The
Human Ingredient
Parshas Matos
Oaths and vows are very sacred things, so sacred
that it is unthinkable that someone would violate them. In fact, no matter how
skeptical and distrustful we may generally be, if we hear someone, anyone, make
a solemn vow by all that is holy, we tend to believe it.
But what if the one making the vow could rescind
it at will? Would a vow still have the same credibility? Obviously not. The
force of a vow derives from its permanence and inviolability. And yet, the
Torah laws regarding vows, about which we read in this week’s Torah portion,
feature a mechanism by which one can be released from a vow. Surely then, this
mechanism reveals a very fundamental flaw in the vow. What is the mechanism?
And what is the flaw?
They are as follows. If the one making the vow
encounters an unexpected situation in which the vow creates complications, it
may be possible to obtain a release. For instance, a person vows not to eat a
certain type of food and afterwards he discovers that just this food will be
served at his son’s wedding. In retrospect, had he known he would not be able
to eat at his own son’s wedding he would never have made that vow in the first
place. In this case, he must present his argument to a rabbinical court, and if
it is meets the specific criteria, the court can release him from his vow.
What is the basis for this release mechanism?
The Talmud derives it from the verse, “Everything a person expresses in an
oath.” It would have been sufficient to say, “Everything expressed in an oath.”
Why the inclusion of the words “a person”? This seems to indicate that only
someone considered “a person” can make binding oaths and vows. Oaths and vows
that do not take future developments into consideration are not valid. Why?
Because they were made without the human ingredient.
Let us reflect for a moment. What are we
accustomed to thinking of as the human ingredient? In what way does our society
consider human beings superior to animals? It is in our creativity, our
intelligence, our ability to think and reason. Homo sapiens. Thinking man. But
the Torah uses an altogether different criterion. “A person,” according to the Torah, is someone who has foresight,
who considers not only the instant gratification of the here and now like an
animal but also the future ramifications of all his actions.
Why is this the ultimate human ingredient? Because
what truly sets a human being apart from an animal is his soul, the
indestructible spark of the divine that will continue to exist after the body
perishes, that draws its sustenance from the spiritual world rather than the
physical.. A person with foresight, therefore, realizes he cannot allow himself
to be distracted by the immediate gratification of his physical impulses. He
knows that he must use the short time allotted to him in this world to accumulate
merit which will stand him in eternal good stead in the next world. This is the
mark of a true human being.
A father was sitting on a park bench watching his
young sons at play. Nearby sat an old man.
The boys were exceedingly rough in their play,
pushing and grabbing things from each other, and the father looked on with
concern.
“Are you worried about them?” asked the old man.
“A little,” replied the father. “But I have
foresight. I came prepared with paraphernalia from my medicine cabinet in case
they get hurt.”
The old man laughed. “That’s foresight? Thinking
of bringing paraphernalia when you’re already standing at the door? If you
really had foresight you would have started years ago by bringing them up to be
more courteous and considerate of each other.”
In our own lives, we are all aware of the
importance of preparing for the future. But for which future are we preparing,
the temporary future we will encounter in a few years or the eternal future of
our indestructible souls? It is all good and well to make financial investments
that will secure our physical well-being when we grow old, but it’s even more
important to make spiritual investments that will secure the well-being of our
souls for all eternity.
Text Copyright © 2011 by Rabbi Naftali Reich
and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.
The
Age Of Experience
“Man was born to toil,” said Iyov, and indeed, how
we toil! We seem to be under constant pressure, ever working to provide for
ourselves and our families while trying to find time to enjoy the fruits of our
labors. But did you ever notice that when we attempt to relax, it sometimes can
be difficult to apply the parking break? While attempting to unwind, we tend to
become restless, straining to return to the world of activity and achievement.
And this makes us ask why we are so compelled to always occupy ourselves. Why,
when we finally do have a chance to relax, do we find it so difficult to detach
ourselves from the throb and hum of our daily lives?
At least part of the answer lies in the fact that
“life” and “activity” are really synonymous. Creative activity is the ultimate
expression of human life. Inanimate matter is fixed in its place, and even
animals can do little more than move from one place to another. Only we humans
are endowed with the innate ability to channel our talents toward meaningful
growth and advancement. By creating us in this fashion, HaShem gifted us with
the capacity to emulate Him, to become partners in the creation and development
of His universe. As we move along the road of life we are naturally growing,
developing, blossoming and maturing. At times it may not appear as if we are
realizing any major accomplishments. Nevertheless, we can be assured that core
values and morals are continually refining themselves as we learn from our past
mistakes and move towards a better tomorrow.
This concept is beautifully reflected in the
opening words of this week’s Torah portion, “These are the journeys of the
children of Israel who left the land of Egypt . . .” . The Torah continues to
devote many lines to detailing each of the forty-two locations where the Jews
encamped during their forty years of wandering in the Sinai wilderness. The
questions are obvious: why does the Torah devote so much space to delineating
the precise places that the people traveled from and to which they arrived?
Furthermore, it was only the very first journey, from Ramses to Succos, which
took them out of the land of Egypt. Why then does the Torah associate all of
their journeys with their Exodus from Egypt by telling us with each segment
“they traveled from . . . and they encamped at”? Would it not have sufficed to
simply record the historical location of each stop that they made in the
wilderness? It is also interesting to note that the Shabbat Torah reading this
week is recited in a melodious tone that is also used the recital of the other
‘songs’ in the Torah. Why is this historical narrative to be sung and
celebrated?
The commentaries explain that the forty-two
journeys enumerated here represent the many journeys, wanderings, and seemingly
fragmented episodes that occur to all of us during our own lives. Just as the
Children of Israel were distancing themselves from the ancient land of Egypt,
so we, during each of our own stages of growth, are attempting to remove
ourselves from our own mini-Egypt. The Hebrew word for Egypt-Mitzrayim is
rooted in the word for boundary and constraint. “Egypt” expresses much more
than the place of our physical slavery: it symbolizes the daily constraints and
limitations imposed upon us by the terms of our very existence.
Throughout our life’s journey, the physical body
constantly moves forward, serving as the vehicle of our growth, while our soul
and conscience take the role of an internal compass that steadily guides us
across the wilderness, prodding us to leave our ‘little Egypt’ while drawing us
ever closer to our very own promised land. Each stage and phase of our lives
represent essential chapters in our personal life documentary. Each stage and
phase has a celebratory note, for at each station on our journey we glean
invaluable insights and pointers that bring us one step closer to our ultimate
destination.
This important concept is reinforced with a
Torah commandment that obliges us to honor and stand up before an elderly
person. Why is it so important to venerate a senior fellow? Many older people
do not seem to have accomplished that much in their lives, so why do we confer
upon them so much esteem and reverence?
The commentaries explains that our esteem for the
elderly is grounded in our appreciation for the reservoir of experience that
they have inevitably garnered as they charted and navigated their passageway
through life. The insight and understanding that they have gained with the
passage of time are the ‘goods’ that we pay deference to and stand up for !
Thus, even if the older person may not have any groundbreaking accomplishments
in their life’s portfolio there is much that still deserves our respect.
This explains the Torah’s
lengthy description of the people’s journey through the wilderness. Each stage
of their journey was enriching. It enabled them to distance themselves from the
constraining influences of Egypt and drew them one step closer to their
destination. In our lives too each chapter invariably will leave us with
valuable insights and lessons that guide us forward towards a more meaningful
tomorrow.
Wishing you and yours a wonderful Shabbas
Rabbi Naftali Reich
Text Copyright © 2013 by Rabbi Naftali Reich
and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.
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