Tatooed
With Faith
Parshas Ki Savo
In this week’s Torah Portion, the Torah outlines
in detail how Moshe Rabbeinu prepared the people for their entry into the
Promised Land. He first wrote and expounded the Torah in seventy languages. He
then commanded the nation that immediately upon their crossing of the Jordan
River and entry into the land of Israel, they were to assemble respectively on
the two mountains of Grezim and Aival that faced one another. Moshe goes on to
outline a dramatic ceremony that would take place at that august assembly. The
people were to split in two groups; six tribes on each mountain, while the
Levites were to stand in the valley in between. The Levites were to proclaim a
selection of the Torah’s laws, after each commandment declaring, “Blessed is
the one who keeps this Law and cursed is the one who doesn’t.”
After each declaration, the people were to respond
in a thunderous “Amen,” enunciating their uncompromising faith that upholding
the Torah’s mitzvos generates blessing and abandoning the mitzvos brings curse.
Furthermore, the Torah informs us that before the Jordan Riven crossing, Moshe
translated the Torah into seventy languages, demonstrating that the Torah’s
Laws transcend geographic boundaries and culture. Wherever the wandering Jew
will find himself, his commitment to Torah and his performance of the Divine mitzvos
will be absolutely binding.
The question is obvious: would it not have been
more appropriate for the Jewish people to make their declaration of faith
immediately following the Sinai revelation? Wouldn’t that occasion have been
most suitable for Moshe to impress upon them the universality and timelessness
of the Torah’s mandates?
The Sfas Emes explains that during the 40-year
sojourn in the wilderness, the nation lived on a miraculous plane of existence
that has no parallel in the history of mankind. The Heavenly food they ingested
was entirely absorbed in their bodies-leaving no waste material. They were
accompanied by a Heavenly cloud by day and a pillar of fire at night. Their
clothing and shoes grew with them. They witnessed daily miracles and traveled
according to instructions from the Divine Word. Surrounded by constant evidence
of Divine Providence, they inhabited a spiritual incubator in which G-d’s
existence was clear and undisputable.
The purpose of this 40-year odyssey was to
condition the nation for the true goal of their existence: entering into the
Promised Land and taking part in the world of agriculture and commerce, while
trusting that His Divine Grace would bring the rain and yield a bountiful
harvest. Once established in the land, they were required to leave their homes
each festival to travel to Jerusalem, all the while trusting in Hashem that
their undefended borders and national vulnerability would not be exploited by
the neighboring countries.
It was therefore only once they had taken up
residence in the Promised Land that the true meaning of their existence was to
be realized. Thus it was only at that point that they needed to impress upon
their hearts the declaration of pure faith on the mountains of Grizim and
Aival. Only now was it critical that they absorb the message that the Torah can
never, under any circumstances, be watered down or altered in any manner.
The theme of recognizing Hashem’s guiding Hand in
all circumstances is underscored in the laws governing the recitation of the
Shema, our national declaration of faith, and the prayers surrounding this
recitation.
Our sages tell us the Shema is to be recited
both in the morning and evening. After the morning’s recitation, we continue
with “Emes V’Yatziv, it is true and correct.” At night we recite “Emes
V’Emunoh, it is true and we have faith.” During daytime, we witness the
Creator’s presence everywhere in creation. The magnificent foliage, blossoming
trees, and the plethora of animal life all testify to the Al-mighty. At night,
however, this clarity of vision is absent and His presence is concealed. It is
at night when the darker forces of nature emerge and prowl under the protection
of darkness.
Our lives, too, fluctuate
between moments of light and clarity and moments of darkness. However, our
faith does not depend on the concrete, minute-to-minute manifestation of His
presence. Even when He is concealed, even in times of darkness when we don’t
experience the same keen awareness of His providence, we declare our faith in His
oneness with the same fervency. This loyalty and tenacity to the principles of
Jewish belief have kept our faith alive throughout the centuries.
The Satmar Rav zt”l left his many students who
resided in the newly founded State of Israel to relocate in New York. His
Chassidim were distraught and beseeched him to stay. “Rebbe,” they said, “who
will bless us? To whom can we go for strength and courage in times of
challenge?” He pointed to a Holocaust survivor who was putting away his
Tefillin after the morning prayers. “Look over there,” said the Rebbe, pointing
to the tattoo on the man’s arm. “Someone who bears a tattoo from the Holocaust
and despite what he endured, is still a loyal Jew who keeps Torah and mitzvos –
that is a person to whom you can approach for a blessing.”
This well-known story is somewhat difficult to
understand. As heroic as it is to maintain one’s beliefs under hellish
circumstances, is it enough to qualify the person to accept a kvittel and to
beseech for Divine intervention? Can this elevate a person to the status of a
Rebbe, who, according to Chasidic tradition, is graced with a special “direct
line” to Hashem?
The answer is yes, indeed. When a Jew has his
faith tested in the crucible of suffering, and despite the utter concealment of
G-d’s presence, the sufferer clings tenaciously to the Jewish faith, that is a
crowning spiritual achievement that cannot be surpassed. This individual’s
faith is so deeply embedded, he was able to overcome the need most of us have
for a direct manifestation of Hashem’s presence to fortify our faith.
A faith that endures even without such
reinforcement attests to the sublime level a Jew can reach. May we merit to
nurture our faith to the degree where it can weather all challenges and remain
strong even in the face of life’s greatest challenges.
Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos,
Rabbi Naftali Reich Text Copyright © 2012 by
Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.
The
Root Of Unhappiness
Parshas Ki Savo
Posted on August 22, 2013 (5773) By Rabbi Yochanan Zweig | Series:
Rabbi Zweig on the Parsha
| Level: Beginner
“Because you did not serve Hashem, your G-d,
with happiness and goodness of heart, when you had everything in
abundance”(28:47)
The Torah attributes all of the horrific curses
which will befall Bnei Yisroel to not serving Hashem with happiness. The
complaint is not that we will not serve Hashem, rather, although we will serve
Him, the stress is upon the fact that it will not be done with happiness. Citing the Zohar, the
Ramban teaches that the admonition in this week’s parsha refers to the period
of the second Beis Hamikdash through its destruction and the subsequent exile.1
The Talmud states that the second Beis Hamikdash (Temple)
was destroyed because of “sinas chinam” – “baseless hatred”.2 This
would appear to contradict the reason offered by the Torah, that the
destruction was precipitated by Bnei Yisroel’s not serving Hashem with
happiness. How do we reconcile this contradiction?
The Torah attests to the fact that we were
unhappy, even though we had everything. This is mirrored by the contemporary
phenomena, which finds a high percentage of depressed and disenchanted people
to be those who enjoy success and high social standing. Why do people who
apparently have everything that life has to offer, still exhibit a lack of
happiness?
A person can only be truly
happy if he appreciates what Hashem has given him. However, if a person is
egocentric, considering himself deserved of all that he has, he will not be
content by that which is already his; rather, he will be focused on those
things which are not yet his, but to which he feels entitled. If a person goes
through life with the attitude that everyone owes him, he will constantly be
miserable, never satisfied with what he has. Furthermore, since he feels he is
entitled to everything that he desires, a person who has something he desires
becomes an immediate threat to him. He begins loathing that person for no
reason other than the perception he maintains that that person is withholding
from him an object which should rightfully be his. It is this type of loathing
that the Talmud defines as baseless hatred.
Consequently, baseless hatred can be traced back
at its inception to our lack of appreciation for what Hashem has done and
continues to do for us. Therefore, sinas chinam is not a different reason than
the reason offered by the Torah as to what precipitated the destruction of the
Temple; it is a manifestation of being unhappy when serving Hashem.
1.28:42 2.Yoma 9b
The
Little Voice
Parshas Ki Savo
Joyous enthusiasm is the child of inspiration. It
is the emotional elixir that galvanizes, energizes, electrifies our lives. It
empowers us to move mountains and make impossible dreams come true. Without
joy, we plod mechanically toward our goals, seeking relief rather than
fulfillment, but with joy we soar toward glittering mountaintops.
Clearly then, joy is a critical factor in our
service of the Creator. It infuses every observance, every prayer, every moment
of study with a divine energy that brings us that much closer to our Father in
Heaven. One of the Chassidic masters once said, “Joy is not a commandment, but
no commandment can accomplish what joy can.”
But what if a person cannot achieve joy? What if a
person is overwhelmed by the vicissitudes of life and is unable to free his
spirit and let it soar? Surely, he does not deserve to be condemned and
chastised for this failure. Surely, he should continue to serve the Creator to
the best of his ability even if his efforts are less than inspired.
Let us now look for a moment into this week’s
Torah portion. The Torah describes the terrible consequences of the disloyalty
of the Jewish people to their Father in Heaven. How does the Torah characterize
this disloyalty? “Because you did not serve Hashem your Lord with joy.” How can
this be? How can the Torah deliver such harsh punishment for the failure to
achieve a high standard of excellence?
Some commentators resolve this perplexing problem
homiletically. They read the verse as follows, “Because you did not serve
Hashem your Lord – with joy.” It is not the absence of joy which is deserving
of punishment but rather the presence of inappropriate joy. It is one thing to
fall short in the service of Hashem, to fall victim to the weakness of the
flesh. But it is quite another to revel in sinfulness, to delight in the
saccharine juices of forbidden fruit. This is an unconscionable affront to the
Creator and it is deserving of the most severe punishment.
Modern psychology has made
the eradication of guilt one of its primary objectives. But in the Torah,
perspective, guilt a very valuable trait, is a true blessing. The insistent
voice of our conscience reminds us who we are and where our responsibilities
lie. Whenever we step over the line, this same little voice berates and
chastises us, and more often than not, it robs us of the pleasures of sin. No
matter how far we stray, guilt is our lifeline to Hashem.
Should we, however, find unmitigated joy in a
sinful life, it would be a clear sign that the inner voice of conscience had
been quashed, that our innate guilt had been expunged from our hearts, that our
connection to Hashem had been severed, Heaven forbid. In this case, only the
most severe afflictions could effect a reconciliation.
A king was angry with his son for neglecting
his princely duties. He decided to discipline him by banishing him incognito to
a remote village.
When the prince arrived
in the village of his banishment, he was mortified. The place was a collection
of rude huts without the most basic comforts and refinements of polite society.
There were no books or works of art for miles around. The people were vulgar
and ignorant. The stench in the streets was overpowering.
A year passed, and the
king began to reconsider his decree of banishment against the young prince. But
first he sent spies to see how the prince was faring.
The spies arrived in the
village, but it was a while before they located the prince sitting among a
group of peasants in a barnyard. The once handsome and elegant young prince was
filthy and dressed in vermin-infested rags. He was stuffing his face with half
raw meat, the red juices running down his chin. Every few minutes, he would
roar with laughter at one or another of the coarse peasant stories that were
being bandied about. The spies immediately returned to the palace to report on
what they had seen.
When the king heard their
report, he wept. “If my son is happy among the peasants, he will never be a
prince.”
In our own lives, we know all too well how
difficult it is to avoid occasional missteps and lapses. After all, we are only
human. But let us never forget who we are and what is expected of us. If we
listen to the little voice of our conscience, if we embrace our guilt and use
it as a lifeline to bring us back to Hashem, we will always remain royal
princes and princesses and the doors to the palace will always be open to us.
Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich
and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center
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