Asking the Impossible

 

 

Posted on February 26, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What is the point of asking someone to do the impossible? What is to be gained by having a person make the attempt and fail? In bringing up our children, we are always careful to demand of them only what they can realistically accomplish. Otherwise, we would be setting them up for failure. Yet in this week’s parashah, we find that Hashem does exactly the opposite.

“And you shall make a menorah of pure gold, hammered,” Hashem told Moses, “the menorah will be made.” The Midrash observes that at first Moses was commanded “to make a menorah,” but much as he tried, he was unable to produce it according to the Torah’s

specifications. Finally, Hashem told him to throw the gold into the fire and “the menorah will be made” by itself – miraculously.

We can safely assume that Moses, the greatest man who ever lived, made the most valiant attempt to fulfill the commandment of making a menorah, that he exerted himself to the full extent of his considerable talents and abilities. And yet he failed. Surely, then, it was not humanly possible to create such a menorah by any means short of a miracle. If so, why did Hashem command Moses to produce a menorah when He knew failure was guaranteed?

Why didn’t Hashem produce the menorah miraculously right from the beginning?

A similar question arises earlier in the parashah, where we find an interesting paradox. The Torah commands that the Holy Ark be carried by long wooden rods inserted through golden rings in its sides, and that these rods never be removed; other Tabernacle furnishings were also carried by similar means, but there is no prohibition against removing the rods. Why was it so important that the rods of the Holy Ark never be removed? After all, our Sages tell us that the Holy Ark traveled under its own power and actually carried its bearers with it.

The act of carrying was only an illusion. In real terms, however, the bearers of the Holy Ark contributed nothing to its transportation, and yet, here in particular, special emphasis is placed on keeping the rods of the bearers in place. Why is this so?

The commentators explain that a profound lesson is being taught here. Every person in the world is obligated to accomplish as much good as he possibly can. He is obligated to provide for his family, help those less fortunate than himself, support institutions of Torah and charity. This is called hishtadlus. Although a person knows that in the final analysis Hashem controls the world and everything that happens in it, he should not say, “Why should I bother when it is all up to Hashem anyway?” Hashem wants all people to exert themselves to the full extent of their abilities, as if it were all up to them. Then – and only then – does Hashem reward their efforts.

True, the Holy Ark carried itself, and it is for this very reason that the rods must never be removed. Don’t delude yourself, says the Torah, into thinking you don’t need to lift up the rods because it won’t make a difference anyway. The omnipresent rods are there to remind you that you are always obligated to do your utmost – no matter what.

For this same reason, Hashem commanded Moses to make the menorah, even though He knew it was impossible. Again, we are being taught the same lesson. A person is required to try to the best of his ability, regardless of whether he can assume that his efforts will be crowned with success. Moses was rewarded for all his exertions in the attempt to make the menorah, even though in the end it took a miracle to produce it.

In our own lives, we too are sometimes overwhelmed by the daunting tasks that face us, whether in our private lives, the workplace or our obligations to the community. We sometimes cannot see how we will ever achieve success, and therefore, we become

discouraged and lose heart. Let us draw on the lessons of the golden menorah and the Holy Ark. Let us reflect on the deeper truths of existence, that success and failure are never in our own power, that all we can do is try. And let us pray to Hashem that He look kindly upon our sincere efforts and bless them with success – even if it takes a miracle.

Text Copyright © 2007 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Teachable Moments

 

 

Posted on February 16, 2012 (5772) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

 

Do not offend a stranger (verbally) and do not oppress him (financially) because you were strangers in the land of Egypt. (Shemos 22:20)

Because you were strangers: If you hurt him with words he can say to you that you also come from strangers. “Do not tease friend about a blemish that you- yourself possess!” A stranger is someone who was not born in that country but rather came from a different country to live there. (Rashi)

It sounds a little odd that we should not put down a stranger is because the same thing could be said about us! Is that a worthy reason? Don’t do it because it’s offensive! It’s wrong! That’s all! Do we need a justification at all? Why then are we reminded that we were strangers in Egypt as a reason not to speak hurtful words to a stranger?

It could be that we might even have a stronger subconscious tendency to look down on someone that reminds us of our own weakness or vulnerability. Perhaps that’s what Rashi means but maybe there’s another purpose to those words, “because you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

One of my boys, when he was in grade school, was being picked on daily. We wanted badly to champion his cause but he refused to identify the instigators. The administration and Rebbe were consulted. Attempts were made to squelch it. Nothing changed. The poor kid came home in tears every day. We all know the remedy. Kids who pick on others only do it when they sense that they are getting a reaction. There’s a tendency to want to tell a child (or an adult) “Don’t let them bother you!” Unfortunately, it rarely works. If someone tells you not to think about pink elephants suddenly they are dancing even more in your head. He was in pain and we were frustrated. What were we to do?

 

With help from heaven I stumbled upon a practical approach. At first, I sat with my boy and asked him what they had been saying about him that made him feel so tortured. The words bled out slowly, “dummy-head”, “cookoo”, “stinky” and stuff like that. I wrote down each on a piece of paper and tried to logically dispute the veracity of their claims. I soon realized though, that I was talking to the head when it was the heart that hurt. Then  I put my money where their mouths were and I gave him three dollars- one for each false utterance. I now had his undivided attention. I asked him to please do me a favor and write down each insulting phrase they say tomorrow and that I would pay him a dollar for every one. I even gave him a special pad of paper and a pen for the occasion.

Well, the next day he came home with a long face covered with sadness. I was curious to see the paper. Empty! He reported that nobody teased him today. It worked! Once they realized that not only was he not poised to be hurt by their words and that he was happily awaiting them their thrill was ended and so they ceased.

Now that it was finally over, I didn’t want to lose this precious parental opportunity to crown the episode with a lasting lesson. This was the teachable moment! I felt it necessary to tell my son the following which he accepted with unusual depth and sensitivity, “Now that you know what it feels like to be picked on you should make certain not to do it to anybody else. If there is ever a kid who is different or isolated or is for whatever odd reason a candidate for being picked on you should make it your business to befriend or defend him. With that in mind, son, maybe this whole messy episode will have been worthwhile!”

It could be that our struggles and even our most suffering situations, just like being in Egypt, can be converted into super assets. How so? In English there’s a difference between the words, “sympathy” and “empathy”. “Sympathy” is a remote feeling of pity while “empathy” is a feeling of identification with another’s pain. Maybe it’s a strategy to keep from feeling superior to the stranger amongst us to consciously recall our vulnerabilities and realize teachable moments.

DvarTorah, Copyright © 2007 by Rabbi Label Lam and Torah.org.

 

 

Good Judgment • Torah.org

 

 

Posted on February 1, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Yaakov Menken | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

Our reading begins, “And these are the judgments…” [Ex. 21:1]

The laws in the Torah described as “judgments” are civil laws, which every society must have in order to avoid anarchy. Yet the Torah emphasizes that its civil laws are of Divine origin, like the laws governing the Sabbath and festivals. As Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki says, “Just as the earlier [words] were from Sinai, these also are from Sinai.”

The world cannot tell us what is right, appropriate, and good — even in the area of civil laws. This is true both of the laws themselves, and in how they are observed. Secular civil laws are things we are forced to do… unless we feel certain we won’t get caught. All Torah laws, by contrast, should be ones we are anxious to observe in meticulous detail.

The Torah tells us that even in our daily affairs, there is a Divine standard. We shouldn’t learn how to act, how we should conduct ourselves, from watching society around us. We shouldn’t mimic those whom others admire, whether that means politicians, the wealthy,

sports “heros” or entertainers (none of whom, it must be said, have distinguished themselves as role models).

Who, then, should we emulate? The answer is obvious: the scholars who have absorbed the teachings of the Torah. In the Talmud, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai says that one who has learned Torah and Talmud, yet has not served a scholar, is still an ignorant person! [Brachos 47b] This is because Torah is about a different approach to life, and not simply an intellectual exercise. Learning how a holy person conducts his daily affairs is a lesson in Torah.

It’s not that hard to see the difference. A child raised on “these found items are his [to keep], but these must be announced [in order to return them]” gains a different perspective than one taught “finders keepers, losers weepers!”

My wife heard from a teacher who, after decades of experience in public schools, started teaching in the primary school my boys attended. She told of an incident that made her realize she was in a “different” school (her word).

She awarded a boy a can of soda as a prize at the end of class. He stopped to put the can in his locker on his way to his next class, to drink it later — and she asked him if he would prefer that she keep the soda for him to pick up from her, so that no one would take it in the meantime.

“No one would take my soda,” said the boy. “That would be stealing!”

What is obvious to children is not always equally obvious to adults. Our minds learn to make excuses, and we are influenced by what we read and hear, by what others have done. This is why it is so important to learn from the standards of the Torah, and the practices of scholars. “Even” in daily affairs, we should aim for a higher standard!