Mitzvah Impossible

Parshas Kedoshim

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

“Don’t take revenge, don’t bear a grudge, love your friend like yourself, I am G-d. (Lev. 19:18)”

 

These words are among the most well known Commandments in the Torah. Their simplicity and truth have resonated with people for thousands of years.

 

Yet these Mitzvos, which seem so logical and obvious in theory, seem nearly impossible to fulfill in practice.

 

“He refused to lend me his lawnmower, with no explanation, and I should happily lend him mine? I shouldn’t hold anything against him?!”

 

“That nephew of mine always asks me for favors and never shows an inkling of gratitude for all I’ve done for him. In fact, he’s downright rude. And I should love him with the same intensity that I love myself?!”

 

When we feel wronged, it is natural to have thoughts of retaliation and resentment. They often intensify the closer those people are to us. How is it possible, then, to live up to the expectations of this short verse?

 

The answer is found in the last words of the verse — “I am G-d.” You might feel like it’s impossible, but G-d has given every human being the ability to carry this out. By replacing revenge and grievance with love and understanding, the picture changes — sometimes instantly. Our attitude changes, our neighbor’s attitude changes, and we see the miraculous power within all of us to do the impossible. (Based on Sefer Tiferes Shimshon, HaRav Shimshon Pincus zt”l)

 

 

Why Have Children

Parshas Tazria

Posted on April 3, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

The opening portion of the Torah reading of this week deals with childbearing. Jewish tradition has to a great extent always been child centered. Bringing children into the world is one of the basic positive commandments of Judaism. Having children demonstrates a belief in the future and an optimistic view of life generally.

 

Everyone knows that raising children constitutes a great responsibility and enormous sacrifice on the part of parents. Nevertheless, the thrust in Judaism is always to create a family and be privileged to see generations. Seeing grandchildren and certainly great-grandchildren allows one to live, in an imaginative way, even beyond the grave. Judaism is a generational religion. It is not a religion that is self-centered but points to a higher purpose, a nobler life and through generations, it acquires a whiff of eternity.

 

The rabbis of the Talmud taught us long ago that one should not be deterred from creating a family lest the descendants of that family be people of disappointing behavior and immoral values. Having children and building a family is always risky business. There are no guarantees given even to the most righteous and pious of parents. The biblical narratives of the great men and women of Israel testify to the difficulties of rearing proper generations. Nevertheless, the Torah does not allow us to desist from bringing children into the world and raising families.

 

Creation is a divine attribute and procreation is the basic act of human purpose.

 

Little Prayers

Parshas Tazria

Posted on April 1, 2022 (5782) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

The Torah portions this week and next are devoted mostly to the spiritual disease of Tzara’as. Tzara’as is a physical blemish found on the body, clothing, or the walls of the house, that is diagnosed by a member of the Jewish priestly class, a Kohein. It is said to primarily be the result of violations of the laws of negative speech – Lashon Hara.

 

The laws regarding the diagnosis and treatment of this spiritual malady are many and complex, but once a person is fully diagnosed with Tzara’as he is called a Metzora and is required to reside outside the community until fully healed. While outside he would call “Tamei, Tamei – Impure, Impure.” to anyone he would see.

 

The Talmud (Shabbos 67a) describes an interesting practice related to his declaration: it says that when a person has a fruit tree that is sick and dropping its fruit, he should paint it red.

 

This is not a superstition, but for the sake of drawing attention to the tree, so that others will pray it become healthy again. The tree, just like the Metzora, needs to be healed of its sickness, and the small prayers of the passersby will help lead to the tree’s speedy recovery. The Metzora, similarly, declares himself impure not only to warn people not to touch him and acquire a lesser degree of impurity, but also so they will pray for his recovery.

 

I once heard of a young man studying in a Yeshiva, a rabbinical seminary, who always found outstanding study partners. It is common for Yeshiva students to study Talmud much of the day with various partners – a system that has been shown to improve attentiveness, clarity, and reasoning skills, among other benefits. His friends wondered how this fairly average student managed to arrange for the best and brightest to study with him each semester. One year he was overheard saying on the phone, “Mommy, you can stop praying for me now. I got a great study partner once again. Thank you!” Mystery solved.

 

Judaism prescribes three times a day for formal prayer, but prayer is not limited to the walls of the synagogue, to particular times of day, or to the pages of the Siddur (prayer book). G-d is always present and ready to hear our prayers. Consider even the common salutations like “Be well!”, “Have a Good Day!”, and “Get Well Soon!” They can be more than mere pleasantries we exchange with our acquaintances. At their essence they are prayers, and they too are opportunities to sincerely implore the Al-mighty for the benefit of others. The small prayers we utter for ourselves, and the blessings we give to our family and friends (even our neighbor’s fruit tree), are effective and crucial to their wellbeing and our own spirituality. May we all find opportunities to pray for others, and may all of our prayers be answered for good! 

 

(Based on Be’er HaParsha of Rav Elimelech Biderman, citing Rav Yechezkel Levenstein ztl)

 

Finding The Silver Lining

Parshas Metzorah

Posted on April 4, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Elly Broch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

“When you arrive in the land of Canaan that I give you as a possession, and I will place a tzoraas (1) affliction upon a house in the land of your possession.” (Vayikra/Leviticus 13:33) Tzoraas manifested itself not only in the form of skin blemishes, but also affected clothes and houses in the form of discolorations. This, in certain situations, required burning of the garment or demolition of the entire house.

 

The Midrash expounds that although seemingly counterintuitive, this was good for the owner of the house. The heathen inhabitants who previously lived in the Land of Israel, before abandoning their homes, often concealed their money and possessions in the walls of their houses. Demolition of the house uncovered these treasures, allowing the new Jewish owner to benefit.

 

Yet the Talmud (Eruchin 16a) teaches that this plague came as a punishment for an individual’s indiscretions. If G-d was castigating the wrongdoer, why was it orchestrated that the houses broken down as a punishment would yield treasures?

 

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (2) explains that although the plague came to benefit the house owner with treasure, that objective was possible to achieve without going through the ordeal of destroying their house. The tzoraas experience was demanding and unpleasant, to alert the recipient of his wrongdoing and need for change. The plague worked to achieve both punishment and reward.

 

Rabbi Avigdor Miller (3) further elaborates that the Creator of the World, in His infinite wisdom, has a master plan that our finite human minds cannot fathom. This plan will materialize, and cannot be stopped or frustrated by our decisions and actions. Certain events are destined to occur regardless of our actions, but the sequence or details of the events may be manipulated to teach us a Divine lesson. G-d wished to benefit the house owner by exposing the treasure. At the same time, the individual made choices and committed sins punishable by tzoraas. The tzoraas was a punishment, causing the afflicted to repent and commit to a more spiritual life, while simultaneously fulfilling G-d’s master plan with the discovery of the treasure.

 

People often undergo some misfortune or suffering that appears on the surface to be a negative message from the Divine. However, later reflection upon the events brings the understanding that while they were difficult and challenging, they provided one with a fantastic opportunity for growth and development. The Torah is reminding us of the well-known and much experienced axiom: what at the moment may seem like a punishment is, in reality, an opportunity and a treasure.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

 

A Jewish Identity

Parshas Shemini

Posted on June 7, 2002 (5758) By Rabbi Yaakov Menken | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

“Moshe heard, and it was good in his eyes.” [Lev. 10:20]

Shortly after the death of Aharon’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, Moshe challenged the remaining sons: “why did you not eat the sin-offering?” The sin-offering was to be eaten by the Cohanim, by the priests, and yet they burned the entire offering rather than eating their portion. Aharon responded to Moshe, according to our commentators, that he himself had brought the sacrifice, after Nadav and Avihu’s death – because as the Cohen Gadol, the High Priest, he was permitted to offer sacrifices even while an ‘Onen’, while he was awaiting the burial of an immediate relative.

 

And, Aharon continued, as an ‘Onen’ he was not permitted to consume the sacrifice!

 

And Moshe listened, and realized that Aharon was right.

 

Yet, according to the Torah, Moshe not only agreed with Aharon’s decision, and recognized that Aharon had understood the Halacha, the Law, correctly – but “it was good in his eyes.” He was happy. What was it that pleased Moshe?

 

The Toras Moshe instructs us to look back, to the reaction of Aharon immediately following his sons’ deaths. The Torah says that Moshe said to Aharon, “this is what G-d said, ‘I will be sanctified with those who are near Me, and before the entire nation I will be honored.'” [10:3]

 

Yet Aharon had no response: “And Aharon was silent.” [ibid.]

 

At that point, one could ask why Aharon had no reaction. Was it because he accepted with love everything that G-d gave him, or was he filled with

pain, bitterness and anger? One couldn’t be certain, because Aharon was silent.

 

But now, after discussing the consumption of the sin-offering, Moshe saw that Aharon was able to discuss and think about an issue of Jewish Law very clearly, using all his faculties, and was able to resolve the question even better than Moshe himself. This made it obvious that Aharon was not consumed by pain and bitterness – quite to the contrary: his silence indicated his greatness, that he had accepted G-d’s decree with love. And Moshe was happy to know that this was the case.

 

I recently read about a survey conducted by the American Jewish Committee. Some of the responses alarmed me, particularly when participants were asked what shaped their Jewish identity. More people responded “the Holocaust” than “holiday celebrations,” twice as many who said “Jewish study.” Furthermore, more people seemed to be concerned about anti-Semitism than about the issue of Jewish continuity.

 

Thursday, 27 Nissan, is Yom HaShoah, a day designated by the Israeli government for recollection of the Holocaust. Our tradition has always recalled tragedies throughout our history on Tisha B’Av – the Tisha B’Av prayer book includes selections on the expulsion from Spain, the Crusades, and the pogroms, and now ‘kinos’ have been written about the Holocaust as well – but today Yom HaShoah is observed by more Jews than Tisha B’Av itself, or even joyous days like Sukkos or Shavuous!

 

This should lead us to wonder whether we have permitted ourselves to be overcome by bitterness and painful communal memories. Have we accepted the truth that G-d loves us and remains close to us, regardless of tragic events? A failure to do so has tremendous ramifications: it should not surprise us, if the Holocaust is the primary force shaping Jewish identity, that so many of our young people would as soon not be Jewish.

 

Please don’t think that I’m dismissing the magnitude of the Holocaust. Having personally met many survivors, I have heard amazing stories of pain and heroism. Yet I just saw a beautiful quote: “Fighting evil is a very noble activity when it must be done. But it is not our mission in life. Our job is to bring in more light.”

 

Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner zt”l writes in a letter that the Jewish people are described as both “Am S’ridei Charev,” a nation of refugees of the sword, and also as “Am M’Dushnei Oneg,” a nation brimming with pleasure. We cannot allow our identity to be overwhelmed by either of the two.

 

My wife’s grandfather, Rabbi Zvi Elimelech Hertzberg zt”l, devoted himself to supporting and helping orphaned survivors after the war, many of whom still attend his old synagogue and remain close to the family. One of them became the Tokea, the “shofar-blower”, in the synagogue when Rav Hertzberg learned that he had blown shofar while in Auschwitz. And today? The same survivor, now over 70, teaches a class in Talmud in the synagogue. This is Jewish life. G-d remains close to us. We cannot allow painful history, personal or communal, to overwhelm the tremendous positive nature of being Jewish, of growing as Jews. Jewish learning comes before, and remains after, and must be that which shapes our lives as Jews.

 

Good Shabbos!

Rabbi Yaakov Menken

 

 

Dayeinu — Always Enough to Say Thank You!

Pesach

Posted on April 17, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

At the great seder night of Pesach when we read and discuss the immortal words of the Pesach Hagada, my family has always enthusiastically sung the portion of the Hagada that we know as “Dayenu.” By the grace of G-d, I have been able to witness a number of my generations singing this meaningful poem of praise to the Almighty for the bountiful goodness that he has bestowed upon us.

 

Since I am leading the singing that always accompanies this poem, the melody may be somewhat out of tune but what it lacks in pitch it makes up for in enthusiasm and volume. I have always thought about the words that make up this poem and the entire concept that “Dayenu” communicates to us. The poem deals with half measures, so to speak, of goodness that were bestowed upon us. As one of my grandchildren one intuitively remarks to me: “Zeydie, it is like proclaiming victory when only half the game has been played and your team is winning. But the game is not over yet, so is our cheering not a bit premature?

 

That same question troubled me for quite some time. How can we say that it was sufficient for us to be delivered from Egyptian bondage even if later we would’ve been destroyed at Yam Suf?

 

Or what advantage would have accrued to us had we come to the Mountain of Sinai but never received the Torah or experienced the revelation that took place there? Why would we say that all these half measures would have been more than enough for us?

 

The answer to all of this lies in the Jewish attitude towards the holy attribute of gratitude. Gratitude is the basis of all moral law and decent human conduct. It underpins all the beliefs and behavioral aspects of Judaism, Jewish values and lifestyle. And Judaism declares that gratitude must be shown every step of the way during a person’s life.

 

We are to be grateful and thankful for our opportunities even if they did not yet lead to any positive results and accomplishments. The Talmud admonished us not to complain too loudly or too often about the difficulties of life “for is it not sufficient that one is still living?” If one expresses gratitude simply for opportunity, then how much more is that person likely to be truly grateful for positive results in one’s life?

 

This is not only the message of the “Dayenu” poem in the Hagada, it is really the message of the entire recitation of the Hagada itself. Gratitude for everything in life is the message of Pesach, for the matzo and even for the maror as well. And perhaps this is why the poem of “Dayenu” is usually put to melody, for it is meant to be a poem of joy, a realistic appraisal to life and not a sad dirge. Like everything else in Jewish life, it is meant to be a song of eternity.

 

Shabbat shalom
Pesach Kasher v’sameach

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

Gratitude Unlimited

Parshas Tzav

Posted on March 15, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What do released prisoners, recovering patients, seafarers and caravan travelers all have in common? These people have all been in perilous situations, their very lives endangered, and having come through safely, they are required to express their gratitude to Hashem by bringing a thanksgiving sacrifice to the Temple in Jerusalem. The procedure for the thanksgiving offering, the korban todah, is described in this week’s portion.

 

The Midrash provides us with a rather surprising bit of information about the thanksgiving offering. In the End of Days, when the Presence of the Creator will fill the world with holiness and people will live in eternal bliss and serenity, all sacrifices will be discontinued – except for the thanksgiving sacrifice. This immediately leads us to ask: How can this be? If, as the prophets repeatedly assure us, people will be safe and secure, protected from all physical harm and danger, from sickness and imprisonment, how will it be possible for a thanksgiving sacrifice to be brought? The conditions that necessitate such an offering will simply not exist!

 

Let us think for a moment about a phrase most polite people use very often and very casually.

 

What exactly do we mean when we say “thank you” to someone who has done us a good turn?

 

What have we actually given him by thanking him? And why is he gratified? The answers lie in a deeper understanding of gratitude and thanksgiving. In essence, an expression of gratitude is an acknowledgment. By saying “thank you,” we declare that we recognize what the other person has done for us, that we value it and that we do not take him for granted. This is all he needs in return for what he has done – recognition, no more, no less. But a sincere expression of gratitude can only result from a genuine appreciation of the value of what we have received.

 

Without this appreciation, the words “thank you” are but an empty, meaningless formality.

 

If this holds true in our relationships with other human beings, how much more so in our relationship with our Creator. We are endlessly beholden to Him for all the good He does for us, and as a result, we should be endlessly grateful. Unfortunately, however, we live in a benighted world of illusions and delusions, and we often fail to recognize the innumerable gifts and bounty that flow to us from Hashem’s generous hand. And even when we pay lip service to it, how deeply do we actually feel it? How real is it to us? The only things we face with stark reality are life-threatening situations. In the face of danger, our affectations and pretensions quickly dissipate, and we realize how dependent we are on our Creator for our safety. As the old adage goes, “There are no atheists in a foxhole.” It is only when we are ultimately delivered from danger that we are capable of expressing genuine gratitude.

 

In the End of Days, however, the Presence of the Creator will illuminate the entire world and dispel all the foolish delusions which so becloud our vision and befuddle our minds. Then we will see Hashem’s hand with perfect clarity, and our acknowledgments of His guidance and benevolence will carry the ring of true conviction. At that point, we will no longer have to face life-threatening situation to inspire genuine gratitude in our hearts. We will thank Him endlessly for every minute detail of our lives and bring thanksgiving sacrifices to give expression to the transcendent feelings of gratitude that will permeate our souls.

 

A great sage once ordered a cup of coffee in an elegant restaurant. When the bill came, he saw he had been charged an exorbitant sum. “So much for a cup of coffee?” he asked the waiter.

 

“Oh no, sir,” the waiter replied. “The coffee cost only a few cents. But the paintings and tapestries on the walls, the crystal chandeliers, the Persian carpets, the luxurious gardens, the marble fountain, these cost a lot of money, and every patron must pay his share.”

“Aha!” said the sage. “You have taught me an important lesson.

 

When I recite a blessing over a glass of water, I must thank the Creator for the ground on which I stand, the air I breathe, the blue sky over my head, the beauty and scent of the flowers, the twittering of birds, the company of other people. Thank you.”

 

In our own lives, we all too often take for granted all the blessings we enjoy, and we forget to express our gratitude to our Creator, the Source of all this bounty. Indeed, when we experience hardship, we are inclined to confront Hashem, saying, Oh, why do we deserve this? But when we experience good fortune, are we as inclined to thank Him? Common courtesy, of course, requires that we acknowledge Hashem’s bounty, but if we offer words of gratitude to Hashem in all situations, we will also discover a deeper dimension to our appreciation and enjoyment of the blessings of life.

 

Separation and Preparation

Parshas Tzav

Posted on June 7, 2002 (5778) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

Moshe installs his brother, Aharon, and his nephews, the sons of Aharon as the priests – the kohanim – of Israel. Though there is no truly elaborate installation ceremony for the kohanim, there is a week-long period of preparation and purification that precedes their actual entry into their holy service. Why the delay? What does the week-long period of preparation accomplish? And, we see that this period of preparation is a matter of pattern and not simply a one-time event. For the Talmud in Yoma teaches us that the High Priest – the Kohen Gadol – was “separated” for the week before Yom Kippur in order to prepare himself for the service in the Temple that he would perform on Yom Kippur. So separation and preparation are apparently hallmarks for entry into G-dly service.

 

The service of the Lord is not something that one can enter haphazardly. It requires thought, dedication, knowledge and deep commitment. It is not an easy task. Just as one cannot wake up one morning and suddenly say “today I am going to be a brain surgeon,” so too one cannot automatically walk in to the synagogue or the study hall and enter positions of leadership overnight. Only by preparation – which invariably means years of intensive Torah study, self-recognition and improvement of personal behavior and attitudes, and a true willingness to serve G-d and Israel – is one allowed the exalted privilege of being a kohain, metaphorically speaking. The Jewish world suffers today from too many self-appointed, ill-prepared, self-righteous and pompous pseudo-kohanim.

 

Aside from preparation to serve as a kohain, there is also present the aspect of separation.

 

Even though we all live in the general society and social environment that surrounds us, to be a steadfast Jew requires the ability to separate one’s self from society, albeit, even slightly. It means not following every fad of correctness of thought and sociability of behavior, of distancing one’s self from the corrosive elements of impurity that abound in every human society and generation, of being able to stand even alone for what is right and moral and proven over the generations. The Jew may be in society but he or she must also be separate from society. The Haskala formulated that one should be Jew at home but just like everyone else in the street of general society. That false notion led to the disappearance of countless “home” Jews who were unable to make that separation once they had compromised their identity in the public arena of life. Without separation there can be no kohain.

 

The task of a kohain is not to be only a mere functionary in the Temple service. It is rather a challenge to be the guardian of wisdom and holiness, the one who maintains standards and counsels others in the way of the Torah and Jewish tradition. The kohain is held to a high standard. He may not defile himself or come in contact with what is impure. He must prepare himself constantly for his role in Jewish life and for the task assigned to him. Therefore, his preparation and separation are the first steps that he takes in embarking on the road to his ultimate task of daily service to G-d and man.

 

Shabat Shalom.

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Listen to Your Still Small Voice

Parshas Vayikra

Posted on March 17, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

Moshe hears the voice of the Lord as G-d calls to him. However, it is not the same experience that it was at Mount Sinai. There, it was with noise and fanfare, thunder and lightning, pageantry, and awe. At Mount Sinai, even the soundwaves were visible and real. But here, according to the Midrash, it is a private revelation exclusive to Moshe. The great heavenly voice is not heard outside the precincts of the Tabernacle itself.

 

According to some commentators, this is one of the reasons why the word Vayikra itself is spelled with a small letter –Aleph zeira – the small Alef at the end of the word Vayikra. It is interesting to note that one of the celestial powers of the Almighty is that of tzimtzum – the ability to diminish the godly presence, so to speak, in the universe, to allow for nature and human beings to function in the so-called vacated space.

 

We find that when the prophet Elijah searches for G-d, he does not find Him in the great wind or in thunderous sound, but, rather, in the still small voice of silence itself. I have written many times about the importance of being able to find G-d within our own being, within our own soul, for only by discovering G-d in that manner can a person achieve permanent elevation of spirituality and faith.

 

External events may make a great impression upon us, both physically and spiritually. But they are usually only a temporary influence, a momentary catalyst. Determined pursuit of spiritual and moral attainment is always dependent upon that still small voice that Elijah heard within himself and is the voice that all of us can also hear for ourselves, if we will do so.

 

We are all aware that it is much easier to hear loud sounds than secretive whispers. To hear a low voice or a whisper requires concentration. It demands a desire to hear, not an automatic reflex of our auditory senses, but, rather, an intentional expression of our inner desire to hear the seemingly inaudible. The experts of espionage and counterespionage, of police and governmental surveillance, have constructed elaborate technological methods for blocking out all the extraneous noise that their microphones pick up, so that they are able to eavesdrop on the whispered conversations of enemy agents, spies, saboteurs, and criminals. Only one extraneous noise can cancel a surveillance project and prevent a consequence or benefit.

 

I would hazard to say that this is true in the pursuit of a meaningful spiritual life as well. All the outside static of everyday life, of the mundane and the tawdry, foolish and the distracting, must be eliminated, for us to hear our own still small voice in our soul. We live in a very noisy world, and the ruckus of life often prevents us from hearing what we ourselves wish to say to ourselves, because of the outside static of noise that constantly engulfs us. We should certainly concentrate more on hearing our own inner self and soul.

 

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein