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Realities of Life • Torah.org
This week’s parsha which concludes the book of Vayikra deals with the realities of Jewish national and personal life.
On one hand it describes in rapturous terms
the blessings of happiness, security and serenity that can happen to the Jewish people and to the individual Jew. But on the other hand, it vividly and graphically describes death, exile, troubles and tragedy.
Jewish history bears out the accuracy of both visions. We have lived through both experiences. Jewish history seems to have contained much longer periods of darkness than of light, of more tragedy
than of joy and serenity. Though the Torah
assigns observance of the commandments as the prime cause of security in Jewish life and non-observance of the same as the cause of tragedy, history
and the great
commentators to Torah
seem to modify this cut and dried axiom.
G-d’s wisdom and judgments are inscrutable
and are beyond even elementary comprehension
by us mortals. As such
we are left wondering as to the tragedies that descended upon the Jewish people and that continue to plague us today. Though there are those amongst us that are prepared to give and accept glib answers to the causes
of tragedy, the wise men of Israel warned
us against such an approach. Observance of
commandments is enormously difficult to fulfill
completely and accurately.
As such it is difficult to measure the “why” part
of this week’s
parsha. It is sufficient to note
the “how it happened” part
to realize that
its message of contrasting periods
of serenity and tragedy has been painstakingly
accurate and contains not one word of hyperbole. The destruction of the Temples, the Crusades and pogroms, the
Inquisition and the Holocaust
are all graphically described in this week’s
parsha. Such is the prophetic power of the
Torah.
In personal life,
the longer one
lives the more
likely tragedy will
somehow visit them.
The Torah makes provision for this eventuality in its laws
of mourning. We all hope
for lives of goodness, pleasantness and secure serenity. Yet almost
inexorably problems, disappointments and even
tragedy intrudes on our condition.
In Vayikra, the death of the sons of Aharon
remains the prime
example of tragedy
suddenly destroying a scene of pride, satisfaction and seeming accomplishment. In this week’s
parsha the description of the punishment of Israel for
its backsliding comes
after a background of blessings and security. The past century presented the Jewish people with horrors of unimaginable intensity and of millennial accomplishments. The situation of extreme flux
in our national life
has continued throughout the sixty years
of the existence of the State of Israel.
The unexpected and sudden, but apparently regular
change of circumstances in national Jewish life mirrors the same situation so recognizable to us from our personal lives. We are constantly blindsided by untoward and
tragic events. So,
the jarring contrast that the two main subjects
of the parsha
present to us are really
a candid description of life and its
omnipresent contradictions, surprises and difficulties.
Though we pray regularly for health and serenity, we must always be cognizant of how precarious situations truly are. Thus, as we rise to hear
the conclusion of the book
of Vayikra we recite the mantra of “chazak,
chazak, v’nitchazek” – let us be doubly
strong and strengthen others! So, may it be.
Shabat
shalom. Rabbi Berel Wein
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Familiarity Breeds Respect
Anticipation. What a wonderful feeling. As the long-awaited event
draws ever closer,
we cannot help but
count the days.
Five days left.
Four days. The excitement builds
and builds until it is almost unbearable.
We experience this
excited anticipation at this time
of the year, during the days of Sefiras
Haomer, when we count down
towards the Giving
of the Torah
on Shavuos. But the count does not follow the
expected pattern. We do not
count 49, 48,
47 and so on, calculating the diminishing number of days remaining. Instead, we count
1, 2, 3 and so on, calculating the days that
have already passed.
Why is this
so?
A look into
this week’s Torah
portion offers an illuminating insight. Hashem reassures us that
if we are faithful to the Torah,
He will shower
us with blessings. Among these is the
promise to “place My Abode
among you, and I will not be revolted by you.” The choice of words here is quite puzzling. If Hashem chooses to establish His Abode among the Jewish people, why in the world
would He be revolted by them?
The answer lies
in a very familiar concept. We have always
been conditioned to believe that “familiarity breeds contempt,” and
indeed, it is true in most cases. When we observe a person from afar, we
develop an idealized impression formed of his most striking characteristics. But as we become more familiar, as we draw closer, we begin to notice the minute faults, the moles
and warts, both
literal and figurative, that are not visible from
afar. We no longer
think of this
person as such a paragon
of virtue but as an ordinary person
with human failings – if not worse. Furthermore, a relationship that
falls into familiarity loses its glamour and mystique. The old thrill
is often gone.
One might have
thought, therefore, that
when the Creator
chose to establish His Abode among the Jewish people it would spell the beginning of the end for His special relationship with them.
Although, He certainly is all-seeing and all-knowing, when the shortcomings and foibles of the Jewish are not brought into the spotlight of the Divine Presence, so to speak,
they are not as easily dismissed. When Hashem actually dwells among the Jewish people, a higher
standard of behavior
is required; anything less would be “revolting” to Him. From
the side of the
people, furthermore, one
might have thought
that the thrill
of having the Divine
Presence among them would eventually dissipate, and the people would
take it for granted,
once again causing Him to be “revolted,” so to speak.
Therefore, Hashem reassures us that this will not
happen. The relationship would grow ever
stronger, breeding respect
not contempt.
During the days of Sefiras
Haomer, our counting
is not merely an emotional outburst of impatience and anticipation. Rather, it is a sober
expression of a gradual process
of drawing closer to Hashem, whereby
each day is a building block resting on the previous day and forming a foundation for the next.
As we contemplate the approach of the awesome
Giving of the
Torah, as we condition our inner selves to become
attuned to the eternal truths
of the universe, we undergo
a process of growth.
As we draw closer to the Creator,
we are increasingly overwhelmed by His infinite greatness. And we become
ever more purified
and more beloved
to Him. The Count of the
Omer, in its ideal
form, is the record of this growth,
of this blossoming relationship.
Two cross-country travelers met in a roadside inn.
“Tough trip,” one
of them commented to the other.
“But just one thousand miles
to go, and I’ll reach the coast.
How about you?”
“I’m also heading
for the coast.
I’ve covered two thousand miles
already, and I’ve had a very
good trip.”
“Really? Say, if we’re both
going coast to coast, how come I find the
trip tough and
you don’t?”
The other thought
for a moment, then he said, “It’s
really quite simple.
You say you have a thousand miles to go, which shows
your mind is totally focused
on the destination, and the entire trip
is just terrible drudgery. I say
I’ve already covered
two thousand miles,
which shows the trip itself has value to me. I enjoyed
the spectacular vistas,
seeing new places
and observing their
ways of life.
I look at my two thousand miles
as an accomplishment, and so, I’m having a very good trip.”
In our own lives, we acknowledge that
we need to strive toward
idealistic goals, to a life
of goodness and spirituality, but we sometimes lose sight of the transcendent value of each passing day in helping
us achieve those
goals. We think
that at some
future time we will
become more spiritual, that we will live
a higher and better life.
But these goals
cannot be reached by a mere
decision and a snap of the fingers. Only by painstakingly building a
structure
of days set upon days
can we reach the peaks
to which we aspire. And in the process, we will discover
that getting there
is itself a very rewarding and enriching experience.
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