The Small Things

Parshas Eikev

Posted on July 24, 2013 (5773) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

Ekev – the word itself and the parsha generally – stresses the cause and effect equation that governs all human and Jewish history. Blessings and sadder events are conditioned on previous human behavior, attitudes and actions. Life eventually teaches us that there is no free lunch. The rabbis stated it succinctly in Avot: “According to the effort and sacrifice, so too will be the reward.”

 

There are really no shortcuts in life. All attempts to accommodate eternal Jewish practices and values to fit current fads and societal norms, have ended in abysmal failure. The road of Jewish history is littered with the remains of people and movements who looked to reform and improve Judaism and instead only succeeded in making it irrelevant to their followers.

The Torah emphasizes that Moshe brought the people closer to Heaven but he did not degrade heaven by dragging it down to the level of the people. The tragedy of much of American Jewry and of many secular Jews generally is not that Judaism was too hard and difficult – rather, it was rendered too easy and convenient and thus had no meaning in their lives and everyday existence.

 

Moshe in this week’s parsha (as he does generally in the book of Dvarim) emphasizes the difficult times that the people endured in their forty years sojourn and travels in the desert of Sinai. And Moshe does not deign to promise them a rose garden in the Middle East upon their entry into and conquest of the Land of Israel. He warns them of the consequences of abandoning G-d and Torah. The G-d of Jewish and general world history is exacting and does not tolerate the easy path that leads to spiritual weakness and eventual physical destruction.

Rashi in this week’s parsha comments that this message is particularly true regarding the “small” things in life that one easily crushes with one’s akeiv – heel. It is the small thing that truly characterizes our personality and our relationships with others and with our Creator as well.

I have noticed that there is a trend in our current society that when eulogies are delivered they concentrate on the small things in life – on stories, anecdotes, memories and personal relationships – rather than on the public or commercial achievements of the deceased, no matter how impressive those achievements might have been.

 

It is the small things in life that engender within us likes and dislikes, feelings of affection and love and emotions of annoyance and frustration. So, our Torah is one of myriad details and many small things. The G-d of the vast universe reveals Himself, so to speak, to us in the atom and the tiny mite. For upon reflection and analysis there are really no small things in life.

Everything that we do and say bears consequences for our personal and national future. It is this sense of almost cosmic influence exercised by every individual in one’s everyday life that lies at the heart of Torah and Judaism. We build the world in our own lives’ seemingly mundane behavior.

 

Shabat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

Letting Go

Parshas Eikev

Posted on August 6, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

In this week’s portion Moshe talks about what was perhaps the most traumatic moment of his career. After spending 40 days and nights on the highest level of spiritual elevation, he returned from Mount Sinai to a scene that filled him with horror. At the foot of the mountain the Jews were reveling around a golden calf.

 

Naturally Moshe was appalled. Here he was, holding the luchos (tablets), a G-d-given immortal gift, and he faced a nation plunged into an act of idolatry. He smashes the luchos.

But if we analyze the narrative there is an interesting word that Moshe inserts as he describes his actions on that day. “I descended from the mountain and the two tablet were in my hands. Then I saw and behold! You had sinned unto G-d; you made yourselves a molten calf. So I grasped the two luchos and I threw them from my two hands and smashed them in front of your eyes” (Deuteronomy 9:15-17).

 

Moshe was holding the tablets when descending the mountain. Why did he clutch them before throwing them from his hands? Weren’t they already in his hands?

 

Shouldn’t the verse tell us “Then I saw and behold! You had sinned and you made yourselves a molten calf. So I threw the tablets from my two hands and smashed them in front of your eyes.” Why, and in what way did he grasp them?

 

A friend of mine told me a story about his great grandfather, a brilliant sage and revered tzadik. Whenever he saw one of his children commit an action that was harmful to their physical or spiritual well-being he would stop them. But this sage knew that stopping a child is not enough. The youngster would need a punishment too, whether it be potch (Yiddish for slap), reprimand, lecture, or the withholding of privileges.

 

But when a potch or harsh rebuke was due, the rabbi would not give it immediately. He would jot the transgression down in a small notebook and at the end of the week he would approach the young offender. After giving the child a hug and embrace, he reminded the child of the incident and explained to the child that his actions were wrong.

 

“I should have punished you immediately when I saw you commit your act,” he would say, “but honestly, I was angry then, and my punishment may have been one spurred by anger, not scolding. Now, however, that occurrence is in the past and I am calm. Now I can determine your punishment with a clear head. And you will know that it is given from love, not anger.”

He then proceeded to punish the child in a way that fit the misdeed. Moshe was upset. But he did not want to throw the luchos down in rage. He therefore grabbed them and held them tight before hurling them. Moshe, in his narrative tells us that he seized the luchos before breaking them. He wanted to send a clear message to the revelers below. That the mussar (ethical reprove) that he was affording with this action was not born out of irrational behavior or in anger.

 

Before smashing the luchos Moshe embraced them, just as a father hugging a child that he would soon admonish. Because Moshe wanted to tell us that before we let loose, we have to hold tight.

 

Good Shabbos!

Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky

 Improving Our Character

Parshas Eikev

Posted on July 24, 2013 (5773) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

One of the greatest challenges we face in life is being trapped in the rut of our personal shortcomings. As time progresses, we become more alert to those flaws that despite our efforts, have resisted change. It may be a propensity to anger or a lack of organizational skills. It may be a tendency to be self-centered or jealous of others. These mindsets tend to lock us in a viselike grip; as much as we try we simply cannot escape.

 

One of the underlying principles of both the mussar and the Chassidic schools of thought is that we must never despair of improving our character, even regarding traits that are so stubborn they seem to be genetically embedded.

 

The saintly Yesod Hoavoda once told his disciples that he asked a professional horse jockey if his horse ever threw him to the ground. “Of course,” said the jockey. “Everyone, even the most professional rider, gets thrown from time to time.”

 

“What do you do when you get thrown?” asked the Yesod Hoavodah. “I hold on to the reins and jump back on to the saddle as fast as I can. If not, the horse will run away and I will be left with nothing,” the horse jockey replied.

 

“Our body too, pulls in different directions. While we try to harness its instincts, they are often times more powerful than we are, but that does not mean that we must despair of ever changing. Admitting defeat should be unthinkable-since striving for self-improvement and self-elevation is what our task in this world is all about.

 

King Solomon says in Koheles, “Sheva yipol tzadik vekam,” seven times the righteous fall, but they will stand. Simply put, a righteous person will fall seven times but will continuously struggle back to his feet and get back in the running.

 

There is a classical homiletical interpretation of this verse that provides an avenue to assist us in getting back on our feet after a fall. A great Chassidic sage said we may fall seven times but if we know that deep down, our most fundamental desire is to be virtuous, to cleanse ourselves of unsavory instincts and elevate ourselves to be moral, giving and unselfish, we will persevere.

 

Just as a child when severely criticized will tend to internalize the judgment and feel he or she is incurably bad, we adults may also become harshly self-critical and “throw in the towel” on trying to improve. Instead of giving more power to our nature’s darker side, however, our job is to reinforce the belief that a human being can reach for-and attain-the stars. We must stand erect and jump back into the lifelong challenge of self-improvement, relying on assistance from Above to help us in the struggle.

 

This theme is echoed in a verse in this week’s Parsha. The Torah tells us, Vehaya, im lo sishmiun bekoli,” and it will come to pass, if you do not obey my voice and you stray after idols, I warn you today that you will be utterly destroyed and decimated, if you do not heed my voice. The word “vehaya” always precedes joyous tidings, the Sages say. Why then in so tragic a situation as the Jewish people straying from hearkening to G-d’s word should the Torah use the word “vehaya?”

 

Furthermore, the commentaries ask, why does this piece conclude with the verse that all these terrible punishments will befall you since “you do not listen to Hashem’s voice” (present tense)? Would it not be more apropos to write “since you have not listened to Hashem’s voice” (past tense)?

 

The saintly Bnei Yisaschar explains that the Torah is alluding to the very concept we have discussed above. Sometimes we stray very far from where are supposed to be. A little voice inside of us tells us that we are doomed and we might as well come to terms with our personal failure and embrace our diminished and compromised status. We will never be able to regain our footing and climb back up to spiritual heights.

 

It is that self-critical voice that is constantly buzzing inside of us, declaring we are doomed. Yet “vehaya,” -the joyous tidings associated with this word teaches that the way to arouse Hashem’s joy, so to speak, even as our inner voice condemns us, is to resist that voice with all our energy, and to choose self-affirmation instead. Bolstered by faith in Hashem’s helping power, we can boost our self-confidence and courage in tackling life’s ever-present challenges, and thereby succeed in realizing our inner spiritual aspirations.

 

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos.

Rabbi Naftali Reich

 

 

 

What Is True Love?

Parshas Vaeschanan

Posted on July 26, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

Love is the most powerful human emotion. It electrifies, inspires and exalts us. It illuminates and gives meaning to our lives. The Torah wants our relationship with Hashem to be built on a foundation of love, so that we can reach the highest levels of connection and exaltation. In this week’s Torah portion, we read the Shema prayer, which we say every morning and evening. It begins with a declaration of our faith, and the rest of the paragraph sets forth the commandment of loving Hashem. The paragraph concludes with the following two precepts: “And you shall tie them things upon your arms as a sign, and as a symbol between your eyes, and you shall write them upon the doorposts of your homes and your gateways.”

These precepts are more familiar to us as the mitzvah of tefillin, which we wear on our arms and our heads, and the mitzvah of mezuzah, which we affix to our doorposts. The question, however, immediately arises: What is the connection between these two precepts and the commandment of love? It would seem that these precepts fall more readily into the category of obedience than love.

 

The answer lies in a deeper understanding of the essential nature of true love. In contemporary society, there is a perception of love as an emotional frame of mind. We love other people as we would love a beautiful painting. It is a self-centered sensation, personal gratification rather a profound spiritual union with the object of our love. When we say we love a painting we are not implying a bond with the canvas and pigments. We are expressing our own pleasure that is stimulated by the painting. It is, therefore, not the painting that we love but ourselves.

 

Unfortunately, this attitude may often characterize our love for other people. If we examine these feelings closely we may sometimes find that what we call love is really only attraction and self-gratification. True love, however, is a total absorption in the object of our love.

The Torah wants us to love Hashem in a spirit of true love. We have to form a complete and constant attachment to Him, to be completely absorbed in Him in all places, at all times and under all circumstances. “These things shall be close to your heart . . . when you dwell in your homes and when you are traveling on the road, when you go to sleep and when you awaken.” True love is total connection.

 

Therefore, when we affix mezuzahs to our doorposts, when we place tefillin on our heads, close to our brains, and on our left arms, close to our hearts, we cement our close connection with Hashem and show our consummate love.

 

The young newlyweds had just come back from their honeymoon and were settling into married life. During the first few weeks, he went back to his normal job routine, and she spend her days setting up their new home.

 

One time, he returned from a particularly grueling day at the office, grabbed a quick bite, settled into his easy chair and buried his head in the newspaper. The young woman, who had been waiting for him all day, began to cry.

He looked up, surprised. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Because I am not so sure that you love me,” she replied.

“Why should you say something like that?”

“Because I’ve waited all day for you. I expected you to tell me what your day was like, and I would tell you about mine. And now, you just withdraw into yourself. You sat down in your chair and shut me out.”

“But can’t you see I’m exhausted?” the young man protested.

“That’s exactly it,” she said. “Of course you’re interested in me when you’re relaxed and at ease. But if you truly loved me, you would be interested in me even when you’re frustrated and exhausted.”

 

In our own lives, we might do well to examine the love we feel for other people to determine if we have really achieved the transcendent state of true love. True love is what any normal parents feels for their children. No matter how much pride and gratification they derive from the children, their feelings are not self-centered but focused on the objects of their love. Is this what we feel for the other people in our lives whom we profess to love? Is this what we feel for Hashem? Let us never forget that we have the power to control our feelings. We can look at the people important to us in a new light and learn to love them with a love that is truly true. If we can rise above our self-centered impulses, we can enrich ourselves immensely and illuminate our lives.

 

Text Copyright © 2008 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

 

 

 

Welcome Criticism

Parshas Devarim

Posted on July 18, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

 

In summing up the story of the Jewish people, from Egyptian slavery to the eve of their entry into their promised homeland, our great teacher and leader Moshe minces no words. He reminds the people of Israel of their shortcomings and of their transgressions during the 40 years that he has led them. There is very little bitterness in his narrative but rather just the damning truth of hard facts and known circumstances.

 

Though this fifth book of the Bible will contain many commandments and legal matters in it, the overall message of the book is one of historical perspective – of the past and of the future, of the weaknesses and foibles of the people and of their greatness and search for spirituality and holiness. The rabbis taught us that it is better to hear criticisms and chastisement from Moshe who loves us, then compliments and blandishments from Bilaam, who essentially hates us.

 

The truth is that all of us find it difficult to accept criticism easily and coolly. Our ego flares up and we immediately build up a wall of resentment and excuses in order to deflect the criticism leveled against us. But that is certainly a self-defeating mechanism that only reinforces our shortcomings and prevents us from taking the necessary steps to bring about self-improvement. The Talmud itself bemoans the fact that the diminution of the generations has left us with a society that finds it difficult to accept criticism, and a lack of people who can administer criticism correctly. That certainly seems to be the case in our world today as well.

 

The reading of the first chapter of the prophet Isaiah, from which this Shabbat derives its name –Chazon – is a strongly worded indictment of the Jewish society in first Temple times and provides the background as to why destruction and exile followed. The prophet will complain later that the people were not attentive to his words and in fact inflicted physical harm upon him for having the temerity to address them in such a fashion.

 

The great men of Mussar over the past two centuries have placed a greater emphasis on being able to hear the opinions and criticisms of others. Needless to say, this attitude did not prove to be overly popular even amongst religious Jews. Yet, it is abundantly clear that having a closed mind and deaf ears leads to great societal problems, both personal and national.

 

I would say that, in my opinion, it is one of the more serious failings that exists in our attitudes and behavior patterns. Smugness and self-righteous contentment are truly enemies of progress and spiritual advancement. The Lord Himself, so to speak, asks of us to come, debate and discuss behavior and problems directly with the Almighty. But the fear of criticism and the lack of the ability to truly digest such criticism prevents many such a discussion or debate from somehow taking place. A little less ego and a lot more humility and attentiveness to others would certainly stand us in good stead.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

The Stuff of Real Life

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

A Bridge to Nowhere

Parshas Matos

Posted on July 11, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

Moshe had been the consummate conciliator for the past 40 years. From the sin of the Golden Calf when he appeased Hashem through the many ordeals throughout the 40-year desert sojourn, he is constantly an advocate for the wishes of his nation. This week, however, Moshe he reacts totally different to what appears to be a simple requisition.

 

The children of Gad and Reuvain come to Moshe with a simple request. They are shepherds and do not want to cross the Jordan River into the Land of Canaan. They claim that the land on the east bank of the river is better for grazing. Before they even get a chance to fully present their request, Moshe releases a virtual tirade at them. For eleven verses, more than any single rebuke in the entire Torah, Moshe chastises them. He says that their request is subversive and will dissuade others from crossing the Jordan. He relives the fateful episode of the spies and their slander of the Land of Israel. He recounts the wrath of Hashem and details the suffering of Israel because of that sin. He compares the representatives who requested to remain to those terrible men, and claims that Gad and Reuvain “have risen in their place to add more burning wrath of Hashem against Israel” (Numbers: 32:6-16)

 

It is extremely difficult to comprehend why Moshe, normally so conciliatory, patient, and understanding, even during the most difficult of times, became so sharply incensed at this request. Obviously, Moshe’s actions are a lesson to all of us. What is it?

 

David was driving to the Catskills for Shabbos but set out from his Manhattan office with hardly enough time to make the trip and arrive before sundown. Traffic was backed up on the Major Deegan and crossing the Hudson via the George Washington Bridge seemed an almost impossible task. Mid-span, after sitting nearly an hour in stop-and-go traffic, he realized that the red orb in the sky was about to sink below the horizon. He had never desecrated the Shabbos before and traffic on the George Washington Bridge was not going to make him violate the Sabbath now. In a panic, he pulled his car as close as he could to the guard rail, left the keys on the visor, removed his wallet and hid it together his personal effects and hoped for the best. At worst, the car would be stolen. Maybe the police would get to it first and tow it.

 

Feeling a little guilty about adding to the traffic delays on the bridge, David left his car, flashers blinking, and walked back toward New York City where he decided to spend the Shabbos at a friend who lived in nearby Washington Heights.

 

Saturday night he returned to the bridge and his car was nowhere to be seen. He went straight to the police station and asked for the desk officer. “Did anyone see the gray Honda that was on the George Washington Bridge on Friday night?”

 

The officers eyes widened. “You mean the car with the keys on the visor?”

 

David nodded.

 

“Franky, get over here,” the cop yelled to his friend,” listened to this!” By now a couple of officers moved closer to David.

 

The sergeant raised his voice. “You mean the Honda with the flashers on?” Again David nodded, this time more nervously. You mean the Honda with the wallet with close to $500 dollars left under the front seat!” he shouted. “Was that your car!?” David shook his head meekly. “Yes, officer, that’s my car. Where is it?”

 

“Where is it??” mocked the officer, “Where is it? Do you know how many divers we have looking for your body in the Hudson!?”

 

Moshe understood that the worst of all sins is not what one does privately in his heart or in his home but rather when his actions affect the spirit of others. Often, one’s self-interest mires any thought of how his conduct will affect others. The children of Gad and Reuvain had a personal issue. They did not want to cross the Jordan River because they wanted to graze in greener pastures. Yet they did not consider what effect their request might have on an entire nation. They did not take into account the severe ramifications their actions may have on the morale of hundreds of thousands of enthusiastic people wanting to enter the Holy Land.

 

In our lives, at home and at work, not everything that we do, say or act upon may be interpreted with the intent that motivated the action. And sometimes those misinterpretations can have devastating effects on morale, attitude and feeling. We may refuse to cross a river for a matter of convenience. Others, however, may see it as a calamity. Our job is to be conscious that everything we do affects not only ourselves, but is a bridge to many other people.

The Age Of Experience

Parshas Matos Masei

Posted on July 1, 2013 (5773) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

 

“Man was born to toil,” said Iyov, and indeed, how we toil! We seem to be under constant pressure, ever working to provide for ourselves and our families while trying to find time to enjoy the fruits of our labors. But did you ever notice that when we attempt to relax, it sometimes can be difficult to apply the parking break? While attempting to unwind, we tend to become restless, straining to return to the world of activity and achievement. And this makes us ask why we are so compelled to always occupy ourselves. Why, when we finally do have a chance to relax, do we find it so difficult to detach ourselves from the throb and hum of our daily lives?

 

At least part of the answer lies in the fact that “life” and “activity” are really synonymous. Creative activity is the ultimate expression of human life. Inanimate matter is fixed in its place, and even animals can do little more than move from one place to another. Only we humans are endowed with the innate ability to channel our talents toward meaningful growth and advancement. By creating us in this fashion, HaShem gifted us with the capacity to emulate Him, to become partners in the creation and development of His universe. As we move along the road of life we are naturally growing, developing, blossoming and maturing. At times it may not appear as if we are realizing any major accomplishments. Nevertheless, we can be assured that core values and morals are continually refining themselves as we learn from our past mistakes and move towards a better tomorrow.

 

This concept is beautifully reflected in the opening words of this week’s Torah portion, “These are the journeys of the children of Israel who left the land of Egypt . . .” . The Torah continues to devote many lines to detailing each of the forty-two locations where the Jews encamped during their forty years of wandering in the Sinai wilderness. The questions are obvious: why does the Torah devote so much space to delineating the precise places that the people traveled from and to which they arrived? Furthermore, it was only the very first journey, from Ramses to Succos, which took them out of the land of Egypt. Why then does the Torah associate all of their journeys with their Exodus from Egypt by telling us with each segment “they traveled from . . . and they encamped at”? Would it not have sufficed to simply record the historical location of each stop that they made in the wilderness? It is also interesting to note that the Shabbat Torah reading this week is recited in a melodious tone that is also used the recital of the other ‘songs’ in the Torah. Why is this historical narrative to be sung and celebrated?

 

The commentaries explain that the forty-two journeys enumerated here represent the many journeys, wanderings, and seemingly fragmented episodes that occur to all of us during our own lives. Just as the Children of Israel were distancing themselves from the ancient land of Egypt, so we, during each of our own stages of growth, are attempting to remove ourselves from our own mini-Egypt. The Hebrew word for Egypt-Mitzrayim is rooted in the word for boundary and constraint. “Egypt” expresses much more than the place of our physical slavery: it symbolizes the daily constraints and limitations imposed upon us by the terms of our very existence.

 

Throughout our life’s journey, the physical body constantly moves forward, serving as the vehicle of our growth, while our soul and conscience take the role of an internal compass that steadily guides us across the wilderness, prodding us to leave our ‘little Egypt’ while drawing us ever closer to our very own promised land. Each stage and phase of our lives represent essential chapters in our personal life documentary. Each stage and phase has a celebratory note, for at each station on our journey we glean invaluable insights and pointers that bring us one step closer to our ultimate destination.

 

This important concept is reinforced with a Torah commandment that obliges us to honor and stand up before an elderly person. Why is it so important to venerate a senior fellow? Many older people do not seem to have accomplished that much in their lives, so why do we confer upon them so much esteem and reverence?

 

The commentaries explains that our esteem for the elderly is grounded in our appreciation for the reservoir of experience that they have inevitably garnered as they charted and navigated their passageway through life. The insight and understanding that they have gained with the passage of time are the ‘goods’ that we pay deference to and stand up for ! Thus, even if the older person may not have any groundbreaking accomplishments in their life’s portfolio there is much that still deserves our respect.

 

This explains the Torah’s lengthy description of the people’s journey through the wilderness. Each stage of their journey was enriching. It enabled them to distance themselves from the constraining influences of Egypt and drew them one step closer to their destination. In our lives too each chapter invariably will leave us with valuable insights and lessons that guide us forward towards a more meaningful tomorrow.

 

Wishing you and yours a wonderful Shabbas

 

Rabbi Naftali Reich

Text Copyright © 2013 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

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

 

 

 

 

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…

 

Tying Generations Together

Parshas Pinchas

Posted on July 13, 2011 (5771) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The Torah records for us the genealogy of Pinchas, the true and justified zealot of Jewish history. There are many reasons advanced as to why the Torah felt impelled to tell us of the names of his father and grandfather. Many commentators saw in this an explanation to justify Pinchas’ behavior while others emphasized that it was an explanation for Pinchas’ reward and G-d granting him the blessing of peace.

But aside from these insights there is another more general message that the Torah is recording for us. And that is that a person’s behavior affects all of one’s family members, even those of previous generations who may no longer be currently numbered among the living.

A great act of sanctification of G-d’s name such as the one performed by Pinchas enhances the reputations and stature of previous generations as well My rebbe in the yeshiva summed this lesson up in his usual concise and pithy manner: “If both your grandparents and your grandchildren are proud of you and your achievements then you are probably alright in Heaven’s judgment as well.”

Our idea of immortality is based upon generations of our families, both previous generations and later ones. We find vindication of our lives and efforts in the accomplishments of those that come after us and continue our values and faith. We cannot control what children and grandchildren will do, whom they will marry and what type of life they will lead. But innately, we feel that we have a connection to the development of their lives and the actions that they will take.

The Torah emphasizes for us that Pinchas’ zealotry did not come to him in a vacuum. The Torah allows everyone freedom of will and behavior. Neither good behavior nor evil behavior is ever predestined. Yet as medicine has shown us, in the physical world there is an element of physical predestination in our DNA. And this DNA affects our moral behavior as well.

Judaism always envisioned itself not only as a universal faith but as a particular family as well. In our daily prayer service we constantly recall who our founding ancestors were. We name our children in memory of those who have preceded us. We extol a sense of family and a loyalty to the values that our families represent.

One of the most destructive trends in modern society has been the erosion of the sense of family in the world and amongst Jews particularly. Assimilation means abandoning family and abandoning family certainly contributes to intensified assimilation and loss of Jewish feelings and identity. It is ironic that in a time such as now when most children can be privileged to know grandparents and even great grandparents the relationship between generations in many Jewish families is frayed and weak.

Pinchas comes therefore to reinforce this concept of tying generations – past, present and future – together. It is imperative for us to know Pinchas’ genealogy for otherwise we have no clue as to who Pinchas was and why he behaved as he did in those given circumstances.

Shabat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein