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