah study. We therefore lein on Shabbos, Monday, and Thursday.
Aruch haShulchan (135:5) says a chiddush that if for whatever reason the wrong parsha was leined on a Monday/Thursday, there is no need to do a makeup.
ולפי זה נראה לעניות דעתי דאף על גב דבשבת אם טעו וקראו סדרה אחרת דוודאי חוזרין וקורין הסדרה הזמנית, מכל מקום במנחה ובשני וחמישי כשטעו וקראו פרשה אחרת, מסדרה זו או מאחרת – אינם צריכים לחזור ולקרות. דכיון דאינה עולה לקריאת הציבור, שהרי בשבת הבא יקראוה מחדש, ולא נתקן אלא כדי שלא יהיו שלושה ימים בלא תורה, ומשום יושבי קרנות – ולכן בכל מה שקראו יצאו ידי חובתן. ואפילו אם נזכרו באמצע הקריאה נראה לעניות דעתי דמה שקראו – קראו, והמותר יקרא במה שנצרך היום לקרות.
It seems like there are two parts to his argument: a) we will hear the whole parsha anyway on the upcoming Shabbos; b) the takanah of leining on Monday/Thursday is very different from the takanah of leining on Shabbos. You have to read a specific sidra each Shabbos, but during the week the crucial point is that Torah be read publicly at least once every three days -- what you read is not important, so long as you read something.
Is the idea of not going three days without hearing Torah the geder of the takanah, or just the reason behind instituting leining on Mondays, Thursdays, and Shabbos? A possible nafkah minah might be the question of what to do if leining was missed on a Monday (quoted in Ah"S 135:7). If the geder of the din is to avoid a three day gap without Torah, then maybe leining should be made up on Tuesday, which would avoid the gap. On the other hand, if the takakah designated Monday and Thursday as leining days, then there are no makeups. Avoiding a three day gap is why the takanah was made, but does not define its parameters.
Secondly, a little machshava thought:
Did Bnei Yisrael, coming right off kriyas Yam Suf, really think that Hashem was going to starve them in the desert? That they would not have what to eat, and had to complain to Moshe for food?
The Sefas Emes teaches that a person can have all he/she needs to eat and yet still be hungry.
Baruch Hashem, I see in the newspapers ad after ad for Pesach hotels and vacations, but so many people who have so much these days are so dissatisfied with life. They have an endless hunger for more and more and are never filled up.
We know the navi tells us that at the time of redemption there will be a hunger, but not a hunger for food or drink, but a hunger for the dvar Hashem.
Bnei Yisrael had food, but they wanted more than gashmiyus food to fill their bodies with -- they wanted food that would also be dvar Hashem.
"Posei'ach es yadecha u'masbi'a l'kol chai ratzon" -- the Midrash notes that it doesn't says that Hashem is masbi'a with ochel, food, but rather Hashem is masbia and fulfills people's ratzon, desire. If your ratzon is just for a good meal, Hashem can give you that, but if your desire is for the dvar Hashem, then He will give so much more.
That's why Parshas Eikev, in describing what Hashem did for us in the desert, the Torah tells us, "va'yi'ancha va'yarivecha va'ya'achilcha es ha'mon," Hashem made us hungry and then gave us the mon to eat. Why does the parsha mention the hunger? That was the complaint, the problem. The pasuk should just tell us the wonderful thing Hashem did to solve the problem!
Sefas Emes answers that in this case, the problem was itself a bracha. By all rights we should have been happy to just have enough food. But we weren't. We had a hunger and desire for food that also would be dvar Hashem. That hunger could only be satisfied by the mon.
The Ch haRI"M teaches that on Tu B'Shevat it's decided what chiddushei Torah one will gain during the upcoming year. In other words, Tu B'shevat is not about filling up on dried fruits (or fresh fruits). It's about being hungry for Torah, for Eretz Yisrael, for ruchniyus things.
Chazal (B"K 82) tell us "ain mayim elah Torah" and darshen the pasuk in our parsha, "Vayeilchu shloshes yamim v'lo matzo mayim," as an allusion to the takanas Nevi'im (the Rambam says it was a takanah made by Moshe himself) not to go three days without public Torah study. We therefore lein on Shabbos, Monday, and Thursday.
Aruch haShulchan (135:5) says a chiddush that if for whatever reason the wrong parsha was leined on a Monday/Thursday, there is no need to do a makeup.
ולפי זה נראה לעניות דעתי דאף על גב דבשבת אם טעו וקראו סדרה אחרת דוודאי חוזרין וקורין הסדרה הזמנית, מכל מקום במנחה ובשני וחמישי כשטעו וקראו פרשה אחרת, מסדרה זו או מאחרת – אינם צריכים לחזור ולקרות. דכיון דאינה עולה לקריאת הציבור, שהרי בשבת הבא יקראוה מחדש, ולא נתקן אלא כדי שלא יהיו שלושה ימים בלא תורה, ומשום יושבי קרנות – ולכן בכל מה שקראו יצאו ידי חובתן. ואפילו אם נזכרו באמצע הקריאה נראה לעניות דעתי דמה שקראו – קראו, והמותר יקרא במה שנצרך היום לקרות.
It seems like there are two parts to his argument: a) we will hear the whole parsha anyway on the upcoming Shabbos; b) the takanah of leining on Monday/Thursday is very different from the takanah of leining on Shabbos. You have to read a specific sidra each Shabbos, but during the week the crucial point is that Torah be read publicly at least once every three days -- what you read is not important, so long as you read something.
Is the idea of not going three days without hearing Torah the geder of the takanah, or just the reason behind instituting leining on Mondays, Thursdays, and Shabbos? A possible nafkah minah might be the question of what to do if leining was missed on a Monday (quoted in Ah"S 135:7). If the geder of the din is to avoid a three day gap without Torah, then maybe leining should be made up on Tuesday, which would avoid the gap. On the other hand, if the takakah designated Monday and Thursday as leining days, then there are no makeups. Avoiding a three day gap is why the takanah was made, but does not define its parameters.
Secondly, a little machshava thought:
Did Bnei Yisrael, coming right off kriyas Yam Suf, really think that Hashem was going to starve them in the desert? That they would not have what to eat, and had to complain to Moshe for food?
The Sefas Emes teaches that a person can have all he/she needs to eat and yet still be hungry.
Baruch Hashem, I see in the newspapers ad after ad for Pesach hotels and vacations, but so many people who have so much these days are so dissatisfied with life. They have an endless hunger for more and more and are never filled up.
We know the navi tells us that at the time of redemption there will be a hunger, but not a hunger for food or drink, but a hunger for the dvar Hashem.
Bnei Yisrael had food, but they wanted more than gashmiyus food to fill their bodies with -- they wanted food that would also be dvar Hashem.
"Posei'ach es yadecha u'masbi'a l'kol chai ratzon" -- the Midrash notes that it doesn't says that Hashem is masbi'a with ochel, food, but rather Hashem is masbia and fulfills people's ratzon, desire. If your ratzon is just for a good meal, Hashem can give you that, but if your desire is for the dvar Hashem, then He will give so much more.
That's why Parshas Eikev, in describing what Hashem did for us in the desert, the Torah tells us, "va'yi'ancha va'yarivecha va'ya'achilcha es ha'mon," Hashem made us hungry and then gave us the mon to eat. Why does the parsha mention the hunger? That was the complaint, the problem. The pasuk should just tell us the wonderful thing Hashem did to solve the problem!
Sefas Emes answers that in this case, the problem was itself a bracha. By all rights we should have been happy to just have enough food. But we weren't. We had a hunger and desire for food that also would be dvar Hashem. That hunger could only be satisfied by the mon.
The Ch haRI"M teaches that on Tu B'Shevat it's decided what chiddushei Torah one will gain during the upcoming year. In other words, Tu B'shevat is not about filling up on dried fruits (or fresh fruits). It's about being hungry for Torah, for Eretz Yisrael, for ruchniyus things.
Thursday, February 02, 2017
teaching others for your own sake
The purpose of the makkos, says the Torah, is "l'ma'an tisaper b'oznei bincha u'ben bincha," so that we will relate what happened to our children and to our grandchildren, "v'yidatem ki ani Hashem," and to know that Hashem is the One in charge (10:2) Seforno comments that "v'yidatem" means so that YOU should know, whereas the beginning of the pasuk, "l'ma'an tisaper," is speaking about what future generations will know.
Isn't that backwards? Shouldn't the "v'yidatem" come first, i.e. don't you need to understand the lesson yourself first, and then "l'ma'an tisaper," you can give it over to your children and their children?
The lesson here between the lines is that teaching our children Torah is not just something we need to do for their sake -- it's something we need to do for our OWN sake. Teaching others is a tnai in our own understanding and yediya. The best way to solidify your own beliefs is to express them and try to impress them upon others, especially those who matter most to you, like your own children.
Moshe told Pharoah that the terrible plague of grasshoppers will be something that, "lo ra'u avosecha v'avos avosecha," the parents and grandparents of the Egyptian people had never before seen. (10:6) Why didn't the Torah just say that there was never something like this before in Egypt? Why stress specifically that their parents and grandparents had never seen anything like it?
The Sefas Emes (5644) quotes a Zohar that when a child gets married, even if c"v his/her parent has passed away and is in gan eden, the parent's neshoma is allowed to go down to the world to be at the chuppah with their child. The same is true on the opposite side of the coin as well. When the Egyptians were punished, the neshomos of their parents and grandparents were sent out of gehenom to be with their offspring on earth. The parents and grandparents of the Egyptians had never seen such grasshoppers in their lifetime -- but now, they were going to see it.
Maybe this is also part of what the Torah is telling us by putting "v'yidatem ki ani Hashem" at the end. A person may have already passed into the next world, but because they fulfilled "l'ma'an tisaper," because their children and grandchildren continue to grow in Torah, then through "b'ra mizakeh aba," they too are their vicariously sitting alongside their children and grandchildren in the beis medrash, reaping "v'yidatem ki ani Hashem" in greater measure.
On a final note, last week I posted my wife's query whether a place that women meet in for davening has kedushas beis knesset. Aruch haShulchan 154:7 writes:
וכן בית הכנסת של נשים – יש עליה קדושת בית הכנסת, כיון שהנשים מתפללות שם.
Isn't that backwards? Shouldn't the "v'yidatem" come first, i.e. don't you need to understand the lesson yourself first, and then "l'ma'an tisaper," you can give it over to your children and their children?
The lesson here between the lines is that teaching our children Torah is not just something we need to do for their sake -- it's something we need to do for our OWN sake. Teaching others is a tnai in our own understanding and yediya. The best way to solidify your own beliefs is to express them and try to impress them upon others, especially those who matter most to you, like your own children.
Moshe told Pharoah that the terrible plague of grasshoppers will be something that, "lo ra'u avosecha v'avos avosecha," the parents and grandparents of the Egyptian people had never before seen. (10:6) Why didn't the Torah just say that there was never something like this before in Egypt? Why stress specifically that their parents and grandparents had never seen anything like it?
The Sefas Emes (5644) quotes a Zohar that when a child gets married, even if c"v his/her parent has passed away and is in gan eden, the parent's neshoma is allowed to go down to the world to be at the chuppah with their child. The same is true on the opposite side of the coin as well. When the Egyptians were punished, the neshomos of their parents and grandparents were sent out of gehenom to be with their offspring on earth. The parents and grandparents of the Egyptians had never seen such grasshoppers in their lifetime -- but now, they were going to see it.
Maybe this is also part of what the Torah is telling us by putting "v'yidatem ki ani Hashem" at the end. A person may have already passed into the next world, but because they fulfilled "l'ma'an tisaper," because their children and grandchildren continue to grow in Torah, then through "b'ra mizakeh aba," they too are their vicariously sitting alongside their children and grandchildren in the beis medrash, reaping "v'yidatem ki ani Hashem" in greater measure.
On a final note, last week I posted my wife's query whether a place that women meet in for davening has kedushas beis knesset. Aruch haShulchan 154:7 writes:
וכן בית הכנסת של נשים – יש עליה קדושת בית הכנסת, כיון שהנשים מתפללות שם.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
nevuah that's guaranteed
My wife asked me the following question, which I don't really know the answer to: there is a group of women who get together regularly to daven shacharis together and say tehillim. Does the place that they daven have the din of a beis knesses?
My wife had a hava amina that since there was no minyan, it could not be a beis knesses, but I don't know if the two ideas go hand in hand. You can have a minyan held even semi-regularly in a place that does not have the status of a beis knesses (in some communities where people live far from shul there are something Friday night minyanim in people's homes), so why can't you have a place that has the status of beis knesses but has no minyan? It's just the other side of the same coin.
Any thoughts?
Turning to the parsha, the sefer Nesivei Chaim raises the following question: The Rambam in peirush hamishnayos writes that if a navi says something good is going to happen, you can take it to the bank -- Hashem will never go back on that promise. (The Meshech Chochma quotes this in a number of places which I posted about already here and here.) In the beginning of our parsha, Hashem tells Moshe to tell Bnei Yisrael that he will bring them to Eretz Yisrael, "V'hai'veisi eschem el ha'aretz..." (6:8) Based on the Rambam, that promise should be irrevocable, guaranteed 100%. Yet, that promise was in fact never fulfilled. The generation that left Egypt (at least those over 20) all died in the desert and never made it to Eretz Yisrael. Doesn't that contradict the principle the Rambam sets out? (See Ohr haChaim, Ibn Ezra, Seforno)
Rav Elezri answers by quoting the Rambam's reasoning for his principle. How can you tell a true prophet from a false one? Simple: a true prophet can make claims that are 100% guaranteed. The Rambam's principle serves as a check against doubt and as a means of testing the veracity of nevuah.
Such a test and check may be necessary for all other nevi'im, says Rav Elezri, but not so for Moshe. "V'gam becha ya'aminu l'olam," the Torah promises. Belief in the prophecy of Moshe is a cardinal tenant of our faith. Therefore, since no check against doubt is needed, there is no guarantee of every promise spoken by Moshe coming true.
I think you can make the same argument with a slight twist. In our parsha, Moshe complains to Hashem that if Bnei Yisrael did not listen to him, surely Pharoah will not listen either, "v'ani aral sefasayim," not to mention that he also has a lisp. Why does Moshe bring up his lisp here? Didn't he already make the argument in last week's parsha, and Hashem had already responded that he gives the power of speech and will help Moshe. Why are we revisiting the same argument all over again?
The Techeiles Mordechai, R' Schwadron, explains that Moshe was unique in that "Shechina m'daberes b'toch grono," it was as if G-d was speaking from his mouth. Moshe thought this was the help Hashem would give to overcome Moshe's lisp. However, there is a downside to this type of help. The Rambam's principle only works for a promise made by a navi, not a promise made by Hashem himself.
Moshe thought that if Bnei Yisrael could ignore him, it must be because he is guilty of some cheit, and that cheit is interfering with the message. If so, perhaps Pharoah would not listen. Perhaps the geulah itself would be in jeopardy. "Ani aral sefasayim" -- the words aren't my words, thought Moshe -- they are G-d's words. Therefore, the Rambam's principle that guarantees the words of a navi will come true doesn't apply, and who knows what will happen?
So maybe this is also why the Rambam's principle does not apply to the promise of "V'hei'veisi..." When Moshe made that promise, it was not words of a navi that Bnei Yisrael heard, but rather it was "Shechina m'daberes m'toch grono."
My wife had a hava amina that since there was no minyan, it could not be a beis knesses, but I don't know if the two ideas go hand in hand. You can have a minyan held even semi-regularly in a place that does not have the status of a beis knesses (in some communities where people live far from shul there are something Friday night minyanim in people's homes), so why can't you have a place that has the status of beis knesses but has no minyan? It's just the other side of the same coin.
Any thoughts?
Turning to the parsha, the sefer Nesivei Chaim raises the following question: The Rambam in peirush hamishnayos writes that if a navi says something good is going to happen, you can take it to the bank -- Hashem will never go back on that promise. (The Meshech Chochma quotes this in a number of places which I posted about already here and here.) In the beginning of our parsha, Hashem tells Moshe to tell Bnei Yisrael that he will bring them to Eretz Yisrael, "V'hai'veisi eschem el ha'aretz..." (6:8) Based on the Rambam, that promise should be irrevocable, guaranteed 100%. Yet, that promise was in fact never fulfilled. The generation that left Egypt (at least those over 20) all died in the desert and never made it to Eretz Yisrael. Doesn't that contradict the principle the Rambam sets out? (See Ohr haChaim, Ibn Ezra, Seforno)
Rav Elezri answers by quoting the Rambam's reasoning for his principle. How can you tell a true prophet from a false one? Simple: a true prophet can make claims that are 100% guaranteed. The Rambam's principle serves as a check against doubt and as a means of testing the veracity of nevuah.
Such a test and check may be necessary for all other nevi'im, says Rav Elezri, but not so for Moshe. "V'gam becha ya'aminu l'olam," the Torah promises. Belief in the prophecy of Moshe is a cardinal tenant of our faith. Therefore, since no check against doubt is needed, there is no guarantee of every promise spoken by Moshe coming true.
I think you can make the same argument with a slight twist. In our parsha, Moshe complains to Hashem that if Bnei Yisrael did not listen to him, surely Pharoah will not listen either, "v'ani aral sefasayim," not to mention that he also has a lisp. Why does Moshe bring up his lisp here? Didn't he already make the argument in last week's parsha, and Hashem had already responded that he gives the power of speech and will help Moshe. Why are we revisiting the same argument all over again?
The Techeiles Mordechai, R' Schwadron, explains that Moshe was unique in that "Shechina m'daberes b'toch grono," it was as if G-d was speaking from his mouth. Moshe thought this was the help Hashem would give to overcome Moshe's lisp. However, there is a downside to this type of help. The Rambam's principle only works for a promise made by a navi, not a promise made by Hashem himself.
Moshe thought that if Bnei Yisrael could ignore him, it must be because he is guilty of some cheit, and that cheit is interfering with the message. If so, perhaps Pharoah would not listen. Perhaps the geulah itself would be in jeopardy. "Ani aral sefasayim" -- the words aren't my words, thought Moshe -- they are G-d's words. Therefore, the Rambam's principle that guarantees the words of a navi will come true doesn't apply, and who knows what will happen?
So maybe this is also why the Rambam's principle does not apply to the promise of "V'hei'veisi..." When Moshe made that promise, it was not words of a navi that Bnei Yisrael heard, but rather it was "Shechina m'daberes m'toch grono."
Monday, January 23, 2017
netziv's creative pshat in the parsha of the burning bush
Sometimes a pshat hinges on reading a single word in a way that you never thought of before. A great example in the Netziv's interpretation of the burning bush (3:1-3). He raises two difficulties with the text. First, the nitpicky one: "Ha'sneh ainenu ukal" -- why does the pasuk say "ukal" instead of "ne'echal?" Second, the more striking one: we are told that the bush was "bo'er ba'eish," but then we are told that Moshe went to see "madu'a LO yiv'ar ha'sneh." Was it "bo'er" or was it not "bo'er?!"
We won't get to Parshas Mishpatim for a few weeks, but maybe you remember the source for the nezek of shein from Bava Kama: "Ki yaveir ish sadeh or kerem v'shilach es b'iro u'bi'er b'sdeh acheir..." (22:4) The pasuk there is talking about an animal that grazes is someone else's field and consumes the what is growing there. We see the word "bo'er" doesn't just mean to light on fire and burn -- it can also mean to swallow up and consume.
The Netziv ingeniously suggests that what Moshe saw was a bush that was "bo'er ba'eish," that was consuming, i.e. extinguishing the fire that was burning within it. It was the reverse of the natural order. Normally, it's the fire that consumes the wood as it burns -- here, the wood was consuming the fire.
Maybe, thought Moshe, the fire was simply running out of fuel and that's why it was going out. But no! "Ha'sneh ainenu u'kal," the wood was not consumed, i.e. there was still fuel for the fire. How could it be, wondered Moshe, that "lo yiva'ar ha'sneh," that the fire was dying out without it having consumed the remaining fuel wood of the rest of the bush? How could it be that the decrees of the Egyptians would diminish and eventually go out while there was still a Jewish nation left for the Egyptian to oppress? That, of course, is the question Hashem would answer in the following pesukim.
We won't get to Parshas Mishpatim for a few weeks, but maybe you remember the source for the nezek of shein from Bava Kama: "Ki yaveir ish sadeh or kerem v'shilach es b'iro u'bi'er b'sdeh acheir..." (22:4) The pasuk there is talking about an animal that grazes is someone else's field and consumes the what is growing there. We see the word "bo'er" doesn't just mean to light on fire and burn -- it can also mean to swallow up and consume.
The Netziv ingeniously suggests that what Moshe saw was a bush that was "bo'er ba'eish," that was consuming, i.e. extinguishing the fire that was burning within it. It was the reverse of the natural order. Normally, it's the fire that consumes the wood as it burns -- here, the wood was consuming the fire.
Maybe, thought Moshe, the fire was simply running out of fuel and that's why it was going out. But no! "Ha'sneh ainenu u'kal," the wood was not consumed, i.e. there was still fuel for the fire. How could it be, wondered Moshe, that "lo yiva'ar ha'sneh," that the fire was dying out without it having consumed the remaining fuel wood of the rest of the bush? How could it be that the decrees of the Egyptians would diminish and eventually go out while there was still a Jewish nation left for the Egyptian to oppress? That, of course, is the question Hashem would answer in the following pesukim.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
the real goal of the exodus from Mitzrayim
Hashem appears to Moshe in our parsha and tells him that he is going to redeem the Jewish people from Egypt and take them to Eretz Yisrael, a land of milk and honey (3:8) Hashem then tells Moshe to tell the people that the sign/proof that is the fact that Bnei Yisrael will come and worship Hashem on the very mountain that Hashem appeared to Moshe on (3:12).
R' Moshe Tzuriel in his Derishas Tzion asks two simple questions: 1) If Moshe is giving a sign to establish his bona fides and get everyone onboard with Hashem's plan, shouldn't it precede the events of yetzi'as Mitzrayim? What good is the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh" if it happens only after the exodus is complete? 2) How can "ta'avdun... al ha'har," kabbalas haTorah, all 613 mitzvos, be just a sign, while the one mitzvah of settling Eretz Yisrael be highlighted as the goal of the entire redemption?
R' Ya'akov Emden asks a similar question with respect to the nusach of birchas ha'mazon. We begin "nodeh lecha" by thanking Hashem for "eretz tovah u'rechavah," for Eretz Yisrael, and only later in the bracha give thanks for "al torascha she'limadtanu," for Torah. We received the Torah 40 years before we got to Eretz Yisrael -- shouldn't our thanks for it come first? Isn't Torah the primary thing we should be giving thanks for?
R' Ya'akov Emden answers that coming to Eretz Yisrael may be just one mitzvah and may chronologically have happened after matan Torah, but in terms of tachlis, in terms of defining our purpose and goal, it takes precedence over all else. If the purpose of Judaism was just to learn Torah and do miztvos, we could have gotten on very well in Mitzrayim doing 612 mitzvos and learning Torah once the burden of slavery was removed. But that's not what Hashem wants from us. He wants us to be a nation, which means living in our own country under our own sovereignty. That's the goal. Ramban (VaYikra 18:25) writes that the ikar kiyum of all mitzvos is only in Eretz Yisrael. What we do in chutz la'aretz is just to keep us practice until we can return to the ideal. Therefore, we first give thanks for Eretz Yisrael, and then go into the details of everything else.
When Moshe told Bnei Yisrael the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh," it was not designed to prove to them that they would leave Egypt -- it happened too late for that. It was a sign meant to inspire them to the real end goal -- to come to Eretz Yisrael.
R' Moshe Tzuriel in his Derishas Tzion asks two simple questions: 1) If Moshe is giving a sign to establish his bona fides and get everyone onboard with Hashem's plan, shouldn't it precede the events of yetzi'as Mitzrayim? What good is the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh" if it happens only after the exodus is complete? 2) How can "ta'avdun... al ha'har," kabbalas haTorah, all 613 mitzvos, be just a sign, while the one mitzvah of settling Eretz Yisrael be highlighted as the goal of the entire redemption?
R' Ya'akov Emden asks a similar question with respect to the nusach of birchas ha'mazon. We begin "nodeh lecha" by thanking Hashem for "eretz tovah u'rechavah," for Eretz Yisrael, and only later in the bracha give thanks for "al torascha she'limadtanu," for Torah. We received the Torah 40 years before we got to Eretz Yisrael -- shouldn't our thanks for it come first? Isn't Torah the primary thing we should be giving thanks for?
R' Ya'akov Emden answers that coming to Eretz Yisrael may be just one mitzvah and may chronologically have happened after matan Torah, but in terms of tachlis, in terms of defining our purpose and goal, it takes precedence over all else. If the purpose of Judaism was just to learn Torah and do miztvos, we could have gotten on very well in Mitzrayim doing 612 mitzvos and learning Torah once the burden of slavery was removed. But that's not what Hashem wants from us. He wants us to be a nation, which means living in our own country under our own sovereignty. That's the goal. Ramban (VaYikra 18:25) writes that the ikar kiyum of all mitzvos is only in Eretz Yisrael. What we do in chutz la'aretz is just to keep us practice until we can return to the ideal. Therefore, we first give thanks for Eretz Yisrael, and then go into the details of everything else.
When Moshe told Bnei Yisrael the sign of "ta'avdun es haElokim al ha'har ha'zeh," it was not designed to prove to them that they would leave Egypt -- it happened too late for that. It was a sign meant to inspire them to the real end goal -- to come to Eretz Yisrael.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Purim in January!
I am always short of time so its only occasionally that I get to post a rant on current events, but I would really be remiss if I didn't at least mention that baruch Hashem this year we get an extra opportunity to celebrate Purim. No, it's not a leap year with two Adars -- what it is is an election year, and that means in two days we will finally be rid of the modern day Achashveirosh and Haman all rolled into one, namely, Hussein Obama. It's Purim in January!
We will finally be rid of the man who brought us the Iran deal, Obamacare, tons of debt, a record number of people on food stamps and gvt assistance, a record number of people who have dropped out of the workforce, a record number of consecutive quarters with less than 3% GDP growth, hundreds of thousands of dead in Syria, and I can go on and on. A man who did more to damage America at home and abroad than any other President in my lifetime, including Carter, y'mach shemo, another anti-Semite Jew hater.
And for those who continue to applaud Democrats like Schumer, a man who called himself "Shomer Yisrael," but then spent weeks thinking about how to vote on the Iran deal, only to in the end not raise a rally cry against It, a man who supports Keith Ellison, another Democrat anti-Semite, I have to ask: ad masai?
But little disappointments like that can't cast a damper on the upcoming holiday. B'sha'as chedvah, chedvah.
I just had to do a little post on this to share the simcha.
We will finally be rid of the man who brought us the Iran deal, Obamacare, tons of debt, a record number of people on food stamps and gvt assistance, a record number of people who have dropped out of the workforce, a record number of consecutive quarters with less than 3% GDP growth, hundreds of thousands of dead in Syria, and I can go on and on. A man who did more to damage America at home and abroad than any other President in my lifetime, including Carter, y'mach shemo, another anti-Semite Jew hater.
And for those who continue to applaud Democrats like Schumer, a man who called himself "Shomer Yisrael," but then spent weeks thinking about how to vote on the Iran deal, only to in the end not raise a rally cry against It, a man who supports Keith Ellison, another Democrat anti-Semite, I have to ask: ad masai?
But little disappointments like that can't cast a damper on the upcoming holiday. B'sha'as chedvah, chedvah.
I just had to do a little post on this to share the simcha.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Yosef's shtar eirusin
When Yosef brings his children to Ya'akov for a blessing, the parsha tells us that Ya'akov asks, "Who are they?" (48:8) Rashi explains that Ya'akov saw Yeravam and Achav coming from Ephraim, and he saw Yeihu coming from Menashe, and he did not want to bestow a blessing that would trickle down to such evildoers. (Parenthetically, we see that the potential for bracha to be misused by those who are evil outweighs all the good that might come from the tzadikim in Ephraim and Menashe's offspring who could use the bracha properly.)
Yosef responds to his father, "They are my children..." Rashi explains that Yosef showed his father the shtar eirusin and kesubah, his marriage contract.
What kind of answer is that? Ya'akov is bothered by the fact that his great...great grandchildren will be resha'im, so Yosef shows him a marriage contract?
The Kozhiglover points out that although Chazal tell us (Sanhedrin 90) that Yeravam and Achav have no portion in the world to come, the "Dorshei Reshumos" disagree. The Kozhiglover (and R' Tzadok haKohen as well) explains that the "Dorshei Reshumos" were able to detect a "roshem," some mark and spark of goodness and yahadus, where all others just saw evil. There is always something left, some faint remnant -- a Jew is never lost.
Where does that inextinguishable spark come from? We say every morning when we put on tefillin, "V'eirastich li l'olam..." Hashem has betrothed us forever. Hashem is eternal, and so the bond he has with us is eternal.
This, says the Koshiglover, is the shtar eirusin that Yosef showed his father -- the shtar of "v'eirastich li l'olam." The keubah he showed his father is the Torah that we got "b'yom chasumaso," as the Mishna (end of Ta'anis) calls ma'amad Har Sinai. Yosef was from the school of the Doreshei Reshumos, who held that despite the great evil of Yeravam and Achav, there still remains a core of eternal goodness within.
Yosef responds to his father, "They are my children..." Rashi explains that Yosef showed his father the shtar eirusin and kesubah, his marriage contract.
What kind of answer is that? Ya'akov is bothered by the fact that his great...great grandchildren will be resha'im, so Yosef shows him a marriage contract?
The Kozhiglover points out that although Chazal tell us (Sanhedrin 90) that Yeravam and Achav have no portion in the world to come, the "Dorshei Reshumos" disagree. The Kozhiglover (and R' Tzadok haKohen as well) explains that the "Dorshei Reshumos" were able to detect a "roshem," some mark and spark of goodness and yahadus, where all others just saw evil. There is always something left, some faint remnant -- a Jew is never lost.
Where does that inextinguishable spark come from? We say every morning when we put on tefillin, "V'eirastich li l'olam..." Hashem has betrothed us forever. Hashem is eternal, and so the bond he has with us is eternal.
This, says the Koshiglover, is the shtar eirusin that Yosef showed his father -- the shtar of "v'eirastich li l'olam." The keubah he showed his father is the Torah that we got "b'yom chasumaso," as the Mishna (end of Ta'anis) calls ma'amad Har Sinai. Yosef was from the school of the Doreshei Reshumos, who held that despite the great evil of Yeravam and Achav, there still remains a core of eternal goodness within.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
how can Ramban argue on Chazal - what is the "true" meaning of the text?
I wanted to write a fuller post about this issue, but haven't had time, so I figure better a chatzi shiur than nothing at all.
The Ramban at the end of VaYigash (47:18) tries to reconcile Joseph's interpretation of Pharoah's dream, which called for 7 years of famine, with the events at the end of the parsha, which seem to indicate that the famine ended after only two years (as is Rashi's position quoting Chazal). If the famine indeed ended, wouldn't that call into question Yosef's prediction and advice? Ramban offers three possible solutions:
1) The famine ended completely in Egypt, bas Chazal teach, but it continued in Canaan and the surrounding areas;
2) The view of the Tosefta: the famine temporarily ended in Egypt after 2 years until the death of Ya'akov, after which it resumed for another 5 years;
3) Ramban's interpretation al pi peshuto: the famine ran for seven consecutive years as Yosef had predicted, and the events in the parsha are speaking about the final two years of famine.
R' Friedlander in Sifsei Chaim (Pirkei Emunah u'Bechira vol 2 . 261) asks the following question: the famine lasted either 2 years or 7 tears -- it couldn't have been both. The two views are mutually exclusive. Ramban and Chazal are arguing on a matter of metzi'us, a matter of historical fact. If Chazal, as Rashi quotes, and as the Tosefta teaches, tell us that the historical fact is that the famine lasted only 2 years, how can the Ramban contradict Chazal and tell us that it lasted 7 years?
In other words, when the pshat and the derash contradict as to what happened -- matters of fact -- either one or the other is true. How can we disregard what Chazal teach us is the TRUTH in favor of some other interpretation? If Torah she'ba'al peh gives us the facts, what license do we have to argue?
I'm surprised that R' Friedlander makes no mention of the fact that his rebbe, Rav Dessler, addresses this very same question in a letter printed in Michtav M'Eliyahu vol 4 letter 31 (post on it here).
Be that as it may, his answer in a nutshell is that we have to distinguish between the way the Torah expresses itself, what I would call the signon, and the true meaning of what is being said. The TRUE meaning is of course what Chazal tell us the text means. However, the Torah deliberately expresses itself in a way that suggests other meanings because those other meanings have value for us as well. For example, when we are told to put tefillin "bein einecha," the TRUE meaning of those words is not between your eyes, as that is not the proper place for tefillin. But we need to appreciate that the pshat does mean between your eyes because that also teaches us a lesson -- the ideas contained in tefillin should be before our eyes, i.e. in our minds, always.
Two points: 1) It works well for the tefillin example, but I don't see how this approach resolves the Ramban; 2) More importantly, I hesitate to say it, but I don't really think the pashtanim understood things this way. My impression (e.g. see hakdamah to Ohr haChaim) is that the pashtanim understood that they did have license to argue with Chazal as to what the meaning of the text is. They understood that Chazal are suggesting a possible meaning to the text, but not THE meaning, at least as it applies outside the realm of halacha.
Developing this idea would take a lot longer to do than I have time for now, so that's it for the chatzi shiur. A mareh makom to the idea to think about.
The Ramban at the end of VaYigash (47:18) tries to reconcile Joseph's interpretation of Pharoah's dream, which called for 7 years of famine, with the events at the end of the parsha, which seem to indicate that the famine ended after only two years (as is Rashi's position quoting Chazal). If the famine indeed ended, wouldn't that call into question Yosef's prediction and advice? Ramban offers three possible solutions:
1) The famine ended completely in Egypt, bas Chazal teach, but it continued in Canaan and the surrounding areas;
2) The view of the Tosefta: the famine temporarily ended in Egypt after 2 years until the death of Ya'akov, after which it resumed for another 5 years;
3) Ramban's interpretation al pi peshuto: the famine ran for seven consecutive years as Yosef had predicted, and the events in the parsha are speaking about the final two years of famine.
R' Friedlander in Sifsei Chaim (Pirkei Emunah u'Bechira vol 2 . 261) asks the following question: the famine lasted either 2 years or 7 tears -- it couldn't have been both. The two views are mutually exclusive. Ramban and Chazal are arguing on a matter of metzi'us, a matter of historical fact. If Chazal, as Rashi quotes, and as the Tosefta teaches, tell us that the historical fact is that the famine lasted only 2 years, how can the Ramban contradict Chazal and tell us that it lasted 7 years?
In other words, when the pshat and the derash contradict as to what happened -- matters of fact -- either one or the other is true. How can we disregard what Chazal teach us is the TRUTH in favor of some other interpretation? If Torah she'ba'al peh gives us the facts, what license do we have to argue?
I'm surprised that R' Friedlander makes no mention of the fact that his rebbe, Rav Dessler, addresses this very same question in a letter printed in Michtav M'Eliyahu vol 4 letter 31 (post on it here).
Be that as it may, his answer in a nutshell is that we have to distinguish between the way the Torah expresses itself, what I would call the signon, and the true meaning of what is being said. The TRUE meaning is of course what Chazal tell us the text means. However, the Torah deliberately expresses itself in a way that suggests other meanings because those other meanings have value for us as well. For example, when we are told to put tefillin "bein einecha," the TRUE meaning of those words is not between your eyes, as that is not the proper place for tefillin. But we need to appreciate that the pshat does mean between your eyes because that also teaches us a lesson -- the ideas contained in tefillin should be before our eyes, i.e. in our minds, always.
Two points: 1) It works well for the tefillin example, but I don't see how this approach resolves the Ramban; 2) More importantly, I hesitate to say it, but I don't really think the pashtanim understood things this way. My impression (e.g. see hakdamah to Ohr haChaim) is that the pashtanim understood that they did have license to argue with Chazal as to what the meaning of the text is. They understood that Chazal are suggesting a possible meaning to the text, but not THE meaning, at least as it applies outside the realm of halacha.
Developing this idea would take a lot longer to do than I have time for now, so that's it for the chatzi shiur. A mareh makom to the idea to think about.
Sunday, January 08, 2017
rejoicing in the midas hadin
The Torah tells us that one his way down to Mitzrayim, Yakaov stopped to offer korbanos "Elokei aviv Yitzhak," the G-d of his father Yitzchak (46:1). Why did he single out Yitzchak? Why not "Elokei avosav," or "Elokei Avraham v'Yitzchak?" (see Rashi)
Yitchak represents the midas ha'din. Ya'akov had suffered for so many years and through so many sorrows, the culmination of which was the loss of Yosef. He was certainly familiar with din and mishpat. Suddenly he discovers that Yosef is alive, that he is a leader in Egypt, that the family will be safe. What he had seen as punishment had in fact been rachamei Shamayim. Suddenly, he has a completely different perspective on what din is all about, and so he turns, "l'Elokei Yitzchak," to offer korbanos in appreciation for that midas ha'din, which was really rachamim in disguise.
The Navi tells us "Tzom he're'vi'i v'tzom ha'chamishi..." will become days of "sason v'simcha," days of rejoicing. Chasam Sofer (Toras Moshe, end of Vayigash, d"h "v'yiten") explains that it doesn't mean that Hashem will take away the fast days and we will forget all about them and that's why we will be happy. It means that the fast itself will bring us rejoicing. So long as we fast and pray, so long as Hashem inspires us to fast and pray, it means we have a connection to Him. That connection itself is a sign of rachamei Shamayim, that we are not forsaken even amidst the galus. Like Ya'akov Avinu, we will one day look back and give thanks and celebrate even the midas ha'din.
Yitchak represents the midas ha'din. Ya'akov had suffered for so many years and through so many sorrows, the culmination of which was the loss of Yosef. He was certainly familiar with din and mishpat. Suddenly he discovers that Yosef is alive, that he is a leader in Egypt, that the family will be safe. What he had seen as punishment had in fact been rachamei Shamayim. Suddenly, he has a completely different perspective on what din is all about, and so he turns, "l'Elokei Yitzchak," to offer korbanos in appreciation for that midas ha'din, which was really rachamim in disguise.
The Navi tells us "Tzom he're'vi'i v'tzom ha'chamishi..." will become days of "sason v'simcha," days of rejoicing. Chasam Sofer (Toras Moshe, end of Vayigash, d"h "v'yiten") explains that it doesn't mean that Hashem will take away the fast days and we will forget all about them and that's why we will be happy. It means that the fast itself will bring us rejoicing. So long as we fast and pray, so long as Hashem inspires us to fast and pray, it means we have a connection to Him. That connection itself is a sign of rachamei Shamayim, that we are not forsaken even amidst the galus. Like Ya'akov Avinu, we will one day look back and give thanks and celebrate even the midas ha'din.
Thursday, January 05, 2017
the unspoken argument
1. The Midrash writes that Ya'akov should have been brought down to Egypt in chains, but Hashem didn't want to do that to him; therefore he caused Yosef to be brought to Egypt in advance and Yaakov then went willingly, to meet his long lost son.
What did Ya'akov do to deserve to be brought in chains? Why did he deserve that punishment?
Like we saw last week, sometimes what looks like a bug is really a feature. Sefas Emes explains that the holiness of Ya'akov was so great that it could not be contained or be placed in a spot like Egypt. It would be like trying to connect the wiring in your house directly to the power station -- you would blow up the entire house. You need transformers to reduce the power step by step along the way so that it can be contained. This is the chains that the Midrash is referring to -- "transformers" that would modulate the holiness of Ya'akov step by step. But that's not how it happened. Thanks to Yosef being there, Ya'akov was able to come into Egypt in one step. The kedusha of Ya'akov was able to be preserved in full force even in the darkness of galus.
2. Yehudah's plea for mercy for Binyamin culminates with his telling Yosef, "How can I possibly return without the lad [Binyamin] and have to witness the pain of my father?" (44:34) Similarly, earlier in his speech, Yehudah says that "nafsho keshurah b'nafsho," his father's soul was bound up with Binyamin's; Ya'akov was liable to die should he lose Binyamin. It is Ya'akov's pain which is the focal point of Yehudah's entreaties.
Two weeks ago I quoted from Chazal that Yehudah was punished for putting his olam ha'ba on the line should he fail to bring Binyamin home. Even saying such a thing with conditions attached is deadly serious! It was only Moshe Rabeinu's tefilos on Yehudah's behalf that undid the decree. So why does Yehudah barely mention this in his plea? Why does he bring it up only in passing, as a justification why he more than any other brother was doing the talking (Rashi 44:32)? You would think the potential loss of his own olam ha'ba would be of central concern to Yehudah.
Had you asked me I would have said that maybe Yehudah, thinking he was addressing an Egyptian viceroy, might have figured that the loss of olam ha'ba would not have made much of an impression on an Egyptian. The truth though is that Egyptian culture was very much concerned with the fate of souls after death. They may not have known what olam ha'ba is, but the concept would not have been completely foreign.
The Sefas Emes (5640) answers that this missing argument of Yehudah's -- what he failed to say more than what he did say -- is what caused Yosef to reveal himself. Years ago these same shevatim had seen Yosef as a threat to themselves, and they acted to preserve their own standing at the expense of their father's pain. Now, Yehudah was concerned only for his father's pain, ignoring his personal concerns. If Yehudah could put aside his personal plight and focus only on the needs of his father, was it too much to ask the Viceroy to do the same and put aside his own claims to Binyamin for the sake of another's welfare? These are shevatim who have been cured of their past sin.
What did Ya'akov do to deserve to be brought in chains? Why did he deserve that punishment?
Like we saw last week, sometimes what looks like a bug is really a feature. Sefas Emes explains that the holiness of Ya'akov was so great that it could not be contained or be placed in a spot like Egypt. It would be like trying to connect the wiring in your house directly to the power station -- you would blow up the entire house. You need transformers to reduce the power step by step along the way so that it can be contained. This is the chains that the Midrash is referring to -- "transformers" that would modulate the holiness of Ya'akov step by step. But that's not how it happened. Thanks to Yosef being there, Ya'akov was able to come into Egypt in one step. The kedusha of Ya'akov was able to be preserved in full force even in the darkness of galus.
2. Yehudah's plea for mercy for Binyamin culminates with his telling Yosef, "How can I possibly return without the lad [Binyamin] and have to witness the pain of my father?" (44:34) Similarly, earlier in his speech, Yehudah says that "nafsho keshurah b'nafsho," his father's soul was bound up with Binyamin's; Ya'akov was liable to die should he lose Binyamin. It is Ya'akov's pain which is the focal point of Yehudah's entreaties.
Two weeks ago I quoted from Chazal that Yehudah was punished for putting his olam ha'ba on the line should he fail to bring Binyamin home. Even saying such a thing with conditions attached is deadly serious! It was only Moshe Rabeinu's tefilos on Yehudah's behalf that undid the decree. So why does Yehudah barely mention this in his plea? Why does he bring it up only in passing, as a justification why he more than any other brother was doing the talking (Rashi 44:32)? You would think the potential loss of his own olam ha'ba would be of central concern to Yehudah.
Had you asked me I would have said that maybe Yehudah, thinking he was addressing an Egyptian viceroy, might have figured that the loss of olam ha'ba would not have made much of an impression on an Egyptian. The truth though is that Egyptian culture was very much concerned with the fate of souls after death. They may not have known what olam ha'ba is, but the concept would not have been completely foreign.
The Sefas Emes (5640) answers that this missing argument of Yehudah's -- what he failed to say more than what he did say -- is what caused Yosef to reveal himself. Years ago these same shevatim had seen Yosef as a threat to themselves, and they acted to preserve their own standing at the expense of their father's pain. Now, Yehudah was concerned only for his father's pain, ignoring his personal concerns. If Yehudah could put aside his personal plight and focus only on the needs of his father, was it too much to ask the Viceroy to do the same and put aside his own claims to Binyamin for the sake of another's welfare? These are shevatim who have been cured of their past sin.
ha'od *avi* chai - is MY father still alive?
When Yosef revealed himself, "Ani Yosef -- ha'od avi chai?" the shevatim were too stunned to answer. Chazal see this as a model of how we will react when G-d reproves us on the day of judgment. If the great shevatim could not answer the reproof of their brother, surely we will be struck dumb when G-d reveals the truth of what we should have done with life to us.
Chazal refer to Yosef's words as reproof, rebuke, but the meforshim struggle to see how that description fits. Yosef didn't give his brother's a musar shmooz and tear into them. To the contrary, he just revealed who his is as a statement of fact. R' Chaim Shmuelevitz in the Sichos Musar suggests that this is what real reproof consists us -- a revelation of truth that undermines all false assumptions. Imagine a scientist who constructs an elaborate theory as to how and when species X went extinct. You can argue from today till tomorrow whether the theory is right, but if someone walks into with a living specimen of species X, all bets are off. That's tochacha. The brothers theorized that Yosef would amount to no good. "Ani Yosef" -- I am Yosef the tzadik, even though I have been in Egypt. You declared my Torah extinct and my religiosity extinct, but here I am.
The Netziv points out that Yosef asks, "Ha'od *avi* chai?" -- Is *my* father still alive. Yosef was telling the brothers that although Ya'akov was the father of the entire family, he had a unique relationship with each one of his children. To think that getting rid of even one brother would make no difference -- after all, there were 11 others -- missed that point. How could *my* father continue to live absent that special relationship all these years?
Rav Charlap (the son of Rav Y"M Charlap) says an amazing pshat in this pasuk. He suggests that it is not speaking about Ya'akov at all. We know that when the brothers came to Egypt, they did not recognize Yosef, but he was able to recognized them. This was by Divine design in order so that Yosef would be able to bring about the fulfillment of his dreams. Yosef, however, did not know that. He wondered the entire time how it was possible that his brothers could be around him and fail to recognize him. After all, Rashi tells us (37:2) that he resembled their father Ya'akov Avinu! Yosef wondered to himself whether he had lost his yiddishe panim, the dmus d'yukno, the spiritual resemblance to his father. Perhaps he had been influenced too greatly by Egyptian society. When he now reveals himself, he asks his brothers, "Ha'od avi chai," is the semblance to my father that I left home with still alive within me? Do I still look like one of the shivtei K-h, like Ya'akov Avinu?
At this point there was no longer a need for Divine intervention to keep up the charade, and so the mask was off. The brothers now saw in the face of Yosef that this was indeed their brother, that he still retained the resemblance, spiritually as well as physically, so their father. They could not answer, "ki nivhalu mi'panav," because they were astounded at his face, the face they now recognized.
Chazal refer to Yosef's words as reproof, rebuke, but the meforshim struggle to see how that description fits. Yosef didn't give his brother's a musar shmooz and tear into them. To the contrary, he just revealed who his is as a statement of fact. R' Chaim Shmuelevitz in the Sichos Musar suggests that this is what real reproof consists us -- a revelation of truth that undermines all false assumptions. Imagine a scientist who constructs an elaborate theory as to how and when species X went extinct. You can argue from today till tomorrow whether the theory is right, but if someone walks into with a living specimen of species X, all bets are off. That's tochacha. The brothers theorized that Yosef would amount to no good. "Ani Yosef" -- I am Yosef the tzadik, even though I have been in Egypt. You declared my Torah extinct and my religiosity extinct, but here I am.
The Netziv points out that Yosef asks, "Ha'od *avi* chai?" -- Is *my* father still alive. Yosef was telling the brothers that although Ya'akov was the father of the entire family, he had a unique relationship with each one of his children. To think that getting rid of even one brother would make no difference -- after all, there were 11 others -- missed that point. How could *my* father continue to live absent that special relationship all these years?
Rav Charlap (the son of Rav Y"M Charlap) says an amazing pshat in this pasuk. He suggests that it is not speaking about Ya'akov at all. We know that when the brothers came to Egypt, they did not recognize Yosef, but he was able to recognized them. This was by Divine design in order so that Yosef would be able to bring about the fulfillment of his dreams. Yosef, however, did not know that. He wondered the entire time how it was possible that his brothers could be around him and fail to recognize him. After all, Rashi tells us (37:2) that he resembled their father Ya'akov Avinu! Yosef wondered to himself whether he had lost his yiddishe panim, the dmus d'yukno, the spiritual resemblance to his father. Perhaps he had been influenced too greatly by Egyptian society. When he now reveals himself, he asks his brothers, "Ha'od avi chai," is the semblance to my father that I left home with still alive within me? Do I still look like one of the shivtei K-h, like Ya'akov Avinu?
At this point there was no longer a need for Divine intervention to keep up the charade, and so the mask was off. The brothers now saw in the face of Yosef that this was indeed their brother, that he still retained the resemblance, spiritually as well as physically, so their father. They could not answer, "ki nivhalu mi'panav," because they were astounded at his face, the face they now recognized.
Sunday, January 01, 2017
zos chanukah
"V'Choshech al pnei tehom" -- We all learned in history books about the Dark Ages between 500-1000, but Midrash darshens that there was a different dark ages. "Choshech," explains the Midrash, is the time of the Greek empire. Even though there was culture, philosophy, art, etc. in Greece, it was a time of great spiritual darkness.
We unfortunately have been in a few galiyos -- Bavel, Paras, Edom, and Greece. Couldn't each galus be rightfully described as a time of spiritual darkness? Why is the Greek empire in particular singled out?
Sefas Emes answers that in each of the other galiyos we lacked the Beis haMikdash. It's no big deal to say that galus caused darkness when the greatest source of light in the world was absent. The tragedy of the Greek oppression is that it happened when we had a Beis haMikdash, the oro shel olam. To bring darkness to the world when there is that bright light that should be shining -- that's something. Because we were able to overcome Yavan, we celebrate the Festival of Lights. Because they tried to extinguish the light, in the end there is more light brought into the world.
I think I once posted the Sefas Emes' question: Moshe went up to Sinai for 40 days to get the Torah, he spent 40 days there davening for Hashem to forgive the cheit ha'eigel. Why did he need to spend another 40 days there to get the luchos sheniyos and get the Torah a second time? He knew it all from the first 40 days -- it's the same Torah laws?
Sefas Emes answers that b'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. After the middle 40 days Bnei Yisrael were on the level of ba'alei teshuvah as they had repented from the cheit ha'eigel. The Torah of the ba'al teshuvah is a different Torah, a higher Torah. It took another 40 days to learn that Torah.
Chanukah is the chanukas hamikdash, the rededication of the Temple. But the Mikdash had not fallen, it had not been dismantled or destroyed. Why did it need to be rededicated?
Here too, explains the Sefas Emes, Bnei Yisrael had sinned and become corrupted by Greek ideology. Chanukah was a time of teshuvah. Bnei Yisrael rejected that ideology and returned to Torah. B'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. The Beis HaMikdash post-teshuvah is a different Beis haMikdash, a higher, more exalted Beis haMikdash, than the Beis haMikdash which had always been there from beforehand. That Mikdash needed to be dedicated.
The Rambam writes that Chanukah marks the restoration of the sovereignty of the Jewish people in Eretz Yisrael, at least temporarily. We cannot recite hallel on Purim because "akatei avdei Achashveirsh anan," we are still ruled by Achashveirosh, but we do recite full hallel on Chanukah. Sefas Emes elsewhere writes that the chanukas hamikdash was really a dedication of the mikdash of the future geulah, when we will once again rule Eretz Yisrael independently, have a Mikdash, and be immune from outside influences. Chanukah is a taste of the future.
We have a Yom Tov derabbanan, writes Sefas Emes, that corresponds with each one of the Yamim Yovim, the three regalim, of the Torah. On Shavuos we received the Torah, and so we have a holiday of Purim where "kiymu v'kiblu," we affirm that acceptance. We have Sukkos where we offer korbanos that correspond to the 70 nations, and on Chanukah, we light counting down according to Beis Shamai, to correspond to those korbanos (there are other links as well). Pesach is the holiday of redemption, and in the future we will one day have a holiday of redemption as well, a holiday to celebrate our freedom and our return to Eretz Yisrael (check your calendar in a little over four months : ).
We unfortunately have been in a few galiyos -- Bavel, Paras, Edom, and Greece. Couldn't each galus be rightfully described as a time of spiritual darkness? Why is the Greek empire in particular singled out?
Sefas Emes answers that in each of the other galiyos we lacked the Beis haMikdash. It's no big deal to say that galus caused darkness when the greatest source of light in the world was absent. The tragedy of the Greek oppression is that it happened when we had a Beis haMikdash, the oro shel olam. To bring darkness to the world when there is that bright light that should be shining -- that's something. Because we were able to overcome Yavan, we celebrate the Festival of Lights. Because they tried to extinguish the light, in the end there is more light brought into the world.
I think I once posted the Sefas Emes' question: Moshe went up to Sinai for 40 days to get the Torah, he spent 40 days there davening for Hashem to forgive the cheit ha'eigel. Why did he need to spend another 40 days there to get the luchos sheniyos and get the Torah a second time? He knew it all from the first 40 days -- it's the same Torah laws?
Sefas Emes answers that b'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. After the middle 40 days Bnei Yisrael were on the level of ba'alei teshuvah as they had repented from the cheit ha'eigel. The Torah of the ba'al teshuvah is a different Torah, a higher Torah. It took another 40 days to learn that Torah.
Chanukah is the chanukas hamikdash, the rededication of the Temple. But the Mikdash had not fallen, it had not been dismantled or destroyed. Why did it need to be rededicated?
Here too, explains the Sefas Emes, Bnei Yisrael had sinned and become corrupted by Greek ideology. Chanukah was a time of teshuvah. Bnei Yisrael rejected that ideology and returned to Torah. B'makom she'ba'alei teshuvah omdim afilu tzadikim gedolim einam yecholim la'amod. The Beis HaMikdash post-teshuvah is a different Beis haMikdash, a higher, more exalted Beis haMikdash, than the Beis haMikdash which had always been there from beforehand. That Mikdash needed to be dedicated.
The Rambam writes that Chanukah marks the restoration of the sovereignty of the Jewish people in Eretz Yisrael, at least temporarily. We cannot recite hallel on Purim because "akatei avdei Achashveirsh anan," we are still ruled by Achashveirosh, but we do recite full hallel on Chanukah. Sefas Emes elsewhere writes that the chanukas hamikdash was really a dedication of the mikdash of the future geulah, when we will once again rule Eretz Yisrael independently, have a Mikdash, and be immune from outside influences. Chanukah is a taste of the future.
We have a Yom Tov derabbanan, writes Sefas Emes, that corresponds with each one of the Yamim Yovim, the three regalim, of the Torah. On Shavuos we received the Torah, and so we have a holiday of Purim where "kiymu v'kiblu," we affirm that acceptance. We have Sukkos where we offer korbanos that correspond to the 70 nations, and on Chanukah, we light counting down according to Beis Shamai, to correspond to those korbanos (there are other links as well). Pesach is the holiday of redemption, and in the future we will one day have a holiday of redemption as well, a holiday to celebrate our freedom and our return to Eretz Yisrael (check your calendar in a little over four months : ).
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