Choose Light

Parshas Bo

Posted on January 25, 2023 (5783) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What is the worst calamity that can befall a person? What agonies are the most difficult to endure? To find the answer, we need only look at the plagues that afflicted the Egyptians when they refuse to let the Jewish people out of bondage.

 

The Ten Plagues were designed to break down the stubborn resistance of Pharaoh and the Egyptians. Each successive plague turned up the pressure another notch or two higher, until Pharaoh, no longer bear the pain, finally capitulated. The final and most crushing blow was the death of the firstborn. The runner-up in sheer torture was the ninth plague, which enveloped Egypt in such a dense, palpable darkness that all the people were completely immobilized. The agony of a prisoner in solitary confinement does not compare to the living death that gripped the benighted Egyptians.

 

While all the Egyptians were trapped in the darkness, life for the Jewish people continued as usual. As with all the other plagues, they were completely impervious to the effects of the catastrophes to which Egypt was being subjected. And yet, the Torah tells us that during the plague of darkness “the Jewish people had light in all their dwelling places.” Why was it necessary to tell us that the Jewish people were unaffected by the darkness? Furthermore, what is the significance of their having light in “their dwelling places”? Surely, they enjoyed light wherever they were.

 

Earlier in Genesis (28:10), we read that “Jacob departed from Beersheba and went to Harran.” The Midrash observes that the Torah finds it appropriate to mention his point of departure in addition to his destination point. This teaches us that “when a righteous person is in a city he represents its glory, light and beauty, and when he departs, its glory, light and beauty are removed.” What is the significance of this redundant language?

 

The commentators explain that all too often we do not appreciate what we have until we lose it. When do people realize that the righteous person is the glory of his city? When he departs and the glory is removed.

 

In Egypt as well, the Jewish people did not appreciate fully the wonderful gift of light until the plague of darkness struck Egypt. Watching the Egyptians immobilized by the darkness, they were suddenly extremely grateful that they had light to illuminate their lives.

 

On a more mystical level, the commentators see darkness and light as metaphors for the Egyptian and Jewish cultures. Egyptian society, steeped in superstition, magic and idolatry, was blind to the Presence of the Creator in the world. It was a place of darkness. The plague of darkness tapped into the Egyptian way of life and produced a physical manifestation of the spiritual darkness. And the severity of the plague was clear proof of the extent to which the spiritual light had been extinguished in Egypt. The absence of spirituality immobilizes a person and prevents him from moving forward.

 

When the Jewish people perceived the spiritual blight of the Egyptians, they recognized the Presence of the Creator in every grain of sand, every blade of grass, and this profound faith illuminated their world. The purity of life in “the Jewish dwellings,” therefore, shone with a transcendent light that reflected the inner spirituality of the Jewish people.

 

A young student was sitting in the back of the classroom and daydreaming. At the front of the room, the teacher was explaining the intricacies of a difficult subject, but the student paid no attention. He was lost in the faraway world of his imagination.

 

Suddenly, he heard another student speaking louldly and disrupting the class. The teacher asked the troublemaker to be quiet, but to no avail.

 

The daydreamer’s interest was piqued. He ears perked up, attuned to every word that transpired in the classroom. He listened to the teacher trying to convey important ideas, and he listened with revulsion as the troublemaker blotted out the teacher’s words with his disrespectful noise.

 

How foolish I’ve been, thought the daydreamer. My teacher is telling us such important things, and I wasn’t paying attention. Unfortunately, it took the troublemaker’s antics to make me aware of what I was missing.

 

In our own lives, we sometimes become so caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily life that we lose sight of the deeper truths of life, of a sense of which things that are important and which are not. But then when we see the extreme degradation of the society in which we live, we are snapped back to reality and regain our innate appreciation for Jewish values and ideals. It is better, of course, never to lose sight in the first place, not to wait for the darkness of others to inspire us to choose light.

 

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

 

Sour Milk

Parshas Vaera

Posted on January 13, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

This week Hashem tells Moshe to inform the B’nai Yisrael, that the good times will soon come. “I shall rescue you, I shall redeem you with an out stretched hand, I shall bring you to the land which I have promised your fathers, Abraham Isaac and Jacob” (cf. Exodus 6:6-8).

 

It did not mean much. “The Children of Israel did not listen to Moshe from shortness of breath and hard work” (ibid v.9).

 

Next Hashem tells Moshe to tell Pharaoh to let the Jews out. Moshe responds with a reply filled with deductive reasoning. “Behold the Children of Israel did not listen, so how will Pharaoh listen?” (ibid v.12).

 

Our sages explain that this is one of ten “kal v’chomer” instances in the Torah. It is an example of reasoning used to logically come to halachic conclusions. ( eg. If a weightlifter cannot lift the stone, surely a child cannot!)

 

The problem is, that the reasoning seems flawed. “The Children of Israel did not listen to Moshe from shortness of breath and hard work. ” Pharaoh did not suffer from either of those shortcomings! If the weightlifter with a broken back, can’t lift a stone, it plays no role in telling us whether or not a child can.)

 

So what was Moshe’s logical denial to G-d’s command?

 

Last week, on Thursday 23 Teves, the great Gaon, Rabbi Mordechai Gifter z”l passed away. As a student at the Telshe Yeshiva in Europe he developed a strong relationship with one Europe’s foremost scholars of that era, Rav Mordechai Pogramanski z”l. He used to relate on a story Rav Pogramanski would share with his students.

 

A disheveled man was touring the Louvre with a group of tourists. As they passed Rembrandt’s works the man looked at everyone and yelled, “Sour milk!” Puzzled, everyone thought he was crazy. He repeated it again. “It looks like sour milk!”

 

They moved on and passed the Mona Lisa. Again he screamed, Sour milk!” This went on a few more times until a wise man looked at the fellow. “Let me see your glasses.”

The critical man gave them to him. “What did you have for breakfast?” he asked.

“Why cereal and milk,” he answered.

 

The wise man laughed. Look at your glasses! They are speckled with milk! No wonder everything you look at appears as sour milk!

Moshe knew that Jews inherently believe. However, the suffering of hard work and the evil treatment of Egyptian masters tainted their faith. But hard work alone does not taint faith. It is only when it is exasperated by the torment of the taskmasters, and their cruel taunts. How much more so, he figured, would Pharaoh be inattentive of the command that Hashem is in charge, and the Jews should be let free. If hard work stains the thought process, blocking the beauty of Hashem’s word to filter through, how much more so does the idolatry and heresy of Pharaoh impede them from penetrating!

 

We look at Hashem’s creation. We go to synagogue. We hear mussar. We read the prophets. But somehow it does not get through. The words are beautiful. Those who hear them can be inspired. But so many impediments block our vision and our hearing. Our lifestyles. Our desires. Even our work.

 

If we’d open our eyes we would see so much holiness! But only if their glasses are not tainted with sour milk.

 

Dedicated in memory of A. Milton Brown – Avraham Mordechai ben Benzion – Rosh Chodesh Shevat by Mr. and Mrs. Ben Brown

The Effort Department

Parshas Vaera

Posted on December 27, 2021 (5782) By Rabbi Shlomo Jarcaig | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

Following the narrative in which G-d elucidated to Moshe (Moses) how he would approach Pharaoh and Pharaoh would ignore him, the Torah states “Moshe was eighty years old and Aaron was eighty three years old when they spoke to Pharaoh.” (Shemos/Exodus 7:7) As there are no extraneous letters, no less words or phrases, in the Torah’s text, this verse’s presence is perplexing. The Torah is very clear about Moshe and Aaron’s ages at their death, and that they died in the fortieth year of the travels in the wilderness; why do we need to have their current ages calculated? More so, what is the significance of their age at this time; if Moshe had been sixty-three or seventy-seven, would it change the impact of the narrative? Finally, of all the events at this stage in Jewish history, why does the age need to be told specifically “when they spoke to Pharaoh”?

 

Rabbi Shimon Schwab (1) explains that the Torah emphasized their ages because of their significance to Pharaoh’s own decrees: eighty three years previous Pharaoh instructed the Jewish midwives that all Jewish male children were to be killed immediately after birth, and three years later the order was revised to demand all Jewish male children be thrown into the Nile. These decrees, executed to prevent the existence of a redeemer who would lead the Jewish people out of Egypt, actually spawned Moshe’s elevation to greatness. Without Pharaoh’s command, Moshe would never have been hidden in the basket and cast into the Nile, never have been taken in by Pharaoh’s daughter, never been raised in Pharaoh’s own home and never learned the requisite lessons of leadership. Pharaoh’s efforts to the contrary notwithstanding, the Divine will came to fruition, as it always had and always will.

 

No matter the lessons to be learned from historical experience – whether one’s own experience or the experience of others related by reliable narratives – all human beings, like Pharaoh, want to believe that the events around them are as simple as they appear to one’s own perception.

 

Everyone rationally knows that he cannot possibly fathom the entirety of every scenario into which he enters, but now in that situation, he is forced to absorb the reality and make snap decisions. The “Pharaoh”s of the world have nothing to follow but their limited scope of vision and their feeble intellects to navigate this expansive universe of reality; good fortune to them.

 

But the G-d conscious Jew knows that he is not in control; he understands that his Heavenly Parent is in full control and has addressed every perceptible and imperceptible variable. The Divine will come to fruition, as it always has and always will. The G-d conscious Jew knows that his job is “simple”: forge the bond of love and trust with the Divine Parent by following the timeless instruction offered in the Torah as he makes his best effort to attend to the situation.

As Rabbi Tarfon taught us (Pirkei Avos/Ethics of Our Fathers 2:20-21), “The day is short, the task is abundant…you are not required to complete the task, yet you are not free to withdraw from it.”

 

A parable is told of a man who works in the production department of a large manufacturing concern, who is asked about the health of the company’s sales. The production worker responds that production is as busy as always, so he does not think about sales. “My job is production. My attention and energy are consumed by my focus on my production objectives.

 

Just as the people in sales trust me to produce the product they are selling, I trust them to sell the product I am manufacturing. I do my job and they do theirs.” The G-d conscious Jew knows his production objective is clear: build and strengthen his G-d consciousness by utilizing the direction of the Torah – the manual of Divine “production specifications” – while he expends his best effort to address life’s challenges. He does not worry about the end result because he is fully focused on his job in the “effort department”. Results? That is G-d’s department.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

 

The Least Obvious Leader

Parshas Shemos

Posted on January 15, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The Torah, Jewish history and tradition indicate to us that Heaven oftentimes chooses unusual people for roles that are essential and pivotal in Jewish leadership. King David is a clear example of this historical phenomenon. But I think that we can agree that the choice of Moshe to be the redeemer and eternal teacher of the Jewish people, if not of all civilization, is, at first blush, a strange one.

 

Moshe has been separated from the Jewish people for decades. Egyptian law had previously slated him for the death penalty for striking an Egyptian taskmaster who was beating a Jewish slave. Moshe is a shepherd in Midian, far removed from his brethren suffering in Egyptian bondage. And when presented by Heaven with the offer of Jewish leadership, Moshe declines it very forcefully. But the will of Heaven prevails, as is always the case.

 

Moshe must now embark on his new role of leadership, albeit seemingly reluctantly. He himself wonders why he is begin chosen, when, logically, his brother Aaron would seem to be a better fit for the mission. And, perhaps just as amazing as the choice of Moshe for this position of leadership, is the willingness of the Jewish people to instantly accept him as being entitled and fit for that role.

 

To most of the Jewish people he is a stranger, an outsider who has a speech impediment and is, at most, a Johnny-come-lately to their troubles and situation. Yet, again we see that it is the will of Heaven that prevails, and it is only through Moshe that the story of the Exodus from Egypt will unfold.

 

Moshe, however, has outstanding qualities and traits of character that make him the greatest leader in Jewish and world history. Foremost among these attributes is his trait of humility. All leaders must have an appreciation of their talents and possess strong self-worth. However, most leaders are eventually undone by the growth of their egos and the resulting arrogance.

 

Not so Moshe. For even after forty years of leading his people, the Torah still describes Moshe as being the most humble of all human beings on the face of the earth.

 

It is this trait that makes him the greatest of all past and future prophets. Moshe also has within himself an unquenchable love for his people. His love for them is sorely tested many times during his forty-year career as their leader, but in spite of all of their backsliding, sins, rebellions and mutterings, it is Moshe’s love of the people that remains omnipresent and steadfast. As King Solomon wrote: “Love obliterates all transgressions.”

Finally, Moshe’s path to complete the mission that Heaven thrust upon him never wavers, no matter what the events and circumstances may be. These noble traits and characteristics are apparently what the Almighty searches for in assigning leaders to our people. Moshe is the model for future Jewish leaders in all generations that will follow him.

 

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Simply Qualified

Parshas Shemos

Posted on January 9, 2023 (5783) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

As the book of Exodus begins, it is important to ponder what catapulted Moshe (Moses) from the position of valiant citizen to national leader. The story of Moshe’s youth in Egypt is hardly expounded upon in the Torah. Yes, it tells the story of his birth and his escape in the Nile River.

 

The Torah even mentions his great vigilance in smiting an Egyptian who struck a Hebrew. But in relating those stories, it does not leave us feeling that those acts, merited Divine ordination. It tells the tale of Moshe stopping a fight between two Hebrew fellows, and how he was forced to flee from Egypt to the wilderness of Midian because of his strong stand in chastising those Jews who quarreled. All those stories show perseverance, courage, and fortitude. Yet not one of those incidents is juxtaposed with the Divine revelation that catapults Moshe into the great spiritual and prophetic leader whom we know.

 

Even after the event in which he saves Yisro’s (Jethro) seven daughters from evil shepherds G-d is silent, there is no pronouncement of Moses’ glory or appointment of a Divine role. Hashem declares Moshe’s greatness in the context of a very simple serene story.

 

“Moses was shepherding the sheep of Jethro his father-in-law, he guided them into the wilderness, and he arrived at the mountain of G-d toward Horeb. An angel of G-d appeared to him in a blaze of fire from amidst the bush, and he saw that the bush was burning, and the bush was not consumed. Moshe looked and analyzed the sight and he questioned, “why is the bush not being burned?” (Exodus 3:1-3). It is only in that serene setting that G-d called out “Moshe, Moshe,” to which Moshe replied “Here I am.” The end of that story is the beginning of the Jewish nation.

 

Why is the act of shepherding sheep the setting for such majestic and Divine revelation? What amazing incident occurred during the shepherding? Why didn’t G-d appear to Moses after his courageous act of smiting the Egyptian or after he reproached two Hebrews who were fighting? Wouldn’t that setting be the ripe moment for induction into the halls of prophecy and leadership?

 

James Humes, a speechwriter for President Reagan, tells the story about a young recruit who was drafted into the army. During the interview, the sergeant asked him the following question, “Did you have six years of grade school education?”

 

“Sure thing, Sir”, snapped the recruit. “I also graduated with honors from high school. I went to Yale where I received my college degree and then I did my graduate work at Colombia University, and,” he added, “I received my doctorate in political science at Harvard.”

 

The sergeant turned toward to the stenographer, smiled, and said, “Put a check in the space marked literate.”

 

The Midrash tells us that during Moshe’s tenure as a shepherd, one of the sheep ran away. He chased the sheep, he brought it back to the rest of the flock, and he carried it home. G-d looked upon him and said, “A man who cares for his sheep, will care for his people.” That act catapulted Moshe to the position we know.

 

Acts that are bold and courageous may personify leadership, character, and commitment. People think that they that only those gallant and daring acts that will catapult them into greatness and glory. The Torah tells us that it is not so.

 

The Torah links Moshe’s selection to Divine leadership with the simple task of shepherding. The qualifications that G-d wants are not necessarily what humans perceive. We often look for honors, accolades, achievements, and accomplishments that are almost superhuman. Hashem, on the other hand, cherishes simple shepherding, He loves care and concern for simple Jews. We may come to Him with resumés of brilliance, of courage, of valor, but He does not need that.

 

He wants consistency, love, compassion, and, perhaps most of all, humble simplicity.

 

Moshe had those qualities too. It was those qualities of compassion, not the forceful qualities of attacking the Egyptian taskmaster, nor fending off evil shepherds, nor chastising combative Hebrews, that were chosen to cast Moshe into the light of leadership. We may be bold and courageous, but without compassion for the little things, without the humility to find lost sheep, we may be simply overqualified.

 

 

A Glimpse of the Future

Parshas Vayechi

Posted on December 14, 2021 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

If we could look into the future and discover when the major events in our lives will take place, would we do it? If we could ascertain the exact dates on which we will marry, have children and pass away from this world, would we want to know? Most people would rather live with the uncertainty than face the possibility of an unpleasant certainty.

 

In this week’s portion, however, we seem to find an opposite view. As the final minutes of his life draw near, the old patriarch Jacob summons his sons to his bedside. With his great powers of divine inspiration, he sees the long exile of the Jewish people stretching far into the future, but as he continues to look, he also sees the arrival of the End of Days when the exile will come to an end.

 

“Gather around,” he says to his family, “and I will tell you about the End of Days.” But then he goes on to speak of other matters. What happened? The Sages tell us that Jacob attempted to reveal the end of history to his family. But the Divine Spirit departed from him, and his vision faded away.

 

The questions immediately arise: Why did Jacob want to tell them when the exile would come to an end? Especially in light of what we now know, that it would take thousands of years, wouldn’t it only have disheartened and discouraged them? Furthermore, if Jacob felt there was a purpose in telling them, why indeed didn’t Hashem allow him to do so?

 

The commentators explain that Jacob had no intention of revealing the date of the End of Days to his children. There certainly would have been no point in doing so. Rather, he wanted to give them a glimpse of what awaits them in the End of Days. He wanted them to see the idyllic future world suffused with the unrestricted emanations of the Divine Presence, a world of perfect harmony and peace in which all humankind will be blessed with unlimited knowledge and transcendent insight. This was the image he wanted to impress on their minds so that they would not succumb to despair during the tribulations of the dark years of exile.

 

But Hashem did not allow him to do so. The kindness of a father’s heart had motivated Jacob to reveal this image to his children, but as is often the case, this well-intentioned kindness would ultimately deprive them of immeasurable reward. If the Jewish people had seen a clear prophetic image of the rewards in store for them in the future, they would naturally be motivated to persevere and struggle against all odds to fulfill the Torah and achieve those rewards. In that case, though, they would be doing it for their own benefit rather than out of love for Hashem. But as long as they have no such images in their minds, their continued loyalty to the Creator through the worst of times remains an expression of incredibly powerful faith and love for Him, and their reward will be proportionately bountiful.

 

A mother gave her two sons jigsaw puzzles and sent them off to play.

 

A long while later, she went to check on the them. Both boys had completed their puzzles.

One of them jumped up and ran to her. “Look, it’s all done,” he said proudly. “Could you frame it and hang it on the wall?”

 

“Certainly,” she said. Then she turned to her other son and asked, “Do you want me to frame yours as well?”

 

The boy shrugged and shook his head. “Nah. It was no big deal. You don’t have to.”

The mother was perplexed. “But your brother wants his framed. Why don’t you want the same for yours?”

 

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the boy. “He didn’t look at the picture before he did the puzzle, so I guess it was a pretty big deal for him. But I looked at the picture first, so it wasn’t such a big deal.”

 

In our own lives, we are all faced with periods of discouragement and even hopelessness during which we would be much relieved if we could steal a glimpse of Hashem’s hidden hand at work. How much easier it would be to deal with the vicissitudes of fortune if we understood how everything leads to the ultimate good. But it is in this very darkness, when we stand on the verge of despair, that we must discern Hashem’s closeness by our faith alone and feel ourselves enveloped in His loving embrace..

 

Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

 

Aging Gracefully        Parshas Vayechi

Posted on December 14, 2021 (5782) By Rabbi Pinchas Avruch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

“And it came to pass after these matters that [the messenger] said to Yosef (Joseph), ‘Behold, your father is ill.’…(Beraishis/Genesis 48:1) This is the first time in the history of the world that someone became sick.

 

Yalkut Shimoni (1)(Chayai Sarah 105) narrates that Avraham requested from G-d the phenomenon of visible aging, for he feared that when father and son entered a room people would not know whom to give honor first, so G-d granted him his wish, with him as the first recipient. Yitzchak (Isaac) requested suffering before death, for he feared the result of the process of Divine judgment if one never had the warning to do teshuva (regret one’s misdeeds and resolve to return to G-d’s path), so G-d granted him his wish, with him as the first recipient.

 

Yaakov (Jacob) requested illness, for he feared the consequences of not having a few days to resolve outstanding issues between one’s children. G-d granted him his wish, with him as the first recipient.

 

Michtav Me’Eliyahu (2) explains that each of our saintly forefathers made requests consistent with his most pronounced character trait. Avraham, known for his acts of chesed (loving kindness), appreciated the need for giving genuine honor to his fellow human. G-d concurred to the great impediment this indistinguishability placed on one’s Divine service through chesed. Yitzchak’s focus was on justice, and he recognized the great tragedy in the afterlife that awaited one who did not do teshuva. Therefore, he beseeched a mechanism in this life that would awaken the consciousness to this inevitability so that the requisite correction could be made.

 

Yaakov’s pursuit was perfection and completion, seeking resolution between opposing forces. Prior to death, a simple declaration of one’s will was insufficient; efforts needed to be made to ensure that the children accepted the determination. He understood that there would continue to be jealousy unless everyone genuinely felt his interests had been served, that there could be no peace (shalom) between parties without feeling a sense of wholeness (shleimus). This could not be accomplished with the suddenness that accompanied natural death at that time. G-d’s accommodation was extended illness.

 

Rabbi Akiva taught us (Tractate Berachos 60b) that one should regularly remind himself that all that G-d does is for the good. There are tragedies that challenge our faith in this maxim, such as the difficulties that comes with aging. But our Sages remind us often that trials are given to us as growth opportunities (see Kol HaKollel Parshas Lech Lecha 5764), and G-d, in his infinite kindness and love for us, granted our forefathers’ requests for the growth opportunities of aging. Our challenge is to maximize our utilization of them.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!