Actions Speak Louder Than Words

 

 

Posted on July 31, 2007 (5767) By Rabbi Chaim Flom | Series: Short Vorts | Level:

 

Beginner

“Our parents never had to tell us not to yell at anyone; we never heard them yell at anyone. Our parents never had to tell us not to speak loshon hora (slanderous speech); we never heard them speak loshon hora”. This was part of Sruly Nadoff’s eulogy for Rabbi Binyamin Nadoff.

“I always thought that if G-d would be a person, G-d would have been Mrs. Nadoff” said a student after Mrs. Nadoff’s funeral.

“You shall… walk in G-d’s ways…” (Divorim 10:12) The Gemara (Sota 14a) says that this means to emulate G-d’s traits.

Actions speak louder than words !!

Have a great Shabbos !!

Rabbi Chaim Flom

Letting Go • Torah.org

 

 

Posted on August 6, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

In this week’s portion Moshe talks about what was perhaps the most traumatic moment of his career. After spending 40 days and nights on the highest level of spiritual elevation, he returned from Mount Sinai to a scene that filled him with horror. At the foot of the mountain the Jews were reveling around a golden calf.

Naturally Moshe was appalled. Here he was, holding the luchos (tablets), a G-d-given immortal gift, and he faced a nation plunged into an act of idolatry. He smashes the luchos.

But if we analyze the narrative there is an interesting word that Moshe inserts as he describes his actions on that day. “I descended from the mountain and the two tablet were in my hands. Then I saw and behold! You had sinned unto G-d; you made yourselves a molten calf. So I grasped the two luchos and I threw them from my two hands and smashed them in front of your eyes” (Deuteronomy 9:15-17).

Moshe was holding the tablets when descending the mountain. Why did he clutch them before throwing them from his hands? Weren’t they already in his hands?

 

Shouldn’t the verse tell us “Then I saw and behold! You had sinned and you made yourselves a molten calf. So I threw the tablets from my two hands and smashed them in front of your eyes.” Why, and in what way did he grasp them?

A friend of mine told me a story about his great grandfather, a brilliant sage and revered tzadik. Whenever he saw one of his children commit an action that was harmful to their physical or spiritual well-being he would stop them. But this sage knew that stopping a child is not enough. The youngster would need a punishment too, whether it be potch (Yiddish for slap), reprimand, lecture, or the withholding of privileges.

But when a potch or harsh rebuke was due, the rabbi would not give it immediately. He would jot the transgression down in a small notebook and at the end of the week he would approach the young offender. After giving the child a hug and embrace, he reminded the child of the incident and explained to the child that his actions were wrong.

“I should have punished you immediately when I saw you commit your act,” he would say, “but honestly, I was angry then, and my punishment may have been one spurred by anger, not admonition. Now, however, that occurrence is in the past and I am calm. Now I can mete your punishment with a clear head. And you will know that it is given from love, not anger.”

He then proceeded to punish the child in a way that fit the misdeed. Moshe was upset. But he did not want to throw the luchos down in rage. He therefore grabbed them and held them tight before hurling them. Moshe, in his narrative tells us that he seized the luchos before breaking them. He wanted to send a clear message to the revelers below. That the mussar (ethical reprimand) that he was affording with this action was not born out of irrational behavior or in anger.

Before smashing the luchos Moshe embraced them, just as a father hugging a child that he would soon admonish. Because Moshe wanted to tell us that before we let loose, we have to hold tight.

Good Shabbos!

 

Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky

On Cue • Torah.org

 

 

Posted on August 2, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

Not often does G-d Almighty tell anybody to leave him alone. But then again, Moshe isn’t everybody.

This week, Moshe recounts the sad tale of the Golden Calf. Moshe had promised to return from Mount Sinai after receiving the Torah in forty days, but the Jews miscalculated.

According to their calculations, he was late. Fearing that Moshe would never return from  his celestial mission, the Jews made themselves a golden calf and worshipped it while proclaiming, “this is our god that took us out of Egypt.” Obviously, the calculations and miscalculations of the Jewish People are not as simple as they appear on the surface. That, however is an entirely different issue.

I’d like to focus in on the aftermath of the calamity of the Golden Calf. Hashem actually wanted to destroy the Jewish Nation and rebuild a new folk with Moshe, as its patriarchal leader. “Release me,” said G-d, “and I will destroy them and build a new nation from you”

(Deuteronomy 9:14)). Immediately after the words, “release me” Moshe sprung into action. In the Book of Exodus, it details how Moshe pleaded, cajoled, and reasoned with Hashem with a multitude of persuasive arguments that calmed His wrath. The Jews were spared.

What is troubling is Moshe’s chutzpah. Didn’t Hashem specifically tell him, “leave me alone”? What prompted him with the audacity to defy a direct command of Hashem?

Herbert Tenzer served as a distinguished congressman from New York in the 1960s. More importantly, he was an observant Jew who was a proud activist and was instrumental in providing relief for many Holocaust survivors. A few months before his passing, some years ago, he related to me the following story:

The energetic and often outspoken Rabbi Eliezer Silver of  Cincinnati,  Ohio  was  a prominent force in the Vaad Hatzallah Rescue Committee. He worked tirelessly throughout the terrible war years and their aftermath to save and place the victims of Nazi depravity.

In addition to his prominence in the Jewish world, Rabbi Silver enjoyed a personal relationship with the very powerful Senator Robert Taft of Ohio.

Rabbi Silver had a very difficult request that needed much political pressure and persuasion to accomplish. He asked Mr. Tenzer to accompany him to the Senator.

“Shenator Taft!” he exclaimed, mixing his distinct accent in which the s would sound as sh, with a high pitched intoning of emotions. I have a very important and difficult requesht!”

Rabbi Silver went on to plead his case of obtaining a certain number of visas for some refugees who may not have met all the criteria. Senator Taft looked nonchalant and non- committal. The Senator thought for a while then grimaced. He slowly and carefully   stretched his response. “It would be arduous and  burdensome,”  he  began.  “but technically,” he continued, implying all the while that he was not the least bit anxious to get his hands dirty, ” it can be done.”

But Rabbi Silver did not hear anything except the last three words.

 

“IT CAN BE DONE?” He shouted with joy. “SHO DO IT!” Needless to say the stunned Senator got to work immediately and obtained the visas for the beleaguered Jews.

Moshe heard one line from Hashem, “leave me alone, and I will destroy them.” That was   his cue. The Talmud in Berachos explains that hearing those words, Moshe knew that now  it all depended on him. The only way Hashem would destroy His people was if Moshe left him alone. And he didn’t. Moshe badgered, cajoled, and pleaded with the Almighty and we were spared.

My Rebbe once quoted legendary slugger Ted Williams, the last player to achieve a batting average of over .400. “Every player gets one pitch that he definitely can hit. To hit .400, don’t miss that pitch.” Instead of recoiling at the words “release me” or “leave me be,” Moshe saw his pitch. And he hit it awfully hard.

In life there are many cues. This week Moshe teaches his nation that when you get your cue, don’t miss it. Even if it takes a little chutzpah.

Dedicated by B. David & Shani Schreiber in memory of Naomi BasSheva Bas Rav Boruch Yosef of blessed memory

Good Shabbos!

Copyright © 1997 by Rabbi M. Kamenetzky and Project Genesis, Inc.