shabbos chol hamoed leining -- angels are not good enough

On Shabbos Chol haMoed, both of Pesach and Sukkos, we lein from Parshas Ki Tisa beginning from Moshe's statement/complaint (33:12):

 רְאֵה אַתָּה אֹמֵר אֵלַי הַעַל אֶת הָעָם הַזֶּה וְאַתָּה לֹא הוֹדַעְתַּנִי אֵת אֲשֶׁר תִּשְׁלַח עִמִּי וְאַתָּה אָמַרְתָּ יְדַעְתִּיךָ בְשֵׁם וְגַם מָצָאתָ חֵן בְּעֵינָי

Moshe said to Hashem, "Listen, you said I should lead these people, but you haven't told me what help I have."

Rashi immediately asks that we do find that Moshe had been told (23:20) that Hashem would send an angel to guide Bnei Yisrael.  Why was Moshe saying that Hashem hadn't provided any guidance?  

Rashi answers that Moshe was not happy with being told that an angel would be sent.  That wasn't good enough.  Moshe was saying Hashem, "We want the real deal -- You need to lead us.  I need you to tell me that you are going to do that or we can't move forward."

The Tiferes Yosef quotes from the Ishbitza that these pesukim speak to us every Yom Tov.  Pesach and Sukkos always correspond with the change of seasons, which means a change of periods in our life.  The Yamim Tovim give us the spiritual energy to make that change and move to the next stage of our growth.  

Angels are described as "omdim," standing.  They don't grow; they are fixated in one spot.  On the one hand, this means an angel can never regress.  An angel cannot know failure or suffer disappointment.  On the other hand, it also means an angel can never become more than it already is at the moment of its creation.

So we have a Pesach (or a Sukkos), we gulp down that spiritual energy, we reach spiritual heights.  There are some people who think to themselves, "Wow, I wish I could hold on to this forever."  But that attitude is a mistake.  We need the leining to remind us to reject the temptation of the malach, of "omdim."  Like Moshe Rabeinu, we need to turn to Hashem and say,  "וְאַתָּה אָמַרְתָּ יְדַעְתִּיךָ בְשֵׁם," as much as we gained from Yom Tov (so far) we want even more, we are never satisfied, we want to connect to Ain Sof with no limits.  

the real answer to the ben rasha

 I have not really started to look at the haggadah, but a thought occurred to me regarding the response to the ben rasha.  First of all, what difference does it make to him, “Ilu haya sham, lo haya nigal?”  What does he care what might have been – what was was; bottom line he and we are here today.  Second of all, given that we are accusing him of being a kofer, what kind of threat it is to say that had he been there he would not have merited geulah – a kofer doesn’t believe in a miraculous geulah to begin with!  To him it’s an empty threat.  B’pashtus one could say that we are not answering the rasha at all, but simply declaring the truth for our own benefit, but then what’s the “hakheh es shinav” all about?

I think we are answering the rasha.  The rasha is the guy who goes around asking questions that sound cool and are intellectually fashionable to ask.  He is cutting edge in his thinking, meaning he mimics the latest trends among those who pose as thinkers and he parrots their slogans.  Rasha, we see right through you.  You are trying so hard to quash your neshoma, but you can’t win.  My wife recently heard R’ Y. Y. Jacobson speak and he told a story of a man who called him who had done everything he could to distance himself from yahadut, but he was still convinced that he had not done enough.  So he called R’ Jacobson and asked whether there some ritual he could do that would really permanently sever his ties with the Jewish people.  As R’ Jacobson pointed out, the man obviously didn’t see the irony in his calling a Rabbi that practices a religion he doesn’t believe in to ask for a ritual he doesn’t believe in to cut himself off from a people he doesn’t associate with.  That’s our rasha.  Even amidst his disbelief, he can’t help but reveal the truth – he does believe.  And maybe that’s why there is so little difference between the question of the rasha and that of the chacham.  For all his posing and posturing, the rasha still speaks the language of amcha, of a chacham.  “Ba’avur zeh asah Hashem li” means that geulah is addressed to each of us individually, and therefore, if someone’s neshoma is here today and was not cut off at its root in Mitzrayim (and really, how many new neshomos are there?  Most probably this is just a recycled neshoma that had been in Mitzrayim with the rest of Klal Yisrael), there must be some redeeming quality that it has and some role for it to play in advancing Klal Yisrael (Why do I sound like I am channeling Gandalf the Grey talking about Gollum?)   "Li v'lo lo" means the geulah is not for the pretend "lo," the alter-ego of evil. “Ilu haya sham,” if that neshoma really was where it tries to pretend it is, in those unholy places, then it wouldn’t be sitting with us at a seder asking silly questions.  “Ilu haya sham,” as we once explained before, the word “sham” is the same root/idea as “shemama,” destruction (“Sham yashavnu gam bachinu…,” also think of Yosef in the pit, “Vayehi sham b’beis ha’sohar) – if that neshoma indeed was destroyed, desolate, as lost as it pretends to be, “lo haya nigal,” it would never have experienced the geulah that it obviously did at some point otherwise what would it be doing here?  That’s the “hakeh es shinav.”  What drives the rasha crazy is not threats, not condemnations, not telling him that he is lost, but rather just the opposite – telling him that as much as he tries, he can never really lose himself as much as he wants.  Lo yidach m’menu nidach.

It's derush, but so what?  There can be truth to it anyway.

Have a great Pesach!

issur melacha on erev Pesach

There is just too much to do to even think of writing anything meaningful before Y”T.  Who has time to even go over the basic halachos well?  So please excuse whatever errors you find here.

There is a machlokes Mordechai and Rokeach whether there is an issur of amira l’aku”m in having melacha done on erev Pesach. I saw the Aruch haShulchan (468:2) suggests that the nekudas hamachkokes is whether the issur melacha is derabbanan, in which case amira l’aku”m is not an issue, or whether it's a d’oraysa (as the Yerushalmi seems to hold).  I thought one could explain it a bit differently.  Maybe it’s not the chomer ha’issur – whether it's d’oraysa or derabbanan – which is the issue, but rather it’s the geder ha’issur.  The gemara (BM 92) has a safeik whether there is an issur of amira l’aku”m only on Shabbos or by other issurim as well, and I believe we pasken l’kula.  Yesh lachkor whether the issur melacha on erev Pesach is just an issur gavra like any other issur, or whether the issur stems from a certain kedushas hayom that the day has, like Shabbos?  If the issur is like any other issur, then there should be no problem of amira l’aku”m.  However, if erev Pesach has a keduashas hayom, then perhaps amira l’aku”m applies as well.

The din is that when shiva ends on an erev Y”T, the upcoming Y”T cancels the upcoming period of shloshim and one can do laundry and bathe and take a haircut even on erev Y”T.  Rama adds that this kula applies “samuch l’chasheicha,” only close to nightfall, except on erev Pesach where it applies from chatzos.  Why the difference?  The GR”A explains that erev Pesach itself is called a moed.  To some extend erev Pesach itself has a certain status as a holiday.

The Aruch haShulchan himself adds in parenthesis that the Rokeach writes that amira l’aku”m only applies on Shabbos, Y”T, and chol ha’moed.  It seems to me that the point is not that the issurei melacha on these days is d’oraysa (which at least with respect to chol ha’moed is debatable), but rather the point is that these days all have a certain kedushas ha’yom.  According to the Rokeach, that ingredient is absent on erev Pesach; according to the Mordechai, it's there.

My son had two arguments: 1) L’shitasi, the Rama in hil aveilus that says erev Pesach does have a special status is against the halacha here where l’ma’aseh we pasken that there is no issur of amira l’aku”m.  I don’t think this question gets off the ground.  Just because the Rama accepted the fact that the kedushas hayom is enough to push off shloshim does not automatically mean he has to accept that there is enough of a kedushas ha’yom to create an issur melacha.  Even among days that share the common denominator of having a kedushas ha’yom, e.g. Shabbos, Yom Tov and chol ha’moed, there are gradations as what that kedusha implies, what nafka minos it carries with it.  For example, there may be a common requirement of simcha in all of those days, but there are clear differences in terms of the level of issur melacha.  2) The gem in B”M sets up the safeik of whether amira l’aku”m applies to other issurim as a question of whether we compare those issurim to Shabbos, which is an issur sekila, or not.  It sounds like the issue has nothing to do with kedushas ha’yom and everything to do with measuring the chomer ha’issur.  This is a stronger argument than the previous point, but I’m always less bothered by the lason hagemara than my son is.  I don’t see any problem in saying that the question of whether amira l’aku”m is a function of having a kedushas ha’yom or simply chomer ha’isur is itself part and parcel of the tzedadim of the safeik.

the hidden spirit of the akeidah

The Torah tells us that a korban olah of a cow must be shechted "lifnei Hashem," but then a few pesukim later tells us that sheep must be shechted "tzafona fifnei Hashem" (1:11) Why the addition of the extra word "tzafona?"  The Midrash writes:  

When Avraham did the akeidah of Yitzchak, Hashem prepared two sheep offering [one in place of Yitzchak, one in place of the ram actually offered], one for the morning, one for the afternoon.  Why did he do this?   So that when the Jewish  people offer the korban tamid and read this parsha of “tzafona lifnei Hashem” Hashem will remember akeidas Yitzchak.  “I testify by heaven and earth that whether goy or yisrael, whether man or woman, whether eved or maid, whoever reads this parsha of ‘tzafona lifnei Hashem,’ Hashem will remember akeidas Yitzchak…”

Why is it the word “tzafona” in particular that is a reminder of the akeidah?  Sefas Emes explains that in addition to “north,” the word “tzafon” also means hidden (there are a number of explanations as to how these two meanings are related, but they all strike me as speculative).  Akeidas Yitzchak didn’t happen once and then become past history – the power of mesirus nefesh of the akeidah lives on hidden inside each one of us.  When a person brings a korban he is in fact re-enacting in a small way the akeidas Yitzchak; he should feel that he is offering his entire self to Hashem but Hashem in his mercy chooses to accept a sheep as a substitute.  The memory of the akeidah lives on through korbanos because through the korbanos we demonstrate that we embody within that spirit of the akeidah. 

a lesson in humility

The Ba'al haTurim explains that the world "VaYikra" is written with a little aleph because Moshe Rabeinu in his humility wanted to leave out that letter and write "VaYikar," as if Hashem just appeared to him by chance.  Hashem overruled him, so to speak, and the letter remains, but Moshe's modesty is acknowledged by its being a small letter.

Last post we discussed R' Akiva's ability to squeeze derashos and halachos out of every dot in Torah sheb'ksav. Even the crowns on top of the letters contain deep meaning.  If so, imagine the wealth of Torah that might have been lost had an entire letter -- the letter aleph -- been omitted from the Torah!  How could Moshe have thought to leave it out?

R' Shach (Rosh Amanah) answers that Moshe Rabeinu weighed that wealth of Torah against the lesson in humility that could be learned from his leaving out the letter and Moshe must have concluded that the lesson of humility is the more important one.  

every moment counts

I can’t remember how it came up, but this past Shabbos my wife mentioned something about the Midrash that tells the story of R’ Akiva’s audience falling asleep in the middle of his derasha.  R’ Akiva woke them up with a question: Why is it that Esther ruled over 127 provinces?  Because Sarah Imeinu lived 127 years.  Meforshim explain that R’ Akiva was making the point that if every year of Sarah’s life added a country to Esther’s kingdom, by that token every month added a province, every day a city, every minute a street, etc.  Avraham and Sarah were “ba’im ba’yamim,” they were able to bring every day of their lives to the table and show accomplishment.  Their avodah was like daf yomi – never miss a day, never miss a daf.  Esther was able to reap the rewards of that consistency.  Think of what would have been lost if Sarah would have wasted even a few minutes of precious time!  So falling asleep in the middle of a derasha and missing even a few moments of Torah is not a good idea.

I don’t think it’s coincidence that R’ Akiva is the one to make this point.  The Yismach Moshe (in P’ Beshalach and P’ VaYakhel) writes that R’ Akiva glorified Torah sheb’ksav (this is probably a shock to those of you who learn R’ Tzadok and are used to R’ Akiva being portrayed as the personification of Torah sheb’al peh).  The gemara (Menachos 29) tells us that R’ Akiva was able to darshen even the tagim on the tops of letters– every mark in Torah sheb’ksav, evey drop of ink on the parchment, R’ Akiva squeezed meaning out of.   Everything in halacha has its roots in the written word.  The irony of that gemara is that Moshe Rabeinu, the deliverer of Torah sheb’ksav to us, witnesses the genius of R’ Akiva and is comforted only by the fact that R’ Akiva is reduced finally to acknowledging something as a halacha l’Moshe m’Sinai, a law that has no textual basis.  Moshe Rabeinu was jealous because R’ Akiva was beating him at his own game – torah sheb’ksav!  We all know that a sefer Torah that is missing even a single letter is pasul.  You can’t write a sentence here, a sentence there, jump around, leave blanks, etc. – a sefer must be written letter by letter, word by word, from beginning to end.  Sarah Imeinu was a living sefer Torah.  A lost moment in her life would be just like a tag missing on top of a letter.  Who better than R’ Akiva, a man capable of darshening every dot, to warn us of the catastrophic danger of such a circumstance?

This is all past history, however, as the avodah of Nisan and Pesach is completely different.  Pesach is about dilug, jumping.  So you missed Brachos and Shabbos and already have missed a few blatt of Eiruvin – so what?  Jump in!  Klal Yisrael is at the lowest of low points of ruchniyus, the spiritual life has been squeezed out of them by Mitzrayim – so what?  In a second they are pulled to the heights of geulah. 

Parshas haChodesh is really a very strange name for the maftir of this past Shabbos, as there are maybe 2 or 3 pesukim that talk about the mitzvah of declaring rosh chodesh and the entire rest of the parsha focused on the laws of korban pesach.  Why don’t we call it parshas hapesach?  Why do we even mix in the laws of rosh chodesh here?  Shem m’Shmuel answers that the Torah is introducing a shift in perspective.  When your avodah is “ba ba’yamim,” to make every day and every moment count, it means time is your master; every moment demands attention.   The message of parshas hachodesh is aderaba, you are the master over time.  “Hachodesh hazeh lachem” – time is yours.  That is not to say you should go ahead and waste it – time is a valuable resource!  But it’s not an irreplaceable commodity.  You *can* make up for lost time.  If not for that ability to leap forward over missed deadlines and lost opportunities, to start afresh from this moment, a korban pesach and a chag hapesach would be impossible.

Ksav Sofer: VaYakhel - Pekudei (2)

“Vayavo’u kol hachachamim ha’osim es kol mileches hakodesh ish ish m’milachto… marbim ha’am l’havi…” (34:4-5).  A skilled craftsman has to be able to estimate the quantity of materials needed to do a job before he begins.  Here, the Torah tells us that the craftsmen making the Mishkan came from their work, seemingly in the middle of the job, and told Moshe that the people had brought more than enough.  Why didn’t they realize they had too much material before they began? 

The Ksav Sofer answers by being medayek in the Torah‘s description of the craftsmen given a few pesukim earlier: “V’kol ish chacham lev… asher nasan Hashem chochma u’tevunah ba’heima la’da’as la’asos es kol mileches hakodesh l’kol asher tzivah Hashem” (34:1).  A carpenter, jeweler, or craftsman is blessed by Hashem with certain skills, but these craftsmen could just as well use their skills to build a house, make a fine piece of jewelry, or fashion a beautiful piece of furniture as to make a Mishkan.  The Torah here is not speaking about such people.  It is talking about people who were blessed specifically with ability to do, “…mileches hakodesh l’kol asher tzivah Hashem,” the work of making a Mishkan – they could not use those skills and ability in any other area!  These were not craftsmen or professionals who came to the job already in possession of  certain skill set – these were people who came with no prior experience or training, with nothing more than their desire to help.  Hashem blessed these people with a special bracha that enabled them to translate that desire into “mileches hakodesh” even if they had never done such work before. 

The Midrash comments that the word “ba’heima” has the same letters as “beheima,” animal, hinting that Hashem even endowed animals with intelligence to help in the building of the Mishkan.  Perhaps the Midrash is not meant to be taken literally, but is meant to emphasize that the skills used in building the Mishkan were a bracha given by Hashem in this special circumstance to even those born with two left hands, those who otherwise had no innate abilities and were no more skilled than animals.

It’s no wonder that these people did not realize in advance whether they had enough or too much material to do the work needed.  They were literally learning (or being blessed with the knowledge needed) on the job as they did their work. 

This idea is a klal gadol in accomplishing in Torah and avodah.  “What do you want from me? – I don’t have the ability to do that,” is an easy excuse to avoid trying to rise to the next level of learning, of avodah, of making the effort to accomplish tzorchei tzibur.  We assume the lamdan was born with genius, the ba’al avodah was born with great ability to concentrate in davening, the person who is a ba’al tzedoka or chessed always had that drive.  But that’s not the case.  What these people had more than anyone else is desire.  If that ingredient is in place, even if we lack ability, Hashem will provide the skills and knowledge it takes, “la’asos es kol mileches hakodesh.”

This same theme is echoed in the closing of Parshas Pekudei.  Rashi (39:33) writes that because Moshe did not have any job to do in building the Mishkan, Hashem left him with the final task of erecting the structure once it was completed.  The boards and beams were too heavy to be lifted into place and the people were stuck.  Hashem told Moshe that this was his personal task to accomplish.  Moshe asked, “But how can I alone lift the boards?”  Hashem answered that he just needed to make the effort; the rest will be accomplished by a miracle. 

“K’chol asherh tzivah Hashem es Moshe kein asu Bnei Yisrael es kol  ha’avodah” (39:42).  Just as Hashem commanded Moshe – just as Hashem told Moshe that all he needed was to make an effort and Hashem would do the rest – so too with respect to the work of Bnei Yisrael.  It was not the skill of the craftsman or the architects and engineers that ensured the success of the building, as even those with no skills or experience were free to participate.  It was Hashem’s miraculous bracha.  The overt miracle of the raising of the boards was the sign that even the success of the little details was the result of miraculous intervention as well.   

Ksav Sofer on VaYakhel (1)

A few Ksav Sofers this week:

1) Rashi explains that the word “al” in the pasuk, “Vayavo’u ha’anashim al ha’nashim,” (35:22) means alongside.  When the women came to donate to the Mishkan, their husbands came with them.  Ksav Sofer quotes the halacha that “mah she’kansa isha kanah ba’alah,” whatever property a woman acquires belongs to her husband (unless a special stipulation is made.)  Technically speaking women had no right to give away property or money to the Mishkan because they did not own what they were giving.  Nonetheless, their husbands respected that desire to give, and so they came with their wives and showed their support and acquiescence to their wives’ donations and participation.  I would suggest that the Torah is teaching us that building G-d’s house, his Mishkan, demands first building shalom bayis in your own home.  The support of the husbands for their wives's avodah and vice versa is the foundation of that shalom.

2) The pasuk starts by telling us “Kol ish v’isha asher nadav libam osam l’havi…,” that every man and women who was so moved brought donations for the Mishkan, and then ends, “…havi’u Bnei Yisrael nedava l’Hashem,” that Bnei Yisrael brought donations for Hashem (35:29).  There seems to be a redundancy here, as saying all the men and women gave donations and saying Bnei Yisrael gave donations amounts to the same thing.  Ksav Sofer again returns to the point that not everyone had assets to give.  Children who are minors do not halachically have ownership rights and therefore could not donate.  These children's parents still very much wanted them to have a share in this great mitzvah of making a Mishkan.  Therefore, instead of bringing their gifts themselves, the parents sent it with their children.  “Bnei Yisrael” in the pasuk is not a proper noun, i.e. the Children of Israel, but rather is a common noun, i.e. the children, meaning the minors.  Every “ish v’isha,” man and woman, donated, but it was “bnei Yisrael,” the children, who actually brought the gifts to Moshe.  We've all seen parents who give their children coins to put in the pushka when it is brought around in shul.  I wonder if this minhag yisrael has its roots in this pasuk.  Children learn by doing, and it’s the delivery of those coins at a young age that inculcates in children the midah of chessed forever.

Moshe's question of "tzadik v'tov lo"

The gemara (Brachos 7) writes that when Moshe realized it was a sha’as rachamim, he made three requests of Hashem, one of which was that Hashem should explain why “tzadik v’tov lo, tzadik v’ra lo, rasha v’tov lo, rasha v’ra lo.”  Why is it that there are righteous people who have it good and others who suffer; why is it that there are wicked people who have it good and others who suffer? 

The gemara quotes a machlokes Tana’im whether Hashem acceded to this request or not.  The Tana Kamma holds that Moshe was answered by Hashem.  “V’chanosi es asher achon,” (33:19) is the response -- Hashem rewards those who deserve reward.  The tzadik who has it good is a tzadik gamur who deserves it; the tzadik who suffers is a tzadik who is not completely up to snuff.  The rasha who suffers is a rasha who is completely wicked and deserves punishment; the rasha who has it good is a rasha who is not completely bad. 

The Chofetz Chaim (al haTorah) uses a mashal to explain why this is so hard for us to understand.  A guest who is visiting a shul notices that the gabai seems to favor one half of the room, choosing most of the people who get aliyos and kibudim from a particular section.  After davening the guest goes over to the gabai to complain about the obvious bias that perhaps only he as an outsider sees.  “Silly man,” says the gabai, “Had you been here last week you would have seen that the people in the other half of the shul got more aliyos, and so this week I had to balance things out.”  If a person can misunderstand a little thing like the distribution of aliyos based on a mistaken inference, kal v’chomer a person cannot hope to understand the workings of schar v’onesh in the universe based on his inferences from a limited sample of 70 years in this world.

R’ Meir disagrees and holds Hashem did not answer Moshe’s question.  The pasuk, “V’chanosi es asher achon,” means that Hashem will reward even those who do not deserve it. 

R’ Elimelech m’Lizensk, whose yahrzeit was yesterday, explains that the machlokes here is not about how to read the pasuk (see Maharasha) -- even R’ Meir agrees that the pashut pshat is like the Tana Kamma’s reading, that Hashem will reward and favor those who deserve favor and reward.  R’ Meir, however, holds that when Hashem gives a tzadik chein, it’s not for the tzadik’s personal benefit alone.  A tzadik is a conduit to bring bracha into the world; there is a trickle down effect.   By rewarding the tzadik, Hashem ends up bringing bracha even to those who don’t deserve it on their own merits.  The net result is that everyone benefits.  (You can make the connection to R’ Elimelech himself and understand why I quote this torah in particular on his yahrzeit.)

Now that we’ve seen the gemara’s answer, let’s go back and take a better look at  the question.  Moshe’s seems to raising the classic question of theodicy – why do the righteous suffer and the wicker prosper?  But if that alone was what troubled him, then the gemara should refer only to “tzadik v’ra lo… rasha v’tov lo.”  Why does the gemara include in the question “tzadik v’tov lo… rasha v’ra lo,” the fact that there are righteous people who get their reward and wicked who suffer?  This is as things should be – there is no mystery about that part of the equation, is there?

The Mahari”l Diskin reminds us that there is another gemara (Moed Katan 28) that “banei, chayei, u’mezonei lav b’zechusa talya elah b’mazla.”  There is a power to what the gemara calls “mazal,” what we might call genetic makeup, personality, environment.  These form the frame or context within which a person receives his schar v’onesh.  A poor person might be blessed and move up to the middle class; the second string player may find himself in the starting lineup; however, it’s extremely unlikely that the pauper will suddenly become a millionaire, or that a person who is 5’ 2” will suddenly be drafted by the NBA.  That’s what bothered Moshe.  Rare though it may be, there are cases that are the exceptions to the rule.  There are poor people who suddenly become rich overnight and players like Moggsy Bogues who make it big despite a lack of height.  There are tzadikim who receive reward that completely defies the norms of nature – and then there are the vast majority who do not.  Moshe was as mystified by the phenomenon of “tzadik v’tov lo” despite the effects of mazal as he was at there being a “tzadik v’ra lo.”  How does the system work? 

The gemara answers that we have to distinguish between the “tzadik gamur” and the “tzadik she’aino gamur.”  The tzadik gamur who is completely righteous rises above his natural proclivities, and is in turn rewarded outside the normal teva/mazal boundaries (genetic, socio-economic, etc.) of nature.  A tzadik who does good to the extent his natural talents allow for but does not push the envelope in turn is rewarded only to the degree that mazal allows.  (The inverse holds true for the rasha.)

There seems, however, to be an exception to the rule that does not fit the gemara’s answer.  Hashem promises, “B’chanuni nah b’zos,” (Malachi 3:10) that we can test him in one area: if a person gives tzedaka, Hashem promises to reward the person with wealth, “V’harikosei lachem b’racha ad b’li dai.”  The Navi tells us that if you give tzedaka, you can max out the credit card, because the lottery or the dividend check or the tax refund is guaranteed.  But what about mazal?  If you have no head for business, if your investments fail, if your job never pays a bonus, how can you expect the supernatural to happen in defiance of your nature just because you gave tzedaka?  Isn’t it only for the tzadik gamur who is a oveid Hashem in a superlative way that superlative things happen for?

The Mahari”l Diskin answers by quoting a Rambam in Shmoneh Perakim.  Chazal tell us that a person should not say, for example, that  pork is repulsive, but rather should say that it probably tastes good, just we can’t eat it.  When you see the advertisement for a Big Mac, there is nothing wrong with your mouth watering – you just have to stop yourself from eating it.  The Rambam adds a caveat: this rule is true only when speaking about mitzvos that defy rational explanation.  However, when we are speaking about immoral behavior, the whole point of the mitzvah is to feel repulsion.  A person should not walk around wanting to steal or murder but say that he can’t do it because the mitzvah prevents him – a moral, decent person does not feel the desire to begin with.

With this in mind we can explain why the reward for tzedaka is guaranteed.  When it comes to mitzvos like kashrus, where the normal, expected reaction is to have a desire for that Big Mac, the reward is for going  beyond what is normal and avoiding giving in to temptation.  The tzadik gamur merits a reward outside the constraints of mazal because his actions are outside what is "normal" human behavior.  However, when it comes to mitzvos like tzedaka, the behavior the Torah expects is the norm of how a decent person should act.  Therefore, the reward too is built into the teva and is accessible to everyone.

The gemara is amazingly meduyak when it tells is that someone who gives tzedaka even for an ulterior motive, "al menas she'yichyeh b'ni," is considered a "tzadik gamur" (Pesachim 10).  Just as the tzadik gamur receives reward that transcends mazal, in the case of tzedaka a normal person acting for his own benefit can still reap that same reward.

sweet dreams

The Ksav Sofer in the previous post suggests that we have become so acclimated to our situation in galus that we no longer even hope and pray for change.  I did not want to mix my own thoughts into his beautiful derasha, so I will just tack them on here.  The gemara (Chagiga 5b) tells us:  

"V'Anochi haster astir panay ba'yom ha'hu" -- Rava said, "Hashem said, 'Even though my face is hidden from them, I still speak to them in dreams.'"  (Rashi: Only "bayom," during the day, am I hidden, but not at night, the time of dreams.  See Maharash"a for another explanation.)

What the gemara suggests to me is that even if the grim reality of day to day life obscures G-d, there always remains in our dreams the hope for a better and brighter future.  It is in those hopes and dreams that G-d's presence is felt and remains very much alive.

The sad thing about growing older is that our dreams and hopes become so small.  Ask a little kid what he wants to be when he grows up and he will tell you with a straight face that he wants to play shortstop for the New York Yankees (that is, until you start training him to say he wants to be a big tzadik.)  As that kid grows up, he becomes what we call "realistic," i.e. he turns off that dream.  Ask a middle age guy what he dreams of and he will tell you that he wants an easy day at work tomorrow and maybe a nicer car or a bigger house or something like that.  If he's really imaginative he will tell you he wants to stop working all together and do who knows what.  Doesn't even come close to dreaming about playing at the House that Ruth built.  That's what the Ksav Sofer was so worried about -- our dreams becoming smaller.  Our robbing ourselves of the one sliver of life where Hashem still openly reveals himself.  

Fortunately, at least as a nation, I don't think we've forgotten how to dream.  For 2000 years we faced the darkest reality of hester panim, but in our hearts we continued to yearn for and dream of a return to Eretz Yisrael.  "B'shuv Hashem es shivas Tzion, ha'yinu k'cholmim," the hester panim is finally lifting and what seemed like only a dream is becoming  reality.

the suffering that only Hashem sees

The Ksav Sofer quotes a Midrash (Devarim Rabbah 4) that teaches that Moshe asked Hashem that when He sees his children suffering, even if no one is crying out for His mercy, He should still respond.  There are two questions that beg asking: 1) Why the circumlocution of “when **you see** your children suffering” – why not say directly, “when the Jewish people **are** suffering?”  2) How could there be a situation of suffering with no one asking Hashem for mercy – is it conceivable that Klal Yisrael will be in trouble and no one will turn to Hashem in tefilah?!

No matter how bad things get, there is a process of accommodation and acculturation that occurs and people get used to it.  We say in Eicah and kinos, “Zechor Hashem meh haya lanu,” Hashem, remember what we had.  The Midrash comments that we ask Hashem to remember because we are prone to forget.  Can you imagine the river of tears that must have been spilled after the first Tisha b’Av?  No matter how much we try to absorb the meaning of what it means to live in galus, it’s just not the same feeling 2000 years later.  We've gotten used to the state of churban and we've forgotten.  But for Hashem, it’s like it just happened – he never forgets, he never gets used to it.  The pain is just as real for Him now as it was for us on that first day of exile.

“Samcheinu k’ymos inisanu, k’shnos ra’inu ra’ah”(Tehillim (90:15) – we want to be gladdened one day just as we now experience days of suffering.  Certainly the plain meaning of the pasuk is that our joy of geulah should be proportional (either quantitatively or qualitatively) to the sadness which we experienc in galus.  But the Ksav Sofer adds another dimension: the pasuk means that our joy should not be the joy of overcoming galus as we see perceive it now, after we have gotten used to it.  What's the big simcha in that?  Our joy should be the joy of overcoming galus, “k’ymos inisanu,” when we still felt the pain and it bothered us.

This is what the Midrash means when it refers to the suffering “which Hashem sees.”  Our senses are dulled, our collective communal memory is hazy, and we no longer even feel the loss of the glory of Knesses Yisrael.   We have grown used to things as they are; we don't see the tragedy of our own plight.  Hashem, however,  still sees just how badly we have fallen.  Hashem will respond even if we are so blinded to our condition that we do not even know enough to daven for our own relief.  

The Midrash writes that when we return to Eretz Yisrael we will shed tears like on the day the brothers re-united with Yosef.  When the brothers first realized the full import of what they had done, they mourned.  Undoubtedly, they wanted their brother back and felt tortuous pain at his loss.  But after 22 years, was that pain still the same; was it even there at all?  It was only when Yosef revealed himself that suddenly those memories came flooding back and the brothers once again cried, reliving and realizing their sorrow even as they experienced its amelioration.  When we return to Eretz Yisrael it will be with similar tears, as our senses re-awaken to all the forgotten pains and sorrow of galus, even as those very pains are wiped away in the joy of geulah.

the drop of ink left in the quill

According to one view in Chazal the “karnei hod” which emanated from Moshe’s face came from the bit of ink left on the quill after he finished transcribing the Torah.  Ksav Sofer beautifully explains that what Chazal are telling us is that not everything in Torah is or can be contained in the text.  There are secrets that were never set down in writing – the leftover ink that never made it onto paper – that Moshe, who learned Toras Hashem directly, was privy too.  Moshe covered his shining face with a mask, meaning he hid these secrets behind a veil, so that only those who would put in the time and effort to dig deeper would discover them.

The point the Ksav Sofer is making applies not just to mysterious “sisrei Torah,” but to Torah law in general.  The thinking of a talmid chacham cannot always (can it ever?) be reduced to a series of logical steps or a precise formula that can be mapped out on paper – one does not take a corpus of texts, add deductive or inductive logic, and poof, generate an answer.  Feel for a text’s nuance, for whether an interpretation is too narrow or too broad, for how rules apply to a given situation etc. is something that a seasoned scholar feels in his kishkes, for lack of a better term.  What constitutes sound, informed judgment it is not something that can be transmitted through writing, but must come from the experience of a lifetime of immersion in Torah study.  That is the drop of ink left on the quill after all that can be written has been.

why no bracha on the mitzvah of zechiras Amalek?

Why is there is no bracha on the mitzvah of zechiras Amalek?  Shu”T l’Horos Noson (5:47)  suggests that the whole purpose of a bracha is to elicit the kavanah that the act being done is l’shem mitzvah.  For example, there is nothing inherent in a 4 cornered garment with fringes that suggests it is being worn for a religious purpose – maybe you like the style or that’s the only shirt you have.  Therefore, the mitzvah of tzitzis requires a bracha to remind you of its purpose.  The mitzvah of zechiras Amalek, however, is different.  The very nature of the mitzvah is to remember that there is a command of mechiyas Amalek.  You don’t need a bracha to remind you that the act you are about to do is a mitzvah – the very words that you are reading make that point clear.  The same logic explains why there is no bracha on the mitzvah of kri’as shema.  You say the words “v’dibarta bam” as part of the mitzvah – you don’t need an external reminder.  I was wondering if you could use the same to explain why there is no bracha over the mitzvah of haggadah, but  on second thought there is a difference – the haggadah does not explicitly mention the text to read.  If you never said the pasuk, “V’higadta l’bincha,” I don’t see why m’doraysa you might not be yotzei the mitzvah.  

(In addition to the reasoning advanced by the L'Horos Noson, one could argue that it is not proper to say a bracha on the downfall of one's enemies, an idea he discusses in the teshuvah.  One could perhaps also argue that the birchas haTorah of parshas zachor also serves as the bracha on the mitzvah of zechiras Amalek, as we fulfill the mitzvah by reading a parsha.   And I am sure this is just the tip of the iceberg.)

are kohanim commanded in mechiyas Amalek?

The Sefer haChinuch (603) opines that women are exempt from the mitzvah of zechiras Amalek because they are not participants in war and do not to go out to battle; since they would not wage war against Amalek, they are exempt from the mitzvah of zechira as well.  The assumption (which the Minchas Chinuch questions) of the Chinuch is that the mitzvah of zecher and the mitzvah of mechiyas Amalek go hand in hand.

R’ Wahrman in his Sheiris Yosef (vol 7) refers to a fascinating teshuvah of the Binyan Shlomo (#57) who suggests that kohanim did not go out to battle either, as they could not risk becoming tamei meis; therefore, they too were exempt from the mitzvah of waging war with Amalek.  The Binyan Shlomo writes that if this is true, kohanim should be exempt from ta’anis Esther, as according to Rabineu Tam the ta'anis is a commemoration of the fast undertaken  on 13Adar in preparation for the war against Amalek.  Since kohanim did not participate in battle, they would not have participated in the fast.  (I am not sure why this follows – perhaps there is a chiyuv to join with the tzibur in doing teshuvah and fasting to ensure success in battle even if one does not participate directly in the fighting.)  It follows as well that according to the logic of the Chinuch, kohanim should be exempt from the mitzvah of hearing parshas zachor.

The gemara's question of whether a kohein can take a yefas to’ar (Kiddushin 23) implies that kohanim did in fact go to battle, contrary to the Binyan Shlomo, but there does seem to be some basis in Rishonim for his view.  In the context of debating whether a kohein who gives a get al tnai may remain together with his wife, the Mordechai (Gittin 432) attempts to bring proof from the fact that all who went out to war with King David wrote gittin (al tnai, lest they be lost in war), presumably including kohanim, who returned afterwards to their wives.  The Mordechai is not convinced of the proof, as one could argue that kohanim never went out to war to begin with (he raises the sugya in Kid as an issue, but how he deals with it is unclear to me.)  Anyone in tune with the current debate over whether yeshiva students should server in Tzahal has probably heard the oft-cited Rambam (end of Hil Shemita) that anyone who wants can take on the role of a levi as teacher to Torah and become exempt from the burden of going out to war.  Whether the Rambam’s view can serve as a basis for yeshiva student levi-wanna-be’s being exempted may be debatable, but it seems clear that a true kohen or levi could indeed stay home.  Or maybe it’s not so clear: the Rambam himself (Hil Melachim ch 7) refers to a kohein married to a gerusha as being exempted from battle because of the aveira he has done, implying that a kohein otherwise would in fact have to join the fight.

if you need writing/editing help

My wife's new site here.
If you are in the market for a writer or editing help (no, she does not edit my posts -- my bad writing is mine alone) please feel free to contact her.

the larger picture

V’asu li mikdash… k’chol asher ani mareh oscha... v’chain ta’asu (Shmos 25:8-9)

Rashi writes “v’chein ta’asu” is a mitzvah l’doros to make the klei hamikdash (when needed) exactly as made during the building of the Mishkan.  Ramban disagrees and proves that this is not a mitzvah l’doros from the fact that the mizbeiach built by Shlomo did not have the same dimensions as that built by Moshe.  The simple answer in defense of Rashi is that although the size of the mizbeiach may not have been the same, its essential features were.  Shiur is a measure of the amount of something that there is; it’s not the essence of what the thing is.  Maharal suggests that Rashi may have been referring to the kli hamikdash in particular, meaning those items that were portable.  The mizbeiach was connected to the ground, to the building of Mikdash/Mishkan, and was therefore different than a normal kli.

The Tiferes Shlomo has a beautiful answer.  The Radomsker writes that “v’chein ta’asu” is not talking about the physical making of the kelim, but rather is talking about the “k’chol asher ani mareh oscha.”  Moshe did not just make kelim the way he thought fit – he had a vision of what the Mikdash should look like and made kelim to fit that ideal.  The mitzvah l’doros is similarly to make kelim not according to one’s own standards or needs, but according to the vision that Hashem shows of what a Mishkan or Mikdash should be.  Every generation has its Moshe who is privy to that vision and can direct the work accordingly. 

I don’t think the Radomsker is telling us a din in the mitzvah of building Mikdash; I think he’s telling us a general din about life.  You can’t build unless you have vision.  The nitty-gritty of how-to can only be addressed if one starts with an image of the ideal one would like to achieve.  And it’s true that the end product many times will not match and it’s true that how to meet that ideal will not always be simple or clear.  “Nitkashe Moshe” is part of the process.  But without an overarching philosophy and dream to guide them, piecemeal solutions will ultimately never have any coherence or direction.

L’havdil, to take an example from the outside world, when JFK made his famous speech challenging the county to land a man on the moon within a decade, he didn’t specify whether to use rocket X or Y or how to build a lunar lander.  He pointed the space program in the direction he wanted it to go, gave his bracha and got funding, and left the details to the engineers.  He trusted that the how-to would eventually work itself out; his job was to get people dreaming and aspiring to achieve a goal. 

It seems to me that our leaders these days are experts in nitty-gritty detail, but short on vision.  We hear a lot these days about what not to read and what not to do and how not to dress and not act etc.  We hear about who to vote for to get the most benefit to yeshivos and avoid yeshiva bachurim from serving in Tzahal.  What we don't hear is an overarching vision of how to bring together the various factions in society in a way that balances the needs of a modern state with the religious needs of our community.  If you don't accept the philosophy of Rav Kook or Mizrachi, what is the answer -- how do you think we can achieve that goal?  I am more than willing to acknowledge that it may be my ignorance; maybe I am just not reading the right books so I'm not getting the message.  How we are going to have doctors, pay bills, keep our yeshivos running if the only path in life that is approved is klei kodesh?  I exaggerate, but you can think of your own examples so I won’t belabor the point.  I don't see the vision; I don't see how the particulars add up to make a strong Torah society of diverse personalities that fill different rolls and can contend with economic, political, ideological, and existential challenges in the modern world. 

We need to start with “k’chol asher ani mareh oscha,” with the larger vision.  We need Moshe's that see that vision and can guide us to make the kelim that match that ideal.

when kavanah alone is enough

Ramban comments based on Midrash that the reason the Torah uses the term “v’asu es ha’aron,” in the plural even though the rest of the commands to build the Mishkan (and the aron as well) are in the singular is because each and every member of Klal  Yisrael participated in the building of the aron.  The symbolic message is obvious: each and every member of Klal Yisrael has some portion in Torah. 

On a practical level, how exactly did everyone participate – what did they do?  Ramban gives three possibilities: 1) They donated gold that was designated specifically for use in the aron; 2) They helped in the physical crafting of the aron; 3) They had kavanah.

It’s the third option that caught my attention.  How exactly does kavanah count as participation?  It sounds just like what managers do where I work – You guys bring the gold, you guys do the work, and I’ll stand here and supervise by thinking deep thoughts of kavanah.  If the aron is the symbol of Torah, I’m even more perplexed.  There are people who contribute to Torah by learning – the parallel to fashioning the aron.  There are people who contribute to Torah by supporting Torah study – the parallel to donating gold for the aron.  But can someone participate in Torah study by watching someone else learn or contribute and just having kavanah?  How does that work?

I told my daughter (who I learned this Ramban with) that next time she forgets her homework she should tell the teacher that she had kavanah to do it and that's enough.  I figure if she quotes this Ramban the teacher should give partial credit.

a great memoir -- Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor

I like reading biographies and memoirs and just finished one that I have to recommend.  You would think that as on orthodox Jew there is not much I could gain from reading something with the title Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor, but you would be dead wrong.  Taylor tells the story of her leaving the ministry after 20 years of service only to re-discover her humanity and inner spirit, something that the intense demands of her job, even a job in the service religion, had robbed her of.  That rediscovery reminds her of what drove her to the ministry in the first place and what the service of G-d is all about.  She has a beautiful writing style and the book is just the type of thoughtful and reflective memoir that I like.  And the message is one that is important to all people: We are in such a rush to achieve and do, even in service of G-d, that we lose sight of the inner essence that religion is all about.

There are two passages in particular that I found interesting as a Jew.  Taylor discusses how hard it is to hit pause in life when there is just so much to do.  She writes that her Christianity exacerbated the problem, as she felt that G-d's kingdom was out there, waiting to be sought out -- under those circumstances, who has time to slow down and stop?  She found the answer in the Biblical verses we are all familiar with.  "Remember the Sabbath day..."  She writes (p. 136-137):

Like every other clergyperson I knew, I believed I had no alternative.  Taking a full day off was so inconceivable that I made up reasons why it was not possible.  If I stopped for a whole day, there would be no more weekend weddings at Grace-Calvary [the church where she was pastor], or someone else would have to do them.  Sick people would languish in the hospital and begin to question their faith.  Parishioners would start a rumor that I was not a real shepherd but only a hired hand.  If I stopped for a whole day, my animals would starve [she lived on a farm], my house would grow mold, weeds would take over my garden, and my credit rating would collapse.  If I stopped for a whole day, G-d would be sorely disappointed in me.

While remembering the Sabbath does involve a radical shift of priorities, these were all lies.  Observant Jews have kept the Sabbath for millennia, even those caring for half a dozen children and elderly parents whose needs do not stop when the sun goes down.  Sabbath is written into the ancient covenant with G-d.  Remember the Sabbath, the rabbis say, and you fulfill all of Torah.  Stop for one whole day every week, and you will remember what it means to be created in the image of G-d, who rested on the seventh day not from weariness but from complete freedom.  The clear promise is that those who rest like G-d find themselves free like G-d, no longer slaves to the thousand compulsions that send others rushing toward their graves.

Wow.  What a derasha.  No wonder Taylor was once ranked as one of the most effective preachers in the English speaking world.

There is another passage I found interesting.  Taylor writes that many ministers developed "larger-than-life swaggers" as they felt they had achieved near perfection, while others suffered sleepless nights as they contemplated just how far from perfection they were.  She writes (p 150):

As Christians, we were especially vulnerable since our faith turned on the story of a divine human being.  Those who became ordained were not presented with Moses or Miriam as our models, so that we could imagine ourselves as flawed human beings still willing to lead people through the wilderness.

When I read that I appreciated anew why the Torah presents every character flaw in our Avos and Imahos and does not try to sweep the defects under the rag and awe us with their greatness.  The message of Torah is that imperfection is not an obstacle to greatness.  

There is a lot more of value in Taylor's book that I think anyone who is human, no matter what their faith, can  appreciate.   

ain ma’avirin al hamitzvos

There is a famous teshuvah of the Radba”z on the topic of a person in prison who can choose one day a year to go out – should be wait for Yom Kippur, the most chashuv day of the year, should he maybe wait for Purim where he gets pirsumei nisa as well as mikra megilah, or should he choose the very next day on the calendar and not wait at all?  Radba”z says “ain ma’avirin al hamitzvos” – take the very next day. 

The Chacham Tzvi argues that this is against a mefurash gemara.  There is a sugya (Menachos 49a) that debates what to do if you have only one animal left in storage to use for korbanos and it’s Shabbos afternoon – should you use it to be makriv the korban musaf of Shabbos, as Shabbos is mekudash, or should you hold it until tomorrow and be makriv Sunday morning’s tamid because of the importance of tamid.  Based on the logic of the Radbaz, just like you don’t wait for Yom Kippur or for Purim because “ain ma’avirin al hamitzvos,”  it should be pashut that you should offer the musaf that is obligatory today instead of waiting for the tamid of tomorrow.  What’s the gemara’s safeik?  QED that since there is a safeik, the Radbaz is wrong.

How could you be mechaleik between the cases?  I'll let you think before writing anything.

mishkan as a b'dieved

The Midrash opens Parshas Terumah with a mashal: A king had an only daughter that was about to get married.  The king loved his daughter dearly and could not bear to part with her.  He begged her groom, “Please, make a small room in your home so that I can come and be with you.”  So too, Hashem could not separate himself from the Torah that he wanted to give to us.  Therefore, he requested that we build a Mishkan so that he could be with us.

R’ Chaim Ya’akov Goldvicht, the R”Y of Kerem b’Yavneh whose yahrzeit is today, pointed out that the mashal does not fit the nimshal.  In the mashal, the princess' marriage brings about her separation from her father, the king.  Hashem certainly did not give us the Torah so that we should separate from him!  Why should we need a mishkan to retain that closeness to Hashem after kabbalas haTorah?

The answer may be found in the brachos in Parshas BeChukosai.  “V’nasati mishkani b’sochichem, v’lo tigal nafshi eschem.  V’halachti b’sochichem v’hiyisem lachem l’Elokim.” (VaYikra 27).  At first glance these two pesukim seem to be just poetic repetition of the same idea.  The Seforno, however, reads them as two different concepts: When you have sinned, then my Mishkan will be there with you, "V'nasati mishkani b'sochichem," so that the Shechina will not be disgusted by you, "V'lo tigal nafshei eschem."   However, that is not the ideal.  “V’halachti b’sochichem,” the ideal is for Hashem to dwell amidst Bnei Yisrael without a Mishkan, “V’hiyisem lachem l’Elokim,”in full appreciation and acceptance. 

According to many Rishonim the construction of the Mishkan was a response  to  the cheit ha’eigel.  This is the idea our Midrash is reflecting.  Bnei Yisrael had moved away (so to speak) from Hashem through their sins and could not remain on the plateau attained at ma'amad Har Sinai.  Therefore, Hashem asked that we create a Mishkan so that he could still dwell among us. [see Pri Tzadik of R' Tzadok haKohen, first piece in the parsha for a similar idea.]