The Long Short Way
If you will follow My
decrees and observe My commandments and perform them, then I will provide your
rains in their time, and the land will give its produce and the tree of the
field will gives its fruit. Your threshing will last until the vintage and the
vintage will last until the sowing; you will eat your bread to satiety and you
will dwell securely in the land. I will grant (Shalom) Peace in the land….
(Vayikra 26:3-6)
If you will follow My decrees: That you should be striving in
Torah learning. (Rashi)
How does “following HASHEM’s decrees” translate into “you should
be striving in Torah”? The verse seems to be more focused on the doing
dimension, the observance rather than the learning factor. Of course we could
say that if you don’t learn you cannot do but that’s way too obvious and
simplistic. Rashi decodes the message as meaning, “that you should be striving
in Torah!” That means learning!
Secondly, is the promise of peace intended as an incentive, a
reward, or is it a natural consequence? Why should striving in Torah deliver
peace? What’s the connection?
Just this past Shabbos I was taking a slow paced walk home with my
oldest son and my youngest son. I began to quiz the younger fellow who is 17
years his brother’s junior. It was a subject that unbeknownst to would be
mentioned in this week’s Daf HaYomi-Eruvin 54B. I queried, “Which is the better
way to go, “the shortcut that is a long way” or the long way which is a
shortcut”? He got the right answer- the long way which is a shortcut! Then we
began to search for practical examples of each of the two ways so we could
anchor the idea even more.
Eventually our attention turned to a primary case study that really
hit home. My wife and I often jest seriously that the best investment we ever
made was to pave a segment of our back yard and to plant a basketball hoop. For
a number of very good reasons this is so. 1) There the boys would go daily for
recreation. 2) They got plenty of practice and being good in basketball is a
big confidence booster for boys. 3) We could promise that the action was in our
back yard and we could know where our kids are. Now our youngest son spends
many good day light hours back there perfecting his shot.
There’s one problem though. The rim has a little “give” to it- that
is it’s not firmly connected and it tends to dip to one side when the ball
lands on it. It doesn’t stop us from playing and enjoying but it is a painful
reminder of a foolish episode from some 15 years ago. When we were installing
the basket and the rim I was in a hurry to get it all cemented and connected.
It was a family event. People couldn’t wait to play (that means me). As I was
busy assembling my oldest boy was busy studying the instruction which were
spread out on the court. He was trying to slow me down but I felt I knew
better.
When everything was finally in place I proudly stepped back to
admire the fruit of all my hard work. I noticed then that amongst the small
pieces there was an “extra” nut and bolt. I wondered aloud, “What’s this thing
for?” Then my son who was still staring deeply into the instruction manual
asked me if I had done step “D” after step “C”. I had never known there was a
step “C’. Well it was all there and it looked fine. Then when we took the first
shot it was apparent that this parent had made a mistake. With everything
locked in there was no way to undo step “D” and go back to step “C”.
That extra nut was no vestigial piece of hardware. We have lived
ever since with the imperfection of that shaky rim and it serves as a perfect
example of the shortcut that turned out to be a long way. I should have taken
the time to study the manual of instructions.
The Torah is a Divine instruction manual. We are cautioned; If you
study it intently and build your life decisions according to the details of its
dictates then the peace that follows is a consequence of having traveled the
long short way.
But Were Afraid To Ask
The Torah does not
usually leave room for official questions of faith. It tells us, in no
uncertain terms, what our responsibilities are and the commitment we must make
to be observant Jews. Every mitzvah entails sacrifice. Sometimes it requires a
monetary commitment, sometimes a commitment of time and morals. Not often does
it consider the human trials one encounters in mitzvah performance. They are
our problem and we must deal with them as human beings and as Jews.
Yet this week the Torah uncharacteristically provides leeway for
those who may waver in their commitment.
In Parshas Behar the Torah charges the Jewish people with the laws
of shmittah. Every seventh year, we are told that the land of Israel is to lie
fallow. No work is to be done with the earth. There is not to be a harvest, nor
may the ground be sown or reaped.
Observing shmittah is a true test of faith. Imagine! One must not
harvest his grain but instead rely on pure faith for his daily fare. Yet the
Torah does not leave us with the austere command. The Torah deals directly with
the human emotion related to the issue. In Leviticus 25:20 the Torah foretells a
human side. “And if you will say in your heart, ‘what shall we eat in the
seventh year, behold the land has not been sown nor has it been reaped?'”
Hashem reassures the people that His bounty will abound in the sixth year and
they will live the seventh year in comfort.
This is not the only time the Torah realizes human wariness. In
reference to the command of conquering the Land of Canaan, the Torah states in
Deuteronomy 7:17: “Perhaps you shall say in your heart, ‘these nations are more
numerous than me. How will I drive them out?'” Once again Hashem reassures His
nation that He will not forsake them.
The question is glaring. Why does the Torah answer to human psyche?
Why doesn’t the Torah just command us to let the land lie fallow, or conquer
the Land of Canaan? If there are problems or fears in our hearts, they are our
problems. Those fears should not be incorporated as part of the command.
Isidore would meet his friend Irving every other week while doing
business. “How are you Irving?” Isidore would always ask. “How’s the wife and
kids?” Irv would always grunt back the perfunctory replies. “Fine.” “A little
under the weather.” “My son Jack got a job.”
This one sided interrogation went on for years until one day Isidore
exploded. “Irv,” he said abruptly. “I don’t understand. For six years I ask you
about your wife, your kids, and your business. Not once mind you, not once did
you ever ask me about my wife, my kids, or my business!
Irv shrugged. “Sorry, Izzie. I was really selfish. So tell me,” he
continued, “how is your wife? How are your kids? How is your business?”
Izzie let out a sigh of anguish and began to krechts. He put his
hand gently on Irv’s shoulder, tightened his lips, and shook his head slowly.
“Don’t ask!”
Reb Leible Eiger (1816-1888) explains that there are many questions
of faith that we may have. The faithful may in fact fear the fact that there is
fear. “Is it a flaw in faith to worry?” “Am I committing heresy by fearing the
enemy?” “Am I allowed to ask?” The Torah tells us in two places, “you will have
these questions. You will ask, ‘how am I going to sustain myself and family?’
“You will worry,” ‘how will I conquer my enemies?’ ‘Will I be destroyed?'” The
Torah reassures us that there is no lack of trust by asking those questions. We
mustn’t get down on ourselves and consider questions a breach of faith. Life
and sustenance are mortal attributes. They warrant mortal fear.
Adam, the first man was originally blessed with eternal life without
having to worry for his livelihood. After sinning, he was cursed with death and
was told that he would eat by the sweat of his brow. The Torah assures us that
it is not only human but also acceptable to worry about these two issues —
one’s livelihood and survival, as long as we believe in the reassurances about
those worries.
Good Shabbos!
Strengthen
Our Faith
The book of Vayikra opened on a very high and positive note. Moshe
is the recipient of Divine revelation and serves as the High priest of the
Mishkan during its first week of its dedication. His brother Aharon is
appointed as the permanent High Priest and the children and the descendants of
Aharon remain the special family of kohanim throughout the ages of Jewish
history.
After the revelation at Sinai and the acceptance of the Torah by
Israel, and the dedication of the Mishkan, the Jewish people are apparently at
the zenith of their national and spiritual life. Yet this rosy future is not
quite what will really occur. At the conclusion of the book of Vayikra, which
we read in this week’s parsha, a much more somber picture is portrayed.
Anyone cognizant of the story of the Jewish people over the
centuries is well aware that all of the dire predictions that appear in this
week’s parsha are not hyperbole. A professor of Jewish studies once wryly
commented to me that Jewish history was “all books and blood.” That pretty much
sums up the book of Vayikra as well.
Two of Aharon’s sons are destroyed, many laws and strictures are
bought down as the Torah of Sinai is fleshed out by G-d through Moshe, and the
awful events that will befall the Jewish people – destruction, exile and agony,
are all painfully described in this week’s parsha. Thus the book of Vayikra
becomes the true book of the Jewish story, in all of its glory and somber
narrative.
What are we to make of all of this? That question has hovered over
all of Jewish life in every location, generation and circumstance. Because of
the inscrutable nature of G-d’s direction of Jewish affairs, the question has
never had an even halfheartedly satisfactory answer. The books, the laws, and
the commandments remain in the main to be mysterious as does the blood of
Jewish history.
Because of this, Jewish history, aside from being composed of books
and blood, is mainly composed of faith and belief. That is what the rabbis may
have meant when they stated that the prophet annunciated the basic underpinning
of all of the Torah – “the righteous person lives on faith.” And faith is truly
a difficult commodity to achieve and maintain.
The past century of Jewish life has challenged traditional Jewish
faith greatly and dealt it mighty blows. For many Jews it no longer is a viable
commodity in their arsenal of life’s values. Yet it is obvious that it is the
one and only value that can help us weather the uncertainties, contradictions,
cruelties and dangers that make up current Jewish life.
The Torah itself charts no easy way to acquire faith – in fact, it
has very little to say regarding the subject of faith itself. However, at the
conclusion of the public reading of the book of Vayikra (as at the conclusion
of all of the other books of the Torah as well) we rise and strengthen
ourselves in our belief and faith. May it so be.
Shabat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein
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