In the Wake of the Nadav and Avihu Tragedy

Parshas Acharei Mos

Posted on April 27, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The death of the two sons of Aaron remain one of the great mysteries that the Torah presents to us. The Talmud and Midrash have advanced several ideas as to why such a tragedy occurred and it may seem to a certain extent it was self-inflicted. The reasons for their failures are listed – they had drunk too much wine, they never intended to marry and father a family and they wanted their elders to pass on so that they could be the leaders of the people. Over the centuries other ideas of their failings have been enumerated by the commentators.

 

In the face of all of this we have the record of the Torah itself that their father Aaron was silent. The silence many times is the only acceptable answer in the face of tragedy. The silence indicates the line between the judgment of heaven and the understanding of life that humans bring to it. My thoughts are not your thoughts and my ways are not your ways, that is what the Lord says, and man must adjust to that difficult reality.

 

So, Aaron is silent. He does not complain, and he does not cast blame. Is he aware of the behavior of his sons? The Torah does not comment upon that either. Many times, parents really do not comprehend their children nor are they privy to their ambitions or thoughts. But the Torah leaves all of this as an open question as far as Aaron and his sons are concerned. We have no idea as to what he thought of his sons, but we can understand the anguish and pain that he must have suffered on that terrible day of tragedy. Aaron remains a symbol therefore of the ability to continue life even when life has struck a deadly blow to the person. In this respect I always felt that he is a prototype of Iyov who also seems to suffer for causes that are unknown and inexplicable. However, Iyov complains loudly and demands to know why. Aaron is silent and does not raise his voice either in anger or in doubt.

 

I can only imagine that the surviving sons of Aaron, Elazar and Itamar, are placed under enormous personal and emotional pressure. The older sons, Nadav and Avihu, were seen as the heads of the family and as the ones who bore responsibility for preserving the line of the priesthood and the holiness of the Tabernacle and Temple. Now they have suddenly been removed from the scene. Elazar and Itamar are the only ones left. Many times in human history we have seen that younger brothers who never expected to become a monarch or have a position of importance and influence, when fate decreed otherwise and made that younger person the head of the family or the leader of the country, rose to the occasion.

It is not that they imitated their older siblings who no longer were present, but rather it was that they were able to assert their own personality and their own inner greatness. One never knows the capabilities and potential that one has until and unless one is challenged by fate and life itself. Potential exists within everyone. The ability to bring forth that potential and to further it and strengthen it and make it beneficial, that is a challenge.

 

So, included in the tragedy of the deaths of the two older sons of Aaron is the response of the two younger sons who apparently rise to the occasion. Elazar will be the high priest that leads the Jewish people to the land of Israel and Itamar will be the one that is able to organize and correctly finance the building of the tabernacle in the desert and other projects as well. The line of the priesthood of Israel that exists until today runs through Elazar and Itamar who never expected to be the ones that would have to bear that burden and meet that challenge. That is also part of the idea of Aaron’s silence. For who knows how people will respond and who knows what potential will be released that will help build the Jewish people and humankind.

 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

 

Nothing Wasted

Parshas Acharei Mos

Posted on May 1, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Nothing is as painful as the loss of a child. The wound it leaves in the heart of the parent is so deep, so jagged that no amount of time can ever heal it. And if that child was a shining young star, beautiful, talented and accomplished, the pain is that much greater to bear. The pain Aaron felt at the sudden demise of Nadab and Abihu, his two brilliant sons who perished while bringing unauthorized fire into the sanctuary, must have been excruciating.

 

With this in mind, let us take a close look at this week’s Torah portion. The reading begins with a description of the sacrificial service conducted by Aaron, the High Priest, on Yom Kippur. The Torah prefaces these instructions with the following words, “And the Lord spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron, when they drew near to Hashem and died . . . With this shall Aaron come into the sanctuary, with a young bullock as a sin-offering . . .”

 

Two questions immediately come to mind. One, why mention the death of Aaron’s two sons in this context? What was the point of rubbing salt in his wounds? Furthermore, what is the significance of the seemingly superfluous words “with this”?

 

Let us reflect for a moment on loss. Two people die. One is killed on a subway by a deranged killer on a shooting spree. The other dies of smoke inhalation while rescuing children trapped in a burning building. Both families mourn the death of their loved one, but which feels a greater sense of loss, of emptiness? Clearly, the family of the hero suffer a more bearable sorrow. At least there was meaning to his death. But what is the family of the subway victim supposed to feel? How are they to deal with the pointless snuffing out of a vibrant life? How are they to deal with the sudden senseless void that has appeared in their lives? The perception of waste is the most difficult aspect of personal loss.

 

The untimely deaths of Nadab and Abihu, two brilliant young priests with such promising futures, must have seemed like such a terrible waste. But our Sages tells us that their intentions were pure, that they acted out of tremendous although somewhat misguided zeal. The commentators explain that anything a person does for the good takes on a life and an existence of its own, even if its effectiveness is not immediately apparent. The act, the word, the thought still exist, and at some time and place in the future they can effect important results. Nothing is lost. Nothing is wasted.

 

This is what Hashem was telling Aaron by way of consolation for the death of his two sons. “With this” shall Aaron enter the sanctuary. With the fiery zeal of his two sons, which would now be channeled to their proper destination through the Yom Kippur service performed by their father. Through his actions, Aaron could tune in to the spiritual energy generated by his sons and harness it to add momentum to his own service. In this way, he could bring fulfillment to the lives of his sons and solace to his own broken heart.

 

A young dissident was sentenced to fifteen years of hard labor in a prison camp. Each day he would push a long pole attached to a gear that turned a heavy millstone in the next room. Day in and day out for fifteen years, from dawn until long after dark, the prisoner pushed the pole in an endless circles of backbreaking labor.

 

When he was finally released, he asked to see the millstone, and his wish was granted. The room turned out to be dark and musty, covered with cobwebs and many inches of dust. The former prisoner took one look and burst into tears.

 

“Why are you crying?” asked the puzzled warden.

 

“All these years, I had thought I was grinding grain, that I was helping make bread. But now I see that all that terrible hardship was a total waste. That is simply too much to bear.”

 

In our own lives, we often expend energy on all sorts of good deeds without seeing any tangible results. For instance, we put tremendous efforts into our children, and sometimes we become frustrated, thinking it is all for naught. But it is not. We can all take comfort in the knowledge that no good deed or good word is ever wasted, that somewhere, sometime, in one way or another, our efforts all bear fruit…

 

Text Copyright © 2008 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

 

A Holy Mindset

Parshas Acharei Mos Kedoshim

Posted on May 5, 2017 (5777) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

The direct message of these two parshiyot is clear: In order to live a meaningful life that contains within it the necessary elements of spiritual sanctity one must limit one’s desires and physical behavior patterns. The Torah does not award accolades for great intellectual or social achievements if they are unfortunately accompanied by uninhibited physical dissolute behavior. It is not only the message that counts – it is just as much the messenger as well.

 

There are many laws, mitzvot and strictures that are the stuff of these two Torah parshiyot. The Talmud warns us against the dangers of false preaching and hypocrisy. All faiths and political systems are strewn with the remains of noble ideas preached by ignoble people and dissolute leaders. The Torah is therefore prescient in demanding that Jews must first dedicate themselves to the goals of righteousness and probity before it instructs them in the details of Jewish living and normative behavior.

 

The Torah is wary of those who immerse themselves in purifying waters while still retaining in their hands, hearts and minds the defiling creature itself. The Torah is keen to apply this concept to its entire worldview. Justice is to be pursued but only through just means. The Jewish nation is not only to be an obedient and observant nation – it is charged with being a holy nation. Without the goal of personal holiness being present in Jewish life, observance of the Torah laws oftentimes will be ineffective, a matter of rote behavior and not of spiritual uplift and improvement.

 

This required dedication to holiness in life is achieved in the small, every day occurrences in human life. It defines how we speak and what we say and hear. It prevents us from taking advantages of others in commerce and social relationships. It fights against our overwhelming ego and our narcissistic self. Holiness opens up to us the broad panorama of life and allows us to view the forest and not just the trees.

 

It demands inspiration and makes us feel unfulfilled if we achieve only knowledge. It creates a perspective of eternity and of future generations and lifts us out of the mundane world of the ever-changing present. It infuses our behavior with a sense of cosmic importance and eternal value so that everything in life, in fact living itself, is of spiritual importance and value.

 

It impresses upon us the realization that we are not only to be judged by our current peers but by past and future generations as well. Even achrei mot – after one’s departure from this world – kedoshim tihiyu – shall later generations be able to judge one as being holy, dedicated and noble. This is the mindset that the Torah demands from us as we proceed to fulfill all of the laws and mitzvoth that are detailed for us in these two parshiyot. For in the absence of such a dedication and mindset, the perfunctory observance of those laws and mitzvot cannot have the necessary effect upon our souls and lives.

 

Shabat shalom,

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

Details Make the Difference

Parshas Acharei Mos Kedoshim

Posted on April 22, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The Torah reading for this week is a double portion, which together contains the largest number of commandments that appears in any one section of the holy Torah. One question which has challenged Judaism throughout the ages is why do we need so many commandments to fulfill our obligation to be good, kind, and faithful? Is it not sufficient that we understand the general principles as outlined in the Ten Commandments, which permeate all Jewish life and scholarship?

 

Since we are aware of the goal – namely that of being a good, honest, and compassionate human being – shouldn’t that realization suffice and not require all of the particular details that make up the bulk of this week’s Torah reading. Even though we understand, as any lawyer will tell you, that the devil is in the details, at first glance and even with a superficial understanding, it seems completely superfluous to have these many instructions hurled upon us, to achieve the goal that we are all aware of.

 

By the way, this has always been the contention of some factions in Jewish life through history – that the details of the commandments were not really that important, but as a Jew, it was crucial to be a good person at heart. This was the contention of the ancient Sadducees in second Temple times and continues to be the philosophy of all those groups that deviated from Jewish tradition and observance of the Torah Commandments throughout the ages. It remains, even today, the banner of the non-Orthodox groups that loudly proclaim and justify their essential non-Jewish Jewishness. To them, the details are unnecessary, burdensome and of little value. Just be a good person, they proclaim, and that alone is the essence of Judaism.

 

But human history teaches us differently. As has been famously articulated: the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and good intentions often lead to tyranny over others, and even to murder and genocide. Without the details, how are good intentions to be fulfilled. We cannot rely upon human judgment to guarantee that those good intentions will ever be realized.

 

The worst dictators and murders of the past few centuries such as Napoleon, the Kaiser, and even Hitler and Stalin always proclaimed that they had good intentions for their country, and, in fact, for all of mankind. They maintained that to achieve those good intentions they were entitled to use force and coercion against millions of others, to actualize their good objectives.

 

In our current world society, good intentions alone, without the restraint of the commandments and details, led to the murder of millions of unborn but living fetuses, concentration camps, gulags, the cancel culture, and the tyranny of the majority over the minority, no matter how slight the margin of majority in terms of numbers and popularity.

Good intentions without the restraint of details and commandments are, in fact, a danger, and not a boon to human society. Through the Torah commandments, Judaism offers instructions as how to become a good person and maintain a moral life. It teaches us that oftentimes it is the minority, not the majority, that is correct.

 

Even though the goal of being a good and holy person should never be forgotten – for otherwise the observance of the details would be of little value, as is noted by Ramban, that one can be a wicked person while believing oneself to be within the purview of the Torah. It is the balance between the great ultimate goals and the details of how to achieve that which makes Judaism unique, vibrant, and eternal. This balancing act is the secret of the survival of Judaism and the Jewish people throughout the ages.

 

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein

 A Matter of Opinion

Parshas Acharei Mos

Posted on May 5, 2017 (5777) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

The two festivals of Pesach and Shavuos come in such rapid succession they almost seem like one extended celebration. Indeed, some commentators compare the intervening days between Pesach and Shavuos, when we count down to the Omer, to Chol Hamoed, the Intermediate Days of the Festivals. By rights, this should be one long period of uninterrupted festivity – but it is not.

 

The days of Sefiras Haomer, the Countdown to the Omer, are also days of mourning and sadness. We mourn a catastrophe that befell the Jewish people in Talmudic times, shortly after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. The Talmud (Yevamos 62) tells us that a plague broke out among the disciples of Rabbi Akiva during the period between Pesach and Shavuos, killing twenty-four thousand of them.

 

This was indeed a terrible tragedy, but an annual memorial is nevertheless somewhat puzzling. Unfortunately, Jewish history is a long succession of terrible tragedies that blankets the entire calendar, and if we were to observe annual mourning for them all, we would never cease to mourn. Our Sages, therefore, selected only the most disastrous calamities for annual commemoration. Why then does this plague rank among the most disastrous calamities ever to befall the Jewish people?

 

Furthermore, let us consider the cause of the plague. According to the Talmud, it happened because “they did not have sufficient respect for one another.” Two problems immediately come to mind.

 

First, why would an infringement on the respect of their fellow disciples precipitate such dire consequences?

 

Second, why indeed did they fail to respect each other sufficiently? Rabbi Akiva was one of the foremost proponents of ve’ahavta lereiacha kamocha, loving one’s fellow as oneself; he considered it one of the fundamental concepts of the Torah. Surely then, he would have stressed this idea to his disciples, impressing on them the importance of treating other people with absolute respect. After hearing such words from the holy lips of Rabbi Akiva, how could twenty-four thousand of his disciples even consider being disrespectful to one another?

 

The commentators explain that Rabbi Akiva’s disciples were certainly people of sterling character who would never have dreamed of uttering a single rude word to another person. Rather, their “disrespect” manifested itself in the intellectual sense.

 

The Talmud tells us that just as no two people are exactly identical in their appearance, they are also not identical in their outlook and opinions. Every person has his own particular way of looking at things, and no one else in the world has exactly the same perspective. When Rabbi Akiva taught his disciples, each one absorbed the teachings according to the nuances of his particular perspective. This was, of course, as was to be expected. But how did they view the opinions of their colleagues?

 

This is where the “disrespect” came into play. They could not acknowledge the possibility that other people’s perspectives might also have validity. Each one considered his own opinion the absolute truth and the opinions of his colleagues as erroneous. This attitude reflected a lack of objectivity and intellectual honesty. They were so enamored of their own wisdom that they could not see the wisdom of others and respect their opinions. The transmission of the truth of the Torah to future generations, however, required intellectual purity and integrity, and these disciples were found lacking in that respect. Therefore, in order to prevent the chain of transmission from being compromised, these disciples perished in a plague.

 

And we mourn. We mourn the loss of twenty-four thousand great Torah scholars. But even more, we mourn the riches of Torah knowledge and insight we could have gained from an additional twenty four thousand conduits of Torah, with all the textures and nuances of their varied perspectives – if only they had been worthy. How these disciples could have made the Torah blossom before our eyes – if only they had been able to achieve perfect objectivity. But they did not, and our loss is irreplaceable.

 

In our own lives, we sometimes become so wrapped up in our own point of view that we fail to acknowledge the possibility that an opposing point of view may also have validity. There is an element of egotism and conceit behind such an attitude. We love ourselves, and therefore we must be right. But if we find it in ourselves to love our fellow as we do ourselves, we will suddenly see the world with a new and profound clarity. Things that bothered us will no longer do so. Things we did not appreciate will take on new value and importance. And more likely than not, we will discover we have gained much wisdom and peace of mind.

 

Text Copyright © 2011 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

 

 

Changing the World

Parshas Acharei Mos

Posted on May 2, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

 

And no man shall be in the Tent of Meeting when he comes to effect atonement in the Holy, until he comes out. And he shall effect atonement for himself, for his household, and for all the congregation of Israel. (Vayikra 16:17)

 

I am struck by the list of recipients of atonement and the order. Why is it not just “all the congregation of Israel”? That would include the Kohain Gadol and his family. Why must he be atoned for first and his household before affecting atonement for the nation?

 

I have a dangerous habit. I like to read bumper stickers. Sometimes the print is awfully small and in order to read it one has to get close enough, at a traffic light of course. Some are humorous. I saw one that read, “Maybe the Hokey Pokey is really what’s it’s all about!”

 

Somehow I doubt it! Some I find aggravating and absurd. On two sides of the same bumper, one reads, “Pro-Choice” and the other says, “Imagine World Peace”. Hard to visualize both in one picture! Every once in a while I see one that I absolutely agree with. It may even be stating a Torah true principle. Try for example this one, “Think Global! Act Local!” I love it!

 

There are many people with noble intentions, and we know what which road is paved with good intentions, who are actively trying to change the world. There are generally two approaches. Only one has the desired affect while the other tends to do more harm than good.

 

One type is very busy thinking local about them-selves while acting global. They are actually actively trying to change themselves through the world. Absurdly, some imagine that if they improve the world then they will somehow – magically become that much better. If one cannot change himself then how can he hope to change the world?

 

They tend to project their shortcomings and foibles on the world. Then they try to fix those far away problems. It does solve their own personal issues, as their eyes are on the end of the earth. The results of their efforts, as idealistic as they may be, are predictably meager because their real intention is to enrich or improve themselves through a world they cannot help. It’s like someone who is not happy with the way they look so they begin to paint the mirror. While the mirror gets smeared they remain unchanged.

 

The other approach is what the Talmud calls, “the longer way which is a short way”. Thinking global while acting local means – “being the change that you wish to see in the world”. In one place the Talmud expresses it like this, “Fix up yourself first and then others!” In Pirke Avos Hillel famously stated, “If I am not for me who will be for me, and if I am only for me then what am I, and if not now then when!?” If I do not develop myself first then who else can do that for me. If I remain unimproved, then I am trapped in true and deep identity crisis. The point of my fixing my-self is to become a resource to help others who want to develop themselves and help others. If the goal of my-self improvement is just for me, then it is not an identity crisis any more but a humanity crisis, “what am I?!” The reason I work on me is because the world, the people around me, need a better and more resourceful version of me!

 

Reb Yisrael Salanter, the father of the Mussar Movement, declared that when he was young he wanted to change the world. Then he realized there was enough work to do in his community. Later he realized that he needed to cure himself. He ended up changing the world.

 

 

 

Finding The Silver Lining

Parshas Metzorah

Posted on April 4, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Elly Broch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

“When you arrive in the land of Canaan that I give you as a possession, and I will place a tzoraas (1) affliction upon a house in the land of your possession.” (Vayikra/Leviticus 13:33) Tzoraas manifested itself not only in the form of skin blemishes, but also affected clothes and houses in the form of discolorations. This, in certain situations, required burning of the garment or demolition of the entire house.

 

The Midrash expounds that although seemingly counterintuitive, this was good for the owner of the house. The heathen inhabitants who previously lived in the Land of Israel, before abandoning their homes, often concealed their money and possessions in the walls of their houses. Demolition of the house uncovered these treasures, allowing the new Jewish owner to benefit.

 

Yet the Talmud (Eruchin 16a) teaches that this plague came as a punishment for an individual’s indiscretions. If G-d was castigating the wrongdoer, why was it orchestrated that the houses broken down as a punishment would yield treasures?

 

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (2) explains that although the plague came to benefit the house owner with treasure, that objective was possible to achieve without going through the ordeal of destroying their house. The tzoraas experience was demanding and unpleasant, to alert the recipient of his wrongdoing and need for change. The plague worked to achieve both punishment and reward.

 

Rabbi Avigdor Miller (3) further elaborates that the Creator of the World, in His infinite wisdom, has a master plan that our finite human minds cannot fathom. This plan will materialize, and cannot be stopped or frustrated by our decisions and actions. Certain events are destined to occur regardless of our actions, but the sequence or details of the events may be manipulated to teach us a Divine lesson. G-d wished to benefit the house owner by exposing the treasure. At the same time, the individual made choices and committed sins punishable by tzoraas. The tzoraas was a punishment, causing the afflicted to repent and commit to a more spiritual life, while simultaneously fulfilling G-d’s master plan with the discovery of the treasure.

 

We all undergo some misfortune or suffering that appears on the surface to be a negative message from the Divine. However, later reflection upon the events brings the understanding that while they were difficult and challenging, they provided him with a fantastic opportunity for growth and development. The Torah is reminding us of the well known and much experienced axiom: what at the moment may seem like a punishment is, in reality, an opportunity and a treasure.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

Plagues: Personal, Societal and Familial

Parshas Tazria Metzorah

Posted on April 17, 2015 (5775) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

We once again read about types of plagues and dermatological illnesses that create a climate of impunity and negativity. We are no longer privy to the identity and physical appearance of these plagues that are recorded for us in this week’s Torah reading. These plagues are or were unknown to us and they are certainly not the modern form of leprosy, which was the usual understanding of them for number of past centuries. In the absence of true understanding of these plagues and of the existence of the Temple, currently this subject matter is an esoteric one rather than theoretical.

 

Nevertheless, as the Torah is always multi-layered and to be understood on many different levels and planes, there are certainly lessons that we can derive from this week’s Torah reading that are relevant to our lives and society. All of us encounter plagues during our lifetime. They may be physical, mental, spiritual, financial, family associated or work related.

 

The Torah reading divides its litany of plagues into different categories. There are plagues that affect the physical body of the person, while there are others that manifest themselves in the clothing and/or in the structure of the home and residence where the person lives. Many of the commentators to the Torah have seen this division of the plagues that can afflict human beings as being categorized as personal, societal and familial.

 

These three areas of life – one’s own being and body, one’s society and community and one’s family are the areas of life and existence that are most vulnerable to plagues – or troubles. They are also those areas of life that can bring one the most satisfaction and sense of achievement. In the world of the Torah, what is most fragile and potentially impure is also what can be the greatest source of strength and holiness.

 

These three areas of life require constant vigilance and effort to remain healthy, productive and noble. The Torah bids us to care for ourselves. Our bodies and our health are not to be abused or taken for granted. We oftentimes sacrifice our physical well-being for transitory gain and imagined security. This type of attitude creates a plague within us that sooner or later will affect and injure us.

 

Part of the idea of the quarantine that the Torah describes for us in this week’s Torah reading is to give the individual an opportunity to analyze and think about one’s self and how to properly take care of one’s own physical well-being.

 

Next, no person should live in isolation. and belonging to and contributing to a community – synagogues, charitable organizations, study groups, etc. – becomes our clothing, so to speak – the external persona that we project. The great Choni Hamageil of Second Temple times said it well: “if there is no community, then there is only death.”

 

And finally, family obligations should trump all other imagined obligations. There is a responsibility of great magnitude in bringing children into this world. That responsibility for raising, guiding, caring and training one’s own family cannot be shunted off to schools, institutions, peer groups or others. To attempt to do so invites the appearance of plagues in one’s own home. So, we should always be on the lookout to avoid these types of plagues. that do exist and abound in our world.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

 The Stain is Noticeable

Parshas Tazria Metzorah

Posted on April 15, 2021 (5781) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

 

This week’s Torah portion describes a person infected with a Negah – a blemish, which might infect his skin, his clothing, or even the walls of his house. So it is immediately obvious that the “infection” the Torah is describing was a spiritual illness, not medical. A medical condition would not appear on both humans and walls, and would be treated by a medical doctor. The diagnosis of a Negah, on the other hand, was given by a Kohein, a member of the priestly class specially trained to recognize these blemishes.

 

What was the point of having a spiritual kind of leprosy? In G-d’s relationship with the Jewish people, how was it appropriate for them to be afflicted in this way?

 

The Talmud (Arachin 16a) attributes these blemishes to any one of seven causes: negative speech, murder, a false oath, forbidden sexual relations, arrogance, theft, and stinginess. G-d used these blemishes to communicate His objection to these negative activities, both to the infected individual and to those who observed his condition.

 

This disease did not affect everyone who committed these iniquities, and in our time this form of communication does not occur at all. The Negah is a powerful tool for change, and was therefore reserved for people and times of high spiritual caliber. We are simply not on the spiritual level to properly grow and change from having or seeing this illness.

 

But if the Negah no longer afflicts people, and has not for millennia, it begs the question — why are two portions of the Torah almost entirely devoted to the intricate details of how to recognize and treat a spiritual blemish that no longer exists? How is the Torah speaking to us in our generation, when so many words are devoted to a foreign affliction none of us have ever seen?

 

While we may not see these blemishes today, these Torah portions make one thing very clear — our actions always have real consequences. Sometimes we see those effects, but other times we don’t. We might say something to a neighbor that’s insensitive, and wishfully imagine that it didn’t really matter. However, just because they didn’t react to the comment doesn’t mean they didn’t hear it and weren’t hurt by it. They might forgive us for our insensitivity, or they might not, but the words hurt. In former times our treatment of other people might have been revealed to us and the public through a skin blemish or an ugly stain on our home. In our time the same actions can severely damage our souls, our relationships, and our homes — we just don’t always get to see it.

If these are the effects of our negative actions, Judaism teaches us that the consequences of our positive actions and spiritual achievements are many times more potent. By contrast to the Negah, these great spiritual deeds never had a physical manifestation. We do make unfortunate mistakes, but we can always replace them with positive actions to mend our relationships and correct our ways. The effects of our kind words and deeds is not always obvious, but G-d knows and He is keeping score. He is sure to reward us generously.

 

 

Family Vs. Fortune

Parshas Tazria Metzorah

Posted on April 15, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The Torah indirectly, but softly and clearly, speaks to the continuity of the Jewish people and the human race generally, through the idea of having children. It has been statistically shown that as prosperity rises in certain sections of society, the birthrate in that section of society declines. For me, this was always counterintuitive, because if one is prosperous, then one can certainly support more children. If one is almost impoverished, the difficulty of raising and supporting children is much greater.

 

The statistics regarding this matter are borne out by much empirical evidence that we also see in our own personal experience. For some reason, the affluent amongst us wish to retain their affluence by not having to spend money on raising and educating children. Children, to a great extent, impose themselves on the lifestyle, comfort, and wealth of their parents.

 

Having and raising children is a positive act of faith in the future, and the unlimited generosity towards others. The amount of selfishness and narcissism that unfortunately characterize many in our society today accounts, in a great measure, for the large decrease in the birth rate in many westerns cultures and countries. Europe is shrinking population-wise, and it is only the migration of millions from Africa and other parts of the world that keep its labor supply constant and allow it to function. Eventually this phenomenon causes many other societal problems, and many of those problems are already apparent in France, Germany, Italy, and other parts of Europe where there had been an absorption of many immigrants who have not been able to integrate themselves successfully into European society. The United States is not far behind in this critical problem, regarding the numbers and dimension of immigration and its integration, and the shrinking birthright amongst the well-educated and the well-heeled.

 

Judaism has always been pro-family… and pro-large family. King Solomon pointed out to us that the future is unknown, and no parent can predict the success and life of one’s child. Yet what is hidden from us by Heaven, the Talmud says, need not concern us as far as our duties to obey and perform G-d’s commandments. The future is always mysterious, and try as we may, and we certainly do, we are unable to guarantee lives and fortunes of the next generation.

 

The variables in life are so enormous that there is no certainty possible. Having and raising children is a matter of faith and belief that somehow there is a future, and that the children that we bring into this world will be able to manage and benefit from that future.

 

The Torah emphasizes that women have a strong maternal instinct that drives them to wish to have children, despite the immediate discomfort and long-range problems that all children bring to their parents. It is this life force within the woman that guarantees the survival of the Jewish people, and, in effect, the entire human race. In this week’s reading the Torah concentrates on the purity of the woman and her relationship to the Creator through childbirth, for she is “the mother of all life.”

 

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Self Destruction

Parshas Tazria Metzorah

Posted on March 29, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

There is an underlying theme to the message of the Metzora. This spiritual disease that causes discoloration of the skin or of hairs upon the skin, in unpredictable patches is caused by sins of speech ­ gossip, slander and the like. When a person notices the discoloration, he is to immediately approach a kohen and show him the abnormality. It is up to the kohen to not only to determine the status of the affliction, but to actually invoke the status of impurity on the man through his rendition of his adjudication on the matter.

 

The physical affliction of tzora’as is definitely not a contagious one. In fact, the Torah teaches us that there are times that the kohen can hold off on his declaration; e.g. a groom during the week of wedding festivities is spared the humiliation of isolation. If tzora’as were a communicable disease it would surely warrant immediate isolation despite the circumstances.

 

Yet when a man is declared as tamei (impure) he is kept in isolation. The Torah explicitly explains: “All the days that the affliction is upon him he shall remain contaminated; he is contaminated. He shall dwell in isolation; his dwelling shall be outside the camp” (Leviticus 13:46).

 

The question is simple. If the sins of anti-social behavior cause the malady, why is the man isolated? Would it not be better if he is embarrassed within the community and learns to better himself through communal interaction? How will solitude help him cure his societal ills?

 

There is a classic tale of the gentleman who purchased a plane ticket from New York to Los Angeles. The man was quite finicky about traveling, and asked the agent for a window seat. Somehow, he was not placed by the window, rather in the aisle.

 

During the entire trip, he fidgeted and squirmed. Immediately after the long journey the man went straight to complain.

 

“I specifically asked for a window seat,” he exclaimed. “Your agent in New York assured me that I would be getting a window seat. Look at this stub. It placed me right in the aisle!”

The customer relations agent in Los Angeles was not fazed. Unfazed she asked the man, “Did you ask the person in the window seat to trade places?”

This time the man was irate. “I was not able to!”

“And why not?”

“There was no one in the seat.”

 

My grandfather, Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetzky, of blessed memory, in his classic work Emes L’Yaakov explains. People often blame the ramifications of their doings on everyone else but themselves. Truth be told, a person who is afflicted can circumvent confinement by not reporting the negah to the Kohen, or even by pulling out the hairs that are discolored. It is akin to a man who is sentenced to house imprisonment. His hands are tied together with the rope attached to his teeth. He is told to watch himself and not escape.

 

In essence, a personality flaws are merely a Divine wake-up-call. It is heaven’s way of letting an individual know that there is something wrong. It is a personal message and must be taken personally. And so in solitude the man sits and ponders what exactly needs correction.

 

If a person wants to correct himself, he need not cavort with others to do so. If one can remove the barriers of false flattery and social mendacity, he can do a lot better for himself: because self-improvement is dependent upon self-motivation. Without the truth meeting the self, any attempt toward self-improvement may lead to nothing more than self-destruction.

 

Good Shabbos

Dedicated in memory of Judah Leib (Jerry) Lipschitz by Mr. and Mrs. Ben Lipschitz.