Countering Chaos
Parshas Bechukosai
Posted on May 27, 2022 (5782) By Mordechai
Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner
The majority of this
week’s reading is devoted to G-d’s warning of severe curses that will come upon
the Jewish nation, if it acts with disregard for the laws of the Torah. As
these curses come from a loving G-d, they
stem from a place of love, and are a warning intended to spur change. About
this King Solomon wrote “The discipline of G-d, my son,
do not detest, and do not loathe His reproach. For whom G-d loves,
He reproaches, and as a father to a son, He will conciliate (Proverbs 3:11-12).”
As the reading turns to a
second, new round of more severe curses, those words are preceded with words of
guidance: “And if as a result of these [curses] you will not turn to Me, and
you proceed with your lawlessness, I too will proceed with lawlessness…” It’s
puzzling that this verse expresses G-d’s absolute justice as “lawlessness,”
though it comes in response to Israel’s similar behavior — lawlessness for
lawlessness. How could lawlessness, a lack of justice, be considered justice?
The regular protection of G-d is a blessing we often overlook, and that is
what this verse intends to remind us about. If G-d removes
His protection, the consequence is that we are left abandoned in a lawless
world, where the elements of nature and man immediately endanger us. We are
ordinarily under G-d’s constant protection, ensuring that our bodies function
properly, and that we are safe from the dangers of our environment. The moment
that protection is removed, we are vulnerable. (Based on the teachings of HaRav
Yaakov Weinberg zt”l).
The modern world comes
with many freedoms, for which we are grateful. However, what we see is that
when freedom becomes the ultimate value, people demand to be free of even the
most sensible restrictions on their personal liberty.
This is the challenge our world
faces at this moment. We can’t ignore the effect it has on our personal
attitudes, especially our spiritual life. When society throws off the
restraints of civilization, we must strengthen and embrace G-d’s guiding laws.
When governments drop their
restrictions, lives are endangered by the environment of lawlessness. To merit
G-d’s protection from this loss of control, we need to embrace the controls G-d has blessed us with.
A Mountain of Inspiration
Parshas Behar
Posted on May 18, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Berel
Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner
This week’s portion
creates an eternal connection between Mount Sinai, the Jewish people, and the
Torah itself. The fact that the Torah emphasizes its eternal association with
Mount Sinai is meant to teach us important lessons regarding Judaism and Jewish
life.
There are grand and
majestic mountains that dot our planet. They are awe-inspiring in their height
and strength, and they tower over us, making us feel puny and insignificant
when standing at their base. I remember that when I was able to visit Mount
McKinley in Alaska, a mountain which rises vertically more than 20,000 feet
above the plane from which it emanates, the feeling of tension was so
overpowering that people in our tour group burst into tears. The mountain
blocks out the sun and creates its own weather.
However, the Torah was not
given to human beings on Mount McKinley or Mount Everest or any of the other
great mastiffs that exist in our world. Midrash teaches
us that Mount Sinai was and is a relatively low mountain. The rabbis derived
from this the emphasis on and the requirements of humility. Arrogance and
godly values do not coexist. So, even though Mount Sinai is a mountain, it
is a low mountain, one that can be scaled and conquered. And the achievement of
climbing that mountain will not produce fanfare or notoriety.
If the Torah had been
granted on Mount Everest it would be unreachable for almost all human beings.
It was given on Mount Sinai, to emphasize that it is accessible to all, and
that even though it is a mountain, it is one that can and must be scaled, to
achieve the eternity that it promises human beings.
From the top of a
mountain, one has a majestic view of the surrounding area. A mountain peak
provides us with perspective, and the ability to judge the world from an
overview as an observer, even though we are participants. Without that
overview, is very difficult to make sense of life, or to have any personal
sense of serenity or peace.
The prophet tells us that
the wicked are like the raging sea whose waves constantly batter the shoreline
but are always limited. Mountains, when appreciated, give us the blessings of
unique wisdom, patience, and a sense of optimism and hope in our lives, no
matter how bleak events may be, or how worrisome situations are.
Our father Abraham founded
the Jewish people and brought “godliness” down to our earth. He saw that
measure of godliness as being in the form of a mountain. His son, Isaac, would
modify it so that it would become like a field. And his grandson Jacob would
see it as being a house. But all of these characteristics still remain within
Judaism. Mount Sinai exemplifies the mountain that Abraham saw.
Life is never an easy
climb, but climb it we must, to be able to stand at its peak, and truly observe
life in society in a measured and wise way.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein
Grateful
Bread
Parshas Behar Bechukosai
Posted on May 18, 2002 (5782) By Rabbi Mordechai
Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha| Level: Beginner
It is rare to read two
Torah portions together, each with nearly the exact verse. This week we read
two portions: B’har, which commands the laws of shmita in which the Jewish
nation lets its land lie fallow, and B’chukosai, which entails both blessing
and curses bestowed upon the Jewish nation in response to its behavior.
But in each portion there
is a similar blessing. The Torah tells us, both B’har and in B’chukosai, that
if we deserve blessing then “you shall eat to satisfaction and live securely in
your land.” (Leviticus 25:19 & Leviticus 26:5) Each time the Torah talks about eating to
satisfaction, an agricultural issue, it suffixes a security issue. Now there
are verses that deal with the curse of war and the blessing of peace. But why
mention tranquility with eating?
Yankel was a vagabond.
Every Friday he would spend the last of his few zloty at the bathhouse and
barber and, well groomed, he would present himself in the synagogue as a
respected businessperson from out-of-town. Then he would usually get a
sumptuous Shabbos meal at the home of the wealthiest Jew
in town. One Friday afternoon he was in the city of Lodz and inquired about the
wealthiest Jew. “Velvel, the banker,” he was told “is definitely the wealthiest
Jew. But he is also the stingiest. You never get a chance to eat the delicious
dishes that he serves you!”
“How’s that?” asked
Yankel.
“Well, as soon as you take
you first bite he engages you in conversation. You begin to speak, and as soon
as your eyes leave your plate, a waiter comes and snatches your food away!”
With a game plan in mind
Yankel posed as a businessman from Warsaw, and got invited to Reb Velvel’s
magnificent home. The table was set with exquisite china, and the delicious smells
wafting from the kitchen made Yankel’s hungry mouth water.
After kiddush and challah, the
first course was served, a succulent piece of white fish stuffed with gefilte fish. As Yankel speared it with his fork
a voice boomed from the head of the table.
“So, Yankel, tell me, how
is my cousin Shloime feeling? You must know Shloime, the tailor of Podolska
Street in Warsaw?”
Yankel kept his fork
embedded in the fish and held tight as he nodded somberly. “He’s dead.”
“What?” shrieked Reb
Velvel, “Shloime is dead? How can that be?” He ran to the kitchen and shouted
for his wife, while Yankel managed to finish his fish in comfort. He even got
in a few nibbles off an adjoining plate. After the shock wore off, they served
the soup.
After the first sip, the
banker was quick to his old ways. “You don’t happen to know my father’s brother
Reb Dovid the bookbinder, do you?”
With the waiter poised to
pounce, Yankel nodded again. “He died too!”
“What?” cried the stunned
host. “How can that be? I just got a letter from him last week!”
He ran next door to tell
his brother the terrible news — while Yankel calmly finished his soup.
The main course, with
chicken, kugel and tzimmes also saw the death of more members of the Warsaw
community, each tiding throwing the banker into a tizzy. Meanwhile Yankel ate
his portion and all the portions of those who were sickened by the terrible
news that they had just heard.
By the time dessert came,
the banker got hold of the scheme.
“What’s going on?” he
shouted. “Are you trying to tell me that the entire Warsaw has dropped dead?”
“No,” answered Yankel,
“what I am trying to tell you is that when I eat, the whole world drops dead!”
The blessing of plenty is
worthless without serenity. Peace in your land is not only a blessing for
military men. It is a blessing that enhances every aspect of life, from
breaking ground to breaking bread. What good are storehouses of plenty or a
wonderful economy without the peace and harmony in which to enjoy them?
Calm and composure are the
greatest blessing. For without them, the bread of plenty can still be bread of
affliction. The Torah does not give half-baked blessings. It tells us that we
will eat our bread to satisfaction because it guarantees us peace in our land.
For we must not only pray for sustenance, but also health, well being, and
serenity with which to enjoy it.
Good Shabbos
Rabbi Mordechai
Kamenetzky
