A Critical Difference

Parshas Kedoshim

Posted on May 3, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Why do we cringe when our flaws and shortcomings are pointed out to us? Why do we find criticism such a bitter pill to swallow? Logic would seem to dictate the exact opposite. We all want to be the very best we can possibly be, to reach our full potential. Therefore, it is important that we know our flaws in order to correct them, and we should be happy to have them pointed out to us. Why then do we cringe? Why do we feel humiliated?

 

Furthermore, the Torah in this week’s portion commands us, “Do not hate your brother in your heart. Rebuke your friend, and do not bear sin upon him.” There seems to be a contradiction here. On the one hand, the Torah requires us to rebuke others. Yet the Sages tell us that “people who accuse others of shortcomings are themselves guilty of the same flaws,” clearly implying that we should refrain from offering rebuke.

 

The answer lies in a closer reading of the Torah’s commandment. “Rebuke your friend.” Make sure your rebuke is delivered in a spirit of friendship. “Do not bear sin upon him.” Separate the person from the sin. Rebuke the deed, not the person.

 

People who judge and condemn, the Sages add, are generally guilty of the very crimes of which they accuse others. People who are righteous and free of guilt, however, offer constructive criticism in a spirit of friendship.

 

Criticism itself does not humiliate. After all, very few people consider themselves absolutely perfect. Rather, it is the manner in which the criticism is delivered that humiliates. Very often, unfortunately, it is delivered in a mean-spirited, malicious manner, whereby the critic demeans us in order to make himself appear “holier than thou.” It is a put-down, and we instinctively recoil.

 

Constructive criticism, however, delivered in a pure spirit of love and compassion, is always welcome. Indeed, it is one of the primary catalysts of personal growth.

 

In a certain district of Jerusalem, all the storekeepers agreed to close down their stores for Shabbos – except for one grocer. No matter how much pressure was brought on him, he refused to budge.

 

One Friday, one of the prominent Jerusalem sages dressed in his best Shabbos finery and entered the grocery store. He stationed himself on a chair in the back of the store and proceeded to stay there for the entire day, watching the busy hustle and bustle of the grocery shoppers. As evening drew near, the grocer approached the sage and asked, “Is everything all right, rabbi? Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

 

“No,” said the sage. “I have come here because I wanted to understand why you refuse to close your store on Shabbos. Now, it is clear to me. You have such a busy store that it would be a tremendous ordeal for you to close it, even for one day.”

 

The grocer burst into tears. “You are the first one to try to see it from my side,” he managed to say between sobs.

 

“Everyone scolded and berated me, but before you, no one tried to understand me.” After that day, it did not take long before the grocer agreed to close his store on Shabbos. A few kind words had been effective where threats and invective had failed.

 

In our own lives, we often feel a need to criticize others. Before we do so, however, we should ask ourselves: Are we doing it for their good rather than our own? Are our motives pure and compassionate? If the answer is yes, and if we deliver the criticism in a kind and gentle manner, it will undoubtedly be effective. The difference is critical.

 

 

ReJEWvination at the Source

Parshas Metzorah

Posted on April 5, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

As we draw closer to Pesach we are increasingly caught up in the excitement of the upcoming festival and the feverish preparations that herald its imminent arrival. Scrubbing, cleaning (spring cleaning?) cooking and baking are all the order of the day.As strenuous as these activities are, we recognize that they enhance the essential mission of the chag. That mission is encapsulated in the words of our sages: “B’chol dor v’dor chayov odom liros es aztomo keilu hu yotzah mimitzrayim”. In each and every generation we are obligated to see ourselves as if we ourselves are going out of Egypt.

 

The nature of this mission seems to be rather elusive. After all, we have been re-enacting the same scenario for some 3,328 years. What does it mean that we are to see ourselves as if we actually went out of Egypt? How do we transform the Pesach Seder from a commemorative celebration to a transformative experience, in which we leave behind the negative character traits and materialistic drives that represent the ‘little Egypt’ that hold us hostage?

 

Perhaps the answer is to be found in an important message in this week’s Torah portion. In biblical times, a person who had strayed from his Divine mission was afflicted with the plague of tzoraas, and became a “metzora.”

 

The metzorah’s skin discoloration was a natural outgrowth of the person’s transgression and his disconnection from his Divine source. His loshon horah (gossip) had distanced and separated him from his fellow Jews, at the same time driving a wedge between himself and his Creator. As part of his healing process, the metzorah had to undergo a process of purification and teshuva. When this was successfully completed, the affliction mysteriously disappeared from his skin and he was restored to his full health, spiritually and physically.

 

Our bodies have a miraculous Divine property-they naturally heal. Given the right conditions, our bodies will regenerate and cure by themselves. Wounds heal, scars mend and sicknesses run their course, allowing the patient to be nursed back to health. So, it is with our spiritual existence. Even if we err and commit grievous sins, we can be confident in the knowledge that after addressing the source of our errant behavior, making amends and renewing our commitment to G-d, our neshamas can miraculously heal.

 

Rav Shimon Schwab develops this concept further. It is well known, he says, that our bodies are constantly in a state of transformation. Over the course of every few years, each cell in our bodies is cycled out; each molecule and fiber of body mass completes a regeneration process and each blood platelet is replaced. There are trillions of cooperative cells in each human adult; every second millions of blood cells die, to be instantly replaced with fresh substitutes.

 

Externally we continue function and look to one another exactly the same. But our physical beings are constantly being replenished and every few years we have shed the “old” person and become almost entirely a new one!

 

It is this amazing phenomenon, explains Rabbi Schwab, that allows us to appreciate the message of Chazal instructing us to personally experience the Exodus on Seder night in the same way our forefathers assumed a new identity upon leaving Egypt. They were not merely liberated from physical bondage; they were unshackled from the chains of materialism and paganism that constituted the true source of slavery.

 

Don’t accept yourself as the same person as yesterday, the Torah tells us. You can change, you can grow.

 

Perhaps this is the underlying mitzvah of Pesach. We have to see ourselves as if we are actually experiencing an exodus from one dimension into a new one. Although our negative habits and mindset are deeply ingrained in our psyche, we can reconfigure and assume a new spiritual identity. We can grow and mature.

 

Just as our physical being changes, so can our spirit. The Pesach seder is not simply an exercise in education or a celebration of our past. We are not simply jogging our ancient memories. The purpose is rather to use all one’s imaginative powers and spiritual hunger to produce a profound and lasting inner experience-an ennobling re’jew’vination.

 

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos.

Rabbi Naftali Rei

Little Prayers

Parshas Tazria

Posted on April 1, 2022 (5782) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

The Torah portions this week and next are devoted mostly to the spiritual disease of Tzara’as. Tzara’as is a physical blemish found on the body, clothing, or the walls of the house, that is diagnosed by a member of the Jewish priestly class, a Kohein. It is said to primarily be the result of violations of the laws of negative speech – Lashon Hara.

 

The laws regarding the diagnosis and treatment of this spiritual malady are many and complex, but once a person is fully diagnosed with Tzara’as he is called a Metzora and is required to reside outside the community until fully healed. While outside he would call “Tamei, Tamei – Impure, Impure.” to anyone he would see.

 

The Talmud (Shabbos 67a) describes an interesting practice related to his pronouncement: it says that when a person has a fruit tree that is sick and dropping its fruit, he should paint it red. This is not a superstition, but for the sake of drawing attention to the tree, so that others will pray it become healthy again. The tree, just like the Metzora, needs to be healed of its sickness, and the small prayers of the passersby will help lead to the tree’s speedy recovery. The Metzora, similarly, declares himself impure not only to warn people not to touch him and acquire a lesser degree of impurity, but also so they will pray for his recovery.

 

I once heard of a young man studying in a Yeshiva, a rabbinical seminary, who always found outstanding study partners. It is common for Yeshiva students to study Talmud much of the day with various partners – a system that has been shown to improve attentiveness, clarity, and reasoning skills, among other benefits. His friends wondered how this fairly average student managed to arrange for the best and brightest to study with him each semester. One year he was overheard saying on the phone, “Mommy, you can stop praying for me now. I got a great study partner once again. Thank you!” Mystery solved.

 

Judaism prescribes three times a day for formal prayer, but prayer is not limited to the walls of the synagogue, to particular times of day, or to the pages of the Siddur (prayer book). G-d is always present and ready to hear our prayers. Consider even the common salutations like “Be well!”, “Have a Good Day!”, and “Get Well Soon!” They can be more than mere pleasantries we exchange with our acquaintances. At their essence they are prayers, and they too are opportunities to sincerely implore the Al-mighty for the benefit of others. The small prayers we utter for ourselves, and the blessings we give to our family and friends (even our neighbor’s fruit tree), are effective and crucial to their wellbeing and our own spirituality. May we all find opportunities to pray for others, and may all of our prayers be answered for good! 

 

(Based on Be’er HaParsha of Rav Elimelech Biderman, citing Rav Yechezkel Levenstein ztl)

 

 

 

Friends

Parshas Shemini

Posted on March 28, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Pinchas Avruch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

“The sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire pan, they put fire in them and placed incense upon it; and they brought before G-d an alien fire that He had not commanded them. A fire came forth from before G-d and consumed them, and they died before G-d.” (Vayikra/Leviticus 10:1-2) At this moment of great intimacy between G-d and the Jewish Nation, they were, Rashbam (1) explains, motivated to bring the daily incense that Moshe had not yet told anyone to bring.

 

They were unaware that Moshe was waiting for a Heavenly Fire to descend and consume the incense, to have an even greater sanctification of the Divine Name. How could two so righteous individuals have made such a tragic miscalculation?

 

The Medrash Yalkut Shimoni (#524) expounds that “each took his fire pan” indicates that each took his on his own without consulting one another. Each thought they were fulfilling G-d’s will with this bold step. As people of great spiritual measure – as Moshe consoled his brother, “Of this did G-d speak, saying ‘I will be sanctified by those nearest to me…'” (v.3) – they must have given the act great forethought. How would consultation have altered the result? After great contemplation they both came to the same conclusion that it was a great act of piety to bring this alien fire. Would not that conclusion have been further solidified had they consulted with one another?

 

Rabbi Alter Henach Leibowitz (2) explains that the give and take of conversation is not merely an opportunity to confirm previously determined rationales. Rather, the reduction of thoughts and emotions to clear, concise expressions and the verbalization of one’s reasoning and justification compels one to delve deeper into the issue until he discovers the core truth.

 

Indeed, Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers, 6:6) states that one of the forty-eight essential qualities for acquisition of Torah is “friends attentive to detail”. Generally, this is thought of as referring to friends who will correct errors.

 

But from our situation, concludes Rabbi Leibowitz, we comprehend another facet. When one has a friend with whom he can share and discuss his thoughts, the friend’s attention to detail will oblige the speaker to clarify the issues and arrive at the truth.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

 

Where Heaven Meets Earth

Parshas Shemini

Posted on March 23, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Purim is an intensely spiritual twenty-four hours, occupying a higher spiritual realm than even Yom Kippur The elevated frame of mind that is meant to accompany this holy day is unparalleled in the Jewish calendar.

 

The challenge of embracing the spiritual while satisfying the physical is a reflection of the delicate tightrope we are expected to walk throughout our lives-finding a harmonious balance between body and soul.

 

This is one of the major themes of this week’s Torah portion.

 

The first half of the Parsha describes the inauguration of the mishkan in which Nadav and Avihu, the two sons of Aharon, meet an untimely, tragic end. In their great zeal to serve their Creator, they rushed into the Temple with an offering which they were not commanded to bring-an act that invoked immediate Divine retribution.

 

The second major theme of this week’s portion revolves around the various foods that are prohibited. The Torah calls the ingestion of crawling, creeping insects an abomination that defiles the body and forms a barrier between the soul and its heavenly source.

 

The juxtaposition of these two themes tells us much about our mission in life. We are not to live an abstinent life, denying basic human needs to enable the soul to transcend the body. Nor are we to indulge the body in its every physical whim. Instead, we are taught to achieve a singular marriage of body and soul that has the power to forge a wholesome relationship with our Divine Source.

 

All of this is summed up in the last verse of the Torah portion in which Hashem instructs us to create a havdala, separation, between the pure and the impure, between what we are permitted to eat and what we are not.

 

The great Torah sage, Rabbi Meir Shapiro, was once asked his impression of American Jewry after his visit to the United States. In his incisive style he responded, “Here, they know how to make kiddush but they do not know how to make havdala.”

 

Yes, we are quick to embrace that which is sanctified, yet we are not as ready to abstain from that which is profane. To make the division between right and wrong, pure and impure, is indeed one of the greatest challenges of our time.

 

The current worship of “moral equivalence” and humanistic values that try to erase the distinctions between moral and immoral, holy and profane, clears the way for all kinds of degenerate behavior. These hollow rationalizations cannot stand the test of time.

 

The litmus of one’s true humanity is the ability to create the wholesome marriage of body and soul where one first makes “havdala,” differentiating between that which is illusory and transitory and that which is real, solid and eternal. Only then, will we be capable of making Kiddush and becoming a truly holy people.

 

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos

 

 

The Symphony of Life

Pesach

Posted on April 4, 2023 (5783) By Rabbi Pinchas Avruch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

“For a six-day period you shall eat matzos and on the seventh day shall be an assembly to the L-rd, your G-d; you shall not perform any creative work.” (Deuteronomy/Devarim 16:8) This seventh day is the day that G-d split the Sea of Reeds (often mislabeled the Red Sea) for the Jews, and drowned the Egyptians who chased after them. After the Jews were saved, the Torah records the song they sang as thanks to and praise of G-d. This song is prominent in Jewish life; it is repeated in its entirety in our daily morning prayers.

 

The Midrash (Shemos Rabbah 23:4) states that prior to the splitting of the sea no one had sung to G-d as the Jews did in response to this miraculous salvation. Many commentators are troubled by this Midrash since we do have records of earlier songs, including Psalm 92, the psalm honoring the Shabbos day, which is attributed to Adam. What was so unique about the Song at the Sea that our Sages’ consider it the first? And why is there a continued emphasis on that song today?

 

Rabbi Gedaliah Schorr (1) explains that this song excels because it is the first time that the depth and magnificence of the message draws on the full essence of the beauty of music. A song is comprised of many notes – some high, some low, some euphoric, some discordant. Each note on its own is nothing special. The beauty of song is bringing together all the individual notes and chords to create something magnificent. A song without the low notes would lack richness and beauty. Similarly, our own lives are replete with many experiences – high points and low points – that comprise the symphony of life. With our finite, human perspective we do not appreciate the reason for the low points and would prefer the song of life to be without them. All of the songs written in praise of G-d prior to this one were expressions of gratitude for the evident blessings and high points in life.

 

With the Egyptians drowned in the sea and real freedom finally at hand, the Jews now appreciated there was a reason for the decades of suffering they had endured. The low points helped testify to the glory of G-d in the song of life; the song would be incomplete without them. For the first time, a song praising G-d included praising Him for the events one may perceive to be bad. Thus, we continue to emphasize that song today. It constantly reminds us that whether we understand it or not, there is a purpose behind life’s challenges and in due time we will understand and appreciate the beauty of every aspect of our lives.

 

Have a Good Shabbos and Good Yom Tov!

 

 

Gratitude Unlimited

Parshas Tzav

Posted on March 15, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What do released prisoners, recovering patients, seafarers and caravan travelers all have in common? These people have all been in perilous situations, their very lives endangered, and having come through safely, they are required to express their gratitude to Hashem by bringing a thanksgiving sacrifice to the Temple in Jerusalem. The procedure for the thanksgiving offering, the korban todah, is described in this week’s portion.

 

The Midrash provides us with a rather surprising bit of information about the thanksgiving offering. In the End of Days, when the Presence of the Creator will fill the world with holiness and people will live in eternal bliss and serenity, all sacrifices will be discontinued – except for the thanksgiving sacrifice. This immediately leads us to ask:

 

How can this be? If, as the prophets repeatedly assure us, people will be safe and secure, protected from all physical harm and danger, from sickness and imprisonment, how will it be possible for a thanksgiving sacrifice to be brought? The conditions that necessitate such an offering will simply not exist!

 

Let us think for a moment about a phrase most polite people use very often and very casually. What exactly do we mean when we say “thank you” to someone who has done us a good turn? What have we actually given him by thanking him? And why is he gratified? The answers lie in a deeper understanding of gratitude and thanksgiving. In essence, an expression of gratitude is an acknowledgment. By saying “thank you,” we declare that we recognize what the other person has done for us, that we value it and that we do not take him for granted. This is all he needs in return for what he has done – recognition, no more, no less. But a sincere expression of gratitude can only result from a genuine appreciation of the value of what we have received. Without this appreciation, the words “thank you” are but an empty, meaningless formality.

 

If this holds true in our relationships with other human beings, how much more so in our relationship with our Creator. We are endlessly beholden to Him for all the good He does for us, and as a result, we should be endlessly grateful. Unfortunately, however, we live in an unenlightened world of illusions and delusions, and we often fail to recognize the innumerable gifts and bounty that flow to us from Hashem’s generous hand. And even when we pay lip service to it, how deeply do we actually feel it? How real is it to us? The only things we face with stark reality are life-threatening situations. In the face of danger, our affectations and pretensions quickly dissipate, and we realize how dependent we are on our Creator for our safety. As the old adage goes, “There are no atheists in a foxhole.” It is only when we are ultimately delivered from danger that we are capable of expressing genuine gratitude.

 

In the End of Days, however, the Presence of the Creator will illuminate the entire world and dispel all the foolish delusions which so becloud our vision and befuddle our minds. Then we will see Hashem’s hand with perfect clarity, and our acknowledgments of His guidance and benevolence will carry the ring of true conviction. At that point, we will no longer have to face life-threatening situation to inspire genuine gratitude in our hearts. We will thank Him endlessly for every minute detail of our lives and bring thanksgiving sacrifices to give expression to the transcendent feelings of gratitude that will permeate our souls.

 

A great sage once ordered a cup of coffee in an elegant restaurant. When the bill came, he saw he had been charged an exorbitant sum. “So much for a cup of coffee?” he asked the waiter.

 

“Oh no, sir,” the waiter replied. “The coffee cost only a few cents. But the paintings and tapestries on the walls, the crystal chandeliers, the Persian carpets, the luxurious gardens, the marble fountain, these cost a lot of money, and every patron must pay his share.”

 

“Aha!” said the sage. “You have taught me an important lesson.

 

When I recite a blessing over a glass of water, I must thank the Creator for the ground on which I stand, the air I breathe, the blue sky over my head, the beauty and scent of the flowers, the twittering of birds, the company of other people. Thank you.”

 

In our own lives, we all too often take for granted all the blessings we enjoy, and we forget to express our gratitude to our Creator, the Source of all this bounty. Indeed, when we experience hardship, we are inclined to confront Hashem, saying, Oh, why do we deserve this? But when we experience good fortune, are we as inclined to thank Him? Common courtesy, of course, requires that we acknowledge Hashem’s bounty, but if we offer words of gratitude to Hashem in all situations, we will also discover a deeper dimension to our appreciation and enjoyment of the blessings of life.

 

Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

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