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:
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
"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 : ).
1. The gemara (Sotah 36) writes that Pharoah's advisors objected to his appointing this unknown slave named Yosef to a position of power. Pharoah answered that he saw royalty in Yosef. The advisors responded that if Yosef was indeed royalty, then he should be able to speak in 70 languages just like Pharoah, and he should be put to the test. The gemara says that Gavriel came and tried to help Yosef cram (better than using rosetta stone), but he wasn't getting it. Gavriel then added the letter hey to Yosef's name -- "Eidus b'yehosef samo [darshened as shemo=his name] b'tzeiso al Eretz Mitzrayim -- and he was then able to learn the 70 languages.
If Pharoah was able to master 70 languages, how was it that Yosef, "ish chacham v'navon," not to mention a tzadik, was incapable to doing so? Was it the time pressure, or the pressure of doing it for the test put forth by the advisors?
Maharal (Gevuros Hashem ch 28) explains that Moshe's speech impediment was not a flaw or a defect. Speech has to come from the chomer, the body, as well as the nefesh. Because Moshe was so spiritual, he was disconnected from the world, and was unable to connect to his guf to properly express himself through that medium.
R' Zev Hoberman z"l similarly explains that when the world was first created and was in a pristine, spiritual state, the only language that existed was lashon kodesh. The 70 languages came into being as a result of the sin of dor ha'palagah. Yosef's neshoma was still on that pristine, high level of spirituality, and therefore, it connected only with lashom kodesh. Its inability to express itself in other ways was a feature, not a bug.
2. The Midrash darshens Yosef's instructions "tvo'ach tevach v'hachein" as an allusion to Shabbos, which requires hachana, preparation. Since Yosef is described as a shomer Shabbos, therefore, his descendent was zocheh to offer korbanos at the dedication of the mishkan on Shabbos. The prince of Ephraim is the nasi who brought his korban and gift on the 7th day of the chanukas hamishkan.
Even though Yosef gave those instructions, the other shevatim as well as the Avos also observed Shabbos. Why is the reward given only to Yosef?
The Midrash in last week's parsha writes that had Reuvain known that the Torah would write that he saved Yosef, he would have grabbed him from the pit, hoisted him on his shoulders, and brought him home. Does that mean that Reuvain would have done more if he would have known about the great publicity he was going to get? Of course not. The Sefas Emes explains that what Chazal are telling us is not to minimize the significance of our own actions. A person who does a good deed may think to himself/herself, "What does it matter how I do it, what I do, how much I do? At the end of the day, what difference is my small effort going to make?" That mindset leads to discouragement, for doing less than the optimal, for giving less than 110% The truth is that every action we do makes as world of difference for ourselves and for our offspring, who learn from what we do. Every action is Torah. Had Reuvain realized that his efforts were Torah, and were not an insignificant fruitless attempt, he would have put more into it. (A few years ago I wrote up a different pshat here.)
I think that is what Chazal are getting at in this Midrash regarding Yosef as well. Of course the Avos and shevatim observed Shabbos, but there observance, for whatever reason, is not recorded explicitly, and therefore is not torah in the same was as Yosef's shmiras shabbos. What is recorded in the text is a limud for all doros for all eternity. Only Yosef merited that. (Why that is true, I'm not sure -- you can say whatever sevara you like.)
The effect it had on Ephraim being able to offer his gift on Shabbos is not a reward -- it's a consequence (all rewards in Torah are really consequence, but that's a discussion for some other time.) By definition, since Yosef's shemiras Shabbos was torah, it had an effect generations later, because that's what Torah is -- it is eternity. (See Bad Kodesh by R' Povarski who has a different approach.)
3. Put yourself in Yosef's shoes -- what would pop into your mind as soon as you see your brothers? Wouldn't you think to yourself, "These are the guys who sold me down the river!" But look at what the pasuk says, writes the Alter of Navardok: "Yayizkor Yosef es ha'chalomos asher chalam lahem" (42:8) Yosef thinks only of the dreams he once had, not what his brothers had done to him, and certainly not of revenge.
Tosfos (Eiruvin 80b) asks why is it that kitusei michtas shiura disqualifies a korah made from an asheira but does not disqualify a lechi made from an asheira. Tosfos answers that a korah requires a shiur of at least a tefach; a lechi has some shiur of height and width, but it is an insignificant amount (the width can be a mashehu). Tosfos then quotes R' Avraham as answering that if you took the lechi and broke it into little, tiny pieces, so long as you affix those little pieces together on a wall, it is a valid lechi. The same cannot be said of a korah, as the little pieces would collapse.
It seems that the two answers of Tosfos differ in their conceptual understanding of kitusei michtas shiura. According to the first answer, kitusei michtas *shiura* means that there is not enough "stuff" there, there is a lacking in the shiur required. A lulav made from an asheirah, for example, is pasul because it does not meet the requirement of being 4 tefachim tall. According to the second answer, there is sufficient "stuff" present -- what is lacking is tziruf, something to hold the parts together. It is as if that lulav, that korah, etc. are broken into little bits. That has no effect on the kashrus of a lechi.
The Ran asks why is it that a get can be written on issurei hana'ah -- why don't we say kitusei michtas shiura? Ran answers that there is no shiur for a get. It seems that the Ran held like the first model of kitusei michtas shiura, that it is a lack in shiur. According to the second model, even if get does not need a shiur, it would not do much good if it is ripped into little shreds. (See the Steipler in Sukkah who tries to get these two models to mesh together.)
Achronim discuss whether kitusei michtas shiura applies to ner Chanukah. The Aruch haShulchan quotes the second answer of Tosfos in Eiruvin and writes that even if the oil is broken into little drops, who cares? So long as it burns for the required time, you should be yotzei. Perhaps one could counter argue that according to the Ran kitusei michtas means it is as if there is a lack in the shiur of oil required to be lit.
Alternately, one might argue that there is in fact no shiur for the amount of oil that must be lit. This is Chanukah after all! Assuming the one jug the Chashmonaim found was broken into 8 parts, each day they lit with less than the shiur and nonetheless it burned for sufficient time. Ad she'tichleh regel min ha'shuk has nothing to do with how much "stuff"/oil there has to be -- it just tells us how long the menorah has to remain lit.
Yosef was lost somewhere in Mitzrayim, "vayeired Yehudah," Yehudah lost his leadership position for his role in the fiasco, Reuvain was immersed in doing teshuvah for his sins, Ya'akov could not be consoled over the loss of Yosef -- could things get any worse? Could things look any bleaker? Yet, the Midrash (85:1), after going through the above list, tells us that while all this was going on Hashem was busy creating the ohr of mashiach. At the very moment when things look the bleakest, Hashem was crafting redemption. That's a great lesson about Jewish history and Jewish destiny.
We have the story of Yehudah and Tamar in our parsha. The gemara (Sotah 7b) darshens that there is a connection between Yehudah's bracha, "V'zos l'Yehdah...," with a connecting vav, in parshas V'Zos haBracha, and Reuvain's bracha that comes right before it. Yehudah was not allowed to enter gan eden after death because he had pledged his olam ha'ba as collateral in case he did not bring Binyamin home. Moshe Rabeinu wanted to rectify that. He asked that Hashem open the gates of heaven for Yehudah in the merit of the special zechus Yehudah had of causing Reuvain to admit his guilt. When Yehudah publicly admitted that he was the one who had been with Tamar, Reuvain was inspired and admitted his own guilt in being "bilbeil yetzu'ei aviv" with Bilhah. In that merit, Yehudah earned entrance to gan eden.
R' Leib Chasman makes a beautiful point. Why it is that Yehudah's own public admission of guilt, at the cost of great embarrassment, was not enough to earn him olam ha'ba. Why was it only the fact that he caused Reuvain to confess? He beautifully answers that it's not only our own tzidkus that ultimately defines who we are, but it's what impact and influence we have on others.
Be that as it may, I don't understand simple pshat in a Rashi on this sugya. The gemara says that Yehudah and Reuvain received reward in this world as well as the next. Rashi (d"h lahem levadam) writes that Yehudah received the reward of malchus; Reuvain received the reward of getting the first portion of land in Eretz Yisrael, in Eiver ha'Yarden. Putting aside the question of whether Eiver haYarden has a full kedushas ha'aretz, I don't understand why this is a reward. In Parshas Matos Moshe Rabeinu was highly critical of Reuvain and Gad for asking for that territory. Taking it was viewed as a negative, and it was only with great reluctance that Moshe agreed that they could settle there. Why is getting that land a reward? I don't know.
It takes two to tango, and the reward of malchus given to Yehudah was earned by Tamar as well. Rashi (38:26) quotes the Midrash that "because Tamar was modest in her in-laws house, therefore I [Hashem] decreed that she should produce kings of Israel."
The is an amazing Rashi given the context. Here Tamar says, "haker na," whoever these items belong to is the father of my baby. She deliberately avoided accusing Yehudah directly, and would have even been willing to give up her life rather than embarrass him in public should he refuse to admit guilt. Yet, that's not why Tamar earned the reward of malchus! It's because of her tzeniyus, not her mesirus nefesh, that she was deserving of producing kings.
Were I a Beis Ya'akov teacher, this would be an easy home run derasha for the week. "Kol kevudah **bas melech** pnimah..." (The 45:14) The midah of tzeniyus and the midah of malchus go hand in hand. (Why that should be so is something to explore further. Friday night is a long night -- plenty of time to think : )
The Midrash writes that Yehudah took no notice of Tamar at first, but a malach caused him to turn aside off the road and go to her. He was coerced somehow to fall into this situation so that malchus yisrael could arise. It sounds like a supernatural occurrence, a long shot that you would not bet on. So what was Tamar thinking? What was this girl, who was so tzanu'a, hoping for? Surely she could not have expected Yehudah to notice her or to be with her? It would be like hoping to win the lottery!
R' Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Musar 5733 #9) answers that when a person realizes great things are on the line, he/she will grasp at every straw and make every effort, no matter how slight the chance of success, to bring things to fruition. Tamar realized this was her chance -- a slight chance, but still, a chance -- to perhaps be the mother of malchus, the mother who will bring the lineage of mashiach into the world. No matter what the odds, no matter what effort she took, it was something she had to shoot for.
Still haven't had a chance to write about Chanukah -- never enough time.
Rashi (32:23) writes that what happened to Dinah was a result of Ya'akov putting her in a box to keep her away from Eisav. Had Dinah married Eisav, she might have inspired him to do teshuvah, but thanks to Ya'akov, there was never a chance of that happening.
Why did the chance that Dinah might influence Eisav outweigh the potential danger of him influencing her, or her having a bad marriage? How does the benefit outweigh the downside risk? Why was Ya'akov wrong?
To compound the problem, the Midrash gives a completely different reason for what happened to Dina. In last week's parsha when Ya'akov made his deal with Lavan regarding which sheep Lavan would keep and which sheep would become part of Ya'akov's own flock, he told Lavan, "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar," my righteousness will speak for itself in the coming days. The Midrash (73:6) is critical of Ya'akov for this statement. "Al tishallel b'yom machar" -- you Ya'akov said "v'ansa... machar," therefore your daughter Dinah will suffer inuy at the hands of Shchem.
The first question that begs asking is what is the connection between Ya'akov's confident boast (if you will) to Lavan and what happened to Dinah. But secondly, which is it -- did Dinah come to harm at Shchem because Ya'akov put her in a box and kept her from Eisav, or because of what he said to Lavan?
Chasam Sofer explains that the two reasons go hand in hand. "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar" is a statement of tremendous bitachon. Ya'akov felt confident that what would happen would ultimately support his claims, his position, his righteousness because G-d had promised that no harm would come to him. The downside of boasting and being supremely confident based on bitachon is that you better be consistent, or you risk getting hoisted on your own petard (see this post.) Does someone completely confident that Hashem will protect him from all harm lock his daughter in a box? Ya'akov's own words to Lavan were the ruler against which his actions were judged, and he came up short.
I think this Chasam Sofer helps answer the question we started with. A normal person like me is bothered by the question of how we know Dinah would bring Eisav to teshuvah and not the other way around. But someone who is a big ba'al bitachon, 100% confident that Hashem will work things out in his favor -- that shouldn't be his concern. Hashem promised that he would come to no harm -- what's the issue?
Speaking of risk vs. reward, I saw a Brisker Rav quoted that I don't understand. Ya'akov said that if Eisav fights against part of the camp, "V'haya ha'machaneh ha'nishar l'pleitah," the other half will escape. How did he know that they will for sure escape? Rashi explains that Ya'akov meant that he will fight back and beat off Eisav. Mashma that Ya'akov knew that if he fights, he is going to win. So why did Ya'akov bother with the presents, the davening, etc. -- why not just fight and be done with it? QED, says the Brisker Rav, that you only fight when your back is against the wall and you've exhausted every other means of resolution at your disposal.
I don't understand how this Rashi supports making a blanket rule like that. Ya'akov may have been confident that he would win, but who says there would not be casualties? Maybe in the risk/benefit scale, the cost of even a victorious battle would have been greater than the cost of the presents sent to Eisav?
Last point for the week: the Chofetz Chaim asked why is it that the malach of Eisav, the yetzer ha'ra, came to fight davka against Ya'akov? Why did a bad malach not come to fight against Avraham or fight against Yitzchak?
The Chofetz Chaim answered that the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing chessed (Avraham), the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing mitzvos and avodah (Yitzchak), but the yetzer ha'ra cannot tolerate Torah. As long as a Jew is connected to Torah, "ohr she'bah machziro l'mutav" and the yetzer can never win. Therefore, it's against Ya'akov, the symbol of Torah, the yosheiv ohalim, that the heavy guns are brought out.
Rashi (28:17) writes that Ya'akov Avinu walked right past the makom mikdash on his journey to Lavan's house. When he later realized what he had done, he turned around to go back. Hashem then made a miracle and through kefitzas ha'derech brought Har HaMoriah to Ya'akov to spare him the journey. (see Ramban).
The simple pshat in Rashi -- "ya'hiv da'atei lachzor" -- is that Ya'akov set his mind to go back to the makom hamikdash and daven there. R' Moshe Scheinerman, however, suggests a different, more creative reading. Ya'akov set his mind to go back to where he was coming from -- back to the yeshiva of Shem v'Eiver where he had been learning for 14 years. Ya'akov said to himself, "Here I've been immersed in Torah for 14 straight years, and the second I leave the beis medrash my spiritual antenna become so dulled that I can walk right past the makom mikdash and not feel anything!" The only solution would be to go back to the beis medrash and improve those spiritual antenna even more. We have to be so careful when leaving the makom Torah, no matter who we are and no matter how long we have spent there, to keep our spiritual sensitivity intact.
But let's get back to the simple pshat in Rashi. Why did Hashem wait for Ya'akov to realize that he had missed an important exit on the highway and start to turn around before intervening? Why didn't Hashem stop Ya'akov before he passed Har HaMoriah in the first place?
The true story is that Reb Chaim Shmuelevitz used to spend Ellul with his uncle, Reb Avraham Jofen, in Novarodok. He asked him who is the biggest metzuyan in the yeshiva, and Reb Avraham pointed to a certain bachur. Reb Chaim was surprised, and asked, not the Steipler? Reb Avraham answered "You didn't ask who was the biggest lamdan. You asked who is the biggest metzuyan. That bachur is the biggest metzuyan, because he is the biggest mevakesh in the Yeshiva.
The story gives us the perspective to understand a yesod of R' Yerucham Lebovitz (in Da'as Torah on P' Braishis I think). When Ya'akov walked by the makom mikdash, he wasn't looking for anything, and so Hashem didn't come looking for him. Hashem does not ordinarily go out of His way to awaken people from their state of oblivion. However, the second Ya'akov realized his error, he became a "mevakesh" -- he immediately turned around and desired to be at the makom mikdash and to daven. When you are a "mevakesh" and are looking for Hashem, then Hashem reveals himself in kind. When you are a "mevakesh," then Hashem will even move mountains to help you on your quest.
Ya'akov's instituted the tefilah of arvis here. At first glance you would say that shacharis and mincha are far superior tefilos to arvis. There is a chiyuv to daven shacharis and mincha; tefilas arvis is a reshus (whatever that technically means). Yet we know that Ya'akov Avinu is the bechir of the Avos. How could his tefilah be the lowest rung on the ladder?
Rav Kook explains that it is precisely because arvis is a reshus that it is the greatest tefilah. When it comes to shacharis and mincha, the chiyuv is like a halachic gun to your head, so to speak. There is no choice other than to daven. When it comes to arvis, there is not that type of obligation. A person has to choose to daven arvis. A person has to be a mevakesh.
The Netziv in last week's parsha says something very interesting. The relationship between Rivka and Yitzchak was quite different than the relationship between Avraham and Sarah or even that of Ya'akov and his wives. Sarah had no qualms about telling Avraham how she felt about Yishmael and demanding that he kick him out of the house. Rivka doesn't communicate with Yitzchak. She knows Ya'akov deserves the brachos, but instead of telling Yitzchak directly, she arranges this whole surreptitious way of making sure he gets them. The Netziv says all this, but I think many a careful reader could figure it out too. What makes the Netziv fascinating is that the average careful reader would conclude that it's the lack of communication between Rivka and Yitzchak which is the cause of Ya'akov having to steal the brachos. The Netziv (24:65) says that it's the exact opposite. G-d wanted Ya'akov to get the brachos by "stealing" them from Eisav (see Harchev Davar to 27:1 as to why). To allow for the brachos to be gotten by "theft," Hashem caused there to be a different type of relationship between Yitzchak and Rivka. You have to know which is the horse and which is the wagon, what's the cause and what's the effect.
This distance between Yitzchak and Rivka is not something which develops over time, but rather, writes the Netziv, is set from the moment the two meet. When Rivka first sees Yitzchak, she reacts with fear and trepidation, falling from her camel, while Yitzchak is completely focused on his tefilah, blind to Rivka's presence. That meeting sets the tone for the rest of their marriage. All this so that 83 years later Ya'akov would be put in a position to use trickery to get the bracha meant for Eisav. Can you imagine Hashem causing something to happen on your first date with your wife that will set the tone of your relationship in such a way so that 83 years later some other event will work out in your lives or your children's lives?
Chazal darshen "Va'yar Elokim es kol asher asah v'hinei tov me'od" that "tov ME'OD" is the yetzer ha'ra, the malacha ha'maves. In other words, it's Eisav. "Va'yeilechhaloch v'gadeil ad ki gadal ME'OD." (26:13) Yitzchak Avinu was as great as that power of "me'od." The yetzer ha'ra turns good to bad; Yitzchak thought he could inspire and turn bad to good. Isn't doing that even greater than being good to begin with? "B'chol levacha" = with both sides of your heart, so that even the Eisav side cooperates. When Eisav entered the room as Ya'akov was departing after taking the brachos, and Yitzchak finally realized the truth of who Eisav was, it's not just "va'yecherad charadah gedolah," but it's "va'yecherad charadah gedolah ad ME'OD." (see here) His dreams of overcoming "tov ME'OD" = the malach ha'maves, the yetzer ha'ra, the evil of Eisav, had been dashed. (See Sefas Emes 5631)
