The Gateway to Freedom

Parshas Beshalach

Posted on January 24, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Freedom at last! As this week’s portion opens, the Jewish people, three million strong, march out of Egypt in triumph. The mighty hand of Hashem has smashed the chains that enslaved them, but they are not quite rid of their former taskmasters. They are not yet “out of the woods.” They flee through the desert, pursued by the fearsome chariots of the Egyptians, their minds and hearts churning with fear, hope, faith and the intoxication of their newfound freedom.

 

The Torah describes in great detail how, by Hashem’s command, the Jewish people wheeled around to face their pursuers, pitching their camp “before Pi Hachiros, between the tower and the sea, in front of Baal Tzephon.” Pi Hachiros was actually an Egyptian city to which they now gave this Hebrew name, meaning “the Gateway to Freedom.” What was this place, and why did they consider it the gateway to freedom? Rashi explains that the city they chose to rename in commemoration of their emancipation was the border city of Pithom.

 

Pithom! As in “Pithom and Ramses”? How can it be? Earlier, the Torah records that this very city, Pithom, had been built with the backbreaking labor of the enslaved Jewish people. Its soil was soaked with their blood, sweat and tears, its very air full to bursting with the echoes of their groans and cries. If anything, this city was a monument to slavery and oppression. How could the Jewish people view it as “the Gateway to Freedom”?

 

The commentators explain that the spectacular display of miracles that accompanied the Exodus caused the Jewish people to reevaluate their experiences in Egypt. New thoughts began to germinate in their minds. Surely, the G-d who was making a mockery of natural law for their sake, the Creator of the heavens and the earth, could not have “forgotten” them. Surely, the G-d who was now displaying such boundless love for them would not have allowed them to languish for centuries in the misery of Egypt for no purpose. Surely, G-d’s unseen Presence had been beside them during all their pain and suffering. Unknown to them, He had guided them through the “iron crucible,” as our Sages characterized Egypt, refining them and cleansing them of their baser elements, purifying the core of the people who would stand at Mount Sinai and receive His holy Torah.

 

Everything they had experienced suddenly had meaning and purpose. In retrospect, the darkest moments of exile were illuminated by their present knowledge. In retrospect, they saw everything as a gateway to freedom. Even the city of Pithom, invested with so much Jewish pain and suffering, became one of the greatest symbols of their ultimate freedom. And thus, they renamed it Pi Hachiros, “the Gateway to Freedom.”

 

A young orphan was invited to live with his uncle in a distant city. The boy arrived on a stormy winter day, and an old servant asked him to wait in a drafty parlor. Night fell, and his uncle had still not appeared. The boy was given a few hard crusts of bread and some water and shown to a bed which had been prepared for him in a hayloft.

 

The next morning, he was awakened early and given a long list of difficult chores to do, but by nightfall the boy had still not seen his uncle. For many weeks, the boy was forced to endure the cold, the hunger and the aching muscles in his back.

 

One day, the uncle summoned the boy. With tears in his eyes, he hugged his nephew and kissed him.

 

“You must be wondering why I have put you through all this,” he said. “I will explain it to you.

 

Tomorrow, I am leaving this place and traveling to the Holy Land, and I am taking you with me. It is going to be a very difficult journey. You may have to endure all sorts of hardship, and you must be prepared. These last few weeks have toughened you. They have given you the strength to complete the journey that lies ahead of you.”

 

In the journeys of our own lives, we all have our difficult stretches, times of pain, suffering and sorrow, our daily adversities and challenges. Sometimes, we may find it takes all our energies just to cope with what life throws at us, and we cannot even begin to think about living inspired and seeking personal growth. But if we realize G-d is with us always, that He never “forgets” us, we can look beyond the frustrations of the moment. We can draw strength from the thought that one day we will look back on these times with the wisdom of hindsight and see them as the gateways to our freedom.

 

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

 

Interactive Miracles

Parshas Beshalach

Posted on January 28, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

This week we read in the Torah the final chapter of the liberation of the Jewish people from Egyptian bondage and slavery. After centuries of servitude, the children of Jacob are finally freed from their Egyptian taskmasters and embark on their journey of building a civilization.  Yet, the Torah goes to great lengths to point out to us that freedom as a concept cannot exist in a vacuum.

 

The people must have food to eat and water to drink. Though the Jewish people will live for 40 years in an unnatural environment in the desert of Sinai, they do not escape the constant necessities of human life. The Lord will provide these necessities through miracles – bread from heaven and water from the flint rock. These miracles, perhaps like all other miracles, will require human participation – the gathering of the heavenly bread that falls to the earth, and the striking of the rock to force it to give forth waters.

 

It can be asked that if Lord is performing miracles for the Jewish people anyway, then why aren’t the miracles complete, why are they always somehow dependent upon human action as well? The answer to that question lies in the question itself. The adage that G-d helps those who help themselves is a basic tenet and value in Judaism. Miracles provide opportunities, but these, like all opportunities, must be initiated by humans for them to be beneficial and effective.

 

It is  difficult for the Jewish people over the 40-year sojourn in the desert of Sinai to appreciate their newfound freedom. People become accustomed to almost anything, and this includes slavery and servitude. An independent people create their own society, provide their own needs and continually jostle in a contentious world to retain that freedom.

 

A people accustomed to slavery will find this to be particularly challenging. Slavery induced in their minds and spirit a false sense of regularity that bordered upon security. The president of the United States once remarked that if one wants to be certain of having three meals a day, then one should volunteer to spend the rest of one’s life in prison. He will receive this throughout his incarceration.

 

In the story of the Jewish people in the desert, when faced with difficult circumstances and upsetting challenges, there was always the murmur that they should return to Egypt and ‘go back to prison’, for at least then they would be certain of having their three meals a day.

 

According to many Torah commentaries, this was the fundamental reason why the generation that left Egypt could not be the generation that would enter and conquer the land of Israel and establish Jewish independence in their own state and under their own auspices. Psychologically they were not ready to be a free people with all the burdens that accompany freedom and independence. They could accept the Torah, be intellectually religious, admire Moshe and believe in the Almighty. But they were unable to free themselves from the psychological shackles of Egyptian bondage. And there are no miracles that can do that for human beings.

 

Only human beings can do that for themselves.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

A Family

Parshas Bo

Posted on January 7, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah| Level: Beginner

Speak to the entire community of Israel, saying, “On the tenth of this month, let each one take a lamb for each parental home, a lamb for each household. (Shemos 12:3)

 

And these are the names of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt; with Yaakov, each man and his household came. (Shemos 1:1)

 

The Mitzvah of Chanuka is: A candle for each man and his household! (Shabbos 21B)

 

In his Haggadah, Rav Hirsch ztl. notes that the Jewish People were organized as a household unit when they entered the exile and they were also configured as households at the time of the exodus just as we find ourselves on Pesach ever since- not in a stadium but rather at home!

 

On Chanukah too, we rally around the Menorah as a household. The survival of the Jewish People and all civilization, as well, is dependent on the welfare of the family!

 

About the importance of the home as a primary survival unit he writes: “To inherit a home and to build a home – this encompasses a Jew’s ethical vocation on earth. Is it not the sine qua non for the hopes and perfection of all nations? If only this great Magna Carta were consulted wherever education and culture, peace and salvation of men and mankind are discussed. For the fate of men, their success or failure, is decided neither in the chambers of rulers nor on the battlefield. It is not decided in business concerns, in colleges and institutions of arts and sciences or in houses of worship. It is sealed only in one place, in the parental home…

 

There exists no substitute for the home, and if one is looking elsewhere for the source of peace and prosperity, he is searching in vain. All of a nations politics and diplomacy, its theories of national economy and institutions for mass education, its trade and industry, its schools and community centers – none of these will save the people from extinction if they let the parental home become a parody. Are children born for the sake of the state’s false concern instead of the warm love of parents? Does the census show ever-growing numbers of children without parents and parents without children? Does the nation’s high society make a mockery of morality and modesty? If so, then all the palaces it is building are founded on quicksand.”

 

Many years ago, now, my oldest son was just returning from learning in Israel. He was ripe and ready for Shiduchim and we had a stack of resumes of wonderful prospects. My wife and I kept shuffling the papers and as we did we found ourselves getting more confused. This is obviously an important life decision. Every resume, which is admittedly a woefully deficient and two-dimensional representation of a complete person, looked interesting and inviting for different reasons. We could not figure out what was really important. Head of GO, valedictorian, wealthy father, a famous family name, beauty, a good job, a brilliant academic career, which factor or combinations of factors should be attracting our attention.

 

We decided to call our Rebbe. At that time, he had married off 13 of his 14 children and shortly afterwards the 14th as well. He learns 60 Daf of Gemora every day for more than 50 years and we were thinking that perhaps, just perhaps he might have an extra insight or some real-life experience to help us navigate this confusing process. So, one evening we secluded ourselves in a quiet room and made the phone call. He was in Florida at the time convalescing from a shoulder injury. He picked up the phone and greeted me enthusiastically and I told him that I am here with my wife listening and we are trying to figure out what to look for in a Shidduch. My wife sat poised with her pen ready to start writing every word he would utter.

 

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation and he said the following, “A family! A girl comes from a family!

 

Look for a family!” My wife was just beginning to transcribe and then he said something very surprising. He said, “Good night!” and the call ended. I was about to ask if there is anything else or what about a family, but the call was over. My wife asked, “Did we fumble the call?” I told her, “I don’t think so! He said ‘Good night!’”

 

We sat there in stunned silence. All he said was, “Look for a family!” Then it dawned on us that if that’s all he mentioned, then that must be the most important factor. A girl comes from a family! A boy comes from a family! Together they will build a new family. Therefore, the most important thing must be a family!

 

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 loudly 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.

 

What is Normal Life?

Parshas Bo

Posted on January 22, 2021 (5781) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

The current global upheaval due to the raging pandemic, combined with political upheaval, has made us all unsettled; many are even broken and in despair. We all ask, “When will life return to normal?” The Exodus story, which we read about in the Torah portion this week, teaches us a fundamental lesson to help us frame these events and cope with the unexpected twists and turns.

 

The ten plagues were an attack on the Egyptian nation and the natural world order. They demonstrated G-d’s authority and control over all elements of nature. Ultimately, they forced the leader of the civilized world, Pharaoh, a man who made himself a god, into submission. The Al-mighty stripped Pharaoh of his false sense of control over his world, to the point that he begged his Jewish slaves to leave Egypt after the final plague, the Plague of the Firstborn.

 

The Torah portion ends with a selection of Commandments: donning Tefillin (phylacteries), the recounting of the Exodus on Passover, and redeeming the firstborn – all reminders for future generations of the Exodus. The Mitzvos of keeping the Sabbath and observing the Jewish holidays also serve as a reminder of the Exodus, as is reflected in the liturgy recited on those days. The Exodus demonstrated G-d’s dominion over the world, and these Mitzvos, many of them daily, and weekly, would ensure the Jewish people never forget.

 

The message of the Exodus is simple but easily forgotten. Whatever your opinion is of mass media, there’s one thing we can all agree on – its failure to express the hand of G-d of world events. Yet, the fact remains –  G-d is in charge.

 

With the current rollout of the vaccine, and governmental changes, there’s the potential for our own Exodus from this upheaval and a return to normalcy. But times of upheaval, times when G-d’s presence is more obvious, remind us that “normal life” must still have that same awareness of G-d’s constant involvement in public and private affairs. Adam, the first man, was fully aware of G-d in his life, and the actions of man that followed muddled that reality through the generations that would follow. The lessons of the Exodus were a “reset” for the world, allowing all to see the reality of G-d’s involvement once again. That’s what a return to normalcy looks like – a return to the normalcy of Adam’s freshly minted world.

 

We all crave the return to the comfort of how things used to be, but our souls will only find true comfort with the knowledge of our Creator’s constant presence in our lives. I do hope life returns to normal soon. It is also my hope and prayer, that we listen to the lessons of the Exodus, and the feelings of our soul, to recognize “normal life” as it was meant to be. (Based on Ramban Ex. 13:16).

 

 

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 on 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 can not lift the stone, surely a child can not!)

 

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 refutation 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

 

Coming to Terms with Exile

Parshas Vaera

Posted on January 19, 2023 (5783) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

The story is told about a political prisoner in a dark dungeon who always kept his eyes closed. Whenever he needed something, he would grope for it without opening his eyes.

 

“Why don’t you open your eyes?” a fellow prisoner once asked him. “If you keep them open for a while, they’ll get used to the darkness, and you’ll be able to see a little.”

 

“That is exactly my reason,” he replied. “I don’t want to get used to this place. I never want to forget that I am living in darkness.”

 

One of the gravest dangers in any adverse situation is that we may resign ourselves to it.

 

The first step towards redemption, therefore, is the reversal of the mentality of the oppressed, the reawakening of hope and aspiration for freedom.

 

In this week’s portion, when Hashem promises to take the Jewish people out of Egypt, He uses the famed “four expressions of redemption.” The first of these is (6:6), “And I will take you out from under the burdens of Egypt.” Some commentators point out that the Hebrew word for “burdens,” sivlos, can alternatively be translated as “forbearance.” The verse would then read, “And I will take you out from bearing Egypt.” The Jewish people had learned to tolerate and “bear” the exile. They had come to terms with a life devoid of spiritual fulfillment and human dignity. They lived for the existence of the moment, unable even to think about the transcendent qualities of their former lives.

 

This was Hashem’s promise. First and foremost, He would take them out of this soporific state and energize them with the spirit of freedom. so that they would no longer be able to tolerate the darkness. They would chafe at their bonds and their estrangement from the spiritual heritage of their forefathers. Their spirits would be revived, and they would regain their former high aspirations. They would no longer be slaves, but free people enchained. This had to be the first stage of their redemption, for otherwise they would forever remain slaves without masters.

 

The second stage could now follow. Hashem would break those chains and raise the Jewish people up to undreamed of heights.

 

In our present exile, we are, thank Heaven, no longer physically enslaved, but to a large extent, we lack the desire to break free. Our spiritual senses have been dulled, and we have become immune to the pain of exile. We are content not to “rock the boat.” As long as we enjoy the comforts offered by contemporary society, we do not feel deprived of a utopian Israel with a rebuilt Temple and all the Jewish people living together in harmony and spiritual bliss. It is a deprivation to which we have been immunized by the long exile, but a tremendous deprivation nonetheless.

 

A great sage was staying at an inn far from his home. Late at night, he sat down to say the Tikkun Chatzos, the lamentations over the destruction of the Temple that pious people say after midnight.

 

The sage was so moved by the words of the lamentations that he burst into tears.

 

The innkeeper came running. “Rabbi, rabbi, what happened? Why are you crying?”

 

“Because our holy Temple was destroyed,” said the rabbi. “Ah, if only the Messiah would come already and take us all out of this exile! Don’t you dream of such a day?”

 

The innkeeper fidgeted. “Well, what about my inn? What would happen to it? And what about my goats and my chickens? Will I have to leave them behind?”

 

“Your goats! Your chickens! Forget about them. Think about the wonderful life that awaits us in Israel.”

 

“Well, to tell you the truth, rabbi. I’m doing fine right here. I’m not sure I want to change things so much.”

 

“But don’t you ever have trouble from the local riffraff that call you a zhid and steal your chickens in the night?” the rabbi asked, trying to find a way to inspire the simple innkeeper to yearn for redemption.

 

“Yes, you are right,” said the innkeeper, his brow darkening for a moment, but he immediately brightened. “I have an idea, rabbi! Let’s send all the riffraff to Israel, then we can live here in peace.

 

That would be a fine redemption!”

 

We need to realize that, no matter how comfortable we are, the world we live in is far from perfect. Strife and hatred, ignorance and bigotry still plague our society. We need to look beyond what we have in our own comfortable little niches and see what we are missing. Yes, we all aspire to a utopian world, but we must first appreciate that there can be no utopia without spirituality. Only in the context of this appreciation can we truly yearn for the redemption. And only though genuine yearning can we hope to achieve it.

 

Text Copyright © 2010 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

 

 

The Strife Factor

Parshas Shemos

Posted on January 3, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Moses did not grow up among the Jewish people, although he bore them a passionate love.

 

During the decrees of infanticide, (the crime of killing a child within a year of its birth) an Egyptian princess had discovered the infant Moses hidden among the bulrushes of the Nile River and reared him as her own.

 

Although surrounded by luxury and opulence, the thought of his people enslaved and oppressed gave Moses no rest. Finally, when he was old enough, he set out to see firsthand the suffering of his people and to find how he could help alleviate it. As he ventured forth, he encountered a sadistic Egyptian taskmaster beating a Jewish laborer brutally. Overcome with compassion, Moses struck down the Egyptian tormentor and buried the corpse in the sand, unaware that he had been observed by a pair of Jews named Dathan and Abiram.

 

The next day, Moses saw Dathan and Abiram fighting each other.

 

“Villain!” Moses cried. “Why do you strike your fellow Jew?”

 

They turned to Moses with disdain and said, “So what do you propose to do? Will you murder us as you murdered the Egyptian?”

 

Moses was shocked. “Aha, the thing is known,” he cried out.

 

On the surface, it would seem that Moses was shocked at finding out his killing of the Egyptian was no secret. But the Midrash reads a deeper meaning into these words. Aha, Moses was saying, this is why the Jewish people continue to suffer in exile. If they are capable of strife and informing on each other, they are not deserving of redemption.

 

But let us reflect for a moment. Was this the worst of their sins? The Jews had been thoroughly contaminated by Egyptian society. Their behavior were barely distinguishable from that of the Egyptians; their lives were characterized by idolatry and immorality. Nonetheless, in spite of all this dreadful sinfulness, Moses had found the Jewish suffering inexplicable. But now that he saw two Jews fighting, he finally understood the cause of the Jewish exile. How can this be?

 

Furthermore, the Sages tell us the Second Temple was destroyed because of unjustified hatred Jews harbored in their hearts against each other. How are we to understand this? Many other sins incur punishments far more severe that does unjustified hatred. Why then did this particular sin bring on the destruction of the Temple and the removal of the Divine Presence from among the Jewish people for thousands of years?

 

The commentators point out that the revelation of the Divine Presence in this world is really a paradox. How can the ultimate manifestation of spirituality reside in a physical world? It can only be done, they explain, by creating an oasis of spirituality to serve in the physical world, an oasis composed not of physical elements such as bricks and mortar, of soil and grass but of a community of people whose spiritual essence is paramount in their existence. Collectively, these people form an island of transcendent spirituality upon which the Divine Presence descends.

 

But how do we measure if a community is genuinely spiritual? It is in their relationships with others. Materialistic people see others as adversaries and are always jealously protective of their own status and domain. Spiritual people, in tune with eternity, are above these petty concerns; strife and egotism have no place in their world. Therefore, interpersonal relations are the barometer which tell us if the community is worthy of having the Divine Presence in its midst. If the strife factor is low, then the spirituality level is high, and Hashem comes among them. In Egypt and at the end of the Second Temple era, however, the strife factor was high, and the Divine Presence left the Jewish people.

 

Two boys were fighting in school, shouting and pummeling each other until one of the teachers pulled them apart.

 

When tempers cooled, the teacher called the boys to the front of the classroom.

 

“Do you understand what a terrible thing you did?” he asked.

 

“But he started up with me!” said one boy.

 

“Make two fists,” the teacher said to the boy.

 

The boy complied, and the teacher took the two fists in his hands and pounded them against each other.

 

“Ouch!” the boy screamed. “It hurts!”

 

“Exactly,” said the teacher. “When your friend suffers pain, it should also hurt you. When you hit him, it is as if you are hitting yourself!”

 

In our own lives, as we aspire to raise our level of our spirituality through studying the Torah and living by its values and ideals, how can we determine if we are truly connecting with the divine? We can do so by measuring the strife factor in our daily existence. If we live in harmony with other people, appreciating the goodness inherent in all of them, if our lives are essentially free of strife and discord, then we have indeed attained a high level of spirituality and forged an eternal bond with our Father in Heaven.

Never Lose a Holy Curiosity

Parshas Shemos

Posted on January 5, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah| Level: Beginner

Moshe was pasturing the flocks of Yisro, his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flocks after the free pastureland, and he came to the mountain of G-d, to Horeb. An angel of HASHEM appeared to him in a flame of fire from within the thorn bush, and behold, the thorn bush was burning with fire, but the thorn bush was not being consumed. So, Moshe said, “Let me turn now and see this great spectacle why does the thorn bush not burn up?” HASHEM saw that he had turned to see, and G-d called to him from within the thorn bush, and He said, “Moshe, Moshe!” And he said, “Here I am!” And He said, “Do not draw near here.

 

Take your shoes off your feet, because the place upon which you stand is holy soil.” (Shemos 3:1-5)

 

Why does the Holy Torah begin with the letter Beis and not Alef which is the first letter? Right from the very beginning the Torah and life is riddled with essential questions. Why is that so? Is this world and is the Torah an answer book or a question book?

 

Pardon the “secular” reference but I remember there used to be a game show, called “Jeopardy”. The format, if I remember correctly, was a little odd. One would be given a piece of information and that needed to be assigned to the correct question. Fact: “Elizabeth!” Question: “Who was the last Queen of England?” That’s how it goes!

 

Learning Rashi can be like that very often. He provides some important information and we are left to figure out: “What burning question is Rashi coming to answer?” The assumption is that if everything was clear then he would say nothing.

 

A simple case is the burning bush. Moshe is told to remove his shoes and the reason that is given is because, “the place upon which you stand is holy soil”. Rashi adds here to the words “is holy soil (adama)”: “The place”. Now why is that necessary? The Sifsei Chachamim explains that there seems to be a confusion in the verse. The word for ground – “Adama” is feminine and yet it is referred to with a masculine pronoun – “Hu”. Rashi clarifies that “Hu” is in reference to the “place” and not specifically to the earth in that place.

 

So, it goes with all the phenomena of this world. The universe is filled with myriads of facts and answers. What questions are they coming to answer? Who made this? What does it teach us? What is its purpose? An anonymous philosopher once stated, “There is nothing more irrelevant than the answer to a question that was never asked? Maybe now we can understand why the game was called “Jeopardy”. If we fail to ask the right question then everything in the world is at risk of being rendered irrelevant! If we ask the right questions with enough genuine curiosity then everything has the possibility of becoming ultimately meaningful!

 

It is no mistake, therefore, that the beginning of the exodus, the initiation of the one who would lead the Jewish Nation not just out of Egypt but to Mount Sinai where we would receive the Torah, begins with a test of his inquisitiveness. Moshe notices a burning bush that is blazing with fire but not being consumed by that fire. He is busy with his flock but he pauses to study this phenomenon and asks a simple question, “why does the thorn bush not burn up?” Only when HASHEM sees that his interest is piqued by this visage does He call out to Moshe.

 

The Ramchal writes in Derech Etz Chaim: “A man, most of his years are spent in thinking thoughts on his businesses, business of this temporary world. Why does he not put to heart even one hour also on thinking these other things “What is he? Why did he come to this world?

 

Or what does the King of kings seek from him? What will be the end of his matter? … “What did the early ones, the fathers of the world do that G-d desired in them? What did Moshe Rabeinu do? What did David, the Moshiach Hashem do, and all the Gedolim who lived before us?”

 

Albert Einstein, the icon of secular Jewish genius, said, “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”

 Leadership Qualities

Parshas Shemos

Posted on January 4, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Moses, the chosen messenger of the Master of the Universe, came riding out of the desert into the fabled kingdom of Egypt. With nothing more than the staff in his hand and his brother Aaron at his side, he strode into the royal palace, confronted Pharaoh and demanded, “Let my people go!”

 

Thus began the spectacular story of the Exodus. Time and again, Moses confronted the belligerent Pharaoh, and after each refusal, he visited a shattering new plague onto Egypt until it was beaten into submission, and the enslaved Jewish people were finally free. As for Moses, he has come down to us as the greatest leader of all time, the man who single-handedly took on the might of the entire Egyptian kingdom and prevailed.

 

But let us stop and think for a moment. Wherein exactly lay the greatness of Moses in his mission to Egypt? Every step he took, every word he spoke, every move he made was choreographed by Hashem. Hashem told him exactly when and where to go, exactly what to say, exactly what to do. All Moses had to do was follow his instructions faithfully. He had no personal input into any aspect of his spectacular performance. Why then is Moses considered such a towering figure in the history of the Exodus?

 

The commentators explain that the one critical element that would determine the success or failure of his mission was entirely in Moses’s control. “I want you to know,” Hashem said to him, “that you are going on the condition that you perform my wonders in front of Pharaoh without fearing him.” Without fearing him. This was the key.

 

As Hashem’s chosen messenger, Moses enjoyed full divine protection, and he knew full well that Pharaoh could not harm him. But it is one thing to know this intellectually and quite another to feel it in one’s heart. According to the Midrash, Pharaoh’s throne was surrounded by snarling lions and fierce warriors, and Pharaoh himself was an exceedingly intimidating tyrant.

 

No matter how sure Moses was that he would come to no harm, could he enter such a scenario without a twinge of trepidation in his heart? And yet, if he had exhibited the slightest tremor in his voice, the slightest flutter of his heart, the slightest blink of his eye, he would have compromised his entire mission. Hashem had sent Moses to demonstrate His absolute mastery over Pharaoh, to show that Pharaoh was utterly nothing, putty in the hands of Heaven.

 

Therefore, had Moses felt any fear, he would have acknowledged Pharaoh as an adversary, albeit an infinitely weaker one, and thereby doomed his mission to failure.

 

Here then lay the greatness of Moses. He saw clearly that there is no power in the world other than Hashem, that Pharaoh in contraposition to G-d was a total nonentity, unworthy of even the slightest smidgen of fear. Therefore, when Moses walked fearlessly into Pharaoh’s palace, everyone, Egyptian and Jew alike, knew that Hashem was in absolute control.

 

A great general, who was in the process of mounting an invasion of a neighboring country, called a meeting of his most trusted advisors. “Gentlemen, I have a problem,” the general began. “I had hoped to win fame and glory for our armies during this campaign by thoroughly trouncing the enemy. But wherever my armies appear, the enemy flees. We have still had no opportunity to engage them in battle and destroy them. How can we get the enemy to stand and fight?”

 

“We take hostages,” said one advisor. “That will force them to fight.”

 

“We plan ambushes,” said another. “We cut off their escape routes.”

 

Other advisers suggested yet other ruses to force the enemy to fight.

 

“You are all wrong,” said one old advisor. “If the enemy flees whenever your armies appear, what greater glory can there be?”

 

In our own lives, we often face trials and challenges that strike fear into our hearts. Whether the threat is to our health, financial security, family life or anything else, the effect can be frightening and, indeed, devastating. But if we can find the strength to look at the world in the broader perspective, if we recognize that we are all messengers of Heaven doing his bidding here on the face of the earth, we will discover that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. As long as we connect ourselves to the infinite reality of the Creator, all our worries pale into insignificance.

 

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

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