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Parashas Shoftim

August 9, 2010
This week’s parashah discusses the appointment of a king. In the times of Shmuel HaNavi, the elders of the Jewish People approached him and said (Shmuel Alef 8:5): “Appoint for us a king to judge us, like all the nations.” Shmuel consulted with Hashem about whether to do so, for he was concerned that the circumstances were not right. Hashem told him to do as the people asked, but to warn them first of the perogatives the king would have, to conscript soldiers and workers, and to levy taxes. Shmuel delivered the warning, implicitly suggesting that the people withdraw their request. The people at large (particularly the younger members) responded (Shmuel Alef 8:20): “No! There shall be a king over us, and we will be like the other nations; our king will judge us, and go forth before us, and fight our wars.” The Gemara remarks (Sanhedrin 20b) that the elders spoke appropriately, while the young people spoke inappropriately. The Maggid explains that both groups had the same general intent, but the elders expressed the matter more wisely.
The Maggid notes that a Jewish king serves two roles. One role is to promote Torah values and observance. The second is to lead the people in battle against their enemies. Now, Shlomo HaMelech declares (Shir HaShirim 6:3): “I am unto my Beloved and my Beloved is unto me.” The Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim, part 3, ch. 51) explains this verse as teaching that the way Hashem relates to us is determined by the way we relate to Him. The Maggid draws a link between this principle and the concept of a Jewish king. When our fear of Hashem is weak, then we need a king to serve as an agent for promoting Hashem’s will, through both exhortation and a system of enforcement. In parallel, when we are faced with enemies, Hashem uses the king as a agent to wage war for us. When our fear of Hashem is strong, on the other hand, we do not need a king to prod us to keep the Torah, and, correspondingly, Hashem does not “need” to resort to a king to save us – He Himself steps in and saves us directly.
In Shmuel’s time, the Jewish People’s fear of Hashem was too weak for them to maintain their faith and observance without the aid of agent, and, accordingly, they were not worthy of having Hashem fight their battles for them directly, without resort to an agent. Thus, when the younger people asked for a king to serve as both a judge and a military leader, they in fact spoke correctly. Still, the way the elders framed the request for a king was more appropriate, for they focused on the primary issue: the need for a king to keep the people on the Torah path.
The Maggid goes on to say that, in the end of days, our hearts will be purified so thoroughly that our fear of Hashem will be firm, and we will no longer need a mortal king. Instead, Hashem will reign over us directly. He, Himself, will give us moral counsel and fight our battles. About this era it is written (Yeshayah 33:22): “For Hashem is our Judge; Hashem is our Lawgiver. Hashem is our King – He shall save us.”
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Re’eh

August 3, 2010
In this week’s parashah, the Torah teaches that animal (and other) offerings can be brought only in the Mishkan/Mikdash, but allows us to slaughter animals for mundane consumption. The Torah states (Devarim 12:20): “In full accord with your heart’s desire you may eat meat.” On the surface, this verse appears to allow us to feast on meat without restraint, which seems an odd position for the Torah to take. The Maggid, analyzing the verse more closely, shows that in fact its message is just the opposite.
The Maggid homes in on the phrase b’chol avas, which I rendered above as “in full accord.” Noting that the prefix on the word chol is a beis rather than a chaf, the Maggid says that the phrase should be read not as “to the full extent of your heart’s desire” but rather “whenever your heart desires.” The Torah is telling us, says the Maggid, that we should not make a habit of partaking of delicacies such as meat; rather, we should partake of such delicacies only when our hearts are struck with desire – that is, when we feel an unsually strong desire. If we limit our indulgence in delicacies, then the occasions when we do partake will bring us real enjoyment. But if we indulge all the time, then eventually the delicacies lose their charm. We take them for granted, viewing them as an essential part of normal, everyday life.
A person who seeks to satiate himself with material bounty is never satiated. Once he gets used to a given level of bounty, he begins chasing the next higher level. As our Sages put it (Koheles Rabbah 3:12): “No person leaves the world with [even] half his desires satisfied. If a person has one hundred, he wants to make it two hundred. And if a person has two hundred, he wants to make it four hundred.”
The Maggid elaborates on this cycle in Sefer HaMiddos, Shaar Ha-Ahavah, ch. 4. He links it to the following verse (Tehillim 101:5): “One with raised eyes and an expansive heart, him I cannot bear.” A person with an expansive drive raises his eyes, so to speak, to see what lies ahead on the road of material delight. As he looks ahead from where he currently stands, he feels that if he can reach the last station his eyes can see, he will have “made it.” But once he reaches that station, he finds it unimpressive, for he keeps looking ahead, and sees an even more dazzling station in the distance. If a person is driven to keep striding onward until he sees no better delights ahead, he is on a never-ending trek.
The Torah prescribes a balanced approach to material indulgence. Hashem knows that (except for the extremely pious) a regimen of strict asceticism is not appropriate for us. He therefore allows us to indulge occasionally, when we feel an unusually strong desire. At the same time, He warns us not to let the pursuit of material delight play an ongoing pivotal role in our everyday lives, for to do so is to strive in vain.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Eikev

July 29, 2010
This week’s parashah begins (Devarim 7:12-13): “And it shall come about as a result (eikev), if you heed these laws and take care to fulfill them, that Hashem your God shall safeguard for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers. He shall love you, and bless you, and multiply you.” The word eikev also means “heel,” which is at the extreme end of the body. Thus, the Midrash expounds (Devarim Rabbah 3:1):
Said the People of Israel to Hashem: “When will You give us reward for the mitzvos that we do?” Hashem replied: “Regarding the mitzvos that you do, it is [just] from their proceeds that you benefit now, but the reward for them I will give you [only] in the end (b’eikev).”
The Maggid explains this Midrash as follows. The mitzvos that we do produce wondrous effects, particularly on our own souls. But, at present, we are unaware of these effects, for Hashem purposely hides them. If we knew what our mitzvos accomplish, our motivation in doing them would be to achieve these effects – that is, to serve our own interests – whereas Hashem wants our mitzvah observance to be motivated by respect for Him and fear of Him.
Thus, at present, we do mitzvos primarily out of simple obedience to Hashem, and Hashem compensates us for this obedience. The compensation we receive is what the Midrash calls the “proceeds” of the mitzvos. In the end, however, Hashem will reveal to us what we accomplished with our mitzvos, and it is this that constitutes our main reward.
The Maggid uses the concept of simple obedience to explain a perplexing Gemara about Avraham’s putting Yitzchak forward as an offering to Hashem. We know that Hashem meant only that Yitzchak be put forward, not actually sacrificed, but initially Avraham was unaware of this intent. The Gemara states (Sanhedrin 89b): “Said Hashem to Avraham: ‘Please stand up to this test, so that people will not say that the earlier ones were of no substance.’” Why would people say such a thing? And what was different about the test of the binding of Yitzchak, so that it would refute such an argument?
The Maggid explains as follows. Our Sages teach that Avraham kept all the Torah’s mitzvos even though the Torah had not yet been given; with his extraordinary wisdom, he discerned the beneficial effects produced by the actions embodied in the mitzvos. Similarly, the first nine of Avraham’s ten tests called for Avraham to perform actions he understood. Thus, regarding his mitzvah observance and his performance in the first nine tests, it could be claimed that Avraham had acted not out of a desire to serve Hashem, but rather because he knew that a good result would ensue. But the test of binding Yitzchak was of a completely different nature; Hashem was asking Avraham to do something that made absolutely no sense and appeared totally destructive. Thus, when Avraham did what Hashem asked, he clearly did so only because he felt obliged to obey Hashem. Avraham’s obedience on this occasion showed that his conduct in the previous nine tests was also motivated by a pure desire to serve Hashem. As the Torah states (Bereishis 22:12), Hashem thus had made it known that Avraham was truly a yirei Elokim – a man imbued with the fear of God.
May we aspire to emulate Avraham’s conduct, and, in this merit, be compensated for our obedience and receive our ultimate reward for what this obedience accomplishes.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Vaeschanan

July 22, 2010
Parashas Vaeschanan reviews the Giving of the Torah. Hashem, our loving Creator, gave us the Torah as a guide to life. When we learn Torah, we must pay careful attention to what it says, even though there are some instructions that we feel we have heard many times before. We must take care to follow Hashem’s instructions exactly. Thus, earlier in the parashah, Moshe teaches (Devarim 4:2): “You must not add to the word that I have commanded you, and you must not subtract from it, to observe the commandments of Hashem your God, which I have commanded you.” The Maggid expounds on this injunction.
He explains that Hashem’s Torah is an intricate combination of many parts, like a precision watch. When assembling a precision watch, you must follow the design exactly. If you leave out a part, the watch will not work properly. And there is no advantage in being “generous” by making a part bigger than specified, or inserting extra parts. On the contrary, oversized parts or extra parts just interfere with the proper operation of the watch. The principle “more is better” applies well to a block of gold, but it does not apply at all to a precision watch.
Now, a person might think, far be it, that if he is generally observant, it is not so bad if he skips over a few mitzvos – Hashem will overlook the omission. Since there are so many mitzvos, it seems it shouldn’t matter if a few are left out. In regard this attitude, the Gemara teaches (Yerushalmi Shekalim, ch. 5): “One who says that the Holy One Blessed Be He foregoes matters, let his intestines be foregone.”
The Maggid explains the idea behind this teaching as follows. Consider a person who has many utensils. If some of them are spares, he is willing to forego holding on to them all, and lend a few to a neighbor. But if he has just one of every type for each member of his family, and they constantly use every type, he will not be openhanded. Even though he has many items, he will not forego a single one. Similarly, although the Torah has many mitzvos, Hashem is unwilling to forego a single one. Every mitzvah is essential. Hashem designed the Torah with various goals, and He built into it exactly one mitzvah to cover each goal. There are no “extra” mitzvos, and so it is no small matter if some are left out. A person who thinks otherwise is misguided. Let him reflect, our Sages say, on his own body. Let him imagine someone saying to him: “Listen, you have a few feet of intestines. I’d like to have some for a project I am working on. You can spare a couple of feet, can’t you?” Obviously this is ridiculous. If a person would forego a couple of feet of his intestines, his body’s functioning would be significantly impaired. In the same way, if Hashem would forego a few mitzvos, the Torah would no longer function as He designed it. We must follow the Torah to the letter.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Tishah B’Av

July 18, 2010
Tishah B’Av is the day when the two Batei Mikdash were destroyed, and so we set aside this day to mourn for them. The Rambam notes three other major tragedies that occurred on Tishah B’Av, making for a total of five major tragedies. The very first of these was the decree against the generation of the wilderness that they would not enter the Land of Israel. The scouts returned with a negative report, and the people cried. Hashem said (Sotah 35a): “You cried to Me for naught; I will designate for you a time of crying for all generations.”
The Maggid, in explaining Hashem’s words, identifies two types of crying. One is crying out of true distress, such as a destitute person who lacks food and proper clothing crying out to Hashem for help. The second is petulant crying, such as a rich person getting upset when he sees a neighbor overtake him in wealth, and crying to Hashem over not having received enough. Hashem welcomes the first type of crying and disdains the second. Thus, David HaMelech declares (Tehillim 51:19): “The heart of a broken and downcast man, God will not despise.” It is the crying of a person who is truly downcast that Hashem does not despise. But the crying of a well-off person who gets rattled by something not to his liking, Hashem indeed despises.
The generation of the wilderness was eminently well-off. Hashem had granted them great blessing and glory. Hence, their crying was for naught – that is, it was the type of crying that does not merit any Divine reward. Therefore, Hashem designated for the Jewish People a time appropriate for crying, for all generations. He arranged that we would cry over the destruction of the Batei Mikdash – a crying for which we would earn great reward, as befits crying that comes forth out of true distress.
Hashem’s way of dealing with us can be compared to the way a rich man would deal with a son who has no interest in Torah study or business, but instead spends all his time strolling and singing. He would apprentice him to a chazzan, so that at least his talent for singing would be put to good use, rather than going for naught. Similarly, when we show a “talent” for crying, Hashem arranges for us to suffer calamity, so that this “talent” can be put to good use and yield us reward.
It follows from the Maggid’s words that a crucial step in escaping the cycle of calamity is to stamp out our tendency for crying and griping. Many people tend to get upset over minor mishaps; I must confess, with regret, that I suffer badly from this tendency, and must struggle hard to fight it. Each of us must fight this tendency, to whatever degree he or she suffers from it. In the merit of our efforts, may we be privileged to see the final redemption, when Hashem will put our suffering to an end.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Devarim

July 12, 2010
The Midrash in Eichah Rabbah Pesichasa 11 contrasts a verse in this week’s parashah with a verse in Megillas Eichah:
Had you merited, you would have encountered the verse: “And as you saw in the wilderness how Hashem your God carried you like a man carries his son, the whole way (kol ha-derech) that you traveled, until you came to this place” (Devarim 1:31). Now that you have not merited, you encounter the verse: “Not so with you, all you passers–by (ovrei derech) – [look and see whether there is suffering like the suffering that has befallen me] (Eichah 1:12).
The Maggid links this Midrash with a famous episode recorded in the Gemara (Kesuvos 66b). Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai saw the daughter of Nakdimon ben Gurion, a man who had been famous for his enormous wealth, gathering barley kernels from the excrement of the animals of lowly nomads. Upon witnessing this pitiful scene of abject poverty he declared: “Fortunate are you, O Israel! When you do Hashem’s will, no nation can have power over you. But when you do not do Hashem’s will, you are handed over to a lowly people – and not just to a lowly people, but to the animals of a lowly people.”
The Maggid cites a discussion of this Gemara in the Torah commentary Akeidas Yitzchak, by Rabbi Yitzchak Arama of Spain (1420-1494). Akeidas Yitzchak, Gate 84, points out that, in general, the more sophisticated a creation is, the more fragile it is. Thus, a plant is more fragile than a rock, a complex apparatus is more fragile than a simple one, and so on. When a highly sophisticated creation is marred, it becomes completely ruined. Now, the Jewish People, when they are in their proper state, represent the ultimate in sophistication. Hence, when they are marred, they suffer the ultimate in bad fortune, and become the world’s most degraded nation. Not only do the leading nations wield power over them, but also the lowliest of nations.
Thus, the outstanding prominence of the Jewish People has two facets. When Hashem exalts them, their majesty reaches heavenly heights. On the other hand, when He afflicts them,  their afflictions are without parallel anywhere in the world. These two facets have been manifested over the course of Jewish history. While we were in our land, we attained a level of majesty and splendor that was incalculably sublime and beyond all comparison. In the same way, in our current exile we suffer to an incalculably great extreme.
The Midrash reflects this pattern. In the days of the wilderness, Hashem showed us special favor: He carried us like a man carries his son the whole way that we traveled. Had we merited, we would have continued to receive such favor, and taken pride in our distinctive greatness. But now that we have not merited, the only distinction we can claim is our uniquely tragic level of degradation: “Look and see whether there is suffering like the suffering that has befallen me.” Indeed, no people has suffered as we have.
Let us strive to regain our glory. Let us plead: “Return us to You, Hashem, and we shall return. Renew our days as of old.”
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Mattos-Masei

July 7, 2010
Parashas Mattos recounts the Jewish People’s war of vengeance against Midian for leading them to sin. In commanding Moshe to initiate the war, Hashem told him (Bamidbar 31:1): “Take vengeance for the Children of Israel against the Midianites.” But when relaying the command to the Jewish People, Moshe told them (ibid. 31:3): “Arm men from among yourselves … to take vengeance for Hashem upon Midian.” This difference in phrasing raises the question of whose honor is being avenged, the Jewish People’s or Hashem’s. The Sages and classical commentators address this question from various angles. Here, we discuss one teaching on the topic, and present the Maggid’s perspective.
The Midrash relates (Bamidbar Rabbah 22:2):
Said the Holy One Blessed Be He to Moshe: “Is the vengeance not for the Jewish People’s sake? Surely it is. For the Midianites made it necessary for Me to bring the Jewish People harm [punishment for the sin].” Said Moshe: “Master of the Universe! If we were uncircumcised, or idolaters, or had repudiated Your commandments, they would not have hated us. They pursued us only because of the Torah and mitzvos that You gave us. So the vengeance is for Your sake.”
The Maggid analyzes this Midrash through a two-act parable. The first act takes place in a wine shop. A person enters the shop and asks for a certain number of bottles of an expensive wine. The merchant gathers the bottles and puts them on the counter. A moment later, a drunk wobbles up to the counter and, in his stupor, knocks all the bottles onto the floor, causing them to shatter. The merchant begins beating the drunk, but without saying whether he is doing so on his own behalf or on the customer’s behalf. The customer himself is unsure, and he debates with himself over whether the merchant is planning to bear the loss or cast the liability on him. In the end, he asks the merchant’s son to ask his father why he is beating the drunk. The lad asks the question, and the merchant exclaims: “Don’t you realize the great loss this scoundrel has caused this man?” The merchant’s answer makes it clear that he is holding the customer liable.
Similarly, Hashem had previously told Moshe, in Parashas Pinchas, to smite the Midianites. But He did not clearly indicate on whose behalf the war was going to be waged. An affont to the Torah had been committed; its precious wine had been spilled. Hashem had already exacted a certain amount of retribution from the Jewish People, in the form of a plague, in connection with this outrage. Would He bear the rest of the loss on His own, and absolve the Jewish People of further punishment, or would He make them pay the entire price? [Perhaps the Maggid is distinguishing between the sin itself and the results of the sin. In addition to the fact that the Jewish People’s conduct was inherently evil, a serious chillul Hashem also resulted. The people had paid for having done evil, but the account on the chillul Hashem had not yet been settled.] Initially, Moshe was unsure. Then Hashem told him: “Take vengeance for the Children of Israel against the Midianites.” Moshe then knew that Hashem was casting the entire liability on the Jewish People. He then put forward a counterargument, as the Midrash relates. What was his reasoning?
The Maggid answers with the second act of the parable. The wine merchant and the customer do not reach agreement about who should bear the loss, so they go to court. The judge asks: “Who brought the drunk into the store?” It comes out that the drunk was one of the merchant’s workers. The judge then rules: “The loss is on the merchant.” In this vein, Moshe asserts that Hashem, so to speak, is the One who caused the crass Midianites to enter the scene. They hated us only because we kept Hashem’s Torah. Hence, Moshe argues, Hashem should bear the burden of the damage they caused.

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Parashas Pinchas

June 30, 2010
The second half of this week’s parashah discusses the daily tamid offerings and the additional musaf offerings brought on Shabbos, Rosh Chodesh, and the Yomim Tovim. Over the seven days of Sukkos, a total of seventy bulls are offered, corresponding to the seventy nations of the world. On Shemini Atzeres, a single bull is offered, corresponding to the Jewish People, the unique nation devoted to Hashem and His Torah. The Maggid cites the Gemara in Sukkah 55b which teaches that Shemini Atzeres is a day when Hashem and the Jewish People get together, so to speak, for a modest intimate meal and delight in each other’s company.
The Maggid then goes on to expound on a more somber teaching about the Yomim Tovim. It is written (Tzefaniah 3:18): “I have gathered together those who mourned for the appointed time – they came from you, who carried a burden of shame for it.” The Gemara in Berachos 28a, discussing this verse, says that the Jewish People are shattered because of the postponement of the festival assemblies in Yerushalayim. The Maggid comments as follows. When the Beis HaMikdash was standing, it served as the Jewish People’s designated place for national rejoicing, as it is written (Devarim 12:11-12): “It shall be that the place where Hashem your God will choose to lodge His Name – there you shall bring [all your various offerings], and you shall rejoice before Hashem your God.” But now, with the Beis HaMikdash having been destroyed, we no longer have any designated place for national rejoicing. Moreover, the role of the Yomim Tovim as times for rejoicing has been weakened, for now our fortune is bound up with that of the other nations of the world. Thus, David HaMelech writes (Tehillim 4:8, homiletically): “You brought joy to my heart at the time their grain and wine became abundant” – we rejoice when the nations of the world are enriched, for the main bounty we receive now is what filters down from them to us. And who caused this situation to come about? Tzefaniah points his finger at us, so to speak, and says: “It came from you.” Our own sins put us in this state.
David HaMelech writes further (Tehillim 137:4): “How can we sing the song of Hashem on foreign soil?” This verse, the Maggid says, applies even to those of us who live in Eretz Yisrael. In the days of yore, when we were firmly established in Eretz Yisrael, Hashem channeled our portion of blessing to us directly through our own land. But now, as we explained, He delivers our portion of blessing to other nations, and then arranges for it to come to us from them. How can we sing the song of Hashem when our lives depend on the bounty of foreign lands?
Yet, with all our pain, we can still gain solace. In the last chapter of Hallel, it is written (Tehillim 118:22-24):
The stone that the builders rejected is the one that was made the foundation stone. From Hashem this has come about; it is wondrous in our eyes. This is the day that Hashem has wrought; we shall jubilate and rejoice in it/Him (bo).
The nations of the world deny our stature, and claim that Hashem brings blessing to the world only for their benefit. They assert that Hashem has no regard for us at all. But we know that Hashem still cherishes us. And even though He grants more material blessing to other nations than to us, we still jubilate and rejoice in our relationship with Him. We can still delight in His company. [Certain Midrashim link the last verse in the above passage from Tehillim with Shemini Atzeres.] And we faithfully await the day when He will wipe away all our pain and restore us to our former glory, as it is written (Yeshayah 35:10): “Those redeemed by Hashem shall return, and shall come to Zion with jubilant song, with eternal joy upon their heads. They shall attain gladness and joy, and anguish and groaning shall flee.”
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Balak

June 23, 2010
This parashah relates the unsuccessful attempt of Balak, King of Moab, to weaken the Jewish People by getting the sorcerer Bilaam to curse them. Our Sages regard Bilaam as the archetype of a wicked person. In Avos 5:22, they describe Bilaam as having an “expansive drive,” meaning that he had a voracious desire for physical pleasure. Obsession with physical pleasure is the mark of a wicked man. Here, we present one of the Maggid’s teachings about how the righteous and the wicked differ in their relationship to one of man’s basic physical activities: eating.
Shlomo HaMelech declares (Mishlei 13:25): “The righteous man eats to satisfy himself, while the wicked man’s stomach is lacking.” The Maggid explains this verse as follows. A righteous man eats solely in order to sustain himself, so when has eaten enough to serve this purpose, he is content. He feels no drive to eat more, even if he gained little enjoyment from his meal. A wicked man, by contrast, eats mainly for pleasure. Even when he is stuffed, he desires to eat more, and he is held back only because his stomach cannot not take any more. Thus, the wicked man finds that his stomach is lacking; it does not have enough room to hold all the food he wishes to eat in order to gratify his desire.
The Maggid reinforces the point with a parable. Two brothers lived in the same town, a considerable distance from where their father lived. One of the brothers was rich, while the other was poor. The rich brother longed to spend time with his father, but his hectic business schedule kept him from leaving town. Finally, he made plans to take some time off, set aside his business affairs, and go visit his father. At the same time, the poor brother’s situation became desparate, so he decided to travel to beg for charity. In order to hide his plight from the neighbors, he told them that he missed his father and had decided to go visit him. He indeed had decided to travel to his father’s town, but he planned to make detours on the way to seek charity.
When the rich brother heard that the poor brother was planning to visit their father, he approached him, told him that he had the same plan, and suggested that they travel together. So the two brothers set out together for their father’s town, each for his own reason. Meantime, a short time before, the father was struck with a longing to see his sons, and had set out for their town. As soon as the sons had reached the outskirts of their town, they saw their father coming toward them. The rich brother was overjoyed, for he had achieved his goal with little effort. But the poor brother was crestfallen, for his plan had been pre-empted. 
The parallel is as follows. A righteous man, as we said, eats for the purpose of sustaining himself. A wicked also eats to sustain himself, but in the process he likes to make gastronomic detours to gratify his desire for pleasure. Thus, when a small amount of food is unexpectedly satiating, the righteous man is glad, for he prefers to minimize the time he spends engaged in the animalistic act of eating. The wicked man, on the other hand, is dejected, for his enjoyment has been curtailed.
In regard to the end of days, the prophet Yoel declares (verse 2:26): “You shall eat well, to satiation, and you shall praise the Name of Hashem your God Who has done wondrously for you – and My people shall be free of shame eternally.” Hashem will bless us so that a small amount of food will satisfy us, and we will praise His Name for this wondrous kindness. And we will no longer need to be ashamed over eating, for it will be clear that we eat only for sustenance, and have no interest in the ignoble pursuit of gorging for pleasure.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Chukas

June 16, 2010
Parashas Chukas opens with the law of the red heifer, the prime example of a chok – a Divine decree whose rationale is not revealed. In this context, the Maggid provides a general discussion of chukim. We present a portion of this discussion, based on a passage in Tehillim 50.
The passage begins (verses 16-18):
To the wicked man, God said: “What does it avail you to recount My decrees (chukai), and bear My covenant upon your lips? For you have hated moral counsel, and have cast My words behind you. If you see a thief, you emulate him, and with adulterers is your lot.”
The Maggid explains these three verses as follows. Many people try to justify their disregard for the Torah’s laws on the grounds that the laws have no apparent rationale. Often, however, this argument is just a dodge, disingenuously put forward by a person who cavalierly casts aside whatever rules he considers a hindrance, even those – such as the prohibition against theft in any form – whose rationale is easily grasped. Hashem is rebuking those who act with such duplicity.
The passage continues (verse 19-21):
“[Yet] you let your mouth loose against evil, your tongue adhering to deceit. You sit and speak against your brother; against your mother’s son you cast aspersions. These things you have done, and I kept silent. You imagined I would be as you were. I shall tellingly rebuke you, and lay out the matter fittingly to your eyes.”
Here, the Maggid explains, Hashem is addressing the wicked man’s violation of moral laws, undercutting his attempt to argue that he did not realize his behavior was wrong. Hashem tells him: “When you emulated the thieves and adulterers, I kept silent. You imagined I would maintain the stance that you took, projecting lack of awareness of the difference between right and wrong. But I will remain silent no longer. The way you act shows what your eyes truly perceive, and in accord with this I will prove to your face that you were dissembling. You let your mouth loose against evil, so it is clear that you can tell right from wrong. Thus, you cannot excuse your own wrongdoing by saying that you did not know better.”
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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