Close To The Chest

 

“and the fourth row: tarshish, shoham, and yashfeh…” (28:20)

Aharon wore an ornament on his chest called the “Choshen”; it had gold settings into which twelve precious gems were placed. Each gem represented one of the twelve sons of Yaakov.

 

The last of the Choshen’s gems was the “yashpeh”. Rabbeinu Bechaya cites a Midrash which connects the yashpeh stone with the Tribe of Binyamin. Yashpeh, explains the Midrash, is a contraction of the words “yesh” and “peh” – “has a mouth”; it was chosen to represent Binyamin because its name reflects a praiseworthy trait displayed by him. Although Binyamin was aware that his brothers sold Yoseif into slavery, he did not reveal their actions to his father.

 

[1] If Binyamin was being lauded for his silence, why was the gem called “yashpeh” – “has a mouth”? Should the more appropriate name not be “ainpeh” – “has no mouth”? What trait did Binyamin exhibit through his silence?

 

The Talmud relates that Yaakov suspected that Lavan may attempt to substitute Leah for Rachel. Therefore, as a preventative measure he gave Rachel a secret password which would identify her to him on their wedding night. At the thought of her sister’s public humiliation Rachel revealed to Leah the password which enabled Lavan’s subterfuge to be successful.

 

The Talmud identifies Rachel’s behavior as an example of “tznius” – “modesty” and states that because of her exceptional display of tznius she merited to have great descendants who too would display exemplary acts of tznius: Shaul HaMelech, after being anointed by Shmuel as the Sovereign of Israel, did not reveal his status to his family members.[2] Esther, while in the pageant which would determine the next queen of Persia, did not reveal her regal ancestry for fear that it would place the other girls at a disadvantage.[3] What new definition of tznius is the Talmud revealing?

 

Tznius is generally defined as a code of modesty which determines our mode of dress and behavior. We approach this obligation as “bein adam lamakom”, a responsibility that we have to our Creator. The Talmud is teaching us that the requirement to be modest is also “bein adam lachaveiro”, a social responsibility. The laws of tznius require that we act in a manner which does not invade the space of others. Our actions must be measured in terms of how they will impact upon the sensitivities of our fellow man. The manner of dress required is not dictated by how much of the body must be covered alone, but by the awareness that dressing in a provocative manner may be an attack upon the senses of another as well. An outfit that meets the Halachic specifications in terms of its length may still violate the laws of tznius if it is designed in a manner which draws public attention.

 

Staying within our own space and not invading the space of others is not only relegated to attire. Speech is the area through which we have the greatest difficulty in focusing upon the sensitivities of others. All too often we speak up because of the benefit we derive from what we are saying, but fail to realize the damage we do to others with the content, decibel level and even verbosity of our speech.

 

All of the examples of tznius ascribed to the descendants of Rachel involve mastery over the spoken word. In Rachel’s situation, the fact that she discerned the appropriate time to divulge sensitive information is highlighted. In the scenarios involving her descendants their ability to abstain from divulging information at personal cost is highlighted. Binyamin is the son of Rachel and it is this specific trait which is being heralded.

 

A person who has endured a terribly traumatic experience very often is unable to discuss it for fear that discussing it will cause him to relive the experience. Overcoming this fear and conversing with a person who cares about him helps ease the burden of the trauma.

 

Binyamin’s loss of his only maternal brother at the hands of his paternal brothers must have been a highly traumatic experience. The only one to whom he could convey his feelings was his father, yet he refrained from doing so. By assigning the yashpeh as the gem to represent Binyamin the Torah is attesting to the fact that his abstinence from discussing his brother’s fate was not a result of his inability to divulge the information due to his trauma. On the contrary, “yesh peh”, his ability to converse about the issue was intact. Although it might have been of great emotional benefit for Binyamin to discuss the matter with his father, the knowledge that the pain his father would receive when enlightened as to his sons’ actions would not permit Binyamin to speak. This acute sensitivity to protecting others from pain, even at great personal sacrifice, stems from Binyamin’s perfection of his inherited trait of tzinus.

 

 

Asking the Impossible

Parshas Terumah

Posted on February 15, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What is the point of asking someone to do the impossible? What is to be gained by having a person make the attempt and fail? In bringing up our children, we are always careful to demand of them only what they can realistically accomplish. Otherwise, we would be setting them up for failure. Yet in this week’s parashah, we find that Hashem does exactly the opposite.

 

“And you shall make a menorah of pure gold, hammered,” Hashem told Moses, “the menorah will be made.” The Midrash observes that at first Moses was commanded “to make a menorah,” but much as he tried, he was unable to produce it according to the Torah’s specifications.

 

Finally, Hashem told him to throw the gold into the fire and “the menorah will be made” by itself – miraculously.

 

We can safely assume that Moses, the greatest man who ever lived, made the most valiant attempt to fulfill the commandment of making a menorah, that he exerted himself to the full extent of his considerable talents and abilities. And yet he failed. Surely, then, it was not humanly possible to create such a menorah by any means short of a miracle. If so, why did Hashem command Moses to produce a menorah when He knew failure was guaranteed?

 

Why didn’t Hashem produce the menorah miraculously right from the beginning?

 

A similar question arises earlier in the parashah, where we find an interesting paradox. The Torah commands that the Holy Ark be carried by long wooden rods inserted through golden rings in its sides, and that these rods never be removed; other Tabernacle furnishings were also carried by similar means, but there is no prohibition against removing the rods. Why was it so important that the rods of the Holy Ark never be removed? After all, our Sages tell us that the Holy Ark traveled under its own power and actually carried its bearers with it. The act of carrying was only an illusion. In real terms, however, the bearers of the Holy Ark contributed nothing to its transportation, and yet, here in particular, special emphasis is placed on keeping the rods of the bearers in place. Why is this so?

 

The commentators explain that a profound lesson is being taught here. Every person in the world is obligated to accomplish as much good as he/she possibly can. They are obligated to provide for their family, help those less fortunate than themselves, support institutions of Torah and charity. This is called hishtadlus. Although a person knows that in the final analysis Hashem controls the world and everything that happens in it, he should not say, “Why should I bother when it is all up to Hashem anyway?” Hashem wants all people to exert themselves to the full extent of their abilities, as if it were all up to them. Then – and only then – does Hashem reward their efforts.

True, the Holy Ark carried itself, and it is for this very reason that the rods must never be removed. Don’t delude yourself, says the Torah, into thinking you don’t need to lift up the rods because it won’t make a difference anyway. The omnipresent rods are there to remind you that you are always obligated to do your utmost – no matter what.

 

For this same reason, Hashem commanded Moses to make the menorah, even though He knew it was impossible. Again, we are being taught the same lesson. A person is required to try to the best of his ability, regardless of whether he can assume that his efforts will be crowned with success. Moses was rewarded for all his exertions in the attempt to make the menorah, even though in the end it took a miracle to produce it.

 

In our own lives, we too are sometimes overwhelmed by the daunting tasks that face us, whether in our private lives, the workplace or our obligations to the community. We sometimes cannot see how we will ever achieve success, and therefore, we become discouraged and lose heart. Let us draw on the lessons of the golden menorah and the Holy Ark. Let us reflect on the deeper truths of existence, that success and failure are never in our own power, that all we can do is try. And let us pray to Hashem that He look kindly upon our sincere efforts and bless them with success – even if it takes a miracle.

 

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

The Wealth Challenge

Parshas Terumah

Posted on February 26, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

One of the greatest problems that has dogged religious life throughout the centuries is the place of material wealth and money in the structure of religious life. It is obvious to all that wealth corrupts and sullies noble programs and plans., The question boils down to the eternal issue as to whether the noble ends – Jewish education, synagogue worship, social charitable endeavors — justify the means, as the process often borders on the unethical procurement of money.

 

Monetary scandals have plagued all religious projects and ambitions from time immemorial.

 

The fact that the goal trying to be achieved is so noble and morally necessary, makes the temptation to deviate from correct probity and proper behavior in fund raising and monetary conduct all the more tempting. Unfortunately, the history of religion is littered with monetary scandals driven by poor decisions.

 

The prophets of Israel decried this situation during First Temple times, but apparently to little avail. Religion sadly has a tendency to transform itself into a business, a commercial enterprise. And this always leads to the desecration of G-d’s name and catastrophic disasters.

 

Many commentaries and scholars have stated that this monetary corruption was the real basis for the destruction of the Temples themselves, and the continued cessation of Temple service even until our very day. Even buildings and programs conceived in holiness and founded by the most righteous of people are susceptible, over time, to fall into the trap of monetary scandal. I need not and will not enumerate specific examples of this weakness, but all of us are aware of their existence and sad influence.

 

Yet, despite all of this, these dangers are almost inevitable.  This week’s Torah reading combines the ideas of holy service to G-d with the necessity of fund raising and material wealth. The Torah apparently is of the opinion that the benefits of channeling and using money for noble good outweighs the dangers inherent in combining religion with wealth and money.

 

In fact, this is the pattern of the Torah in all matters of everyday life, events and society.

 

Judaism does not allow for excess ascetism or hermit-like lifestyles. We are always somehow to be engaged in this world, tawdry and flawed as it may be. Yet the challenge is to somehow remain a holy people, a kingdom of priests, while dealing with these challenges that mark our daily lives and society. The holy tabernacle/mishkan is to be constructed through heartfelt donations of material wealth and personal volunteerism. Though religion and faith are corrupted by monetary issues, wealth applied correctly and through a generous hand can enhance and even ennoble religion.

 

Moshe was shown a coin of fire in Heaven. It could burn and destroy, but it could also warm and light the way. The word Terumah itself, in its literal sense, means to uplift and raise. Wealth properly used and applied can be the engine that propels all holy endeavors forward. As it was in the time of Moshe, so, too, does it remain one of the greatest challenges in Jewish life.

 

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

The Slavery Riddle

Parshas Mishpatim

Posted on February 7, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

The gavel bangs down, and the room falls silent. The defendant approaches and stands before the three solemn judges. One of them begins to speak. “Young man, you have completed your six-year term of indenture and are free to return to a life of liberty. But you wish to remain a Jewish slave in your Jewish master’s house and not take on the responsibilities of liberty. You heard the Creator declare, ‘The Jewish people are my slaves,’ and yet you choose to be the slave of a slave! Therefore, we will drill your right ear. Then you may remain indentured until the Jubilee year.”

 

This scene dramatizes the instructions with which this week’s parashah opens. But how are we to understand them? When a person violates any of the commandments, he “heard,” the Torah does not require that we physically drill a hole into his ear. Why then are we instructed to use this drastic method to point out the folly of choosing slavery to humans over slavery to Hashem?

 

Let us consider for a moment. A master has complete control over his slave and demands absolute obedience. We consider this a negative relationship to which we attach the pejorative term slavery. Parents and kings also have complete control and demand absolute obedience.

 

Yet we consider these positive relationships. How do they differ from each other?

 

The answer is really quite simple. The slave master exercises authority to serve his own interests. The parent and the king exercise authority for the benefit of their children and subjects, and if they lose sight of this purpose, their authority loses its legitimacy.

 

When Hashem took the Jewish people out of Egyptian bondage on the condition of their absolute subordination and obedience, it was clearly not to serve His own needs. What could we possibly give Him that He does not already have? Hashem, by definition, is perfect and without needs. Rather, our subordination was completely for our own benefit. By loving Hashem unreservedly and submitting completely to His wisdom and will, we would rise above our mundane physical existence and elevate ourselves to the realm of the divine. By accepting the values and ideals of the Torah, we would free ourselves from the tyranny of our corporeal needs and pursuits and experience the exhilaration of the transcendent expansion of our souls, minds and spirits. This was not slavery in the negative sense. It was the priceless gift of absolute attachment to the Creator of the Universe. It was an opportunity to bring ourselves to the highest levels of existence and fulfillment.

 

The Jewish slave who chose to remain in bondage heard Hashem speak of us as His “slaves” – but he did not really hear. To him, slavery to Hashem and to a man were one and the same, and to suit his comfort and convenience, he chose slavery to a man. Therefore, we drill his ear as a symbolic penetration to his consciousness, to help him truly “hear” what Hashem had said.

 

As a “slave” of the Creator, he had been given the opportunity to gain eternal life on the very highest level, and instead, he chose the base existence of a bonded slave who lived only to fill his master’s needs.

 

Two friends went to study in the school of a famous philosopher in a distant city. The older one, a brilliant fellow, attended all the lectures of the philosopher religiously. The younger one, however, also devoted every waking moment to the philosopher, hanging onto his every word, observing his every movement, running to fulfill his slightest wish. Two years later, when their course of study was completed, both friends did extremely well on their examinations. Nevertheless, only the younger was invited to join the faculty.

 

“Why not me?” the older fellow wanted to know. “I did even better than my friend. I got a perfect score on my examination, didn’t I?”

 

“Indeed, you did,” the philosopher replied. “You know all the answers about philosophy, but it has never become part of you. You are no philosopher. Your friend, however, subordinated himself to me completely and became a philosopher.” In our own lives, we sometimes need to take a step back and evaluate the focus and direction of our lives. We struggle and strive to live as we choose – to be free.

 

But somehow, we never seem to break free. Even when we achieve financial success, there are always responsibilities, obligations and distractions that direct our lives.

 

Although we can never escape the entanglements of life, we can find freedom in another direction. We can subordinate ourselves completely to the will of our loving Creator. By linking ourselves to Him, our spirits can drink the heady wine of true liberty even as we continue to grapple with the demands of living in this world.

 

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

 

 

Delayed Gratitude

Parshas Yisro

Posted on February 4, 2021 (5781) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

After the great miracles of the Exodus — the splitting of the sea, the falling of the Manna, and the Jewish victory when attacked by the Amalek nation — Yisro (Jethro), Moshe’s father-in-law, was so impressed by this evidence of G-d’s love for His nation that he traveled into the desert to join them, to become one of them.

 

Upon his arrival, Moshe recounted to Yisro all that had transpired. To this Yisro responded, “Blessed is G-d, who saved you from the hand of Egypt and Pharaoh!” The Talmud comments that no one said “Baruch Hashem” (Blessed is G-d) before Yisro.

 

“Baruch Hashem” is essentially an expression of thanks to G-d. Was Yisro really the first to thank G-d? The Torah recounts numerous instances when the Patriarchs and others gave thanks as well. Moshe and Miriam led the Jewish People (separately) in singing praises to G-d after the sea split and the pursuing Egyptians were drowned. What, then, was unique about Yisro’s expression of thanks?

 

Those who preceded Yisro were thankful, but they only expressed their thanks immediately after they were personally favored with G-d’s goodness. The moment of deliverance overwhelmed them with a sense of gratitude, and they recognized G-d as the source of their blessing. Yisro’s special expression of thanks came long after the splitting of the sea, possibly many months later [and in addition, he was not there himself to witness it]. He was the first to give thanks after the excitement of the moment had abated. He showed we should be no less thankful, and express our thanks even for kindnesses of the past. (Based on a weekly Maamar of HaRav Moshe Sternbach)

 

As any self-help book will tell you, gratitude is an essential ingredient of happiness. The challenge is to be thankful even when life appears to be unkind to us. To keep ourselves in good spirits, it is crucial to maintain a feeling of gratitude for previous kindnesses, even many years after they happened — for that feeling will help us pass through what may seem to be darker times.

 

We must also be thankful for G-d’s daily gifts, which are so common that we may not think about them. The simple ability to breathe is a constant gift. Tragically, the Covid virus, one that can severely infect the lungs and impair breathing, has taught all of us not to take steady breathing for granted. So this, too, is a constant reason to give thanks.

 

In reality, we should constantly be giving thanks for the gifts given to us at every moment, but routine would quickly drain this of all meaning. We owe it to G-d and to ourselves, nonetheless, to express our thanks for the commonplace at least periodically, and to recall the gifts of the past as well.

 

Judaism incorporates gratitude into our daily prayers: “Modim,” in particular, is both an essential part of the Amida, the standing prayer, and a beautiful expression of thanks (in translation, its text may be found here).

Siddur Ashkenaz, Weekday, Shacharit, Amidah, Thanksgiving (sefaria.org)

It is important both religiously and psychologically that we teach ourselves not to merely recite, but to deeply feel its words.

And we owe our thanks to Yisro for teaching mankind this meaningful lesson!