Saturday, June 29, 2024

 

A Matter of Perspective

Parshas Shlach

Posted on June 24, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: DrashaLevel: Beginner

 

This week we read about the twelve spies who were sent to scout out the Land of Canaan. Their mission of surveillance was meant to prepare the Jewish nation so that the entry into their promised homeland be smooth and virtually without surprises. Total trust in Hashem’s Divine design should have warranted no mortal meddling, but mortal prudence or perhaps apprehension and skepticism prompted their desire to manage the situation in their own way.

 

And, as has been the case with the relationship between Jews and their land from time immemorial, the results were disastrous. All the spies, save the righteous Calev and Yehoshua, brought back tales of woe, predictions of destruction, and assurances of defeat. The Jews were quickly and simply swayed, and the buoyant expectancy of a gallant entry into the land promised to our forefathers, quickly turned into a night of bemoaning anticipated enduring misfortunes. That night, the 9th day of the fifth month, became engraved in the annals of our history as a night of weeping. What began as unwarranted wailing turned into a forever fateful night the 9th of Av. From the saga of the spies to the destruction of two Temples, to the signing of inquisition, to the outbreak of World War I, the war to end all wars, the 9th of Av is a hallmark of Jewish misfortunes. But if we analyze the complaints of the meraglim (spies), we find an emerging pattern of skewed vision. They saw fruit so big and beautiful that it had to be carried on a double pole. Yet they viewed it as an indication of giant produce, indicative of the degree of food matter that nourished their powerful and physically giant adversaries.

 

But not only the living species gave them conniptions. They brought forth to the Children of Israel an evil report on the Land that they had spied out, saying, “The Land through which we have passed, to spy it out, is a land that devours its inhabitants! All the people that we saw in it were huge! (Numbers 13:32).

 

Rashi explains the meaning of “a land that devours its inhabitants.” The meraglim complained, “In every place which we passed we found the inhabitants burying their dead” They missed the point. In fact, Hashem caused many deaths amongst them at that time, and so the Canaanites were engaged in burying their dead. This proved beneficial for the spies, because the giants were occupied with their mourning and paid no attention to the spies.

 

How can an event that was providentially meant to be so beneficial, be misconstrued as an omen of misfortune?

 

Back in the early 1950’s a large shoe consortium with stores across the United States and Canada, decided to take their business venture into the emerging continent of Africa. They sent two of their salesman to explore the prospects of business in the remote villages across the Dark Continent.

 

After just one week, they received a cable from the first salesman: “I am returning at once. No hope for business. Nobody here wears shoes!” They did not hear from the second salesman for four weeks. Then one day an urgent cable arrived. “Send 15,000 pairs of shoes at once! I have leased space in five locations. Will open chain of stores. This place is filled with opportunity. Nobody has shoes!”

 

The Steipler Gaon, Rabbi Yisrael Yaakov Kanievsky, in his classic work on chumash, Birchas Peretz explains that poor attitudes help forge opinions that are diametric to the truth. The Talmud tells us that, “Man is led in the path that he chooses to travel!”

 

Imagine. The spies see these giants wailing and weeping at massive funerals day after day. They should have figured that this plague was an anomaly, for if this was the norm, then the funerals would have become part of their everyday existence, and hardly an event worthy of disrupting their normally tight security.

 

In fact, comments the Steipler, that in the times of Yehoshua, the two spies who entered Canaan were immediately detected on the very day they arrived, and they were hunted with a vengeance!

 

Yet these twelve spies remained unnoticed. But the spies did not look at the events with that view.

 

When people have sour opinions and want to see only doom and gloom, then even a ray of light will blind them. When one is constantly weighed down with worry, he will only drag his feet down the path of discontent. However, if we take life’s bumpy road, as a chance to exercise our endurance, and turn the lemons handed to us into lemonade, then unlike the meraglim (spies) we will glean light from even the seemingly darkest abyss. And one day we will follow the path of that light to the Promised Land.

 

Dedicated by Steve & Faye Kollander and family with great praise to Hashem upon the marriage of our children Arielle and Adam Parkoff

Good Shabbos!

 

The Grasshopper Syndrome

Parshas Shlach

Posted on June 26, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

So near and yet so far. The Jewish people were massed in the Desert, waiting for the signal to enter into the Promised Land. In a matter of days or weeks, they could have been in possession of the land that Hashem had promised to Abraham’s descendants centuries before. But fate intervened. They decided to send spies to scout the land and its defenses, and these spies returned with slanderous reports, causing an insurrection among the people and their exclusion from the land for forty years.

 

Who were these spies who took it upon themselves to slander the Promised Land, to inflame the minds of the people with their distortions and exaggerations, to instill fear in the hearts of the innocent? Our Sages tell us that they were among the greatest and finest leaders of the respective tribes.

 

How then is it possible that these righteous men would do such a terrible thing? Hadn’t they themselves witnessed the wondrous miracles Hashem performed for the Jewish people in Egypt, during the Exodus and at Mount Sinai? Did they think He was incapable of leading the Jewish people to victory against the Canaanites entrenched in the Promised Land?

 

Let us look into this week’s Torah reading for the answer. When the spies returned from their mission, they made a very revealing comment, “We felt like grasshoppers next to them, and that is how we appeared in their eyes.”

 

The commentators explain that this comment illuminates the underlying reason for the downfall of the spies. These people did not believe in themselves. They lacked confidence and a sense of their own worth. They felt like grasshoppers in the presence of the Canaanites, and therefore, the Canaanites viewed them as grasshoppers as well. This selfsame lack of confidence also led them to slander the land. They saw the major obstacles that had to be overcome, and they felt intimidated and overwhelmed. They shriveled within, unable to believe that they were worthy of yet another display of spectacular miracles. And so they chose to slander the land in order to deflect the Jewish people from their plans of conquest and to persuade them to remain in the relative safety of the Desert.

 

A great sage told his disciples for a walk, “Today, we will do something different.”

 

Without another word, he led them to a deep ravine at the end of the town. A taut rope was stretched across the top of the ravine, and a huge crowd was gathered a short distance away.

 

Presently, a tightrope walker holding a long balancing rod stepped off the rim of the ravine onto the rope and began to walk across the chasm. The crowd gasped in amazement as the tightrope walker made his way steadily along the quivering rope. When he finally reached the opposite rim of the ravine safely, the crowd responded with an audible sigh of relief and an enthusiastic round of applause.

 

The sage nodded gravely, turned around and started to walk away. “Why did you bring us here today?” one of his disciples asked him. “What are we supposed to learn from the tightrope walker?”

 

“A very important lesson,” said the sage. “Walking a tightrope is a metaphor of life, because all of us are indeed walking a tightrope. Did you watch that tightrope walker? He was totally focused on what he was doing, and he was confident in his ability to do it. If he had lost focus or confidence he would never have made it across.”

 

In our own lives, we are always faced with challenges and ordeals that may lead us to question our own capabilities and worth. Whenever we are inspired to do something good and worthwhile, the evil inclination immediately tries to make us second guess ourselves. Can we really do it? Is it too difficult? Are our motivations pure? And as our confidence erodes, the chances of success slowly fade away. But if recognize that the source of our inspiration is the divine spark within us, if we find within ourselves the courage and the confidence to persevere, Hashem will surely bless our efforts with success.

 

Text Copyright &copy 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

 

Gentle Reminders

Parshas Shlach

Posted on June 25, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

The universal image of the devout Jew is a praying figure wrapped in a tallis, but it is not the tallis that is significant. Rather, it is the long fringes on each of its four corners. At the conclusion of this week’s Torah portion, we read that these fringes were to be dyed a particular shade of blue called techeiles. What was the significance of this particular shade of blue?

 

The Talmud explains: “Because techeiles is reminiscent of the sea, and the sea is reminiscent of the sky, and the sky is reminiscent of the Kiseh Hakavod, Hashem’s celestial throne.” Wearing techeileth, therefore, draws the mind to thoughts of Hashem and is a source of constant inspiration.

 

The questions immediately arise: Why do we need any memory devices at all to remind us of Hashem? Why doesn’t the Torah simply command us to think of Hashem continuously?

 

Furthermore, why does the Torah choose techeiles which reminds us of Hashem in such a roundabout way? Why doesn’t the Torah simply choose a color directly associated with Him?

 

The commentators point out that our natural tendency of people is to connect what we see with whatever is dear to our hearts. Thus, a businessman spotting a piece of paper on the ground will think of the problems of waste disposal, the new technologies, the investment opportunities in companies active in this field.

 

A policeman spotting the same piece of paper will think of the littering laws, zero tolerance policies, litterbug fines. An environmentalist will think of the tree that was cut down to produce this piece of paper which was so casually discarded. The businessman, the policeman, the environmentalist may all have been walking along absorbed in totally unrelated thoughts. But that little deviation from the ordinary, the simple piece of paper lying on the ground, pulls each one out of his reverie and sets him off in his own individual direction along the route that is dear to his heart.

 

In this light, the commentators explain the rationale behind techeiles. The Torah does not make unrealistic demands of us. The Torah realizes full well that no matter how spiritual we want to be, no matter how much we would like think of Hashem, we still live in the mundane world. We have to earn a living and pay the mortgage and take care of the children, and we cannot realistically expect to keep our minds focused on Hashem at all times.

 

If, however, we truly yearn to be connected with Him, if we harbor a strong love for Him deep in our hearts, then a few gentle reminders here and there will bring Him squarely back into our thoughts. Therefore, the Torah does not simply command us to think of Hashem at all times. It is too much to expect of us amid the sea of distractions in which we live. Instead, the Torah tells us to keep a symbol with us at all times, a symbol which will remind us of Hashem with just a brief glance.

 

To accomplish this purpose most effectively, the Torah does not choose a symbol directly associated with Hashem. Rather, the Torah chooses a fairly simple symbol which can insinuate itself easily into the mad rush of daily life, a shade of blue that reminds us of the sea. But once the chain of thought is set in motion, our natural tendencies take over. That flash of blue sets us to thinking, and if there is a true love for Hashem deep in our hearts, our thoughts will naturally turn to Him. If the heart is set in a good direction, the mind is sure to follow. But the converse is also true.

 

A great sage was visiting an art gallery, and he saw a large redfaced man protesting vigorously in front of a colorful abstract painting.

 

“How can you display such lewd art?” the angry man yelled.

 

Intrigued, the sage drew closer and looked at the painting.

 

“My good fellow,” he said. “This is a wonderful painting. It is a warm representation of a mother soothing a distraught child. The lewd images you see on the canvas are a reflection of the lewd images that occupy your own mind.”

 

In our own lives, we are all caught up in the dynamics of our daily existence, continuously distracted by financial, familial, social, emotional and all sorts of other concerns that make up the fabric of our lives. Under these circumstances, it is very easy to forget about Hashem. But if He has a permanent place in our hearts, if deep down we recognize and acknowledge that life has no meaning without a strong relationship with Him, then we will inevitably find myriad symbols everywhere that will nudge us gently back on track and bring Him back into our thoughts.

 

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

 

Saturday, June 22, 2024

 

Missing Much More than Half

Parshas Behaaloscha

Posted on June 21, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar TorahLevel: Beginner

And when the people complained, it displeased HASHEM; and HASHEM heard it; and His anger was kindled; and the fire of HASHEM burnt among them, and consumed those who were in the outlying parts of the camp. (Bamidbar 11:1)

 

One thing is for certain. If you want to try to figure out what HASHEM wants from us and what HASHEM does not want from us, it is abundantly clear, even without a deep reading, that complaining is strongly not recommended. Frankly, nobody appreciates complaining. It betrays a lack of trust and a shortage of gratitude. Not only that, but it is not an effective tool to “win friends and influence people”. Maybe it works in the short run. “The squeaky wheel gets the grease!” However, for the long haul, it’s not an effective way to build or retain a relationship with the important people in our lives or with the Creator of the Universe either.

 

Rabbi Yonason Eibshitz ztl. pointed out a percentage point difference between two statements from the sages. One says that “If somebody has 100 then he wants 200!” It’s the nature of a person to want even more than what he has attained. This statement seems to say that he has reached 50% of his ambitions. Another phrase states that “a person does not leave this world having fulfilled half of his desires.” That means he reached, at best, 49.9%, and certainly he did not get to the 50-yard line of his hopes and dreams. How do we square this circle? How do we reconcile the subtle and percentage point differential between these two statements about human nature. It’s not a joke!

 

Rabbi Yonason Eibshitz ztl. offers a brilliant answer with profoundly personal implications. He says that the half that the person does not have is more-dear to him than the half that he does have. So, while quantitatively he may have reached 50%, attitudinally and qualitatively he is still shy of that halfway mark. When my daughters would ask me, if they can go buy more shoes in Marshalls, I would point out to them how many shoes they have in the shoe bag behind the door. I came to appreciate that the shoes that are in Marshalls are more-dear to them than the shoes they have already.

 

The Mishne in Pirke (4:1) asks, “Who is the wealthy person?” It answers, “The one who is (SOMAYACH B’CHLKO) happy with his portion.”

 

We understand that the person who celebrates what he has rather than complaining about what he doesn’t have or lacks is the truly wealthy person. That makes a lot of common sense.


I was thinking of a different answer recently. The word that’s used for one’s portion is CHELEK. The mystical books are telling us that 
Hashem breathed a breath of life into humanity and that divine investment is referred to as a “CHELEK ELOCHAI M’MAAL MAMASH” – An actual piece of G-dliness that resides within the person. One who knows how to exercise, stimulate, and rejoice with his G-dly soul, is the wealthy person. How is it done?

Rabbi E.E. Dessler says that worry and unhappiness begin when one has ambitions that are dependent upon other people. When someone has a spiritual goal that is only reliant upon his degree of desire and doing, then he has control over his destiny and can choose to excite and rejoice his G-dly CHELEK.

 

Rather than complaining and blaming and looking for fault, and feeling lack, frustration, and jealousy, it becomes possible to adjust our mindset and become truly optimistic. We always hear that an optimist is someone who sees the glass as half full and the pessimist sees the glass as half empty. The Torah has an entirely different approach, I do believe to optimism and pessimism. There is a story about two brothers, twins one was an optimist, and the other one was a pessimist. On their birthday, their father decided to put their attitudes and nature to test.

 

For the pessimist, he bought a room filled with toys. When he went to see what his response was, he observed his son sitting there and fretting about all the toys. “What if it runs out of batteries!? What if it breaks?! What if somebody borrows it and doesn’t return it? Where am I gonna keep all of this stuff!?” Then he went to visit the optimist. For his birthday, he filled a room with a giant pile of horse manure. He found the boy was jumping and skipping with joy. He asked his son, “Why are you so happy?” The boy replied, “there has to be a pony in here someplace!”

 

The world is dense with the presence of HASHEM. There is no place which is absent of His presence. A Torah optimist does not see a glass as half full. It is brimming! If a pessimist sees a glass half full, he is missing much more than half.

 

Saturday, June 15, 2024

 

A Drink of Wine

Parshas Naso

Posted on June 11, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What is the greatest blessing to which a person can aspire in this world? For Jewish people, at least, the answer seems to be peace. How do people in Israel greet and take leave of each other? Shalom, the Hebrew word for peace. What is the traditional Jewish greeting? Shalom aleichem, let there be peace unto you. Peace, always peace. Jewish people know full well that without peace there is nothing. The roots of this awareness go back thousands of years. In this week’s Torah portion, we read about the priestly blessing, whose climactic words are, “Let Him establish peace for you.” Peace is the ultimate blessing. But let us take a closer look at these words. What is the significance of Hashem’s “establishing peace for you”? Would it not have been simpler to say, “Let Him give you peace”?

 

Perhaps we can find the answer in the topic that immediately precedes the presentation of the priestly blessing – the laws of the Nazir. At certain times, when a man feels himself drawn by worldly temptations, the Torah allows him to make a Nazirite vow whereby he accepts upon himself an self-disciplined life style for a specified period of time. He may not drink wine or cut his hair, and he must maintain himself on a high level of ritual purity. When the term of the vow expires, these restrictions are removed, and then, the Torah says, “the Nazir shall drink wine.”

 

“The Nazir shall drink wine.” It almost seems as if the Torah is instructing him to drink wine, not just permitting it. But why? Furthermore, the Torah tells us that at the end of the Nazirite period he is required to bring certain sacrifices, one of which is a sin offering. What was his sin? Our Sages explain that his sin was his voluntary abstention from wine. What is so important about drinking wine? The answer touches on one of the most fundamental tenets of Judaism. The Torah does not want us to withdraw from the physical world and pursue a monastic life. On the contrary, the Torah insists that we find a harmonious balance between our spiritual and physical sides. The Torah does not want us to shun the gorgeous world Hashem created but rather to enjoy it in a civilized manner, to integrate our physical pleasure into our spiritual connection to our Creator. That is the ideal mode of living. The Nazir felt himself out of balance, drawn to worldly temptations to an inappropriate degree. Therefore, the Torah allows him to go temporarily to the opposite extreme in order to regain his balance. Once that period is over, once he recaptures his inner harmony, he “should drink wine.”

 

This is the essence of peace. True peace is not achieved by hiding from the disruptive forces of life but by finding an inner harmony which integrates physical needs and spiritual aspirations.

 

This sort of peace is not just the absence of conflict but the positive presence of harmony, a state that Hashem helps us “establish” so that we can truly benefit from all His other blessings.

 

As our Sages tell us, “Hashem found no vessel capable of containing and preserving blessings other than peace.”

 

A teacher and his principal were discussing a young troublemaker who consistently disrupted the class.

 

“I would like to have him removed from my class,” said the teacher. “Maybe then we could have some peace.”

 

“Indeed?” said the principal. “Do you think removing him will bring you peace?”

 

“Of course it will,” said the teacher.

 

The principal shook his head. “I’m afraid you are wrong. Removing this troublemaker from your class will bring you silence. Making him a functioning, contributing member of the class would bring you peace.”

 

In our own lives, we all crave that moment of peace. We dream of the time when our lives will become peaceful and happy. But more often than not, our concept of peace is the removal of irritating factors. The obnoxious co-worker will hopefully find a different job. The troublesome teenager will mercifully grow up and get married. And so on. But that is not true peace. It is escape. Why hitch our happiness to the shallow satisfactions of an illusive escape that may never come? But if we learn to live in harmony with the people and the circumstances in the here and now, we will surely find happiness in the profound satisfactions of inner peace.

 

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

 

Saturday, June 8, 2024

 

Chaos in the Desert

Parshas Bamidbar

Posted on June 5, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

It must have been chaos in the desert, a city planner’s nightmare, before the encampment of the Jewish people was reorganized in the second year after the Exodus from Egypt. The new plans called for the encampment to follow a rigidly defined grid. The people were to be divided into four groups of three tribes and placed to the north, south, east and west of the central hub in which the Mishkan stood. Each tribe was assigned its precise place in the scheme of things, with its own flag and tribal emblem.

 

Why did G-d put off the organization of the encampment until the end of the second year of the Jewish people’s sojourn in the desert? Why did He allow chaotic conditions to prevail for so long?

 

The commentators explain that it would not have been wise to create a formal pattern of encampment during the first year. At that time, the Jewish people were still in an early formative stage. Although they were all descended from Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, although they had all shared the common woes of bondage in Egypt, the idea of a Jewish nationhood based on the Torah and the covenant with G-d was still very new.

 

Each tribe had its own outlook and personality, which gave it a singular perspective on Torah and Jewish issues. Had the tribes been assigned to different sections of the encampment, there would have been a high likelihood that their ideological differences would lead to factionalism and dissension. At the same time, ideological differences among the tribes could also be a potential source of great national strength. The various perspectives could engender lively exchanges and debates. So how could the ideological differences be used to create a strong intellectual, emotional and spiritual vitality without leading to factionalism?

 

G-d’s solution was to allow the tribes to live together in one huge, chaotic melting pot for a full year. During this time, they would merge together into one nation indivisibly united around the core of the holy Torah. They would bond not only as a large clan but also as partners in the divine covenant.

 

But this condition could only be allowed to continue for a limited time. Otherwise, the tribes would truly melt together into some kind of a composite that lacked the focused strengths and virtues of each individual tribe. Therefore, G-d instructed the tribes to separate into a structured encampment in the second year, after the Mishkan had been built. The tribes would thus retain their individual character and still remain bonded to the rest of the Jewish people by their common connection to the divine Abode in their midst.

 

A man enlisted in the army and was assigned to an army base, where he made a number of new friends. After a few months of intense training, he was transferred to another base where he was given artillery training. One of his new friends was assigned to infantry training, while another was sent to communications school.

 

“What is going on here?” the young soldier complained to his sergeant. “If we are to be separated, why were we thrown together in the first place? Why didn’t they send him straight to communications school and where we fit? They knew his aptitude when he enlisted, didn’t they?”

 

“They certainly did,” said the sergeant. “Tell me, if you are called on to support the infantry in battle with artillery fire, will you rush to do it?”

 

 

“Of course. That is my job.”

“But will it help at all if you know that your friend is in the infantry?”

 

“I suppose it would.”

 

“There you go,” said the sergeant. “Starting with all the men together leads to greater sense of commitment.”

 

In our own lives, we also live in small, separated units. We are divided from each other by our interests, our professions, our family backgrounds, our neighborhoods. But we must recognize that there is more that binds us than divides us. We are brothers and sisters whose ancestors stood together at Mount Sinai and heard the voice of G-d. We shared the memories, both glorious and painful, of thousands of years of history. Regardless of our differences, we are one people.

 

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

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

 

 Great Expectations

Parshas Bamidbar

Posted on June 5, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Yochanan Zweig | Series: Rabbi Zweig on the ParshaLevel: Intermediate Beginner

“…and they established their genealogy according to their families, according to their fathers’ household…” (1:18)

 

Rashi teaches that prior to the census which is recorded in this week’s parsha, each Jew was required to produce a Sefer Yuchsin, a book of his lineage or pedigree.[1] The Midrash adds that producing this Sefer Yuchsin was also required as a prerequisite to receiving the Torah.[2]

 

The Midrash notes that since the nations of the world were not able to produce a book of their lineage for they could not identify who their parents were, they were not worthy of receiving the Torah.[3] Why is receiving the Torah dependent upon having a book of lineage? The aforementioned Midrash appears to contradict another Midrash which states that the nations of the world rejected the Torah based upon the precepts that it contains.[4] How does their rejection of the Torah coalesce with the fact that they did not have a book of lineage?

 

A person who is the first in his family to receive a college education will be elated when he is accepted to a community college. However, a person who descends from a family that boasts ten generations of Harvard graduates will be completely devastated if the only college willing to accept him is a community college. Surpassing the expectations which have been defined by one’s social upbringing is what gives a person a sense of accomplishment. If a person is unable to identify his parents, this indicates that they were people who did not take responsibility for themselves. Conversely, if a person is able to identify his lineage, we conclude that he stems from individuals who took responsibility for themselves and had honorable standards.

 

The set of seven Noachide laws is a system which requires mankind to elevate themselves from the animal kingdom by taking responsibility and setting moral standards. For the nations of the world, the very act of taking responsibility for themselves is, in itself, an elevating sense of accomplishment. Their forefathers took no responsibility for themselves, thus behaving like animals. Therefore, the nations of the world need only to behave in a responsible manner to feel accomplished. However, fulfilling the requirement of behaving responsibly is not considered an accomplishment for Hashem’s chosen nation. They are expected to behave differently than animals, to act responsibly, for their forefathers have set a standard which makes anything less unacceptable. What is considered an accomplishment for the nation chosen by Hashem is to be holy, elevated, and worthy of Hashem’s presence. Only a nation that knows its lineage and therefore has a preexisting sense of responsibility can be expected to be holy. The nations of the world rejected the additional requirement of being holy, for they found their fulfillment in behaving as responsible human beings.

1.1:18
2.
Yalkut Shimoni #684

That Golden Peace Treaty

Parshas Bamidbar

Shavuos

Posted on May 18, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar TorahLevel: Beginner

That Golden Peace Treaty

 

Rabbi Elazar said: All agree with regard to Atzeret-Shavuot, that we require that it be also “for you,” meaning that it is a Mitzvah to eat, drink, and rejoice on that day. What is the reason? (Pesachim 68B)

 

On the Holidays, how is our time to be spent? There is a dispute! One opinion says that it is to be entirely spiritually or entirely material (eating and rejoicing) but not both. The other side says that the day is meant to be divided. When it comes to Shevuos everyone agrees that it should be divided between devotion to HASHEM and eating and rejoicing? Why is the holiday of Shevuos different?

 

To answer a question “why”, we need to see a thing in context. One of the most amazing things about being a human is that we are comprised of two completely different, disparate elements- whose needs seem almost irreconcilable. The SOUL and the BODY-are an “odd couple” indeed.

 

While the BODY, like a horse, wishes to run on its horizontal plain in search of food and phillies, the SOUL, like a rider, is much more interested in climbing vertically in pursuit of truth and philosophy. How do we deal with this built in human dilemma? Whose needs dominate over the other’s needs? There are four classic approaches.

 

1-What we’ll call the far eastern way is an ideal that the soulful portion dominates the physical body. The successful practitioner finds him-self atop a mountain-aloof. His physical needs have been thoroughly quieted. He feels almost no pain. He can sleep on a bed of nails and fast. He is divorced from his body. Having trained himself to not to hear the whimpers of his own physical being or the temporal world around him, he meditates in that state and transcends the mundane.

 

2-The second we can refer to as the far western approach. Here the immediate needs of the body drown out the voice of the soul until it is a frail and thin voice, an afterthought called conscience. With plenty of continued practice that voice can be almost entirely annihilated.

 

It is recorded how the Nazis were sick to their stomachs the first time they carried out the brutal murder of Jews but after a while they could go home and eat dinner as if nothing had happened. The callous that develops with deeds that violate the sensibilities of the human soul grows thicker and darker with each repeated action. Eventually the body is divorced from its soul- Kores- cut off.