A Man from Among Us
Parshas
Vayikra
It was certainly much
easier to expiate a transgression two thousand years ago than it is today. In
ancient times, the transgressor would bring a sacrificial offering to the Holy
Temple in Jerusalem. He would confess his sins, repent and offer up the
sacrifice as a symbol of his desire to rededicate himself to his Creator. The
sanctity of the place and the sublime spirituality of the process would cleanse
his soul and purify his spirit, and he would go home spiritually rejuvenated.
The Torah, while
describing the process of the sacrificial service at great length and in
exhaustive detail, introduces the topic with a curious statement. “When a man
(adam) from among you brings a sacrifice . . .” The Torah usually refers to a
man with the Hebrew word ish, yet here the Torah chooses the unusual word adam,
which brings to mind Adam, the first man. What is the point of being reminded
of Adam when we bring a sacrifice to atone for a sin?
Furthermore, why does
the Torah speak of a man “from among you” that brings a sacrifice? What is
added by this seemingly superfluous phrase? Isn’t every man “from among you”?
The commentators
explain that the purpose of a sacrifice is not only to express contrition for
the sin but also to repair the damage that sin caused in the world. A person
does not live in a vacuum, an island unto himself. Every sinful act creates a
void of the Creator’s presence in the spiritual ecosystem, causing the
retraction, so to speak, of the Divine Presence and the proliferation of
negative energy. A sinful act causes the spiritual level of the world to fall,
just as a mitzvah causes it to rise. Therefore, a person committing a sin
affects not only himself but also his surroundings, his family, his friends,
his community and to a certain extent the entire world.
Adam was the first man in the world, and in his mind, his
decision to eat the forbidden fruit was a private decision. He thought it
affected no one but him. But he was wrong. His one sinful act had tremendous
ramifications for all future generations. It introduced death to the human
experience.
This is the lesson we
learn from Adam. There are no private decisions. Every act we commit has
far-reaching implications for the spiritual condition of our environment. This
is what a person should have in mind when he brings a sacrifice to the Holy
Temple in Jerusalem. He must realize that, like Adam, he mistakenly considered
his sinful act victimless, affecting only himself. But he was really “from
among you.” His sinful act affected others as well, and it is the purpose of
the sacrifice to repair the damage he has wrought.
A young man booked passage on a pleasure cruise ship. He took
a cabin on the lowest deck, because those were the least expensive. After a few
days, he locked himself in his room and ordered his meals delivered to his
door.
The waiter who brought the meal noticed that the passageway
was damp, and as he approached the young man’s door, he saw water pulsing out
from under his door. He bent down to smell it, and to his horror, he discovered
that it was seawater. In a panic, he banged on the young man’s door, but there
was no response.
He ran to get the captain, and in a few minutes, the captain
arrived with two crew members carrying axes. They broke down the door and found
the young man drilling holes in the side of the ship.
“What are you doing?” screamed the captain. “Do you want to
kill all of us? Do you want to sink this ship?”
“What are you talking about?” the young man retorted. “This is
my private cabin. I paid for it, and I have the right to do anything I want in
it.”
In our own lives, we are all living in cabins on the great
cruise ship of life. We may sometimes think we are independent individuals,
answering only to ourselves. But as the popular saying goes, we are indeed all
connected. The things we say or do, a harsh word, a thoughtless act, a
spiritual transgression can harm the people around us. On the other hand, a
warm smile, an act of kindness, a word of encouragement can touch, move and
inspire. Our acts may cause a ripple effect whose extent cannot be measured.
And even if we manage to keep certain behaviors in total isolation, they still
leave a mark in the spiritual world. We may think we are “Adam,” but let us
always remember that we are really “from among us.”
Text Copyright © 2008
by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the
faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.
A Small Voice
Parshas
Vayikra
Posted on March 16, 2018 (5778) By
Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein
| Level: Beginner
G-d calls out to Moshe
from the inner sanctuary of the Mishkan. Yet, as Rashi points out to us, the
sound of G-d’s voice, so to speak, was loud and strong. However it was limited
to the area within the Mishkan. Those who were outside of that sanctuary heard
nothing. The message imparted here is a clear and simple one. Not everyone
hears G-d’s voice nor can it be heard everywhere.
There was a long period
of time in English and American society that those who entered the clergy were
said to have responded to a “calling.” In our jaded, materialistic,
dysfunctional world of today a “calling” is something to be mocked at as being
naïve and impractical. Yet the Torah emphasizes here that Moshe responded to
such a “calling” and that in fact this became the name and title of one of the
five books of Moshe.
Leading and teaching
the Jewish people can certainly be viewed as a profession and a career. But if
that is all it is then it is deficient in its spiritual potential and its
ultimate chance of success. Unless one hears, so to speak, the voice of G-d
calling one to public service and Torah teaching, the soul of the matter will
always be compromised.
Moshe is able to be
the incomparable Moshe that he is because he hears the Lord calling out to him
even if no one else apparently does so as well. All of his life he responds to
that call and remains faithful to the task and challenge that leading the
Jewish people poses for him.
Midrash teaches us that
Moshe first heard the voice of G-d, so to speak, at the encounter at the
burning bush. There the Lord called out to him in the voice and tone of his
father Amram and Moshe therefore was able to hear it without being overwhelmed.
Much later in Jewish history, the Lord told the prophet Eliyahu that he could
hear His call in the still small voice that reverberates within all of our
consciences.
G-d is heard, so to
speak, in the voice of our ancestors, of Jewish tradition and family bonds.
Many Jews today are completely unaware of their own family heritage and
certainly of the greater heritage of Israel as a whole. And very few of us are
strong enough psychologically and spiritually to hearken to our inner voice,
still and small as it is.
So we wander through life seeking direction and guidance and
turn to others to help us find ourselves. First we should look inward for the G-dly
GPS implanted within us. That is our Mishkan, the place where G-d’s voice can
be heard. Searching for it elsewhere, in the voices of strangers, outside of
our Mishkan will be frustrating and fruitless.
Since the voice of G-d, no matter how powerful and strong it
may be, is still described as being a small voice, it is obvious that one has
to pay attention and strain to hear it. This effort always characterized
Moshe’s life, the loyal servant of G-d, who was attuned to hear the calling
that guided him, and through him, all of Israel and humankind as well.
Shabat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein
More Or Less
Parshas
Vayikra
Posted on March 7, 2014 (5774) By Rabbi
Yochanan Zweig | Series: Rabbi Zweig on
the Parsha | Level: Beginner
“…it
is an elevation-offering, a fire-offering, a satisfying aroma to Hashem” (1:17) The Shulchan Aruch states that it is preferable to submit a
short whole-hearted prayer than to pray extensively without the proper
intentions.1 The implication is that if one would have equally serious intent in
both a short prayer and a long prayer, the long prayer would be preferable.2 The Talmud notes that the expression
“a satisfying aroma to Hashem” is recorded in connection with all three forms
of elevation-offerings, the animal, the bird and flour. The message being delivered by the Torah,
states the Talmud, is that the size of the offering is of no import; as long as
it is being offered whole-heartedly, it is equally satisfying to Hashem.3 This prompts the Taz to ask how it is possible that if the
intentions are equal, the submission of a larger offering is not an act of
greater merit.4 The essence of bringing the elevation-offering, the offering
which is completely consumed on the Altar, is the understanding that everything
we possess really belongs to our Creator. Therefore, depending upon a person’s
financial means, different types of offerings can have the same impact
regardless of their monetary value. The three types of offerings are reflective
of the different financial capacities of each individual. A poor person bringing a bird offering has the same impact as
a wealthy individual offering a bull. A person who brings an offering which is
consistent with his financial means is stating that what he has ultimately
belongs to his Creator. However, if a wealthy individual offers a bird, which
is well below his means, the message being delivered is exactly the opposite;
he senses that he is entitled to his money. We are required to understand that
our wealth is not our own to gift, rather it all belongs to Hashem. Concerning
prayer, however, there is no standard which determines the appropriate length for
each individual. The only requirement is that a person have the proper intent. If a person prays longer with the
proper intentions, it is surely a more meritorious act than a person who
recites a shorter prayer with equal intent. 1.Orech Chaim 1:4 2. SeeMishna
Berurah ibid 3.Zevchim 65b 4.Orech Chaim ibid
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