The Stuff of Real Life

Parshas Masei

Posted on July 6, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

This week’s Torah portion concludes with an overview of the Jewish nation’s wanderings in the wilderness, as well as key laws and preparations associated with their inheriting the land.

 

Moshe Rabbeinu designated six Levite cities, three in Eretz Yisrael and three in Trans-Jordan, as cities of refuge where an accidental murderer can escape an avenger from the victim’s family.

 

Although his act of homicide was not premeditated, the Torah considers him culpable for being negligent, and not adequately protecting another’s life. The time he spends in the Ir Miklat will enable him to realign his values and correct the habits that led to his negligent behavior. The Levite city was the ideal place to achieve this rehabilitation. The Levites were landless and wholly devoted to teaching and guiding their fellow Jews. Even while in Egypt, the Levites were preoccupied with spiritual advancement, and distanced themselves from the pursuit of material prosperity.

 

Their conduct was emblematic of the highest degree of moral responsibility. Living among people of this caliber would re-educate and sensitize the murderer to the supreme sanctity of human life.

 

The Talmud asks why were there precisely the exact number of “refuge” cities in Trans Jordan as there were in Israel? After all, Trans Jordan was only home to two and a half tribes, while the remaining nine lived in Israel. Why not distribute the cities of refuge in a way that would more accurately reflect the demographics?

 

The Talmud answers that in Trans Jordan there were more homicides and the population’s sensitivity to human life became diminished. The likelihood of accidental murder was therefore greater. The average citizen was less conscious of the need to exert himself to the utmost to protect his fellow Jew; he would be more likely to pursue his own needs at the expense of his fellow citizen.

 

The great sage R’ Itzel of Volozhin offers a different interpretation of the Talmud’s assertion that bloodshed was more prevalent in Trans-Jordan, thus requiring more cities of refuge in that region. The problem, he explains, lay not in the higher incidences of accidental homicide in Trans-Jordan but in the over-eagerness to avenge it. Since the inhabitants of Ever HaYarden were less sensitive to murder, it was far more likely that an accidental killer would be pursued by a family member driven to exact vengeance for unsavory reasons. The Torah therefore provided the perpetrator with more immediate access to an Ir Miklat.

The culture of tolerance toward bloodshed would delude people into thinking they were motivated by moral principles in trying to avenge their relative’s death, when all too often they were simply trying to even the score with a hapless fellow Jew.

 

The underlying message of the portion is that nothing affects our mindset and value system more than our social environment. We are all conditioned by repeated and constant exposure to the prevailing culture. Harmful outside influences can easily pollute our ability to distinguish right from wrong and can easily desensitize us from appreciating the value and sanctity of every humans life.

 

This underscores the importance of ensuring that our homes are bastions of light, joy and an appreciation for the kedusha of Klal Yisroel. These values must permeate the atmosphere to the point where they are imprinted on the minds and hearts of our children. Only by building our homes according to the Torah’s blueprint can we turn them into lighthouses of positive energy. They will thus become the miniature ‘cities of refuge’ that will protect ourselves and our families from the steady onslaught of moral decay and corruption in the surrounding culture.

 

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos

Rabbi Naftali Reich Text Copyright © 2014 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

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

 

 

 

In Control

Parshas Pinchas

Posted on June 29, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Yochanan Zweig | Series: Rabbi Zweig on the Parsha | Level: Intermediate Beginner

“On the seventeenth of Tammuz the Tablets were broken” (Ta’anis 26a)

 

Five calamities occurred on the seventeenth of Tammuz. The first of these calamities is recorded in the Torah. Upon descending the mountain after having received the Decalogue, Moshe witnessed Bnei Yisroel celebrating the creation of the golden calf and he shattered the Tablets[1]. The verse describes the Tablets as “charus” – “engraved[2].” The Mishna states that the word “charus” can also be read as “cheirus” – “freedom”, for only the study of Torah brings true freedom[3]. Therefore, the breaking of the Tablets reflects a loss of freedom for the Jewish people[4]. What is the difference between the secular definition of freedom and that of the Torah? How do we reconcile the “pshat”, the straightforward reading of the text as “charus” – “engraved”, with the “derush”, the homiletic interpretation as “cheirus” – “freedom”?

 

Freedom is often defined as our right or privilege to act or express ourselves without coercion in whichever manner we desire. The Torah’s definition of freedom is cognizant of the fact that very often we behave in a manner which hides under the guise of freedom of expression, yet in reality we are submitting to coercive forces. Whether our actions are influenced by societal pressures or by our physical or emotional desires, these actions cannot be described as completely free from coercion. We ourselves are aware of the destructive nature of our actions but are helpless to overcome the deceptions of societal acceptance and self-gratification. The pursuit of Torah not only empowers the individual with the ability to overcome any coercive forces, but also removes the conflict that exists in the decision making process, synthesizing the individual’s visceral sense to behave appropriately with his desires. Being bound by restrictions does not imply a lack of freedom; restrictions are not only ultimately for our benefit, but they prevent us from taking actions which we truly wish to avoid.

 

The words of the Decalogue (10 Commandments) symbolize spirituality and the Tablets themselves, that which is physical. Had the Decalogue been described as ink, which is scripted upon parchment, this would imply imposition of the words upon the Tablets. Chazal teach us that Hashem miraculously caused the letters of the Decalogue to suspend themselves within the Tablets. The Tablets wrapped themselves around the words, conforming to them[5]. This reflects the complimentary nature of the physical and the spiritual which can coexist without any conflict.

 

We all have a natural tendency to behave in an appropriate manner. The Torah removes the impediments that mask our true feelings, breaking through the misconceptions and misguided value system which society creates for us.

 

It Takes a Family…

Parshas Pinchas

Posted on July 14, 2017 (5777) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

These were the numbers of the Levites according to their families: the family of the Gershonites from Gershon, the family of the Kohathites from Kohath, the family of the Merarites from Merari. These were the families of Levi: the family of the Libnites, the family of the Hebronites, the family of the Mahlites, the family of the Mushites, the family of the Korahites and Kehat begot Amram. (Bamidbar 26:57-58)

 

I think I detect a theme. In these two verses the word or some derivative of this word is used 10 times, “MISHPACHA”- “family”. The Nation of Israel is built almost entirely on this single organizational principle, family. Therefore it might prove worthwhile to gain an appreciation of the meaning of that one Hebrew word, “MISHPACHA”.

 

The word MISHPACHA is related to the word SHIFCHA which oddly means a maidservant. How does that help define a family?

 

A senior colleague told me that that when he was a young man pursuing his doctorate in philosophy a professor made the bold declaration; “The Jewish Bible is the source of human rights in the world!” All of the students diligently wrote it down in their notebooks but this curious fellow who was the only Jew in the class, promptly approached the teacher and challenged him, “Where is it written in the Jewish Bible any verse that promises human rights?”

 

The professor wondered if he in fact agreed with his claim that the Jewish Bible is the source of human rights in the world. The student agreed wholeheartedly. He was merely curious as to what the source might be.

 

This was a case of the student giving the teacher a homework assignment. A week later he came back to class and admitted that he could not find a single verse that supported his statement. He was mystified. Everybody in the history department agreed. The literature department, and the sociology department agreed too. So, he fed the question back to his student, “Maybe you have the answer!”

 

This budding young scholar answered as follows: “Let’s take for example one verse, that great-general principle in the Torah “And you should love your neighbor as your-self!” The implication of that statement is that everyone has a right to be loved. When I walk into a room, since you are all obligated to love me, I have a right to be loved! The only difference is that the Torah never came as a “bill of rights” but rather as a “bill of responsibilities””.

 

Imagine how much more love exists in a relationship when both parties know what they owe in love as opposed to when each demands that their rights be met. How much more love is in the room when every member of a family knows that they are duty bound to love and happily contribute. How much greater is an entire community or a nation when it is composed of individuals who live up to this universal notion and categorical imperative to “love your neighbor as your-self”!

 

A family is a place where people learn to serve each other. On any given Erev Shabbos someone is sweeping and someone else is polishing shoes, while another person is peeling potatoes. Everyone contributes! A family is a microcosm of a whole world and is its most fundamental building block. How so? It is the training ground that prepares people for life in the greater community. Each home has its own signature style, and cultural flavor, but this quality of serving others is an immutable standard.

 

How important is a family? When my wife and I were just beginning to look for a match for our oldest son, we decided to call my Rebbe for guidelines. He is a huge Talmud scholar and he had already married off 13 children. We were ready for a long list. He answered the phone and we explained the reason for our call. He said without hesitation and emphatically, “Look for a family! A girl comes from a family!” I asked, “Is there anything else?” He said, “No! That’s it! Good night!” We were stunned. Some have said “it takes a village to raise a child” but I think we can declare with certainty and appreciate the simple fact it takes a family…

 

It Takes a Family…

Parshas Pinchas

Posted on July 14, 2017 (5777) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

These were the numbers of the Levites according to their families: the family of the Gershonites from Gershon, the family of the Kohathites from Kohath, the family of the Merarites from Merari. These were the families of Levi: the family of the Libnites, the family of the Hebronites, the family of the Mahlites, the family of the Mushites, the family of the Korahites and Kehat begot Amram. (Bamidbar 26:57-58)

 

I think I detect a theme. In these two verses the word or some derivative of this word is used 10 times, “MISHPACHA”- “family”. The Nation of Israel is built almost entirely on this single organizational principle, family. Therefore it might prove worthwhile to gain an appreciation of the meaning of that one Hebrew word, “MISHPACHA”.

 

The word MISHPACHA is related to the word SHIFCHA which oddly means a maidservant. How does that help define a family?

 

A senior colleague told me that that when he was a young man pursuing his doctorate in philosophy a professor made the bold declaration; “The Jewish Bible is the source of human rights in the world!” All of the students diligently wrote it down in their notebooks but this curious fellow who was the only Jew in the class, promptly approached the teacher and challenged him, “Where is it written in the Jewish Bible any verse that promises human rights?”

 

The professor wondered if he in fact agreed with his claim that the Jewish Bible is the source of human rights in the world. The student agreed wholeheartedly. He was merely curious as to what the source might be.

 

This was a case of the student giving the teacher a homework assignment. A week later he came back to class and admitted that he could not find a single verse that supported his statement. He was mystified. Everybody in the history department agreed. The literature department, and the sociology department agreed too. So, he fed the question back to his student, “Maybe you have the answer!”

 

This budding young scholar answered as follows: “Let’s take for example one verse, that great-general principle in the Torah “And you should love your neighbor as your-self!” The implication of that statement is that everyone has a right to be loved. When I walk into a room, since you are all obligated to love me, I have a right to be loved! The only difference is that the Torah never came as a “bill of rights” but rather as a “bill of responsibilities””.

 

Imagine how much more love exists in a relationship when both parties know what they owe in love as opposed to when each demands that their rights be met. How much more love is in the room when every member of a family knows that they are duty bound to love and happily contribute. How much greater is an entire community or a nation when it is composed of individuals who live up to this universal notion and categorical imperative to “love your neighbor as your-self”!

 

A family is a place where people learn to serve each other. On any given Erev Shabbos someone is sweeping and someone else is polishing shoes, while another person is peeling potatoes. Everyone contributes! A family is a microcosm of a whole world and is its most fundamental building block. How so? It is the training ground that prepares people for life in the greater community. Each home has its own signature style, and cultural flavor, but this quality of serving others is an immutable standard.

 

How important is a family? When my wife and I were just beginning to look for a match for our oldest son, we decided to call my Rebbe for guidelines. He is a huge Talmud scholar and he had already married off 13 children. We were ready for a long list. He answered the phone and we explained the reason for our call. He said without hesitation and emphatically, “Look for a family! A girl comes from a family!” I asked, “Is there anything else?” He said, “No! That’s it! Good night!” We were stunned. Some have said “it takes a village to raise a child” but I think we can declare with certainty and appreciate the simple fact it takes a family…

 

 

The Seesaw Principle

Parshas Balak

Posted on July 1, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. This was apparently the philosophy of Balak, King of Moab, when he was faced with the vast multitude of the Jewish people approaching his lands. Terror-stricken, he sent messengers to summon Bilam, the famous sorcerer, to come to Moab and curse the Jewish people.

 

Balak led Bilam to a high promontory from which they saw the entire Jewish encampment. Balak gleefully rubbed his hands together in anticipation of Bilam’s potent curses, but to his astonishment, blessings rather than curses poured forth from Bilam’s mouth.

 

Frustrated, Balak took Bilam to a different vantage point from which he could only see the edge of the encampment. Once again, Balak implored Bilam to curse the Jewish people, and once again, he could only speak blessing rather then curses.

 

Finally, Bilam turned to face the Wilderness and managed to utter some vague, ineffectual curses.

 

The commentators are puzzled. Why did Bilam repeatedly narrow his focus on the Jewish people after each failure to curse them?

 

A quick look into this week’s Torah portion brings Bilam’s character into sharp relief. His most striking features were his bloated ego and his insatiable hunger for flattery. People seeking constant self-aggrandizement generally tend to disparage and humiliate others. Whether consciously or subconsciously, they feel superior only when they diminish other people. By putting others down, their own egos are by contrast inflated. They view life like a seesaw, with themselves on one side and the world on the other. If the other side goes down, they go up.

 

Balak understood this aspect of Bilam’s character, and he played on it. At first, he brought Bilam to a point where he could see the entire people. If Bilam could curse and disparage an entire people, what a surge his ego would enjoy. But he was unsuccessful. Conceding failure, he narrowed his focus to only part of the people, concentrating on individuals in the hope that their shortcomings would be more glaring. Once again he was unsuccessful, and therefore, he narrowed his focus even more by cursing the people even though he was unable to highlight any particular fault. But even these curses were ineffectual, because Hashem protects the righteous.

 

Two businessmen were once sitting in a bar, discussing the state of the world.

“You know,” said the first man, “if you really think about it, there are really only two classes of people in the world – our countrymen and foreigners. And we both know that all foreigners are totally worthless.”

 

“Of course,” said the second man. “But even among our countrymen there is clear division into two classes. The city dwellers and the peasants.”

 

“Exactly,” said the first man. “And we both know that peasants are worse than useless. Only city dwellers are worth anything at all. But even among city dwellers, there are two classes – intellectuals and businessmen.”

 

“I totally agree,” said the second man. “Intellectuals are pointy headed fools. Totally useless. Only businessmen have any worth.”

 

“But not all businessman are worthy,” said the first man. “Plenty of them are nothing more than bumbling fools.”

 

“I agree,” said the second man. “In fact, if you really think about it. You can probably rule out just about every businessman on one count or another. I guess, that just leaves us with me and you, my friend.”

 

“Exactly,” said the first man, “and just between you and me, we both know perfectly well that you’re nothing but a windbag.”

 

In our own lives, we may sometimes find ourselves bring inadvertently critical of other people or even entire ethnic or racial groups. Perhaps we would do well to look into ourselves to find the source of these sentiments. Why in the world should we be flirting with mean-spiritedness and bigotry? Why should we be so eager to highlight other people’s flaws? More likely than not, these are sign of latent insecurities which mistakenly lead us to think we can secure ourselves better by undermining others. In actuality, however, tearing other people down only diminishes and demeans us, while looking at them in a positive light enhances our spirits and brings us the serenity and satisfaction of recognizing our own true worth.

 

Text Copyright © 2010 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

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

 

Balak’s Blind Hatred

Parshas Balak

Posted on June 23, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

The Talmud incisively comments that it is not the mouse that is a thief, but, rather, it is the hole in the wall that allows the mouse entry into the house that is the culprit. There is no question that the villain in this week’s Torah reading is Bilaam. His hatred of the Jewish people is long-standing. He was one of the advisors to the Pharaoh of Egypt who encouraged that tyrant to enslave the people of Israel. Even though it is obvious, even for him, that the will of heaven is that he should not accept the invitation of Balak to embark of the mission of cursing the Jewish people, he forces the issue, and accepts the mission willingly and enthusiastically.

 

Even a talking donkey cannot sway him from pursuing his evil path and destination. Yet, it is Balak who initiates the entire scenario. He is, so to speak, the hole that allows the thieving mouse Bilaam to enter a situation that will enable him to curse the Jewish people. Balak is the king of Moav and was guaranteed by heavenly decree that his land would not be invaded or annexed by the people of Israel, as his ancestors were descended from Lot, the nephew of Abraham.

 

Because Lot kept faith with Abraham when they were in Egypt and did not inform against Abraham and Sarah, he was afforded almost continual protection and a guarantee that his descendants would not be harmed by the descendants of Abraham. According to the Midrash, even though Balak is aware of all of this, he is still determined to destroy the Jewish people by whatever means are required. And the curses of Bilaam are one part of the plan.

 

We are taught that hatred is unreasoning, illogical, destructive, and devoid of any rational behavior. All human history shows us the truth of this Talmudic observation. Hatred leads not only to the destruction of those hated but is equally destructive to the hater as well.

Even after the failure of the mission of Bilaam and the clear realization that the Lord is protecting the Jewish people, Balak searches for other means to annihilate the Jews. He makes a covenant with ostensibly the mightiest king in that area and of that time, Sichon, the head of the tribe of the Emorites. And Sichon will dutifully set out to attack and destroy the Jewish people. He is defeated by the Jewish nation, and because Balak and Moav entrusted their sovereignty and independence to Sichon, with his defeat, the lands of Moav also fall under Jewish sovereignty.

 

This is illustrative of the power of hatred. People will surrender their own rights and property in the mistaken belief that their hatred will somehow translate into the annihilation of their enemy. The whole exercise of the hatred by Balak of the Jewish people transforms itself into his own defeat and demise. Hatred blinds the eyes of even the most previously wise and powerful.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

  

For Irrational Humans

Parshas Chukas

Posted on July 6, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

 

The Torah reading of this week deals with a ritual in the Temple – that of the Red Heifer – which is characterized as being a commandment beyond the ken of human understanding and rational interpretation. It remains a primary example of certain commandments that, at their very core, are not easily interpreted or made relevant to human behavior, nor to moral understanding and judgment.

 

The Torah itself calls this commandment a chok, which must be obeyed without question or doubt, for it is beyond human comprehension and understanding to genuinely appreciate and value its essence and purpose. This is the reason the entire Torah reading of this week is called Chukat – the law and commandments of the Torah for which no explanation will be given.

 

If we review previous narrative portions of the Torah that we have read and studied over the past weeks, we can easily conclude that all the events that were described – the murmurings, rebellions, false reports and evil speech and the crimes against Moshe and Aaron also fit the category of being a chok – something irrational, inexplicable and beyond logical comprehension.

 

We all believe, somehow, that we live in a rational world, and that we can make rational decisions based upon knowledge, facts, experience, and history. However, the truth is that very few of our decisions are made rationally and are often based on other factors on a constant and recurring basis. Human behavior is almost by definition irrational and inexplicable. It is because of this truth that the Torah gives us laws and commandments that are rational and mysterious, to match our human moods and decision-making processes.

 

We can easily understand that if it were not for the Torah itself guiding us through life, giving us daily support, guidance, and stability, certainly the national life of the Jewish people would be chaotic in the extreme. It is this chaos of irrational behavior which is universally present amongst all people in the world, which leads to the fall of empires and to catastrophic decisions brought about by irrational policies and a great deal of human arrogance.

 

It is noteworthy to see that in world history, almost all the major empires of the world collapsed and eventually fell because of internal pressures of the society rather than by actual external aggression. These pressures are caused by human nature, both emotionally and ideologically. Once the original basis and emphasis that brought about success and growth in the Empire dissipated, because of the irrational behavior of leaders of these empires, the collapse of those would not be long in coming.

 

I have always found it to be ironic that the most irrational of all creatures – human beings – have the audacity to criticize Jewish tradition as not being rational or easily explained in so-called “factual” terms. It is the purpose of the Torah to instruct us, guide us, and constrain us. It is the purpose of the Torah to counter human irrationality with a form of heavenly certainty that is beyond our understanding. History has proven this assertion correct.

 

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Everyday Miracles

Parshas Chukas

Posted on June 15, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Pinchas Avruch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

 

The Mishna (Rosh HaShanah 3:8) notes the similarity between the raised hands of Moshe during the battle with Amalek and the copper snake atop the staff that induced healing for those bitten by the serpents following their complaint against G-d’s justice. “And it happened that when Moshe raised his hand Israel was stronger and when he lowered his hand Amalek was stronger.” (Shemos/Exodus 17:11) But could Moshe’s hands wage a battle or lose a battle?

 

Rather this is to teach that whenever Israel looked on high and subjugated their heart to their Father in Heaven they prevailed, but if not they failed. Likewise, we understand, “G-d said to Moshe, ‘Make yourself a fiery serpent and place it on a pole and it will be that anyone who was bitten will look at it and live.'” (Bamidbar/Numbers 21:8)

 

Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler (1) comments that these events demonstrate the incredible power inherent in a tangible image to impact the heart, for without such images it would be impossible for a person to focus and indoctrinate into the depths of his heart the spiritual concepts he has learned. The importance of this truth is why the Torah so strongly emphasizes the psychological effect of a physical icon.

 

Rabbi Dessler explains that the potential that comes from looking heavenward is the contemplation of the capacity for evil that is called “Amelek”. The nation of Amelek is the living manifestation of this awful force, but the capability for such malice is latent in everyone. Witnessing Moshe’s hands heavenward inspired the warriors’ reflection on their own deeds and attitudes, as did the meditation of the Jewish Nation on the copper snake.

 

Rabbi Dessler further explains that this clarifies the rationale for the Torah’s choice of Hebrew verbiage to reference the pole – “nais” – a word that is commonly used to refer to a miracle.

 

One who contemplates the delicacy and magnificence of an orchid or the human eye appreciates that “nature” is simply the miracles to which we are accustomed due to our constant exposure. This familiarity serves to cloud our perception of the Divine in nature, such that we accept the tangible as being no more complex than its appearance indicates. Spiritual forces and consequences are easily missed and ignored. The departure from nature, that which people call “a miracle”, is the suspension of the order of nature to allow one to comprehend G-d’s role in the world and appreciate the reality of spiritual forces at play around us. One who ponders this concept realizes that those spiritual forces of miracles are no less present even when nature proceeds as one expects.

 

Thus, the world “nais” is used to describe the staff upon which the fiery snake was affixed.

G-d has His plan for Creation, and our actions do not determine the outcome of events. Indeed, our responsibility during our time in this world is not to accomplish, but to make the right decisions – G-d conscious decisions – in our effort to succeed. But that does not mean our choices are meaningless. Our decision to either foster a relationship with the Divine or allow the strength of that bond to weaken and fissure impacts the spiritual realm in concrete, but humanly indiscernible, ways. Our Jewish lives are filled with icons – a Torah scroll, tzitzis strings, a mezuzah on the doorpost – to assist us in keeping our focus, to remind us of the spiritual forces and consequences, to serve as the “nais” that refreshes our appreciation of life’s daily miracles.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

 

(1) in Michtav Me’Eliyahu, his collected writings and discourses; 1891- 1954; of London and B’nai Brak, one of the outstanding personalities and thinkers of the Mussar movement.

---

Text Copyright © 2004 by Rabbi Pinchas Avruch and Torah.org.

Kol HaKollel is a publication of The Milwaukee Kollel Center for Jewish Studies · 5007 West Keefe Avenue · Milwaukee, Wisconsin · 414-447-7999

 

 

Handing Over the Mantle

Parshas Chukas

Posted on June 17, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein-Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

The fate of the generation that left Egypt and came to the Sinai desert is finally sealed in this week’s Torah reading. Even though we already read in last week’s Torah portion about the disaster and eventual demise of that generation because of the slanderous report of the Spies that visited the land of Israel, Moshe somehow was convinced that he himself would escape their fate. He appears to be confident that he will yet lead his beloved people into the promised land of Israel.

 

However, as we read in the Torah, the Lord informs Moshe that he also will not enter the land of Israel. The Torah does give us a reason for this harsh decree against the greatest of all prophets and leaders. Moshe chose to strike the rock to bring forth water instead of complying with the heavenly order speak to the rock. At first glance, we are certainly troubled by this seemingly asymmetrical form of judgment and punishment. The retribution for this sin seems to be far too harsh, especially when we consider the decades of service, sacrifice and loyalty that Moshe previously exhibited in his relationship with the Almighty.  Simply put, it seems unfair. The punishment does not seem to fit the crime.

 

This issue has vexed Jewish minds over the ages. It is almost as though the Torah is purposely writing a real cause-and-effect relationship regarding Moshe and the land of Israel. Because of this intuitive feeling of uneasiness about the true nature of this incident, many varied explanations and commentaries have been offered over the ages.

Maimonides described the real crime as being the tendency to become angry, and anger always leads to a ruptured relationship with the Almighty and eternity. Others have pointed out that it was not so much the behavior of Moshe, as it was that this was the appropriate time when Joshua should have taken over the mantle of leadership. Every generation has its leaders, and leaders of previous generations, no matter how great they may have been, are not destined to serve as leaders of later generations.

 

It is this rule of history and of human nature that governs this situation. The fact that Moshe struck the rock is not the essential reason that some commentators believe that a new generation demanded new leadership to be successful. Another nuance added to this explanation is that the leader of each generation is responsible for what happens to that generation. Therefore, it is obvious that if the generation that Moshe redeemed from Egypt and led through the desert of Sinai was not going to merit entering the land of Israel, then its leader, no matter how great and noble a person he may have been, must share the same fate of the generation that he so faithfully led.

 

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein